#in the movie they are all still friends until the final ten minutes and even then they're like 'hehe but if you ever need me give me a call!

[bodbdearg]

tbh I don't think marvel fans deserve good marvel movies, they still don't understand civil war

[girlygguk]

NOT IN THAT WAY | JJK (m)

summary in which you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, min yoongi. meanwhile, your other best friend, jeon jungkook, is hopelessly in love with you.

★ based on this request ★

pairing non idol!jk x fem!reader (slightly ft. min yoongi)

wordcount 30k (20k main post, 10k reblog due to block limit)

genre childhood bffs2l, fluff, angst, smut

rating 18+ minors do not interact

content jk&oc 21 | yoongi&jia 22, unrequited love everywhere, yoongi is kind of villainized 😞, toxic friendships, jk and oc are v touchy n lovey friends, pining, pushover & lowk naive oc, protective jk, simp jk, a touch of he hates everyone but her trope, a lot of clichés, a lot of flashbacks, heated-ish arguments, panic/anxiety attack, alcohol consumption, a lil bitta jealousy, kissing under the influence, smoking (ciggies), cursing, non-detailed sex scene w yoongi, happy ending because it's me 😭 explicit content; dirty talk, nipple play, clit play, cunnilingus, condomless p in v sex (oc on pill), toy usage during sex (vibrator), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of pillow talk

author's note this fic was basically built entirely in my old writing style, & while i did a fuckktonnn of editing, i'm still not 100% happy with the final product. but it's either post it now or i'll never post it! also... during said edits.. i think i took out most of the angst? 😭 i'm sorry angst luvvers, this is like 60% pure fluff and filth 😭

don't forget to read part 2! link at the end 🩷 (or don't, i wouldn't blame u xx)

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The rain drums against the windows of Jungkook’s Jeep as you cradle a six-pack of strawberry soju on your lap, the bottles clinking slightly with each bump in the road.

Jungkook hums softly to an old Linkin Park track from the mixtape he's played a hundred times before, the nostalgia pulling you in until you find yourself humming along without even realizing it.

He’d picked you up from your place not long ago, with a quick stop at the liquor store for beer and snacks, and now the two of you were about ten minutes away from Yoongi and Jia’s apartment.

You’ve been best friends with them for as long as you can remember—Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jia. Jungkook, just a little longer than the others. Growing up on the same street, realizing that the boy with the big bunny smile from your second-grade class lived right next door—it almost felt like fate.

‹ ‹ ‹

“How was school, honey?” Your mom leaned down to wrap you in a hug, her soft bangs brushing against your cheek.

Eight-year-old you giggled at the ticklish feeling before grabbing her hand and tugging her excitedly toward the school gates, eager to begin the walk home. “It was so fun, eomma! My teacher let us watch a movie since we finished all our work early!”

“Oooh, that’s nice, sweetie.” Your mom smiled warmly, easily keeping pace with you, her strides leisurely next to your quick, hurried steps.

The two of you chatted happily about your day, your little hand swinging in hers, when something up ahead caught your attention.

“Oh? Jeongguk-ssi!” you called out, your voice high with excitement.

Your mom followed your gaze and saw a young boy, about your age, walking just ahead of you. He turned at the sound of his name, curiosity lighting up his big eyes.

“Y/N-ssi? Hey!” Jungkook waved with that trademark bunny smile, and without missing a beat, you pulled your mom along as you ran up to him.

“I didn’t know you walked home!” you exclaimed, beaming. “This is my eomma!” You introduced her proudly while your mom greeted both Jungkook and his mother. “We’re walking home too!” you added with a grin.

“Cool,” Jungkook beamed before patting his mom on the arm. “This is my eomma! We live just down there.” His little hand reached out to point at a street just within view.

“No way!” you screeched, eyes wide in disbelief as you whipped around to look at your mom for confirmation. “That’s our street!” you shouted, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Wow… and we’re in the same class? This is getting weird,” Jungkook muttered, equally amazed. You both stood there, nodding at each other with wide, stunned eyes.

Your moms laughed at your expressions before yours turned to his. “Should we walk together?”

“Yes!” you cried, bouncing on your toes. “I want to talk to Jeongguk-ssi about the movie we watched today!”

You didn’t even wait for an answer, slipping out of your mom’s grasp to walk beside Jungkook, chattering away as if you’d known each other for thirty years already.

Jungkook’s mom chuckled, falling into step with yours as they followed closely behind, chatting about mom things while you and Jungkook walked ahead, engrossed in your conversation about 'Robots'. You were so caught up that you didn’t even realize you’d arrived home until your mom gently pulled you to a stop.

“We’re home, sweetie. Time to go in and start your homework before dinner. You’ll see Jungkook tomorrow, okay?” Your mom’s soft voice pulled you from your excitement, and you looked up at her with a pout.

“Okay…” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook, who was still smiling at you. His expression confused you. He wasn’t sad to leave like you were… Why wasn’t he upset? You thought the conversation was going great…

“Y/N-ssi, I live right there!” Jungkook exclaimed suddenly, bouncing on his toes as he pointed toward the house directly next to yours.

Your eyes followed where he pointed before snapping back to him in an instant, your pigtails flying. “Wow! We can walk to school together and-and walk home together and talk about movies! And you’re wearing a Superman t-shirt, and I’ve seen half of the Superman movie! This is so cool!”

Jungkook didn’t correct you—his shirt wasn’t Superman, it was Iron Man, his favorite hero of all-time. But he didn’t care. He just grinned, matching your excitement with a big nod.

Jungkook’s mom chuckled again, tapping him on the shoulder. “Okay, Gukkie, we better go start your homework, too.” She turned to your mom with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a call later to talk about what we mentioned before, Bora?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Thanks, Hyomin.” Your mom gave her arm a quick squeeze before gently guiding you inside.

“Bye, Gukkie! See you tomorrow!” you called out, using the nickname you heard his mom call him as he walked up his driveway with her.

“Bye, Y/N-ssi! See you tomorrow!” he grinned before disappearing inside with Hyomin.

The next day, your moms walked you both to school, chatting as they went, and when they left, they seemed to head off in the same direction.

That evening, you found out they’d gone for coffee to get to know each other better, and it turned out they got along incredibly well. At the time, their husbands were the ones working while they stayed home to care for the kids and the house. It wasn't long before they were exchanging recipes, enjoying wine nights together, and becoming each other’s go-to babysitters whenever one had an appointment. Soon, they were inseparable.

Just like you and Jungkook.

› › ›

You first met Jia and Yoongi about six months later, when you and Jungkook moved up to third grade. It was a combined class of third and fourth-graders, with Jia and Yoongi a year older than you both. Since the activities were separated by gender, you and Jia naturally grew close, always being paired up or placed in the same groups for subjects. It was the same for Jungkook and Yoongi.

Jia was beautiful. From the day you met her, you knew she was in a league of her own with her looks— naturally wavy raven hair, long lashes, and starry eyes that made her stand out in any crowd.

As you all grew older, Jia only became more stunning, her confidence blossoming with age. By high school, she had every boy wrapped around her finger. And she knew it.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Yoongi to be one of those boys.

Jungkook was the first to know about your insatiable crush on Yoongi. Of course he was. He was your best friend, the peanut butter to your jelly, the moon to your light. You’d confided in him when you first realized around middle school that your feelings for Yoongi had shifted, that you didn't just like him as a friend anymore.

You told Jia, too. But she seemed to brush it off as just an innocent childhood crush, something that would fade with time. When she and Yoongi only grew closer, eventually making it official during your senior year of high school, you felt like you were going to die.

You love Jia. She's an incredible friend, and she deserves all the good things the boy you were in love with had to offer.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t a jealous person, the ache in your chest was impossible to ignore. And every time you visit their shared apartment, which they moved into not long after their second anniversary, you can’t stop that very ache from resurfacing as soon as you step through the threshold.

“Hey. We’re-o—”

Jungkook’s words die on his lips as soon as he steps into the doorway of Yoongi and Jia’s apartment, his body freezing in place. You don’t have time to stop, bumping into his back, the soju in your arms rattling with the impact. Jungkook turns around to steady you before Jia's voice rips through the room.

“You always fucking do this! I’m so sick of it, Yoongi! Seriously! I can’t fucking take it anymore!” She storms toward the kitchen counter, snatching up her jacket and keys. Her eyes pass right over you and Jungkook as if you weren’t there, and she shoves past you both in her rush to leave.

“Yeah, walk away like you always do, Jia.” Yoongi’s laughter is bitter as he follows her to the door. “I’ll see you at, what, 10 o’clock when you come crying back, saying that you’re sorry and you overreacted again?”

You exchange a glance with Jungkook, both of you fidgeting uncomfortably with the drinks in your hands. This was just supposed to be one of your usual Friday hangouts… but instead, you’ve walked straight into a war zone.

Jia’s already halfway down the hall when she whirls around, her eyes blazing with venom. “No, I won’t.” Her voice is sharp, her tone final. “I’m done, Yoongi. We’re done.”

Yoongi’s face falters immediately, and in all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him look this lost. “What?” His voice softens, a note of desperation creeping in as he steps toward her. She shakes her head, holding up a hand to stop him.

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I can’t do this anymore. We need a break… some time apart.”

Even though they fight often, the look on Yoongi’s face tells you that this is different. That maybe she’s never called it quits like this before.

“Wh—jagi? No, don’t—no… just get some air? Please? We’ll talk later, okay?” Yoongi’s voice cracks, and you feel your brows furrow, your heart aching at his tone.

Jungkook silently sets his beer on the counter, gently taking the soju from your arms and placing it beside his. He returns to your side, his arm slipping around yours. The warmth of his touch grounds you, but your eyes stay fixed on the man you love, who looks like he’s about to fall apart right in front of you.

“This is toxic. We’re toxic, Yoongi. We fight every single day. This isn’t love… this is—I don’t even know what this is.” Jia’s voice trembles, her grip tightening around her keys as she struggles to keep her tears at bay.

Your instinct is to step forward, to offer your best friend comfort, but she rejects your gesture, wiping away the tears that have just started streaming down her face. Her face contorts in pain, causing your lips to purse as you itch to pull her into a hug. Jungkook moves close behind you, his presence reassuring, but you aren’t the one who needs comforting right now—Jia and Yoongi are. Jungkook doesn’t move, just leans against the wall next to you, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Jia, please.” Yoongi’s voice is raw, a pleading tone you’ve never heard from him before. You glance at him, your chest tightening as you see his eyes all glossy and red.

You have witnessed plenty of arguments between Jia and Yoongi over the years. Whether it was when you were all just friends in school and they disagreed on something, or when they’d suddenly break out into a heated fight during a night out at your favorite bar. But this one feels so different, and you don't know what to do.

You shift a little, moving to stand properly beside Jungkook, your head tilting up to meet his gaze. He glances down at you, about to ask if you're okay right as you’re about to suggest you guys go back inside, but Jia’s voice cuts through the air again.

“I’m gonna go stay with my mom. I’ll get my brother to come pick up my things… I need space, Yoongi.”

You swear you see the exact moment his heart snaps in two. His knees almost buckle when Jia turns around without another word, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, desperate to get out of the building as fast as she can.

Immediately, you and Jungkook rush to Yoongi, enveloping him in a tight hug. The dam breaks, and he begins sobbing in your embrace, his body trembling between the two of you. His breath carries the faint, bitter scent of alcohol as he struggles to catch his breath. You sigh, realizing the argument probably escalated because they’d both been drinking.

After a moment of rubbing his back soothingly, you suddenly glance up at Jungkook in alarm, which he returns with a puzzled look.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, tilting your head back to search his tear-streaked face, gently wiping away the streams flowing down his cheeks. “Honey, has Jia been drinking too?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, still too distraught to process your question. His sobs only deepen, his body shaking with every breath.

Jungkook immediately understands, his hand lightly rubbing the back of Yoongi’s neck before he pulls away, quickly disappearing down the staircase that Jia had descended.

“Come on, hun, let’s go inside,” you murmur, guiding the broken boy toward the couch. His legs are heavy, dragging as you help him into the apartment with an arm around his waist.

Once inside, you manage to coax him onto the couch, gently urging him to sit down. His face is flushed, streaked with tears, and your heart wrenches at the sight. You pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch, draping it carefully over his lap.

The sheer amount of tears pouring from his eyes leaves your brows furrowed almost permanently. You’ve never seen Yoongi like this before—so utterly broken. Whether it’s the alcohol or the depth of this fight with Jia, you don’t know, but you feel sick to your fucking stomach.

You head to the kitchen, filling a glass of water before returning to Yoongi’s side. Sitting down next to him, you adjust the blanket so it covers both your legs and his. “Here, Yoongi. Drink some water, please?” you offer, gently wiping away the moisture clinging to his cheeks.

With a sniffle and a hiccup, Yoongi glances at you, then wraps his trembling hand around the cup. He takes a few gulps, finishing about half before you gently set it back on the coffee table. Then, you rest your head on his shoulder.

The room feels unbearably quiet now, and you don’t know what to say, how to make any of this better. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

“I can’t believe it’s over.” His tears have stopped, but his voice is hoarse. His sad, dilated eyes lock onto yours, making your heart ache even more. “She’s all I’ve ever known, Y/N. I don’t know what to fucking do. What—what do I do?” His voice cracks.

“I…” You hesitate, your mind scrambling for something, anything that could comfort him. But for once, you don’t have an answer. “I have no idea, hun…”

You’re no stranger to giving Yoongi advice about Jia, and vice versa. You’ve practically become an expert over the years. But right now, you’re absolutely clueless.

Your best friend nods, his lips pursing to the side as he tries not to cry again. You exhale, your breath shaky as you shift to face him when he turns away. The blanket slips slightly, and your hands instinctively reach out to adjust it over his lap. But then, his trembling hand lands on yours, stopping you.

Your gaze lifts to his face, brows furrowing in concern. There’s a look in his eyes—something you've never quite seen before.

“Yoongi? Are you—mmf—”

His lips are warm, tasting faintly of Laphroaig—his favorite whiskey. The smoky sweetness floods your senses, dazing you as if you’d taken the bottle and downed the entire thing yourself. Suddenly, you're letting him guide you onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist as the blanket slips to the floor, forgotten.

Your mind blanks as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping past your lips in a desperate, feverish attempt to lose himself. His grip tightens, and he swallows your surprised gasp, pulling you closer, as if trying to drown out his heartache in the heat of you.

The realization hits you like a fucking truck.

You immediately jerk away, gasping for breath, your body trembling as you quickly scramble off his lap. Your legs feel weak as you collapse back onto the couch beside him, your wide eyes staring blankly at the wall above the TV.

Their TV.

A tense, painful silence fills the room, and you think you’re gonna puke.

Your lips still tingle with the memory of his, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. That was everything you’ve ever fucking wanted—but for all the wrong fucking reasons.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, yanking you out of your spiral. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you pull the device from your jeans and push yourself off the couch, stepping toward the kitchenette as you answer the call with shaky hands.

“Hey, bug. I’ve got Jia.” Jungkook’s voice soothes the crease in your brow before you even realize it. “She’s sleeping in the back. I’m going to drop her at her mom’s, and then I’ll come back to get you. Is Yoongi okay?”

You glance back at Yoongi, who's still sitting in stunned silence on the couch. “Ye—kkkhmm—yes, he’s fine. Okay, I’ll see you when you get back.”

Yep. Of course your voice broke. He won’t ignore that.

“Bug?” His tone softens, laced with concern. You close your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that spring to your eyes. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you choke back the cry building in your throat, glancing over your shoulder at Yoongi. His head is buried in his hands, elbows pressed hard into his knees. “I’m okay, Gukkie. Just get Jia to her mom’s, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Jungkook goes quiet for a long second at your quivering voice. “No, bug. I’m gonna come get you first. Tell me why you’re crying, please.”

Your chest tightens, and when you try to speak, your voice cracks again. You roll your teary eyes, swiping your free hand roughly over your face. “‘ll tell you later, Gukkie. Please, just… please take Jia to her mom’s.”

He goes quiet again, and if it weren’t for the sound of his windshield wipers squeaking against the glass, you would have thought he hung up.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he fights the urge to turn the car around right now and drive back to get you. If Yoongi is the reason you’re crying... Fuck, he can’t even finish the thought.

“I’ll be back to get you in thirty minutes, okay?” he manages to say, his pulse pounding.

“Thank you, Gukkie. I love you, please drive safe.”

“I love you too, bug,” he sighs before letting you disconnect the call.

Jungkook glances up at his rearview mirror to see a sleeping Jia sprawled out on his backseat, soft snores escaping her lips. He doesn’t entirely hate Jia, but he can’t ignore how poorly she treats you, no matter how much you try to convince him otherwise.

What kind of person feels the need to one-up their friend in every aspect of life? What kind of person knows about the insecurities that their beautiful, amazing friend has, but discredits them and forces them outside of their comfort zone anyway? What kind of person learns about the feelings their friend harbors for someone, and shortly after, goes for that person just to prove they can?

Whether Jia does it subconsciously or not, whether her intentions are ill or not, whether you notice or not, Jungkook sees everything.

At the end of the day, it’s you he cares about. You are his best friend. You are the love of his life. You are the one he will protect at all costs when it comes down to it. You are the one he will choose.

You will not get hurt in the crossfire of Yoongi and Jia’s fucked-up relationship. Jungkook will make sure of that.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is quiet—the quietest Yoongi has ever heard, and his heart splinters.

His head lifts from his hands, eyes searching for you. You’re standing a few feet away, the distance between you obvious, and he almost cringes. “Don't, bug. Are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s still strange to hear Yoongi call you the nickname Jungkook gave you what feels like a hundred years ago, but you can’t ignore the warmth it stirs in your chest when he does.

“Of course I’m okay,” you say carefully. “You’re hurting... People do silly things when they’re hurting.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, bug, I—”

“You didn’t.” You’re quiet again, and he freezes, confusion knitting his brows. “Make me, um, uncomfortable.”

He scoffs under his breath, hands rubbing at his temples. “Sure seems like I did.”

“No, you could never make—”

“Y/N, don’t say that. I kissed you. I pulled you on top of me—”

“I let you—”

“I took advantage of you—”

“You didn’t—”

“Stop fucking defending me! Stop thinking the best of me—”

“I’m not—”

“You are! You always do! Even when I act like a complete piece of shi—”

“I love you.”

The room falls into a suffocating silence. Yeah, you’re definitely going to puke now.

Yoongi’s hands slowly fall away from his face, his eyes desperate to meet yours. But you refuse to look at him. Your gaze stays fixed on the rug you helped Jia pick out from your favorite vintage home decor store. You’re going to get vomit all over such a pretty rug.

“Bug…” His voice is soft, pleading. You don’t look up. You don’t move. You can’t.

You’ve said “I love you” to Yoongi plenty of times before. But you know that you can’t possibly play this off as another friendly declaration. You know he caught what you really meant.

Over a decade of hiding and suppressing your feelings for him, just for you to suddenly blurt it out because you couldn’t bear to hear him talk badly about himself? And to think your stupid therapist said your chronic people-pleasing tendencies were getting better.

“Y/N. Please.” You didn’t even realize he’d stood from the couch, didn’t notice him moving closer. But you feel it when his shaky hand gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, shaking his head slowly, his eyes filled with sadness as he takes in your expression.

“Okay.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your efforts to hold them back. “I didn’t mean it. Let’s just forget it happened—”

“You can’t love me, bug.” He looks like he’s in so much pain, and your stomach clenches. He’s repulsed by the idea of you loving him in that way. God, you wished that you’d just stayed home tonight and watched movies with Jungkook like he had suggested.

Who were you even kidding? Yoongi is in—well, was in—a relationship with one of the most gorgeous, fierce, and confident women you’ve ever met. Jia is everything a man could want. He loves her. Obviously, he loves her. How pathetic could you be?

“Yoongi, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I even said that. I’m so stupid.” You sniffle, and Yoongi sighs deeply, his thumb brushing away the tear that spills down your cheek. “Please forget it. Please, let’s just forge—”

But he cuts you off, his lips crashing into yours again, more intense this time. His kiss pulls you under before you can even think to resist, and it's not long before your body completely surrenders. Your lips part, letting him in, stifling the urge to moan as his tongue meets yours. Yoongi’s hands move from your jaw to thread through your hair, pulling you closer, and suddenly, everything—right, wrong, loyalty, friendship—fades. It’s just him.

A deep groan vibrates from his throat, and you capture it, drinking it in as your head spins. Your hands unfreeze and find their way to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric of his shirt. You grip the material, tugging him even closer, satisfaction surging through you as he presses himself against you.

Yoongi pulls back, just for a moment, and you force yourself not to chase his lips. Your eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of his swollen pout and reddened cheeks. “I didn’t know, Y/N…”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know. It’s okay, really. You don’t have to—”

“I didn’t know that you had feelings for me, too.”

Your hands jerk back, the fabric slipping from your fingers as you stumble away. What?

“What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

No? That’s not. No.

“Of course I love you, bug.” Yoongi’s eyes soften, and his words spill out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s not to love? You’re smart, funny, pretty, sweet… Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Your head starts shaking furiously, your brain scrambling to process what he’s saying. “You’re—a-are you drunk? You don’t mean that. You can’t just say something like that to me if you don’t mean it—”

“You know me, Y/N. You know my tolerance, and I’ve barely had much to drink. I’m just really emotional tonight. But I mean it, I do love you.”

You stare at him, the boy you’ve loved in secret for years, the one you’ve cried over, wishing for this exact moment. And now, the words you’ve always dreamed of are tumbling from his lips.

But… where are the fireworks?

There’s no rainbow-colored burst in your head, no magical release of all the pain you’ve carried, no sense of it washing down a metaphorical drain. You pout at the thought.

You feel happy, yes. Relieved, yes. Confused… yes.

A soft thudding noise furrows Jungkook’s brows as he twists the handle to Yoongi’s apartment door.

The lights in the living room are on. There’s a blanket sprawled across the rug you really wanted from your favorite vintage home decor store—the one Jia bought because she said it would look cute in her new apartment. Your sandals are neatly placed next to the doormat, but you’re nowhere in sight.

Jungkook peeks into the nearby rooms, checking the main bathroom and laundry, both empty. His steps slow as he reaches Yoongi and Jia’s bedroom, where a sliver of light spills from beneath the door. His hand hovers over the knob before it freezes, his blood running cold.

“Oh! Fuck!” Your sweet voice rings in his ears, rendering him immobile.

No.

No, bug… Fuck.

The thudding noise he heard when he entered the apartment returns, now registering loud and clear as the headboard of Yoongi’s bed slamming harshly into the wall. Jungkook tries to move, tries to turn around and leave, but he can’t.

“Shit, bug! You like that?”

Jungkook’s fist tightens around the doorknob as he hears his best friend call you by his nickname while he fucks you. He’s got some fucking nerve.

“Mhmm, I-I love ittt.”

Jungkook stumbles back from the door as he feels the bile rising in his throat. He heads to the kitchen, chest tightening painfully with every step. He grabs a glass, fills it with water, and downs it in three gulps. Then he fills it again, downs it again. And again. And again.

He repeats the action until his eyes are watering and he can’t force himself to swallow another mouthful. The sick feeling clawing at his throat remains unaffected. He's gonna fucking pass out.

He’s shaking now as he carefully sets the glass in the dishwasher. Then, he walks to the door and removes his shoes, lining them up perfectly alongside yours. After turning off the light, Jungkook walks to the couch and bends down to pick up the ugly blanket draped across your pretty little rug.

Your body clock wakes you as it does every morning. Groggily, your hand reaches out, searching for your phone on your bedside table. But instead of the familiar hard surface, your fingers only encounter more mattress instead.

‹ ‹ ‹

“Okay, can you pass me two screw C’s, please, Gukkie?” you asked, eyes bouncing between the half-built table you were trying your best to put together.

Jungkook stayed quiet for a moment, his hand hovering over the screw C’s even though he knew it was actually screw B’s you needed for that part. He glanced over, catching sight of your little pout, and grabbed two screw B’s, plopping them into your hand.

“Thank you—” you started, pausing when you noticed the bolts weren’t what you thought. “Gukkie, no, I need screw C’s.”

“No, bug, you need screw B’s.” He rubbed your leg, which was bumping against his as you both sat cross-legged on the floor of your new apartment.

“What—I… huh?” you mumbled in confusion, glancing from the manual to the table, then back to the manual. “Ohhhh, fuuuckk!”

You dropped the screws and manual with a whine, pulling your knees up and burying your face in them. “I’ve gotten the last three steps backward! I’ll have to basically unassemble it and—ugh!” you groaned, grumbling into Jungkook’s shoulder when he laughed, catching you as you flopped against him. “Should’ve just let you build it like you wanted to,” you muttered.

Jungkook just shrugged, glancing at the table. “S’okay. Won’t take me long. Want to order our dinner?”

You glanced up at your best friend, hands reaching to grab his cheeks and squeeze them. “Yes. Thank you. I love you.” He turned his face to give your hand a quick kiss, nodding as he reached for the table pieces. “I love you more. My phone’s over there,” he gestured to the couch behind you, a silent invitation to use his delivery app.

You nodded, grabbing his phone and angling away just enough so he wouldn’t see you switch to your own device instead. He never let you pay, but he was building your furniture...

You’d happily take the scolding once your bellies were full and your cute new table was standing next to your bed.

› › ›

Confused, you open your eyes, only to be met with the sight of a blank beige wall. But… your walls aren't beige?

And then it hits you.

Yoongi.

You and Yoongi.

The arm wrapped firmly around your waist tugs you closer as Yoongi nuzzles into your back, still half-asleep. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat, before gently trying to pull the blanket up over your exposed chest. But even in his sleep, his grip on you remains strong. You’re about to tug a little harder when you suddenly remember.

Jungkook.

Holy fuck, Jungkook. He was supposed to come back for you. He must have, but you weren’t out there waiting for him. Panic surges through you as you scramble out of the bed, not even thinking as you leap for your jeans discarded on the bedroom floor.

Yoongi stirs, a confused grunt escaping him as his eyes slowly open, watching you frantically search your pants. “I would say I’m hurt you’re rushing to get dressed so quickly,” he drawls, voice husky with sleep, “but your ass looks fantastic from here, so I’ll let it slide…”

You roll your eyes with a little smile, still focused on finding your phone. Climbing back into bed once you have it in hand, he watches with a twinkly smirk, the bruise he left above your left nipple making his morning wood throb a little. His head tilts up to capture your lips, and you almost drop your phone at the feeling, but you don’t let it last too long before flopping back next to him, finally opening your messages app.

[7:36 AM] To: Gukkie good morning, gukkie. i’m soooo sorry i didn’t call you last night. i have so much to tell you. please text me back when you wake up, okay? i love you 💗

You scroll back to the last message, a photo from Jungkook of an anime figurine he found at the gas station yesterday on his way to pick you up. He said it reminded him of you.

You’ve never been much into anime—only knowing what you do from when you go over to his place and finish the episode he’s currently watching with him—but the character was so cute. Maybe you’ll ask him to show you the series later.

You’re just about to ask Yoongi if you can borrow his charger because your phone’s at 5%, but his phone rings, interrupting your question. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning over to grab his phone from the bedside table. As he glances at the screen, a sigh slips from his lips, his hand running through his hair in a familiar gesture that tells you exactly who’s calling. A knot forms in your stomach as you focus back on your phone, pretending to be preoccupied with the screen.

Clad only in his boxers, Yoongi gets up and quietly slips into the ensuite, shutting the door behind him. His voice is low, muffled by the walls, but you don’t try to listen. Instead, you lean over to his bedside table, searching for a charger amongst the clutter, but come up empty. After a quick check of the drawers and still finding nothing, you sigh.

Just as you’re about to get up and search the rest of the room, you glance back at your phone in your lap. The messages app is still open, and your heart stutters when you notice the read receipt on the last text you sent.

Read 7:37 AM.

Jungkook’s awake? Maybe he’s just in the bathroom and will reply soon. Or maybe you woke him up, and he was too tired to respond. Or maybe he’s mad at you for ditching him yesterday. Guilt twists in your chest, and you bite hard on your inner lip, knowing you’ve just earned yourself a spot in the Shitty Friend Hall of Fame after last night.

You're typing another message to Jungkook when the ensuite door opens. You glance up, only to find Yoongi stepping back into the room with a somber expression. His movements are slow, careful. Your stomach drops.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of how underdressed you are. Your phone slips from your fingers into the blankets without a thought as you scramble back up to grab your shirt from the floor. Your throat feels scratchy, and you clear it awkwardly, desperate to fill the silence as you tug the fabric over your head. Yoongi watches your frantic movements and sighs as he reaches out to you, but you pull away, avoiding his touch.

His voice is strained. “Bug…” 

God, you’re so fucking stupid. Of course, this was nothing to him. You were nothing but a momentary distraction, a warm body to offer comfort while he was hurting. Of course it takes one five-minute call from your beautiful best friend to have him regretting everything that happened between you.

Holy fuck. Jia.

She’s going to be furious. She's going to kill you. She’s going to hate you.

Panic rises in your chest, and your vision blurs as tears well up in your eyes. You stumble back slightly, grabbing for your jeans again, but your hands are shaking too much to pull them on. Yoongi steps closer, taking the jeans from your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin, warm and gentle.

And that’s when you break.

He pulls you into his arms as you lose it, sobbing uncontrollably, ugly and snotty. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jia and I… we’re gonna try to work on things… There’s just so much history, and we weren’t thinking clearly last night. I’m so—”

“No, I’m…” you choke out between hiccups, wrenching free from his arms, hurriedly wiping your eyes and nose. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, she’s going to hate me. What have I done? I-I—”

Your words falter as a wave of dizziness hits you, and your vision begins to blur at the edges. Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowns out everything else. The tightness in your chest makes it hard to breathe, each breath becoming shallower, more frantic. “Yoong—”

The room is closing in on you, suffocating. The panic seizes your lungs, and even the minimal clothing you’re wearing feels too heavy, too much.

It’s been two years since your last episode and you'd almost forgotten how they felt like. But right now, but the feeling is all too fucking familiar.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in alarm. He’s saying your name, you think, but all you can hear is the deafening thud of your own heartbeat. Your hands tremble uncontrollably, and before you know it, you collapse to the floor, curling into yourself.

Head on your knees. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Just like your nurse taught you. Just like your best friend practiced with you for hours until you both experts in the method.

But it’s not working. It’s not fucking working.

“Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice rises in panic, his eyes wide and helpless. “Y/N, please. What’s happening? What do I do? I-I’m going to call an ambu—”

The door to Yoongi’s room slams open, hitting the wall with a thud at the force it was thrown open. Within seconds, Yoongi is shoved aside, and the warmth of strong arms wraps around you. You don’t even have to look up; you’d recognize his touch and scent anywhere. The most comforting, familiar presence in your life surrounds you, and while it barely steadies your racing pulse, it feels like everything.

Your body shudders with a fresh wave of tears as Jungkook pulls you into him, his arms cradling you while he gently rocks you back and forth. His lips press softly against the top of your head. “‘S’ok, bug,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. “Just focus on your breathing. In and out, remember? I’m here. I’m with you. We’re here together. We’re okay.”

“Kook…” Yoongi’s strained voice cuts through, watching helplessly as you cling desperately to Jungkook’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to—”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook interrupts, his voice low, firm, almost dangerous as he speaks without taking his eyes off of you. “When she’s okay, we’re going to leave.”

Yoongi immediately agrees, his expression growing more concerned as he watches you fall apart in Jungkook’s arms, “Y-yeah-uh, yeah, I can drive you guys if—”

“If you or Jia ever drag her into your fucked-up situation again,” Jungkook finally lifts his gaze from you, staring coldly into Yoongi’s eyes as he continues, “you will both regret it.”

You’re slowly regaining control, your breathing evening out, but you’re still too drained to form words. You want to tell Jungkook that it’s not Yoongi’s fault. That you were just as much to blame. That you made this mess, too. But the words won’t come. You’re too spent, too weak to defend him.

Jungkook watches as you struggle to speak, your breath still uneven but slowly regulating. His focus is entirely on you, not caring about whatever unreadable expression Yoongi is wearing. Anger, regret—whatever the fuck, Jungkook couldn’t care less. All that matters to him is that your sobs have finally stopped and your breathing is settling.

You’re still trying to speak, no doubt in an attempt to defend your other best friend. The other best friend who’s standing a foot away from you looking like he was going to have a panic attack. Fucking pathetic, Jungkook thinks.

His gaze softens as he brushes his thumbs gently across your cheeks, wiping away the lingering tears. You pull back slightly, clearing your throat to try and gather your strength.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval, silently telling you to stop straining yourself, but he lets it slide without comment. Your hand hastily moves to wipe your nose, your chest tightening in embarrassment by the state you’re in.

Jungkook moves your hand away, lifting the bottom of his t-shirt to gently wipe under your nose, the way someone would for a baby when they couldn't blow their own.

A raspy laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it and Jungkook’s lips quirk up at the sound, a little weight lifting from his heart as he finally sees you smile. He finishes wiping your face and lets the t-shirt fall back down, his hands resting on yours where they’ve settled on his leg.

“First one in a while,” he murmurs softly, still ignoring Yoongi’s presence across the room, allowing you to play absentmindedly with his hand.

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffing one last time. “Thought they were gone… Thank you for helping m—” Your voice falters, confusion clouding your expression as you look up at him. “Wait, how are you here? Where did you—when did you—”

“He slept here. On the couch.”

Yoongi’s voice interrupts, and your gaze snaps to him, brows knitting further in confusion. What? He knew Jungkook was here? And didn’t tell you? “Wha—”

“Saw him when I went to grab water in the middle of the night,” Yoongi adds, resting casually against his dresser.

Annoyance flickers inside you, and you don’t even know why. Maybe it’s the fact that Yoongi didn’t tell you Jungkook was sleeping out there, alone on the couch. Or maybe it’s the sudden wave of nausea rising in your throat at the realization that Jungkook might have heard everything.

“You ready to go?” Jungkook’s gentle voice pulls you back to the present, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. He leans forward and grabs your jeans from the floor, handing them to you without a word. You give a quick nod, accepting them and walking to the ensuite to put them on.

A few minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom, looking a little more put together. Your face is rinsed, and your hair is tied back into a ponytail, but the redness around your eyes remains, making Jungkook’s stomach churn. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you cross the room silently.

You step forward, hugging Yoongi tightly, your voice small. “I’m really sorry, Yoongi. I just—”

“Don’t,” Yoongi cuts you off, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize, bug.”

Jungkook, who had been waiting near the doorway, catches the end of your conversation. His jaw clenches when he hears Yoongi say, “I won’t mention anything to Jia.”

You nod, assuming he means that he’ll let you break the news to her yourself. “Thanks, Yoongi. I’ll come see her later toni—”

“No, bug.” Yoongi interrupts again, his tone a little firmer this time. “I won’t say anything at all...”

You blink, confused. Your brows knit together as you search his face, trying to understand. He wanted to keep this a secret? From Jia, one of your best friends? The woman he’s in love with?

When it seems like you can’t find the words to say, Jungkook approaches quietly, your sandals in hand, nudging them toward you. You break your gaze from Yoongi to slip into them, but your eyes flick back to him, silently begging for more explanation. He offers none.

Jungkook stands close and quietly behind you, waiting for you to finish up, and he hopes you do it soon because he really doesn’t want to be in this house anymore. You finally avert your gaze from Yoongi, still confused and dazed, but suddenly desperate to leave. Jungkook reads the look instantly, repressing back what he really wants to say to Yoongi for the sake of your presence, slipping his hand into yours before leading you out of the apartment.

“Damn it,” Jungkook mutters, clicking his tongue in frustration, the sound echoing in the roomy cabin of his Jeep.

You glance over at him after fiddling with the knob of his car heater, noting his annoyed features. “Hm? You okay?”

“We left our drinks there.” A borderline adorable pout coats his lips as he sighs, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but smile.

“It’s okay.” You shrug, looking down at your lap. “Don’t want them anymore.”

Jungkook glances at you, and the moment his eyes catch your expression, his heart twists. He wants to cup your face in his hands, massage your frown away, and tell you everything will be fine. But at the same time, all he can think about is driving back to Yoongi’s apartment after he drops you off at home and beating the ever-loving shit out of him.

He’s so fucking angry.

Angry at how Yoongi would claim such a priceless fucking gift from the sweetest fucking girl and leave her hurt in the process. Angry at how he knows you’re blaming yourself for everything that happened last night when he would bet every cent to his name that you have nothing to be truly sorry for. Angry at the thought of how Jia will react, and how devastated you’re going to be. He knows Jia’s history well enough to predict that she will somehow make this all your fault.

Jungkook's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white as he takes a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault, bug,” he says as softly as he can in his vexed state.

Your eyes fill with tears again, and a sad laugh escapes you. “Of course it is.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he signals right and pulls over to the side of the road. As soon as the engine cuts off, his hand finds yours, and he turns to face you. “Bug—”

“I told him, you know,” you sniffle through a short chuckle, cringing at what a shit-show this whole ordeal is. “I told him I loved him. And-and he said he loved me too.”

Jungkook’s heart stops. “He what?” He doesn’t know if you heard his words; he barely heard them himself. But when you purse your lips and nod sarcastically, he knows that you did.

“Yup. Said that I’m pretty and sweet and funny and that anyone would be lucky to have me.” You scoff bitterfly, using the hand not in the grasp of Jungkook’s to wipe your tears. “Apparently not anyone because he clearly didn’t want me. God, I’m so pathetic. This is all just so pathetic.”

You finish wiping your face and dry your hand on your jeans, your thumb gently rubbing over Jungkook’s knuckles. “Sorry, Gukkie,” you croak, sensing the way he tensed up and went quiet, probably due to all of your whining. “I’m done, promise. No more crying.”

Jungkook remains still, his brows furrowed as his gaze is fixed on nothing in particular, lost in thought. “Gukkie?” you ask softly, nudging his hand with your finger to snap him out of it. Nothing.

You squint at him playfully, deciding to poke his cheek this time. It works, though the reaction is faint—a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, but you catch it.

Your head tilts as you move your finger from his cheek down to his lips, ready to poke again, but your focus wavers. His lips. They’re so pink. So plump. So pretty.

“You are the furthest thing from pathetic, bug.” His voice is soft, drawing your attention back to his words, but your eyes remain on his lips. You smile at the way they shape each letter, his slight lisp curling around certain syllables.

A quiet sigh leaves you, and your hand drops to the buckle of his seatbelt, releasing it with a click. You unfasten your own as well before leaning over the center console. Jungkook’s hands move instinctively, helping guide you as you crawl into his lap, melting into his embrace.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer and making sure you’re comfortable in his lap. One hand plays gently with your ponytail while the other traces soothing circles on your back. You bury your face in the curve of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent—a blend of his cologne that defied the night and the comforting aroma of soft linen that always reminds you of him.

“Don’t deserve you,” you mumble, your breath tickling his skin. His muscles relax instantly, his body turning to mush under your weight.

Cuddling like this isn’t anything new for the two of you. It’s become your go-to after a rough day at work, or at uni. Whenever you meet him at his car after class, you more often than not end up in this exact position.

Jungkook remembers that one time a classmate walked past and saw you in his lap, assuming you were doing more than just seeking comfort from your best friend. You got so embarrassed that you stopped cuddling him in his car for a while. Jungkook hadn’t cared at all, but he realized it really bothered you. So, maybe he booked his Jeep in for window tinting that night.

But even though this is routine, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from from turning into a lovesick puppy when you do end up snuggling him. Because he does. Every single time.

“If anyone deserves me, it’s you, bug,” he responds quietly.

Your hand strokes through his tousled hair, your fingers occasionally scratching his scalp the way he likes, and Jungkook has to bite back a pathetic whine. The way you hold him, the way your nose brushes against his neck, it’s too much and not enough at the same time. “I love you, Gukkie. I’m sorry for being such a bad friend.”

“I love you too, bug,” he replies easily, tugging your shirt down as it rides up when you snuggle deeper into him. “But if you say one more untrue, negative thing about yourself, you’re walking to uni tomorrow.” The half-hearted threat is followed by a gentle nudge of his head.

You pull back slightly, observing him quietly. His eyes are closed, his head resting peacefully against the seat. He looks so content, so at ease, and you wish he could stay like this forever.

Jungkook senses your gaze and squints his eyes open, a single brow raising in question. He adjusts your ponytail with a soft touch, waiting for you to say something. But you just shake your head and give him a sweet smile before climbing off his lap and settling back into your seat.

“Can we go watch that anime with the girl you said reminds you of me?”

It’s been eight days since that night. Yoongi and Jia have reunited like nothing ever happened, and it’s driving you fucking crazy. He still hasn’t told her.

You’ve seen them at university during the weekdays since then, and everything is normal. Jia has been normal, Yoongi has been normal. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Three days ago, at the peak of your anxiety from keeping the secret, you caved.

The second you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, phone gripped tightly in your shaky hands. After six long rings, Yoongi finally picked up.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“I feel fucking sick, Yoongi. Please tell her. The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to be. This isn’t okay.”

Yoongi’s sigh came low through the receiver, already giving you that sinking feeling in your chest. He's not going to tell her.

“She doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t concern her. It was just a simple mistake, and we weren’t even together at the time, bug. It's fine.”

It was just a simple mistake.

If you didn’t already feel pathetic, you sure as hell do now.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

You’ve tried convincing yourself of that ever since your phone call. But deep down, you know that if the situation were reversed, you’d want to know.

Not that you ever would be, because Jia would never do something as horrible as this to you.

Over the past week, three things have been haunting you: hurting Jia, being a shitty friend, and not feeling as heartbroken as you thought you would be when, in the span of twelve hours, Yoongi:

Told you he loved you (nice).

Slept with you (nice).

Said he was getting back with his ex-girlfriend (not so nice).

You’ve been in love with Yoongi for your entire adult life and so much of your childhood that you can’t even pinpoint when it all truly started.

When you think of Min Yoongi, you think of that warm, fuzzy feeling that swirls in your chest whenever someone you like walks into a room. The excitement of scanning the crowd at a party, hoping to catch a glimpse of their figure. That extra spark of joy when it was your joke that made them laugh.

Or, at least, that’s what you used to think.

Now when you think of Min Yoongi, you think of a friend. Someone you care about. Someone you appreciate. Someone you love… but aren’t in love with.

The events of last Friday night might very well be the reason for the sudden, drastic change in your heart. Maybe you’ve finally developed enough self-respect to stop chasing after someone who clearly doesn’t want you in that way.

You ignore the voice in the back of your mind that snarkily whispers, “Yeah, just… like… ten years late, honey.”

But, still. You aren’t 100% sure. And it’s driving you fucking mad.

Sure, you could just chalk it up to you being so hurt that the pain, you don’t know, numbed itself out?

But that wouldn’t be honest.

You know yourself. You’re an over-planner, an overthinker, and maybe (most definitely) an overreactor.

Over the years, you’d curated a long, arduous list of ways you thought you’d handle Yoongi’s rejection when the time inevitably came, hoping to better prepare yourself for it.

But not caring? Yeah, that wasn’t on the list. It wasn’t even in the fucking notebook.

You aren’t going to say that you’re unhappy about not being a weepy ball of tears and snot for an entire month, (which was on the list—quite high on it, in fact) but you just can’t help but be completely puzzled.

This isn’t you. You don’t… not care.

If there’s one thing you’ve always done, it’s care.

So, you can’t, for the life of you, figure out why you don’t.

"Caramel coffee frappé for Jeon Jung—huh?" you pause mid-callout, glancing up as the name on the cup registers in your brain. Your eyes land on your best friend, standing close on the other side of the pick-up counter.

"Hi, bug." Jungkook smiles softly, his hand already reaching for the drink that’s frozen in midair as you blink at him in surprise.

"Hi, Gukkie," you grin, the surprise melting into delight as you grab a paper straw from beside you and unwrap it for him. "What are you doing here? I don’t finish until four."

He shrugs, taking the straw from your outstretched hand and popping it into the cup. "Bored at home," he says, taking a long sip. "Thought I’d come early and—mmm, shit, bug, this is nice."

Your eyes crinkle in satisfaction as you watch him down almost a quarter of the frappé in one go. "I told you it’s the best drink we have," you nod knowingly, before a small frown starts to form. "But it’s not your usual, so I didn’t know it was yours… Should’ve told me you were here so I could’ve added my discount, Gukkie."

Jungkook just keeps drinking, hoping the brain freeze would distract him from the urge to reach across the counter and wipe the pretty little pout from your lips. "They gave it to me anyway," he mumbles around the straw. "Didn’t even ask."

And he wouldn’t have. Jungkook has money—and plenty of it. More than he’ll ever actually need. But it’s mostly blood money from his guilty father, which he has no problem in taking it without so much as a thank you. You know all this, yet you still badger him to use your 25% staff discount whenever he visits you at work. Cute.

You smile at that, glancing over at the register where Bella’s back from her break. She knows Jungkook’s with you, so it must’ve been her who added the discount. "Good. I’m glad," you hum, leaning against the counter, chin resting on your hand as you look at him. "What are you going to do? It’s only two-thirty."

Jungkook grabs a complimentary caramel drizzle bottle, aiming it over his cup. He probably doesn’t mean to be so rough—it’s just that he’s naturally strong—and you watch as nearly half the bottle spurts into his drink with one squeeze. “I’ll just hang out here until you’re done. Got any breaks left?”

You laugh, reaching over and grabbing the bottle from him. "You’re gonna get a stomachache, Gukkie." Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "But yeah. One left. I’ll take it now?"

Jungkook scoops up some of the caramel with his straw, a slight smirk on his lips as he shoves it in his mouth. "Okay," he nods, gesturing toward the door with his head. "Come out for a smoke?"

The cool breeze is a gorgeous contrast to the warm, stuffy air behind the coffee bar as you burst through the door of the campus café. Jungkook holds it open for you, and as your shoe hits the pavement, you instinctively grab his hand, pulling him along with you.

It’s only another twenty seconds before you reach the secluded smoker’s spot near the outdoor stock corral. Leaning against the wall, you plop to the ground and giggle when Jungkook pretends to get yanked down with you, falling beside you with exaggerated force.

You shift into a criss-cross legged position, letting go of his hand so he can dig his lighter from his hoodie pocket. His shoulder becomes your makeshift pillow as you curl your right arm with his left, watching as he sparks the cigarette that dangles from his lips. Once the cherry glows red, he shoves the lighter away and rests his hand gently on your knee.

“How’s your shift going?” Jungkook asks, smoke curling from his mouth as he tilts his head away from you to blow it out of your direction.

“Good, it’s kinda quiet today,” you hum softly, eyes drifting shut. The mix of tobacco and Hermès cologne definitely shouldn’t make you feel so peaceful. But on him, it does.

“Good.” He nods, his gaze raking over you properly now that you’ve shrugged off your apron. Light-washed jeans, a little white singlet, black cotton cardi. He takes a deep drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before he comments, “Look so pretty today, bug.”

Your eyes flutter open as you blink up at him, beaming. “Really?”

He nods, holding the cigarette away with his right hand as he reaches over to tug gently at the cardigan with his left. “This new? S’nice.”

"It is," you nod happily, leaning back and twisting a little to show it off to him. He bites back a smile. “Just came yesterday. It's from my online Polly order. Remember?”

“Mhm,” he says, slipping an arm around you as you settle back into his side. A comfy silence stretches until you break it.

“Don’t wanna go to Yoongi and Jia’s tonight,” you murmur, your voice low, strained. The calm on your face shifts into something more pained, and Jungkook doesn't like that.

“Then we won’t,” he responds easily, tilting his chin up to exhale the smoke away from your face. “Movie night?”

You let out a sad sigh, head tilting up in time to catch the way the muscle in his jaw moves as he exhales. “Already canceled yesterday. If we do it again today, Jia will know something’s up.”

“So?” Jungkook turns to you, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at your glossy eyes. “I’ll call them. Tell them I’m sick and you need to take care of me or something,” he shrugs, flicking the ash off the cigarette.

“You think that’ll work?” You speak with a slight muffle as your cheek presses against his bicep.

“Don’t care if it doesn’t,” he replies honestly, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you melt further into his hold.

You shake your head, amused, the motion shifting against his arm. “They’re our best friends, Gukkie—”

“You’re my best friend,” he cuts you off simply, finishing the cigarette and tossing the stub into the makeshift ashtray nearby.

Your eyebrows scrunch at his stubbornness. “And you’re mine.” You roll your eyes, trying to keep the smile pulling at your lips under control. “But you know what I mean…”

Jungkook sniffs, the chill finally settling in now that the cigarette's heat is gone. “Yeah, I know, bug. But you shouldn’t have to feel like this about going over there. Yoongi put you in an awkward fucking position, even if he doesn’t think so.”

You sigh again. “I feel like I’m overreacting about all of this. He says she doesn’t need to know, and maybe—”

“Such a pussy,” Jungkook mutters, annoyance evident as his thumb continues rubbing slow circles on your knee.

You snort at his bluntness, leaning into his arm. “I won’t say anything as long as he doesn’t want me to. But I can’t face her. Not outside of school. If I do, I might just word vomit everything the second I see her.”

Jungkook rests his head against yours, crooning. “Yeah, you do word vomit a lot.”

You close your eyes through a snicker, squeezing his arm teasingly. “Hm, thanks, Gukkie.”

A few quiet moments pass. Jungkook nudges his nose gently against the top of your head, his voice low when he speaks again. “You know you’re not ‘overreacting’ at all, right? Yoongi is a piece of shit for what he did. And even someone like Jia deserves the whole truth.”

You ignore his jab at Jia, having tried—and failed—many times to convince him that she’s actually a good person. “You keep acting like Yoongi did this all by himself, Gukkie. I’m just as guilty as he is.”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“Yes, really,” you insist, poking his side gently. “It was completely consensual—”

“I’m not just talking about the sex, bug,” Jungkook swallows hard, more than unenthusiastic about delving into the specifics of your night with Yoongi. One run-through was enough—and even then, he barely held back the contents of his stomach.

“It’s everything else. Before and after. Telling you he loved you like it was some obligation when you admitted your feelings? Dropping the news about getting back with Jia how he did? You’d been awake for five fucking minutes, bug. You were naked and vulnerable in his fucking bed.”

Jungkook pauses roughly to regain his composure, and you instinctively move closer, feeling his anger on your behalf. You’re about to tell him he’s right, that you understand, but he isn’t done.

“And then for him to not even give his girlfriend the bare fucking minimum of being able to make an informed decision about their relationship? Fucking coward. What if she doesn’t want to stay with him after finding out? He’ll have already taken months of her life from her. Yoongi is prolonging the pain for everyone involved. And I don’t know how long he intends to keep this shit going, but if Jia catches on, and she takes it out on you? Bug, I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Gukkie,” you gently interrupt, shifting your arms from around his bicep to wrap around his waist instead.

As you hug him close, your legs shift to tangle with his because you know he likes the contact. His rigid muscles gradually begin to ease, and you settle against him with a soft sigh. “I’m so sorry, Gukkie. I should’ve thought about what this might bring up for you.”

Although not an exact replica, the situation had similarities to what Jungkook witnessed in his childhood; his father being an unfaithful piece of shit to his mom.

It began with small actions like working late, claiming extra shifts on weekends... withholding the whole truth from his partner.

Jungkook’s mom, an amaing woman and a second to your own, stayed in the marriage for as long as she could—for Jungkook and his older brother, Jisung. But eventually, she realized leaving was the best thing she could do for them.

You were in your early teens when the Jeons temporarily moved in with your family until his parents settled their divorce and his mom found a new place for them to go.

Jungkook’s father, a powerful and successful proprietor, was his role model during his entire childhood, and when he lost that bond, it broke him.

Even though some of your best memories together came from that period—sleepovers, movie marathons, him teaching you how to sing—you knew the divorce had a greater impact on Jungkook than he liked to let on.

However, he still likes to joke darkly that if he could relive those days with you, he’d go through the divorce all over again without hesitation. That always results in a wack in the arm from you.

Jungkook shakes his head and his lips part, no doubt to tell you not to apologize, you butt in again. “You’re right, Gukkie. What Yoongi did, what he’s doing, it’s wrong.” His hand moves from your knees to curl around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Okay, this won’t just go away. Jia deserves to know.” You glance up at him to find his eyes already on you. “Tonight?”

Jungkook’s gaze softens. He nods, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, careful not to disturb your tidy bun. As you trace slow circles on his waist with your fingertips, he pulls out his phone and shows you the time—2:58pm. You gasp, scrambling to your feet.

Jungkook laughs, standing up and letting you drag him back toward the café, ready to take the blame from your shift manager, Jimin, for you being back fifteen minutes late. Park Jimin loves him, after all.

“Bug! Kookie!” Jia’s excited voice rings out from the room she shares with Yoongi as you and Jungkook step into the oh-so-familiar apartment.

Yoongi closes the door quietly behind you both, the hug he usually greets you with noticeably absent. Instead, he reaches out to clasp Jungkook’s hand in a brief bro-shake, which Jungkook returns half-heartedly, before Yoongi heads straight for the kitchen.

Jungkook watches Yoongi’s retreat with a slight furrow in his brow, his jaw tightening as he registers Yoongi’s failure to acknowledge you at all. When he looks over to you, you just shrug, not as bothered by his childish antics as you thought you would be.

After your shift ended, Jungkook drove you back to your place to grab a change of clothes. Then, you headed to his apartment so you could use his shower—the one with the best fucking water pressure ever.

Your lease is up at the end of the year, and then you'll finally be moving into Jungkook's place.

Living on your own for senior year seemed like a good idea when you decided to move out of the dorms, but that novelty wore off real fucking fast. Being away from Jungkook was not ideal and you hated not being able to see him whenever you wanted. His dorm wasn’t too far, but it was still on the other side of campus, and overnight visits to dorms of the opposite gender were prohibited.

Jungkook didn’t care, of course—he snuck over anyway, stacking up a few too many strikes from student monitors and professors who caught him.

So, when you moved from the dorms into a your cute little flat, Jungkook did the same, finding one just a few minutes away. There were no free spaces at your building for him to take, so he told you to move into his instead—that plenty of apartments were available. But when you saw the rent price, you just laughed. You knew he had every intention of covering it anyway, but you couldn't do that to him, no matter how much you wanted to live together.

That’s why you’ve been working more lately. Shifts at the campus café during the week and extra hours at Seoul Cinema on weekends. With what you’ve saved, plus a little help from your mom, you’ll soon be moving in with your best friend and gaining 24/7 access to him and that gorgeous fucking shower.

Earlier, when you were about to step into the bathroom, you called Jia to confirm what time she wanted you guys over. That’s when she casually revealed that the plan for tonight had changed—that everyone was heading to Joonie’s, your friend group’s favorite club, instead.

Panic flared in your chest and you almost blurted everything to her right there on the phone. Sensing it, Jungkook took the phone from your hand, calmly telling Jia that you’d be there at nine before hanging up.

You poked at him for ending the call without letting her respond, but deep down, you were relieved. You knew you had to tell her everything in person. If not for the respect of your thirteen-year-long friendship, but because doing it over the phone just felt so cowardly.

You know telling her tonight, before you all head out to drink, is risky. She could blow up, scream, and tell you to fuck off—which you’re fully expecting—but at least it’ll be in the privacy of her own home.

So now, here you are, standing awkwardly in the apartment that’s haunted your dreams for the past eight straight nights. Gone are your comfy pants and Jungkook’s warm hoodie. Instead, you’re squeezed into a black mini-skirt and a tight little top, wishing you were anywhere else in the world.

Deflated, you let Jungkook take the bottle of tequila from your arms as you make your way toward the room where Jia's still getting ready. The door is slightly ajar, and you give it a gentle knock.

“Ji?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, so you clear your throat and take a cautious step inside when she tells you to come in. As soon as you catch sight of your beautiful best friend, a smile automatically paints your lips.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Buggy!” Jia grins, snapping the cap onto her eyeliner before tossing it aside and striding over to you. When the long-legged girl extends her arms for a hug, you embrace her tightly.

“Hey, Ji. You look so good."

“You too, babe. You wore red like I asked! God, we look so hot matching.” Jia smirks as she pulls away, letting her eyes roam over your outfit before tilting her head in thought.

You swallow, waiting patiently for her assessment. Usually, she finds one or two minor things that could be improved for your clubbing outfits, and you pray she doesn’t find anything, because it’s a thirty-minute drive back to your place to make the adjustments.

Not that you think that tonight's plans will still go ahead after what you’re about to say.

To your surprise and relief, she nods in approval before turning back to her floor-length mirror. Jack Harlow plays lowly from her phone that rests on her dresser, and she hums along to it, fixing a few pieces of hair that have fallen out of place.

When you’re quiet for a long moment, something usually very out of the ordinary for you, Jia catches your eye in the mirror and her head tilts. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow. Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Jia’s brows knit together as she turns away from the mirror to face you directly. “What is it, bug? Is it Yoongi?”

Your heart plummets. “Wh-what?”

“He told me you stayed over last Friday? After Kookie took me to my mom’s?” Jia continues, her tone curious but confused. “Said you thought you could handle his whiskey, and he didn’t want to leave you on the couch, so you slept in our room. I almost didn’t believe it…”

“I—” you stammer.

“As if you’d ever willingly touch that disgusting whiskey he drinks. You can barely handle soju.” Jia chuckles.

“HAH! Yeah, you know me! Can’t handle my hard liquor… Would-would put me right on my ass!”

Jia’s amused squint deepens as she eyes you closely. “You’re acting weird.” She tilts her head with a teasing smile. “Did you have one of Kookie’s special cigarettes again? Because you know those are—”

“Jia.” Fuck. Word vomit. It’s happening. “I need to—”

“Change those shoes? I know, I was going to say something before, but you looked kinda sad… Hold on, I’ll—”

“No, Jia. I have to tell—”

The bedroom door swings open before you can finish. The words die in your throat as you whip your head toward the entrance. Tears well in your eyes as you turn to see who it is. Out of the two most likely options it could’ve been, unfortunately, it is not the one you hoped it was.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickers between you and Jia. The tension in the room rises dramatically, but Jia remains unfazed.

“Jagi,” Jia greets him with a bright, oblivious smile. “Just telling buggy how cute she looks in red. Doesn’t she look amazing?”

Yoongi nods at Jia, but his eyes are locked on you. There’s guilt swimming in his gaze, but it’s overpowered by something stronger. Desperation.

Earlier today, after talking to Jia, you called Yoongi to confess that you couldn’t keep it hidden anymore. That you were going to tell her tonight.

His reaction was beyond unhappy. After five minutes of him practically begging you to keep quiet, he abruptly ended the call when he realized you wouldn’t change your mind.

“Jagiya, can I borrow Y/N for a sec—”

“No.” The words leave your lips so firmly that you’re almost surprised.

Behind Yoongi, you catch sight of Jungkook’s approaching figure. His head tilts slightly—his nonverbal way of asking if you’re okay in situations where you guys can’t speak. Ignoring Yoongi’s dejected look, you give Jungkook a small nod before turning back to Jia.

“What’s going on?” Jia’s eyes dart between you and Yoongi. “Why are you both acting so weird?”

“I’m so sorry, Jia—” You begin, your voice shaking.

“Y/N,” Yoongi pleads, but you refuse to look at him.

“Yoongi, just give them some space, man—”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Kook,” Yoongi spits back, taking a further step into the bedroom.

Your brows furrow as your head snaps toward Yoongi. “Don’t talk to him like that. I’m telling her—”

“Tell me what?” Jia huffs as she steps forward, and soon the couple are both staring at you with two very different strands of frustrated expressions.

Your heart pounds at both the lack of distance and the looks you’re receiving, but you push through. You can do this. “Ji, on Friday—”

“Jagiya, wait, don’t liste—”

Jungkook’s scoff cuts Yoongi off, and you can see both men getting more and more heated by the second. He doesn’t take his eyes off Yoongi when he speaks to you. “Bug, take Jia into the living room. I need to talk to Yoongi.”

Yoongi turns to glare at Jungkook. “Stay the fuck out of this, Jeongguk.”

“Or what?” Jungkook’s reply is immediate, his brows raising as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

“Y/N, just spit it out. What are you saying?” Jia demands, her voice rising with frustration.

“I—”

“Don’t, Y/N,” Yoongi warns, stepping forward, but Jungkook stops him.

“Stop fucking walking closer to her, Yoongi—”

“You have no fucking right, Y/N—”

“Y/N, just tell me—”

“No, Jagi, stop—”

“Yoongi, fuck off! Just let her tell me—”

“I slept with him.”

All the noise in the room dies out at your words. Jungkook is standing beside you now, his arm brushing lightly against yours, but you can barely feel it. All you can feel is Jia’s eyes on you, her expression completely unreadable.

Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I slept with Yoongi when Jeongguk was taking you to your mom’s. Jia, you need to know how fucking sorry I am. I wasn’t thinking straight, and-and it just happened—”

“It just happened?” Jia’s voice cuts through your apology with a pitying laugh. Her eyes never leave yours, not even to glance at her boyfriend, who’s running his hand through his hair roughly, his eyes red-rimmed. For someone who said it was so unimportant and didn’t matter, he sure isn’t acting like it.

“No, I—no. It didn’t just happen. I did it. And I can’t explain how fucking sorry I am—”

“Yeah, you said that already,” Jia interrupts, her tone dismissive. Her gaze rakes over your body as though she’s bored.

You stand there, struggling to find the right words. “I know I broke your trust, Jia, and I’m so s—”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, bug…” Jia rolls her eyes, brushing her hair back over her shoulder before turning to check her reflection in the mirror.

Your mouth snaps shut.

Where’s the screaming? Where’s the kicking you out of her apartment? Where’s the—

“Who initiated it?” Jia’s tone is uninterested as she runs a finger gently around the edge of her slightly smudged lip liner.

You glance at Yoongi, but his eyes are glued to the floor. “I don’t remember,” you admit quietly. The moment was a blur—his confession had thrown you off balance. It could’ve been him, but maybe it was you.

Jia gives you a skeptical look through the mirror, as if she doesn’t believe you, but then she turns to Yoongi. “Who initiated it, Jagi?”

As Yoongi hesitates, you feel Jungkook’s eyes on you again. You glance up at him, the boy who had been seething with anger just minutes ago, only to find him looking at you in concern. Blinking away the tears, you reach out to brush the back of his hand with your pinky finger.

“I did, Jagiya. I’m sorry. I was hurt that you left me, and I needed to forget,” Yoongi finally says.

His explanation seems to bring some relief to Jia’s face, and you brace yourself for the inevitable ache in your chest at his words. But it doesn’t come. If anything, Jungkook is more affected by what he had to say, judging by the way his jaw tightens and his hand clenches into a fist beneath your pinky.

“Okay,” Jia nods at Yoongi before reaching for her clutch on the dresser. As she casually tucks her phone and keys inside, you glance over at Jungkook, your confusion evident, but the look he returns is calm—like he expected this.

With a roll of her eyes, Jia glances back at the three of you. “Did you bring the tequila like I asked?”

When her eyes meet yours, you nod instinctively, trying your best to mask your unease. “Yes. It’s, um, in the kitchen. Jia, is everything—”

“We weren’t together, Y/N. It’s not like you’re still fucking… are you?”

“No.” You choke instantly, almost shuddering at the thought.

“Okay, then. Let’s start pres and then go.” With that, Jia walks out of the room, leaving you standing there, completely dumbfounded.

This isn’t what you were expecting.

You’ve never experienced Jia’s anger firsthand, but you’ve witnessed it many times before, and this is the last reaction you could’ve ever expected.

Maybe she’s in shock, and it’ll come ot later. Or maybe… maybe she really doesn’t think it’s a big deal? She’s so incredible like that, so understanding.

The room stays quiet as Jungkook remains rooted beside you. Yoongi lets out a short sniffle before trailing after Jia without glancing at either of you. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you and Jungkook alone in his bedroom.

As soon as Yoongi’s gone, Jungkook turns to face you, the warmth of his body washing a sense of comfort over you that you don’t deserve in the slightest.

“Are you alright, bug?” he asks carefully, his hand lifting to adjust the strap of your top that had shifted slightly across your shoulder.

“Of course I’m okay. I just… I don’t understand, she’s not even mad at me—”

“Good. She shouldn’t be—”

“What? Yes, she should, Jeongguk.” His brows furrow. “Please, stop acting like I did nothing wrong—”

“You think I didn’t notice how you took all the blame when you were telling her?”

“It doesn’t matter how it came off, Jeongguk.” His expression tenses further.  “It doesn’t matter how I sugar coat it. The fact is, we messed up. And she’s so fucking nice that she didn’t even—”

“Nice?” He almost scoffs, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “Bug, did you really not see that response for what it truly was? Come on…”

“What are you talking about?” You try to keep your voice down despite the door being closed and a random Drake song pounding through the walls. “You saw the same thing I did! She barely even said anything—”

“Exactly. She barely said anything. We’ve known her for how many years? And when has Seong Jia ever not said something? Think about it, bug. She’s going to hold onto this and use it against you—”

“Why do you always think the worst? Why do you think so poorly of her—”

“Because I see the way she fucking treats you, Y/N!” Jungkook takes a step back, his voice rising as frustration pulses through him. “Even if you don’t see it, I see it.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. In the fifteen years you’ve known Jungkook, you’ve only had two heated arguments—this being the third. And, though you push the thought aside, you can’t ignore that all three fights were about Jia.

“This—this blind loyalty you have for me is flattering,” you mutter bitterly through your tears, “but you’re wrong. She’s a good friend.”

“Blind loyalty?” He forces a laugh, incredulous. “The only thing blind is you for not being able to tell when someone’s treating you like shit!”

“Yeah?” you scoff.

“Yeah.” He nods mockingly, taking a step closer. “You think you haven’t earned my fucking loyalty?”

“Oh, I know I have.” You cross your arms defensively. “If I’ve earned anything, it’s your fucking loyalty! But you need to acknowledge that I can make mistakes too—”

“I do acknowledge when you make mistakes.”

“No, you don’t, Jeongguk!” Your hands fly out in a frustrated gesture as he closes the distance between you even more. “You didn’t when I overfed your goldfish and it died from bloating! You didn’t when I signed up for that People Magazine free trial using your card, and you got charged for an entire year! And now you’re doing it again—”

“That shit doesn’t matter, bug!”

“You’re saying this doesn’t matter?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“How could it possibly not matter—”

“Because I know what it feels like to be so in love with somebody that it consumes you.”

Your mouth snaps shut. As Jungkook continues, his gaze remains fixed on you, but his eyes are distant. “That any sign of that feeling truly being reciprocated would make you do unspeakable fucking things.”

The frustration coursing through your veins fizzles out, replaced by a sudden, painful wave of pure jeal—confusion.

“What?” It comes out as a whisper.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, his eyes just continuing to trace the lines of your face.

“You love somebody?” The bitterness in your tone is obvious, but you don’t can't stop. “We tell each other everything… and you didn’t care to tell me that you’re in love with someone?”

His silence is so unsettling that it prompts a painful laugh from you. “Oh, okay.” You give a sharp nod, “if that’s how you want to be. Fine. I’ll just start keeping fucking secrets from you too, then.”

The lack of response from him only fuels the fire inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words keep pouring out. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Is it someone from uni? What the fuck, Jeongguk—”

“It’s nobody you know.”

“I—” You stare at him, your eyes wide, disbelief flooding your system as your arms drop to your sides. “I know everyone you know!”

This time, you don’t even try to stop the tears that are building behind your lashes from spilling over. But the fiery, sour feeling burning a hole in your gut is too strong, too raw, and you’re not ready to acknowledge what it might mean.

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t lie to me.” Your voice trembles at the end as you lift a shaky hand to wipe under your nose, choking back a sob as tears slip into your breath.

Jungkook’s expression softens as he takes a step forward, cautiously reaching out his hand to touch your arm.

He tries not to think that your reaction is anything but a best friend being upset that their best friend didn’t tell them about an important part of their life.

He tries not to think that your reaction is because you can’t stand to think of him being in love with someone else.

He tries not to think about how much every cell in his body has ignited at the thought of you being possessive of him. Jealous of the person he’s in love with.

But it’s hard. So fucking hard. Because all he can see is the pain in your eyes, the hurt etched across your face.

Such a sight would usually bring him to his knees and have him doing anything to make the pain go away. But now, as fucked up as it is, all he feels is hope. Hope that maybe the reason you’re so upset is because you feel the same way he does.

“I’ve never lied to you, bug.” His voice is soft as he rubs up and down your bare arms gently.

“Hm,” you croak, wiping more tears away. “Until now.”

“Until now,” Jungkook echoes quietly, lifting his hand to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that won't fucking stop.

You don’t know why you’re crying harder than you have in God knows how long. Why you don’t push Jungkook’s hand away even though you’re mad at him. Why you’re even mad in the first place.

Well, like you said earlier: you are an overreactor.

But it’s not like you and Jungkook haven’t had lovers in the past.

You had your first boyfriend last year, a sweet senior named Kim Taehyung. He was a great guy—kind, easygoing, gorgeous. He got along with most of your friends, and you were especially glad Jungkook liked him as his approval was the toughest to earn.

But something about Jungkook must have rubbed Taehyung the wrong way.

Before you and Tae officially started dating, you’d first met at a frat party that you attended with Jungkook as Yoongi and Jia had stayed in that night. The two of them got on super well, and you guys had even teamed up for beer pong together.

But after a few dates, and you eventually saying yes when he asked to go steady, things began to change.

Taehyung started asking you to sleep over at his frat more often, something you didn't really like to do (and something Jungkook certainly didn't like you doing either).

Soon, he was asking for details on which friends you were with whenever you hung out with someone. He even began to ask to switch to FaceTime calls when you’d mention specific names and leave out others.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You’re a naturally clingy person too, so maybe it was just his way of showing he cared. But when he requested that you spend less time with just one friend in particular, that was where you drew the line.

It confused you, especially since you’d already cut back from spending all of your free time with Jungkook to about 40%, but he still wanted more. You’d told Taehyung from the start that Jungkook was your best friend and a huge part of your life, that you guys have always been close. He had no problem with that. Well, in the beginning, at least.

Naturally, you told Jungkook about Taehyung’s request, and you’d never seen him so angry. You reassured him not to worry, that it all wasn't sitting well with you, that you'd be ending things soon.

Jungkook relaxed at that.

He also dropped to his knees that night and sent up a prayer to the Goddess that it was finally fucking over. But you didn’t need to know that part.

As for Jungkook, he’s never been in relationship. He has been with two girls, though. Park Iseul and Cho Jiwon.

Iseul was great. You and her shared an Economics lecture, and you even used to sit next to her during classes.

She’d usually ask about Jungkook, and you’d give her updates, letting her know he was doing well. But whenever you’d try to pass on her messages to Jungkook, he would just refuse to hear them, asking you to stop sitting near her.

It seemed like Iseul picked up on the hint since she gradually found other seats during class, and so did you. You didn’t mind; she was still super nice, but you did scold Jungkook for his behavior. He apologized, but only to you, not to her.

Your encounter with Cho Jiwon, however, was… different.

‹ ‹ ‹

“Uhhh…”

The voice caught you off guard, making you turn from shutting the door behind you. Sitting at Jungkook’s kitchen island with a bowl of muesli, was a female around your age. You glanced at your surroundings, then the key in your hand to make sure this was indeed your best friend's apartment. It was.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted the pretty girl with a nod, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Hello?” she responded, confused. Her eyes roamed over your Seoul Cinema uniform before narrowing slightly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you responded quietly. Unsure of what to say or do, you hesitated. “And… um, you?”

“Jiwon,” she replied, squinting a little. “Are you his girlfriend or something? Because he said he was single, but I should’ve known; he literally stopped in the middle of sex last night to answer a text…” Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, “Wait, what was your name again?”

You blinked, a frown edging onto your face for her. You opened your mouth to repeat yourself when Jungkook stumbled out of his bedroom, rubbing a sleepy hand over his face.

“Bug?" He croaked, making his way toward you. "You okay? I was gonna come get you in a bit.” His bare chest was still warm as he wrapped his arms around you.

You pulled back from the hug with a quick apology. “Sorry, I got ready early and just walked over,” you said, gesturing toward Jiwon, still munching on her cereal. “Didn’t know you had someone over, though. I should’ve texted. I can ask Taehyung to drop me off at work and we can reschedule?”

Jungkook looked down at you, confused, then followed your gaze to Jiwon, who was still seated at his kitchen counter. He blinked in surprise, as though he had only just registered her presence. “Uh…are you okay?”

Your gaze snapped to his in surprise, and Jiwon’s expression turned sour. “What?”

“I thought you were leaving…” Jungkook’s brows knitted in confusion, eyeing her attire, which consisted only of his t-shirt. He hated that you were seeing this. “Did you need money for an Uber?”

“Jeongguk,” you frowned, shifting your bag on your shoulder as you glared at him. But Jiwon just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You could do so much better, girl,” she sneered at you, tugging off Jungkook’s t-shirt and tossing it at him as she got up. He caught it with little reaction, watching indifferently as she headed toward his room in her bra and underwear.

You were about to nudge him to apologize when she reemerged in her dress a moment later, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “Way better than a lying cheater, anyway.”

You opened your mouth to clarify. “No, Jiwon, we’re not—”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jihyo,” Jungkook cut in boredly. “So, did you need money for that Uber?”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him in utter disbelief while Jiwon just shook her head with a scoff. She angrily brushed past him and left, slamming the door behind her.

“Jeongguk, that was so rude.”

Jungkook just shrugged, tipping her cereal down the disposal and rinsing the bowl. “Bug, I already told her I had something to do in the morning and I’d need her to leave by 8 if she wanted to stay over.”

“I wish you would've told me. I wouldn’t have just barged in without calling first. That was so awkward.”

“You never need to call when you’re coming over,” he gave you a look. “And it wasn’t awkward.” He shrugged again, opening his dishwasher and putting the singular bowl and spoon in before starting a cycle.

“It was a little awkward,” you murmured, sighing. “You could have at least offered her a ride home.”

“Okay, okay, bug. I’ll repent for my sins later,” he nodded, walking over to slip your bag off your shoulder and set it on the couch. “You okay, though? Why’d you come over so early? I thought we were seeing the 10 o'clock movie since your shift starts at 1?”

You just shrugged, eyes shifting to the floor. Jungkook’s big hands cupped your face, gently tilting it up so you were looking at him. "Hm?" he prompted, squishing your cheeks slightly, coaxing your lips into a cute little pout.

When he let go enough for you to speak, you mumbled, “Dunno…haven’t seen you in a few days. Missed you.”

His brows knitted together, and his arms slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I missed you more, bug. What’s up, though? Did something happen?”

You exhaled, leaning into his chest as your arms wrapped around him. “No, just…feels weird not seeing you every day. I don't like it.”

His heart thumped at your words, and his fingers traced small circles along your back. “I get it. It's weird for me too. But your boyfriend probably doesn't like it very much, hm?”

You pulled back slightly to frown, “Gukkie—”

“Kidding,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, resting his head in the nape of your neck. He was most certainly not kidding. “I’m gonna shower, and then we can have some breakfast before we go, okay?”

You nodded, scratching his back a little as he pulled away, heading toward the bathroom while you settled on the couch to wait.

Breakfast was yummy. The movie was great. You and Taehyung broke up a week later.

› › ›

“Can you please tell me who it is?” you ask, looking up at him with a sniffle, feeling utterly defeated. You need to know.

Jungkook has never denied you when you ask him for something. Ever.

You would usually never take advantage of such a gift, but right now, you’re desperate. You know that this feeling won’t go away until he tells you. You need to know.

“I can.” His hand still rests on your cheek, his thumb pausing its soft caress as your tears finally stop. But even then, he doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed somewhere on the lower part of your face.

“Will you?” you ask, trying to catch his eye, but his gaze remains fixed on the bottom half of your face.

“I will,” he confirms tensely, reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet yours. His irises are a little darker than usual. “But I won’t tell you their name... I want you to guess for me, bug.”

Your brows furrow harshly, and you take a step back, not in the mood for games. But Jungkook immediately follows suit, as if he expected your movements. He easily closes the distance between you without losing the contact between your face and his hand.

“You’re really playing with me right now? Seriously, Jeong—”

“She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Well, okay then.

You stop yourself from flinching, eyes snapping up to his to find them already locked on yours.

“She’s so fucking funny. Makes me laugh harder than anyone else in the world. And she doesn't even try.”

Yep. You’ve heard enough.

You swallow hard and raise your hand in an attempt to stop him, your mind racing for words. The fingers of his free hand wrap easily around your risen palm, bringing it to rest flat against his chest.

“All she has to do is walk in the room, and my heart beats so fucking hard that I’m scared she’s gonna hear it one day.”

You feel it—the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Your breath catches in your throat, and when your eyes meet his, you try to look away from the intensity, but you can’t.

No matter how foggy your vision becomes with tears, no matter how badly your hand trembles against his chest, no matter how hard it is to breathe with him looking at you like that—you can’t look away.

“I check my phone every five fucking minutes when we’re apart, just to see if she’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about her.”

Jungkook’s figure becomes a watery, blurry blob because you refuse to blink, as if the millisecond that your eyes are closed will somehow cause you to miss something crucial.

“She’s the first person I think of when I open my eyes in the morning,” he says quietly, “and the last when I fall asleep. I’m reminded of her by every single fucking thing. Even a stupid little toy figurine that looks nothing like her.”

At that, something inside you snaps, and without a second thought, you shove his hands away from you. Before he can react, your hands slide up to the back of his neck, pulling him down and pressing his mouth firmly against yours. Your eyes fall shut at the warmth of his lips, and then it happens.

Bursts of color explode behind your closed eyelids, vibrant and electric, filling every corner of your mind.

A surge of relief sweeps through your veins, washing away every single thing that came before this moment in a wave of perfect clarity.

Your fingers tighten their grip on the back of his neck, feeling his surprise blend into pure pleasure. His hands slip to your sides as he pulls you closer, every muscle in his body loosening as he melts into the kiss. It’s warm, soft, sweet. Your mouths are closed, eyes shut, simply savoring the feeling of being with the person you care about most in the entire world.

You’re happy. You’re relieved. And for the first time in the last eight days, you’re not confused in the slightest.

"Any guesses?" Jungkook murmurs against your lips as you pull back slightly for air.

You laugh through the tears that had spilled out before you kissed, as his hands lift from your hips to brush them away. "Hmm," you hum, leaning into his hand on your face, "Jia?"

“Ooh, close…” He squints teasingly with a smirk, his thumb swiping away a tear that had fallen to your pouty lip. “Just think, like, five times less bitchy and ten times hotter.”

A watery laugh escapes you, and you fall forward, resting your forehead against his chest. You sniffle and shake your head. “I can’t believe you just confessed your love for me in Yoongi and Jia’s bedroom.” Jungkook’s soft chuckle fills the room, making your heart flutter. “That’s such a you thing to do,” you add as you pull back to look up at him.

“You’re not wrong,” he replies, his smile softening as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

His hand finds yours, and he glances toward the door, a faint awareness in his eyes. He’s not sure how many songs have played while you’ve been holed up together, but it’s been long enough to raise suspicion. “C’mon, bug,” he murmurs, gently tugging you toward the door.

But your brows knit together as he tries to lead you out. “What?”

Jungkook turns back, his expression relaxed and a little curious. “Hm?”

“I—” You pause, caught off guard by how casually he seems ready to move on. “You don’t want to talk about… things?”

His eyes glimmer with amusement as he steps closer. “Things?”

“You just told me you’re in love with me, and kissed me, and—"

“You kissed me,” he teases softly, his lips quirking up when you glare at him with the cutest, slightly swollen pout.

“You don’t want me to… say anything? To say it back?” you ask quietly, letting him take your other hand into his hold so he has both of them, tugging you a little closer.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes track the movement, unable to forget the way they felt against yours. He’s so close now that the heat of his body warms the space between you, the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of the cigarette he had on the drive over swirling around you.

“I didn’t tell you for something in return, bug,” he says gently, his thumbs tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “I told you because you wanted to know,” he adds with a slight shrug, “and because I wanted you to know.”

The simplicity of his words takes you by surprise. There’s no pressure in his gaze, no expectation. Your heart aches in a way you’ve never felt before.

“And if I want to say it back?” you whisper, eyes looking between his.

Jungkook does the same, looking for any trace of uncertainty in yours before asking quietly, "Do you mean it?"

“More than I think I even understand,” the words tumble out before you can second-guess them.

"Then say it."

“I’m so in love with you, Gukkie,” you whisper instantly, as if it were a command, “I thought I knew what love was, but… you’re love. Everything about you, everything you do is love.” Jungkook swallows hard, his thumbs still tracing softly over your knuckles. “We’re still so young, and there’s so much more to do… But I want to do it all with you.”

“Fucking hell, bug,” he mutters under his breath before his lips crash back into yours.

This kiss is deep, urgent, like he’s trying to tell you something through it.

And, god, Jungkook had always been a good storyteller.

Your hands slip free from his, finding the sides of his neck, grasping for balance as his hands slide to the small of your back, steadying you when you almost stumble.

Your fingers curl into the warm, strong muscles of his shoulders, and you return his kiss with the same intensity, the taste of him filling all of your senses. His lips feel warmer, smokier, like everything about him is more intense now. And in that moment, everything else just fades away.

When you part your lips, an ache for more already tugging at you, his tongue slips in like it’s been waiting the whole time. A soft, satisfied hum escapes you, and he mirrors it, his sound a little throatier as his tongue intertwines with yours.

Jungkook’s hands slide over you—your sides, your hips, your back—as if he’s committing the feel of you to memory, like he’s afraid this is the only time he’ll ever have the chance. The soft, wet sounds of your tongues moving together fill your ears, and you know that if you have any say in it, this will be far from the last time.

A low groan bubbles in Jungkook’s throat when you press yourself closer to him and his fingers instinctively tighten around your sides.

Then he hears it.

Jungkook pulls back quickly but carefully, his gaze lingering on yours as his hands smooth over your hair, fixing where his fingers had tousled it. His thumb brushes over your shoulder, adjusting the strap of your top that had slipped down again, while his other hand runs along the edge of your lips to fix your smudged lip gloss He licks his own lips to remove any residue and you pout, about to ask if he’s okay when the door swings open.

“Hellooo? What's taking so long? The Uber’s here and the guys are already at Joonie's.” Jia bellows, raising her brows as she glances between the two of you. “Come on, you can pregame in the car.”

Jungkook looks at you, waiting. You nod at her, your fingers brushing against his as you step back, clearing your throat and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Okay, Ji, sorry. We’re coming.”

She just nods, leaving the door open as she turns back to Yoongi, who’s waiting with her jacket. He hands it over wordlessly before leading her outside.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, quiet and searching. “You sure you still want to go?”

You take a breath, nodding. “Yeah, if Jia still wants me to come, it’s the least I can do. Do you still want to go?”

His lips press together for a second, but he nods, his hand sliding down to interlock with yours as you both walk out of the bedroom. He grabs his car keys from the counter on the way, but as you approach the door, a frown creases your forehead.

“You’re not driving us, right, Gukkie?” you ask, eyeing the keys in his hand.

He glances down at you, a faintly amused smile touching his lips. “Yeah, I am, bug. Why? Did you want to take the Uber with them?”

You shake your head, but the frown doesn’t leave. “No, but... you’re not gonna drink tonight?”

Jungkook shrugs lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he lets it go so you can grab your mini purse from the counter and slip it over your shoulder. He reclaims your hand when you’re done, guiding you out of the apartment. “Not tonight, bug.”

The sadness in your eyes makes him pause, and you glance up at him. “Why? Is everything okay? I don’t like drinking when you don't drink.” Your voice softens, lips forming a small pout as he presses the down arrow for the elevator.

He smiles at the sight, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I just wanted to drive you home, that’s all, bug.” His smile turns slightly amused. “But I’ll drink if you want to. You know I’m always down to drink with you.”

Your face brightens, leaning into his side to give him a soft thank you. As the elevator dings open, your phone vibrates in your clutch. You pull it out and giggle at the screen, tilting it toward Jungkook. He rolls his eyes, his lips twitching as he ushers you inside the elevator when it reaches your floor.

[9:57pm] From: Ji HELLOOO???? oh my god get down here. this fucking freak is trying to charge us twice for making him wait like two minutes

The crisp night air envelopes you as soon as you and Jungkook step outside the apartment complex, refreshing your skin and helping to calm your racing mind.

When you had both arrived at Yoongi and Jia's earlier in the night, you received a very quizzical look from your best friend as you climbed out of his Jeep.

‹ ‹ ‹

You extended your hand, waiting for him to come around to your side of the car before intertwining your fingers. Instead of locking the car, he paused, glancing back through the windows as if searching for something.

“Gukkie? You okay?” you asked, tilting your head at his hesitation. “I have your phone in my purse, remember?”

“Bug, where’s your jacket?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he looked over your outfit. He gave the Jeep’s seats another quick scan, hoping you’d just forgotten to grab it.

You shook your head, giving his hand a little tug to urge him forward. “I didn’t bring one. Couldn't find one that worked with my outfit. It’s okay, Gukkie, I'm not cold.”

But he didn’t budge. “Bug…” he said with a sigh, eyes scanning the backseat to see if he had left one of his jackets in there that you could wear. Nothing.

“Gukkie,” you laughed at the way his frown deepened, tugging his hand again. “You don’t have a jacket either, hm. Besides, there’s a small chance we’re even going out tonight anyway...”

Your voice softened, and Jungkook paused, sighing as the urge to drive home and grab you a jacket waned a bit. He pressed the lock button on his key fob with reluctance and let you pull him along up the path to the building.

His free hand slid up your arm as you walked, checking that your skin was still warm. It was, luckily for you, or he would've been plopping you back in the passenger seat to go back and get you a coat no matter how much you complained.

Jungkook knew Jia’s firm stance against jackets and outerwear—always “ruining the aesthetic" or something of the sort. He didn’t really pay much attention to what she said unless it involved you, if he was being honest.

And the thought of you borrowing one of Yoongi’s didn’t even get a chance to settle in his mind before he forced it far, far away.

› › ›

The scene with Jungkook in Jia’s room replays over and over in your head, but there’s a new lightness to it now—a weight lifted, even though you know the lines between you have definitely blurred. There’s more to think about, maybe more to figure out, but as you glance up at Jungkook’s peaceful expression, you find that you don’t mind it right now.

Reaching the end of the path, Yoongi hops out of the car and pulls the seat forward to let you into the back. “Hi, sorry for the wait,” you apologize softly to the driver, offering a polite smile as Jungkook takes your purse. His hand settles warmly on your back, guiding you in as you climb into the backseat.

The driver just mutters something under his breath and waits as Jungkook slides in next to you. Yoongi settles back beside Jia, who’s typing something on her phone, closing the door as the driver pulls out onto the road.

In the quiet hum of the car, you lean back, stealing a quick glance at Jungkook. He catches it, his lips quirking up as he shifts just a little closer, one hand slipping over yours where it rests on your lap. You turn your hand over and intertwine it with his, using your free hand to play with his fingers, tracing over the lines of his pretty tattoos. You rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed.

You can’t wait to drink.

It’s about twenty-five minutes later when you arrive at Joonie’s nightclub.

Jia had managed to convince the Uber driver to let you guys drink a little with the promise of a 50% tip, and as soon as he agreed, she swiftly pulled the bottle of tequila up from beneath her seat. She took a sip and handed it to Yoongi, who did the same before passing it to the back. Jungkook let you take a mouthful before he did, and you each took one more, his shots a little bigger than yours.

As you step inside, the music is loud, vibrating the ground as colored lights flicker across the floor. You spot the rest of your friends by a table in the corner, already clinking shot glasses together and throwing them back. When they see the four of you, their faces light up, and soon they’re stumbling over for hugs and half-drunk hellos.

Jimin is the first to reach you, a bright grin spreading across his face as he wraps you in a tight hug, swaying you from side to side. “Hi, angel! Gah, y'always look so pretty without an apron on! Good to see you—ah, hey, Kook! Get over here, you big thing,” he beams, pulling away from you to bring Jungkook down into an equally enthusiastic hug.

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Jungkook responds, returning the hug and then straightening to stand by your side again.

Jimin stands there, his eyes raking over both of you for a moment before he lets out a sigh and gives something similar to a nod of approval.

You shake your head, laughing as you adjust your purse. “How much have you had to drink already, Jiminie?”

“Not nearly enough,” he quips instantly, glancing back at the group where the others are ushering Jia and Yoongi over to their table. “And judging by the fact you’re not red as a tomato yet… neither have you. Come on,” he grins, grabbing both your arms and pulling you and Jungkook toward the rest of the group.

When you guys reach the circle, you exchange hugs and little hiii, I missed you's until you reach the last person at the table.

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung greets, pulling you into a warm hug.

Blinking in surprise as you pull back, you smile. "Hey, Tae? I didn’t know you were coming tonight. How are you?”

Taehyung nods, his hand resting casually on his beer. “Yeah, been okay. You?”

“Good, thanks Tae,” you reply with a soft smile, stepping back beside Jungkook.

“Oh, hey, Jungkook-ah, how are you, man?” Taehyung continues, extending a hand.

Jungkook takes it, and they do a little bro shake before he settles next to you again. “Really good, man, thanks,” he nods, glancing over the table before turning to you. “I’m gonna go get our drinks. Did y'want a long Island?”

Your eyes light up, and you nod, starting to walk with him to the bar when Valerie calls out, “Y/N! Babe, come take a photo! The lighting is soo cute over here.”

You turn back around, “One sec, Val, I’m just going to grab—”

“It’s okay, bug. I won’t be long,” Jungkook says quietly, running his hand down your arm as you glance over at him.

“Oh, okay.” You nod, looking up at him.

He raises his brows with an amused look when you don't move for a while. “Go on,” he nudges his head toward your friends, watching as you nod again with a cute smile and head over to Jia, Valerie, and Jimin. His gaze lingers as Yoongi takes the phone from Jia, and you all get ready to pose for the photos.

Sliding in next to Jia feels like second nature as your arm wraps around her waist, but as realization dawns, you quickly move to pull back, unsure if that's okay anymore.

Jia just rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and placing it firmly back around her waist before leaning into you. The two of you settle in for the shot, and you smile, resting your head on her shoulder as the flash goes off, Yoongi snapping a bunch of photos of the four of you.

Once Jia finally deems the hundred pictures her boyfriend has taken as enough, your little group breaks away, with Jimin and Valerie immediately rushing over to review the results.

You start to follow them but pause when you catch sight of Taehyung at the end of the table, sitting alone and staring at his beer. You frown, looking around for Hoseok and Jin, but they seem to have wandered off, leaving him by himself.

You slide into the seat beside him. “Hey,” you greet, and Taehyung looks up, returning a small smile. "You okay?"

“Hey,” he chuckles lightly. “Yeah, why, do I look all depressed and lonely right now?”

With a grin, you pick up the tiny umbrella from an empty glass nearby, twirling it in your fingers. “No. Just a little alone,” you hum. “Where did Jin and Hobi go?”

“Out for a smoke,” Taehyung answers, his eyes lingering on you for a second before glancing back at his drink. Just as you’re about to ask if he wants another beer since his looks low, Jungkook arrives back at the table.

He sets your drink in front of you, still holding his own glass, and pulls up a chair beside you. “Thanks, Gukkie,” you smile, pulling the cup toward you to take a sip.

Jungkook gives you a little nod, resting a hand on your leg. His gaze shifts, noticing how Taehyung’s eyes follow the movement of your mouth as you wrap your lips around the straw. Jungkook’s tongue flicks over his lips before he takes a silent mouthful of his drink, watching as the two of you chat.

It's not long before Jimin brings over a large tray to the table, all your friends cheering in excitement as he sets it down with a grin.

"Shots!"

“Shit, bug, wait, watch your step, I just—”

Jungkook’s warning doesn’t reach your inebriated brain in time, and you stumble over the step he nearly tripped on himself, letting out a little curse. Before you can fall forward, his arms are already around you, pulling you back upright.

“Gukkie,” you whine, “why did you push me?” you grumble, your cheeks rosy from the endless shots Jimin kept feeding you and the lingering heat of the dance floor you two had been on all night.

Not that you’ll remember most of this tomorrow, considering you went over your limit about two Long Island iced teas ago, but tonight was one of the best nights you’ve had in a very long time.

Jia mostly clung to Valerie for the night, but that didn’t matter—you and Jungkook had more than enough fun on your own. Jimin even took Taehyung under his wing, and the four of you ended up spinning around on the dance floor after you convinced Jungkook to join in too. He’s so good at it, you’ve never understood why he doesn’t dance more often, but he indulged you tonight. And it was so fucking amazing.

“I didn’t push you, bug,” he grumbles back, holding you steady as he blinks, trying to get his own hazy vision under control.

If you went past your limit, Jungkook went double down. He can handle his alcohol—much better than you, at least—but you guys were having so much fun, and he loves drinking with you, so he went all out. When you took a shot, he took two. When you stood in front of him, lifting a cup to his lips with a sweet, urging little smile, who the fuck was he to say no?

“Gukkie, where’s your car?” you ask, squinting up the street, arm looping through his as you both stagger down the sidewalk. The chilly night air nips at your bare legs, but the warmth of the alcohol keeps it at bay as you rest your head lazily on his bicep.

“Uhh,” Jungkook mutters, scanning the line of parked cars as he tries to spot his Jeep. “I dunno, baby. Let’s just walk home.”

You nod in agreement, too tipsy to consider that the walk back to either of your apartments would take at least an hour—probably more, but you don’t care. Right now, it feels like you could walk for miles, just like this.

“Okay, but—” you trail off, eyes drifting as he stops running his hand over the one of yours clinging to his bicep. He turns to you with a little frown. “But what? D'you want to take your heels off?”

You blink up at him, the blur of alcohol softening everything but his face, his features as clear and pretty as ever. “You called me baby,” you say, a wide, drunk grin lighting up your face as you gaze up at him, utterly enchanted.

Jungkook’s brows knit together in confusion. He glances forward to ensure you both don’t veer into anything, then looks back down at you. “What, bug?”

“You called me baby,” you repeat, leaning your head against his arm with a happy squeeze. “Gosh, Gukkie, I hope I remember this when I wake up.”

Jungkook blinks a little at that, turning his head to face the path in front of him as you both keep walking. Did he call you baby? It must’ve just slipped out. He’s never called anyone that—not even while drunk, as far as he knows. The thought lingers for a moment, but when Jungkook feels you shiver slightly and yawn against his arm, that’s all it takes for him to have his first sober thought since his umpteenth vodka shot.

“Bug,” he says, pulling you to a gentle stop, his gaze drifting over your goosebump-covered legs and sleepy eyes. You blink up at him, a soft, confused smile lifting your lips as you glance around, wondering why you’ve stopped. “I need to get us an Uber,” Jungkook murmurs, rubbing his hands over your cold arms to warm you. “Come sit with me. Gonna order it.”

He looks around for a seat, but there isn’t one in sight, so he guides you to the curb and sits down, holding his arms open as you step in front of him and plop between his legs. Making sure you're settled, he pulls out his phone, blinking hard to try and get the numbers on the screen to stay still enough to punch in his passcode.

You lean back into his hold, his free arm wrapping around your stomach as your eyes flutter shut, your fingers tracing softly over the inked patterns on his arm. “So warm,” you mumble, lost in the feel of his skin against yours.

Jungkook tilts his head a little as you lean further into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his neck. He swallows, his pulse quickening as he tries to focus on ordering the Uber to your place.

“How are you so warm everywhere?” you sigh dreamily, letting your nose drift up the length of his neck, fingers still tracing along his arm. Jungkook’s breath catches, but he manages to confirm the ride and lock his phone, his other arm wrapping around you, quietly pulling you snug against his chest.

"Can I kiss your neck, Gukkie?"

Jungkook’s eyes shut at your words, every fiber in him reacting to you as he swallows hard. “Just a little, bug. Our uber isn’t far.”

The slight tilt of his head is all the encouragement you need, and you press a gentle, lingering kiss to his nape, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows again. Drawn in by the pretty sight, your mouth latches onto his neck, tasting the warmth of his skin.

“Bug,” he croaks, his voice shaky as your lips press more purposefully, your soft touch just a bit more intentional. “Bug, c’mon, baby, not too much. You’re drunk, I—” His breathing deepens as your tongue traces a warm, wet line over his skin, his hands tightening on your sides as he exhales shakily.

Your lips find a soft spot at the base of his neck, and he lets out another unsteady breath, his body responding without his consent. Humming happily, you let yourself sink into the feeling a little longer before pulling back and admiring your handiwork. It’s not enough to leave a mark, just a faint warmth that’ll fade, but it’s still so pretty. You press one last gentle kiss to the spot before turning back around, leaning contentedly back against his chest.

“Thanks, Gukkie. I like the way your skin tastes,” you smile with your eyes closed, settling your hands over his arms around you, the honesty in your words amplified by the haze of the alcohol.

“God, bug,” Jungkook mumbles once he catches his breath, his fingers running lightly up and down your waist as he adjusts the hem of your top, covering you when it rides up a little. “So cute.”

He watches as a soft, pretty smile curves your lips, eyes still closed as you practically purr into him at his comment.

So. Fucking. Cute.

Jungkook rests his head in the crook of your neck, which is bared just for him. Your head lolls back as you sleepily begin to curl into his embrace. “So pretty,” he breathes into your skin, pressing a light little kiss as he inhales as much of your scent as possible.

He’s kissed you plenty of times—on your forehead, your cheeks, even twice on your fucking lips earlier tonight. But he’s never kissed your neck before.

And it’s addicting.

The aroma of your vanilla-creme body wash mixed with the Miss Dior perfume he buys you for your birthdays—fuck. He could lick it off every inch of your body if you’d let him.

But not tonight.

He knows you get extra touchy with him when you’re drunk, and, yeah, he does with you too. That’s just how you two have always been. But it’s usually just longer cuddles, sitting closer than normal, not leaving each other's side for more than a few minutes.

You’ve never done that to him before.

Maybe it’s because, however intoxicated you may be, your brain recognizes the shift between the two of you from earlier at Yoongi and Jia’s.

God, he fucking hopes so.

Jungkook prays that you’ll remember kissing him tomorrow, even if you’re dazed from the alcohol. Because he is too. But, somehow, he'll make sure he remembers every single second.

i hit the fucking block limit >:( sooo nasty of tumblr 😔 the rest of the fic is available in this reblog 🩷

[weakformingyu]

We can't be friends | H.H.

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Genre: ANGST, smut

Part 2: Wait for your love

Summary: you have been in love with your best friend for a long time. On a night where you were supposed to comfort him after a break up, things heat up and he finally looks at you the way you wanted.

Words count: 2,957

THIS WORK IS FOR +18 AUDIENCES ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: biting, protected piv, hickeys, blowjob, hair pulling, cursing(I think that's all)

A/N: I wanted to write something to "we can't be friends" by ariana grande, I was thinking so hard about what to write and this idea came to me so suddenly and I knew I had to write it.

Hwang Hyunjin was everything you ever dreamt about. You didn’t realize that right when you met him in your first year of college, to you he was just a friend until he wasn’t anymore. You started noticing every little thing about him, how his eyes turn into crescents when he smiles, the face he makes when he eats something good, what are his favorite drinks and snacks. Suddenly everything about Hyunjin sounded so interesting that you didn’t even realize you were in love. You didn’t realize how happy you got every time he sent you a message, how touched you felt when he went to pick you up at work because it was raining and you forgot your umbrella, how calm you felt when you were with him, watching a movie and chilling.

The moment you realized you were in love, you knew you couldn’t be best friends anymore but you liked to pretend. Hyunjin never even looked at you twice so your mind never went to dark places, wondering what it would be like to tell him how you feel but even though that was the case, he didn't make it easy for you to stop liking him.

He would bring you snacks and medicine when you were on your period, when you felt down about anything he would be there to cheer you up and you could tell him just about anything, you knew he wouldn’t judge you — well, almost anything. Could he ever understand you about this, though? How could you fall in love with your best friend?

When he got his first girlfriend it was a shock to you, the pain in your chest felt like it would burn you whole, but you kept fighting with your heart, telling yourself that it wouldn’t do you any good for him to know about your feelings. His relationship didn’t last long but it also wasn’t the last you heard about a relationship of his and you thought you were okay with it. That is, until he met his last girlfriend. Hyunjin was head over heels for her and that killed you time and time again. Your heart broke more and more every time he talked about her, every time you slept over and heard him calling her late at night, telling her how much he loved her. A month went by, then three months, then a year.

Of course you didn’t want them to break up because you knew he would suffer and that was the last thing you wanted, even if in that case you would be the one hurting. You tried to date other people, but you always felt it was wrong because deep inside you didn’t want to get over him, not when you were still hopeful that one day he would look at you.

It was late at night when Hyunjin called you, it was clear in his voice that something was not right.

“Can you come over?” He asks, voice hoarse and tired.

“Give me ten minutes”, you tell him, jumping out of bed. You were already in your pjs, ready to sleep and no one other than Hyunjin could make you go out this time of the night.

You don't even change your shirt, putting on sweatpants and brushing your hair quickly before grabbing your keys and your coat, walking to the door. The chill air of the night blows your hair, messing everything up and making your face grow cold. Winter has been killing you for a while now, you have been avoiding coming to the cold outside since you started to work from home.

You get into your car, turning on the heater, putting on some light music so you can stay calm and not freak out about what happened to your best friend.

You don’t even knock when you get to his apartment, pressing the password to the door lock and entering the house. A strong smell of liquor comes straight to your nose, stopping you in your tracks. There are so many soju bottles on the floor that you can’t even count and you hear the sound of the shower, so you can only conclude that Hyunjin is taking a bath.

Sighing and taking your coat, you throw it on the table, going to the kitchen to find a plastic bag and starting to collect the trash around the living room. What the hell happened? Hyunjin is usually pretty neat, it’s rare to see his house this messy.

You hear the sound coming from the bathroom disappear while you wash the dishes, drying your hands on a towel and leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for Hyunjin to show up.

He looks awful, clean but horrible. He has eye bags under his eyes and seems tired like he hasn't slept in days.

“What happened?” You ask him, walking to him to take a closer look.

Hyunjin pouts, looking at you. You swear he’s almost crying.

“Jisoo broke up with me”, he says, running his hand through his hair.

“She did what?” You scowl, eyes widening and he sighs. “What happened? This came out of nowhere”

“I don’t know, she’s been acting weird lately and she didn’t want me to pick her up at work anymore so I asked about it and she felt offended that I was being suspicious of her, but I was not”, he whines, “I was just asking if there was something wrong”

“When did it happen? Are you drunk right now?” You recall the amount of empty bottles of alcohol you found when you arrived.

“She ended it yesterday, I thought she was gonna come around”, he cries out, “but she even blocked me on social media”

Hyunjin turns around, walking to the sofa and sitting, supporting his elbows on his thighs while he covers his face.

“I'm not drunk, I ran out of booze a few hours ago and just couldn't get myself to go buy more”, he sighs, “I have no energy”

You feel that pain in your chest, you never wanted to see him suffering like this.

“Look, you have today to cry and tomorrow you're gonna forget about her, okay?”, you groan, the last thing you want is to comfort the guy you like because someone else broke his heart. “You have me, you’re gonna be fine” You walk to him, sitting by his side and patting his back. Hyunjin sighs, nodding begrudgingly.

“Thank you for coming”, he says, leaning down and putting his head on your shoulder. “I know it's late”

“Don’t worry about it”, you assure him, “I'm always here for you”

Hyunjin nods, looking up at you before you glance down at him, his dark eyes watching you like he can see right through you, all your emotions. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes strange, you both fall into silence and you feel something deep inside you, something you don't think you have ever felt before as he glances to your mouth and then your lips are on his.

For a few seconds you can't fully understand what's happening, are you two really kissing? And is he reciprocating? Hyunjin’s lips are just like you thought it would be, soft and sweet. Are you a horrible person for doing this when he just broke up with his girlfriend? His hands move to cup your face, deepening the kiss but yours go straight to his chest, pushing him away.

“We shouldn't do this”, you shake your head, trying to get back to your senses. “This isn't right”

Hyunjin scowls.

“It's fine, I want it”, he tries kissing you again but you stop him again.

“You were drinking earlier, you are not thinking straight”, you try keeping your cool.

“I'm sober now”, he insists, “please, y/n”, he pleads, making your heart melt.

It's not like you don't want to have him, you really do.

“You won't regret it later?” You ask, biting on your bottom lip and when he shakes his head, you turn off the side of your brain that makes good decisions, kissing him again.

You grab his face, deepening the kiss, delighting yourself on his plump lips. His long hair falls around your fingers, tickling your skin and the brush of his tongue on yours makes you sigh. Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it lightly while his hands slide down to your hips, pressing his fingers with such force you think it might cause a bruise.

He kisses you again, hungrily, leaning over and making you fall back on the sofa as he hovers over your body. You feel tiny beneath him, like he holds all the power in the world and you’re just there ready to make all his wishes come true.

As he trails kisses down your neck, you sigh and slide your hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him and throwing it somewhere in the room. You kiss him again, eagerly, not capable of staying away for too long as his hands slide down your shirt grabbing at your breasts, making you let out a moan. Your hands go down his abs, sliding inside his pants, pressing your fingers around his hard cock. You start massaging it up and down and Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it slightly just enough for you to feel a slight pain.

He slips his hand down your bra, kneading at your breasts and pinching on your nipples.

“Fuck”, you murmur, not able to hold up anymore as you pull your on shirt off to give him the view of your chest that's bare in a few seconds since you work fast to undo your bra.

He watches you for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty. You feel your cheeks grow hot, trying to cover yourself but he blocks your movements, holding your arms above your head. Hyunjin kisses your neck, leaving a trail of bites that are going to cause you to use turtlenecks for a while but you are not complaining, he trails down your collarbone till your breasts so he can suck on your nipples, rubbing his hard cock against your tight while he enjoys his time at your chest.

You can't hold yourself back anymore, so you put your hands on his chest, pushing him away enough for him to sit down. You throw one leg over him, sitting on his lap, brushing your core against his hard cock, moaning to the delicious pressure. You kiss him again, rubbing yourself against him a few times, his hands go straight to your hip forcing you down.

You pull away when you can't breathe anymore, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, giving him a bite right on top of his collarbone, not stopping until he hisses.

“You're going to leave a mark”, he groans, opening his eyes that were shut in pleasure, just to look at you, seeing the smirk you have on your lips.

“That's the point”, you say, finally detaching your lips from his skin, enjoying the view of it turning purple.

You get down from his lap, getting on your knees in between his legs, pulling his pants and underwear down to find his painfully hard cock, glistening with precum. You grab the base of his cock, pumping it a few times before you get close enough to lick the head, circling it with your tongue, listening to him moan while he grabs the sofa, knuckles turning with the strength he's using.

You hold one of his hands with yours bringing it to your head and letting it rest on your hair, as you look at him sharply, sucking up and down on his cock even more eagerly.

“Fuck”, he grabs a handful of your hair, pressing your head further down his cock, the head reaching the back of your throat, making tears escape your eyes. “You look so pretty gagging around me”, he murmurs, throwing his head back, groaning to the intense feeling of the orgasm approaching.

You feel his grip tighten on your hair and he cums a few seconds later, letting go of your hair and breathing heavily, trying to recompose himself. You stare at him from the floor, not sure if he's going to want to keep going, but he soon looks back at you stretching himself to the side of the sofa till he reaches the drawer in the rack, pulling a condom out of there.

“Do you want to-”, he begins to say.

“Yes”, you nod frantically not even letting him finish.

“Good”, he smiles, tearing the package and putting on the condom, his cock hardening again. “It's pretty difficult not to get hard again seeing you fucked out like that for me”, he teases. Your hair is disheveled, your lips are swollen and there are tears marks down your cheeks.

You smile sheepishly watching as Hyunjin offers you his hand, pulling you down to sit back on his lap. You grab his cock, teasing your entrance lightly, closing your eyes to the feeling. When you sink down you swear you can see stars, his cock is just perfect, the stretch feels so good you can't even begin to describe it. He's reaching places you didn't even know you wanted to be reached, the way he grabs your hips, pushing you down on him while he makes you grind makes the sensation a thousand times better. You can already barely breath when he kisses you again, bringing a hand to your hair and pulling it while he bites on your lips, you can feel him thrusting into you, faltering movements showing that he's almost reaching his second orgasm. He trails kisses down your neck, kissing the hill between your breasts and licking on your right nipple while he curses under his breath.

“I'm gonna cum”, he announces, detaching his mouth from your chest, glancing at you just to see you nod, murmuring ‘me too, I'm almost there’ over and over until a loud moan escapes your lips. Your legs tremble and you hug Hyunjin looking for some kind of support, he wraps his arms around you, fucking into you while he cums too.

You don't have any strength left to get up when you come down from your high, resting your head on his shoulder. Hyunjin gently picks you up, holding your legs around his hips while he carries you to his room, laying you down on his bed. He murmurs something but you're too groggy to understand him, falling into a deep slumber as soon as you feel his lips meeting your forehead.

It's already afternoon when you wake up, there's no one by your side though and you feel the pain of regret beginning to find its way to your chest. You could ignore it, you really could, if it wasn't for Hyunjin’s voice coming from outside the room. You dress up fast, walking to the door to hear what he's talking about and then you realize he's not alone.

“Do you have any idea of how much you hurt me?” You hear his voice.

“I'm sorry”, you hear Jisoo’s voice, “I know I went overboard this time but I wasn't thinking clearly”

You feel your stomach sinking in, your heart starts beating on your ears but you make a huge effort to keep listening to them.

“What do you want me to do about it now?” He asks, sighing.

“Let's get back together”, she suggests, “we can pretend we never even broke up in the first place”

You want to believe with all you have in you that he's gonna deny her, that he's going to think about you and tell her he's not interested anymore.

“Fine”, he says, “but I'll need some time to think”

You wish you could say you're surprised with his answer but you're not, it's not even sad, it's just pathetic. You really thought that he would really look at you this time, didn't you? That he would fall in love with you after one night together? That's embarrassing to say the least.

You scoff to yourself, walking around the room and collecting your things, you want to get the hell out of there and disappear from this world.

You hear the front door being closed and you know Hyunjin is gonna show up at any time now.

You're already ready to go when he opens the door, stopping on his tracks to look at you.

“I didn't know you were awake”, he says, sheepishly.

“I am”, you say walking past him in the direction of the front door.

“Y/N, about yesterday-”, he starts saying but is interrupted by you spinning around to look at him, trying to contain the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes.

“You're a fucking asshole”, you tell him, making him scowl.

“I- look, you don't understand”, he tries but you laugh, scoffing at him.

“What don't I understand? That you fucked me one night and went back to your girlfriend the next morning?”

“I wasn't on my right mind yesterday”

“Fuck you”, you feel your face hot with anger, “you said you wouldn't regret it”, you cry out as you run your hands through your hair, “I guess that's on me for really believing you”

“Let's not let this ruin our friendship okay? We can take some time apart to clear our heads but we are still best friends, y/n”

“We can't be friends”, you inform him, “I have known that for a long time now but I liked to pretend”, you sigh, waiting for him to say something, anything that could make you stay, but Hyunjin just stares at you in shock and watches as you leave him.

[sturnioloszn]

OLD TOGETHER - C.S

summary; you and chris are reminiscing on the day you adopted trevor and how everyone has grown old together.

warnings; noneee, it's a fluff!

a/n; it was bound to happen that i'd write a oneshot with trev. also, i'm gonna try to write a few more fluffs for NNN (lmaoo, i'll still do a few smuts, i wont starve u sluts dw) but yeahhh, enjoy!

The triplets were finally back in Boston, and they asked if I wanted to hang out and have a movie night with them. Of course, I accepted. The triplets and I have been friends since elementary, and we used to see each other every single day. But ever since they moved to La, we've seen each other a lot less. So, whenever the opportunity presents itself, we hang out as much as possible.

Nick and Matt were currently out grabbing the pizzas and snacks for the movie night, whereas Chris and I decided to stay back. We were sprawled out on the couch, mindlessly talking to each other. I missed this. I miss being able to come over whenever and just hang out. I missed their company. I missed them.

After a few minutes, the conversation died down, and we were enjoying eachothers comfortable silence until a soft snoring was heard from the left of me. Chris and I both look up from our phones and look to see who was snoring even though we already knew who it was.

Trevor was curled up under a grey blanket on his dog bed, which was kept on the couch. God, this dog is sooo spoilt. We watch as he sleeps, his gentle snores being the only noise in the room. Chris and I exchanged a small glance and laughed under our breath, trying not to wake up Trev.

"Do you remember when we first got him?" I ask, looking back to Chris. He had his phone in his hand, recording Trevor as he slept.

"Of course I do. How could I forget?" He smiles, ending the recording.

-

"Come on, Nickkk, it'll be fun," Chris whines. We had just finished the school day, and Chris and I were begging to go to the animal shelter, but Nick and Matt were not convinced.

"No, mom said to come home straight away," Nick states. He looks over to Matt before speaking again, "Isn't it mom said that?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at Matt.

"Um... yeah. Chris, let's just go home," He pleads, not wanting his brothers to fight. Chris stomps one of his feet and shakes his head, his blond hair falling into his eyes slightly.

"Y/n wants to go too, and mom won't care if we come home like ten minutes later," He says, looking over to me. Now, all three of them are glarring at me, waiting for me to pick a side.

"How about me and Chris, go to the shelter for a couple of minutes, and you guys go home?" I say, trying to stop the fighting and make everyone happy.

"Fine, when mom takes your playstation away, I'm going to laugh at you," Nick says, sticking his tongue out to Chris and grabbing Matt's hand before walking away. Now it's just me and Chris standing outside the animal shelter.

"Are you sure we won't get in trouble?" I ask, looking into his innocent, blue eyes. He looks back at me before shaking his head and grabbing hold of my hand. We walk to the door of the animal shelter and struggle slightly to push it open, but when we do, a small bell rings.

As the bell stops, a girl with long brown hair comes out to the front. She looks at us before giving a warm smile, "Hi kids, what can I do for you guys?".

We both smiled back before I opened my mouth to answer her, "we were wondering if we could look at some doggies?" I question, with a hopeful gleam in my eyes.

"Of course," She chuckles, leading us to the back where all the animals are kept. There's a few dogs, cats, and even a bunny. But before she could explain anything the bell to the front of the shop rang again. "Sorry guys, give me a sec," She says hurrying to the front.

We take the opportunity to start looking at all the animals. There was a small white dog but it looked a bit crusty and next to it was a really big black and white dog.

"Ooo, this one is a husky," Chris says, reaching his hand into the cage to stroke it. He pets the dog's head and it instantly gets super excited and starts to wag it's tail. I wonder if these animals ever get lonely? Thinking about this makes me sad and I feel tears in my eyes. "Y/n, come here, come pet it," he says, turning around.

That is when he sees that I'm are crying and instantly stops petting the dog. "Why are you crying? What's wrong?" He asks, putting his arm around my shoulders. I cover my face with my small hands, trying to hide the tears but they keep flowing.

"It's sad, what if they get lonely and nobody pays them any attention?" I sniffle and try to wipe my tears away. He looks at me for a moment as if deep in thought.

"I'm sure they're not?" he tries to reassure but it doesn't really help. I keep sniffling trying to fight any more tears from falling when the girl comes back in with a puppy in her hands. She takes a look at me before asking the same question Chris had asked moments ago.

Chris explains to her that I'm sad because I think the dogs are probably lonely and want some love. "Awhh sweetheart, it's okay. I promise they get plenty of love. Here, how about you hold this fella," she says passing the puppy that was in her arms into mine.

The small dog was brown with a little, black button nose. I cradle the dog in my arms and pet it softly. Chris reaches over to also show him some affection.

"What's his name?" Chris asks the girl.

"He actually doesn't have one yet, he was just brought in, he's a puppy," she says, watching me hold the dog close to my chest. A smile down at the dog, it is so cute. I wish I could keep him but my mom would never allow it.

"Chris, d'you think your mom would let you keep him?" I ask, mentally crossing my fingers and toes that he'd say yes.

"Hm, maybe? Let me go ask!" He says, before running out the door. I didn't even have time to react before he was already out of eye-sight. He was probably running down the street, back to his house to ask if they could keep him.

I kept cradling the doggy and the girl reassured me that all the animals are very loved even if they don't have a 'forever home' yet.

Before I knew it Chris comes speeding back, dragging his mom by the hand; Nick and Matt trailing behind them.

Me and the girl both move back to the front to meet with everyone else. "Look mom! Isn't he the cutest?" Chris asks, pulling the dog into his arms to give his mom a closer look. She closely examines the dog before turning to the woman behind the desk.

"How big will he grow?" She asks. Nick and Matt move closer to us to take a closer look at the dog.

"I guess he's kinda cute," Nick admits, still salty about the argument from earlier.

"Nick you can't lie, he's really cute," Matt agrees, coming to also pet him. We were now all surrounded by the dog petting him and showing so much love.

The dog didn't mind all of the attention, he just yawned and settled into Chris' arms.

"Not big at all, he's a pug and beagle mix, so he won't grow too much bigger than he is now," the girl explains. I watch their mom pull out her purse from her bag and take out a card.

The woman behind the desk smiles and looks back over to us before speaking, "hey guys, he's all yours,". We look back and forth between us before all running to hug their mom. She laughs and hugs as all back.

"But you guys have to promise you'll stop arguing now, alright?" She says, shaking her head with a smile. Nick must have told her about the disagreement the four of us had earlier. We all agreed to her condition before we began throwing names around so that we could figure out what to name our newest friend. Amongst all our chatter, Chris speaks up so he can be heard.

"Y/n and I should be the ones to name him because it's technically our dog, we wanted him!" He says, making all of us stop speaking. Nick goes to open his mouth to disagree but their mom stops him.

"How about we all agree on a name, hm?" She says, leading us out of the shelter and on the walk back to the triplet's house we agreed on the name Trevor. When their mom heard the name she laughed and questioned it but Chris said he randomly thought of it which made us all laugh.

-

We share a smile, remembering our childhood and how crazy it was that we've had Trev for so many years now. We've all grown up together which was almost enough to bring tears to my eyes again.

Out of nowhere, Nick and Matt burst through the front door, "GUESS WHO BROUGHT BACK PIZZAAAA!" Nick exclaims, as if we didn't know.

Matt follows behind him, shaking his head. We spend the rest of the night, laughing, eating, and enjoying eachothers company. It makes me sad that we are getting older and that we're leaving our childhood behind but I can't wait to continue to grow old together and see what the future brings us.

a/n; thank you for readingggg, I hope you enjoyed it and lmk if u have any suggestions for future fics! love you all <33.

Taglist; @idrk2292 @mattsfavseason @aalicats87 @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover

[unluckilyimnot]

Okay, but bonten with like a SUPER soft gf. Like, we talk like cry on every sad movie ivies with an animal to be specific). Takes things other says to heart. Often like cry over small things and stops to pet EVERY single animal she sees.

Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel like doing this one 😭 I know it’s lowkey weird.

Bonten with a soft gf!

Characters: rindou, ran, kaku, mikey, sanzu, kokonoi

fluff / no tw / wc: 900+

Note : no way it's so cute don't ever worry !! I love it, thank you sm ! I dispatched it between all the characters. I hope it's fine.

m.list | rules

Rindou never minded more than that the fact that you cry a lot. He loves it a lot and it makes him chuckle and laugh more than anything else. He's always there to wipe your tears away when you cry when the dog dies in the movies, or when you tear up at any inconveniences. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you're sensible, the opposite of him, and he cares and loves you for that.

Yet he's the first one to draw a radical line the second you get hurt, in any way, by someone. It's silly and fun until some abuse it and use it against you or to hurt you. He will find who did this, who made you cry and will burn their house down.

Sanzu sighs a lot when you decide something was wrong when he, in fact, didn't care. Yet his heart always skips a beat when he hears you speaking louder than you usually do, mad at people treating him poorly. He listens to you for a while before he finally steps in and holds your hands when he's feeling cheesy, or your elbows when he's a bit tired or high.

"Babe, it's really nothing. Don't worry yourself like that, you'll get wrinkles." He honestly makes you laugh every time, or at least confort you that he doesn't care about anyone's opinion besides yours. And oh how much you love and care for him everyday, he can't even doubt it. He wished you'd stop hurting yourself over things like this, but recognize that your sweet nature is definitely what he loves the most about you.

Ran laughs at you when you get offended for nothing. It can be about something going your way to work to you spiking your coffee on the counter. It's his own comic relief of the day when you're stroming around, a deep frown on your face making you look like a small, angry animal but still defenseless. His laughter always makes it worse, without mentioning his venom filled remarques, to make fun of your overreacting nature. To the point you can cry and not speak to him for hours – but for sure mentioning it all to Rindou.

Ran hates it when you team up with him, because you wouldn't talk to him but Rindou would, on the other hand, mention you and everything you told him to Ran. He's always making the first step to you and apologizing with probably a hundred wroth bouquet and your favorite snacks – promising you he'll never do it again, when he will most certainly do it again.

Seeing you enjoying small things about life is the reason why Mikey kept you around at first, you reminded him of his younger self and his friends at that time. Every time you stop to pet a stranger's dog, a small smile shows on his lips, one you rarely get to see even if you're always the reason for it.

You listen to him so carefully the few times he does talk to you, it makes him feel alive again. You're doing most of the talking and you're always so sorry to take this kich when that's what he loves about you. He makes sure to tell you that he likes it from time to time, just to be sure you won't stop. Your heart is so soft and warm, welcoming him every time you see him again with new facts you learn and an unconditional love that overflows everywhere, and he gets the chance to be showered with it every time.

Kokonoi gets used to you stopping all the time the second you catch the glimpse of a stay animal. So he instinctively adds ten minutes to every trip you two have to do, even if it's only to walk to his car because there's a few stray cats in the parking lot and he's sure you're gonna stop or even wait for them to walk out from their hide spot.

But he just can't bring himself to get impatient when your eyes light up at the sight of the small cats. The way you jolt in joy when their cold nose finally touches your hand, and you look up to him with the softest smile he ever had the chance to witness. Yes, you're usually late, but he just had to snap a picture of you with the white kitten and everyone is accepting the fact that those ten minutes of your happiness are worth the delayed meetings.

Kakucho's always there to rub your back when you cry in front of a movie. He never sees why you cry particularly, but always listen thoughtfully to what you have to say about it. He brings you tissues, sometimes even wipes your nose for you and lets you dive into his arms when a character you like dies. He can't help but tell himself how sensible you are every time, but also how he loves that. You bring him back to his human nature and what it is to be emphatic about normal things, far from his rough life where his life is at risk every time he steps outside the door.

To that, he hopes he'll never be the reason for your tears, and that he'll always be there to wipe them away and shush you down.

Sorry its rather short, tell me if you want a particular hc with one or a whole os.

Let me know if you liked it !

[dkfile]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #49

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.3k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Taehyung's ability to persuade you to do things you normally don't feel like doing still amazes you. You've no idea how the man does it but he surely has his ways. In your defense, you didn't let yourself be persuaded quickly.

"I'm not going to a bar on Sunday, Taehyung."

That's what you told him when he suddenly came up with an idea to go out in the evening. He had decided not to go home after breakfast, not that you minded his company. Not at all. Jungkook was busy finishing your bed after breakfast while you and Taehyung watched movies the entire day. It was a calm day – until Taehyung's extrovertness and need to go out came up to the surface.

"Relax, you're not getting drunk."

So the next ten minutes were spent with his attempts of getting you to agree to his plan, involving Jungkook as soon as he came up from the office room – which is going to be your room as well from now.

"We are just going to hang out."

"Come on. Jimin bailed on me and I'm lonely."

Just a glimpse of what he said to make you finally agree.

In the end, Jungkook agreed as well and offered to be the driver.

"I can't believe he made us go out on Sunday." you comment with a mutter under your breath, glancing down at your already finished drink.

Going to a local bar is what you mean.

Jungkook glances at you, arm outstretched behind your seat as he grins. "You're acting as if it's the first time that has happened."

Well, he has a point. 

Taehyung scoffs, reminding you that he has heard you perfectly as he sits on the opposite side of you and Jungkook, adjusting the button-up Jungkook has borrowed him since he barged in wearing pajamas last night. He actually borrowed a whole outfit from Jungkook which seems kind of weird, because he looks like Jungkook. Minus the face and tattoos of course, but still. Their fashion style is kind of different, not totally but seeing Jungkook in that button-up before and now Taehyung wearing it is... interesting and odd.

Not that it doesn't suit him. Taehyung usually wears similar clothes when going out at night. It's the fact those clothes are Jungkook's but well, he looks good in them. The looks Taehyung gets from the women in this bar just proves that.

"Oh please, what were you two about to do on a Sunday anyway?" Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you lazily, "Fuck behind everyone's back?" he laughs, your entire face heating up as his name leaves your mouth in a hushed exclamation.

"Probably." Jungkook shrugs, not letting Taehyung get to him as you give him a look but he looks relaxed and not very bothered by your friend's jab.

The little twitch in the corner of his lips tells you last night has crossed his mind.

"Relax, I'm just joking," Taehyung rolls his eyes at you, "Is it really that bad to hang out with me?" Taehyung asks with a glare and edge to his voice, but looking at him you realize how the undertone of his question is plainly just sad and you immediately feel bad.

"No, Tae, that's not what I meant," you assure him, shaking your head as you prop your elbows on the table and lean closer to him. "It's just, it's Sunday and I have work tomorrow. All of us do actually. I don't want to go to sleep too late and then having to deal with Junho's annoying ass the whole next day. Plus, I can't get drunk."

It's not like you haven't done it before. It's not that big of a problem to be honest.

Everyone knows you want to get a good amount of sleep before having to wake up early in the morning. It's just how you prefer to do things and thanks to your friends, you get a good amount of clubbing and hanging out in public places a lot.

"Nobody is getting drunk. We are just having a few good drinks and that's it."

But you should've known to never trust him when it comes to drinking and having fun.

With more drinks on your and Taehyung's part, Jungkook gladly sticking to coke, the evening started to get more relaxed in terms of you relaxing and sharing a good laugh with your friends. Suddenly, getting more drinks didn't sound so bad and once Taehyung suddenly came up with another plan of visiting a nearby club, surprisingly you already stood up ready to go.

You're nowhere near dressed appropriately for a club. Just a pair of dark jeans, a nice top and heels – not your average good outfit but you don't care.

Not even when Jungkook reminds you of your work tomorrow, not very sold on the idea of going clubbing on Sunday night as you and Taehyung both wave him off. Sighing, he still joins you – not that he has a choice since he is both your driver.

It doesn't even make sense. You only go to the club to get more drinks which you could've happily got in the bar. Club is loud, full of people and stinky but in your drunken state, it seems like the most logical and greatest idea. You blame it on Taehyung.

You and Taehyung dance through a few songs though, something you wouldn't be able to do in a bar. Jungkook watches you two the entire night like a parent, and if you weren't so drunk you would feel bad for him having to stick to his non-alcoholic drinks while he babysits not only you but Taehyung as well.

He happily reminds you he's okay and doesn't want to get drunk, every time you drunkenly sit back down into the booth and pout at him.

"You're drunk," Jungkook comments, chuckling as his thumb brushes against the corner of your lips as you give him a lazy grin. "You should take it slow." he reminds you softly, snorting when you take a sip of your drink, ignoring his words.

You sheepishly grin at him, sitting back which happens to be on Jungkook's side as you cuddle up to him. Taehyung currently flirts with one of the women, which is also the reason you joined Jungkook because he shooed you away as soon as she approached you and him. Idiot.

However, he doesn't bail on you and joins you shortly after.

Jungkook reminds you two to stop drinking so much every few minutes but just like always, you both wave him off.

"Sober people are always annoying when others are drinking." Taehyung comments and you start giggling like it's the funniest thing he could've said right after Jungkook has scolded him for ordering another round of drinks.

"This sober annoying person is driving you home." Jungkook reminds him with a grumble, your giggling continuing.

To Jungkook's luck, you decide to end the night when you start getting tipsy, almost falling asleep on Jungkook's chest while Taehyung looks like he has had enough – equally getting tired and too drunk to barely stand on his feet.

How he manages to get you two in his car is beyond him, but he's glad when you're both seated in the back as he drives through the night to his apartment. Taehyung's car is in a parking lot in front of Jungkook's building, so there's no way he's driving him home. Also, he is drunk and doesn't want to waste time driving him home, having to actually get him to up his floor and apartment.

It's not like it's a bother to him for Taehyung to spend a night over. At least he is not left with blue balls this time.

"Well--this is new," Taehyung slurs drunkenly in the back, your head that's been leaned against the window lazily turns to him as you questionably look at him. "I haven't even kissed anyone tonight."

You snort, giggling. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's just weird." he giggles to himself as you join him.

"You know what's weird?" you ask, pointing at your outfit as Taehyung cocks his head at you. "This outfit."

You both cackle right after, causing Jungkook to roll his eyes at the two of you and what a hangover you two are about to have. The last time you were even similarly drunk to your current state was at the New Year's Eve trip – something that's hard to forget.

"Nah, you look good." Taehyung murmurs, his words coming out as snort as he starts drifting away but your voice shakes him out of it.

"You really think so?"

You sound so hopeful and light, causing Jungkook to stifle back a laugh as Taehyung encouragingly nods like the supporting friend he is.

"No, you're just saying that because you're my friend." you grumble sadly as Taehyung drunkenly tries to reach towards you but ends up almost slapping you in the face which causes you to click your tongue at him in annoyance.

"No, I'm not!" he argues childishly as you cross your arms over your chest, not even caring your top makes your breasts almost spill out of it with how low it is tugged by your arms.

"You are!"

"No, you idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot!"

Taehyung sighs, fighting back the need to just close his eyes and sleep. "You are hot."

"You mean it?" you pout again, staring hopefully at drunk Taehyung but you're not the one to talk, looking just as hammered.

"Yeah!" Taehyung exclaims enthusiastically, "I would totally go for you if you were a stranger."

"You would?"

Jungkook listens to the absurd conversation, silently counting down the minutes to his apartment building. Why the fuck you sound so happy? 

"Yeah!" he exclaims again, burping right after as you giggle. "I would totally kiss you tonight if you weren't my friend."

"Kiss me?"

Oh fuck, you're so drunk. You even sound interested knowing the thought of kissing one of your friends – excluding Jungkook of course – is like kissing your brother. But this doesn't even cross your mind.

"Mhm, you wanna kiss?" Taehyung proposes, drunkenly sending you a crooked grin as he leans towards you while you sit behind Jungkook's seat, grinning at him just as much.

Why not? What could go wrong?

"Yeah!"

You both start to lean closer to each other, pursing your lips like little kids do but before you can even get any closer, the car comes to an abrupt stop which almost makes you both fly through windshield if it weren't for the seatbelt Jungkook has so kindly put on both of you.

Before Taehyung can even open his mouth, taking him too long to realize what has just happened, Jungkook is out of his seat as the door on Taehyung's side is pushed open.

"Yah, what the fuck man?" Taehyung complains, slurring his words as Jungkook takes off his seatbelt and pulls him out of his seat.

Taehyung complains the whole time, your drunk mind having a hard time comprehending what is happening until Taehyung sits in a passenger seat, Jungkook clicking on his seatbelt with a frown before the door is shut.

You blink confusingly at the back, your stomach feeling funny from the harsh stop you just made as you're trying not to throw up.

"You're both so fucking wasted." Jungkook mutters under his breath, putting the car into drive fastly.

You both fall asleep for the rest of the ride, Taehyung waking up just as Jungkook parks in an underground garage where he only recently bought a parking spot. He already looks as if he can't remember a thing, blinking as he watches his surroundings with sleepy and bloodshot eyes – Jungkook chuckles once he notices Taehyung's dumbfounded expression.

Getting him out of the car is just as hard as he expected, Taehyung barely able to stand on his feet while Jungkook scolds him to at least try and stand for a solid minute while he tries to get you out of the car.

Taehyung leans against his car, palms messily outstretched on its windows as he leaves handprints all over it and Jungkook has to take a deep breath. Opening the door on your side, you're already sleeping with your head and neck in an uncomfortable position.

You're so out of it, he thinks as he tries to wake you up. Brushing a few strands of your hair off your face, he gently calls out your name while he shakes your shoulder but you murmur something under your breath, trying to swat his hand off.

Sighing, he grunts once he sneaks his arms around your frame and tries to take you into his arms. With your lack of response and difficult position it's not easy but eventually he successfully manages to pull you out, holding you bridal style as he shuts the car door with his hip.

"Why don't I get such a privilege?" Taehyung pouts, slurring once he notices you in Jungkook's arms while he's scared to let go of the car, guessing he won't be able to hold himself on his feet for long.

"Because you're heavy and my size," Jungkook answers nonchalantly, telling him to at least try holding his forearm, so he doesn't fall.

Carrying you in his arms with Taehyung attached to his side is even more difficult but by the time you make it into the elevator, he promises himself not to ever listen to you or Taehyung's drunk ideas.

Fortunately for Jungkook and his sake, Taehyung finds his way to the couch and even though Jungkook had to scold him to take off his shoes before he enters his home any further, he slouches himself on the couch and falls asleep right away.

Jungkook manages to put you into your newly assembled bed and fresh sheets. The bed fits into his office room but with the lack of space, one side has to be pressed against the wall and it looks a little bit awkward but it's not like it's important.

While Jungkook is taking your shoes off, you start to shift on your spot as your eyes open with a few lazy blinks as you look around. It's funny watching you trying to figure out where you are, until you spot Jungkook's desk and computer before Jungkook himself stares at you with a tiny amused grin.

You suddenly pat your face, gasping. "My make-up."

For fuck sake, Jungkook thinks as he sighs and is ready to try to convince you to take it off tomorrow because he doesn't have the energy to get you to the bathroom and take it off for you while you will keep dozing off. He doesn't really need you falling and hitting your head or something. Why can't you just lay down and sleep like Taehyung does? 

You're already standing up before Jungkook can somehow convince you to go to sleep either way, and he quickly pushes you back to bed. "Alright, alright, I'll be right here. Just wait."

A tiny part of him, okay actually a big one, hopes by the time he comes back you'll be already asleep but of course, it wouldn't be you if you listened to his never spoken pleas. He finds you staring at the ceiling with a lazy look, your eyes fighting for some sleep but you remain awake, looking at Jungkook who sits on the edge of bed.

He takes off your make-up, careful not to be too harsh with his movements. He brought way more make-up wipes than it's needed and if you were observant enough, you would definitely scold him for wasting your wipes like that.

Luck is on his side and you remain oblivious to the unnecessary waste but in his defense, he wants to make sure all of your make-up is gone and you won't curse him the first thing in the morning if you had panda eyes or new break-outs. Honestly, he thinks you would curse him out even if you hadn't any of those, just the thought of going to sleep with your make-up on would be a good reason for you to scold him.

He can't help but chuckle at his thoughts – at the sight of you who has a lazy smile spreaded on your lips.

"Did I really kiss Taehyung?" you suddenly ponder quietly, eyes slowly opening as you try to locate Jungkook ones.

"You almost did." Jungkook answers, gently rubbing the make-up wipe on your chin.

"Oh," you let out, surprised that it wasn't a figment of your drunken imagination. "Wow."

Jungkook glances at you for a second, eyes flickering to your astonished expression before he goes back to his task. "Yeah," he mumbles, "Didn't know you had a thing for Taehyung."

He knows you don't – that's why his tone comes out more light as he lightly jokes.

"I don't," you reply,  "I mean... What's wrong about kissing another friend of mine?" you joke back, snorting at your joke while he frowns.

But he remains silent, not even sure what to say to that because you're clearly drunk. Sober you would be freaked out at the thought of kissing him.

"Jimin has a girlfriend now, so I can't kiss him too."

An audible but slight snort leaves Jungkook's mouth as you continue with your joking.

"Well, too bad it's only us guys." Jungkook jokes, your grin falling off your face immediately as he puts the last make-up wipe onto the floor before he informs you he's done, but that goes unnoticed by you as you sit up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, frowning as he catches you by your forearm when you totter and almost fall back. "You would kiss other girls?"

Jungkook tries to stifle back a laugh as your hardened and serious face is not too hard to miss.

"Weren't you about to kiss Taehyung?" he points out, still joking of course but in your current state you can't seem to notice the slightest twitch of his lips or the way he bites into the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing.

This is actually interesting, he thinks, obviously he is just joking and it's not because he can't imagine having another woman or women in your small friends group of four. It's because he's already risking too much by being this close to you – but he purposely pushes any doubts and fears away – he surely wouldn't risk any other friendship by just kissing his friends.

Lifting your hand up, you sloppily trace his lips while he stares at you amusingly as you seem too deep in your thoughts. "Your lips are mine to kiss." you tell him, grinning drunkenly at him and he bites back a laugh, rubbing his nose to hide his grin instead.

"Yeah?" he chuckles and you give him one stiff nod.

"Yeah," you confirm, "I'm not allowing any other girls in our group."

"Alright," Jungkook finally laughs, nodding as he stands up and ushers you to lay back down. "You're the boss here."

Again, you miss his amused tone and expression, thinking he's completely serious as you nod.

"Of course I am," you purse your lips, "I don't want to sleep in my jeans," you mutter sleepily, trying to unbutton them but it's hard to do in your state. "Help me?"

Jungkook sighs, but helps you to get out of your clothes. He was hoping you would just go to sleep. It's not like he minds changing your clothes. He's not exactly a typical best friend and he has seen it all, like you would gladly remind him if he refused, but still – he doesn't find it comfortable changing your clothes when you're in this state. Purely out of respect for you.

Once you're out of your clothes, bra gone with your panties only shielding you, Jungkook tries not to look at your exposed form until he hands you one of your larger size t-shirts you sleep in. You ask for pants which he puts on you as well, the first one he has managed to find which happens to be with a Christmas motive.

"Okay, you're all set boss," Jungkook says, clapping his hands together as he's about to stand up but you grab him by his wrists, slowly sitting up as you tug him closer to you. "What is it?"

You just stare at him, fighting off the sleepiness as you inch closer and deliver a soft peck on his lips. Jungkook is stunned for a moment, staring at you confusingly as you give him a sheepish grin.

"I'm just staking my claim."

Jungkook snorts in amusement, shaking his head at you. "Because of who? I'm not kissing anyone else." he laughs and you frown, suddenly pouting as if you just remember what he is talking about. In your drunk and hazy mind, you have trouble trying to remember what happened in the car in the first place.

"As you shouldn't," you tell him smartly and he laughs quietly.

He knows you're drunk but if it happened while sober, he would actually think you're quite selfish for saying that considering you were about to drunkenly kiss Taehyung. But 'drunkenly' is the key point and he understands that. He doesn't even care, knowing you both got wasted that you barely knew what you were doing. He was just teasing you earlier, he wasn't expecting you to start talking about it.

"I'm getting cold, can you cuddle me?"

"Drink some water first," he says, handing you the glass of water he brought earlier along with the make-up wipes.

You do, gulping it in one go before you hand him the glass back, making yourself comfortable in your bed as Jungkook covers your body. Urging him to join you in bed, he tries to explain he needs to take a shower as you whine childishly. But he doesn't ask you, simply walking out of the room to take a quick shower.

He goes back to check on you, not expecting you to still be awake as you pat a free space next to you.

There's no escape from this, that much is clear to him and without arguing, he joins you in bed.

You start caressing the side of his face and he stares at you with a confused yet amused expression but that's until you give him a kiss. Is that a mint he tastes? 

He frowns in confusion, wondering where the hell have you found it but then he sees a pack of mint dragees on the side table.

However, the kiss doesn't last too long because he pulls away and you pout immediately.

"You don't want to kiss?"

He doesn't know whether you're annoying right now or just cute.

"You're drunk." he informs you as if he just told you news, or at least that's how you currently look as you open your mouth and almost offendly stare up at him.

Your mind seems to be clouded and in your current state you don't understand there are a few reasons why Jungkook wouldn't want to kiss at this moment – but right now all you can feel is offended that he pulled away.

"No, I'm not."

Jungkook chuckles, looking down for a moment while he stays propped on his elbow. "Yes, you are."

You give him a glare, trying to look intimidating but Jungkook wants to laugh rather than feeling intimidated.

"Okay, maybe a little bit," you roll your eyes, "But we can still kiss?"

"That's not what a gentleman would do." Jungkook hums, lips twitching when you whine and slap sheets frustratedly instead.

"Then don't be a gentleman."

"You're so bratty when you're drunk." he comments, shaking his head at you with a grin as he leans over you.

For a moment you think he's about to kiss you but he turns off the lamp instead, causing you to frustratedly huff.

"I won't ever kiss you." you murmur, huffing again as Jungkook lets out another snort.

"We'll see about that." Jungkook mutters and you scoff.

"No, I won't. You can kiss my ass next time."

"Oh, I will," Jungkook grins, "Gladly,"

You turn around with your back to him, mind getting too hazy and tired to continue this argument – or whatever it is.

"Now go to bed, brat. You'll have a nice awakening tomorrow."

You barely register his words, murmuring something you can't even realize you're saying because you're completely out of it. You drift off to sleep with Jungkook scooting closer, enveloping you with his arm and warmth.

"Fucking hell,"

Jungkook isn't even surprised when those are your first words as you join him in the kitchen, holding your head with a pained expression scrunching your puffy morning features.

He has heard voices before you came here, you and Taehyung both complaining about yesterday's night and how much you've overdone it. Not that he disagrees.

Sitting on the stool, Jungkook slides you some painkillers with a glass of water – the same thing he did to Taehyung before he went back to sleep.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver."

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes, preparing cereals for himself as he sends you a look across his shoulder. "Have you thrown up already?"

"Yeah." you embarrassingly admit, just right after you woke up and made it to the bathroom.

"That's good, you will feel better now. If it makes you better, Taehyung already threw up two times. Luckily I expected it, so I prepared a bucket next to him."

You give him a crooked smile, despite the pain your stomach and head is already experiencing.

"What about work?" Jungkook asks, glancing at the digital clock on his stove, seeing you should've been gone a long time ago.

He didn't want to wake you up, knowing you won't be able to wake up at six in the morning when you went to sleep around midnight completely wasted.

"I called Junho, told him I woke up feeling sick."

Yeah, some time in your still half drunk state with a raspy and gruffy voice.

"What did he say?"

"He wasn't happy," you wince, "I'm sure he added to my headache."

"He's a fucking idiot then." Jungkook shrugs, showing you his bowl of cereal in a silent offer but you almost gag, shaking your head with a hand on your mouth.

"Please, I'm the idiot here. Who gets drunk on Sunday when they have work the next day?" you deadpan, Jungkook snorting.

"True,"

He gives you a grin across his shoulder and you reciprocate it, rolling your eyes at him.

"Maybe you'll learn from your mistakes."

"You're annoying." you comment, Jungkook holding his breakfast as he starts eating while standing.

You notice he's fully closed. Jeans, oversized emerald colored hoodie looking fresh which can't be said about you or Taehyung who's trying to sleep his hangover off.

"So were the two of you," Jungkook reacts right away, "Do you remember something from last night?"

"Just fragments," you cringe at yourself, "Did I do something embarrassing?"

Jungkook smirks, swallowing his bite as he leans back against the counter. "Well, let's see...you guys kept drinking despite me warning you. You just waved me off every time and oh, you and Taehyung were about to kiss,"

You wince, but not saying anything about it as he continues.

"I had to take off your make-up, as usual. Then you wanted to kiss me but you were drunk, so I tried to politely refuse but you got all bratty,"

He's enjoying it, it's not that hard to tell considering he's amusingly grinning. "You told me my lips are only yours to kiss."

"Oh my god!" you exclaim, hiding your face away from him as he finally breaks and starts laughing.

"Do you remember any of it?"

"Yes to Taehyung, even though it's pretty hazy and I don't remember much from there. But I do remember uh," you gulp, "saying something about your lips."

"Yeah, you got very serious about it."

"Shut up," you glare at him right away. "I was drunk! You can't take me seriously!"

"Didn't know you wanted to kiss me so badly." he continues to tease you as you groan, searching for something around you to hit him with and Jungkook erupts into another fit of laughter.

"I don't," you grit through clenched teeth, "My drunk self gets cuddly and loves affection." you mutter, pouting as Jungkook scrunches his nose as he grins.

"I figured."

"Please just shut up," you beg him, "Where are you going?"

Jungkook smirks, your attempt of changing topic doesn't go unnoticed by him but he decides no longer to make you suffer.

"I'm working till four and then I'm gonna hang out with Ester."

"Oh," you let out surprisingly, "Okay."

"She's joining me on my last shoot, I want her to see how I work so we can, you know, do a better job when we work on that project,"

Ah, yes. The project Junho wanted Jungkook on. You're supposed to work on it in a month or so, the date going back and forth but not too much that it would cause any problems to Jungkook, due to his busy schedule. It's pretty unusual for him to be still home at this time – but not completely rare.

"What are you gonna do today?"

"There's not much I can do with a hangover," you snort, "I think I'm gonna spend the day with Taehyung until he decides to go home." you shrug as Jungkook nods while he continues eating.

In that moment Jungkook's phone starts to ring, interrupting your conversation even though there wasn't much to be said as his eyebrows furrow in curiosity while he pulls the phone out of the pocket of his jeans.

"It's Jimin," he says, looking at the screen before he accepts it and taps the screen, putting the phone on the counter between you two. "Hey, you're on speaker."

"Finally!" Jimin exclaims, "Who's there?"

"Hey, Jimin." you call out, letting your presence known as Jimin greets you back.

"Where the hell is Taehyung? I tried to reach out to him but his phone seems to be turned off." Jimin asks, while Jungkook leans forward against the counter with his elbows, brows raising up as he glances at you and grins.

You shake your head playfully, "Don't worry, he's here at Jungkook's. His battery probably died."

"Ah, typical of him. I should've known it's nothing serious but what is he even doing there, Kook?"

As Jungkook opens his mouth, awake Taehyung joins you in the kitchen as he recognizes Jimin's voice immediately, not that it matters because he glances at the screen either way to make sure it's really him.

"What's up, traitor." Taehyung greets Jimin, a beat of silence on the other side as you and Jungkook snort.

"Where the hell have you been, man? I was trying to reach you but apparently your battery is dead. Were you partying again?"

Taehyung purses his lips as he stares at the phone with raised brows, which you have to admit is kind of funny especially with his puffy and totally hangover face. At least this time he doesn't stink of alcohol and you can smell mouthwash whenever he opens his mouth – not that you were any different though.

"I was, indeed. We were actually, you know, us single people, although..." he trails off and gives you and Jungkook a look.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and you glare at Taehyung, silently telling him to shut up. Thankfully, he just grins back playfully at you, enjoying teasing the hell out of you and Jungkook. Jimin doesn't catch Taehyung's implication and just continues to burble that he just wanted to talk to him, but as if he knew Taehyung will open his big mouth and most likely call him out on his new relationship, he just casually says Taehyung to call him.

It looks like Jimin is not sure whether you and Jungkook know about his relationship – which you do thanks to the mentioned Taehyung's big mouth – and it is kind of amusing to see him playing it safe when all of you know the truth.

However, you would appreciate Jimin coming up to you and telling you when he wants to. Even though, in your opinion, it's not a big deal at all.

Their call ends shortly after, Jungkook has to go to work and you and Taehyung are left to deal with your hangover alone. Left to just simply wait until it passes away because there's nothing else you can do.

That's until Taehyung realizes he has never called into his work to tell them he's not coming today.

You have a great moment of laughing at the way he tries to fake sickness while he keeps flicking you off, glaring at you as he warns you to keep your mouth shut.

"Oh, you're awake,"

Surprised by Jungkook being wide awake, still lying in his bed while you tried to sneak-in into his bedroom to take some of your clothes, you expected him to be still asleep considering he starts working around lunch today.

The past two weeks have been pretty hectic for both of you, especially for Jungkook since he has barely been home and if he has, he spent it in his office anyway. There were a few times when you were falling asleep with him still editing photos in the room – something he always apologized for and tried to do his work quickly, so you could sleep peacefully. It doesn't matter how many times you assure it's okay and you don't really mind.

Yes, you prefer to sleep in complete silence and darkness, but there was something peaceful about the occasional clicks that lullabied you to sleep.

So the last thing you expected to see is him being awake at seven in the morning. Though his face is puffy and looking as if he has just woken up, he looks pretty awake for someone that can sleep a few more hours – you know you would.

Jungkook waves at you lazily, hoisting himself up so his back is leaned against the headboard.

"Sorry, I spilled my make-up on my pants and it doesn't match with my blouse, so I need to grab new clothes." you apologize, fully realizing you're just in a pair of underwear, completely exposed to Jungkook but you don't pay that much attention to it.

It's not like he has never seen you like this before. Yes, you don't usually walk around half-naked, that's his speciality, but you don't feel uncomfortable.

The office barely has space for your bed, so all of your clothes are actually in Jungkook's closet and drawers – that's why you often take your next day outfits to your room, so you don't have to barge into his bedroom every morning.

"No worries," Jungkook rasps out, voice tilted to more light and amused side. "I'm enjoying the view."

You straighten, suddenly realizing you've been a little bit bent over right in front of him, trying to search for one of your skirts you wear to work.

Giving him a look across your shoulder, you purse your lips and raise your brows at him, seeing him grinning at you widely with his eyes almost disappearing.

"Why are you awake anyway?" you ask, turning back around to search for your clothes. Luckily, you woke up a little bit earlier for some reason, so you've got some time to kill.

Where is the damn skirt? 

Met with silence, you turn your head around, enough to see Jungkook eyeing your ass with tongue slowly licking his bottom lip as you exclaim his name in disbelief.

"Couldn't sleep," Jungkook shrugs, eyes still attached to your backside. "Are those new panties?"

Sighing, you ignore him as you finally pull out the right skirt, tossing it at the end of his bed while you search for a top that matches.

"Since when do you wear a thong to work?"

Clenching your jaw, you turn around to him with a hand on your hip, raising your brows. "Sometimes, I do."

"Mhm," he hums, eyes momentarily on yours before they drop down your body. "Come join me in the bed." he says casually as you let out a surprised laugh.

"I'm going to work, Jeon. I don't have time for this."

"I can be quick."

"I know you can," you hum, "I don't want to be late."

You're not one to refuse sex, not when the last time you had it was a little over two weeks ago and you're too ashamed to admit that your friend was in the next room. Ashamed, but still kind of excited when you think about it. Like you said, those two weeks have been hectic and when you had the time, Jungkook was busy and even when there was a little time to chat, times where he would join you on the couch, you would rather spend that time catching up and just spending time together rather than having sex.

"Okay, so just stay bended for five minutes then,"

He says it so casually that if you weren't listening to him, you would have thought he's talking about the most casual and random thing.

Eyes almost falling out of their sockets, you stare at him in utter disbelief as you notice the sudden movements under the sheets. "Wait–are you touching yourself?!" you exclaim in disbelief, Jungkook rolling his eyes at your reaction as he shrugs.

"I woke up with a hard cock," he answers nonchalantly, "I'm serious, just bend over. I'm gonna have to at least settle with a good view."

He's serious, you realize as you see him touching himself right in front of you, eyes locked onto yours while you stare with your mouth open, too shocked to speak. But you shake yourself out of it, shaking your head at his bluntness while you ignore the starting tingle between your thighs. There's just something about him being so worked up, wanting to use you for the visual that makes your skin hot.

It's also a huge boost of confidence and maybe that's one of the reason sex with Jungkook is so good. No one has ever made you feel so confident and good in your own skin, especially when it comes to sex. Sure, you felt more confident with Haneul compared to Haechan, only because Haneul hasn't been that much experienced and everything you knew, learned from Jungkook and having sex with him, you used with him.

Jungkook hands slowly pumping his length under the covers, you gape at him as you snort a little, turning back to the closet as you pull out a white turtleneck, coming to a conclusion it matches well with your soft pink powder skirt.

Tossing it along with a hanger next to your skirt, Jungkook whines when you're turned back to him, robbing him from the previous side of your ass and the thong that barely covers you.

But you join him in the bed, your knees on the soft mattress as you start crawling to him which makes his eyes sparkle with hope.

"You're really shameless, you know that?" you ask, sending him a grin once you slowly pull the cover off his lower body, revealing his hand wrapped around his hard length.

Trying not to salivate at the sight, you nudge his hand away and quickly replace it with your own as Jungkook sighs in delight.

"So are you," he sighs pleasantly, closing his eyes with head leaning against the headboard. "Come on, get on my lap."

As tempting as that sounds, you refrain yourself from doing as Jungkook pleases, only because you know there's not much time you've got left. You can't afford to take a quick shower, knowing you most likely would be running late to work and Junho is already annoyed at you for not coming to work two weeks ago, when you were hungover – which he hopefully doesn't know but still, it would be just adding fuel to the fire.

"I can't," you tell him, wrapping your lips around his red tip as you gently suck on it, causing his breath to hitch. You look up at him, hand pumping him up and down as you lick your lips. "I've got work, we can't have sex."

Well, at least he's getting something out of it and he doesn't push it. You go back to work, working your lips and mouth on him again, trying to take him deeper into the warmth of your awaiting mouth.

"You, uh, you still haven't told me about what you wanna–"

"Do you seriously want to talk or get your dick sucked?" You cut him off, simply because you already know what he was about to say. You knew he wouldn't just let go of your previous conversation.

"Actually–"

But you don't get him a chance to finish his sentence, going straight for his balls as you know he loves, your mouth sucking on them while your wrist twists as you pump his hard cock. He curses under his breath, hand already wrapped around your hair as he puts it into a ponytail, tightening his hold on it.

"Fuck, you really are minx."

You smile against him, licking a long stripe up his length which glistens with your saliva .

"Are you sure you've got time for this?" he questions with a breathy chuckle, noticing you're not playing around and going right in with giving him a mindblowing blowjob.

Letting him out of your mouth with an audible pop, you glance up with a little smirk.

"I can be quick." you tease, seeing his lips curve into a familiar smirk before you continue.

"That's not fair–mhm, yeah fuck just like that."

You would snort if your mouth wouldn't be full of his cock. You just hope your make-up won't be ruined after this because even though you're not wasting any time, you're still careful enough not to gag around him or take him too deep which could make your eyes water. Jungkook seems pleased with what you're doing though, not really minding that he's not hitting the back of your throat because whatever you're doing right now, he's enjoying it.

And just when you think things can get any worse for you, considering the wetness between your thighs that's understandable and hard to ignore, Jungkook lets go of your hair and sneaks his hand under your bralette, palming your breast. You let out a sound, both of you not sure if it's to scold him or moan, Jungkook pinches your breasts which makes you whine around him.

Too ashamed to admit it, your heat is pulsing with need and desperation, and for a moment you wonder if you will risk it and let Jungkook have his way with you. Your responsible self is against it though, knowing you barely have the time to get to work just in time.

With your jaw already aching and your spit drooling down Jungkook length, you sneak your hand to his balls as you squeeze, knowing it will just fasten his orgasm. Jungkook breathing gets quicker, his own hips trying their best not to thrust into your mouth as you quicken your pace. A round of curses resound from Jungkook's mouth, a few words of him praising you how good you're taking his cock, he informs you he's close.

"Where do I cum?" he asks breathlessly, orgasm approaching every second. "You want it in your mouth?"

You hum in confirmation. Well obviously, you don't want to get your make-up ruined, you would tell him if your mouth wasn't full of him. And you definitely can't afford to feel his cum on your skin, knowing you would have to take a shower because there is no way you'll go to work with a sticky chest and dried cum on it.

"My little slut," Jungkook grits his teeth and if you weren't busy sucking him off, you would gasp at those explicit words you haven't heard in a while. Again, you feel your walls clenching around nothing and it takes a lot of restriction not to sit on his lap and ride him.

"Fuck."

And then your mouth is being filled with Jungkook's warm and salty cum, your mouth eagerly swallowing it as you slow down your pace, letting him sloppily thrust into your mouth while he fucks himself through the orgasm. Once he's done, he lets out another but loud pleased sigh, head thumping against the headboard.

Pulling his softening cock out of your mouth, your thumb catches some of his cum in the corner of your lips as you suck on your digit, swallowing it just in the right time as Jungkook glances at you.

"You're amazing."

"Of course I am," you cock a brow at him knowingly, grinning as you get off the bed. "Is my make-up ruined?" you ask, quickly gathering your clothes as you start putting them on.

Your lipstick has to be gone, considering most of it is painting Jungkook's cock. At least you chose a nude shade this time.

"No." Jungkook answers, grinning at you as you sigh while you start adjusting your turtleneck.

Quickly making your way to the bathroom to check your appearance, you gasp. He lied. Not only is your lipstick no longer on your lips, it's smeared on the right part of your cheek and your mascara is a little bit smudged. Well, you used to look worse and considering the intense morning blowjob you just gave him, you do look pretty decent. Just not decent to go to work like this.

"Jungkook!"

A sound of cackling is what you hear in return.

There's no time for scolding him, the time on your phone you quickly check shows you're already running a little bit late. You just hope you will manage to still come in time, not wanting to explain to Junho why you're running late. Not that you would tell him the truth of course.

Quickly yelling a bye to Jungkook after you get rid of the smudges and reapply your lipstick, you rush to work and luckily, the road hasn't been that busy which didn't make it even more difficult for you. You manage to arrive just in time which makes you relax.

It's only five minutes later when you sit behind your desk that you realize you never brushed your teeth or used a mouthwash after the blowjob, Jungkook's taste remaining on your tongue. When Benjamin offers you a coffee, you accept it with hot cheeks and a crooked smile.

Jungkook returns back home in the afternoon before you, tidying up the place even if there's not much to begin with. He takes care of the laundry, feeling bad that you've been taking care of it for the past few weeks since he's been too busy to do most mundane things. He's glad he could've gone to the gym for a good work-out at least twice in a week, which is way less frequent from what he's used to.

That's why he purposely scheduled today to be more free, and had only one photoshoot to do before he came back home.

Ironically, he feels more exhausted than he usually does when he's totally busy and constantly doing something productive. But just as he plops down on the couch, eyes searching for the remote to turn on the television, his phone starts to ring.

Jungwon. Well, that's unexpected.

"Hey, bro." His brother's voice resounds from the phone even before Jungkook can open his mouth, noticing he's video calling him.

"What's up, hyung?" Jungkook grins, noticing the background of their living room as his brother sits down.

"You never call, I have to be the one who reaches out to you," Jungwon teasingly scolds him, earning a playful roll of his eyes. "Mom whined about it too. You barely call them."

Jungkook winces at the mention of their parents. "I'm so busy with work, hyung. But I try to call her as much as I can."

"She misses you," Jungwon grins, not saying anything new because she misses him all the time and she tells him every time they call each other. "Me like a good son, told her that."

"Well, you, a good son, live in the same city. At least she has you close." Jungkook remarks, a guilt spreading on his face at the thought of his parents, and mostly mom, knowing she probably just misses talking to her son.

Jungwon notices it though, dropping his teasing as he gives Jungkook a warm smile. "You're her youngest son. Always been her baby." he teases again, causing Jungkook to groan and throw his head back, though there's a smile spreading on his lips.

"I will call her tomorrow."

"I know, I was just teasing you. She is dramatic sometimes."

They both share a laugh, knowing their mom gets super sentimental whenever it comes to her two sons, no matter how old they are. It's true it's been a few weeks since he called his parents, which is longer than usual, though the latest call he had with his mom was anything but pleasing. When Jungkook's mom kept asking about Kiko, inviting them to visit them soon he just had to tell her the truth. Well, a part of it and that is revealing they're no longer together, and this time it's final.

To say she was surprised is an understatement. She was happy when Jungkook told her they're back together, simply wanting what's best for her son and she thought it's her. Surely, he kept a lot of private things away from her which he's not sure if she knew how she would react. Like it was mentioned, she is sentimental and he didn't want to hurt her any further by knowing the raw and cruel truth. At least not through a phone call and to be completely honest, he's not sure if he wants to tell her. It's not something he has thought about a lot.

He prefers not to think about it too much, simply just distracting himself from the unnecessary thoughts.

But he told her and so did he tell Jungwon as well the last time they spoke. He was just as surprised, but ultimately they've all been very supportive and to Jungkook's luck, they weren't talking or asking about it too much which he appreciated.

"How are you guys though? How's Haru?" Jungkook asks, cutting himself from the thoughts as he notices his brother's soft smile at the mention of his precious daughter.

"We're good, that's why I'm actually calling you." Jungwon grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as Jungkook raises his brow at him in question, knowing he probably has an ulterior motive for calling him.

"What is it?"

"We're planning a trip to Seoul next weekend, we've never taken Haru there so now that she's older it's more fun because she experiences more things and it's fun for her too. I'm actually planning on surprising Sona and I made a reservation at this very nice restaurant, but you know, I wanted it to be romantic and just us. I know you work during weekends sometimes, but I was wondering if you couldn't babysit Haru for us?"

"Hyung!" Jungkook exclaims, Jungwon giving him another sheepish grin.

Obviously, Jungkook loves his niece and always buys her gifts whenever he sees her, something he gets scolded for by her parents. He loves spending time with her and he misses her, though the thought of actually babysitting her makes him feel a little unsettled. The only people who have ever babysat her were his parents or Sona's.

What if she cries the whole time? He hasn't seen her for months now, the only visual has been through video calling.

"Please, tell me you're free." Jungwon pleads.

"I am but--"

"Please help us. We have barely had time for just ourselves, I really want to take her out on a romantic dinner. I already made a reservation."

"What if she cries? What if she--"

"Jungkook-ah," Jungwon sighs, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Haru absolutely loves you and talks about you almost all the time. She's gonna be fine. So will you."

"I don't know hyung," Jungkook scratches the back of his head, scrunching his nose a little. "Where are you guys staying?"

"I found a good hotel. But the dinner reservation is around seven, I don't know how long we will be there but it's gonna be around Haru's past bedtime, so I would be very very very," Oh, no. "happy if she could stay a night over there. We will pick her up the first thing in the morning, I promise."

"It's not about that and you know it," Jungkook sighs, "What if she really misses you and starts crying or something?"

"Then you will call us and we will pick her up." Jungwon says casually as if it's the easiest thing.

And it is. He doesn't know why he's suddenly so nervous about babysitting his own niece whom he loves very much.

"Fine." Jungkook mutters, rolling his eyes playfully as Jungwon exclaims a loud "yes", thanking his younger brother as if he just saved his life.

He supposes that's what happens when you get married and have a child. There is barely any time for romance, Jungwon's face of happiness clearly says it all.

"No."

"Y/N, please!"

"Jungkook, I'm not a babysitter." you murmur, feet tiredly tapping against the floor as you make your way to the kitchen to get rid of your dry throat.

You've come home later than usual, you had to stay overtime with some of the co-workers, along with Yoongi who kept annoyingly showing his irritation every five minutes. Spending your day in heels for more than a half day, the last thing you expected was for Jungkook to jump at you as soon as you took off the annoying heels, trying to include you into something he promised to his brother apparently.

"But you love kids!" he exclaims, right at your heels as he follows you.

"I do," you nod, pulling out a bottle of water out of the fridge as you open the cap and take a short sip because of its coldness. "What if something happens? I don't want to be responsible for that."

"Nothing will happen," he assures you, "Come on, I thought you loved Haru."

"I do, she's cute," you argue, "But she doesn't even remember me. We were there last summer and ever since then I haven't seen her. How do you know if I don't have any plans for the weekend?"

You take a few gulps before you close the bottle and place it on the counter, met with Jungkook's stare.

"Well, do you?" He arches his brow at you as you purse your lips.

"I don't."

Jungkook scoffs, letting out a sigh as he slowly looks up at you. "Didn't you use to babysit? You've got to have some experiences."

His perseverance wants to make you laugh because this man never gives up.

"I did, back at home and it was a few years ago." you deadpan, causing him to sigh again as he slowly walks to you while you watch him warily.

"I could really use your help," he mutters, thumb wiping your undereyes where the mascara is a little bit smudged but you haven't got the time to see your reflection yet. It's been a long day. "Haru is sweet. She's not a spoiled kid, she's actually very calm and we'll have to babysit her just for a few hours because then it's her bedtime."

You stare into his dark orbs, finding them looking at you with those big eyes and a cute expression that makes you groan. It's not like you're against helping him or babysitting his niece. She really was cute the last time you've seen her.

"Fine." you roll your eyes, Jungkook clapping excitedly before you're wrapped by his arms, face pressed tightly against his chest.Who are you kidding? Of course you would agree one way or another.

[kismets-barista]

Lil Brozone, Floyd- centric oneshot for y'all's enjoyment!

Spoilery for Band Together, so if you're still awaiting watching the movie I'd suggest waiting to read, my friends! Have a lovely night!

Five months, twenty eight days.

That’s how long it had taken him to be able to walk without having to stop for breath.

Floyd was fully recovering, slowly but surely. After moving back to Pop Village, there’d been nothing for him except plenty of rest, John Dory’s incessant mother henning (seriously, that guy was the textbook definition of Anxiety even if he continued to deny it,) and help from his brothers to recuperate. They’d laid off on any public performances, putting aside thoughts of the word tour for later on. Way later on. 

But today was the day. Finally the day they’d decided to put on a public performance, a day that had all of them on their toes with preparations for the five song ‘concert.’ The energy buzzing in the air was something Floyd had missed, but the troll could honestly barely concentrate on how excited he was as his chest filled with sticky, sludgy feelings of dread. The magenta-haired troll sat in front of his light-rimmed vanity mirror, staring back at the shock of white that ran from the roots of his hair and up to the middle. 

He thought he’d gotten over this. 

It wasn’t going to change. It was evident that his hair, along with himself, had permanently changed as a result of that capture. Of his death. 

And pretty much everyone in the village knew that it was a result of something. A bad something. 

Some of them, Cooper specifically, had outright asked. But he didn’t have the best buffer, so Floyd couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad. Others had given him looks, even staring as he began to get out of the house those first months. He could remember the eyes trained on him as John Dory slowly helped him along, talking about an adventure he’d gone on way ‘back in his day,’ as he liked to call it. Floyd had kept to himself, mostly, until John Dory noticed how quiet his brother was being and did something the younger couldn’t.

He stared back at the trolls. Sure, it probably planted the seeds of assumption that John Dory was every bit as standoffish as Branch used to be, but Floyd had to admire his brother’s determination to keep him comfortable. 

“Ten minutes til final soundchecks!” Mayday (Brozone’s stage director’s) voice cut through the silence, and Floyd jerked out of his reverie. He sighed, opening the drawer to his desk and fished through a thousand hair products and ties to pull out a fluffy, white scrunchy. Maybe pulling it up would help lessen the… amount of times people had to see his hair. Floyd let out another sigh as he pulled up his hair, staring himself down in the mirror as he twisted it every which way. “Come on… there’s gotta be some way I can make you look normal again,” he whispered fiercely, tugging on his hair harder as desperation bubbled in his chest. Every way he moved it, white, white, white. The young troll’s hands began to shake as he started to tie it up, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his breathing shortened. 

How could he go out there looking like this? It’s bad enough as it is, why did he think for a second that today would be any different with how he felt about this… this awful hair of his? 

He considered flaking on his brothers as his breaths began to come out in short gasps. A thousand different excuses flitted through his mind, and Floyd began to grasp at them, one by one. He wasn’t feeling well. He was exhausted again. He couldn’t catch his breath quite right - no, that one would send them into a panic, probably. The thoughts crescendoed, and Floyd yanked on the scrunchie a bit too hard. It snapped, and rebounded on his hand. Causing the duo-tone haired-troll to yelp in pain. He flicked his head in the air, waving off the sting before letting his head sink down to rest on the top of the vanity. He was getting himself way too worked up… this wasn’t going to help anything. He needed to do this show. Needed to prove that he was… fine. Well. As fine as he could be.

“This is for all the lonely people…” he whisper-sang to himself, voice breathy as he steadied his pounding heart. Pulling on his fingers gently. “Thinking that life has passed us by…”

“We won’t give up until we, drink from that silver cup, and ride…” Floyd’s voice tapered off as he frowned, momentum to sing even to himself puttering off. Today was supposed to be a happy day. But here he slumped, moping like someone had just kicked a box of kittens in front of him.

“Ride that highway in the sky.” The lyric lifted softly as a question, and the troll sat up and looked behind himself in confusion. His face lit up at the sight of Branch, his baby brother leaning against the doorframe with his arms loosely crossed against each other.

“Oh, Branch. Hey.” Floyd offered him a grin, to which his younger brother readily responded with one of his own. 

“Hey. Was looking for you. JD wanted us to have a little meeting or whatever before our final soundchecks for the show so I came to get you. How’re you feeling?” He asked while walking over, sitting near his brother. Taking in everything about the older troll, inquisitive blue eyes flitting over the top of Floyd’s hair and down to his toes.

“I’m fine,” Floyd shrugged, stretching as he stood. Paused as he realized that saying ‘I’m fine’ was not an appropriate response, as Branch had told him so many times before. Practically drilled it into his head, at this point. He cut Branch off before his younger brother could say anything by shaking his head and letting out a loud “I meant- I meant that I’m feeling really good. I’m excited for the show, I slept plenty last night so I’m not tired, and I stretched this morning so I’m not achy like I usually am when I wake up.”

He could visibly see Branch’s tightly-wound demeanor relax, and the younger troll stood to join his brother as they headed out of the dressing room.

“Great. Now come on. They’re not too far away.”

And it was only when they made it into the break room, overstuffed couches laden with throw pillows and the ground practically made of mismatched rugs that Floyd realized all of his brothers had hair caps on. They’d happily yelled out his name when he walked in, and Branch had guided the troll over to a couch to sit down before nodding at JD, who’d been chuckling at the fact that Floyd was staring at them as if they all had grown second heads. 

“How ya feelin’, bro-bro? Ready for BroZone’s big debut into Pop Village?”

“Well, when you put it like that, admittedly nervous. But excited, all the same. I’ve missed singing with you all, truly.” He smiled up at his older brothers, who, upon hearing that, all exchanged a look. They nodded at each other, and Bruce took a deep breath while reaching up to the cap covering his hair.

“Well, buddy, we’ve got a bit of a pre-show gift for you,” he started.

“We know how much your hair means to you, and how hard the change has been on you,” Clay continued.

“So we wanted to do a little something just to remind you that you aren’t alone, with how you’re feeling. No matter how hard it may be at times,” Branch finished, and all four of them pulled off their hair caps after JD counted down from three.

And Floyd instantly burst into tears.

Streaking through each of their hair was bold white streaks, the color dyed at the roots of their hair and stretching up and up, just like Floyd’s. It looked natural- how did they do that? 

A million thoughts were running through his mind, but Floyd couldn’t grasp at a single one as the tears continued to pour down his face. He reached out to them, and his brothers were all surrounding him, hugging him tightly. 

“Surprise,” Branch sang softly, and Floyd grabbed onto his arm, squeezing it tightly as he hugged him. He was making his best attempt to hug everyone, which, seeing as it was four full-grown trolls was a bit hard- but the appreciative smile that was plastered onto his face like the sun piercing through a veil of thick clouds was hard to miss. He continued to cry into the hug, emotions overwhelming him as he went from sobs, to weeping that had the four of them pulling him down from the couch and to the ground and up into their arms. 

It took him a few minutes to pull himself together enough to wipe his eyes, but when he did, Floyd gave his brothers the most grateful look he could manage. He didn’t expect to see them crying, too, but it was clear that he’d affected them by crying so hard- and, the fact that they’d already been having a hard time keeping it together even before surprising him with the monumental change. Trolls didn’t just dye their hair- tinsel and extensions were normal in Pop Village but to physically change it like that? It was almost taboo.

“Man, I love you guys so much. I can’t believe you’d just… do that. For me. It means… it means so much.” His voice wavered as he broke down into tears again, but forced himself to reel it in as John Dory patted his back with a big grin.

“Believe it, bro. We’d go to the ends of the earth for you, this wasn’t nothin’ but a stone’s throw across the water if you ask me.”

“What’d I do to deserve such good brothers?” Floyd laughed tearfully, and Clay ruffled his hair gently. “Some would say you were born into this family. And that’s how you got such good brothers.”

The younger troll laughed, taking his brother’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Okay, that was a little cheesy,” Floyd chuckled. “But I gotta ask, who…”

“It was John Dory’s idea,” Bruce boasted proudly for the older troll, who’s ears turned bright red as he looked away.

“Dah, anything for my little brother,” he tried to play it off. But Floyd wasn’t having any of that. The younger troll dove into his older brother, pulling him into a hug. He was followed by his four other brothers, who practically dogpiled him and fell on top of each other. A stunned silence befell the brothers before they burst into laughter, and Floyd could feel a massive weight he didn’t even know that was sitting on his chest lift and dissipate. And he knew right then and there that no matter how down he was feeling about himself, how bad everything could get at times, he would always have his brothers to rely on. There were going to be much, much brighter days ahead.

“I love you guys. So much.” “We love you too, Floyd. Don’t you forget it.”

And he wouldn’t. He never would. 

[jjunberry]

can i be your boyfriend?

pairing! seo changbin x fem! reader

genre! angst with fluffy ending

synopsis! when changbin keeps his feelings for his bestfriend a secret until his friends tease a confession out of him

wc! 940

changbin’s eyes followed your figure. you were dancing around the kitchen with felix making brownies. he loved how well you got a long with his friends. “you make it so obvious dude it’s kind of sad.” jisung spoke. changbin glared at the boy. “make what obvious?” he asked. “that you like her.” chan budded in. jisung laughed at changbin’s shocked face. “i-i do not.” he tried to defend himself he did. however he couldn’t deny the flutter of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach.

“why don’t you just tell her?” chan asked. changbin was quiet. “i can’t.” jisung rolled his eyes at the boy. “and why not?” changbin shrugged his shoulders. “because it’s not true.” he yelled gaining the attention of the rest of the household. “what’s not true?” felix asked curious. “apparently changbin hyung’s feelings for our y/nie.” jeongin answered from having been eavesdropping on the conversation.

your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. changbin caught your eyes before you quickly turned your attention back to the brownie batter. “don’t mind them y/n they’re being stupid.” changbin tried. you let out a small laugh. “yeah of course silly boys.” you dumped the batter into the baking dish. changbin caught onto your off putting attitude. you were quiet and moved away from his tries for cuddles during the movie.

changbin felt like an asshole.

since that night you haven’t answered his phonecalls. ignored his text messages. didn’t respond to his dms. changbin was pretty sure you blocked his phone number. it was quite the opposite though. you listened to every voice mail, read every text, and dm. you still had his number favorited your phone. it hurt to hear him apologizing for something and he didn’t even know what he did wrong.

you had enough of his constant phone calls and your voicemail was full. you gripped your phone and hit the green answer button. “what?” you snapped. “y/n? what has gotten into you? you ignore me for weeks then get nasty when you finally do answer. what’s going on?” he sounded tired. you sighed. “i don’t really want to talk about it.” the temptation to hang up was eating at you, but your heart wanted to hear him out.

“well i want to. i think i deserve to know why my best friend is ignoring me.” changbin sighed deeply and you heard rustling as he moved positions in what you could only assume was his bed. “please.” he pleaded. it was your turn to sigh. “changbin do you have any idea why?” you couldn’t bring yourself to just openly say ‘hey i like you and it hurt my feelings when you said you’d never see me that way.’

“no, i just know i hurt you and i’d like to know what i can do to make it better, to make us better.”

you couldn’t help the scoff that left you. “you don’t even know what you did. changbin i like you but you’d never see me that way.” you seethed. unable to hide the heartbreak any further. “w-what?” he was speechless. his heart was beating out of his chest. you liked him back? before he had the chance to plead his case the call ended.

you took his silence as confirmation of your feelings being unrequited.

it took changbin all of ten minutes to get from the dorm to your apartment. your sobs covered the door bell so he used his key to get in, the key he promised to only use in emergencies. to changbin you crying was always an emergency. a major one since the tears were over him.

he quickly made his way to your room, were you were in a ball under the blankets. he seen your figure shaking and the sound of your sobs shattered the last few pieces of his heart. “y/n.” he spoke softly. you jumped and pulled the blanket off your head. even with your hair sticking up in different directions and your eyes swollen and puffy, you were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“changbin w-what are you doing here?” your voice was shaky. changbin took a few steps before sitting next to you on the bed. “y/n you never even let me reply.” he started but you cut him off. “sorry i didn’t want to hear you reject me.” you seethed flopping down and pulling the blanket over yourself once again.

“will you let me finish please?” he sighed. you shrugged under the covers. changbin placed his hand on your hip and rubbed your leg comfortingly. “before you hung up on me, i was going to tell you that i like you too, not even i love you.” you peeked out from the blanket and looked at changbin who already had his eyes on you.

“you do?” you asked. “yeah i do.” he replied. you sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck. changbin gripped your hips and pulled you onto his lap. his hands slipped under your shirt and he caressed your skin. you locked your hands around his neck. your forehead rested against his. “y/n i love you so much.” he whispered. his lips brushing against yours. “i love you too.” you finally connected your lips to his.

changbin’s grip on your hips tightened and he pulled you closer to him. “y/n?” he asked as you pulled apart. “yeah.” you mumbled chasing his lips after the kiss. “can i be your boyfriend?” you giggled smacking his chest before capturing his lips against yours again. “yes.”

requested! by @dinossaurz

tag list! @304files @jjunieworld

author’s note! ahh my first (official) skz fic i’m so happy to be writing for them tysm for requesting

masterlist

love, echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct. 

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut. 

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging. 

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you. 

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies. 

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make. 

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe. 

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time. 

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.” 

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable. 

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you. 

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization. 

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his. 

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine. 

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes. 

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.” 

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain. 

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.” 

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly. 

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.” 

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.” 

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?” 

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.” 

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.” 

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things. 

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.” 

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying. 

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?” 

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!” 

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.” 

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Then it’s fine.” 

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility. 

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose. 

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission. 

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him. 

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.” 

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight. 

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already. 

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night. 

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had. 

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon. 

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.” 

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.” 

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.” 

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility. 

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.” 

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.” 

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment. 

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.” 

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you. 

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention. 

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?” 

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.” 

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?” 

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?” 

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.” 

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end. 

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.” 

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction. 

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere. 

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.” 

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.” 

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him. 

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink. 

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?” 

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?” 

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.” 

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?” 

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking? 

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.” 

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.” 

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.” 

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you. 

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo. 

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?” 

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.” 

“Clearly.” 

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera. 

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.” 

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint. 

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other. 

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours. 

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features. 

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.” 

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night. 

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly. 

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group. 

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there. 

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm. 

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing. 

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.” 

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.” 

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.” 

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.” 

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow. 

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.” 

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?” 

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you. 

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?” 

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper. 

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless. 

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance. 

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable. 

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-” 

“You haven’t-” 

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.” 

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts. 

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak. 

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing. 

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.” 

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?” 

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you. 

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.” 

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other. 

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.” 

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling. 

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you. 

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…” 

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not. 

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.” 

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes. 

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?” 

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.” 

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak. 

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.” 

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you. 

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly. 

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?” 

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…” 

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?” 

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot. 

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility. 

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.” 

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust. 

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it. 

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t. 

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance. 

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?” 

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming. 

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?” 

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum. 

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder. 

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear. 

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-” 

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.” 

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand. 

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone. 

“Get the fuck off her.” 

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice. 

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you. 

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?” 

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall. 

“She’s not going home with you.” 

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist. 

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?” 

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.” 

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words. 

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist. 

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it. 

“Please,” you beg one last time. 

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm. 

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness. 

Civility. What a broken construct. 

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now. 

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now. 

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE ​​😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE ​​😎Don’t encourage them. 

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date? 

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s. 

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date? 

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything. 

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck? 

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it. 

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE ​​😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE. 

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? 

NANCE has left the groupchat.

[builtbykittie]

Dirty secrets

S.f.k x f!reader

summary: a movie night with your best friend takes a drastic turn after walking in on his insufferable roommate.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, enemies to lovers-ish, SMUT, mentions of masturbation, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, oral(m & f rec), unprotected sex (you know better), sam is kind of an asshole, multiple orgasms, choking if you squint

A/N: once again not edited because I'm lazy... Sorry for any mistakes!! Enjoy!

.

"Heyy beautiful!" Danny smiles, holding the front door open with a wide grin.

"Hi Daniel," you grin, holding out your arms for a hug. You have to admit, you're excited to finally get to spend time with him at his place. You've purposefully avoided going to Danny's house ever since he and Sam moved in together, so most of the time you'd be at bars or parties.

Sam had gone through a breakup not very long ago, he didn't want to stay at his house and moved out. At first, it was just until he got over her and found a new place, but he gets over girls questionably quick and it doesn't seem that he's moving out any time soon. At least not until he moves on to the next girl.

The second you saw that Sam's car was missing from the driveway, you sat up in your seat. You hoped that Sam might've taken off once Danny told him you'd be over. The thought of him being so petty that he leaves makes you giggle, until you remember you'd do the exact same. Is it childish? Absolutely. But maybe you're allowed to be not so mature for once.

But your hopes are crushed as Danny leads you into the house.

"I know you and Sam... aren't the greatest friends," he pauses "but he's at the store getting food. He'll be back sometime soon."

You stop in your tracks, all color draining from your face. "What?" is all you can get out.

After a moment, you finally collect your words. "Danny I thought it was gonna be just us?" You try your best to seem calm and act mature, but the red tint covering your entire body tells otherwise.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. If I had told you any sooner you wouldn't have come," Danny says, further fueling the fire that is your temper.

He can tell you're about to say something and stops you. "Sam was supposed to be out but after I told him what was going on he got defensive and insisted on staying here," Danny shrugs, looking defeated. You can tell they got in a little argument over this and you decide not to go too hard on him, even though he failed to tell you you'd be hanging out with your sworn enemy. The man at the core of all your arguments.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I thought it was gonna be just us. I wish it was," he offers you a smile, but it doesn't help. It makes no sense. Why would Sam of all people want to stick around? To torment you? To show you that this is also his house and he's allowed to be around? He does help Danny pay, after all.

It takes about half an hour of scrolling through streaming sites and saying no to every suggestion to finally decide on a movie. Sam still hasn't returned.

The two of you sit around for another thirty minutes waiting for his return, but it doesn't come. Maybe he really did take off. "Let's just start the movie," Danny finally suggests, you didn't want to say it in case he'd take it as you being upset over Sam, which you are.

You grab a blanket, bringing your feet to your side and cuddling up to his arm. The movie starts, and about ten minutes pass until Sam is finally walking through the door. The second you see him you roll your eyes, already blocking out whatever dumb excuse he has for his tardiness.

But he doesn't say anything, just walking over to the opposite side of the room from you and dropping the bag of food on the coffee table. "Jesus, took you long enough," Danny pauses the movie. "We started the movie, hope you don't mind.

"I do, actually," Sam says as a matter of fact. You try your best not to just get up and walk out. Or scoff at him. Or let your emotions get the best of you.

Danny just looks at you, silently asking if it's okay to rewind. "I don't care. It's only ten minutes," you say rather bitterly, deciding to avoid as much conflict as possible.

Oh, but that stupid face of Sam's drives you crazy. He's got a smug smile playing on his lips, looking right at you. Heaven only knows how badly you want to get up and slap him right in his dumb, pretty little face.

Something about Sam is he thinks that because he's attractive that he can be an asshole. Because he's attractive, life is 10x easier. Getting a girlfriend is incredibly easy, everyone is nice to him, and he always gets his way.

He never really did anything to you, besides being an asshole. You just hated his pretty privilege, attitude, and presence. Something about him just being around puts you in a bad mood. Drove you crazy. The sight of him. The smell of his cologne. The sound of his voice.

And maybe you were attracted to him. Maybe that's what made you hate him the most.

You tried to ignore him. To enjoy the movie, but you just couldn't. Sam's presence is all too distracting. Danny attempts to break the tension by commenting on the movie but that fails miserably, perhaps even making it worse at points.

Finally, Sam gets up and storms off to his room, his cheeks bright pink. "Jesus Christ," Danny sighs, stretching his arms out. You'd be a lot happier if he hadn't left at the last couple of minutes.

"Hey, Danny can I stay here tonight? It's pretty late and I don't wanna drive home half asleep," you yawn, sitting up and stretching.

"Yeah, I just gotta be somewhere in the morning so," he sits up slightly "you done with the movie?"

You feel bad because the entire movie you sat there annoyed and in a bad mood, but it was long and you're tired "Yeah." You stand up, folding the blanket you used "Should I just stay here on the couch or...?"

"Oh, no. There's that guest room by Sam's. If you go down that hall it's the one right across from his. Got its own bathroom, remember?" he yawns, turning the television off, followed by the lamps surrounding you. "Okay I'm going to bed," he mumbles, placing a hand on your head and ruffling up your hair.

"Goodnight, Danny," you place a quick friendly peck on his cheek and pad to the kitchen. You're practically dying of thirst, grabbing a glass from his cupboard and filling it with cold water.

You sit there silently on his counter and sip your water, listening to the faint rustle coming from Danny's room as he gets ready to go to sleep. Slipping off the counter, you gently discard the glass and find the hall that hosts the guest room. You were positive you knew which room it was, but now that you're standing at the entrance of the dark hallway, you have no idea which one it is.

There are three rooms. One on the right side, one on the left, and one at the end of the hall. It occurs to you that you have no idea which room is Sam's. You listen for any sign of life in the rooms, listening to which side it may be coming from. Very faintly, you hear a soft groan, but you can't decide which room it may have come from.

You hear it again, this time you're sure it was from the right, so you head for the left. Just to be sure, you stop and listen again, but you hear nothing, so you turn the knob and open the door.

Instead of finding an empty room with a cold bed, you find shirtless Sam sitting lazily in a sofa chair. His head is thrown back, hair clung to his neck, lips parted, and cheeks bright pink. It takes you a moment to process what you're seeing, even then you can't seem to look away. His hand swirls around his impossibly hard, angry cock as he mouths something you can't quite understand.

His head snaps over to you, movements slowing down but not stopping. It feels as if you're in a daze, your eyes fixated on his sweaty body and your mouth slightly open. "Get the fuck out," he blurts, his voice rough as if he'd been choking it back.

You practically run out, pulling the door but not fully closing it. You stop in the kitchen, trying to process what just happened. Trying to calm yourself down, you grab the same glass from earlier and pour yourself more water, cupping some in your hands and splashing your face with it.

You throw back the drink, chugging the cold liquid and giving yourself a brain freeze. For a while, you stand there fidgeting with the cold glass and staring at nothing. All you can think about is the way he looked, all red and sweaty. Your mind wanders to his cock, the way his hand glided along the incredible length.

You're startled out of your daze once you hear the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. You spin around to find Sam, still shirtless but with boxers on that fail to hide his bulge.

He angrily stares at you for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sam I- I'm sorry I didn't kn-" you start to stammer, but he cuts you off.

"Don't fucking tell anyone, Y/N," he takes a step closer to you. You frantically nod your head, finding yourself motionless against the island as Sam slowly moves closer and closer to you. "Say it. Tell me you won't tell anyone," Sam's voice slightly raises, but still quiet enough to not wake Daniel.

"I- I won't tell anyone, I promise," you practically whine, cowering away from him.

"How do I know you won't use that big fucking mouth of yours, hm?" Now his face is only inches from yours and although you're trying your best to avoid his face, he forces you to look at him.

For a moment, you both stand there, silently staring at each other. Your entire body is flushed, the tension is palpable, and the silence is loud.

One of his large hands finds the waistband of your shorts and dips past it, your breaths growing heavier as the rough tips of his fingers begin to trace your hip bone. "Sam.." you mutter, grabbing his wrist, but he slaps you away.

A throbbing sensation pounds at your core, a feeling you know all too well. You hate it. You hate it so much you just wanna slap him. You've fallen into his trap.

But at the same time, you need him. You need him so bad it's embarrassing.

His hand reaches your panties, and you can't help but grab onto the counter behind you, looking down at where his hand is in your shorts. "Look at me," he says roughly, the hand not teasing at your panties coming up to grab your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

A soft, whiney breath escapes your open mouth once his two middle fingers press against your needy clit. "Yeah, bitchy girl likes that, doesn't she?" Slowly, his fingers begin to massage your clit through your panties, looking into your eyes.

You can't nod, you can't let him know he's right. But even without flat-out telling him yes, he still knows. He can tell by the way your hips buck against his hand, the way you softly moan, and the way your mouth falls open at the smallest movement.

"Doesn't she?" His voice comes out rough, startling you. His finger hooks under the side of your panties. "If you say no, I'll let you go to bed," he slowly moves the fabric to the side. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear "if you say yes, I'll give you what you want. Spoil you. Give you something you don't deserve."

His voice sends a shiver up your spine, freezing you in place. He slots his fingers between your folds, just barely brushing against your clit, eliciting an embarrassing whine. He has his answer. He knows. He just wants to hear it.

"Sam," you start with the intention to protest, but quickly realize it's no good once he circles your entrance with his middle finger. "Oh fuck," you struggle to keep your voice a whisper.

It takes you a moment to collect your words and put them into a proper sentence. "Yes," you start, but the tip of his finger just slightly slipping into your entrance interrupts you. It doesn't take long for you to realize that you're not gonna be able to get that sentence out, watching as a smirk grows on his stupid face and his eyes become unbelievably dark.

"Good girl," Sam purrs into your ear, leaning even closer and taking the shell of it between his teeth. That alone could make you whine, so when he shoves his two middle fingers into you, a cry flies past your lips.

His brows furrow and the hand not toying with you clamps over your mouth. His fingers curl harshly up into you before he slides the digits out of you and brings them up to his lips. That pounding at your core grows even worse as you watch him take the fingers into his mouth, licking up your juices and releasing them from his mouth with a pop.

The hand over your mouth moves to be prying your jaw open, shoving his fingers into your mouth. He closes your mouth around the digits, forcing you to taste the mix of your juices and his saliva and you start to gag on his fingers as he shoves them further and further into your mouth.

By the time he finally takes them out of your mouth, you're practically gasping for air, the tips of his fingers keep your tongue sticking out of your mouth. To your surprise, he leans in, his mouth incredibly close to yours for a moment before he sticks his tongue out and licks yours.

You suck in a loud gasp at the action, and you hate yourself for how much you enjoyed it. He hums, dropping his hands to the small of your back, licking along your jawline and sucking a the soft flesh into his mouth. "S- Sam," you whine, trying to push him away but to no avail.

"Don't do that," you push again, your brows knitting together. The last thing you want is to wake up with ugly purple splotches covering your neck. He simply huffs a laugh and you feel him smile against your skin before he takes the flesh between his teeth.

He lifts that same hand up back to your mouth and once again practically shoves his fingers down your throat. You let out a cry of surprise, your eyes growing comically large as you realize how loud it was.

Before you can even blink, Sam takes his fingers out of your mouth, raising his hand up and letting it come down against your cheek. You try to stifle the yelp that threatens to spill past your lips, but you're not very successful. The stinging sensation that follows hurts so good.

His wet fingers squeeze your cheeks and he leans in, his face mere centimeters from yours. "Y/N, you make one more noise, and I'm taping your mouth shut. Got it?" His dark, lust blown eyes stare so intensely into yours that you just want to curl up into a ball and shrink in size.

He lets go of your cheeks and you frantically nod your head. A smirk grows on his lips at your response, his hand slowly making it's way down your torso till it reaches the waistband of your shorts. He uses his thumb to pull the band, creating an opening for his fingers to meet your core.

His other hand comes back up to your mouth, and you whine against his palm at the pressure. Thank God for his hand, because the whimper that slips past your lips once his fingers reach your core could've easily woken anybody near. He's staring into your eyes, but his gaze narrows and his brows furrow in annoyance at every single squeak you fail to hide.

He spreads your arousal around your folds, bringing it up to your clit and drawing small circles over the needy bud. Your hand flies to his wrist, digging your nails into the soft flesh as his fingers speed up against your clit. Every time your eyes wander off or your eyelids start to flutter shut, he forces you to keep your eyes on him.

So many emotions rush through you. Anger. Annoyance. Lust. Frustration. Desire. He's driving you crazy, and he loves it. Every single whine you let out, every time you squeeze him, every time your knees threaten to buckle, puts a smile on his stupid smug face.

He hates you. You hate him. For some sick reason it intensifies your desire for him more than words could ever explain. And he'd be a complete and utter liar if he said he didn't feel the same.

You hate it so much you could cry, but at the same time you can't get enough. You couldn't be able to walk away if you wanted to. He's too alluring. His body is like a magnet.

Your eyes roll back into your head, involuntarily bucking your hips against his hand. Sam lets out a low chuckle at your reaction and presses against your clit. "Yeah, that's right. Feel my fingers. They feel good, huh little slut?" He comes down to your neck, biting the flesh as his fingers speed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You frantically nod your head, grinding against his fingers. Those skilled hands of his work deliciously over your poor sensitive clit and your whines against his hand grow louder. You don't know how much longer you can go before you're sent hurdling over the edge.

A pressure builds right below your belly button and its getting harder and harder to keep your voice down. Even muffled by his hand you're still embarrassingly loud. Your knees buckle and your thighs tremble, his fingers show no mercy for your bundle of nerves as he hums against your neck.

It's just his fingers, but they're so skilled. So incredibly experienced. You throw your head back, mumbling profanities against his hand, ultimately coming out inaudible. As your pleasure intensifies, so does his pace. So does his pressure against the sweet sensitive bud.

"Yeah that's it, cum for me doll," his fingers move from your clit and effortlessly slide into your entrance, flicking against a soft spot. His hand around your mouth forces your head up to look at him. Your eyes widen and you let out an incredibly loud whimper against his hand as that band of pleasure snaps.

"Such a good little whore," he comes down to whisper against your neck, and you feel his shoulders bounce. He's giggling. His fingers don't slow down, and his thumb starts to play with your clit.

You violently shake your head against his hand, your eyes wide as you fight against him. Despite your efforts, he doesn't stop. In fact, he speeds up. Your eyes prick with tears and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

The hand that was covering your mouth slowly slides down your body, stopping at your navel "take your shirt off." Your brows knit together and your eyes flick to the direction of Daniel's room, but you do as he says. Slowly, you lift the hem of your shirt, hooking your fingers under your bra as you go. Sam's eyes study every second. Every inch of your torso. He watches carefully as you lift the thin fabric over your head and it drops to the floor.

His hand is still toying with your cunt, the other starting to slowly pull down your shorts and panties. As your clothes go lower down your body, so do his kisses. His lips start at your belly button, then slowly move down till they're right at your slit.

Now you're completely exposed. Daniel could walk in at any second and see you and Sam like this. For some reason, the thought goes straight to your cunt, turning you on even more.

His breath is warm against your heat, fueling the fire inside of you. Suddenly, a yelp slips out of your mouth once his tongue finds your clit. His dark eyes angrily flick up to yours and you clamp your own hand over your mouth.

His tongue dances so delicately around your folds, tasting you as if you're the sweetest honey he's ever had. Your entire body shudders, the feeling of his sweet tongue over your overstimulated clit sends shocks of electricity through your body.

His fingers move in sync with his tongue, his other hand squeezing your thigh. Your thighs are trembling and shaking at an immense speed, your knees threatening to completely give out. You're already there. His fingers curl up into a sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. You've gotten over the overstimulation, now you're falling over the edge.

You let out a cry against your hand as your orgasm clouds your head for the second time in a row. Sam withdrawals his fingers from you just in time, because suddenly your legs give out from underneath you and you're collapsing in his lap.

He lets you sit there for just long enough to find your composure before he's forcing you both up. Once he's on his feet, he grabs your hair in a bundle and pulls you up to meet him.

A surprised whimper falls past your lips once he spins you around so that your back is flush to his chest. One arm wraps around your body at your bust, the other holds your ass firm against his body. "Feel that?" His low voice sends a shiver up your spine as he whispers into your ear. "Feel my cock against your pretty little ass?" He presses harder against you.

"This little problem," he growls "do you have any idea how annoying it is?" He wiggles his hips against you, and you feel that pounding return to your core. "Now you're gonna help me fix it. You're gonna take every inch of my cock like the little slut you are."

You don't try to hide the soft, breathy moan that falls past your lips at his words. Your entire body becomes flushed a deep red color, so intense to the point that it starts to give you a headache. Without warning, he's sweeping you off your feet and carrying you off to his room, your clothes still on the kitchen floor.

Everything happens in mere seconds. He's practically running to his room, sending the door flying open and throwing you on the bed. He eagerly climbs on top of you, marveling at your naked body. He leaves a trace of kisses down torso, sucking the skin of your hip into his mouth.

He gets up, frantically closing and locking the door. He turns back to you, sliding his boxers down his legs, his cock springing free. He tossed the fabric off from around his feet and takes himself in his hand. The sight drives you mad. His long, hard cock in his large hand. Just so eager to feel you. Begging for pleasure. You can see every vein, even from where you are. He's so turned on it's unbelievable.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on the flesh at the sight of him. His brows are furrowed as he stares at you, his large hand starting to slowly pump his length. It takes everything in you to not give in and touch yourself, the pounding at your core has become so incredibly unbearable just the slightest touch would break you.

Silently, he walks to you, his angry pink tip dripping with precum. "Sit up," he demands, still stroking himself at such a slow pace that it makes you wince. You do just as he says, not even bothering to think about how desperate you probably look.

Sam slowly crawls onto the bed, moving up so that his knees are on each side of your thighs and you're face to face with his cock. He doesn't even give a warning or anything before he grabs your hair in a bundle and forces your mouth onto him. You're just lucky he didn't force his entire length down your throat.

You quickly adjust to his thickness and start to glide your tongue along his cock, his hand guiding you. Sam lets out a breathy noise and his grip on your hair tightens once you start to speed up. "Fuck- that's it, Y/N," he mutters, feeling your mouth as you suck harder around his cock.

His hips start to buck forward, making his cock tickle the very back of your throat. You take him as far into your mouth as you possibly can, your eyes filling with tears at every thrust of his hips. You pull back, wrapping your hand around his cock, squeezing him tight as you start to lap at his slit. His head falls back and strings of profanities escape his plump pink lips, you know he won't last much longer like this.

The hand around his cock starts to stroke along his length, not once loosening your grip as you tease his angry tip. "Oh fuck-" he blurts, his voice rough and his hips jutting forward at the sensation. His hands tug harshly at your hair, and you use it as encouragement, every pull of your hair you reward, sucking harder or stroking faster.

It's almost humorous how fast you drive him to the edge, every profanity in the dictionary is flying past his lips and he's bringing you to tears with how hard he's pulling your hair. Suddenly, he forces your hand off of him and grasps the back of your head, practically shoving his cock down your throat. He thrusts once, and that's all it takes for his hot release to spurt into the back of your throat.

For a few moments, he keeps you there, forcing you to swallow every last drop of him. "Shit-" he speaks, out of breath. "Where'd you learn that?" He removes himself from you, but he doesn't give you enough time to answer before he's forcing you around onto your stomach. His calloused fingertips grab at the supple flesh at the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open.

A loud, surprised moan escapes your lips as his fingers just barely touch your cunt. He collects your arousal on his fingertips, spreading it around your core. "Jesus Christ," he groans "you're so fucking wet." The pillows stifle the moans and whimpers that you make at the slight touch.

"So fucking horny," His fingers start to massage your clit, but before you can even begin to enjoy it, he moves his hand to slap your ass, eliciting a loud yelp. "So needy. Wouldn't wanna have to make you beg for it, would I?" he comes down, and you gasp as he starts to place open mouth kisses to your ass, his tongue lapping at the red skin.

"Please, Sam," you practically cry into the sheets, clawing the fabric. He simply just snickers at your plead, continuing to kiss everywhere but the area you need him to touch the most.

"Sam," you whine, but he's just ignoring you. "Sam Kiszka I swear to fucking god," you say harshly, moving your head so that he can hear you clearly. You feel him huff a laugh against your inner thigh, "fine. If you want it so bad." You let out a sigh, a little squeak following it once his tongue reaches your core.

He circles your entrance with his tongue, the very tip of it prodding you. He repeats this until you're a sweaty mess, your hair clung to your neck, your thighs shaking from trying to create any sort of friction, and your hands grasping onto the sheets for dear life. You can't form a sentence, every word you try to speak just comes out as a squeaky whimper and you can tell he's enjoying this 10x more than you.

You let out a squeaky sigh once he pulls back, and he brings his cock to your entrance. He slides his tip through your core, groaning as he feels the wetness of your folds around him. Pathetic moans roll off your tongue and you try to clamp your thighs around his lower body, but he slaps the back of your thigh and pries your legs apart.

A loud, whiney cry rips through your chest as he sinks into you, and the sting of his cock stretching you out without warning robs you of any self respect you had left. "Oh- fuck," Sam groans, bottoming out inside you and staying there for a moment. You claw at the sheets, a yelp escaping your mouth once he starts to mercilessly thrust into you.

One deep and intoxicating thrust, then another, then another until he's worked up the perfect pace that drives you mad. "Oh Sam- fuck," you cry, arching your back into the bed. "Shit, Y/N," Sam mutters, having to practically rip your hands off the sheets to hold them behind your back.

You cry his name at a particularly sharp thrust, and curse yourself for how much you're enjoying it. He feels too good, you hate it. You hate the fact that you're just like every other girl he's hooked up with. But most of all, you hate the fact that you denied him for so long. Forced down those dirty thoughts that would surface in your mind about him. "Yeah, feels good doesn't it, little slut?" He punctuates his words with sharp movements.

You fail at trying to form a sentence. Every time you open your mouth, a pathetic moan falls past your swollen red lips. You hear him snicker behind you, and the hand not firmly holding your hands behind your back moves to your ass. He grabs at the supple flesh, kneading it in his hands as he fucks his anger out on you.

"yes," you cry out "so fucking good, Sam." You know Daniel can absolutely hear, but you're past the point of caring. "I've seen the way you look at me. You try to act like you don't touch yourself thinking of me but really, you're just as bad as the rest of them. Just dying to let me use you like the little whore you know you are." Sam starts to go even deeper, as if that was even possible, his tip is all but brushing against your cervix. And oh how he's so right.

"holy fucking-" you're on the verge of screaming, tears pricking your waterline once again. "God, who would've known you're so filthy?" You hear the grin in his voice, and his hand grasps your ass so hard you're sure you'll wake up to bruises. "I mean, really. Letting me use you like this. Cumming all over my hands in the kitchen," He breathes, and you can tell he's struggling to keep a steady voice and form coherent sentences of his own.

"You know, Daniel could've walked in at any time. Saw you acting like the little fucking whore you are for me," he sends a sharp thrust into you, hitting a part of you that you didn't even know someone could reach. "But I bet that just turned you on even more, huh? The thought of being so exposed in there just made you cum so hard, didn't it?" With every single word comes a rough movement of his hips, and you can't see him, but you know theres a stupid smirk playing on his face.

"Sam I- I'm gonna," you whine, clawing at his wrist. "Yeah? Little slut gonna cum?" He snickers, his pace slowing down, his thrusts becoming slower as he sinks completely into to, hitting every sweet spot known to woman kind. "Yes. Yes yes," you bite the sheets, your nails still digging into his wrists.

Your cries and moans grow unbelievably loud, intensifying with each movement. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Sam grabs your hips, lifting them up off the bed so that your ass is in the air. With one final thrust, you're coming undone. Completely unraveling beneath him. "Fuck fuck fuck," you moan, burning white flames of pleasure dancing viciously around your tummy.

Sam almost immediately pulls out, your juices dripping down your sweaty thigh. He drops your hips and you fall back down on the bed, softly moaning and whimpering as you come down from the high.

A surprised whimper slips past your lips once he grabs you by your waist and flips you around "don't think for a second that I'm done with you." He grabs you by your waist, picking you up and throwing you against the arm rest of the sofa chair you walked in on him in.

It's as if you regained consciousness because right before you hit the furniture, you brace your arms against the other side of the sofa, catching yourself. "Sam what are you-" you start, but he cuts you off. "I'm gonna make you cum as many times as I want, sweetheart," he grabs his cock, pumping slowly a few times.

"Sam I don't know if I can.." you whine, but this just makes him snicker. He ignores you, and you yelp once he thrusts into you. He doesn't wait. Doesn't give you a moment, he just starts fucking into you. He sets an intoxicating pace almost immediately, you're completely drunk off of his cock.

You repeat his name over and over like a mantra, your moans growing louder and louder with each thrust. His cock rams into you, and Sam's making sure he's going as deep into you as he possibly can. "Shit. You're so fucking-" Sam groans, but he doesn't finish his sentence. He bends over, his chin resting against your bare back and he takes the sweaty flesh between his teeth.

You claw the fabric of the sofa, the lewd sounds of your skin snapping together and your sexes mixing fill the humid air, not to mention the volume of which you're screaming his name. "So fucking dirty," he speaks breathlessly between thrusts "taking my cock like such a good girl."

He stands up again, and your forehead practically slams against the furniture. "Oh fuck me-" you cry, pushing yourself back onto his cock with shaky legs. "But you're so fucking far from that. You're the filthiest little bitch I've ever been with," he roughly thrusts into you after every single word, it's unbelievable how much stamina this man has.

"At least I know how to shut you up now," His hand wraps around your body till it finds your dripping cunt, and elicits a loud yelp once his fingers start to dance over your swollen, oversensitive cit.

"Y'know, I oughta spank you," he groans "dirty little slut." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the feeling of his skilled fingers working your clit mixed with his cock burying itself deep into your cunt over and over drives you right to the edge. If its even possible, the roaring fire in your tummy intensifies even more.

That same fire burns at the coil of pleasure pulled tightly until it snaps in two, white electricity flowing through your limbs. Despite the fact that every inch of you is trembling and you're overstimulated to the point of tears, you still clamp around his cock, determined to beat him.

"The fuck are you doing?" He slaps your ass and pulls out in one quick motion. Your body goes limp and suddenly, you lose your train of thought. Your words fail you "I- I..." Sam stops you, grabbing you by your torso and flipping you around. "I'll cum when i decide it's time," he speaks lowly, taking your lips in a sloppy, humid kiss before dropping you into the seat.

He hasn't given you any time to cool off, he's already staring down at you with those eyes and stroking his length. "Sam I-" you stutter "Sam I don't know if I can. do another one." You knew you weren't getting out of this one, but the amused look on his face pisses you off.

"It's not that I don't want it I just-" you say rather bitterly, cutting yourself off once you become conscious of the fact that you're almost completely out of breath. "Don't worry, darling. I'll be more gentle this time," he smirks.

You take a deep breath and nod, bringing your legs up to rest on each side of the sofa. His eyes widen at your glistening core, but soon relax as a grin starts to grow on his face. He leans down, breathing heavily on your neck and taking your earlobe in between his teeth. "I still hate your fucking guts," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine.

You let out a breath at the words and reach down to grab his cock, and you start to swirl your hand around his hard length. He nips at your ear again before slapping your hand away, grabbing his cock and dragging it through your soaked folds.

Your head falls back and you grab his arm as his tip starts to tease your clit. "Sam.. please," you whine, arching your back off the arch. He moves himself to like up with your entrance, his tip just barely sinking in. Just that alone elicits whiney moans from you, so when he sinks fully into you a loud cry flies past your lips.

He almost pulls completely out before thrusting back into you, the sensation making your eyes roll back into your head. "This slutty little pussy feels so.." Sam breathes, setting the perfect rhythm. Your hands slowly snake up his body, the tips of your fingers reaching his collarbones, then moving up to the base of his neck.

His deep, slow thrusts are addictive and perfect, but you quickly realize they aren't gonna cut it. You crave more. You need more. Gentle Sam can wait for another time. "Sam... Harder."

Your hands gently wrap around his neck, squeezing slightly as his pace starts to pick up. So much for being gentle. Sam's fingers find your clit, ever so slightly putting pressure on the sensitive bud. "Look at you. Asking for more after complaining about having to fuck me again," Sam purrs, rolling his hips up into you.

"Oh fuck- right there Sam," you mewl. Every inch of your body is trembling and within minutes you're riding the edge of euphoria. "How does it feel, baby?" Sam finds a particularly sensitive spot that elicits the loudest moans and babies it, and his hand that's toying with your clit speeds up. "So fucking good," you whine, your back fully arched off the sofa.

Your moans and cries and mewls grow louder, you're not gonna last much longer. Sam's free hand presses down on your lower tummy, intensifying your pleasure. "Is my little slut close? You gonna cum, baby?" His narrow eyes staring deeply into yours.

"Fuck Sam im-" a guttural moan ripping through your chest cuts you off, and suddenly your vision blurs, your mind fogs, and burning hot white flames of pleasure flow through your limbs. "Oh shit- fuck," Sam grunts, and within seconds his hot release is spurting inside you. Warm ropes of ivory release paint your insides, the feeling making you roll your eyes back into your skull.

His thrusts and fingers slow down but don't stop, helping both you and him ride out the high. Your hands release his neck and drop to your side, the two of you stay just how you are for a while, the sounds of your heavy breathing and occasional whimpers filling the humid air.

"You know. I'm not the little slut you think I am," you roll your eyes. "Well, you certainly fuck like one. I mean, look at you," he looks down at you, and you hate to admit it but you do look filthy. Your legs are as far open as they can go and his cock is covered in your release as he slowly pulls out, juices dripping down your ass.

Your cheeks go a bright shade of red and you look down at the area "Whatever." His fingers collect the release, bringing it up to your mouth and once again forcing you to taste both yourself and him. You moan against his fingers at the taste, a smirk growing on his lips.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop before he licks up your saliva and the rest of the juices. Sam walks off and you hear his feet pad across the kitchen, coming back with your clothes. He drops them on the floor, walking right past you to the bathroom.

He stops, realizing you're not following him "You wanna clean up or what? C'mon."

[ventismacchiato]

40 behind the lens — paper rings !

scaramouche x g!n reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ time skip of three years ࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ you and kuni graduate at the top of your respected classes and have been dating for almost five years now, known properly as the campus it couple

✰ neither of you moved in together until last year when everyone else started moving out of the shared content houses

✰ first xiaoae move out together, then childe, then heikazu, albenari, then ayaka going back home and venti living on his own

✰ living in the houses on your own was essentially a waste of money and space so jean ended your leases and you guys finally moved in together

✰ and after graduation, with jean’s help, you’re able to slide into the industry pretty easily with your large fanbases

✰ you start off as side characters that grow in popularity since your fans watch the shows and movies you star in just for you both

✰ i like to think kuni double majored in child psych along with film in case acting didn’t work out in his favor so he’s pretty and smart

✰ but since this is fiction it did work out for him cus dreams come true #livelaughlove

✰ id like to think star/you would also act but probably dials it down to direct full time instead

✰ you preferred to direct compared to acting so eventually you started to fund your own projects with kuni on your cast which helped you grow

✰ you try not to cast kuni in every one of your movies because then it’ll look like favoritism but he prefers to star in ones you direct

✰ you also get your friends to be extras a lot, most of the time it’s childe who begs you to let him be in the back for movies

✰ you guys probably don’t get engaged for a while despite living together, blaming it on scara’s commitment issues and the fact that your careers are your main focus

✰ alongside luna, your previous black cat, you probably adopt another white one alongside scara

✰ as for actor!scara headcanons imagine scara on hot ones, that one show on youtube, and he has a straight face the entire time as he eats the hottest wings and answers questions about you

✰i think he’d have a lot of fun on shows like that, example would be eat it or spill it by jimmy fallon, he would annihilate them

✰ he probably does all his own stunts, always giving you a heart attack as you see him falling from heights on harnesses, sometimes he convinces the staff to fool you into thinking he actually got hurt due to a broken rope as he plummets to the ground

✰ he does it so much that there’s enough content for ‘scara pretending to die in front of yn for ten minutes straight’ compilations

✰ you guys probably stream when you can but not as much with your jobs, i think star doing behind the scenes vlogs of you and scara together would be so cute though

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ was a communications major so he’s the PR manager for scara and you after graduating

✰ yes i know technically jean could do this but she has enough on her plate! i’m just thoughtful like that #feminist

✰ constantly trying to prevent you guys from getting into scandals, which is hard when scara cannot keep his opinions to himself

✰ aether probably has a heart attack everytime scara goes off to do interviews since scara always ignores the pre written answers and goes on tangents, which his fans love but twitter not so much

✰ xiao as an animator wud be so sexy guys. like walk with me here imagine an operation true love anime after the drama and webtoon are a hit so he gets to animate for the anime and storyboards with albedo

✰ i’m tryna intertwine all of them even after they graduate can you tell

✰ as for him and aether they probably tie the knot a little while after graduating, small wedding with just close friends and family

✰ xiao would edit one of those pretty wedding videos that youtubers do

✰ but they don’t film the entire wedding for their channels cus they gotta gatekeep

✰ id say xiao probably still streams but he mainly just draws with music in the background or works on his stardew town with aether

✰ xiao probably strains his wrist a lot from all the work he does so at promotion events he’s always wearing a brace on his hand

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ okay in this au let’s all pretend he’s the creator of operation true love cus rmbr he’s a writing major and a huge romantic

✰ like how sexy is that, obviously it does well cus all his fans all read it and so it gets turned into a drama

✰ directed by you of course starring kuni as eunhyuk

✰ he’s still head over heels and throwing up in love with heizou, they probably adopt a cat together when they move in together

✰ i imagine if kazuha ever wrote a murder mystery novel he’d have heizou read it to decipher if the culprit was too easy to figure out

✰ nothing really exciting about heizou’s major in this au, he probably just becomes a detective and streams on the side, known as kazuha’s partner in the entertainment industry and attends all the events when he can

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ obviously goes into the art industry, works on a lot of graphic novels and novel covers and sometimes album covers

✰ when kazuha’s work gets turned into mangas or graphic novels he always does the art for it

✰ he probably paints nari’s favorite flowers for him and they adorn their house’s walls

✰ i’d say he doesn’t stream as much anymore but if he does it’s probably just him doing commissions with music in the background

✰ nari’s major is also not exciting in this au, probably becomes a forest ranger or a college professor

✰ albedo builds him a greenhouse in the back of their house for him

✰ the type to bring hurt animals home and fosters them back to health

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

childe

✰ stealing from my pookie mrbeast for inspo

✰ he probably does stuff like has a whole business for his videos and side hustles like merch and a food company

✰ like maybe he and diluc collab to make an energy drink or something

✰i mentioned he fancies diluc like once in a previous chapter so that’s why he’s with diluc who streams a little

✰ they probably met properly at another twitch con or creator event

✰ very wow factor oriented like he does more than just stream games, he prefers to work on big challenge videos and loves giving away money

✰ like he would host those extreme hide-and-seek challenges with all his youtuber/streamer friends in weird locations and get them to do weird dares with him

✰ i think heizou would win those types of videos most of the time, whereas scara barely tries and still seems to almost win

✰ diluc probably does one stream a month because it’s not his entire focus, probably also a business major and just appears in childe’s videos once in a while

✰ how cute would it be if childe was always at his 110% in videos and extra hyper to make them more entertaining but when diluc joins him he’s more calm and cute

venti

✰ his streaming fanbase gives him a jumpstart in his music career yk how it is

✰ does a bunch of osts for shows and movies. still streams but also is a popular musician

✰ not an idol 😍🤞 has to be a little different than jptp but does start out by opening for tours and makes it on billboard

✰ i do think he’d eventually do a world tour though on his own and stray away from streaming to focus on his music, would probably just upload vlogs if anything

✰ does the operation true love ost so everyone is working tgt and he’s single in this au cus #singlerep

ayaka

✰ honestly i don’t care what happens to ayaka she’s just there ig

✰ keep doing what ur doing queen! i’ll support you from all the way over here!

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

yes i’m using yeonjun as scaras face 🤞

also sorry if this isn’t as in depth as the jptp one i’m just tryna wrap this fic up ☠️

author’s notes — just like jptp i just wanted to do a bunch of headcanons :] this is how i envision their future and if u don’t agree talk to the wall cus idc 😊

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]

[ironstrange1991]

Movie Night

Paring: Defender!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen's work on a Friday night leaves you upset, but choosing the right movie can change everything and save the night.

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: Small argument and provocation. SMUT: Fingering, umprotected p in v sex, creampie.

A/N: It took me two months to finish this fic and this shows how hard authors block had hit me, but I'm happy to finally have something to post. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading :)

Movie nights are sacred to you and Stephen knows this very well, yet there he was locked in the meeting room with the Defenders ironing out the final details for the next mission. You shouldn't be mad about the situation because this time Stephen wouldn't participate, on the contrary, he would take the next few days to slow down and spend some time with you. So, it was acceptable for him to waste a few minutes of your Friday night since you’ll have a lot of time to spend together, but it wasn't any less annoying and tonight you didn't want to be understanding. Not at all.

When he finally left the meeting room, you were sitting crisscrossed on the couch, TV control in hand, choosing something to watch alone. You didn't bother to say hi or good night to his friends and they didn't even dare say anything to you because they knew you were mad.

As if that wasn't enough, Stephen still stood for ten minutes talking by the door until finally the Defenders left and he returned to the living room.

"You might as well invite them to live here with you." You snorted. Irritation appearing in the way you distilled each word. "I mean, since they're here all the fucking time and you're always willing to devote all your damn time to them, it would be so much easier and more practical if they didn't even have to leave, wouldn't it?"

Stephen didn't respond, he knew better than to talk back to you when you were angry.

Instead, he walked up behind the couch and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and placing a small kiss on your skin. You felt your entire body tingling with the sensation, but you didn't show any reaction.

"I'm going to take a shower, do you want to come with me?" He asked in your ear, completely ignoring your attempt to start a fight and making a point of rubbing his beard on your neck in an attempt to disarm you.

"In case you haven't noticed, I've already taken a shower, Stephen. I've also had dinner, alone by the way, but you could have called your friends to accompany you. You missed a great opportunity."

He sighed, clearly frustrated, but walked away without saying anything. You knew you were being childish, you knew very well that Stephen did as much as he could to spend more time with you, but sometimes you wanted to ignore everything you knew and focus on the fact that he spent more time with his friends than with you.

You took a long time to choose what to watch and when Stephen came back you were lying on the couch, covered by a fluffy blanket. The night was particularly cold even with the heater on. The first few minutes of the film you had finally chosen were playing on the TV.

"Did you really start without me?" He complained, patting your leg so you would give him a seat.

To be honest, you didn't think he would come down to watch the movie with you after the way you spoke to him, but Defender hated arguments and would do anything to make sure you didn't get into arguments. However, you didn't want to give in.

"Don't make me start, Stephen." You said moving forward and giving him space to lie down behind you. Even though he knew you were angry, he made a point of placing his arm so you could rest your head and wrapped the other around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. He was always so comfortably warm and the delicious smell of his conditioner managed to soften you - just a little - so you explained.

"The movie just started, you didn't miss anything."

He hummed giving you a small kiss on the shoulder "What is it about?"

You shrugged "It's a thriller. It's called Killing me softly. I chose it by the name actually."

"Um" He said snuggling and cupping your hand with his, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I'm not going anywhere in the morning, okay? I'll be all yours."

You sighed but didn't respond, choosing to pay attention to the scenes in front of you that were quickly becoming interesting. Really interesting.

The protagonist had met a stranger on the street - of course the stranger was sexy and mysterious - and had the brilliant idea of ​​going to his house and the scene quickly escalated into a sex scene like those that you would be embarrassed to death if you were watching with your parents, but as you were watching with your husband, the situation was very different.

You've never been one to watch porn, contrary to what should happen, the explicit sex and the constant fake moaning on screen used to be a turn off for you, but the subtlety of sex scenes in Hollywood films used to work much better and you already could feel your body reacting to the images in front of you and the fact that you were cuddling with your man who happened to be so warm and smelling so good and that was definitely sexier than the actor in the movie didn't help much.

The scene ended and then another began and soon after another, and you were surprised by your husband's baritone voice in your ear.

"I think I like this movie." He said, pressing a very obvious erection against your ass and you felt your face blush, but you didn't have time to react because he started to place kisses on your neck, brushing his beard against your skin and his hand let go of yours to sneak inside your blouse and feel your breasts while he pressed his hard on against you again.

By now you weren't exactly paying attention to the movie in front of you, your body was responding to him in all the right ways and the next thing you knew you were pressing your thighs together.

"I thought you were mad at me, but then you chose this movie..." He rasped and bit your earlobe and you felt your entire body tremble.

"I'm mad at you and I didn't know it was this kind of movie." You explained yourself.

He gave you several kisses on your neck and then licked your ear, biting it again and started to grind his erection on your ass without any shame.

"Hm, I guess I'll need to do something to change that then." He pinched your nipple lightly and then lowered his hand into your pajama shorts, caressing your pussy covered in the fabric of your panties, which at that point was completely wet.

An involuntary moan escaped your lips and you gave in to the desire growing quickly inside you, bucking up your hips against his hand for his delight.

"You're so wet baby, is this because of the movie or because of me?"

You bit your lip when his hand reached inside your panties and his trembling fingers circled your clit.

"It's you." You responded amidst groans.

A succession of dialogue scenes that you weren't paying the slightest attention to gave way to another sex scene and your hand searched for Stephen, reaching inside his sweatpants and delighting in the fact that he wasn't wearing underwear. You grabbed his cock and started pumping it up and down slowly which made him moan right in your ear and your whole body tingled.

The moans coming from the TV got louder and Stephen increased the pace of his fingers on your clit and whispered in your ear.

"Do you like the way he does it?" He asked referring to the character in the film.

"Y-yes."

"Do you want me to fuck you like that?"

You moaned loudly when he finally entered you with his fingers, but you needed so much more than his fingers.

"Yes, please." You finally responded.

"Will this make up for the hours I spent in meetings with my friends?" He teased. "You can't be mad at me anymore."

 You nodded in agreement and closed your eyes, indulging in the pleasure his fingers provided going in and out of you.

Stephen sat down and you turned around, laying on your back, your legs hanging open for him to do whatever he wanted with you.

He took his hands to the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties and pulled them off quickly and discarded them on the floor. He had a smug little smile on his lips that wasn't very common for him, but you were too caught up in the pursuit of your pleasure to care.

He stood up for a second and took off his pants and t-shirt, completely undressing for you and knelt between your legs, touching you again, rubbing your clit in circles with two trembling fingers while pumping his delicious hard cock with his other hand.

"You're so beautiful" You murmured between moans as you grabbed your tits, pinching your own nipples and delighting in the pleasure that his fingers gave you. "It's so unfair"

Stephen chuckled collecting your slick with his fingers and spreading it on his cock which by now was rock hard and pulsing in his hand, he gave a couple of jerks and rubbed his tip on your slit teasing you.

"Baby... please don't tease. N-need you."

"Yeah? But you were so mad at me a few minutes ago. What changed?"

He placed the tip at your entrance, but didn't force it in and held your hips down when you threatened to lift them up.

"Come on baby, tell me."

You bit your bottom lip holding back a moan and admitted "I was only mad because I was jealous. Because you weren't paying attention to me."

He sighed heavily, forcing his cock and letting it stretch you slowly and allowing himself a moan of his own.

"And that's why you were so mean? Saying those things to me. Do you think I deserve to be treated like that?"

You knew very well that he was playing games with you, but you didn't care, you needed him inside you, you would say anything, do anything he wanted you to do.

"I'm sorry, baby, please, need you. I am so fucking horny. Please fuck me... punish me."

That completely disarmed him and you could feel his cock throbbing just from your words and you knew he liked the idea. "I was mean to you and you don't deserve it. You're such a good husband."

Stephen entered you with a hard thrust making you squirm with the delicious stretch. That man was so fucking big.

He held both of your knees to keep your legs spread wide for him and began to move slowly at first, keeping his eyes fixed on where the two of you joined together. "So fucking beautiful." He moaned and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation. "Pussy looks so fucking beautiful taking my cock. Promise me you won't get mad at me again because of work. You know I do everything I can to be with you. I love you so much, baby."

You moaned loudly, feeling him go even deeper when he leaned forward laying on top of you, holding his weight with just his forearms. You cupped his face with both hands.

"I promise. I love you so much, Stephen..." You kissed him hard and kept kissing him while begging. "Need you by my side... all the time, need you so much... oh god please... fuck me, punish me, do whatever the fuck you want to me... I just want it so badly."

Stephen rested his hands on the arm of the sofa and began to thrust hard, each thrust harder and faster than the next. You wrapped your arms around him and your nails dug deep into the flesh of his back as you locked your legs around his hips, letting yourself be dominated by him. Your hands went down to his ass, pulling him against you, wanting him to enter you completely. Somehow you knew it would never be enough, you would always want more of him.

Stephen searched for your lips and kissed you again, this time harder, his breathing quickly becoming ragged and you could feel him pulsing inside you.

"Oh my god Stephen... feels so good baby, cock fucking me so good."

He moaned, lowering his lips to your neck and giving small kisses and bites there, his breathing and baritone voice making your whole body tingle.

"And you're taking me so fucking good. You always take it so good. I know you love my cock, tell me how much you love it."

"So much... so so much" You almost purred the words as you tightened your arms around him. "Love you... so much"

He kissed you and you could see him trying hard not to cum yet. He stopped and tapped your thigh for you to unlock your legs around him and pulled out asking gently.

"Turn around baby. Get on your hands and knees for me."

You smiled, quickly obeying him and positioning yourself on all fours for him. Defender didn't usually take control like that, but oh you loved it when he did. In fact, you doubted there was anything your husband could do that you didn't love.

You felt his hands squeezing your waist and positioning your ass the way he wantedyou’re your surprise he kissed one of your cheeks and lightly patted the other. "And you wonder why I love you so much, baby... How could I not love such a sweet, perfect little thing like you?"

You moaned softly at just the words and felt the tip of his cock rubbing against your folds. Teasing you. He positioned it at your entrance and forced it slowly, but not enough to penetrate you the way you needed and you whimpered.

"Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how much you need me."

"More than anything. I need you more than anything. That's why I was so mad, because I wanted you to pay attention to me."

He entered you with a single strong, deep thrust and he moaned loudly.

"Now I'm all your, baby. Enjoy it. I know you love my cock, take it. It's yours."

You moaned when he started thrusting hard and fast. You were definitely not used to Stephen fucking you like that, but you loved the intensity, the way his body forced itself against you, how little by little he lost himself in his own pleasure, placing more and more of the weight of his body on you. You loved being in control, but it was undeniable that being dominated by him was extremely satisfying.

He used one of his hands to hold your shoulder, putting more force into his thrusts, his moans became increasingly louder and more obscene and you loved the sound of them, you loved having Stephen like that.

"Fuck baby, tell me your close, I can't hold back much longer..."

You could feel his cock throbbing inside you and the knot deep in your belly threatening to break.

"Yes, Stephen, please. I am so close. Fuck me harder. Make me cum."

As if possible, Stephen increased the strength of his thrusts, you were both panting and it didn't take long for the two of you to reach the limit together.

Stephen tightened his grip on your shoulder and waist and forced himself against you, emptying himself. "That's it baby. That's what you wanted so much, right? Take it."

He groaned, totally lost in his own release and your legs shook with the intensity of the thrusts and your insides exploded in an orgasm so strong that your entire body began to shake.

Stephen pulled out and allowed you to turn around and flop onto the couch completely undone. He conjured a cloth and gently cleaned you in silence and then cleaned himself as best he could and disappeared with the dirty cloth and got up to put on his pants. He sat back down and you ran to snuggle into his lap. He wrapped the blanket around your naked body and then stared at the TV for a minute and let out a soft chuckle.

"The movie is over." He said "I can't say whether I liked it or not because frankly I didn't pay attention to it for a second."

You chuckled wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling further into the warmth of his chest.

"I chose this movie on purpose." You confessed. "I thought I could make you feel like it and say no, but I'm not strong enough."

He took his hand to your hair and began to gently caress it. "I'm sorry for irritating you. I know how patient you are with my work and for you to be so angry with me I must have crossed a line."

You didn't respond, but a heavy sigh escaped your nostrils and he took it as confirmation of his words.

"We'll have some time for both of us now and I promise I'll try to slow down a little."

You lifted your head to look at him. There was a look of genuine concern on his face and you could leave him like that, but again, you weren't that strong.

"I'm not mad at you anymore, Steph."

He raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. "No?"

"I should be because you really crossed the line today, but it's hard to stay mad at you when you're the best husband in the world."

A smile played on his lips upon hearing that. "That's always wonderful to hear, you know?"

You caressed his face lightly "It's true. I really don't think there is a better man than you in this world. Even though sometimes you make me angry."

He let out a small laugh "Good to know."

You thought for a moment before making a second confession.

"I liked the way you made love to me tonight." Your face felt completely hot as soon as the words left your mouth.

He caressed her cheeks "And how was that?"

"You know...hard."

He nodded "I always make love hard to you, baby."

"Not like that. It was harder tonight. I liked it. I like it when you take control."

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck "I like it too. I keep it well hidden, but there is a part of me that is extremely controlling, baby."

You smirked, "It's not that hidden."

You smiled, watching him use magic to turn off the TV and standing up, keeping you in his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips. He opened a portal to your shared bedroom.

"Let's go to bed." He said placing a kiss on your forehead.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST

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@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief @slytherinqueen4life

[ethansluvbot]

Hey can you do Jack Champion x Actress!Reader, Where Jack has a crush on her and he like dms her?

FLAWLESS | JACK CHAMPION

summary: jacks had a crush on you for a while now. she's a great actress that he admires. one night he decides its time to finally message her.

warnings: none just fluff :)

an: sorry this is so so so short. i’m so sick so i’ll get to the request and write extra today!! i hope this is how you expected it :)

liked by jennaortega, baileybliss, jackchampion, and others

yourusername: sending kisses from thailand!

view all comments

fan01 you’re so gorgeous, i can’t wait to see the movie!!

yourusername thank you so much!!

jackchampion are you having a good time? the view looks amazing :)

yourusername i love it, thank you!

baileybliss trying to steal my girl?

masongooding my boys trying to make a move?

fan02 you’re so stunning

fan03 THE PASTA YUM

it wasn't unnoticeable that jack has a huge crush on y/n. he was always commenting, liking and reposting her post. he watched all of the movies that she started in and rewatched the shows. he even tried to get jenna to set you two up.

he would've made a move earlier but he was afraid of rejection. maybe it was the fact that he had alcohol in his system that he messaged you.

all he said was a simple hey, "really?" he thought to himself. he should've said something to intrigue her more. he threw his phone and ran away acting like a little girl. it was probably about ten minutes later that he finally decided to check his phone.

y/n scrolled through her messages until she saw his name pop up. all he said was a simple greeting, but you still was amused by it. she tapped the message quickly thinking of the best thing to send back.

hi :)

it shocked him that he even got a reply back. he tried his best to understand what just happened to him. (he’d probably start kicking his feet like a little girl)

i’m going to be honest, i don’t know what to say because i’m still in shock

that was the only thing that could come out after 20 minutes of thinking. she replied pretty quickly to him.

ill give you time to process this ;) i’m going out to lunch, maybe you can join me?

hell yes :)

jack spent at least a half an hour trying to pick a outfit. after he still didn’t figure it out he resorted to calling his mom. which she helped him pick out a outfit quickly.

it was a understatement to say jack was nervous. this is all he wanted. he wanted her. he got into the car and drove to the panera. to be honest he wasn't the biggest fan of panera, but he did it all for her. he would do anything for her.

she sat there waiting with a fresh bowl of soup. he was at least 30 minutes late to their "date". the sound of the bell from the door made her meet the eyes of jack. she smiled waving him over to her.

"hey! sorry i'm late, i couldn't pick out an outfit to wear." she nodded to him. why did she make him that nervous? it's not like they never interacted before. maybe only one or two times.

"i promise i'm friendly," she said brushing her hand against him. that didn't calm any of his nerves. he would just have to be himself and hope she would accept him.

an hour later they finally began to laugh together. it was almost like they had known each other for a long time. he wondered if she actually thought about him more than a friend.

"i really do like you, no matter what i'll wait for you." jack said. you both finished up your lunch and were getting ready to leave. you looked up to him meeting his puppy dog eyes. no one could say no to that.

you looked at his lips and then directly into his eyes. leaning up you attached yourself to his lips. your arm reaching up to curl in his hair.

"i'll text you later stranger," she gave him once last kiss on the lips. she never met someone like her. someone that she could spend her life laughing with. she wondered if something would actually happen between them.

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter five - late library nights

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1337

author's note: hello friends!!! it has almost been a month and i would like to offer my sincerest apologies!!!! i have entered my final semester of university so things have been rather hectic. i appreciate all the love you guys have given this series this far <3 thanks for being the absolute best. kiss kiss

also if i missed you for the taglist plz let me know!!! its been a min hehe

song inspiration: bewitched by laufey

Thanks to Lavender’s rather loose lips, the entire student body of Hogwarts seemed to be buzzing about your secret, not-so-secret admirer. Three days later and you could still hear the giggles of second-year girls as they discussed just who your mystery man could be steps behind you and your friends. You even had to endure a public love confession from both Fred and George, the red-headed twins bickering and quarreling over who loved you more in their newest prank. They both claimed to have been your secret admirer and demanded that you choose the twin you cared for more. It quickly devolved into a passionate, highly embarrassing competition that had the crowd which had slowly grown howling in laughter. George had even torn his shirt open, claiming that ‘the fires of love were burning within him and that clothes could not contain his ardent affection any longer.’ The whole affair might have been more comical had you not been its victim. Suffice to say you were adequately embarrassed, as if the burning blush on your face had not been enough evidence to that fact.

However, even with all the attention now placed on you and your secret admirer, no one had sincerely come forward to claim responsibility. You could hardly blame them, given the reactions of your fellow students. Still, you couldn’t help yourself grow more and more curious as days continued to pass without any additional clues.

“So…I hear you’ve got yourself a bit of an admirer, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Theo to find a smirk resting smugly on his face. “Merlin, not you too, Theo. I swear it’s impossible to go ten minutes without someone mentioning it.”

Theo laughed at your response and the obvious annoyance in your expression. “Bit of a touchy subject?”

You sighed. “Sorry. It’s just—bloody hell, I’ve got loads of people coming up to me trying to chat about it and well, it’s a bit much.”

The tall Slytherin nodded as he scanned his Potions textbook, looking for the next set of directions for the Wolfsbane potion you were currently brewing. “I didn’t mean to pry, really—”

“No, no it’s all right. I’m just a bit on edge recently.” You and Theo both reached for the crushed moonstone, hands bumping clumsily into each other. “Sorry, ‘m all over the place today.”

Theo gave you a gentle smile before grasping the vial, gingerly adding it before meeting your eyes with his own. “S’all right. Besides, we both know it’s better if I handle things, considering I’m the better Potions student any—ow!” Theo rubbed his arm where you had lightly smacked him.

“Just because you beat me by one whole point on the last test doesn’t mean—”

“It means I am better than—Salazar, woman!” This time Theo rubbed his other arm which you may or may not have hit. “You’ve got to come up with a better comeback than physical assault. I could report you to Slughorn, you know.”

“Oh please, you’d never snitch on me, Theo. We’re potions partners after all—you’re stuck with me.”

A wide grin made its way onto Theo’s face, along with the faintest blush that he desperately hoped you couldn’t see in the dim lighting of the classroom. “Yeah, ‘spose I am.” Realizing he was looking at you in a bit of a daze, he cleared his throat. “I forgot to mention, Pucey’s set a last-minute quidditch practice for this afternoon. I know we’re meant to work on the project for anti-venoms, but is there any chance we could push it until later?”

“Tsk, tsk, Theodore. Choosing quidditch over Potions, eh? And you call yourself the best Potions student?” you teased. Theo let out a sharp laugh, dropping three murtlap tentacles into the cauldron bubbling before you. “That works for me, actually. Where did you want to meet?”

“I can catch up with you on the quidditch pitch. We can head over to the library from there.” Stirring the concoction clockwise, Theo looked at you from the corner of his eye, “Thanks for being flexible.”

“’Course. It’s what you would expect from the best Potions student, right?”

“Alright, pipe down.”

“You’re no fun, Theo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now hand me the wolfsbane leaves.”

“Only if you admit I’m the better Potions student.”

“Y/n.”

“…Here you go.”

Tugging at the sleeves of your sweater, you made your way towards the quidditch pitch, just as the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. The practice had evidently just ended as players began to descend from the sky at the sound of Captain Adrian Pucey’s dismissal. Walking over, you saw Theo dismounting from his broom alongside Enzo. Upon spotting you, the pair walked over to greet you.

“Rough practice, huh?” The boys before you were out of breath, chests heaving with obvious exhaustion.

Enzo gave you a look, “You’ve no idea.” Beside him, Theo nodded in agreement.

“Pucey’s got his tail in a twist about the game this weekend against Gryffindor,” Theo said. “We can’t catch a break.” Theo grabbed the end of his practice jersey to wipe at the sweat on his brow, revealing a lean, toned abdomen. His tongue swiped quickly at his pink lips as he continued to breathe heavily. As he let go of his jersey, one of his hands went to run through his unruly curls and you couldn’t help but stare at the more than pleasant image before you.

Fucking hell…Godric save me.

As if sensing your train of thought, Enzo smirked, mirth dancing in his eyes.

The sound of Theo’s Italian accent broke your reverie. “I’ve got to hit the showers, so I’ll be ten minutes or so. You alright with waiting?”

Clutching your Potions textbook to your chest, you nodded, giving Enzo’s look of obvious amusement a glare. “’M fine. Go ahead.”

Theo flashed that wide grin of his that you were becoming fond of before trotting off to join the other players in the locker rooms. By now, Enzo’s grin had become a full-on beam.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Enzo—well, don’t think it.”

The Slytherin raised his hands in mock confusion. “What could you possibly mean, Y/n? I was just wondering—”

“Enzo, don’t make me hit you with this book.”

“Jeez, I guess Theo wasn’t lying when he said you were violent.”

“Hey!”

Hours later in the library, you swore words were beginning to dance off the pages of the endless tomes you and Theo had been rummaging through for your upcoming project. Beside you, Theo seemed to feel the same exhaustion, groaning as his forehead dropped onto one of the thick volumes.

Grasping your quill, you gently brushed the feather by Theo’s ear to grasp his attention. Still faceplanted in a book, the tired boy simply turned his head towards you rather than sitting upright.

“I reckon we call it a night, yeah?” Theo’s curls shook as he nodded his head, eyes beginning to droop in exhaustion. “You’ve probably got to be up early for the game tomorrow too.” Your Potions partner glared at you for the reminder before finally sitting up.

You began to tidy up the sprawled-out texts before Theo broke the quiet resting over the library. “You going?”

Turning to look at him, you paused, “Going to what?”

Theo laughed softly, “The game, Y/n.”

“Oh.” You grinned sheepishly, “I don’t know. Hadn’t decided yet.”

Theo hummed at your response. Moving sluggishly, he began to help you pack up.

“Well…you should go. It’s supposed to be a good one.” You met Theo’s eyes that were already peering into yours.  

“You want me to go, huh? To show off or something?”

Theo laughed at you, gently flicking one of your hands reaching for a stray quill. “Or something.”

You smiled, “Well, if you want me there, I’m there.”

Having finished packing up, Theo stood in front of you and mirrored your grin. “Well, I do…want you there, that is.”

Walking out of the library together, you gently bumped the taller boy’s shoulder. “Then, I’m there.”

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[sketches4mysw33theart]

Whisky Kisses and Chocolate Dreams 

Synopsis: You are trying to enjoy a quiet night to yourself when a certain Mr Willy Wonka stumbles home from a night out ‘testing chocolate ingredients.’  

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: Google Translated phrases (please let me know if these are wrong!)  

(I’m lowkey annoyed that Wonka didn’t speak other languages in the movie, because of course Gene Wilder did and it would make sense for young Wonka to as well considering he’s just come back from his travels, so you better believe I’m sticking it in here)  

Beyond the happily ever after, the takedown of the fearsome cartel, the rearrangement of the corrupt police force, the arrest of the despicable wash house owners, Noodle’s family reunion, and the return home of the scrubbers, there was you and Willy. Through everything.  

You accidentally stumbled across him on the first day he attempted to sell his chocolate in the Galleries Gourmet and, as his chocolate plan grew, continued to bump into him in the most unexpected of places. From the moment your eyes met, and a sweet smile rose on his face, the smile he glowed with as he watched the chocolate cartel fly away, sent Noodle home to her mother, toured the ruins of the castle that would become his cosmic axis, you and Willy were thick as thieves.  

Since then, Willy had been busy building his mini-empire, including his refurbished shop in the Galleries Gourmet (which had quickly become one of the most popular retailers in the city) and the opening of his brand-new factory, but never busy enough to neglect you. Because he took you with him, into his factory, into his living quarters, initially as Chief Operations Officer, regular taste tester, roommate and partner in crime, and eventually into the most freeing relationship you had ever had the pleasure of stumbling into.   

Willy’s friends visited, of course, and very often, especially Noodle. However, it was Miss Benz who Willy was out with one night when you were allowing yourself time to relax with a cup of hot chocolate and the latest funny papers.   

It was late, but not too late, and you were sat in the armchair in your bedroom. It had been your idea to keep separate bedrooms even after your relationship with the chocolatier had blossomed, tentatively suggested over an early breakfast, but Willy was eager to nod and agree. He worked a very strange schedule, sometimes sleeping in late and others bursting awake at the first sign of dawn, and often not slipping back between the sheets until the world was shadowed in darkness. Despite this, when your schedules matched up, neither would oppose the other sneaking into their room at night. 

In your room that night, the fire was roaring in the hearth, battling the oncoming autumn chill, and you were enjoying the stillness of the end of a busy day. Willy had gone out early afternoon, and you glanced towards the clock languidly, not particularly worried. Willy may have been prone to getting himself into tight spots, but you had no doubt that Miss Benz would stand for none of it.  

Still, you did wonder where they may be. It wasn’t unusual for Willy to disappear for hours and then show back up as though it had only been a few minutes, babbling about a new idea or the source of a new inspiration. But these were usually solitary adventures – he enjoyed devoting all his time to his friends when they were in town.   

Before your twinge of worry could teeter and threaten to overspill into a pool of anxiety, you heard the distinct sound of the front door clicking shut below. He was always extra quiet when coming home after dark. He never wanted to wake you.  

Not that this seemed particularly important to him on this night. Because, not ten seconds after the front door shut, there was a mighty bang like metal hitting wood, some unintelligible mumbled words, heavy footsteps, and finally a soft knock on your door.   

Before you could respond, your door flew open, and in flashes of purple and brown, a familiar body stumbled into your room, exclaiming your name. You were faced with Mr Willy Wonka, swaying slightly on his feet with his arms wide open. “Hello, my love!”   

He looked dishevelled, his coat crinkled, hair a mess beneath his slightly dented top hat and shirt tails hanging out over his trousers. Heaven only knew what had happened to his waistcoat.   

You watched him with your eyebrows raised as he took off his hat, patted down his curls, and turned on his heels around your room.   

“Hm, where did the coat rack go?” He mumbled to himself. You did not have a coat rack. He looked at you, biting down on your lip to stop from laughing at the state of him, and a dawn of realisation rose on his face. “Oh well, I suppose this will do.”  

He stumbled over to you and placed the hat, at an angle, on your head, adjusted it slightly, and then patted the top with a smile. Once he was satisfied, he turned and fell unceremoniously face down on your bed. That laughing smile grew unrestrained on your face as you plucked the hat from your head and put it carefully on the table beside you. “Willy?” You questioned, and he looked over at you with glazed-over eyes and a dopey grin.   

“Mmm?”  

“What are you doing?”  

“Having a lie-down.”  

“This is my room,” you said, humorously.   

“Then why are you sitting there like a goose?” He rolled over onto his back so he could look at you properly as he patted the empty side of the bed.  

You were quick to cast the paper you were engrossed in only a second ago to the side and slink into his open arms. But, getting up close to him allowed you a sudden realisation before you could settle down.  

“Willy, have... have you been drinking?!” You asked, unable to hold back your laugh as you noticed the scent of alcohol tingling your nostrils, the dreamy mist of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers.   

“No,” he responded quickly, defensively. “Miss Benz and I have been testing chocolate ingredients.”  

“Oh, and what were these ingredients?”  

He opened his mouth, then hesitated before replying, looking beyond you in thought. “Well, we started with rum for these incredible bottle-shaped Rum Babas I want to experiment with, there was quite a bit of that to taste, then we tried some liqueurs, lots of flavours, the cherry tasted just divine, a glass or two of champagne for truffles, and then we sampled some whisky for fudge. And then, I... well, then I was here. Come closer, I missed you.”  

He held you tightly, pulling you into his sweat-sheened skin until your nose brushed against the tautness of his neck. With this closeness, Willy took the opportunity to press a dozen soft, quick kisses to random planes of skin on your face, across your nose and cheeks and forehead and hurriedly closed eyelids. You could smell the overwhelming scent of whisky lingering on his breath as his lips stumbled across your face, but he pressed them to your own before you could comment.  

His kiss tasted interesting, a cocktail of numerous alcohols and, of course, chocolate, but his lips were as soft and gentle as they always were. You hoped that would never change.   

“Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he started mumbling as he pulled away, staring at you with wild eyes. “Mon amour, amore mio, meu amor, qīn’ài de, meine geleite – hm, wait, that’s not right. Meine.... Ah, meine geliebte.” Although the numerous ways of breathing a new lease of life into the sweet name he had for you tickled you pink, giggles bubbled up in your throat and tumbled from your lips as unrestrained as the whisky flowing on your lover's breath. He looked at you with a bemused expression that was hurriedly offset by a beaming smile. “Why are you laughing?! I’m expressing my love!”  

You didn’t bother to even try and stop the laughs escaping your body, but you did fight through them to make your excuses. “I know, I know, but... nevermind.” You dragged the heel of your hand over one of your eyes before looking at him earnestly, genuinely. “I love you.”  

He glowed at your words, lit up and grinning like a child at the foot of a Christmas tree. “I love you too,” he returned the sentiment with quiet vigour, stroking two trembling fingers against the protruding bone of your cheek.  

However, the moment was somewhat spoiled by the obnoxious yawn he released, barely covered by the hand that wasn’t touching your skin.  

“Come on,” you said, nudging him slightly until you could peel up your coverlet, “let’s go to bed.” He was eager to fall under the covers and pulled you closer instantly, so the bedspread fluttered down around you of its own accord.  

Held tight in his arms, you felt the softness of Willy’s lips whisper at your hairline, an everlasting goodnight kiss. Before you could press a kiss to his neck in return, he was already beginning to snore.