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bubblyi3 · 17 hours ago

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Residuals PART 3 | JJK

"you were always the ‘what if’ in the back of his mind."

genre: childhood best friends, lovers to enemies to strangers, fratboy!jungkook, heartbreak, uni!au

word count: 16.5k

content warning: angst, mild smut, mild languages

summary: jungkook used to be your everything. your best friend, your first love. but you both grew up and grew apart. he’s now the campus heartbreaker, a cocky frat boy who runs with the worst crowd. when a cruel dare asks him to destroy you just for the fun of it. everything shatters. trust. hearts. and maybe the chance to ever put it back together.

author's note: hiiiiii everyone!! so sorry it took forever to update, but the long awaited part 3 is finally here 🤍 TAGLIST IS NOW CLOSED <3 there's so many of you on it... that’s insane :o anyways the angst still isn’t over 😭 but thank you so so much to everyone who’s been keeping up with this series (and my other stuff too) it honestly means the world to me :) ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵠᵘᶦⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉ��ᵉˢ ᵃ ᵇᶦᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵒᵗᵉⁿᵗᶦᵃˡ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʳᶦᵃⁿᵍˡᵉ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵏᶦⁿᵍ… ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ… ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ

if there are any grammar mistakes, i apologise in advance 😅 anyways happy reading ✨ and pls do send me more of your thoughts and opinions 💭❤️ i love reading them and responding to you all 😊💬💖 :)))

PROLOGUE || PART 1 || PART 2

🏷️ taglist: @whoa-jo / @username23345 / @kelsyx33 / @toosweetforyall / @junniesoleilkth / @literallyjimin / @jeeykey / @stars4kooo / @delulutofr / @smoljimjim / @elithenium / @mysoulherofriend / @ukndtwme / @somehowukook / @songbyeonkim / @miakay98 / @sundains / @bjoriis / @kooever / @dragonflygurl4 / @labbbaaa / @cherricherryy / @jeongguks-posts / @rexana19 / @ppeachyttae / @ssbb-22 / @anydzia / @multifanbigbang / @fairyflorasworld / @miakay98 / @taetaecatboy / @mangify / @lachimolalajeon / @mikrokosmosellen / @blueberriesm / @aliceinthewornderland / @taebreezs / @yunhoswrldddd / @ayecannot / @aestheticalime / @llallaaa / @softchannie / @nikilig / @amarawayne / @vinylphwoar / @gizaspicebag / @jkwritez / @prettyjmsworld / @00frenchfries00 / @ennvfv / @bhonbhon / @kissyfacekoo / @alextgef / @zorj4yrk / @roguesthetic / @avawants2havefun / @hoelychildofgod

[ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋ] His fingers closed around the cold neck of a beer bottle that someone handed him. It was a simple gesture, but one that anchored him to the moment, and made him feel a little least invisible. The condensation slipped down onto his skin, grounding him in something real, something physical, while his mind buzzed with everything he was trying to ignore. You.

Jungkook could feel the bass thumping through the floor, see the blur of bodies moving in and out of the living room, the warmth of alcohol loosening conversations around him that he wasn’t really part of. He wasn’t sure why he came tonight. But Jimin had insisted he should come and meet the guys.

From his perspective, if a friend group had a label, Kim Namjoon would be the leader. The young man looked steady, observant, and he was instinctively respected by everyone, without him ever needing to say much. Namjoon leaned forward from where he sat on the armrest of the couch, eyes settling on Jungkook. “So, what are you studying man?”

Jungkook blinked, startled by the sudden question, then gave a small shrug. “Majoring in film production.”

Namjoon’s face lit up with an easy approval. “That’s awesome, man. Are you looking to direct in the future or…?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jungkook said, settling down the beer bottle on the small coffee table in front. “Something behind the camera, maybe. Cinematography, editing. I like building things from the background.”

There was a pause. A small, knowing hum from Namjoon.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “You seem like someone who notices the details. The stuff most people miss. That’s what makes films good, y’know?”

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t used to being seen like that. Especially not by someone he barely knew. His default was to shrink back, to play it cool. But there was something disarming about Namjoon’s tone. Like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and that’s something Jungkook secretly envied.

Jungkook murmured a soft 'Thanks,' his fingers brushing the bottle on the table before he took a slow sip. The taste was sharp, almost sour, but it was enough to ground him, distracting from the tightness in his chest.

Across the room, someone laughed too loudly, and another song took over the playlist, its bass vibrating through the floor. For a moment, Jungkook let the noise wash over him, pretending things were simpler than they were. Pretending he didn’t feel like he was being pulled in two directions. He cares about you… he really does. That was never in question. But sometimes, that care felt more like a duty than a choice. That care came layered with so many expectations. From his parents, from yours, from everyone who ever saw you two side by side and assumed it was only a matter of time. As if love was something that came with a checklist.

And then there was everything else. The uni experience, the friends, the freedom, the girls, the version of himself he hadn’t fully lived yet. The late nights, the recklessness, the adrenaline of being young and answerable to no one. He knew he was supposed to be better than that, but part of him craved the chaos.

You made him better, and that terrifies him. Because you also made him vulnerable. And no one else could touch that soft, exposed part of him… not even himself. And then just as if Jungkook knew that the silence was a bit obvious now and how he lost he was in his own thoughts. He gave a small shake of his head and turned to Namjoon.

“How about you?” Jungkook asked, more to fill the space than from any real curiosity.

Namjoon smiled, tipping his bottle toward Jungkook before answering. “In my third year in Psych. Planning to go into counseling eventually. I wanna help people figure out their mess.”

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “That’s heavy.”

"Yeah," Namjoon agreed, leaning back. "But I think it’s kind of worth it... Humans are so complex, you know? It’s fascinating, and then there are moments where it’s just like, 'What the fuck?'"

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was brief, the atmosphere shifting again as if someone had flipped a switch. Another guy, grinning just across from Jungkook, jerked his chin toward the girl Taehyung had just been making out with. “Yo, ever fucked someone that hot before?” At that moment, Jungkook's surroundings started becoming clearler as Namjoon wasn’t the only person keeping him company, there were others. Observing and listening.

The room erupted in hoots, whistles, laughter that felt sharp around the edges.

Jungkook froze. The question landed like a punch he hadn’t braced for. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Until Jimin, quick and composed, stepped in. “Hey, JK’s got a girl, alright?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise.

All eyes turned to Jungkook.

He swallowed and forced a steady breath. “Yeah. Y/n. She’s my childhood bestfriend. She also studies here… we’re not together or anything. But I care about her. A lot.”

The room slightly quited as if they hadn’t expected the sincerity. Jimin gave him a short nod, one that said I’ve got your back, even if his eyes flickered with something else. Guilt, maybe. Or something close to it.

Hoseok, ever the provocateur, smirked from the couch and nudged him. “So... is she hot?”

Jungkook blinked, a little thrown by the pivot, but answered without hesitation. “She’s more than that. She’s beautiful. Inside and out.”

One of the guys exchanged a look with another, like maybe Jungkook had missed the tone of the conversation. But Jimin’s expression shifted. It was less teasing now, more proud. Like he didn’t expext Jungkook to say it, but was glad he did.

“That’s actually kinda cute,” Yoongi laughed, shaking their head.

“Yeah, man,” Jin chimed in, grinning. “You’ve got it easy. A childhood bestfriend and a girlfriend if you ever feel like calling it that. Built-in relationship… practically arranged marriage, huh?”

The guys laughed, but the comment hit something deeper in Jungkook. Because it wasn’t far off.

He hadn’t thought about it in a while, but suddenly he was back in his hallway, no older than thirteen, pausing at the corner when he heard both your mums talking in the living room. The door was slightly ajar, the warm hum of their voices drifting out with the smell of dinner.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they ended up together?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it more than once. They’re so close already. It just makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“They balance each other out. Jungkook’s a little wild, and Y/n grounds him. And she lights up whenever he’s around.”

He hadn’t known what to make of it back then. Just flushed, embarrassed, unsure if it was something he was supposed to want too. And now, years later, it lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost that never really left.

Namjoon leaned in again, but his voice had changed. No longer friendly, but testing. “That is cute. But if you’re thinking of hanging with us more, man… might wanna rethink that. With us? Girls are just noise. Drama. Mind games.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. He looked down at his beer for a second before shaking his head, calm but firm. “Y/n’s not like that. I trust her.”

Jimin gave him a quiet, approving smile. But Jungkook caught the way his eyes dropped after, guilt shadowing them like a secret not yet confessed.

Namjoon raised his bottle, tilting it slightly with a smirk. “It’s bros before hoes around here, like it or not.”

The words hit the room like a dare. Everyone exchanged grins, waiting to see if Jungkook would fall in line.

Hoseok leaned, his tone slick and easy. “Think about it, man. Why get tied down? Girls are just trouble. They’re clingy, insecure, cheating messes. We’ve all been burned. It’s easier when it’s just casual, no mess, no strings.”

Jungkook glanced around the circle of grins, half-baked wisdom, and barely concealed resentment.

“Alright, JK… why don’t you bring her around?” Namjoon said, gesturing to the group. “We wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away.

There was a pause. Just a few seconds too long. The kind that made it obvious he was thinking too hard. His fingers curled tighter around the bottle again, knuckles whitening ever so slightly. He could still hear the music, the bass thrumming beneath his feet like a heartbeat he couldn’t shut out. But it all felt distant now. Muted.

Bring you around?

It should’ve been a simple request. Hell, if this were any other moment, any other group, he might’ve said sure and left it at that. You would’ve smiled at them, probably brought a snack to share, maybe even teased Jungkook in front of them and made it all feel easy.

But this didn’t feel easy.

But then, just as quickly, the version of himself that always felt like he had something to prove kicked in. The part that hated silence more than confrontation. The part that didn’t want to seem like he had anything to hide.

So Jungkook exhaled through his nose, forced his jaw to unclench, and gave a small shrug. “Sure,” he said, with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jungkook stayed frozen on the edge of his bed for a long while, phone still glowing in his palm, the words from the group chat staring back at him like vultures circling.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. The urge to shut it all down, to tell them to fuck off, to admit that this wasn’t just a game, was strong. A flicker of something real sparked deep in his chest.

But just as fast, his pride doused it.

Because the moment he admitted that the kiss meant something… that you still meant something… was the moment he handed them power. Gave them reason to question him. And he couldn’t afford that. Not when everything about his place in that group, hinged on keeping up the version of himself they expected.

The unshakable, unbothered golden boy. Wasn’t this what he wanted? To feel free? To dive into the party life, the girls, the games? To never be tied down by anyone or anything, to live on his terms without the weight of expectations or the messy emotions that came with real connections?

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned back, tossing his phone on the mattress like it burned him. He stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.

You were different now. Stronger. Softer in ways that made his chest ache and harder in ways that reminded him he couldn’t reach you like he used to.

And yet, despite the distance and time, you still let him in. You still kissed him back. It felt hesitant, unsure... but you did.

Was that love?

Or just muscle memory?

He didn’t want to think about it.

Not when it complicated everything.

He wasn’t ready for complicated. He wasn’t ready for you.

What he was ready for was the game. The one they all expected him to win. The one he said he didn’t care about, but still hadn’t walked away from.

So, he grabbed his phone again, shaking off the urge to just ignore the chat entirely.

Jungkook typed slowly, carefully choosing his words.

[Jungkook]: She kissed me back. Easy.

He hit send. Delivered. Read.

A fresh wave of messages followed. Laughing emojis. Shit talk. Praise. Hoseok even dropped a gif of someone fake bowing in admiration. And Jungkook laid there, letting it all wash over him, blank-faced.

The truth was, it wasn’t easy.

It felt like shit.

But none of them needed to know that.

This version of Jungkook. Frat Jungkook, ego Jungkook. He was untouchable. Confident. Cruel, if he had to be. And for now, he had to be.

Because if he stopped and let the real Jungkook through. The one who still remembered your favorite snack, the one who used to race you home from school just to see you smile when he let you win. The one who you've seen cried at the end of sad movies. He’d break.

And breaking was not an option.

He got up, stripped off his hoodie, and headed to the bathroom, trying to shake the feel of your lips from his skin, like maybe a cold splash of water could cleanse him of the guilt.

But it clung to him. Silent. Invisible.

That kiss had felt like something.

But tonight, he’d pretend it wasn’t.

And tomorrow, he’d keep playing the part. Because his pride still mattered more than the truth.

And his ego?

Still louder than his heart.

The days crept by, and Jungkook still had no idea how the hell he was supposed to fix what he broke. Whatever this had become. How to get you back on his radar, to look you in the eyes again without feeling like a stranger in a place that once felt like home. It wasn't just miscommunication or time apart. It wasn't subtle. Not a flinch or a misread. It was because he crossed a line.

A line that had always been blurry between you two, but still unspoken. At the night he kissed you, everything changed.

He knew why you were avoiding him. And you were good at it, too.

He’d catch glimpses of you through your bedroom window, hear your footsteps upstairs when he stopped by with his parents for dinner or a chat. But you always found a way to slip out of reach. Like tonight, Jungkook had come over with his parents. The kind of casual weeknight dinner that used to mean movie nights, teasing over who got the last piece of chicken, and you curled up next to him on the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And your mum who's always composed and always warm, placed a dish on the dining table with that same practiced smile. "Y/n had an early dinner. She's in her room studying… or doing God knows what."

"Or sleeping," your dad added, chuckling softly as he poured himself a drink.

Jungkook had forced a smile. He didn’t say what he was thinking, that he knew you weren’t sleeping. That he’d heard your desk chair scrape against the floor a few minutes ago from upstairs or some faint mumbling going on behind your door.

Anyways it was clear to Jungkook you were avoiding him... not dinner, not studying.

“Kook, did your mum mention anything about Mrs. Kwon’s retirement party at the community hall?” your mum asked casually, reaching across to top up the banchan.

“Oh! That totally slipped my mind,” his mum said, letting out a soft laugh as she covered her mouth, still chewing on a bite of japchae.

Jungkook blinked. “Mrs. Kwon?” he repeated, brow slightly furrowed. He glanced at his own mum beside him, who gave a small nod as she sipped her tea.

But then it clicked.

Oh.

Mrs. Kwon.

His eyes softened with recognition.

She was you and Jungkook's old elementary school teacher. The one who used to call you two the twins even though you looked nothing alike. Who would jokingly separate your seats because “one giggle from her and you’re both done for.” The same Mrs. Kwon who became a close friend to both your mums after you graduated.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, letting the memory settle. “She’s retiring?” he asked, still surprised. “Isn’t she still pretty young?”

His dad gave a small smile. “She is. But I think she just wants more time for herself. Travel, pottery classes, yoga retreats. She said she’s done wrangling kids and chalk dust.”

“Honestly,” your dad added with a laugh from the other end of the room, “she’s earned it. Thirty years of dealing with other people’s kids? I would’ve retired ten years ago.”

Jungkook shook his head with a grin. “Man. It's been so long. Those were the good old days.”

Your mum’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. “You know she still asks about you and Y/n."

Jungkook froze for half a beat, then glanced toward the staircase.

His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Yeah?”

“She’s always had a soft spot for the both of you,” his mum said. “Said it was nice, watching two kids grow up so close.”

Jungkook didn’t reply right away.

Just traced his thumb over the edge of his glass and let the quiet speak.

“So, about the retirement party,” your mum began, glancing between Jungkook and everyone else at the table. “It’d be great if you and Y/n could run a few errands this Friday. Pick up some things from the list, decorations, maybe a cake or even a gift from both of you.”

“Don’t worry too much about the food,” she added. “Your mum and I have that covered.”

“As for the invitations,” his mum chimed in, gesturing with her chopsticks, “We’ll leave that to the old men. Your dad and Y/n’s. They’ll take care of getting the word out. Just make sure we invite as many locals as we can... anyone who knew Mrs. Kwon.”

Jungkook, quietly sipping his soup, hummed in response.

“Would you be alright to help, Jungkook?” your mum asked, turning to him. “Or will you be too caught up with uni work?”

He paused, lowering his spoon.

Technically, yes. He had a deadline this week for a film analysis report in which he yet needed to finish. But this? This was an opportunity. He wasn’t dumb. This was the perfect excuse to pull you out of your room… and into his space.

Driving around together. Picking out party supplies. Arguing over whether to go with a chocolate cake or something fancier. A chance to chip away at whatever wall you were building, without making it obvious he cared enough to try.

“Actually,” he added, more confidently now, “it sounds like a good way to take a break from studying.... I’m keen.”

There was a beat of silence, then your mum gave a pleased smile and nodded. "I'll let Y/n know."

And Jungkook just nodded back, reaching for his glass of water, fingers curling gently around it as if grounding himself.

He didn’t let his face show anything. But his heart?

It was already upstairs.

Waiting. Wondering that maybe somewhere, buried beneath the silence and space. He was still in there. In your heart. Even if you didn’t know what to do with him anymore.

It was now the first Thursday of the semester break, and you still had another full week before uni started up again. A whole week left to keep avoiding him, to sit with your feelings.

You’d tried everything to stay distracted. Kept your head down, nose buried in business assignments. You were now halfway through your marketing research paper. Highlighting sentences you’d probably have to reread anyway. You have even reorganized your folders and colour-coded your calendar. Just for the illusion of control.

You knew Jungkook had come over for dinner with his parents last night. You'd made sure to eat something earlier to avoid being tempted. But as the evening wore on, the delicious smell of your mom’s cooking wafted upstairs, and your stomach betrayed you. Reminding you just how hungry you actually were.

Still, you stayed put. Ear pressed half-heartedly to your pillow, mind tuned in to every laugh from downstairs, every familiar voice drifting through the walls. It felt wrong, this strange game of hide-and-seek in your own house. But you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

You tried to ignore it, pushing the hunger aside as you waited for him and his parents to leave. The moment the front door clicked shut and silence settled again, you crept out of your room and rushed downstairs to raid the kitchen for leftovers.

Ever since that kiss, Jungkook's been louder than usual. Some nights his music blares through the walls, followed by bursts of laughter at whatever he's watching. You've laid in bed more than once thinking, What the hell is he on?

You wanted to text him, Tell him to keep it down.

But no. You're not going to be the first to cave.

You'd rather call noise control than send him a message.

Which brings you to now. Sitting in front of your laptop, and on the other end of the video call, Hana’s jaw drops, eyes bulging in disbelief.

“He did what now?!” she nearly shrieks, sloshing her drink dangerously close to the edge.

You flinch. “Shhh!” you hiss, immediately glancing toward your door. The last thing you needed was your parents overhearing this conversation.

Without another word, you slip up from your chair and quietly close the door, pressing it shut like sealing off a secret.

“Hana, seriously, keep your voice down.”

“No, because what the actual fuck,” she fires back, already too far gone. “Jungkook kissed you? Your Jungkook? The same one who’s been acting like you don’t exist and probably collecting STDs like Pokémon cards?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Can you not call him ‘my Jungkook’? He’s not my anything.”

Hana narrows her eyes at you. “Oh no. Don’t do that thing where you downplay it. Start talking. How, when, where?”

You sigh, defeated. “It was after my Halmoni’s house. He drove me home. We barely said a word the whole ride, and then he just pulled over. No warning. Just looked at me like… like he didn’t know who I was, or maybe he did and hated it. Then he kissed me.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the call. Hana blinks, “And?”

“And I kissed him back. For a second.” You exhale, voice small. “I let it happen. I don’t even know why. Then I snapped out of it and told him he doesn’t get to do that. He dropped me home and left.”

Hana stares. “You’re telling me that the human disaster who ghosted you on your birthday, humiliated you in front of his dumbass frat friends, and ignored you for months just waltzed back into your life and kissed you like nothing happened?”

You shrug, half-hearted. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Hana leans in closer to the camera, her eyes narrowed. "Okay, this guy does not get to make you his unfinished business."

You blink. "I know."

She raises a finger, like she’s about to drop some serious wisdom. "You’ve got to be careful with whatever Jungkook’s playing at."

You almost laugh, but the sound gets stuck in your throat. "You think he's playing me? I mean, since we’ve been home for the break, I’ve pretty much got the upper hand. I could literally tell his parents what kind of influence he’s been hanging around."

Hana’s eyes widen. "Ohhh, you wouldn’t."

"Maybe… maybe not," you reply with a shrug.

There’s a beat of silence between you, the soft hum of your laptop fan filling the void as your gaze shifts to your untouched research paper. On the other end of the screen, Hana is now sprawled out on her bed, her laptop teetering on her knees, a look of pure academic defeat on her face.

“Honestly,” she sighs, shoving her hair into a messy bun, “I need a break from these goddamn business papers. If I have to reference Porter’s Five Forces one more time, I’ll commit an actual crime.”

You snort. “Same. I opened a blank doc and somehow ended up trauma-dumping instead of writing anything useful.”

“Valid,” she says with a lazy nod, sipping from her chipped mug. Then her expression shifts as something sparks in her mind. “Oh! Omg, I almost forgot to tell you. I saw freaking Park Jimin at the gym yesterday.”

You blink, confused for a second. “Wait, Park Jimin as in Jungkook’s Jimin?”

“Yes!” she grins. “Like, actual golden-boy, smile-that-could-end-wars, Park Jimin.”

You sit up a little straighter, curiosity piqued.

“He is so hot. Obviously. But also... surprisingly nice? Like, I was lowkey panicking because I dropped my drink bottle and it rolled across the floor, and he actually walked over and picked it up for me.”

“Classic Jimin,” you murmur, the corner of your mouth lifting.

Because out of all the frat guys Jungkook had introduced you to that night. Jimin was the only one who hadn’t treated you like a punchline or some extension of Jungkook’s ego. No sideways smirks. No stupid comments. Just a small bow, a kind smile, and genuine conversation about your classes. It had surprised you then, and stuck with you.

Hana raises a brow. “Wait, you’ve met him before, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice softer now. “He was actually the only one who wasn’t a total ass.”

Hana hums thoughtfully, picking up on the subtle shift in your tone. “Then why’s he even hanging out with them?”

You pause, eyes flicking back to your laptop screen before forcing a breath through your nose. “Doesn’t matter,” you say, a little sharper now. “Hot or nice doesn’t mean anything.”

You sit up straighter, like you're brushing it all off. “You know that saying.... ‘birds of a feather flock together’?”

Hana nods slowly on the other end.

“Yeah, well... if Jungkook’s an asshole, then deep down Jimin is too. They all are. That’s the company they keep.”

A silence settles after your last words, the kind that isn't uncomfortable, just weighted. Like both of you know there's more underneath, but neither of you wants to touch it.

The gentle whir of your laptop fan fills the space again, joined now by the faint golden light bleeding in from the window beside you. It's warmer than before, softer. You blink and glance at the clock in the corner of your screen. 4:27 PM.

You rub your eyes, surprised. “Wait… have we seriously been on this call since, like 11 AM?”

Hana glances at her own clock and groans. “Holy shit. We’re disgusting.”

You both laugh, and for a moment, things feel lighter again.

“I haven’t even eaten a proper meal today,” you mutter, stretching your arms above your head. Your shoulders crack in protest. “I think I’ve fully fused into this chair.”

“Girl, go feed yourself,” Hana snorts. “I think my spine’s permanently curved from sitting like a shrimp.”

You smile, the tension from earlier finally easing. “Alright, I’m logging off. Let’s pretend we were productive.”

“We were productive. Emotionally,” she smirks.

You shake your head, fondness curling at the edges of your chest. “Talk later?”

“Always.”

The call ends with a soft click, the screen blinking back to your cluttered desktop. But without Hana’s voice, the room feels a little too quiet, a little too still.

You lean back in your chair, exhaling deeply.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think about Jimin again. And then, inevitably, about Jungkook.

But you don’t go there.

You get up instead, heading downstairs for the kitchen, telling yourself it’s just hunger. Not the ache of things left unsaid.

As you finally made your way downstairs, the warmth of home greeted you, mingled with the faint scent of jasmine perfume and musky cologne lingering subtly in the air. Your eyes caught your dad lounging on the couch, half-watching one of his usual TV shows, while your mum was at the dining table, carefully putting away plates and cutlery like she was trying not to make a sound.

Her eyes lit up when she saw you. “Oh, there she is! Finally out of her cave,” your dad teased with a grin, not even looking away from the screen.

You blinked for a moment, slightly taken aback. It wasn’t the joke that caught you off guard, but how put-together both your parents looked. Your mum, usually in house slippers and a robe by this hour, was wearing pressed dress pants, a soft ivory blouse tucked neatly at the waist, and just a hint of makeup that brightened her face.

Your dad of all people, had actually combed his hair, swapped his usual tee for a button-up, and even wore cologne. For someone supposedly just relaxing at home, it all felt... suspiciously polished.

“Y/n, I saved some dinner for you,” your mum said sweetly, motioning toward the covered dishes on the bench. “Made your favorites.”

“Oh... you guys already ate?” you asked, glancing at the untouched place settings.

“Well, not exactly,” she replied, a spark in her tone. “Your dad and I are heading out in a bit. Double date with Jungkook’s parents. We’re going to that comedy night in town.”

“Wow,” you said, raising a brow. “And no invite for me?”

Your dad chuckled, finally turning off the TV and rising from the couch to grab his coat. “We figured you’d be buried under uni work, and honestly... we booked the tickets ages ago."

“Next time, okay?” your mum added gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear and pressing a soft kiss to your temple before moving past you.

As your dad pocketed the car keys and straightened his jacket, he gave you a small wave. “Don’t wait up. We won’t be too long.”

You gave a half-smile, returning the wave. “Alright, have fun. And don’t go too crazy.”

They both laughed lightly before heading to the door. Just as your mum reached for the handle, she turned back casually, as if it were an afterthought.

“Oh, and before I forget,” she said. “Jungkook will be coming over soon to keep you company. I asked him to swing by so you two can catch up. I was also hoping you could make time to run a few errands with him tomorrow morning. Mrs. Kwon’s retirement party is this Saturday, and we need a few things picked up. Decorations, cake, a few bits and bobs. It’d be a big help.”

You froze slightly, the mention of his name shifting something in your chest. Your expression faltered for a second, but your mum had already turned away, smiling as she stepped out the door.

“Be nice,” she added with a wink, then closed it behind her. Leaving you alone in the silence of the hallway... with the unwanted thought of the one person you hadn’t planned on seeing.

Once the door shut, the house settled into a stillness that felt louder than it should have. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shoulders sinking slightly as you turned away from the entryway.

With nothing better to do and your stomach reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast, you padded toward the kitchen and lifted the food cover your mum had mentioned. The sight alone made your stomach flutter with anticipation. Steaming rice, glistening teriyaki chicken, and a generous serving of cheesy tteokbokki on the side, the melted mozzarella still holding some stretch. Hell yes!

You sat at the table and ate in comfortable silence, demolishing the entire plate without pause. It tasted like everything you've been craving.

After cleaning up and washing the dishes, you wandered back toward the stairs, but instead of heading straight up, your eyes flicked toward the mirror in the hallway. You looked… okay. Still in your oversized hoodie and sweats, hair in a loose bun. It was comfortable, sure, but suddenly, you found yourself hesitating.

It’s just Jungkook, you told yourself. Why the hell did it matter?

But your feet were already carrying you upstairs. Within minutes, you changed into something a little more presentable. A soft-knit top and loose black pants. Hair down. A swipe of lip balm. You hated how subconscious it made you feel.

You made your way back down, trying not to think too much about it, and collapsed onto the couch. The quiet hum of a random drama played in the background, but your attention was fractured. You glanced at your phone. The screen lit up. No new messages. Not even a quick “on my way.”

Why would you even expect that? This wasn’t the Jungkook who used to spam you with dumb selfies and memes when he was two minutes late. This was the new Jungkook. The distant one. The one who became someone else.

You found yourself walking toward the front window anyway.

From the living room, the view into Jungkook’s place was partially blocked by the hedges, but you could still make out the soft golden lights inside. No signs of him stepping out. You watched for a moment longer than you wanted to, then sighed and backed away, arms folded across your chest.

Time passed. You checked your phone again. Somehow, over an hour and a half had slipped by. You were now lying sideways on the couch, the show long forgotten in the background, the half-watched episode just white noise to your thoughts, and you had slowly dozed off. Your eyes slowly closing.

And then... the sound of the doorbell snapped you upright.

Your heart did something strange. You blinked, disoriented by how fast your body reacted.

You sat frozen for a moment, just staring toward the door.

It was him. It had to be.

You swallowed, then slowly got up, smoothing the creases from your pants with clammy palms. And as you made your way toward the front door, every step was a quiet reminder.

It’s just Jungkook.

It’s just Jungkook. So why did it feel like anything but? Hana’s words looped in your mind, her voice sharp and warning. "You’ve got to be careful with whatever Jungkook’s playing at."

You swallowed, knowing she was right. Though you're still the Y/n that Jungkook grew up with since diapers. You were never blind. You knew how to read between the lines. You weren't naive. So if Jungkook was playing whatever game this was, whether it was guilt, avoidance, or something more complicated. Then two could play at that game. But could you? Could you keep up if his presence was exactly what you wanted?

The thought made your grip tighten on the door handle as you pulled it open slowly. You’d expected… something colder. A distant nod, a mumbled hey, maybe that faraway look he’s been wearing. The one that made it seem like he was always halfway somewhere else, even when standing right in front of you.

But instead you've met with something entirely different.

“Sorry for the wait,” Jungkook said, his voice light, almost too casual. He held up two steaming boxes of pizza in one hand and a cold bottle of Coke Zero in the other, like some peace offering wrapped in garlic crust and carbonated bubbles.

You blinked, momentarily stunned.

There he was. Bathed in the warm hue of the porch light, eyes bright, skin soft and golden like he’d just stepped out of a memory. His hair was tousled like he’d run his fingers through it on the way over, and he wore one of those effortlessly oversized hoodies paired with gray sweats that somehow made existing look like an aesthetic. He looked like comfort. Like the version of him you hadn’t seen in far too long.

And he was smiling. That familiar smile, lazy and warm. A little crooked at the corners. The lip ring he wears now was gone, and your gaze faltered for a beat too long at his mouth. Those lips. The ones that were on yours days ago. However, the Jungkook that is now standing before you felt real, warm and familiar. Not the stranger from the frat parties, not the guy who never texted back.

You folded your arms instinctively, a half-hearted shield. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said, tone cooler than you meant. “I can look after myself, you know.”

Jungkook tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes, but you kept them trained elsewhere. On the bottle of soda, the floor, anywhere but his face.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “but where’s the fun in that?” There was a beat, a pause in his voice. Then, a little quieter, “And… I wanted to. Plus, we should probably talk. About… you know. That night.”

Before you could respond, he stepped inside, breezing past you like muscle memory, like he hadn’t spent the last few months being emotionally MIA. He handed you the chilled Coke, the condensation cool against your palms, then toed off his shoes and headed straight for the living room.

He placed the pizza boxes gently on the coffee table, like it was any other night. And you stood there in the doorway for just a second longer, your heart a little too loud, your mind a little too full. Because the one thing you weren’t ready for was the version of him that actually looked like he cared.

Jungkook glanced at the TV, the flickering light reflecting in his eyes. "Wait... is this Never Have I Ever?"

You gave a small shrug, still standing with the bottle of Coke in hand. “Yeah. I rewatch it when I don’t know what else to put on.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Classic comfort show. Still team Paxton?"

"Always," you muttered under you breath, trying not to smile.

Jungkook chuckled and settled on the floor in front of the coffee table, already lifting the lids off both pizza boxes. The warm, cheesy scent hit the air instantly. Garlicky, spicy, a little sweet. It filled the room like nostalgia.

“Come on,” he said, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “You’re not gonna make me eat all this alone, are you?”

You sighed like it was a hassle, but your body was already moving toward him. “You’re lucky it smells good,” you muttered, placing the Coke bottle on the table before heading to the kitchen cupboard.

He made a satisfied little sound as he picked up a slice, steam still curling from the crust. “Mmm... this is so hot,” he said through a mouthful, not even trying to be graceful.

You grabbed two cups and returned, lowering yourself onto the floor beside him. Well, not beside him. You gave yourself some breathing room, settling cross-legged just far enough away that your knees wouldn’t accidentally bump. The space felt necessary, like an invisible boundary you weren’t ready to cross.

Jungkook didn’t seem to mind. He was already flicking through Netflix titles with the remote, chewing like a man who hadn’t eaten all day.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, eyes still on the screen.

“I actually had dinner not too long ago,” you replied, pouring the Coke into the glasses. “Mum made teriyaki chicken and cheesy tteokbokki.”

He paused and looked over at you with mock betrayal. “Without me?”

"Well sorry but I'm actually her daughter. My mum doesn't need to feed for two kids."

“Tch.” He shook his head. “That’s cold, Y/n. Real cold.”

You handed him a glass and picked up a slice for yourself. “Relax. I can still manage two or three slices. It’s pizza... we make room.”

“That’s the one,” he said, raising his glass like a toast.

You clinked your glass gently against his without thinking, then took a sip.

For a few quiet minutes, the only sounds were the soft hum of the TV, the crinkle of pizza crust, and the shared silence between two people trying not to say everything they were actually thinking.

And as Jungkook scrolled aimlessly through the movie options, mumbling indecisively about rom-coms versus thrillers, you wondered if he was stalling. If maybe, like you, he didn’t want to rush into talking about that night.

Not yet.

Jungkook finally stopped scrolling, landing on some flashy action flick with explosions, car chases, and intense background music already playing in the trailer.

“Ooh,” he said, eyes lighting up. “This one’s got Michael B. Jordan. Heard it’s sick.”

You glanced at the title, fighting the urge to protest. Action wasn’t exactly your go-to, but… Michael B. Jordan was in it. And you weren’t in the mood to start a debate.

“Fine,” you said, biting into another slice. “But only because of him.”

Jungkook smirked knowingly as he hit play. “I mean, who doesn’t have a crush on him?”

You let out a small laugh. “Exactly."

The movie started, the opening scene loud and dramatic, but your focus drifted in and out. Not because it wasn’t good. But because sitting this close to Jungkook again after all that time was... disorienting. The space between you two felt physically small, but emotionally stretched. Like everything that hadn’t been said was sitting in that gap between you, unspoken and waiting.

As the movie played, the two of you exchanged casual commentary. Snarky one-liners, shared reactions when a twist hit, small laughs that softened the air.

“Okay, that was cool,” you muttered after one particularly clean fight sequence.

Jungkook nodded, mouth full of crust. “Right? The stunt work in this is crazy.”

You didn’t look at him when you spoke, and yet you could feel his presence beside you so acutely. It was like your body remembered this closeness even when your brain tried to play it off.

And what you didn’t notice or pretended not to, was how Jungkook kept sneaking glances your way.

They were brief. Almost too quick to catch. The kind of glances that happened in the in-between moments. When you laughed at something on screen, when you reached for another slice, when you tucked your hair behind your ear like you always used to do.

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize something.

Like he missed something.

Like maybe he was finally realizing just how long it had been.

But when you turned your head even slightly, he always looked away. Back to the movie, back to the screen, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position and curling one leg under the other, hugging your knees loosely to your chest. The buzz of the action scene played on, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness, to the way his knee occasionally brushed yours when he moved. Not intentional but not avoided either.

It was almost funny. How the two of you could sit there and pretend to be casual. Like your friendship hadn’t changed at all.

You reached for your Coke, taking a sip, eyes still on the screen.

And beside you, Jungkook smiled to himself. Not because of the movie.

But because you were still here.

And for once. Subconsciously, the bet was at the back of his mind.

The movie was still playing, but neither of you were really following it anymore. The sound of distant gunfire and dramatic dialogue had faded into background noise. Your half-finished glass of Coke sat forgotten on the coffee table, and the warmth of the pizza had long settled in your stomach.

Jungkook shifted beside you, just enough for you to notice.

And then, without looking directly at you, he murmured, “We should probably talk about it.”

You didn’t need to ask what it was. You already knew.

The silence stretched for a second. Maybe two.

Your stomach tightened, and instinctively, you looked away, pretending to focus on the screen. But nothing about the movie held your attention anymore. You drew in a slow breath, steadying yourself.

“Okay... let's talk,” you said, even though you didn’t need to say it out loud.

Jungkook finally turned to face you. His jaw was tense, his brows drawn together in that way they always were when he was working up the nerve to be honest.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That night. After Halmeoni.”

There was no hiding the shift in the room. The mood. The weight of memory.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he added, voice tight with regret. “Not when everything was so raw. Not when I didn’t even know what it meant for me yet.”

You nodded slowly, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your pants. “Yeah. You shouldn’t have.”

The words were sharper than you intended, but not untrue. That kiss had thrown you off balance. Stunned and shocked in a way you hadn't expected. Deep down, you thought he’d say something, explain himself. Instead, after you pulled away first, still trying to make sense of it all, you told him to just drive you home. And once you arrived, he handed you the keys without a word and walked back to his house, leaving you standing alone in the quiet aftermath.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I didn’t mean to mess things up between us.”

“You did, though.”

He looked down, jaw tightening. “I know.”

You sighed, the fight leaving your voice. “I get it, Jungkook. Things have been different. You’re at uni, trying to find your people. Make your own life. You don’t owe me anything.”

He looked up at you then, fast. “But I do. I do owe you something. I owe you more than disappearing on you like that. I owe you the truth.”

You stared at him, letting him speak this time.

“I’ve been acting like I don’t care. But I do. So much,” he said, voice low, shaking slightly with the weight of the admission. “Yes... I’ve been trying to fit in. Trying to keep up with everyone and everything. The guys I hang with, the late nights, the drinking, the parties... I thought if I threw myself into it hard enough, I wouldn’t have time to think about all the things I left behind.”

Your chest ached, but you said nothing.

He leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared down at the floor. “But I still think about you. Even when I don’t message. Even when I pretend not to notice you walking past me on campus. I still care, Y/n. That hasn’t changed.”

You swallowed hard, blinking quickly, your voice soft but steady. “Then why did it feel like I was the only one who did?”

Jungkook looked at you then and it was different. Not the careless glances from across campus corridors. Not the soft stares during movie nights when you were younger. But something that cracked him open just enough for you to see inside.

“I didn’t know how to be both,” he said. “The guy trying to figure out who he is... and the guy who still carries you with him everywhere.”

The room felt so quiet now.

Just the two of you and everything unsaid slowly unraveling between the lines.

Jungkook exhaled, slow and deliberate, like the next words took everything in him to form.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For everything. For pulling away. For confusing you. For not being the friend you deserved. I know I can’t take it back, but…” He paused, eyes locking with yours. “Can you forgive me?”

The question hung in the air, still and fragile.

Your heart tightened painfully, but you carefully masked it, refusing to let it show. And damn, this was exactly what you’d feared. No matter how much you convinced yourself you could stand your ground, Jungkook’s vulnerability cut straight through you.

“Jungkook,” you said, voice quiet but unwavering, “you can’t just come back with two boxes of pizza, flash that smile, and ask for forgiveness like nothing happened.”

He flinched, just slightly. But he nodded. “I know. I get it.”

You sat up straighter, meeting him head-on. “You hurt me. You ignored me. You forgot my damn birthday. Like it didn't matter. Like I didn't."

Sure, missing a birthday isn’t the end of the world. People forget things all the time. But this was different. This was part of the childhood you and Jungkook shared. The small moments that built everything between you. A milestone marking another year of growing up, side by side.

So yeah, him missing your twenty-first birthday was a big deal. A fucking big deal. So screw him.

Jungkook's expression cracked. Just a flicker of guilt and recognition before he dropped his gaze. “You’re right,” he murmured.

“I’m not going to forgive you just like that. You have to earn it,” you said, voice soft but firm. “I’m not going to pretend the past few months didn’t happen. I’m not going to pretend you didn’t change.”

He looked at you again, and this time, something steadier lived behind his eyes. “Then let me try. I don’t want to lose you completely.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what to say, but he cut in gently.

“Maybe we can’t go back to the way things were. Maybe we shouldn’t,” he said, shoulders relaxing slightly. “But what if we start again? Still be friends, but… not like before. No pretending. No lies. Just… moving forward. Together. Making new memories that don’t feel so heavy.”

You stared at him, a swirl of emotions gathering just beneath the surface. There was still hurt. Still doubt. Still all the pieces of you he hadn’t shown up for.

But there was also the boy who used to know you better than anyone.

You took a breath. “If we’re going to be friends again. It has to be honest. And I’m not going to carry it all alone anymore.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t smug. It was grateful.

“Then I’ll be honest. And I’ll show up,” he said.

You nodded once, slowly. “Okay. We’ll see.”

He reached for another slice of pizza, eyes still flickering toward you, this time without guilt. Just quiet hope.

Outside, the sky had gotten darker, but the space between you and him… felt a little more open.

[ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋ] It was the same night Jungkook and his parents were going next door for dinner with your family. But Jungkook lay sprawled on his unmade bed, one arm tucked under his head, the other holding his phone above him, the dim light casting soft shadows on the ceiling.

The group chat was muted, but that didn’t stop him from stealing glances. The flood of messages was exactly what he expected:

Taehyung: yo you guys should check out nayeon's thirst trap on insta Hoseok: fuck i saw that aye. she's gorgeous or should i say... jugs are gorgeous hahaha Jin-hyung: anyone actually studying? lmao Yoongi: let’s get lit next week. I need to black out or drop out. either’s fine at this point. Taehyung: jungkookie, u alive or what? u been ghostin us harder than my dad Namjoon: bet’s still a go right? or did golden boy catch feelings

He locked his phone then, jaw clenched, face blank. He hated that it still got to him. The way they talked about you like you were just another game. And worse, that he hadn’t shut it down from the start. He could still hear your voice in the car after the kiss. “You don’t get to do that.” Like you’d finally seen right through him.

He tossed the phone aside with a groan, covering his face. His chest felt tight ever since that night. Guilty, restless, like no distraction could quiet the ache. And the worst part? The loud music and laughter you’d been hearing through your bedroom wall? That was on purpose.

He turned the volume up knowing you could hear it. Let the bass rattle the silence between you. It was stupid. Immature. But if he couldn’t say what he felt, maybe he could make enough noise to hide from it.

Or maybe, he was hoping you'd hear it and care.

Then a soft buzz.

One new message. Not from the group. But from Jimin.

[Jimin]: yo. u good? been quiet. just checking in. lmk if u need anything

Jungkook stared at it. Didn’t open it. Didn’t reply. But he didn’t look away either.

Then the phone lit up again. Jimin was calling.

One ring. Two. Three.

With a sigh, Jungkook dragged the phone to his ear, answering without a word.

“Bro,” Jimin’s voice came through. It sounded tired but kind. “You gonna keep ghosting me too or what?”

The silence stretched.

“How’s your break going?” Jimin tried again, softer now, like he wasn’t sure how much to push. “I just wanna know if you’re okay. I know when you go quiet, it’s not nothing.”

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, knuckles brushing his temple. He let out a breath that barely passed as a response. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to go through with the bet, you know,” Jimin said gently. “You know how the guys are. Especially Namjoon and Hoseok... they talk big but half the time they're just trying to get under your skin.”

Jungkook scoffed quietly, exhaling through his nose. “It’s whatever. I don’t care.”

Jimin paused. That answer didn’t sit right.

“Yeah,” he said carefully, “but I know you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, eyes narrowing at the ceiling.

“You’re reckless, sure,” Jimin went on, tone lighter but still firm. “You pick fights. You party too hard. You kiss girls you shouldn’t sometimes. But you’re not… cruel, Jungkook.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.

Jimin’s voice dipped lower, more hesitant. “You wouldn’t hurt her just to win something stupid. Not Y/n.”

No answer.

That silence said more than denial ever could.

Jimin let it hang a moment before pressing on. “I’m not saying you have to confess or blow it all up or whatever. But don’t sit there like none of it matters. I saw your face that night. You shut the whole table down when the guys joked about her. Hell, you wouldn’t even let Hoseok shoot his shot.”

That struck. Hard.

Jungkook sat up abruptly, elbows digging into his knees, palm dragging down his face. The pressure behind his eyes was dull but relentless.

“Then what does that say about you, huh?” he asked, voice rough, words coming out before he could stop them.

Jimin blinked. “What?”

“If you know I’m not like that... If you see that, then why’d you bring me around them in the first place?” Jungkook’s voice wasn’t angry, but there was weight behind it. “And why are you still hanging around like it’s all fine? Why are they even your friends, Jimin?”

He paused, words tightening in his throat before spilling out softer, but no less pointed. “Come to think of it… I’ve never even seen you act like them. Not once.”

There was a pause on the other end. Jimin didn’t answer right away.

“They’re my brothers,” he said eventually, voice quiet. “I grew up with most of them. High school, dorms, hell, and Namjoon... he's practically like an older brother to me.”

Jungkook let out a dry laugh. “So what, that means you just look the other way?”

“No,” Jimin replied, more firmly now. “I pick my battles. I speak up when it matters. Like right now.”

Jungkook blinked.

“I know they joke like it’s all just for fun. But I also know when something’s eating at you,” Jimin continued. “And this? Whatever it is… it’s getting to you.”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because Jimin already knew.

“You care about her,” Jimin said softly. “You can lie to them, but you don’t have to lie to me.”

Jungkook stared at the floor, fingers curling around the edge of his hoodie.

He wanted to argue. To deny. To shut it all down.

But he didn’t.

Because for the first time in days, someone wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t treating it like a bet.

Someone actually saw him.

And that, somehow, made everything harder to ignore.

“Look, man,” Jimin said, voice steady, “you’re lucky to have a best friend like Y/n. A childhood friend, someone who knows you inside and out, sees past the noise. Not everyone gets that. Most people don’t get it at all.”

There was a pause, heavy but sincere.

“Whatever you do… don’t fuck it up. You’re the one who gets to choose what kind of person you want to be. Don’t lose her and don’t lose yourself.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, the words sinking deep.

“I’m not here to tell you what to do,” Jimin added quietly. “You already know how I feel. You care about her. You always have, even when you were trying not to. That’s obvious.”

Jungkook stared at the phone like it might answer for him.

“But this is your choice, Jungkook,” Jimin said firmly. “No one else’s. Not mine. Not Namjoon’s. Not the group. Just yours.”

Jungkook’s chest ached less than before. This was what he needed to hear. Not to fix him, not to judge him, but to remind him he still had time.

Time to choose.

Between his pride… and you.

Jungkook helped clear the coffee table, stacking empty glasses and gathering the stray napkins left behind. He didn’t say much, just moved with a quiet ease. Like this wasn’t the first time in a long time that it was just the two of you again. He took the pizza boxes out to the bin, brushing past you with a faint “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned, you were already curled up on one side of the couch, legs tucked underneath you, your phone resting idly in your hand. Jungkook dropped down on the opposite end, leaving a respectable space between you both. Comfortable, but cautious.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you, “how’s uni going? Still dying over those research papers?”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, pretty much. I’ve got one due next week, and my brain just isn’t braining.”

He smiled, the kind that softened the sharp edges of him. “What’s it on?”

“Marketing psychology. How consumer behaviour’s influenced by social proof. It’s interesting but I don’t know... something about the angle I’m taking just feels off.”

Jungkook leaned back slightly, arm resting along the back of the couch. “You want help with it?”

You glanced at him. “You don't take marketing. And there’s no need... I’ve got it.”

“But I want to,” he replied, voice gentle but steady. “If you’re stuck, I could at least look over your outline or something.”

You met his eyes, something wary curling in your chest. “Seriously, it’s fine. I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother,” he said, a bit more firmly this time. “Come on. Just let me help, even if I don't take marketing or may not understand, but who knows.”

You looked at him for a beat, reading the sincerity in his face, the way his expression held no trace of obligation. Just that quiet insistence of someone who still knew you too well.

“…Okay,” you said finally, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a small, satisfied smile.

You stood from the couch, stretching slightly before turning on your heel and heading toward the stairs without saying much.

Jungkook’s eyes followed you, his brows knitting in quiet confusion. “Wait... where are you going?”

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, one foot already on the bottom step. “To study,” you said, your voice steady but edged with something unreadable. “You said you’d help, didn’t you? Or was that just you being nice?”

There was a flicker in his expression. Something between surprise and amusement. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before rising to his feet. “No, I meant it,” he said, his tone softer now.

You gave a small nod and turned, continuing up the stairs. He followed, the air between you both still thick. But there was something else there too... familiarity settling back in like muscle memory.

By the time you reached your room and flicked the light on, it wasn’t comfortable, not quite. But it wasn’t awkward anymore either. Just two people figuring out how to be in the same space again, quietly navigating the in-between.

Jungkook stood silently at the doorway, taking in the familiar warmth of your room. Through your window, he caught a faint glimpse of his own bedroom across the way. A subtle reminder of how intertwined your lives are or had been. Your childhood space looked nearly the same. The same soft-toned walls, the same bookshelf stacked with stories and secrets. But now, your desk was cluttered with scattered uni papers and an overworked laptop plastered with half-faded stickers. A remnants of a different kind of growing up. A few bags lay by the door, clothes and things for had brought with you for the semester break. Everything around him felt like a snapshot of your life. The past, present, real, and lived-in.

And just like that, Jungkook was in your world again. The air held a kind of intimacy. This was the room where you once let him see you for the first time. Not just in the way of laughter and childhood secrets, but in the way skin met skin, and silence meant more than words. Where childhood faded into something tender and complicated. Where secrets were whispered under the covers and teenage hearts beat just a little too fast.

Where the lights were dim, breaths uneven, and everything change. Even if no one dared to say it out loud.

His eyes drifted across your shelves, and then, they landed on something small and familiar tucked behind a candle and a pen holder. It was a worn photobooth strip. He reached for it without thinking, gently sliding it out.

It was the two of you. About twelve years old, grinning wide with chocolate-stained mouths, hair windblown from the amusement park rides. One frame was blurry, the second was of you flashing peace signs, and the last… he remembered it clearly. You were hugging him, both of you laughing so hard your faces were scrunched up.

That day, you’d gotten separated from your parents for nearly an hour. Maybe they were distracted, or maybe Jungkook had just wandered off like the curious kid he was. And you, naturally, had followed. You were panicked, teary-eyed, and scared, but he’d held your hand the entire time until the staff found your parents.

You didn’t let go of his hand for the whole car ride home.

He held the photo up, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

You looked up and instantly tensed. Without a word, you reached out and snatched it from his hands, shoving it back onto the shelf, half-buried again.

“I’m surprised I do,” you muttered under your breath. “Should’ve thrown it out a long time ago.”

The words hit harder than you intended, and you saw it in the way Jungkook’s jaw clenched, the light in his eyes dimming just slightly.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly, the softness gone from his voice now. “Don’t act like it meant nothing.”

You didn’t respond right away. The silence pressed in thick, almost suffocating.

“I’m not saying it meant nothing,” you said finally, your voice tight. “I’m saying I don’t know what it means anymore.”

Jungkook looked at you for a long moment. Not just looking but searching. For understanding, for something to hold onto. But whatever he was hoping to find wasn’t there. Not yet. You letting him up into you room. Your space. This was good.

He looked at the photo, now half-buried on the shelf like a memory you weren’t ready to hold, then back at you. And in that quiet second, something settled in him. An unspoken reckoning.

Stop digging through the ashes, he told himself. Start planting something different.

If he wanted to be in your life again. It couldn’t be through nostalgia or guilt. It couldn’t be about reaching into the past and hoping you'd meet him there. You deserved more than that.

He took a slow breath, grounding himself.

If he wanted a place beside you now, he had to earn it. Patiently. Genuinely. Not with apologies or half-measures, but with presence. With consistency. By showing up for the version of you that stood here today, not the one he left behind.

No shortcuts. No rewinds.

Just small steps forward, steady and sure

Now, he looked at you and saw not the girl he once knew, but a woman. Radiant, grounded, quietly strong. A grown version of Y/n he’d been lucky enough to grow up alongside. But the thought hit him. Could you say the same about him?

Was he someone worth growing up with?

Fuck no, he thought bitterly. He wasn’t the same. Neither of you were, but while you had evolved, found direction, he had become someone else entirely. An ego-driven, impulsive mess. Caught up in his own pride, his own shit choices. Maybe it wasn’t the crowd around him, maybe it wasn’t even the noise of growing up. Maybe the problem was just… him.

Then your voice cut through his spiral, grounding him like it always did.

You pulled out the chair at your desk, flipping open your laptop and motioning toward the mess of half-scribbled notes and open tabs.

“Okay, genius,” you muttered, not even sparing him a glance, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jungkook let out a breathy chuckle as he closed the door halfway and pull a small cushion pink extra chair you had. Jungkook sat down beside you, his shoulder a safe distance from yours, close enough to feel his presence but not so close that it crossed any lines. He glanced at the screen, then at the scattered notes, his fingers tapping lightly against his thigh.

“So this is your outline?” he asked, reaching for one of the pages. His voice was neutral and careful, like he didn’t want to disrupt whatever fragile comfort had settled between you both.

You nodded, tugging your sleeves over your hands. “Yeah. Like I said, I’m trying to build a case around how social proof affects buyer confidence, but it’s feeling kind of flat. Like I’m stating the obvious, you know?”

He scanned the page in silence, eyes moving quickly as he took in your scribbles and bullet points. “I mean… you’ve got the structure down. Maybe it just needs a stronger hook. Something a little more personal to tie it together?”

You glanced at him. “Like an anecdote?”

“Exactly. Something relatable. I know that you always had a way of making theory feel… grounded.”

You looked away at that, eyes flickering toward your laptop as you tried not to react to the unexpected compliment. The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… present.

“Okay,” you murmured, tapping the trackpad. “So say I talk about online reviews. That moment when you’re about to buy something but you hesitate until you see a five-star review from a stranger.”

Jungkook leaned in slightly, nodding. “Yeah. Or even something simple. Like going to a new restaurant just because it’s always full. That’s social proof too.”

You clicked your tongue, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Okay that's a good one, I'll put that down."

Time passed quietly.

It was just focused, steady, full of pencil scratches, keyboard clicks, and the occasional back-and-forth about your topic. You didn’t expect it to go this well. As for Jungkook, for all his cockiness and unpredictability had a mind that knew how to connect dots. How to pull abstract ideas into something clear and grounded. His insight was sharp, his perspective surprisingly thoughtful. He asked questions that made you pause, reframe, rethink.

You found yourself in awe because this is someone who majors in film, not marketing. He had no formal background in this, but still he somehow saw things you didn't. At one point, you caught yourself just watching him. Focused. Leaning over your screen, fingers tapping against his lip as he read through your points.

Something fluttered in your chest. A dull ache... and the occasional butterfly in your stomach you tried to ignore. Because this wasn’t supposed to feel like anything. You weren’t supposed to feel anything.

But it was hard not to, sitting here beside him like this. Close but not touching, breathing the same air, working in quiet sync like nothing had ever gone wrong. Like your childhood best friend, Jeon Jungkook, had never really left... that he’d been here all along.

By the time you closed your laptop with a soft sigh of relief, the clock on your bedside table blinked 8:03 PM. Outside, the moon hung low in the night sky, its pale light filtering through the curtains and casting a gentle glow across your room. You rubbed your temples and leaned back in your chair, shoulders aching but heart lighter than it had been all week.

“Well,” you murmured, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, “I guess I owe you one.”

Jungkook smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Guess you do.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, too late,” he grinned, and for a second, it felt like he was still the boy who used to copy your homework just to spend more time with you.

You stared at him a beat too long before looking away, standing to stretch your legs. You could feel his eyes on you, still soft, still searching.

The truth was, you wanted to believe that this version of Jungkook, the one who was helpful, present, almost gentle, was the real one. Or at least the one that was here to stay.

But somewhere deep inside, a small, persistent voice echoed. Maybe it was Hana's again. Be careful.

And you weren’t sure why. Or maybe you were. Maybe it was the history. The familiarity. The patterns. The way he could pull you in with a look, a joke, a memory. Only to vanish behind that familiar wall of ego once university resumed. To slip back into the embrace of his crowd, the endless parties, the hollow validation he breathed in like oxygen.

You didn’t want to feed into it. You didn’t want to be the girl who got too hopeful, too soon.

So instead, you leaned against your desk and crossed your arms casually, tossing him a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, don’t expect a thank-you parade or anything. I’ll mention you in the footnotes, maybe. Small font.”

Jungkook chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair, but something in his expression faltered. Like he could feel the distance you were keeping. Like he knew exactly what you were doing and maybe even why.

Still, he didn’t push.

And neither did you.

Because this version of things was safe. And that little voice inside your head wasn’t wrong to be cautious. After all, once you were back at uni, who’s to say he wouldn’t go right back to being that guy? The jock with the smirk and the swagger, the one who always left you second-guessing where you stood.

So you tucked that voice away, but not too deep.

Just far enough to enjoy this moment without breaking your own heart over it.

Jungkook shifted slightly in the chair, the silence between you both stretching.

“So…” he began, voice a little softer now.

“Would you maybe be keen to help me with my film theory paper sometime?”

You turned to glance at him, one brow raised.

“I figured since I just saved your grade, maybe you could return the favour,” he added quickly, eyes flicking to yours with a cautious smile. “Or… if not that, maybe you’d want to see what I’ve been working on? Just... I don’t know. No pressure.”

It caught you off guard. Not just the request, but the vulnerability tucked behind it. As if he didn’t just want your help. As if he wanted to show you something. A piece of his world. Let you in.

But before the words could leave your mouth. The front door opened downstairs, followed by the familiar sound of your mum’s voice calling out, “Y/n? We’re home!”

You blinked, straightening. “Oh! mum and dad are back,” you said, glancing toward the doorway as you rose from your seat.

Jungkook nodded and stood too, slower this time, brushing his hands down the front of his pants.

You followed the familiar voices into the kitchen, Jungkook just behind you. Your mum was unpacking a small tote bag while your dad sorted through takeaway containers on the bench.

“How was comedy night?” you asked, leaning casually against the wall, trying not to look like your heart had been racing a little ever since you stepped downstairs.

Your mum looked up with a grin. “Hilarious. Honestly, I haven't laughed that hard in ages.”

“Except when you tripped on the steps during intermission,” your dad added with a chuckle.

“Oh, hush!” she swatted at him playfully before turning to Jungkook. “Your mum, by the way, had the best time. I swear she was wiping tears the entire show.”

Jungkook’s smile widened. “Sounds like her. She would’ve been in her element. She’s got the loudest laugh in any room.”

Your mum nodded, pointing a finger at him. “Oh, she did! And honestly? I think she laughed way more tonight than she ever has at your dad’s jokes.”

Everyone laughed at that. Even your dad, who threw his hands up in faux surrender. “Brutal.”

You found yourself watching Jungkook again. The way he blended so effortlessly into your home, your family.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth chatter about the show, the parking, your mum’s snack hoarding. Jungkook shifted his weight and cleared his throat gently.

“I should probably head back,” he said, glancing at the time on the microwave. "Really enjoyed tonight." Jungkook says more to you.

Your parents both waved him off warmly.

“Alright son.” your dad said.

“Thanks again Jungkook” your mum added.

Jungkook smiled and looked at you, eyes warm. “Bye, Y/n,” he said, then paused just a second longer. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You blinked. “Tomorrow?”

He raised a brow, amused. “Mrs. Kwon’s retirement party? The errands? Your mum said you and I are in charge of the list.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. Right. Your mum had mentioned that to you today.

“Oh... yeah,” you nodded quickly, recovering. “Of course. Tomorrow."

Jungkook gave you a crooked grin at your awkwardness before bending down to put his shoes back on near the front door. Your parents had wandered off to the living room by then, leaving just the two of you again.

He opened the front door, stepping one foot onto the porch. Then suddenly stopped as you called out, “Wait!”

You stepped forward, reaching for his arm without thinking. Your fingers curled around his sleeve, stopping him in place.

He turned back slowly, eyes searching yours, and you knew he could feel it. The heat rising off your skin, the way your touch lingered, hesitant and unsure. The night air felt cooler in contrast to the warmth pulsing between your hand and his arm.

He didn’t speak. Just waited patiently.

“I’ll help you,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“With the film theory stuff,” you clarified, eyes dropping briefly before meeting his again. “I’ll help.”

A flicker of something soft passed through his expression. Jungkook gave you a quiet nod, the corners of his lips tugging up into a small smile.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, voice lower now. “Really.”

You let go of his sleeve slowly.

“Good night, Y/n.”

And with that, he stepped off the porch and into the quiet evening, hands in his pockets, smile still lingering, and you stood there for a moment longer, the imprint of his presence still pressed into the air around you.

You walked back inside slowly, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The house was calm now, your parents now probably in their room, calling it a night.

You headed upstairs, your room exactly as you left it. Laptop open, notes scattered, that damn photobooth strip still half-tucked behind the candle. You paused in front of it, chewing your bottom lip before slowly pulling it out again. The faces in the photo smiled up at you, frozen in a moment that felt both impossibly far and painfully close.

You sighed.

You wanted to believe in second chances. You really did.

But as you set the photo down again. Not hiding it this time, just letting it sit there, exposed. And just as you were about to step away from your desk, your phone suddenly buzzed.

This time, the message preview made your stomach drop and flutter.

[Jungkook]: You should probably close your curtains unless you actually want me to see you

You froze mid-step, eyes widening. Slowly, instinctively, you glanced toward your window. And sure enough, across the way, Jungkook was standing at his bedroom window, phone in hand, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He gave a small wave, smug and warm, the kind that screamed gotcha.

You rolled your eyes, flustered but smiling despite yourself. Your fingers hovered over your screen before you started typing back.

[You]: Goodnight, creep.

You hit send and watched as he read it almost immediately. He didn’t reply back but you caught his slight nod through the glass before he pulled his curtains closed.

You drew your own curtains shut slowly, the quiet click echoing in the room. The tension lingered, heavy and unresolved but somehow, it was exactly where it needed to be.

[ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋ] It was a Friday night when Jungkook invited you to meet some of the guys he'd been out with more lately. From your knowledge and from what Jungkook had mentioned to you. Two of them also major in film and the others from either Hospitality Management, Communications, Health Science and Performing Arts. Over time, Jungkook had gradually made his way into the frat scene. He started hanging out and studying with them more often, eventually moving into a shared house just off campus. The kind of place where every surface felt a little sticky and the music never really stopped, even on weeknights.

You had hesitated.

This wasn’t your scene. And more than that, these weren’t your people. You knew it the second Jungkook described them with that offhand, casual tone. Like he was trying not to sound like he cared too much about fitting in with them. Like maybe he already did.

But still, you went. Because he asked. Because part of you wanted to understand this new world he was drifting toward. The one that seemed to pull him further away from you each week.

When you arrived, the place was buzzing. Music thumped through the walls, people you didn’t recognize moved in and out of rooms like currents, red solo cups in hand, someone shouting over a beer pong table in the back. It was far from the quiet hangouts you were used to with Jungkook. This wasn’t his bedroom, or your porch swing, or even his car with the windows down and some soft R&B playing. This was his world now, or at least the one he chose to show you tonight.

Jungkook led you in, hand briefly brushing yours. Not enough to hold, but enough to steady you. Like old times.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured. “They’re chill.”

You gave a tight nod, trying to suppress the rising awkwardness as he brought you to the group sprawled across the couches.

“Yo,” Jungkook called out. “This is her. My good friend, Y/n.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking between you and the guys. “We’ve known each other forever.”

A scattered chorus of hellos followed, laced with low chuckles and exchanged glances. You noticed Namjoon eyeing you with mild curiosity before lifting his drink in a lazy toast.

Jin, already tipsy, leaned forward with a lopsided grin. “This Kook’s girl? Damn, no wonder he dips early sometimes. She’s cute.”

Jungkook laughed it off, shaking his head. “She’s like my little sister. Practically family.”

Your stomach turned a little. Little sister wasn’t the label you expected or wanted. But you kept your smile in place, even as your chest tightened.

Then came him. Hoseok, all charm and mischief, sauntering in from the kitchen with a beer in hand and an easy smile stretched across his face.

“Ah,” he said, eyes landing on you like he’d just discovered something interesting. “So this is the famous Y/n”

“Famous?” you echoed, unsure.

Jungkook chuckled nervously. “They’ve just heard me mention you, that’s all.”

Throughout the night, you stuck close to Jungkook’s side as he navigated through the crowd, stopping now and then to introduce you. And then you met Jimin.

You’d only heard a little about Jimin from Jungkook.

Jungkook had mentioned him offhandedly. Just a guy he met at a club event, someone who quickly became part of his inner circle. He didn’t say much beyond “Jimin’s cool. We just clicked, I guess.” But the way Jungkook spoke about him, with an ease he rarely used for new people, made you curious. You were happy for him. Genuinely. Especially knowing how selective he could be about who he let close. Still, you couldn’t help but be a little surprised. This was Jungkook now. Frat mode activated, surrounded by a crew of wildly different personalities, and somehow fitting right in.

Jimin was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, radiating warmth with that easy smile of his. When Jungkook introduced you. “Yo Jimin, this is Y/n."

You noticed the flicker in Jimin’s eyes. He stepped forward, offering his hand with that easy charm. “Hey, I’m Jimin. Park Jimin."

You blinked, a little thrown by how warm he seemed, and how intently he was looking at you. “Yeah… I’ve heard some things about you.”

His smile tugged wider, just bordering on playful. “Good things, right?”

You shrugged, half-teasing. “Guess that depends on who’s telling the story.”

Jungkook let out a short laugh beside you, rubbing the back of his neck again like he always did when things edged toward awkward or interesting.

Jimin laughed, stepping closer. "And same here, Jungkook talks about you all the time."

“Really? like what?” you asked, curious.

He grinned. “I'll say it's confidential. But don't worry Jungkook speaks of good things."

You laughed, a little flustered. “I hope he does.”

Just then, Jungkook leaned toward you, gently touching your arm. “I’ll be right back. Just gotta take care of something upstairs,” he said, nodding in that direction.

You hesitated, unsure whether you really wanted to be left alone in a room full of mostly strangers. But before you could say anything, Jimin caught the shift in your expression.

“I got you,” he said easily. “Promise. You won’t even notice he’s gone.”

Something about the way he said it made you feel just a little more at ease.

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook said, giving Jimin a quick nod before moving his way past people and heading upstairs.

With him gone, the atmosphere subtly shifted. Less pressure, more ease. Jimin had a way of pulling you into conversation so naturally that before long, the awkwardness faded. The vibe turned playful, the exchange of words coming without effort. Still, your mind drifted now and then, eyes flicking toward the stairs to check if Jungkook was coming back.

But as the minutes passed, you found yourself relaxing. Jimin was good company. Surprisingly so.

“A myth?” you echoed, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded, eyes playful. “Like this mysterious best friend he’s known forever who ‘just gets him’ and ‘knows too much.’ Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you were real or a ghost from his past.”

You smirked. “I guess I’m real enough.”

He offered you a drink, which you politely declined, and then leaned against the counter beside you, still clearly intrigued.

“So… childhood best friends, huh? That’s wild. How far back are we talking?”

You smiled. “Since babies. Our moms were friends before we were even born. We kind of… grew up side by side.”

Jimin let out a soft, impressed whistle. “Damn. That’s something else.”

“It is,” you nodded, your voice a little softer now. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

Jimin turned slightly to face you, genuinely curious. “That kind of connection… I love that. Someone who just knows you. Your moods, your weird habits, your history. That kind of constant. It’s rare.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “You never had that growing up?”

He shook his head. “Moved around too much. Friends came and went. Made great ones, sure but nothing that stuck like that. Nothing… unconditional.”

The air between you settled into something quieter, more thoughtful. You felt him watching you, not in a way that made you uncomfortable, but in a way that made you feel seen.

“You and Jungkook ever…?” he started, then hesitated.

You raised an eyebrow. “Ever what?”

He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, that’s probably nosy. I just... Jungkook’s talked about you like you’re this constant in his life. I was just curious.”

You glanced across the room, where Jungkook stood talking to someone, though his eyes occasionally flicked over to you.

“It’s complicated,” you said finally. “We’ve always been close. But I don't ever picture going further with him. We are like family." You lied, well partly lied.

Jimin nodded slowly, taking that in. “That makes sense. Still… it must be hard. Being so close to someone for so long and never really knowing what could’ve been.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t have to.

He saw the answer in your eyes.

Before he could say more, Jungkook reappeared at your side, arm brushing yours as he leaned in. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Just talking.”

Jimin gave Jungkook a friendly smile. “She’s great, man. You didn’t tell me your best friend was this interesting.”

Jungkook gave a small smirk, eyes lingering on you for a beat too long. “She’s a lot of things.”

You couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or a warning. Maybe both.

And just like that, the quiet moment with Jimin dissolved back into the noise of the party. But something had changed. You could feel it. For Jimin, maybe it was finally being able to put a name and a story, to the girl behind all the mentions. And for you, it was a flicker of something unexpected.

And for Jungkook… well, maybe noticing Jimin’s attention, leaned down to you and asked, “Wanna go upstairs? I wanna show you my room.”

You gave Jimin a small smile and excused yourself, following Jungkook up the stairs with a curious kind of comfort tugging at your chest.

His door was slightly ajar when you reached it, and you hesitated for just a second before pushing it open.

This was probably what he’d been doing up here. Tidying up. Resetting the space a little. The faint scent of clean linen lingered in the air, and the trash bin was newly empty. His bed was made, sheets pulled tight like it was something he rarely did but felt like doing tonight, just because you were here.

His room wasn’t anything special, it very him. But it was quiet, familiar in its own way, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you were back in your own little world again.

It stopped you at the door.

The lighting was soft, almost dreamy. Purple LED strips lined the top shelf and cast a glow over the whole space, painting everything in a wash of calm lavender. It made the white of his plain tee look crisper. The corners of the room felt tucked away from the world, safe.

The bed was low and made, with dark sheets and a single hoodie draped over the back of his chair. A tangle of earbuds peeked from beneath a pillow. And on the wall above the headboard, LED stars were pinned like constellations. A little soft. A little romantic. Like him. And it felt strangely intimate to be standing in the middle of it.

Your eyes drifted to the shelf beside his desk, where the purple LED glow softly illuminated a small, silver picture frame. It was tilted slightly, like it had been picked up and put back down more than once. You stepped closer.

It was a photo of you and Jungkook. Years ago. The two of you maybe thirteen, maybe even younger. You were both barefoot in the grass, sun in your eyes, your arm slung lazily around his shoulders, his grin wide and boyish, two teeth slightly crooked before braces straightened them out. Your head was tilted toward him, like gravity had always pulled you in that direction.

You stared at it.

And suddenly, the quiet in the room felt heavier. Not peaceful. Not warm.

Just quiet.

Because when was the last time you felt like that with him? Like his gravity hadn’t faltered? When was the last time he laughed with you like you were still the most familiar part of his day?

You didn’t notice he’d moved until he was right beside you, gaze locked not on the photo, but on your expression.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You didn’t answer. Just stepped back slightly, arms crossed loosely over your chest. The weight of the past few weeks. Him not showing up, his dry one-word replies, settled between you like fog.

He saw it now. You watched him realize it.

Jungkook reached out slowly and took your hand.

You blinked, startled at the sudden gentleness.

“Come here,” he murmured.

He led you to the edge of his bed and sat down with you, his fingers still wrapped loosely around yours. You didn’t pull away. You just… waited.

He exhaled hard through his nose, staring down at your intertwined hands like they were something breakable.

“I’m sorry,” he started, voice low. “For the past few weeks. For being distant. For leaving you on seen. For acting like I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

You didn’t say anything, and it made him press on.

“I didn’t mean to disappear. I just... I don’t know. Everything’s been moving so fast lately. New people. New expectations. And I guess I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I thought I could juggle it all. I thought maybe you didn’t need me the way you used to.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

And he looked lost in the kind of way only someone you’ve known your whole life could look.

“That’s the thing, Jungkook,” you said quietly.

He swallowed hard, thumb brushing against your knuckles like muscle memory.

“I miss you,” you said. "I just miss my best friend. I just needed you to show up.... I mean you could've communicated better."

Jungkook wanted to say that he misses you too. God, he did. But his throat felt tight, caught between regret and something unspoken that hung in the air like fog.

Instead, he just nodded, once. You both sat there, side by side on the edge of his bed, your hands still tangled loosely like old routines you didn’t know you missed until they came back.

For a moment, it felt okay again.

Not fixed.

But… okay.

That is, until the door burst open without warning.

“Yo!”

Loud laughter and heavy footsteps flooded in as Hoseok and Taehyung barged in, completely oblivious to the shift they’d just shattered.

“Damn, Kook!” Hoseok grinned, not even pretending to be apologetic as he flopped into Jungkook’s desk chair like it was his own. “Didn’t think you were bringing your girl up here already.”

Taehyung whistled low under his breath, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorframe. “We interrupting something?”

Jungkook shot them both a flat look, clearly not in the mood for their timing. “Can you not?”

But Hoseok just smirked, spinning slowly in the chair. “Relax, man. You could’ve just put a sock on the door or something.”

Taehyung grinned at you, a little sheepish. “Hey Y/n, hope you're enjoying the party so far.”

You offered a tight smile, trying to pretend your hand hadn’t just been in Jungkook’s. Slowly, you pulled it back into your lap.

Jungkook noticed.

And even through the interruption, the noise, the teasing. His eyes didn’t leave you.

Hoseok leaned back in Jungkook’s chair, arms behind his head like he was settling in for a show. “Anyway,” he said, smirking like he knew exactly what kind of moment he’d walked in on, “you two should come downstairs. Namjoon’s been pacing around like he’s hosting a TED Talk and no one’s listening.”

Taehyung laughed. “Yeah, he’s already asked where you were like… three times.”

Hoseok grinned wider, adding, “Don’t want to make him jealous now, Kook. You’ve got your favorite girl up here, and poor Joon’s left babysitting the beer pong table alone.”

Jungkook groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “God, you’re annoying.”

“But endearing,” Hoseok said brightly.

“You wish.”

You tried to hide the smile tugging at your lips, but it was hard. The shift in mood was jarring, but maybe needed. You could still feel the weight of what had been said between you and Jungkook lingering like warmth in the air… but it didn’t feel like it had been erased. Just… shelved for now.

Taehyung tilted his head toward you. “You coming?”

You glanced at Jungkook, unsure if you should stay or give him space. But he caught your eye and gave you the smallest nod. Like he was saying Don’t go just yet. Not like that.

So you stood. Smoothed your hands over your jeans and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I’ll come.”

Jungkook got up too, his hand brushing the small of your back for a second. So quick it could’ve been nothing, but you felt it anyway.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

The four of you filed out of the room, and as you reached the top of the stairs, Jungkook leaned a little closer, voice low, just for you.

“We’ll talk more later,” he said. “Promise.”

You looked at him, heart doing that familiar ache again.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And somehow… you believed him.

Eventually, all of you headed back downstairs. Jimin was nowhere to be found. But even in the chaos, being by Jungkook’s side again after days of him pulling away gave you a sliver of happiness. You tried to hold onto that.

The boys were all talking over each other. Namjoon throwing out a plan for Korean BBQ after class tomorrow, Taehyung already texting someone to reserve a table. Hoseok started talking about some girl he’d hooked up with last week, and the conversation veered toward crude jokes and casual bragging. You didn’t say much. You were starting to feel out of place.

That’s when you noticed it.

Jungkook, who, you’d say, normally thrived in this chaos, usually loud and quick with comebacks seemed… distant. His laugh was a second too late. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. And every now and then, you caught him staring off at nothing.

It was subtle. But you saw it. And it made your stomach stir.

And then Hoseok leaned over, voice just loud enough to cut through the din. “Yo, you mind if I get a pass?”

Jungkook blinked. “Huh?”

“You know… with Y/n.” Hoseok jerked his chin toward you. “She’s hot. I’d fuck her.”

At first, you didn’t register it. The background noise blurred it out. But when you saw Hoseok’s eyes land on you, that smirk curling at the edges of his mouth, it hit you. The words slammed into your chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

And Jungkook?

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even hesitate.

He just shrugged. “By all means.”

The group roared with laughter, the sound swallowing everything. But not for you. For you, time stopped.

You stood there, frozen.

What? you breathed, the word barely forming on your lips.

You turned to him, waiting desperately for something. A joke. A correction. An apology. A flicker of the person who just stood next to you upstairs, who said Promise.

But he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t even look at you.

And you… you were too stunned to speak. Too stunned to even fathom how fast he had switched up. How the boy who made his room feel like home moments ago could reduce you to a punchline like it meant nothing.

Like you meant nothing.

You didn’t want to scream or cause a scene, but the curse words spilled out faster than your mind could keep up with. Your chest burned and your throat tightened as you turned away, weaving through the crowd, desperate to hold back tears. You just needed to get out.

And just as you reached the door, weaving through strangers, a hand gently but firmly grabbed your arm.

It was Jimin.

He looked surprised at first, like he hadn’t expected to catch you leaving so soon. “Hey,” he said, a half-smile on his lips. “Already heading out?”

Then he saw your face. The smile dropped. “Hey… are you okay?”

You couldn’t look at him. Not at first. But eventually, you met his eyes, and he looked so concerned, so sincere, that you had to answer. “Yeah,” you lied. “Just getting late. I’ve got an early class.”

He didn’t believe you, you could tell. But he didn’t press. “It was nice finally meeting you,” he said softly.

“Likewise,” you murmured, your voice small.

You slipped out the door before the tears could break free, the cool night air hitting your face like a shock as you tried to steady your breathing. The ache in your chest was raw, threatening to spill over, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to move forward.

Behind you, Jimin made his way back to the group, slipping into the familiar chaos.

“Where’d you disappear to?” Taehyung grinned, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder. “You missed Hoseok’s thirsty ass.”

Jimin raised a brow. “What happened?”

“Hobi thought Y/n was cute,” Taehyung snorted. “Asked if he could hit.”

“What?” Jimin blinked.

“Yeah,” Taehyung laughed harder, clearly buzzed. “Well Kook didn’t even care. Seems like he doesn’t really care for her as much as he says he does.”

Jimin’s smile didn’t return.

His gaze slid across the room until it landed on Jungkook, who was slouched deep into the couch like he wanted to disappear. One leg bouncing. Cup in hand. Not drinking. Not talking. Just... elsewhere.

Avoiding eye contact. With himself. With everyone.

Jimin watched him quietly, head tilting slightly.

He and Jungkook were just two years apart, but sometimes it felt like more. Still, somewhere along the way, maybe between club events or late-night cramming. He started thinking of Jungkook as someone solid. A little brother, who at time can be annoying, impulsive, big-hearted. But good.

And yet, even now, with all the noise and music, Jimin felt it. The faint flicker of envy. Because Jungkook had you. Had grown up with you. Someone by his side since childhood.

That kind of connection? That kind of loyalty?

The truth was, Jimin used to have that too. A long time ago.

He's never told anyone, not even the guys. But sometimes, late at night, he still remembered the sound of her laughter echoing in empty spaces, the way she used to loop her arm through his and call him her person. Her safe place.

You reminded him of her, in a strange, aching kind of way.

Same softness. Same fire. Same way of looking at the world like it owed her answers and she wasn’t afraid to demand them.

But where that story of his ended, left something hollow in its place. He never talks about it. Never says her name out loud anymore. Not since...

Jimin’s jaw clenched. He blinked hard.

“You idiot,” he muttered, eyes still on Jungkook.

He didn’t even know who he was talking to anymore. Jungkook. Himself. The universe.

Maybe all of them.

#bangtan #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts scan #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut

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zorange13 · 3 days ago

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— love island, enhypen edition: for jake, xoxo (teaser)

this is a teaser of jake’s story in my love island, enhypen edition “series.” (ig lmao??) so i highly suggest you read that first to get an understanding of what’s happening here!

wc. tba. (1.5k for this teaser)

release date. also tba... (but here's sumn to keep y'all fed for a minute!)

pairing. islander! jake sim x reader

author’s note (please read): i just made up names for the girls (aside from y/n ofc) i’m sorry, i just really didn’t want to use “[member’s girl]” because that would be annoying to keep doing. but of course, you’re free to imagine them as you like.

— Two months later

Since the reunion, things have been great. Steady, yet invigorating and every single day has been something new. Fortunately, your brand has grown exponentially and you’d been collaborating with companies and brands you had never imagined.

You were an ambassador for one of your favorite skincare brands, Topicals. Attending women’s panels, Alo and Aritzia have been dressing you. Encouraging people to take part in positive causes around the world and communities. With the platform you gained, you truly did want to use it for good.

Very quickly did you become a princess and so beloved by the Love Island fanbase alongside other people that didn’t even watch the show.

You were comfortable and slowly but surely things were easing up. You did have to filter your comments to fully let go of any and all mentions of your prior connection with you know who. It just got so irritating having people constantly mention such a traumatic moment in your life. Imagine you post something about your workout routine and someone still finds a way to make it about the person that did you wrong.

Nonetheless, you were coasting through life and you haven’t heard from thou who shall not be named.

But speaking of that!

Jake has sort of disappeared off the face of the earth.

His socials have had very minimal activity, not so much to make one worry. But whenever he did post, it would be travel posts or fun little stuff. Nothing too insane but he’s done a good job at staying out of the way because that’s the best thing he could’ve done for himself.

His comments still had you all over them, he didn’t have to heart to filter them. He loved your name. Fuck, he loved to see your name and in some way, he felt that he deserved to constantly be reminded of his wrongdoings. Jake felt he deserved punishment and part of it was ensuring he had a reminder.

He followed you, you didn’t follow him back but he kept up with you consistently and was heavy in your likes. And of course fans noticed. They always did.

But this fateful day, you were hanging out with Nina and Amani at Amani’s apartment, legs curled under you on the couch as a candle flickered in the center of the coffee table. You were scrolling on your phone halfheartedly when Nina suddenly gasped, nearly knocking her smoothie over.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my—dude what the fuck.”

Your head whipped around. “What?”

Amani leaned over her shoulder. “What is it?”

Nina looked up slowly, eyes wide with disbelief and a dangerous glint of amusement. “Jake. On a podcast. Talking about you.”

You blinked. “You’re joking.”

“No,” she said, spinning the screen to face you. And there it was—Jake’s face in a thumbnail for The Soul Tied Podcast, a popular show known for dragging Love Island alumni into messy little therapy sessions disguised as interviews. It had been posted three hours ago and was already trending. The caption?

“I’d do anything for her.”

— Jake, on his Love Island regret

You swallowed. Your throat suddenly dries. Amani was already clicking play.

The video cut to a dimly lit studio, Jake sitting across from the host with his leg bouncing like he wanted to run out the room. But it was the look in his eyes that made your chest feel tight. Soft. Vulnerable. Real.

The host leaned in, elbows on the table. “So if you could fix anything or take anything back during your experience, what would it be?”

Jake exhaled slowly, like the words weighed too much. Then, simply: “I’d say that…I’m sorry again. That I wish I can make things right and there isn’t a day that I don’t think about her. Really…even now knowing everything that I did to Y/n, I’d do anything for her. Not even to be with her. Like if I had the chance I would but I just want to make this right. If she’d let me.”

Silence. Then, the host, brows raised:

“So…her?”

Jake didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”

Nina burst out in laughter. “What the fuck, yo he’s insane. This boy is still in love, it’s so sad.” She tossed the phone to the side, her laughter dying down as she realized she was the only one laughing. “Wait…sorry,” she exhaled sharply, closing her eyes to stabilize herself. “Are you okay, mama?” Her voice softened as she reached for your hand.

You squeezed her hand, forgiving her because this was just how she is. Nina laughs at all the things she shouldn’t be. But this was her way of trying to break up the awkwardness. In her mind, as long as someone’s laughing it’s going to be okay. Simply her coping mechanism: she was hurting for you and the best way to not make it seem so bad or stir up negative feelings, she tried to laugh to not make it as big as it was.

You saw that, and you still loved her for it. “I’m good, just weirded out.”

Amani rested her head on Nina's shoulder. “You sure? You’re allowed to be upset.”

“Not upset…I’m over it and I’ve sort of healed from it. But I just think he might be fishing, I don’t know.” You scoffed as you leaned back into the couch.

Nina scooted closer, slowly so Amani can move with her—and rested her hand on your arm. “He is. He’s an asshole that can wallow in his misery because he fumbled the most gorgeous and phenomenal woman in front of everyone. His ego can’t let him live it down.” She adjusted herself to lean her head on your shoulder and lock her arm around yours. “He’s a dick.”

Nina was always the one to write people off. Quickly. Prior to her relationship with Jungwon, she had undergone a very toxic, one-sided relationship that ended in cheating. Once she had gathered herself from that, she signed up for the show and met the most amazing guy. In a way, she got lucky. She won (no pun intended) in her heart and to see someone she got so close to, you, one of her best friends leave so scarred and hurt, really fucked her up. Because she was not one for second chances and she would be damned if one of the closest people in her life got hurt by the same guy again!

Amani sighed, feeling like she was stuck in the middle. Her loyalty was with you absolutely, but she was nothing if not understanding and perceptive. She saw the bordering desperation in Jake’s eyes and she, however, didn’t want to just write him off completely.

You looked at Amani, waiting to hear her opinion. She always balanced very well and did her best to ensure everyone saw all sides, very diplomatic. But right now, the cogs in her mind were spinning, turning like a well oiled machine and she was seriously at war within herself.

“What’s up with you?” You whisper with a sympathetic frown.

Amani looked at you with a furrowed brow. Taken aback that during this moment that was about you, you still looked at her with care. As if she was the one that needed support. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” She shook her head. “I…I don’t really know what to make of this either.” She huffs as she adjusts her shiny Cartier bracelet that Jay got for her, sliding it down her wrist and fumbling it in her fingers. “It’s like I want to side with Nina and say screw it, he doesn’t deserve you—because truly he doesn’t. At this point, no one does—no one will ever be good enough for you in my eyes. But…I just—” She pauses and huffs again as she’s doing her best to find the right words.

You nod in anticipation. “It’s okay, just spit it out.”

She nods, “I can’t even fully tell if he’s being genuine. My intuition and affinity for body language tells me he is and he’s been very apologetic verbally. But I really don’t want to risk you getting hurt or even getting your hopes up only for him to possibly let you down again.”

You sat quietly, processing Amani’s words. Her honesty was very apparent—because if anyone could read a situation, it was her. Always level-headed, always watching. But that was what scared you. If she wasn’t sure, then how could you be?

“I don’t even want him back,” you said, not quite convincingly.

“Mm,” Nina mumbled, unconvinced herself.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t. I just…I don’t want to look back on this one day and think I didn’t at least consider the possibility that he changed. That maybe…I didn’t need to hate him.”

Amani gave your arm a light squeeze. “That’s valid. Just don’t let him talk his way into your heart again without proving a damn thing.”

“Exactly,” Nina added, “because ‘I’d do anything for her’ sounds good and poetic in a dim-ass podcast studio. Or even a YA novel, or some cheesy Tumblr fanfic. But love isn’t performative. Love is action, though. And if he means it, then he'd be showing you.”

#enhypen x reader #kpop x black reader #enhypen fic #enhypen #jake sim #sim jake x reader #sim jake #sim jaeyun x reader #love island fic #sim jaeyun

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fullsunstrawberry · 5 hours ago

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pairings: Brother Best Friend Haechan x Virgin Reader (hints of Jeno x reader and Sungchan x reader)

summary: When you sets out to finally lose your virginity, your mission is simple—until your older brother’s best friend steps in, vowing to be your personal chastity belt. After a fight he makes it his mission to get his revenge... by blocking every hookup attempt you makes. But the more he interferes, the more complicated things get and suddenly, the line between rivalry and something more starts to blur.

content warning: It's okay to be a virgin this was just for the plot (im literally still a virgin), drinking, talks of cheating but no actual cheating, heavy make-outs, grinding, jealousy, haechan cockblocking twice, virgin reader, experienced haechan, reader being a brat, condom mentioned (shout out! wrap it up), cunninglingus, use of the words 'heat' 'breast', overall fluffy vanilla smut.

word count: 20.4k (im sorry-)

authors note: posting this before my 21st birthday tm! (3rd) <3

Mark had finally done it, he graduated college. You felt a mix of pride and relief. Watching him walk across that stage was huge for your family, but part of you couldn’t help but feel...free. The constant hovering, the big brother act—it was over. At least for now.

You weren’t just Mark’s little sister anymore. It was your turn to live.

Sophomore year was your fresh start. No more rules, no more curfews. You could go out, stay out, party, drink—and maybe even lose your virginity. You weren’t rushing, but it felt like the right time to start making memories that were actually yours and not just stuff you’ve read in fanfics.

When Mark decided to travel after graduation, his apartment opened up. He offered his room to you to help with rent. At first, you weren’t sure—but it made sense. More freedom than a dorm, and you already knew the guys that frequently hang out there: Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung. Mark’s best friends. Your honorary older brothers. They always made you feel welcome, even if they were just as protective as Mark.

Haechan, Mark’s roommate, was the best one to live with out of the his friend group—party guy, always out, kept the shared space clean. As long as your noise canceling headphones worked, living with him didn’t seem like a bad deal.

Before leaving, Mark said, “If you need anything, my friends are around. They’ve got your back.”

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t need a babysitter. But you knew it came from a good place. They all cared, whether Mark said it or not.

So, you moved in. The apartment was way better than your old dorm. Spacious, cozy, and most importantly yours. Your room had a big window—that you could actually open, unlike the school “anti suicide” protection ones—

Those first few weeks of settling in were exactly what you’d hoped for. Late nights, new people, freedom. No one checking in, no one to tiptoe around. Just you, your own schedule, and finally, a life that felt like it belonged to you.

It was everything you hoped for!

You’d been out with friends, as usual—drinks, dancing, laughing—but when you came home, something felt off. You walked into the apartment, expecting it to be quiet, but there was a light on in the living room. Haechan was sitting on the couch, his face serious as he looked up when you entered.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice calm but with a weight to it.

“We need to talk.”

You froze for a moment, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You were tired and your head hurt, already exhausted with how much socializing you just did.

“What’s up?” you asked, your tone already on edge. You could tell this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation.

Haechan patted the seat next to him, his expression serious. “Sit down. This is important.”

You reluctantly dropped your bag by the door and plopped onto the couch, crossing your arms.

“You’ve changed,” Haechan said bluntly, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “You used to be so quiet, so reserved. You liked staying in, reading, gaming, and just hanging out with a small set of friends. But now? You’re out every night, partying, getting home at God knows what hour. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

You felt a jolt of anger rise in your chest at his words. You hadn’t expected this. Sure, you’d been out a lot lately, but was it really that big of a deal? You weren’t doing anything wrong.

“I’m just living my life, Haechan. What’s your problem with that?”

Haechan didn’t back down. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s not about you living your life. It’s that you’re changing into someone you’re not. I’m just worried you’re losing yourself. You used to be so different, and now you’re pushing yourself into a life you don’t even seem to want. You’re not the same Y/n I used to know.”

Frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t a little girl anymore. Yeah, you were more introverted than most people. You liked staying in and finding different hobbies like reading, cross-stitching, knitting, and playing board games. But you don’t see a problem with trying to branch out and make some experiences. You haven’t even kissed someone in years!

“I’m not changing, Haechan,” you shot back, your voice getting louder. “I’m just doing what I want for once. I’m in college now. I can go out and have fun. I’m not hurting anyone or myself, so why does it matter?”

“It matters because you’re pushing yourself into this wild party girl persona that isn’t you,” he argued, his voice soft but earnest. “You don’t need to change who you are to have fun. You don’t have to lose yourself to experience college. You’re better than this.”

His words stung. Was he right? You don’t even care, who is he to tell you who you are! You felt the anger bubble up higher in your chest, and before you knew it, you were standing up, pacing the small space in front of the couch.

“You think you know me so well, don’t you? You think just because I’m going out and having fun, that means I’m ‘losing myself’?” You shot a pointed glance at him. “Maybe I’m just finally doing what I want to do. Mark or you don’t get to decide who I am or who I should be!”

Haechan stood up too, frustration flashing in his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying! I just don’t want you to regret this, Y/n. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t throw away everything that made you... well, you.”

You could feel your pulse racing, your heart pounding in your chest. He was trying to tell you what you should be doing with your life, and you weren’t about to let him dictate that.

“You don’t get it! I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything. Maybe I’ve just been stuck in the same box for too long. Maybe I just want to have some damn fun for once without everyone treating me like a baby!”

There was a tense silence between you two, the air thick. Haechan’s face softened a little, but you could see the hurt in his eyes. “I’m not judging you, Y/n. I’m just trying to look out for you. I’m your friend, okay? I care about you. But I can’t just watch you spiral into something I don’t recognize.”

You shook your head, feeling a tight knot form in your throat. You didn’t want to hear this. “You’re Mark’s friend not mine!” You snapped, your voice almost a shout.

You stood there, staring at him. You could feel your heart racing, the adrenaline still rushing through your veins. But as Haechan’s expression faltered, something in you twisted—something unfamiliar, something you didn’t want to deal with right now.

His eyes widened, lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out. The silence between you two felt loud, thick, and uncomfortable, making the air around you heavy.

You stood there, your hands clenched by your sides, unwilling to back down. You had said what you needed to say, hadn’t you? Haechan was just your brother’s friend, right? That’s all he was, no matter how much he tried to play the protective older brother role. You didn’t need him to look out for you. You didn’t need anyone but yourself.

But then you saw it, something you hadn’t expected. The hurt that flashed in his eyes. The quick, sharp breath he took, like he was trying to process your words, like you’d just physically hurt him. It made something inside you twist painfully.

You wanted to take it back. You wanted to apologize, to say that wasn’t what you meant. But the pride in you wouldn't let it happen. Instead, you just stood there, the anger still lingering inside of you.

Haechan opened his mouth again, his voice quieter now, as if unsure of what to say. “Y/n, I—” But he stopped, his words dying before he could get them out.

You didn’t say anything back. There was nothing left to say. You had made it clear where you stood, and now, there was a silence between you both, almost unbearable.

He swallowed, his jaw clenched tightly as his eyes dropped to the floor. You could see the frustration in his body language and the way he folded his arms across his chest like he was trying to protect himself from the words you had thrown at him. And yet, there was still this undeniable hurt that lingered in his expression.

Haechan took a slow, steadying breath before looking up at you one last time. His eyes were distant now, but the hurt was still there. His lips pressed into a thin line, and without another word, he turned away, walking toward the hallway, his footsteps heavy against the floor.

You stood frozen, the knot in your throat tightening again as you watched him leave. Your heart felt like it had been split in two—one part of you was still angry but the other part of you, the quieter part, regretted what you had just said. Knowing deep down he was right.

But Haechan didn’t turn back. He didn’t say anything else. He just left, disappearing into his room without a single glance in your direction.

You remained standing in the living room, the weight of the silence pressing down on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, not yet, because you knew if you did, you’d have to face what you’d just done.

And right now, you weren’t ready to do that. So you stayed there, alone in the quiet, wondering if you’d ever be able to fix this.

Weeks turned into a month, and with each passing day, the tension between you and Haechan only seemed to grow. You avoided him, doing everything you could to sidestep those awkward, silent moments when you’d inevitably cross paths. Which was a lot, you two live together!

But you didn’t know how to fix things, didn’t know how to admit you were wrong. The pride that had kept you from apologizing in the first place now felt like a heavy weight on your chest, crushing you.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to talk to the others. You’d still spent time with Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung—though it was different now. They could all sense it. The moment you and Haechan were in the same room, the air would go thick, filled with an undeniable awkwardness. Everyone seemed to feel it, and no one ever quite knew what to say.

Things had taken a turn after Haechan finally told the guys about the fight. You had noticed it right away. They had become distant too. Maybe they were angry at you, maybe they were just upset because they were caught in the middle of it. Either way, they didn’t talk to you like they used to. They didn’t look at you like they used to. And that made you feel even more isolated.

But the worst part? The worst part was Haechan. You barely saw him anymore.

He either wasn’t home—probably at some party getting drunk. Or he spent his time locked away in his room, just like you did. You’d occasionally hear him laughing or talking with the other people, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t normal anymore. And every time you heard that, you felt like something inside you was breaking—like you were losing your friends.

The apartment had felt weird lately...too quiet, too still. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been until the familiar sound of laughter echoed through the hallway, followed by a knock at your door.

Lisa burst in first, tossing her bag on the couch like she owned the place. Jaemin trailed behind, grinning as he scanned the room.

“Okay, so this is your version of living your best life?” Lisa raised a brow, glancing around at your cozy setup. “I expected a little more....”

You laughed, the sound feeling strange in your own space. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Jaemin dropped onto the couch beside you, arms stretched wide as he let out a relaxed sigh. “I’ll take it. Better than Lisa’s place, where everything’s freakishly neat. Move one thing and she goes full psycho.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and chucked a pillow at him. “You love it.”

Their banter filled the room with a warmth you hadn’t felt in weeks. The air felt lighter, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so weighed down.

Lisa, always too observant for her own good, shot you a sideways glance. “So... sleepover. And since we’re here, you’re gonna spill. What’s really going on with you? You’ve been sulking and dodging us for weeks.”

Jaemin nodded. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. You’ve been off.”

You swallowed the knot that had been sitting in your chest for days. “It’s... Haechan. We got into a fight. Things have been tense ever since.”

Lisa’s curiosity sparked. “Weird how?”

You hesitated. “We argued... and I said some things I didn’t mean. He made some comment about me changing, and I just snapped. I told him he wasn’t my friend—just Mark’s.”

Jaemin winced. “Damn. That’s cold.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Oof, that’s a low blow. But, seriously, you both probably said some dumb stuff in the heat of the moment.”

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as you stared at the ground. “Yeah, I regret it. I didn’t mean it. But I just... I was so frustrated. And then, after that, we just avoided each other. It’s been like walking on eggshells around him, and honestly, this was supposed to be my year.”

Jaemin frowned, glancing at Lisa, who was now looking at you with a mixture of concern and something else—something playful.

“Okay, okay,” Lisa said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “Maybe I’m just gonna throw this out there, because you know I have no filter—which you love—but what if the real reason you exploded like that is because you’re so pent up?”

You blinked at her, confused. “Pent up?”

She grinned, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. You know... because you’ve been holding onto your... frustrations for so long. Maybe it’s all this repressed energy that made you lash out. Like... you've been a little too focused on being the ‘good girl,’ and now you’re overcompensating.”

Jaemin chuckled, clearly intrigued by where this was going, and leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I see where this is going. So, you’re telling me that you’ve been, what stressed because of the whole ‘virginity thing’?”

You shot Lisa a disbelieving look. “What? That’s ridiculous. That’s not the problem.”

Lisa laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “I mean, it’s not just that, but come on. You’re in college now. You’re out partying, meeting people, and you’ve got all this new freedom. Maybe you’re just... figuring some things out. But hey, I’m not saying that’s the only reason.”

You snorted, a small laugh escaping despite yourself. “So, you’re saying I lashed out at Haechan because I haven’t gotten laid yet?”

Lisa shrugged, still grinning. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe there’s a little frustration there, building up, and Haechan just happened to be the unlucky target.”

Jaemin, always the more level-headed one, cut in, “I think Lisa’s just trying to make you laugh, Y/n. But seriously, maybe she’s onto something. You’ve been putting so much pressure on yourself to be perfect, to do everything right. Maybe you just need to let go a little. Not everything has to feel like a Rom-Com”

You nodded, “Maybe you're right, I just need to hurry up and lose my virginity! It’s not a big deal anyways.”

“I mean mine was awful but it got rid of my nerves with the next girl,” Jaemin nodded along.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way they were talking about it so casually. Jaemin’s bluntness always had a way of making even awkward topics sound less serious.

"Wait, your first time was awful?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was Sixteen. Clueless. Awful,” he said flatly. “But it’s like a rite of passage, right?”

Lisa snorted. “College is the perfect time to get your awkward phase out of the way.”

You nodded slowly. “You know what? You’re right. 2025 is the year I lose my virginity.”

Jaemin burst out laughing. Lisa threw her hands up in mock celebration. “Yes! New Year’s resolution: lose the V-card!”

“Just don’t treat it like a movie or a book,” Jaemin added. “It’s probably gonna be weird. But hey, at least it’ll be real.”

You groaned. “Ugh, you’re ruining the fantasy. Can’t I just pretend it’s gonna be magical?”

Lisa slapped your leg. “Oh, come on. You’ve read enough fanfiction to know better.”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it. “Do not bring up the kind of smut I read!”

Lisa howled with laughter. “You’re blushing!”

“Shut up,” you muttered, hiding your face. But you were smiling.

Jaemin smirked. “With how much smut you read, you might as well go out and live it.”

You threw him a look, but your cheeks were burning. “You two are the worst.”

Lisa leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Tell us one thing. Do you still have that folder labeled ‘study material’?”

You groaned. “Can we not talk about my smut collection?”

Jaemin laughed. “I mean the amount of smut you read, you might as well be a slut…”

You shot Jaemin a playful glare, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "Oh my god, seriously? You two are horrible," you muttered, covering your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment.

Lisa smirked, clearly loving every second of teasing you. "Come on, don’t be shy. We know you're into the good stuff, Y/n." She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.

You flopped back on the couch. “Conversation over.”

Lisa grinned. “What? You used to read us your favorite fics, remember?”

You buried your face in the pillow. “That was when we weren’t in my apartment. It’s different here!”

“Is your roommate here?” Jaemin asked, glancing around.

You nodded. “Exactly. Haechan’s down the hall. Can you imagine if he heard all this? I’d die.”

The three of you burst into laughter, the kind that filled the apartment and pushed the heaviness away for a while. The sleepover didn’t last long—they both wanted to sleep in their own beds—but in those few hours, you felt a little less alone.

The next morning, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, waking you up. Sunlight came through the blinds, warming the room. You stretched on the couch, your neck sore from sleeping there, and reached for your phone. A message from Lisa was waiting.

Lisa Pookie: You passed out on us. We didn’t want to wake you, so we headed home. Hope you survived the night after all our teasing. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, the loneliness that had been sitting so heavy in your chest no longer there. But there was still something missing that you didn’t want to admit.

With a sigh, you checked the time—it was almost noon. The apartment was quiet, not surprising. Haechan probably was still sleeping.

You made your way into the kitchen to start making some coffee, still replaying the events of last night in your mind. The conversation with Lisa and Jaemin had made you realize just how stressed out you'd been, how much you’d been holding in. It felt like a release, but now, the weight of what had happened with Haechan was still lingering in the back of your mind. You knew you had to face him, but you had no idea how or when that would happen.

Just as you were about to pour the coffee into your mug, you heard footsteps behind you.

“Morning,” Haechan’s voice came, surprisingly calm.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Your first instinct was to turn around and walk away, but you held yourself steady, trying to keep your composure. “Oh… hey, Haechan,” you said, your voice much less casual than you intended.

You hadn't expected him to speak to you after everything that happened. The argument, the cold silence… you assumed you’d both continue to tiptoe around each other. So why was he suddenly talking to you again?

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his usual laid-back expression replaced with something softer. “Lisa and Jaemin left already?”

“Yeah, they left yesterday night. They were… just here to hang out.” You fiddled with the coffee filter, unsure how to act around him.

A brief silence stretched between you two. You felt the awkwardness from the night before still hanging in the air, thick and heavy. You didn't know how to break it.

Haechan cleared his throat, looking at the coffee machine like he was trying to figure out what to say next. “Listen, I... I know things have been weird between us lately, and I’m not great at talking about stuff like this. But, I wanted to clear the air.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, what?” you said, still facing the coffee machine, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t… I don’t really know what you’re trying to say.”

Haechan's voice softened, and you finally glanced over at him, noticing how his usual cocky demeanor had shifted to something more sincere. “I know I messed up too,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did. But I was worried. I guess I was trying to look out for you... I’ve just been caught up in my own head too.”

You stared at him, taken aback by his words. For so long, you assumed he was angry with you, that he’d shut you out because of everything that happened. But this… this was different. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you murmured, your own guilt creeping in. “I was mad, and I didn’t know how to… deal with all the stuff that was going on in my head. I guess I just… took it out on you.”

Haechan gave a slight nod, his eyes softening. “I get it,” he said quietly. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. I shouldn’t have made it worse by trying to control you. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get hurt or… change in ways you didn’t want to.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, realizing that despite how hard you’d pushed him away, Haechan was still looking out for you. He wasn’t trying to control you, but protect you. It wasn’t easy to admit, but you could see that now.

“I’m sorry, Haechan,” you whispered, the knot in your chest loosening just a little. “I didn’t mean to push you away like that.”

Haechan’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. We both said things we didn’t mean. It happens.”

The tension between you two seemed to finally ease a bit. There was still an unspoken understanding of what had been said and done, but the air felt a little lighter, less suffocating. You grabbed your mug, finally turning toward him fully.

“Do you want some coffee?” you offered, unsure if it would be weird, but it felt like a small step toward rebuilding things.

Haechan nodded, his smile widening. “Sure. I could use some.”

As you handed Haechan his cup of coffee, you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed more at ease now, his usual playful attitude returning bit by bit. He took a sip of the coffee, nodding in approval before setting the mug down on the counter.

“So,” Haechan began, leaning casually against the counter again. “Since we are on good terms again, how about we invite the others over for a game night tonight?” Haechan grinned, tapping his fingers on the counter as if he was already mentally planning the evening.

“It’s been a while since we all hung out together. We could order some takeout, play a few games—maybe a couple rounds of Mario Kart, Monopoly, or something.” His eyes sparkled with excitement that you hadn’t seen in a while.

You hesitated for a moment, considering the idea. It would be nice to have everyone over. You missed those nights when you all just kicked back and had fun together, no pressure, no awkwardness. But then you remembered the last few weeks—the tension that had built up between you and Haechan. Would it be weird, to bring them over and act like everything was normal again?

Haechan must’ve sensed your hesitation because he quickly added, “It’ll be fun. I promise it won’t be awkward.”

You hesitated for another second, but the idea of good food and the mess of game night started to sound more and more appealing. After everything that had happened recently, you realized that maybe this was exactly what you needed—an evening with your friends to reset everything.

“Okay,” you agreed, finally giving in with a small smile. “That sounds good. We haven’t had a game night in forever.”

Haechan grinned, his smile contagious. “Great! I’ll text them. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the details. You just get ready to lose badly to me in Mario Kart.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling softly. “We’ll see about that. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s going to beat you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, nudging your shoulder playfully. “I’ll text the guys now. I’ll let you know when they’re on their way.”

He pulled out his phone while you took a sip of coffee, feeling a bit better. Maybe it was the thought of seeing your friends, or just how relaxed Haechan made things feel, but it seemed like everything might be okay again.

A few hours later, the sound of footsteps and the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

“Game night!” Chenle grinned, holding up a bag of snacks like a prize. “I brought chips, popcorn, and like, fifty sodas.”

Renjun held up a board game with a sly smile. “I brought Monopoly,” he said, wiggling his fingers like it was some kind of secret weapon.

“You brought Monopoly?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want us to fight?”

Jisung walked in last, looking the most unsure—like he’d just sat down with two divorced parents. “Maybe we shouldn’t play that…”

You and Haechan shared an amused glance as everyone settled in, setting out snacks and games. For the first time in a while, the tension between you and Haechan was gone. The usual noise of friends joking, arguing over what to play, and debating pizza toppings filled the room.

“Alright,” Haechan said with a grin. “Let’s make this interesting. Loser cleans up. Deal?”

You leaned back on the couch, smiling. “You’re on. Just don’t cry when you lose.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he said, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Everyone burst out laughing, and for the first time in weeks, things felt normal. Whatever happened before didn’t matter tonight. You were with your friends and everything felt right.

After a night where you finally felt like yourself again, it was time to step back into your college life. Sitting on your bed, journal in hand, your phone buzzed beside you. Lisa’s name lit up the screen, and you quickly answered.

“Y/n! How have you been?” Lisa’s voice rang with excitement.

You smiled, lying back on your bed as you relaxed into the call. “Honestly? Amazing. I finally made up with Haechan. It's no longer awkward… thank God. I don’t think I could’ve handled one more day of him looking all sad and mopey.”

“I knew you two would fix it!” Lisa cheered. “I’ve missed you guys being friends. Everything’s more fun when no one’s beefing. I can stop pretending I don’t see him on campus.”

You laughed. “Yeah, and I don’t have to constantly stress that I ruined half my friendships.”

There was a brief pause, then Lisa’s tone turned playful. “Sooo… now that the drama’s over, it’s time to celebrate. You, me, and Jaemin TONIGHT. There’s a frat party, and you know it’s gonna be crazy.”

You raised an eyebrow, already grinning. “A frat party? I haven’t been to one of those in forever. Not since me and Haechan had our fallout.”

“Exactly!” Lisa laughed. “It’s the perfect excuse to let loose. And the perfect place to do all the things we’ve been talking about. Sooo?”

You hesitated for half a second but then shrugged. “Why not? I’m in.”

“YES!” Lisa squealed. “Jaemin and I will pick you up at nine. Oh and please dress slutty!”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, okay! I’ll see you then.”

Ending the call, you sigh and head to your closet, Lisa’s words echoing in your mind. Something slutty… You pause. Do you even own anything she’d call slutty?

You dig through your clothes—everything feels too plain or safe. Then your hand stops on a dress you borrowed from her a while ago. She never asked for it back: a very short black dress with lace details.

Taking a deep breath, you slip it on. It fits snugly, hugging every curve, the hem high enough to make you tug it down without thinking. You turn to the mirror and pause. You look...Sexy. It's different but in a good way.

You grab a pair of dusty heels from the back of your closet to complete the look. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjust the dress one last time. A nervous excitement builds in your chest. In this dress? Yeah—you’re definitely getting laid tonight.

You were about to check Jaemin’s location when a knock sounded at your door. You looked up, surprised. Opening it, you found Haechan standing there.

His eyes scanned your outfit, eyebrows raised. “You look nice. Where are you going?”

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “Me and a couple friends are hitting up a frat party.”

Haechan grinned, clearly amused. “A frat party, huh? Sounds fun. Mind if I tag along? I could use a night out.”

You blinked. “You want to come with us?”

He shrugged casually. “Why not? Unless… you don’t want me there?”

You hesitated—not because you didn’t want him to come, but because the question caught you off guard. His casual tone made it hard to tell if he was joking.

You laughed, trying to keep things light. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you there. I just didn’t think frat parties were your thing, thought you preferred bars and clubs.”

“Why wouldn’t they be? I get to show up with a bunch of ladies,” he teased.

“Two ladies and Jaemin,” you corrected.

“Still counts. And I’d love to see how you are at a frat party.” There was a glint in his eye you might have missed if you weren’t already paying attention.

You shook your head, smiling. “Okay, fine. You can come. But don’t make it weird.”

He placed a hand over his heart, mock offended. “Weird? Me? Never.”

You both laughed. For the first time in a while, it felt like the old Haechan was really back.

“So,” he said after a pause, “I’ll go get ready.”

You nodded. “Yeah Yeah, just finishing up.”

“Cool. I’ll be quick.” He shot you a grin before walking off down the hall.

You took a deep breath. You slipped on your shoes, checked your reflection one last time, and grabbed your phone. A new message from Lisa lit up the screen.

“Can’t wait to see how sexy you are! I’m on my way. Get ready to partyyy!!!”

You smiled at Lisa’s message and quickly replied: “Already dressed ;) Haechan’s coming too, by the way.”

Her response came almost instantly: “No way! That’s perfect. This is going to be so much fun. See you soon!”

You grabbed your jacket and headed for the door, only to bump into Haechan again—this time dressed casually, but still effortlessly hot.

“All set?” he asked, giving you an approving once-over.

“Yup. Lisa should be here any minute,” you said with a small smile.

He stepped aside, motioning for you to lead the way, and the two of you headed downstairs. Just as you reached the front door, you heard the sound of Jaemin’s car pulling up.

Outside, the cool night air brushed your skin as you walked toward the car. Lisa was already in the front seat, and her eyes lit up the moment she saw you.

“Ooh, look at you two!” she said, grinning. “You clean up nice.”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips. “Don’t start.”

Haechan just laughed, casually shrugging. “What can I say? I’m naturally this good-looking.”

Lisa laughed. “I’m glad you decided to come, Haechan. Now let’s go before they drink all the alcohol!”

You slid into the backseat, and Haechan followed, settling in beside you.

“All buckled up?” Jaemin asked, catching your eye in the rearview mirror with a playful wink.

“Buckled!” you said, the car pulling away as the night officially began.

The moment you stepped into the party, the energy hit you. The house was buzzing—people laughing, dancing, and talking over the loud music that vibrated through the walls. Dim lighting cast shadows and color across the room.

Near the entrance, you spotted Hendery, one of the frat guys, chatting with friends. His eyes lit up when he saw your group.

“Hey! You guys made it!” he said, flashing a wide grin that instantly made you feel welcome.

“Of course,” Lisa replied, giving him a quick side hug as she nudged past Jaemin. “Your frat always throws the best parties.”

“You’re too sweet. Let me know if you need anything!” Hendery replied before disappearing into the crowd to greet others.

You smiled softly and scanned the room. Haechan grinned beside you, casually slinging an arm behind Jaemin and Lisa.

“You guys don’t mind if I steal Y/n for a bit, do you?” he asked. His tone was light, but the way his eyes locked onto yours felt anything but casual—like a challenge.

Jaemin and Lisa raised their eyebrows and exchanged a look before giving nods of approval. With that, Haechan gently guided you into the crowd.

Your stomach flipped, though you weren’t sure why.

The music shifted into something bass-heavy, and soon you found yourself moving to the beat in the middle of the living room, Haechan never far from your side. He kept the mood light, joking and saying random things that made you laugh. You couldn’t deny how comfortable he made you feel—yet part of you started to notice how present he was. Every time you turned, he was there. Close. Watching.

Too close.

After a while, it became a bit much. You needed space, and more than that, you needed Lisa.

You nudged her side. “Come on, let’s go outside for a minute. I need some air.”

Lisa gave you a knowing look and smirked. “Yeah, same. Let’s go.”

The two of you slipped out into the hallway and stepped onto the small back porch. The cool night air hit your skin, refreshing after the heat and noise inside. The backyard was quiet, the music now just a low thump through the walls.

You let out a deep breath and turned to Lisa.

“Okay… I need to tell you something,” you said, fiddling with your jacket sleeve. “It’s about Haechan.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, leaning against the porch railing. “Spill it.”

You let out a breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t know what’s going on, but he hasn’t left my side all night. Every time I turn around, there he is—hovering like he’s guarding me or something. It’s driving me nuts, Lis. I can’t even breathe with him so close.”

Lisa’s expression softened with understanding, then shifted into a knowing smirk. “What if he’s into you? I mean… you do look sexy as hell right now.”

You scoffed. “Ew, no. And I’m pretty sure Mark already gave him the big brother talk. Sisters are off-limits, remember?”

Before Lisa could answer, Haechan’s voice cut through the night air.

“So… what’s all the whispering about?” he asked, suddenly leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous grin. “Did you sneak out here to hide from me?”

You turned to him with an exasperated look. “Haechan, seriously. We were just talking.”

“Talking, huh?” He raised a brow, clearly unfazed.

“Mind if I join? Or is this a no boys allowed kind of thing?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer, closing the space between you. You could practically feel the smirk radiating off him.

You rolled your eyes. “Haechan, I swear…”

Lisa glanced between you two, biting back a laugh.

You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at your lips. “He’s impossible,” you muttered under your breath as you turned to head back inside.

And, of course, Haechan was right behind you—still grinning, still too close.

The party was in full swing now—the kind people would regret in the morning. Bodies moved recklessly to the beat (more like off the beat), drinks spilling from red cups, and laughter bouncing off the walls. You tried to disappear into the crowd, to lose yourself in the music, but it was impossible to ignore the weight of Haechan’s eyes on you from across the room.

Enough was enough.

You spotted Lisa laughing with a group nearby and tugged her sleeve. “Come with me to the bathroom,” you said quietly. “I need to get away from him for a few minutes.”

Lisa gave you a look—half amused, half knowing—but didn’t argue. “Gotcha. Let’s go.”

You followed her down the hallway, slipping into the bathroom. The moment the door shut behind you, you locked it and leaned against the counter with a frustrated sigh.

“I swear, I’m going to lose my mind,” you muttered. “How am I supposed to get laid tonight if my brother’s best friend is shadowing me like some overprotective bodyguard?”

Lisa laughed under her breath, but her expression turned sympathetic. “Yeah, I get it. That’s gotta be frustrating.”

You crossed your arms, feeling cornered. “I need some space, Lis. A little freedom to actually enjoy myself. I’m still convinced he’s doing this for Mark.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, a mischievous look forming. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got an idea.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was letting you in on a secret. “There’s a guy over by the drinks table who’s been staring at you for the past few minutes.”

You blinked. “Wait—seriously? Staring how?”

Lisa grinned. "Like is undressing you with his eyes staring! And before you ask—yes, he’s hot.”

You straightened a bit, curiosity replacing your annoyance. “How hot are we talking?”

“Tall, dark hair slicked back, white shirt. Brooding. Definitely your type.”

You cracked a smile—your first genuine one of the night. “Damn. Okay. I owe you.”

Lisa winked. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Go talk to him. I’ll handle Haechan. Just keep walking, don’t look back.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves buzzing under your skin. A distraction sounded perfect right now. A hot, mysterious distraction? Even better.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go,” you muttered, working up the courage.

Lisa gave you a playful shove and a small smack on your ass. “That’s my girl. Now go work your magic.”

You laughed softly, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in your stomach as you opened the door.

Stepping back into the party, the music hit you again but your eyes scanned the crowd. And there he was. Just as Lisa said: white shirt, black slicked-back hair, standing by the drinks table.

And he was looking directly at you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you made your way through the crowd toward him. His gaze never wavered, and when you finally reached him, he offered a small, welcoming smile.

“Hey,” you said, aiming for casual, though your voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. “You’ve been eyeing me all night, haven’t you?”

His smile widened as he let out a soft laugh. “I could say the same about you.” He stepped a little closer. “I’m Jeno, by the way.”

“Y/n,” you replied, your nerves giving way to a flicker of excitement. His easy confidence was contagious.

“Y/n,” he repeated, almost like he was trying it on. His eyes swept over you with clear appreciation. “You look amazing tonight.”

You let out a small laugh, your boldness growing in the absence of Haechan’s constant hovering. “Thanks. I was just... wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me?”

Jeno didn’t hesitate. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

As the two of you turned toward the drinks table, you glanced over your shoulder—half-expecting to find Haechan’s gaze following you—but to your relief, he was nowhere in sight.

Jeno leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “So, what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a party like this? Looking to get drunk, or just letting loose?”

You smiled, playing along. “A little bit of both, honestly. It’s been a long night, and I needed a change of pace.”

He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Then I’m glad I could be your change of pace.”

Whatever tension you’d been carrying melted away as you kept talking. Jeno was warm, funny, easy to be around. Before long, your banter turned flirtier—light touches on your arm, lingering eye contact, small smiles exchanged between sips.

But across the room, Haechan had noticed.

He’d seen you at the drinks table, watched as you laughed at something Jeno said. Despite his usual teasing, playful attitude, an uncomfortable pang settled in his chest. He didn’t know why, but the sight of you getting so close to someone else made something inside him twist.

He tried to shake it off, turning back to the conversation with Lisa and the others, but his mind wasn’t in it.

At one point, Jaemin leaned toward him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, Haechan? You’re staring a little too hard at Y/n right now.”

Haechan blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He waved Jaemin off, trying to mask the unease tightening in his chest. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just… watching out for her. For Mark.”

Jaemin gave him a long, skeptical look. “She’s not a kid, man. She doesn’t need a babysitter. She’s allowed to have fun—same as you.”

Haechan opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He didn’t have a good comeback. Just a growing knot in his stomach and the uncomfortable realization that he cared a lot more than he probably should.

Back at the drink table, you and Jeno were getting even more touchy with each other. Both of his hands are on your hips, one of them dangerously close to your ass. While your hands were around his neck, playing with the hair on his neck as he was talking into your ear.

“Why don’t we go and find a better place to talk.”

You tilted your head back slightly to meet Jeno’s intense gaze, your lips curling into a small smirk. “A better place to talk, huh? And where exactly did you have in mind?” you asked teasingly, though the butterflies in your stomach betrayed how nervous you were.

Jeno smirked, his fingers lightly touching your waist as he leaned in. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. Maybe a bedroom? Away from all this noise.”

The idea of some alone time with him was very tempting. The night had already taken a surprising turn, and you figured there was no harm in seeing where it would lead. “Alright,” you said, your voice softer now as you stepped back, giving him a playful tug on his hand. “Lead the way.”

As Jeno guided you through the crowded room, you were starting to get nervous. Was this finally happening? And with a hot guy like Jeno too? The music and energy of the party seemed to fade into the background as you both stepped into a room that was unlocked.

Jeno shut the door and turned back to you. “I've been dying to kiss you all night.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You teased back.

Without another word, Jeno closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours.

His touch was hot, every brush of his fingers against your skin sent shivers through you, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment with him.

He backed up so he could sit on the bed with your lips still chasing his. As the kiss deepened, Jeno’s hands began to explore your body. Pulling you onto his lap and running his fingers up your back to push you further into him.

Your body started to tense up, never getting this far with anyone before but you were so turned on. Jeno seemed to sense it too, his kisses growing more urgent as he trailed them down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and you froze in place. Your heart leaped into your throat as you quickly pulled away from Jeno, your breath hitching. The startled look you exchanged with him was all too telling.

Haechan stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face unreadable. His eyes moved between you and Jeno, and for a moment, the room felt smaller.

Scrambling off Jeno’s lap, you felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks. The embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position burned in your chest. “Haechan, what—” you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

He didn’t let you finish. With a sharp motion, he raised a hand, his voice low and cutting. “Stop.”

His attention shifted to Jeno, his jaw tight as his eyes narrowed. The weight of his stare seemed to pin Jeno in place. After an intense moment of silence, Haechan spoke again, his voice controlled but icy. “Leave.”

Jeno blinked, clearly misunderstanding what was happening. His face changed as he realized something—like he thought your boyfriend had caught him. Without saying anything, he stood up, avoided Haechan’s glare, and quickly left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence.

You turned to Haechan, your pulse still racing, only to find him... smiling? No, grinning. The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable as he leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Wow,” he laughed. “Can’t believe how fast he ran off. I said just one word!” His laughter got louder. “Okay, two words but still!” He held his side like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

You stared at him, completely confused. “What the hell is going on?” you asked, your face full of disbelief. Your mind raced to keep up with how weird things had gotten.

Haechan straightened up, still chuckling, and said with a smug smile, “Relax, I’m just getting back at you.”

“Getting back at me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“For what?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you lose your virginity while you’re living under my roof,” he said with a proud smirk, like he’d just won something.

You blinked, shocked. “What?”

“I heard you guys at your little sleepover,” Haechan said, his grin growing wider as he saw your reaction. “So here’s the deal: I’m watching you like a hawk. No chance of losing your virginity this year. Not on my watch.”

You stared, speechless, trying to wrap your head around how bold he was. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” he said casually, shrugging. “But you said I’m just Mark’s friend. Pretty sure he wouldn’t want his little sister making mistakes.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you finally said, shaking your head in disbelief. Haechan just grinned, the smugness in his expression making your blood boil. “Nope. Dead serious. Consider me your personal chastity belt.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “Oh my god, you are insufferable.”

He just shrugged, stepping further into the room. “Protecting your purity, looking out for my best friend’s baby sister.”

Your jaw clenched at the title. “I am not a baby! You don’t need to protect me!.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Then why are you acting like one? Running off with some random dude at a party? What if he was a creep?”

“He wasn’t,” you snapped. “And for the record, I decide who I hook up with, not you.”

Haechan let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. “And yet, here we are. That guy is gone, and you’re still a virgin.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His smirk softened just a fraction, but it was enough to make you hesitate. “If you did, you wouldn’t be blushing so hard right now.”

You let out an aggravated groan, shoving past him toward the door. “Whatever, I’m going back to the party.”

But before you could yank it open, Haechan’s hand shot out, pressing it shut. The sudden closeness sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, his voice lower now. Not teasing—just something else. Something quieter. “If you’re not careful, I might have to tell on you.”

Your breath hitched, just for a second. Then you forced yourself to scoff, pushing his hand away. “You wouldn't.”

He chuckled, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “You don’t know me.”

Rolling your eyes, you yanked the door open and walked out, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You stormed back into the party, your mind racing with frustration. The nerve of that guy. Haechan had always been a little shit, but this? This was a new level of infuriating. The way he had looked at you just now. It stirred something hot in your chest, but you didn’t have the time or patience to deal with it right now.

You needed a distraction.

Lisa spotted you instantly, slipping through the crowd to meet you with a smug smile. “So?” she asked, arms crossed. “That was fast, how was it?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was fine until he showed up.”

Lisa blinked. “Wait. Who?”

You shot her a pointed look. “Haechan.”

Her eyes widened before a slow smirk curled her lips.

“No way. What happened?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual: he ruined my night, embarrassed the hell out of me, and declared himself my personal guardian of celibacy,” you said, irritated. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to hook up while he’s around.”

Lisa let out a loud laugh, covering her mouth. “No. No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” you muttered, grabbing her drink and taking a long sip. “He admitted he heard us at that sleepover and now he’s made it his life mission to keep me from getting laid for an entire year, until Mark is back.”

Lisa practically doubled over laughing. “Oh my god. That’s fucking funny.”

You groaned. “This is hell.”

“Or…” Lisa tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s a challenge.”

You frowned. “A challenge?”

Lisa shrugged, leaning in closer. “You really gonna let Haechan win?”

You opened your mouth to argue but faltered. The way he had looked at you tonight, the way he had inserted himself into your business like he had any claim over what you did—it had pissed you off. But even worse? It had gotten to you.

Lisa was right.

Haechan thought he had control over this little sick game. That he could mess with your head, keep you from doing what you wanted.

But if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was losing.

Your fingers tightened around the small red solo cup as a slow smirk pulled at your lips. “You know what?” you said, turning to Lisa. “You’re right.”

Lisa gasped. “Oh, I love where this is going.”

You glanced back toward the party, scanning the room for a certain cocky idiot. It didn’t take long to find him. He was lounging on the couch with a couple of people you didn’t know, a drink in hand, completely at ease. Like he hadn’t just ruined your night and enjoyed every second of it.

Fine.

If he wanted to play games, you’d play back.

Squaring your shoulders, you downed the rest of your drink and set it aside. “I’m gonna make his life miserable. ”Lisa clapped her hands. “Oh, this is gonna be so fun.”

For the rest of the night, you made sure Haechan saw everything.

You danced—a lot—letting your body move to the music, making sure he had a front-row seat. You laughed a little louder, leaned a little closer to guys when they spoke to you, let them put their hands on your waist, touch your hair.

And Haechan?

Oh, he noticed.

You caught his gaze more times than you could count. His eyes followed your every move, his relaxed demeanor slowly shifting into something else. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He wasn’t teasing you. He was just watching.

And when you caught him staring, you made sure to smirk. To let him know you knew he was watching.

But the real moment of victory came when you leaned in close to some guy—you didn’t even know his name—and whispered something in his ear, leaving a small kiss just below on his neck. It was harmless flirting, really. But to Haechan?

It was you declaring war.

The moment you glanced back toward him, you saw it happen—his jaw tightened, his grip on his drink flexed, and then, just like that, he was up and walking straight toward you.

You barely had a second to react before he was across the room and his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you away from your nameless toy.

“What the—Haechan!” you hissed, stumbling after him as he led you out of the crowded room.

Haechan didn’t stop.

Not when you tugged at his grip, not when you shot him a glare, not even when you dug your heels into the floor, forcing him to yank you forward with more force. The people around you barely noticed—too caught up in their own drunken world.

But this? This was personal.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped, struggling against his hold.

Haechan ignored you.

Instead, with a sigh so annoyed it made your blood boil, he let go—only to grab you by the waist and throw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

Your breath caught as the room tilted and suddenly, you weren’t on solid ground anymore.

“What the—Haechan! Put me down!” You kicked your legs, smacking your fists against his back, but he didn’t even flinch.

“If you’re gonna act like a damn kid, I’ll treat you like one,” he muttered, adjusting his grip on the back of your thighs as he walked toward the front door.

“Haechan, I swear to—”

Before you could finish your threat, you felt a sudden shift—a cool rush of air against your thighs, a telltale sign of your dress riding up dangerously high from the way he was carrying you.

Your breath hitched.

Just as panic settled in, Haechan’s hand was there—gripping the hem of your dress, tugging it back down firmly, his fingers brushing over the bare skin of your thigh in a way that made your stomach flip.

The worst part? It was so effortless. Like it was second nature to him.

You froze.

Not because you were embarrassed—no, you had no shame when you drink. But because for a split second, just a brief moment, you had felt safe in his hands.

And that? That was dangerous.

The cold night air hit your skin as he stepped outside, finally setting you back on your feet near the front porch.

You barely had time to regain your balance before you were jabbing a finger into his chest. “You’re fucking crazy!! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Haechan let out a dry laugh, completely unfazed. “Oh, I’m the problem?”

“Yes, you!” You threw your hands up. “You just manhandled me out of a party like I’m some—some misbehaving child!”

Haechan crossed his arms, tilting his head. “If it walks like a brat and talks like a brat—”

You shoved him. Hard. “You so annoying—”

“Me?” He scoffed, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “You’ve been acting like a damn brat all night. You think I didn’t see what you were doing?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh? And what exactly was I doing?”

Haechan’s lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You were testing me.”

Your breath caught.

Because he was right.

You forced a laugh, crossing your arms to hide the way your hands trembled. “Don’t flatter yourself, Haechan. I was having fun.”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, so was I.”

The way he said it—low, amused, a little too smug—sent heat rushing up your spine.

Because suddenly, you weren’t so sure if you were still in control of this game.

Your professor dismissed the class and you quickly packed up your things, your mind already racing ahead to what you had to do next. You were relieved the lecture was over—today was dragging on longer than you'd hoped. Still feeling sick from the party over the weekend. But as you were gathering your notes, you noticed someone walking toward you from across the lecture hall.

It was Jeno.

He had that easy smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly confident he looked, despite the fact that you’d only met him the night before at the party. You weren’t sure what to expect.

"Hey, uh Y/n?” Jeno said as he reached your desk. "Do you mind if I sit for a second?"

"Uh, sure," you replied, a little caught off guard but trying to act casual. You gestured to the empty chair beside you. "What’s up?"

Jeno sat down, the energy around him just as laid-back as you remembered from the party. He looked like he could easily make a conversation with anyone, but something in the way he smiled at you made you feel like this was a bit different.

"So, I’ve been thinking," he began, his gaze focused on you, making you shift a little in your seat. "I never really got the chance to talk to you about the party, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch sometime?"

You blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected this so soon. “Uh, sure, sounds good.” You immediately cursed yourself internally for sounding so awkward.

Then, without missing a beat, you added, “But just to be clear, I wasn’t… you know, trying to lead you on or anything last night.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you hesitated, running a hand through your hair. "About last night—I just want you to know that Haechan is not my boyfriend."

The words felt a little odd coming out of your mouth, but you knew you had to clarify things. With everything that had happened, you didn’t want Jeno to get the wrong impression.

Jeno’s expression softened, and he gave a small, reassuring smile. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that he was. I mean, I could tell you two are close, but I didn’t assume he was anything more than that."

"Good," you said, feeling some relief wash over you. “He’s more like a big brother to me, honestly.”

“Aha, I see.” Jeno nodded, his expression lightening. “So, no need to worry about me stepping into some complicated territory, huh?”

You let out a small laugh. “Exactly. Haechan is just protective, and I figured I should clear that up so there’s no confusion.”

Just protective, god you wish. Would be easier than whatever this game you to are playing…

Jeno chuckled, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Yeah, I was starting to wonder if I was doing something wrong." He grinned. "But now that we’ve got that all sorted out, lunch sounds perfect."

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” you said, smiling back at him. “So, where were you thinking?”

“Well, there’s this little café nearby that I’ve been wanting to try. You up for it?”

You nodded, feeling surprisingly at ease now. "Sounds good. Lead the way."

Jeno stood up, his easygoing energy still radiating, and offered his hand to help you gather your things.

"Alright, let's go."

The café Jeno picked was tucked on a quiet street, filled with the scent of fresh bread and soft chatter. Sunlight poured through big windows, casting a warm glow over the cozy wooden tables.

You and Jeno had settled into a corner booth, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you both exchanged stories and talked about class. It felt different, in a good way, than anything you’d ever experienced.

The awkwardness that usually came with first dates or getting-to-know-each-other moments was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a natural ease between you two—like you had known each other much longer than a single night.

"So, you’re telling me," Jeno said with a raised eyebrow, his lips curled into an amused smile, "that you got in trouble for sneaking out of your house when you were younger because your brother caught you trying to climb out of the window?"

You laughed, feeling a sense of familiarity that made the conversation feel comfortable. "It’s true! My brother is the worst. He’s such a stickler for the rules, always catching me when I tried to sneak out."

Jeno shook his head in disbelief. “Man, I don’t know whether to feel bad for you or your brother. You must’ve given him so much stress growing up.”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It wasn’t all bad. He’s just... protective. A little too protective sometimes.”

Jeno leaned in, his tone softening as he met your eyes. “I get it. Siblings are always like that, especially when you’re the younger one, right?”

Your smile faltered just a little as your mind briefly wandered back to Haechan’s overbearing presence at the party last night. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you found it hard to ignore the parallel. "Yeah," you agreed quietly, "a little too protective sometimes."

You were relieved when the conversation shifted again, back to lighter topics. It felt nice to be able to focus on Jeno, his presence reassuring in a way you didn’t fully understand yet.

“So, tell me more about you,” you said, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “What’s your deal? What do you do when you’re not out at parties or flirting with random girls?”

Jeno grinned, clearly pleased with the shift in focus. “Oh, you know. I’m a professional at avoiding work,” he teased. “I’m actually pretty into cars, though. I spend a lot of time fixing up the car my dad bought when he was younger.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Cars? That’s pretty cool.”

He shrugged modestly. “It’s a hobby for now, but maybe one day it’ll be more than that.”

You could see the passion in his eyes as he talked about it, and for a brief moment, you were reminded of how nice it was to talk to someone who wasn’t caught up in your complicated family dynamics. Jeno made it feel easy, like you could be yourself without worrying about the world closing in.

But of course, just as you were starting to relax fully, the door to the café jingled, and you heard a voice you knew all too well.

“Y/n?”

Your blood went cold as you looked up, and there he was—Haechan. He stood in the doorway, his eyes immediately locking on to you, and his gaze was sharp, like a hawk spotting its prey. He looked... annoyed.

You swallowed hard, already feeling the shift in the energy of the room. Jeno didn’t seem to notice at first, but as Haechan made his way toward your table, his expression changed.

“Haechan,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out more like a question.

Haechan’s eyes flicked from you to Jeno, his lips curling into a tight, unreadable smile. "What’s this? Lunch?" His tone was casual, but there was something in his voice that made you tense. "Hope I’m not interrupting anything."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassment mingling with frustration. "What are you doing here?"

Haechan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a seat across from you without waiting for an invitation, eyeing Jeno with an almost unsettling calm look. "I was just walking by when I saw you two in the window." His gaze flicked back to you. "What? Did I miss something?"

Jeno shifted slightly, clearly picking up on the tension in the air. "No, nothing. Just talking," he said with a forced smile. "We were actually having a pretty good conversation."

Haechan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his attention focused entirely on Jeno now. “I see. A ‘good’ conversation, huh?” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it now. “Well, hopefully not the fun I like to have...Don’t want to have to call Mark.”

The tension in the air hung like a thick cloud as Haechan’s words lingered, leaving you unsure how to respond. The playful edge to his tone was hard to ignore, but it felt like there was more to it. You could feel Jeno’s shift in energy, his smile faltering just slightly as he turned his attention back to Haechan.

Jeno tilted his head, as if processing something. "Wait," he said, his eyes narrowing just a little as he looked at you. "Mark... Lee?" he asked cautiously. "Is that your brother?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question. "Yeah, that's him. Mark Lee," you confirmed, trying to keep things light, even though your insides were swirling.

Jeno’s expression seemed to soften for a moment, a look of recognition crossing his face. "No way," he said with a small laugh. "I didn’t put it together until now. I know Mark. We play basketball together."

Your eyes widened, and you looked between Jeno and Haechan, who was still watching with an unreadable expression. "You do?" you asked, trying to process the sudden turn of events.

Jeno nodded, his grin returning. "Yeah, we’ve played a few times. He’s pretty good." His gaze flicked back to Haechan, who was still eyeing him closely. "Never knew he had a sister at college, though."

Haechan gave a low chuckle. "You really didn’t, huh?" he said, his voice dipping into something a little more guarded. "Well, that changes things, doesn't it?"

Jeno shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his smile now gone, replaced by a more serious expression. "I didn’t mean to step on any toes," he said, meeting Haechan’s eyes briefly before turning back to you. "But I think... maybe I should just make this clear now." He hesitated, as though considering his words carefully. "I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue this."

Your heart sank, confusion rising in your chest. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Jeno looked at you, his gaze apologetic. "I can’t do that to Mark," he said softly. "I’ve got a lot of respect for him, and I don’t want to get involved in any of that. I wasn’t thinking about it like that last night, but now that I know he’s your brother... it just feels off."

The words hit you harder than expected, and for a second, you didn’t know what to say. You tried to keep your emotions in check, but something in you shifted. You nodded slowly, though there was a sharp sting in your chest. "I get it," you managed to say, forcing a small smile despite the disappointment creeping in.

"No worries, Jeno. I completely understand."

Jeno gave a small, regretful smile. "I didn’t want to make things weird, honestly. You seem like a great person, Y/n. But... yeah, I think it’s better we leave it at that."

Haechan, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally spoke up, his tone light but sharp. "Well, it looks like you two have it figured out," he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Guess I’ll let you guys finish up now."

You could feel the weight of the moment, but you didn’t know what else to say. The conversation had shifted again, and though discomfort lingered, the air lightened as Jeno stood and gave you a small nod.

“Take care, Y/n. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

As Jeno walked away, the silence that settled felt suffocating. His words still stung in your chest, but something sharper quickly took hold. You glanced over at Haechan, lounging back with that smug, knowing look that only made your irritation grow.

Breaking the silence, Haechan’s voice was casual, almost playful. “Mark sure had a lot of friends here,” he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your cool even as frustration bubbled up. “Don’t act like you know everything, Haechan,” you snapped. You do things your way, sure—but don’t think you can just sit here and act like you’ve got it all planned out.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Oh? Getting worked up already?”

Crossing your arms, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Worked up?” you scoffed. “You think you’re going to win this? News flash you can’t be around me all the time. I’ll be alone at one point and I do not care who it’s with anymore.”

Haechan’s eyes flickered with playful challenge as he leaned forward, clearly loving how riled you were. “So, what then? Are you gonna storm off in a huff, or actually do something about it this time?”

You met his gaze, determination hardening in your voice. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Well, here’s the thing, Haechan—you’re wrong. I don’t need your permission or your approval to make my own choices. I’ll do what I want, when I want, and if you think you can control that, you’re in for a surprise.”

Haechan’s smirk wavered for a moment, his eyes narrowing, clearly processing your words. But instead of backing off, he leaned in, sensing the challenge in your stance. “You really think you can?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Oh I know I can.”

The words hung in the air between you two, the tension thickening with every passing second. Haechan’s smirk was gone now, replaced by a look that bordered on both surprise and respect.

Haechan was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, but the challenge had been thrown down. He wasn’t used to people pushing back like this. Especially not you.

Finally, with a small sigh, he stood up, stretching casually. “Alright, Y/n. You’ve got some fight. Let’s see if you can actually win it.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. You weren’t about to let Haechan walk all over you. This was your game now.

There’s a beat of silence before Lisa practically screams into the phone.

“Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, glancing toward your door as Haechan’s voice rises. “I just… need to get out of here. Haechan has been driving me crazy all day.”

Lisa laughs, the kind of laugh that says finally. “Oh my god, yes! I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. You better not bail on me.”

“I won’t. Just… pick me up before I change my mind.

“Done,” Lisa says, practically buzzing with excitement. “You’re gonna regret this—in the best way possible.”

You hang up just as Haechan’s voice explodes with curses at his monitor.

Yeah, you definitely made the right call.

You tiptoe around your room, careful to be as quiet as possible. Haechan’s door is cracked just enough for the rapid clicking of his controller and the occasional muttered curse to seep out. Perfect—he’s too focused to notice.

You slide the closet door open slowly and wince when the hinge creaks. You freeze, holding your breath. Nothing — just button mashing and Haechan’s frustrated shout, “Bro, you’re absolutely dogshit at this game!” from his room.

Satisfied, you carefully pull out your outfit, laying it on your bed. You skip the heels— no way you’re risking the sound of those clicking on the floor— and pick boots instead. Quietly, you slip into your clothes.

Your makeup bag is another challenge. Every zipper and brush feels like it sounds too loud, but you manage to get ready with only one small eyeshadow palette dropping to the floor. You freeze again, heart racing— but all you hear is Haechan yelling at his game.

“Dude, I carried the whole team, what are you even doing?”

Rolling your eyes, you grab your purse and phone, slipping toward the door like a shadow. Just as you reach for the handle, you hear Haechan’s voice rise again.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

Panic flashes through you as you freeze.

“YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY, GO RIGHT ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!”

You smirk, shaking your head as you slip out the door. Safe.

The club is packed, the music blasts through the walls, lights flash quickly, and people move to the beat, lost in the moment. You take a sip of your drink, scanning the room with a purpose. Tonight isn’t about dancing with Lisa or drowning in overpriced cocktails. Tonight, you have one goal— to find someone, anyone, to take your mind off everything. Off your week, off your annoying roommate, off him.

Lisa leans in close, grinning like she already knows. “So,” she teases, “are you searching for someone to take your virginity?”

You laugh, but you don’t deny it. “That’s the plan.”

Lisa practically squeals, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the dance floor. “Come on! I’ll help you find someone.”

It doesn’t take long. A few songs in, you spot him — tall, dark hair that falls just right, and a lazy smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s been watching you too, and when you meet his eyes, he doesn’t look away.

“Go!” Lisa urges, practically shoving you forward.

You make your way over, moving through the crowd until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and smooth. “I’m Sungchan.”

“Y/n,” you reply, giving him your best smile.

“You wanna dance?” he asks, but his hand is already sliding to your waist like he knows your answer.

“Sure,” you say, stepping in closer.

The music pulses through you, but it’s hard to focus on anything except the way his hands linger on your hips, fingers pressing just a little tighter each time you move. He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You nod, following him toward the bar. He keeps his hand on you the whole way, light but firm. Like he’s making sure you don’t change your mind.

When he hands you the drink, you take a slow sip, eyes meeting him over the rim of the glass.

“So,” Sungchan says, his voice low enough that you have to lean closer to hear him. “Your place or mine?”

You laugh softly, setting your drink down. “Straight to the point.”

He smirks, leaning in a little closer. “I don’t like wasting time,” he says, his gaze lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at his forwardness, but it’s exactly what you wanted tonight. You give a small shrug, leaning back against the bar. “I like that.”

Sungchan’s hand slides to your lower back, his fingers just brushing the edge of your skin. You can feel the tension in the air, eager. “So, what’s it gonna be?” he asks, his tone playful but with an edge of anticipation.

You glance over at Lisa, who’s still dancing on the floor, lost in her own world. She doesn’t seem to notice you slipping away with him.

“Let’s go to yours,” you say, your voice calm, cool, and collected—like you’ve done this a hundred times before. Even though inside, your heart’s racing.

His grin widens as he takes your hand. “I like the way you think.”

The two of you weave through the crowd and out into the night, the air outside cooler and quieter than you expected. The buzz of the club fades with each step, replaced by the hum of the city and your own nervous thoughts. The car ride to his place is filled with easy conversation and stolen glances, your legs brushing just enough to keep your heart fluttering. You tell yourself to relax, to go with it. And for once, you do.

Now, tangled on his couch with his lips on yours, things are heating up fast… until your phone buzzes. You both ignore it.

Then it rings again.

You groan, pulling back slightly. “Sorry. It’s probably nothing.”

Sungchan smiled at first, brushing it off, but when the screen lit up for the third time, his expression shifted from playful to slightly annoyed.

“You should just answer it,” he said, trying to sound casual, though you could hear the edge in his voice. “Might be important.”

You sighed and glanced at the screen—FaceTime from Haechan.

“Ugh, it’s just my roommate,” you muttered, answering reluctantly. “What, Haechan?”

On the screen, Haechan’s face filled the frame, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell are you??”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m just out.”

Before you could say anything else, Sungchan leaned over to peek at the screen. The second Haechan saw his face, he froze.

“Wait… is that Sungchan?”

Sungchan chuckled. “Oh hey man! What’s up?”

“WHAT?!” Haechan practically shouted, his face going red. “NO. NOPE. Absolutely not. Y/N is off limits! Bro code!”

You blinked, shocked. “Wait, what? You two know each other?”

“We game together,” they both said at the same time.

“Bro. Code.” Haechan repeated, glaring through the screen like he was ready to jump out of it.

You quickly hung up, face burning, trying to laugh it off. “That was... awkward. Let’s just, where were we” You leaned in to kiss him again.

But Sungchan pulled back slightly, looking torn. “I mean… he’s got a point. Bro code’s kind of sacred.”

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

He gave a sheepish smile. “I mean that’s my bro...you know”

You flopped back against the couch with a groan. “Unbelievable.”

“Lisa, I’m telling you—he’s the absolute worst!” you groan, slamming your drink on the table. “I’ve almost gotten laid twice and both times he just shows up out of nowhere and ruins it!”

Lisa tries to hide her laugh but fails miserably, snorting into her cup.

“This isn’t funny! This was your idea!”

“It was also Jaemin’s idea!” she says, still grinning.

“What was my idea?” Jaemin asks, sliding into the seat across from you with a tray of food.

“Y/N losing her virginity this year,” Lisa says bluntly.

“Shh!” you hiss, covering your face with your hands.“Can we not announce it to the whole dining hall?”

Jaemin blinks. “Okay… someone needs to catch me up.”

“Y/N can’t get laid because Haechan has apparently taken some kind of sacred vow to block it from ever happening or just until Mark gets back,” Lisa explains. “He’s ruined every opportunity so far.”

Jaemin pauses, then shrugs. “Damn. That’s wild.”

You glare at him. “Wow. Thank you, Jaemin. Your emotional support is overwhelming.”

“Wait, wait,” he says, raising a hand. “There’s actually a clear answer to all of this.”

“And what is it?”

“Haechan’s cockblocking you? Then just sleep with him.”

You stare at Jaemin. “First of all—ew. Second, he’d never sleep with me.”

Lisa raises an eyebrow and interjects. “He’s a man. Of course he would.”

You scoff, tossing a grape at Lisa’s forehead. “He sees me as, like… a sibling. Not a possible sexual option at all.”

Lisa dodges the grape with a smirk. I saw the way he looked at you at the party, definitely not like a sibling.”

Jaemin,who started this whole thing, finally chimes in. “Honestly, it would make things way easier. He can’t block when he’s the target.”

You lift your head to glare at him. “My virginity shouldn’t be a game, Jaemin.”

“Didn’t say it was. But I am saying if you throw him a little something, he might back off.”

Lisa nods, eyes gleaming. “Exactly! Reverse psychology. Be so into him, he won’t know what to do.”

You blink. “You guys seriously think seducing Haechan is the solution to him cockblocking me?”

Both of them say, in perfect sync: “Yes.”

You lean back in your chair, staring up at the ceiling like it might give you an answer. “This is the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

Jaemin grins. “That means it’s probably gonna work.”

Just then, your phone buzzes. Speak of the devil.

The Devil (Haechan): Where are you? You didn’t come home last night but I texted Sungchan and you left his house???

You hold up your phone to show them. “He tracks my every move. He probably has my location synced to his watch.”

Lisa leans in. “Good. Now you’ve got the upper hand.”

You narrow your eyes. “Okay. Let’s say I do this. I flirt. I play the game. What’s the end goal?”

Jaemin shrugs. “You win. He gets flustered. Maybe he finally stops acting like your personal chastity belt.”

Lisa grins. “And hey, if it leads to something more...”

You sigh, staring at Haechan’s name on your screen. “This is either going to work… or be a complete humiliation.”

Jaemin raises his drink. “To plan seduction.”

Lisa clinks hers with his. “To plan seduction.”

You groan but lift yours anyway. “God help me.”

You take one last look in the mirror, tousling your hair just enough to look effortless, even though you’ve spent ten minutes perfecting the effect. Oversized hoodie, but nothing underneath except a pair of black shorts— that make your ass look great— barely visible beneath the hem, lips glossed, Legs bare and freshly shaved.

You weren’t going to say anything. But if he noticed? Good. That was the point.

You stroll into the living room where Haechans glued to the screen, headset on, barking orders at his teammates.

“Bro—no, do not peek mid—oh my god, why am I the only good one on this team?!”

You drop onto the couch beside him, slow and smooth, letting your bare thigh brush his for just a second too long. He doesn’t even flinch.

You reach for his chips, eyes on the screen. “You sound stressed.”

He doesn’t look at you. “Because I’m carrying this squad. What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, your voice a little lower than usual. “Thought I’d come... unwind.”

He grunts in response, attention locked on the game. Typical.

You shift, pulling one leg up onto the couch, the hem of your hoodie riding just a little higher. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.

Nothing.

You lean back, arching slightly as you stretch your arms above your head. “Ugh. Today was exhausting.”

Still nothing.

You glance over, pouting a little. “Are you seriously not gonna pay attention to me?”

He finally spares you a glance. “You want attention?”

You meet his eyes and let your voice drop just a notch. “Maybe.”

There’s a pause. A tiny flicker in his gaze as it drops—briefly—to your bare legs, then back up. But then he just shrugs.

“I’m in the middle of a match.”

You lean in closer, lips inches from his ear, and whisper, “Your game will still be there in five minutes.”

He stiffens slightly, clearing his throat, but refuses to take the bait. “You’re acting weird.”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “No I’m not.”

He looks at you again, brows furrowed, suspicious—but not quite catching on. “You... eat something weird?”

You snort, flopping back against the cushions. “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing the throw blanket and tossing it over your lap. “Forget it.”

He focuses back on the game, but his movements are stiffer now. Less focused.

You smirk to yourself, biting your lip.

One step at a time.

You stretch out under the blanket, legs brushing against him again—this time not by accident. Haechan stiffens for half a second, then adjusts slightly, pretending not to notice.

Pretending badly.

You glance over and catch the way his jaw tightens. He’s losing focus. Good.

“You always this fun playing video games?” you ask, voice soft, with a hint of a tease. “All grumpy and bossy?”

He scoffs, eyes on the screen. “I’m not grumpy. I’m competitive.”

“Hmm.” You trail a finger along the seam of the blanket between you, slow and idle. “I think it’s kinda hot.”

This time, his head snaps toward you.

“What?”

You blink innocently. “What?”

He narrows his eyes, studying you. “What are you doing?”

You tilt your head, lips parted in a mock pout. “Talking. Sitting. Breathing. Why?”

“You’re being weird again.”

You smirk. “You said that already. Maybe you’re just reading into things.”

He looks at you, skeptical… then clearly decides not to push it. Instead, he returns to his game, but now he’s quieter. Shifting more in his seat. His hands are on the controller, but his head’s somewhere else—and you know exactly where.

You take your chance.

Slowly, you slide the blanket off your legs, exposing smooth skin and shorts that might as well not be there at all. You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flick over, quickly, like he didn’t mean to.

But you saw it.

You lean in again, resting your arm on the back of the couch behind him, lips dangerously close to his ear.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly, voice just a little too sharp. Defensive.

You grin. “You totally are.”

“Why are you even out here right now?”

“I told you. Couldn’t sleep.” You pause, letting the next words hang. “Thought maybe you’d help tire me out.”

He finally pauses the game. The room goes quiet.

His gaze slowly moves to yours—finally, fully focused. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle and doesn’t like how much of it he’s already solved.

“You’re messing with me,” he says, almost accusingly.

You let out a soft, amused breath. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Because Lisa dared you to? Because Jaemin put money on it? Or maybe you’re just bored.”

You lean back slightly, holding his stare. “Or maybe I’m just tired of waiting for someone else to make a move.”

His mouth opens slightly—then shuts again. No comeback this time.

You move to stand, stretching slowly. “Anyway, if you’re not interested…”

You turn to walk away—just a few steps—before you hear the soft clatter of his controller hitting the coffee table.

“Y/N.”

You stop. Look over your shoulder. “Hmm?”

His voice is low. Measured. Barely above a whisper.

“You can stay here”

“But you're no fun.” You smile—slow and victorious—and continue to head to your room.

Game on.

The next night, you decide to take things further.

It’s not like you’re trying to seduce him just to win a bet—though Lisa and Jaemin smug faces definitely motivate you—but Haechan started this war. And you? You’re finishing it.

Your outfit is technically sleepwear. Technically. A cropped baby tee that clings just right, and lace-trimmed boy-shorts that look more like underwear than shorts. You throw on one of Haechan’s hoodies for effect, letting it slip off one shoulder like it just happened to fall that way. You check yourself in the mirror. Hot. But casual. Chill. Sexy… but not desperate.

Okay, maybe a little desperate.

When you pad into the kitchen, it’s late. Lights are dim, just the microwave clock glowing blue, and Haechan at the counter in a pair of sweats, pouring cereal into a bowl. You lean against the fridge. “Midnight snack?”

He glances at you. Freezes. Eyes drop to your legs, up to his hoodie falling off your shoulder, then dart away like he didn’t see anything. “Uh—yeah.”

You cross the kitchen slowly, deliberately, hips swaying just a little too much. “You always eat Frosted Flakes like it’s a full-course meal?”

He stirs the cereal. “I was hungry.”

“Mmm. Me too.” You step beside him, reaching up into the cabinet for a glass even though you don’t need one, his hoodie rising just enough to expose the edge of your lace shorts. You know he notices—his spoon pauses mid-stir.

“You’re not wearing pants,” he says flatly, eyes fixed on his bowl.

You grin. “So observant. That’s new.”

“I’m not blind,” he mutters.

You grab a glass and fill it slowly at the sink, the silence heavy. Then you turn around and lean against the counter, sipping water like it’s wine, letting your gaze travel over him.

“You’re acting weird again,” he says without looking at you.

You tilt your head. “You always say that when you’re flustered.”

He finally looks up, squinting at you. “I’m not flustered.”

You take a step closer. “No?”

“Just… confused.”

Another step. “By what?”

He doesn’t back away, but his grip on the spoon tightens. “By you. One second you're swearing I’m the worst person in your life, and the next you’re—” His eyes flick over you again. “—doing whatever this is.”

You pretend to think, lips twitching. “You mean standing in my kitchen? Wearing my hoodie.”

He squints. Brow furrows.

You pause, watching the shift behind his eyes as it clicks.

“Wait.” He leans in a fraction, eyes narrowing at the fabric hanging off your shoulder. “Is that—?”

You smile sweetly. “—your hoodie? Yeah. looks better on me, doesn’t it?”

He blinks like he’s been hit. “Why are you wearing that?”

You take a step forward, chest brushing his arm, voice soft and teasing. “It was cold. And It smelled nice.”

“Y/N.”

You grin wider. “Yes?”

He exhales hard through his nose, looking at the hoodie again like it personally betrayed him. “You seriously just put on my clothes and strutted out here like nothing?”

“Would it have worked better if I crawled?”

He stares at you, completely thrown off now—spoon forgotten, cereal soggy in the bowl, brain short-circuiting. “You’re actually insane.”

“Funny,” you murmur, tracing a line down his chest with your finger, “you haven’t exactly told me to take it off.”

“Because I don’t know what’s happening,” he mutters.

You tilt your head, stepping in again, lips inches from his jaw. “Want me to spell it out for you?”

He swallows hard.

You smile, slow and dangerous. “I’m wearing your hoodie, Haechan. In your kitchen. At midnight. No pants. Do the math.”

And the look he gives you?

Yeah, he’s definitely doing the math now. But he still doesn't say anything.

“You’re so stupid sometimes” You trail a finger down the middle of his chest, right where the hoodie hangs loose. “But unfortunately, you’re also hot. Which is really inconvenient.”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Y/n…”

You reach up, tugging gently at the collar of his hoodie like it’s a leash. “You always show up when I’m about to hook up with someone else. But when it’s you? Suddenly you’re acting like I’m a bomb about to go off.”

He leans back slightly against the counter, unsure whether to stay or run. “Because you’re not serious.”

You blink at him. “Who says I’m not?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to x-ray through your intentions. You let the silence stretch.

Then you slowly push up on your toes, your lips brushing his jaw—not kissing, just close enough to make his breath catch.

“You gonna stop me?” you whisper.

He exhales sharply. “Maybe I should.”

You smile against his skin. “But you haven’t.”

And just like that, snap, something shifts.

His hand shoots up, gripping your waist—not hard, but firm. Controlling. Like he’s done pretending this isn’t happening. You gasp, just a little, your hands finding the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you flush against him.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispers but he doesn’t move away.

You grin, lips inches from his. “Maybe it is but I don’t care.”

His mouth crashes into yours. It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s the kind of kiss that comes after too much tension and not enough logic, all heat and frustration and barely restrained want. You curl your fingers in his hoodie, tugging him closer.

Then suddenly, he breaks it. Pulls back. Breathing hard. “Shit.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a step away. “This is…You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You kissed me back and now I’m the one not thinking clearly?”

“You said I’m your brother’s best friend.”

“I also said you’re hot.”

He stares at you like he’s at war with himself. “Mark would literally kill me.”

You walk forward, reaching for him again. “He’s not here.”

“I still have to live with myself,” he says, his voice wavering.

You lean in one last time, kissing the corner of his mouth, soft and slow. “Then live with this.”

And with that, you walk out of the kitchen, hips swinging, leaving him breathless and speechless in the glow of the microwave light.

You don’t look back but you know he’s watching.

Game on. And this time? You’re definitely winning.

The next few days?

Weird.

You don’t see Haechan around the apartment much. Which is wild, considering you live with him. When he is there, he’s conveniently in his room, headphones on, or mysteriously "out" right before you get home. He even bailed on movie night, claiming “Renjun said something came up,” but you know Renjun sitting two couches away from you eating popcorn.

It’s like he’s allergic to eye contact now.

And the worst part?

He’s perfectly normal around everyone else.

With Chenle and Jisung, he’s his usual chaotic, shit-talking self. Laughing, shouting at video games, raiding the fridge like nothing happened. But the second you walk in the room, he tenses. Quiet. Distant.

Awkward.

It’s driving you insane.

“I think he’s avoiding me,” you grumble, dragging a fry through your milkshake before flinging it into your mouth.

Lisa raises an eyebrow, sipping her iced coffee. “You think?”

“Okay, fine, I know he is. He’s literally hiding. Like a losing coward.”

Jaemin leans back in the booth, arms spread across the backrest, casually smug. “Should’ve crawled.”

You glare. “Do not start.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “You did the whole ‘I’m not seducing you unless you want me to’ bit. And now he’s spiraling. Mission accomplished?”

“Except now he won’t even look at me,” you huff. “What’s the point if he won’t face me?”

Lisa drums her nails on the table. “Okay. We need a new plan.”

“Oh no,” Jaemin mutters, already bracing himself.

Lisa sits up straighter, eyes gleaming. “This time, he is avoiding you so he won’t even notice while your gone and you can find another hot ass stranger to go home with—”

Jaemin suddenly starts laughing.

Like full-on laughing, shoulders shaking, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to keep it together but failing miserably.

You and Lisa both blink at him.

“What the hell is so funny?” you ask, unimpressed.

He wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye, snickering. “You. Both of you.”

Lisa frowns. “Excuse me?”

“A stranger, Lisa lets be real here, she doesn't want to have sex with a random stranger anymore...”

You narrow your eyes. “And what does that mean?”

Jaemin looks at you, all too smug. “Y/N… are you catching feelings for Haechan?”

Your brain stalls.

Lisa chokes on her drink.

“What?!” you sputter, nearly knocking over your shake. “No. No, no. This is just—revenge flirting. Remember.”

“Uh-huh,” Jaemin says, raising an eyebrow.

Lisa coughs. “Actually… that would explain the spiral.”

You whip your head toward her. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m just saying,” she says, holding up her hands, “if you’re this mad that he’s avoiding you? Might not be just about this little game you got going on anymore.”

You slump in your seat, covering your face. “Ugh. This is the worst.”

Jaemin grins, annoyingly pleased. “Told you this was gonna be fun.”

Lisa leans across the table, eyes sharp. “Okay. New plan.”

You groan. “Please stop saying that.”

She ignores you. “If he’s avoiding you, we make it impossible to avoid you.

You peek between your fingers. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Because you should,” Lisa says brightly.

Jaemin raises his drink like a toast. “To yet another plan.”

Lisa clinks her cup with his. “And this one will work.”

You roll your eyes but lift your cup anyway.

“We gotta stop doing these stupid toasts…”

The next night, you're sprawled on your bed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. The sheets are rumpled in just the right way, your lip gloss is freshly applied, and Jaemin’s voice is echoing through your phone speaker like he’s the creative director of a Vogue shoot.

“Okay, chin down a little. Not that much girl, you're not sad, you’re seducing.”

Lisa’s face pops up next to his on the group FaceTime, holding a glass of wine and looking entirely too amused. “Tilt your head. Hair over one shoulder. A little pout, like you just woke up from a wet dream.”

“I hate both of you,” you mutter, adjusting the camera angle again while balancing on one arm. “And why do I have to be on call with you two while doing this?”

“Because you want to win,” Jaemin says, completely unbothered. “Now arch your back just a little more. You’re giving ‘bored in bed,’ not ‘come fuck me.’”

Lisa snorts. “Yeah, you want him to see this and question everything. Like, should I even be looking at these? Should I send some back?”

You snap another photo—lips parted, one hand brushing your thigh, eyes soft but lethal.

Jaemin gasps. “That one. That’s the one.”

“I’m wearing a T-shirt,” you remind him.

Lisa shrugs. “You look hot. That’s what matters. Leave some room for his imagination”

You stare at the collection of photos in your camera roll—cute ones, sexy ones, one where you’re laughing mid-shot but somehow still hot. And one where you’re biting your lip, gaze aimed right at the lens like you’re in some kind of porno.

“Okay,” you whisper, heart thudding. “Now what?”

Lisa smirks. “Now you send it.”

Jaemin grins. “Accidentally.”

You pause. “You guys really think this’ll work?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Jaemin says, sipping his drink like this is theater, “the boy lost all motor function when you wore his hoodie. This’ll kill him.”

Lisa nods, an evil glint in her eye. “We’re not trying to flirt anymore.”

You exhale, hover over the message box, attach the photo—the photo—and type:

meant to send this to Lisa lol ignore 😳🙈

And then…

Send.

Silence.

Lisa covers her mouth. “Oh my god.”

Jaemin wheezes. “He’s either hard or praying.”

You drop back onto your bed, phone clutched to your chest, heart racing. “What do I do now?!”

Lisa grins. “Now we wait.”

You stare at the screen, the message still marked read.

No reply.

Not yet.

But you know he saw it.

Your pulse is thudding in your ears, phone still warm in your hand. Next to you, Lisa is holding her wine like she’s watching a murder mystery unfold in real time.

“He read it two minutes ago,” she whispers, eyes glued to her screen. “Why hasn’t he replied yet??.”

Jaemin leans closer to the camera, eyes wide. “He’s either in shock... or dead.”

“Maybe he dropped his phone,” you say, trying to convince yourself. “Like, physically dropped it from how hot I looked.”

Lisa smirks. “Or maybe he’s pacing around his room right now, fighting demons.”

You bite your lip, the silence growing heavier by the second. Your fingers twitch.

“Should I send something else?” you ask, panicked.

“No!” Lisa and Jaemin say in unison.

Jaemin sits up straighter. “Do not double-text. That gives him the power.”

“But what if he thinks I did it on purpose?” you groan, burying your face in your pillow.

Lisa snorts. “You did do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but he’s not supposed to know that!”

Another minute passes.

Still nothing.

“Okay,” you mumble, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling. “What if he’s like… genuinely mad or uncomfortable?”

“Y/N,” Jaemin says, tone suddenly more serious, “there is no straight man alive who gets a photo like that from a girl he likes and gets mad.”

You freeze. “Wait. You think he likes me?”

Lisa blinks. “Babe.”

Jaemin throws up his hands. “You wore his hoodie half naked and he hasn’t made eye contact with you since. He kissed you and then ran away like his soul left his body. And now you’ve sent him a ‘mistake’ thirst trap and he’s gone silent.”

Lisa finishes for him. “That man is probably jerking off.”

You don’t get a chance to respond.

Because right then—your phone buzzes.

You nearly drop it, heart leaping into your throat.

Haechan [1:07 a.m.]: lol definitely wasn’t meant for lisa

You sit straight up.

“What?!” Lisa screeches. “Read it out loud. Read it out loud.”

You do.

Jaemin lets out an unholy laugh. “Oh, he’s trying to play it cool. That means he’s LOSING it.”

Another text bubble appears before you can even respond.

The Devil (Haechan): you always look like that in bed or was that just for me?

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god.”

Lisa clutches her imaginary pearls. “Scandalous.”

Jaemin looks like he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment. “HE TOOK THE BAIT.”

Then—another one.

The Devil (Haechan): …not that I’m complaining. just curious.

You stare at the screen, completely stunned, heart racing like you just ran a marathon.

“What do I say?!” you whisper-shout. “What do I even do?!”

Lisa raises her wine like a toast. “You say: ‘depends. want to come see?’”

“Lisa!” you gasp.

You blink at them, brain buzzing, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Y/N: wouldn’t you like to know.

Three dots appear instantly. Then disappear. Then come back again.

You smirk—perfect—until you hear it.

Footsteps.

In the hallway. Getting closer.

Your smirk drops fast.

Lisa’s voice cuts through the speaker, amused. “Wait... is someone coming?”

You sit bolt upright, the bed sheets rustling. “Oh my god. You guys—shut up.”

Jaemin leans into the screen. “Is that—is that Haechan?!”

The footsteps stop. Right outside your door.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“SHITSHITSHIT,” you whisper, scrambling to throw a blanket over your bare legs, grabbing your phone like it’s evidence in a federal crime. “WHAT DO I DO?!”

Jaemin is laughing way too hard. “Oh no. It’s over for you. You’re cooked.”

A soft knock.

“Y/N?” Haechan’s voice. Muffled. Low.

You freeze.

Lisa mouths say something, but your brain has completely shut down.

You’re still staring at the door like it might disappear if you concentrate hard enough, mouth slightly open, frozen in place. Lisa is frantically whispering, “Say something!” while Jaemin holding his hands over his mouth.

Then—the doorknob turns.

You gasp, diving to grab your blanket tighter, like that’s going to save you.

The door opens slowly. And there he is.

Haechan. Loose black t-shirt hanging off his frame.Gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. Hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed—or maybe like he’s been running his hands through it since you sent that photo.

He steps into the room, quiet, calm, and annoyingly unreadable.

His eyes flick to your phone, still on FaceTime, where Lisa’s mouth is open in silent panic and Jaemin is making a dramatic “RIP” gesture across his neck.

Then he looks back at you.

And says, voice low, steady, and dangerous:

“Let’s hang up the phone… and see if you’re this confident without them.”

You don’t move.

Your heart is in your throat. Your stomach is in hell.

Lisa lets out a strangled squeak.

Jaemin straight up falls off-screen, you hear a loud thud, and maybe some screaming.

Your fingers are shaking as you scramble to end the call. You don’t even say goodbye—just one swipe and the screen goes black.

Silence.

Then—footsteps.

Haechan crosses the room, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing at the edge of your bed, looking down at you like he’s trying to decide if he should kiss you or arrest you.

“You really thought I wasn’t gonna say anything?” he murmurs.

You try to form a sentence. A word. A syllable. But all that comes out is a breathless, “Maybe.”

He tilts his head. “You sent me that picture on purpose.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. Then admit, softly: “...Yeah.”

His gaze drops, just for a second, to the oversized T-shirt hanging off your shoulder—the same one from the photo—and he exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying really hard not to let something slip.

“You looked like that…” he mutters, half to himself, “and thought I wouldn’t show up?”

You tug the blanket a little higher, heart hammering. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“And you’ve been taunting me,” he fires back, voice husky now.

You go quiet.

Because he’s right.

He leans in just a little just enough to crowd your space, eyes on yours. “You still think it’s a game, Y/N?”

You shake your head slowly. “Not anymore.”

Something flashes in his eyes—something hot and sharp and final.

“Good,” he whispers.

Then he reaches down and pulls the blanket away.

Your breath catches, sharp and immediate, heart thundering in your chest as cool air hits your bare legs. The oversized T-shirt rides dangerously high on your thighs, the very image he saw in the photo now real, right in front of him.

His eyes drag over you slowly, from your curled toes to the hem of the shirt barely covering anything. When his gaze finally meets yours again, it’s darker. Hungrier.

“Did you think I've been avoiding you because I don’t want you?” he asks.

You swallow hard, shaking your head.

“I was trying not to ruin everything,” he mutters, stepping closer to the bed. “Trying to be the good guy. For my friend. For you.”

You blink up at him, breathless. “And now?”

He exhales through his nose, gaze burning. “Now I don’t care.”

The mattress dips slightly as he leans in, one hand braced beside your hip, the other gently brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up until you’re looking straight at him.

“I don’t care that you’re my best friend’s sister,” he whispers, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I don’t care that this is probably a bad idea.”

You barely get the words out. “Then what do you care about?”

His mouth twitches like he might smile but doesn’t.

“I care that you keep looking at me like that,” he says. “Like you want me to do something.”

Your lips part. “Maybe I do.”

He leans closer, so close his nose brushes yours, and you feel his breath against your lips.

“Tell me to stop.”

You shake your head instantly. “Please don’t.”

And just like that he’s on you.

The kiss is fire. Raw. Messy. The kind that doesn’t ask for permission because it already knows the answer. His hands slide under the hem of the shirt, fingers splaying across your hips like he’s staking a claim.

You arch into him, fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl softly into your mouth.

He pulls back for just a second, forehead resting against yours.

“This isn’t just about the picture,” he says, voice ragged. “Or the game. This is me wanting you. Every time you walked into a room. Every time you laughed at something stupid. Every time you bent over in those shorts you wear around the house. Every time you licked your lips or touched your hair or did any of those little things that drive me crazy.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine. You’d never realized he’d been watching so closely—that every glance, every careless touch, or laughed a little too loud, he was memorizing it. Storing it. The thought makes your heart stutter. Because for the first time, you don’t just feel wanted—you feel seen. Completely.

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “I want you too, Haechan,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes briefly, like your words are a relief. Then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his body pressing against yours. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against your chest. Your hands roam over his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves.

He pushes you gently back onto your bed as his hands start to explore, tracing the curves of your body. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your shirt, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their place. You gasp into his mouth as he shifts, his body settling between your legs.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, your hands gripping his shoulders. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then moves lower, his hands pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose more skin.

You lift your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt off completely. He tosses it aside, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. You feel a flush spread across your cheeks, but you don't look away.

“Are you sure about this? I know you’ve never done this before.” His voice is gentle, but his eyes are intense, searching your face for any sign of doubt. But there’s none.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you echo, your voice steady and clear. You reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. “I want this. I want you.”

He lets out a soft breath, leaning down to capture your lips in another hot kiss. This time, it’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring every moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the weight of his body against yours.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping gently as he grinds against you, the friction sending sparks through your body. You gasp, breaking the kiss to arch your neck, and he takes the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as his mouth explores your collarbone, then lower, until he’s kissing the swell of your breasts.

You feel his hand at your back, unclasping your bra with a flick, and then it’s gone, tossed aside with your shirt. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

You reach for him, pulling him back down to you, your mouths crashing together in a hungry kiss. His hand cups your breasts. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You gasp into his mouth, arching into his touch. He takes his time, exploring every inch of your skin with his hands and his lips, like he's worshipping you. Like you're the most precious thing he's ever touched.

You tug at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against yours. He breaks away just long enough to pull it off, then he's back, his bare chest pressing against yours. You can feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own. His hands are everywhere, touching, teasing, driving you wild. You can feel the length of him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh.

You slip your hands down to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down. He kicks them off, never breaking the kiss. His body is hot and firm against yours, and you can feel the urgency in his movements as he presses against you, only the thin fabric of your shorts and his boxers separating you.

You roll your hips upward to meet his, causing a groan to escape his lips. “Please I need you”

“You’re not ready yet.” He pulls back slightly, his breath ragged. "Not yet," he murmurs.. You're about to protest, but his hand slips between your legs, his fingers tracing the edge of your shorts. Your breath hitches as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes never leaving yours.

He discards the fabric, you feel a flush spread across your skin but you don't look away. His hand slides up your thigh, his touch firm.

"You're trembling," he whispers, his thumb circling your inner thigh.

"Because I want you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he leans down, his lips brushing against your stomach, then lower

Then he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, and you gasp as his breath hits the most sensitive part of you. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire and something softer, more intimate. Like he’s seeing you, really seeing you, for the first time.

“Haechan,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly. He smiles, slow and reassuring, before lowering his head. The first touch of his tongue is electric, sending a shockwave through your body. You arch off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips. He takes his time, exploring every inch of you with a patience and skill that leaves you breathless.

Each flick of his tongue sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he brings you higher and higher. Your breath comes in short gasps, your heart pounding in your chest. The sensation builds and builds until it he suddenly pulls away.

“Not yet baby, I have to stretch you out first.”

He moves back up your body, his lips finding yours in a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, and it sends a new wave of heat through you. His hand slips between your legs again, but this time, he gently eases a finger inside you, his thumb circling your clit. You gasp into his mouth, your body tensing slightly.

"Relax," he murmurs against your lips. "I've got you."

You force yourself to breathe, to relax into his touch. He takes his time, stretching you slowly, adding another finger when he feels you're ready. It's intense, almost overwhelming, but his touch is so sure, so gentle, that you can't help but trust him.

His mouth moves to your neck, his kisses are soft and reassuring. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as his fingers curl inside you, stroking a spot that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl. Your hips lift to meet his hand, your body craving more of his touch. He responds with a low groan, his eyes darkening as he watches you writhe beneath him.

His fingers curve inside you, pressing against a spot that makes you see stars. You cry out, digging your nails into his back, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. He continues to work you open, "You're so responsive. You were made for me.”

His thumb circles your clit faster, harder, and you can feel the tension building again, coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.

"Haechan," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need—I need—"

"shh I know baby, I know what you need," he whispers hot against your ear. You’re doing so good for me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There's a question in his gaze, a silent check-in to make sure you're still with him, still wanting this. You nod, biting your lip, urging him on. He smiles, a soft, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter, and then he's moving again, his body aligning with yours.

He reaches down, grabbing his wallet from his discarded sweatpants and pulls out a condom. You watch as he tears open the packet and rolls it on, your heart pounding. He sees you watching and smiles softly, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and reassuring.

"You're sure?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yes," you breathe out, your voice steady and sure. "I want this, Haechan. I want you."

He nods, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling back to look into your eyes. He positions himself at your entrance, his breath hitching slightly as he feels your heat. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close, your eyes locked onto his.

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. You gasp, your nails digging into his skin as you feel him filling you. It's intense, almost overwhelming, but the look in his eyes—so tender and so focused all at once—keeps you grounded.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint.

You nod, lifting your hips to meet his. "Don't stop," you whisper.

He lets out a low groan, his forehead dropping to your neck as he begins to move. Slowly at first, then with more urgency as your body responds to his. You wrap your legs around his waists, your hips lifting to meet each thrust. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping.

He takes his time, his rhythm steady and controlled, even as you can feel the tension in his body, the restraint it takes to hold back.

"You feel so good, Y/N," he murmurs into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking good baby,"

You cling to him, your body moving in sync with his, your breath coming in short gasps. The room is filled with the sounds of your skin connecting, the soft moans and whispered words that pass between you. You can feel the pressure building again, the coil of tension in your stomach tightening with each thrust.

He leans back slightly, changing the angle, and you cry out as he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars. He grins.

“There it is again,” he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hot, messy kiss as he hits that spot over and over, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

You can feel the sweat on his skin, the tension in his muscles as he holds back, waiting for you. Your body responds to his, your hips meeting each thrust, your breath coming in sync with his. The room is filled with the sounds of your skin connecting, the soft moans and whispered words that pass between you.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. You can see the question in his eyes, the silent check-in to ensure you're still with him, still wanting this. You nod, biting your lip, urging him on.

“Fuckk I’m gonna—” Your body shakes, “Mmm gonna cum.”

He lets out a low groan, his hips moving faster. "Me too, baby. Fuck me too."

Your breath hitches, your body tensing as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. You cry out, your nails gripping the sheets, your body convulsing around him. He buries his face in your neck, his body shaking with his own release as he follows you over the edge.

The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies slick with sweat as you cling to each other. He stays there, buried inside you, his heart pounding against yours as you both come down from the high.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that takes your breath away. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, so gentle and so tender that it makes your heart ache. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He responds instantly, his body relaxing into yours, his hands gently stroking your sides. It's a stark contrast to the urgency of moments before, but it feels just as right, just as perfect.

As the kiss slows, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "More than okay."

He grins, rolling off you gently and disposing of the condom before pulling you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slows to a steady rhythm. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You’re lying tangled in sheets, breath still uneven, heart still racing, a ridiculous smile tugging at your lips.

“So like,” you murmur, turning to him with a smug little smirk, “I totally won.”

Haechan lets out a low laugh beside you, one arm slung over his eyes like he’s exhausted—but still amused. “You think you won?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, hair a mess and eyes gleaming. “Uh, yeah. I was the one who wanted to lose my virginity. I did. Game over. I win.”

He turns his head toward you, a lazy, teasing grin spreading across his face. “Interesting logic.”

“It’s not logic, it’s fact,” you shoot back, poking his chest. “I reached my goal. Mission accomplished. Trophy secured.”

Haechan hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face. “Except… I’m the one who had the key to your little chastity belt the whole time.”

You stare at him for a moment—then snort. “Oh my god. You did not just say that.”

“I did,” he says proudly, hand sliding over your hip. “So really… if you think about it I won...”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re insufferable, that doesn't even make sense.”

“And yet,” he says, tugging you closer with a smirk, “you still lost. To me, this definitely feels like a win.”

You huff dramatically, curling into him anyway. “Whatever. It was a mutual win.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Fine. Shared victory.”

“…But if we really think about it I won,” you add, grinning.

He groans. “God, help me.”

Dream/General Taglist: @haechansbbg @johnnysuhbmarine @lostinneocity @talkingsaxy @naqkja @anaisalive @chenlesfeetpic @vampgege @jaeminnanaaa17 @wookiebearz @zen00016 @haolovre

Interacted with preview: @sundamariis @nah140508 @luverboyhyuck @lovelyannoyingcher @yuthabitz @httpsxnox @markiesfatbooty @nineooooo @gomdoleemyson @smwhrinthehaze @ambi01 @zhapire @ncitysblog @grimlinshere @sunflowerhae @ohmysion @spacejip @bookiebears-stuff @next-read-please @caaally @jaeminnanaaa17

#haechan #donghyuck #haechan fluff #nct dream haechan #haechan x reader #nct haechan #lee haechan #donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck #donghyuck imagines #haechan smut #NCT dream #NCT dream smut

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twopoppies · 3 days ago

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Well that happiness was short lived.. what in the actual f**k? I'm a newbie and I'm already sick of this🤣 how do you do it? First Louis..now Harry? Not sure if it means they are together or we are just delusional 🙄..it's a sad day for the Fandom

It’s not sad, at all, darling. It’s truly par for the course. If you scroll down on my blog, just one or two posts, you’ll see that I was literally just said that if what went on this weekend was a Band-Aid because Harry‘s about to have another PR relationship, I’m gonna need to hibernate for a while. They do this all the fucking time.

The sad thing is, there really isn’t a good reason for Harry to be kissing some woman, whoever she is. Enough people think he only dates women, this isn’t going to bring him any kind of publicity that’s going to help his career, she’s not more famous than he is so it’s not helping in that way, and it only adds to the “bad kisser“ allegations.

All this does is make Larry’s dig their heels in and say that nothing proves it more that they’re together, than that they once again did something to “prove Larry” right before they did something to “upset larries.”

If you’re new and want to stay and lose your mind, I suggest ignoring people who insist every little thing that happens is 1. Leading up to babygate ending, and 2. “The friendship narrative” is starting, or 3. Harry and/or Louis coming out.

Some day those things will happen (minus the friendship—who knows with that one?), but I really really doubt they’ll leave a trail of breadcrumbs before it does.

It’s okay to be happy and excited when something like Louis liking the post happens. IMO, it only goes to show that they are still together. Even if it was 100% planned. Louis’ demeanor today says everything to me. But don’t let yourself get so certain it means what you want it to mean, that you end up depressed when it inevitably doesn’t. You know what I’m saying?

People always ask how I’m still here after 13 years. Besides what I said above, my only additional advice Is to people who keep their feet on the ground to talk about this stuff with, and take a break when it gets to be too much. ❤️

#glastonbury 2025 #stunts #coded clothing #larry at glastonbury #harry at Glasto

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gin-juice-tonic · 20 hours ago

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Hi! I really love your comics and the 80s ford sim! The time you took to make it is amazing and I like reading the dialogue you post :D I love seeing transfalls comics and just, the dialogue and scenarios are a comforting and funny read!

I was wondering if you have any advice or tips on how to write Ford? Have a wonderful day!

Hello, thank you for the nice words. I'm happy you like my things.

Instead of telling you my own beliefs about how Ford acts/talks specifically, I thought maybe I could break this advice down into something more general. At least to start. Writing for a pre-existing character to me is generally broken up into two big things: Their Personality Traits and their Manner of Speech.

When you are trying to figure out how to write someone, I think it would be helpful to think about things that really stand out in your memory that they either did or said, and then try to find commonalities between those things. And what they have in common may indicate a character trait or the way they talk.

If we were to use Ford as an example, some things I think of when I think of him are (under the cut):

The grin on his face when describing his very illegal infinity-sided die in DDmD, His "My face is on fire!" stunt from vs the Future, and his re-arranging of Fiddlefords cube in J3.

If we were to look at what these moments have in common, I would say they indicate Ford is a bit mischievous.

Another set: his "Princess Unattainabelle beckons you" from DDmD, his "Say Hop! It helps!" and "Your turn!" after using his magnet gun in vs the Future, and his general love of puns in the Journal.

I think these are all good examples of Ford's goofier side. That he's a playful guy.

Those would fall under the Character Traits half of writing him.

For the Manner of Speech bit, it helps to look at how certain lines are structured, or the context under which he says them. These examples will be a little longer due to being a whole line written out...

Set #1:

"On the dark, weird road I travel, I'm afraid you cannot follow. ...Welp! call me for dinner!" From DDmD

"If I rolled it, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly. The world could turn into an egg! ...Or you could just roll an 8. Who knows." Also from DDmD

"So this is how the world ends, not with a Bang, but with a Boop-Boop." From Weird Part 1

All three of these lines have Ford speak in a manner that gives the feeling he is talking about something of some importance/seriousness. Only for him to end his line with something silly and tone breaking. He does this pretty often I feel. Or at least I'm guilty of overusing it, because I always find it funny lol.

Set #2:

"I like this kid! She's weird!" From Tale of Two Stans

"Your math is no match for my gun, you idiot!" From DDmD

"I can assure you if there's an owl in this bag he's long dead." From Last Mabelcorn

There's three different moods going on in these lines, happy, mad, and just kinda neutral. But personally I find them all to be instances of Ford speaking in a very frank manner.

Now, further context in this case is I think important here. This is sort of in a way a variation of the first set I mentioned, because outside of these lines Ford spends a lot of his dialogue speaking in a more formal, intellectual/eloquent way. So this is sort of another way he breaks his own tone.

Another notable piece of context about these three lines is they're all reactions to something said/done by someone else. (The first and third are after talking to Mabel, the second being a reaction to a threat from Probabilitor.)

So to put that all together, you get "Breaking his standard manner of speech, Ford (sometimes) reacts in a frank manner to other characters." Generally this happens as a joke.

So those are some examples. Of both the character trait thing and the speech pattern stuff. I did them as sets, but if an individual line or action feels prominent enough, you could analyze it by itself too.

Obviously there's a lot about Ford that this doesn't encompass, but I hope the method helps you think about how to portray what YOU see in Ford. And you do not have to follow the way I view him. "What lines/things stand out to you" is going to be different for person to person. Maybe you have other lines/ideas you find more defining for him, or maybe even viewing the same lines/ideas, you have different feelings of what they indicate. That's okay too.

#ask stuff #long post #i hope that made sense

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s1ll13rg00s3 · 2 days ago

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Girl lmao no, you said "no man has ever been raped to death" you didnt specify anything beyond that. It's kind of ridiculous in the first place to separate "killed solely from the act of rape" from all other sexual homicide to the point where I don't think it would be something you could get very good data on. And anyway, while women do inflict sexual violence on men (at much lower rates than men inflict sexual violence on women) I don't feel any particular obligation to prove that to you, I didn't make a massive post saying women rape to death 163849382748 little boys a year lmao.

Your source for the beauty statistics is shit, which was my point. So it doesn't matter what numbers are on that weird random website.

You don't know how to interpret the reputable sources that you have on there and are making wild blanket claims from unrelated studies with very limited sample sizes from two decades ago.

So, yes. You are making easy work for anyone who wants to call you hysterical, as is anyone endorsing this post without reviewing your sources. People are eager to label feminists as hysterical or making up problems to advance their interests (deceptive) and stuff like this does their work for them.

Statistics- Again

men constitute 97% of (non fatal) strangulation attacks

men constitute 99% of acid attacks

men constitute 99.99% of child pornography

men constitute 98% of mass shootings

men constitute 99.8% of rapists

men constitute 86% of homicides

men constitute 95% of forcible incest

men constitute 99.99% of child sex abuse

men constitute 99% of molesting cases

men constitute 96% of domestic violence/abuse

men constitute 99% of drugging

men constitute 90% of stalking

men constitute 99.99% of human trafficking perpetrators

men constitute 99% of sex trafficking abuse

Men constitute 99% of animal abuse

Men constitute 98% of bestiality

_________________________Original Post_________________________

92.6% of makeup companies are male

97% of all creative directors are male

98% of modeling agencies are male

92% of fashion media is male

96% of the fashion industry is male

___________________________Rape_________________________

Women are 21x more likely to get raped, yet this is seriously underreported considering the dead bodies

1/3 of all women internationally report being sexually assaulted. we know this number to be much higher due to autopsies reported in the census

Women are 400,000,000x more likely to DIE from RAPE than a man

not one man has ever died from rape, accounts for no coroner report ever, whereas tens of thousands of women and children die a year.

i tried to find a statistic refuting this but i could not

________________________Sex Trafficking________________________

50 million women are sex trafficking victims

women make up for 95% of labor trafficking

70% of child labor is FEMALE

25 million women are forced into child marriages

650 million girls are in arranged marriages/ marriages consummated below the age of consent

_________________________Fetish / Kink_________________________

Men make up most 98% on average of every fetish community

Men make up 99% of pedophilia.

10% of men are pedophiles

_________________________International_________________________

in 70 countries - that comprise 26% of the world population, women need men's permission to learn, work, or travel.

There are 50 countries in which the law states you can sell and buy women into marriage. - These countries, including India and Pakistan, make up 38% of the entire world.

There are 178 countries that do not have the same legal rights for women, where written law specifically excludes women from freedom.

There are 2.4 billion women globally who are born in countries that have written law that restricts them completely, but even more so without a man.

6 billion people believe in a religion that states that women are less human than men

_________________________Original Post_________________________

Infographic Sources

_________________________More Studies_________________________

Study on objectification

Study on empathy

Some Fashion Industry Stats & Sources

Infographic

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marvelthunderbolts · 15 hours ago

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hey friend! i love your blog already lol. i was hoping you could elaborate on your recent post about bob and how he likely hasn’t had any meaningful relationships due to his drug use in the past.

id love to see some smut with just all out whiney and animalistic bob. just full of desperation. as nasty and filthy as you want!!

diva thank you ! of course i will elaborate on my thoughts about bob from this post.

bob has a kind heart, despite the addiction and the underlying issues that he has yet to address with a proper therapist. if sentry never happened, if thunderbolts never happened, he absolutely would have continued using. most likely until he died in some tragic way. i highly doubt that when he was actively using, he would want to pursue a relationship with anyone, not wanting someone to get caught up in what he was dealing with. he, as the thunderbolts saw in the infamous chicken suit, dealt with the side effects of aggression and paranoia. that, paired with the withdrawals he was most likely going through and actively probably losing his mind because of the drug, did not pair well for anything romantic.

even his friends that he could have had during that time, i like to imagine they were other drug users. some let him crash at their place, but they would just be continuing to use drugs. you can’t make a meaningful relationship like that, especially since his parents weren’t very heart-to-heart with him.

so when the thunderbolts came along and he didn’t have access to the stuff that made him a paranoid or violent person, he was able to form connections with a level head. while the drug ( at the time ) could have increased his sex drive, the come down and lack thereof afterwards was probably fucking with his head when it came to all things sex. because now, for the first time in his life, he was getting horny while completely sober.

and bob has never had sex sober, or any sex at all, depending on how you feel about it. like i said, he was an addict, he would have done anything to get his hands on something ( he went to malaysia with what i assume was the remainder of his money at the time where one can assume what the end goal was going to be if he didn’t find a purpose and/or more drugs ). he’s experienced, but he either doesn’t remember it or the thought of it now makes his stomach twist into a dark pit.

when he does get into a relationship, it’s like a second puberty for bob. he was literally addicted to drugs while still in middle school so i DOUBT he has a normal time with puberty in the first place. and you can be experienced or not on your end, but you still probably know more about real intimacy than he does.

but bob can’t even watch porn after knowing what it feels like to be touched in a way that isn’t harmful. your hands always feel so soft against his skin, the tips of your fingers brushing against the dark curls atop his head in a way that makes his eyes turn soft and legs feel like mush. it can’t be recreated outside of what you guys have together. which means that when bob is horny . . . he needs you.

his need for you is carnal and desperate and hungry, nothing like he has ever experienced before. it’s very reminiscent to him of an actual drug, but there’s no pain attached to those gross memories ( however faint they could be, they tend to blend together ). it doesn’t make him feel gross, but the way that he wants you should be considered gross. he knows you’re a busy person, whether or not you are a part of the new avengers, you have a life outside of him.

but he can’t help it when he watches you do anything, even something as mundane as just reading a book, which you are supposed to be doing with bob. a couple's activity that should be sweet and innocent, but his mind is drawn to the way that your fingers brush against the pages, how sometimes he lick your finger to turn the page properly. how your mouth looks when you take a drink of something. bob has never wanted to be an inanimate object so bad in his life, only so he could be touched by you in the same way.

and you always feel his eyes on you, it doesn’t take long before you pick your head up to finally look at him, to which he is quick to look away. “are you alright ?” you ask, even though you know the answer. he’s squirming in his seat, tugging at a sleeve or the collar of his shirt because suddenly it feels like a thousand degrees in the room you’re in.

“y-yeah ! so good.” he’ll nod, very unconvincingly. he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it, which is a very obvious sign that he is lying. like he feels guilty about it, which he does, but the flush of his cheeks from the guilt mixes with the arousal that is coursing through him. it’s hard to tell what he feels more bad about.

you put the book down to go over to him, gently lowering yourself onto his lap. the warmth from your body is already enough to send him into overdrive. he’s always hesitant to touch you at first, even if he’s looking at you like some kind of living god ( funny coming from the man who is a god when he’s sentry ). you have to place your hands on him, usually starting at your waist so he can get used to it.

noises happen fast from bob, gentle sighs as he squeezes your waist and hips. he can’t believe how lucky he is to get to touch you in this way. you’re his. bob has never had anything that was just his; there was always a limit to something that he had, or he never owned it in the first place. but he knew there was no limit with you, at least, he wouldn’t let there be a limit.

“just look so pretty sitting there.” he murmured out, fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin against his hand.

worship. that’s how bob views touching you, absolute worship.

“i’m just reading.” you’d hum out, but bob is barely listening. his eyes are trained on the plush of your lips, his own practically trembling with need. you indulge him, as you always do. he responds to your affection with an intensity always found in him. he always kisses you like it’s the first time. hesitant at first, before he finds where he should put his hands. they’ll eventually move to your face as he cradles it within his palms.

but the heat turns up the more you kiss, because eventually you start tugging on his chestnut curls. or you grip his bicep. or your chest presses against his and he will ALWAYS groan when he feels that. bob is a boob guy, no matter the shape or size. just something so plush and comforting about them that makes his throat feel a bit tighter. “sooo pretty.” he’ll repeat against your lips, because you are. but he has to repeat it, he’ll repeat it every time.

and the more you kiss the needier he becomes. your hands suddenly feel hotter than hell against his and he’s already trying to concentrate on not bucking his hips into yours to relieve the ache in his loins. he wants to be better at not cumming before you, doesn’t want to keep embarrassing himself. you can tell a part of him relishes in that humiliation, though, the way you coo and pet his face like he’s some kind of dog. he always makes it up to you in the end.

and i think because he has never had a relationship like this, because you aren’t just using him and he isn’t using you. he fucks reverently. you aren’t giving him meth after this, you’re just giving him YOU.

which to bob, means more to him than any high he’s ever had in his life.

#⌣ㅤ` bob reynolds #⌣ㅤ` bob reynolds x reader #⌣ㅤ` bob reynolds smut #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds smut #robert reynolds #sentry #thunderbolts #BOBBBBB #i didn’t wanna go too crazy so i could save for other freak asks #but come on he’s crazy about his partner #meaningful like this MEANS the world to him #my doll i wanna brush and put a nice sweater on

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vera-deville · 15 hours ago

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Lips Like Trouble, Eyes Like Yours

06/30/2025 - 07/02/2025

Pairing: Jamil Viper x Reader Word Count: 4,269 Warnings: PRETTY suggestive; the reader keeps making spicy jokes and stuff, and that's what started this whole fic Tags: @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: This was originally going to be part of a 5 + 1 things fic, but I ended up writing the characters separately, and even though I started with Trey, I ended up finishing Jamil's fic first. Also, inspired by this post. Masterlist

Potionology with Professor Crewel was a class that you didn't actually mind attending - not because you were particularly good at it, but rather because you enjoyed watching the drama that unfolded when students inevitably blew something up. However, today, your source of entertainment sat directly beside you.

Jamil Viper.

Flawless posture, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms, and that sharp, aloof gaze focused on the cauldron like the fate of the world rested on getting the temperature just right. He moved like someone born into precision - deliberate, practiced, untouchable.

And by the Sevens, did that make him an irresistible challenge.

You leaned onto the lab table, one manicured hand supporting your chin while the other lazily stirred the base mixture of honeyroot and belladonna in your shared cauldron. Your eyes flicked over to Jamil's profile, watching as he measured out the powdered mandrake root with military precision.

"Is it supposed to bubble like that?" You asked sweetly, voice dipped in honeyed feigned innocence.

Jamil didn't even glance at you. "The bubbles are normal. We're at the catalytic stage."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Hmmm...I wonder if it's reacting to your natural hotness."

This time, his hand faltered - just barely - but you saw it. A beat of hesitation in his otherwise flawless technique. You smirked.

Bingo.

"You do realize that this is a graded assignment?" He muttered without looking at you, lips tightening.

"Oh, of course," You replied, stirring the brew with a deliberately slow swirl. "I'm just making conversation. I find it helps the potion's vibes when the room has a bit of...chemistry."

Jamil exhaled through his nose. "That's not how alchemy works."

"Isn't it?" You teased, leaning over to glance at the thickening potion in his beaker. Your shoulder brushed against his arm. "You're awfully tense, Jamil. You should let me massage your shoulders after this."

"I'd rather keep my spine intact, thank you."

"You wound me." You pouted dramatically, batting your lashes at him.

"You're going to ruin the stirring ration if you keep fluttering like that."

Sevens, he was so stoic. But not immune. You could see the tension in his jaw now, the ever-so-faintest dust of redness on the tips of his ears. He was trying so hard not to engage. It only made the game that much more fun~

The potion had begun to take on a soft violet hue, meaning that it was time to add the purified dew essence. Jamil reached for the vial carefully, concentration etched into every line on his face.

You leaned in, close enough to count his lashes, your voice low and sultry as your breath ghosted across the shell of his ear, "Careful, Jamil...one drop too fast and things might explode. Wouldn't be the first time a little tension caused something to blow."

His grip faltered.

The vial slipped just slightly, but enough - a splash of dew essence fell into the cauldron all too soon. The mixture hissed with the tenacity of a rattlesnake before erupting into a dramatic puff of violet smoke, swirling with glittering sparks and the undeniable scent of singed lavender.

You both coughed.

Professor Crewel turned so fast, his coat flared like a dramatic cape (which you suppose was exactly that in a way).

"Y/L/N! Viper! What is the meaning of this?" He snapped, heels clicking rapidly toward your table.

Jamil opened his mouth, clearly ready to take the blame, but you were faster.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," You said, wide-eyed and innocent. "That was my fault. I knocked Jamil's elbow by mistake."

You didn't miss the sharp side-glance Jamil gave you. Crewel narrowed his eyes.

"Hmph. Typical of you to treat my class like a fashion runway. Perhaps if you focused on your brewing instead of making doe eyes at your lab partner, you wouldn't be sabotaging his work, which through extension is yours as well."

You bowed your head. "Yes, Professor."

The scolding went on for another minute before Crewel finally snapped his fingers to clean up the mess and stalked off in a flurry of expensive cologne and disdain over his students' shenanigans.

You turned your head slightly to peek at Jamil. He was staring at you, his brows drawn together - slightly in annoyance, but more so in confusion. Something a tad unreadable.

"What?" You asked, smiling. "Surprised I'd take the blame for once?"

"I'm surprised you didn't let me take it." He said, voice softer than before. "Most people do."

Your expression softened (just a little, mind you). "Well, I'm not most people."

He was quiet again. His eyes lingered on you for a second too long, then returned to the fresh beaker of ingredients. His cheeks were a little flushed now.

You sat back in your chair with a satisfied sigh. "Besides," You added, flipping your hair over your shoulder, "Now you owe me~"

"I don't owe you anything," He muttered, but the words lacked their usual venom. He didn't meet your eyes.

Oh yes. The walls were cracking.

And you couldn't wait to keep pushing.

It all began with a simple errand.

Jamil had been tasked with delivering a set of enchanted scrolls to one of the faculty offices across campus (a rare occasion when Yuu wasn't called to the job). Normally, he'd have used some other method to do it alone and in silence - no fuss, no nonsense. Just efficient. That was the plan.

Until you spotted him unlocking his magic carpet outside Scarabia's dorm, scrolls neatly bundled beneath one arm, and a look of focused intention etched onto his face.

You slid up beside him with a little hum of interest, your eyes raking over the floating carpet with mock curiosity. "Running away from all your adoring fans, Viper?" You purred, arms behind your back as you leaned in slightly. "Or is this your version of a gallant escape?"

Jamil (as usual) didn't even spare you a full glance. "It's an errand."

"Even better," You said, stepping onto the edge of the carpet like it was the red carpet at a gala. "Let me tag along. I could use a break...and besides, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to straddle something that responds to your every command."

That got a reaction. Jamil's shoulders stiffened just slightly - a crack in his typically composed armor. He exhaled slowly, eyes forward, face unreadable.

"It's not a toy."

"Oh, sweetheart," You cooed as you sat down behind him with practiced ease, brushing imaginary lint from your miniskirt. "Neither am I."

With a sharp mutter under his breath and a reluctant motion of his hand, the carpet lifted into the air, floating smoothly over the campus grounds. The breeze tousled your hair and his, the sun casting a glow across his face - focused, serene, and unfairly handsome.

You, of course, couldn't resist.

Leaning forward, you gentle wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the taut definition beneath his robes. "Safety first," You said sweetly into his ear. "Wouldn't want to fall off...though I imagine falling into your arms wouldn't be the worst thing."

Jamil's fingers clenched tighter around the tassels. "You're perfectly stable without clinging to me," He muttered.

"Maybe," You whispered, letting your lips graze the shell of his ear just enough to make him flinch, "But I like how you feel."

He faltered for a split second - the carpet dipping slightly before steadying. You smiled smugly.

"You know," You continued, dragging your hands along his sides, "I've always had a thing for strong, silent types. Especially ones who know how to handle...sensitive equipment."

The tassels twitched in his hands.

You tsked gently. "Tense much? Maybe you need to relax. Should I give you a shoulder rub? Or maybe a kiss for bravery?"

He turned his head slightly - just enough for you to see the tightness in his jaw and the faint, stubborn oink burning in his cheeks. "Stop talking."

You pressed your cheek to his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "'It's criminal, really. Just the two of us on a floating carpet, your body between my legs, the wind in my hair...feels like the setup for something a little less PG."

Jamil's back tensed even more beneath you.

"Oh, don't get shy now," You purred, voice dipping like melted chocolate. "You're the one steering. I'm just here...enjoying the view." You slid your hand slowly down his arm. "And the ride."

His fingers visibly twitched, still gripping the tassels with all his life force.

"What really gets me," You continued, your breath brushing the edge of his jaw, "is how you've managed to keep your composure. All this heat, all this tension - and if he gripped the tassels any tighter, they might've snapped.

Jamil's grip tightened again, and this time the carpet pitched into a sudden, dramatic turn - a clear attempt to throw you off his rhythm or distract you into silence.

It didn't work.

You shrieked with laughter, clutching him tighter. "Are we doing tricks now?" You giggled into his shoulder. "Because I'm flexible, but I didn't bring a helmet!"

He groaned low in his throat, but it was too late. You were fully in your element now - lounging behind him with legs cross, hair wind-tossed, and the look of a mischief goddess on your face.

Eventually, with exasperation practically radiating from every movement, Jamil directed the carpet down in front of Ramshackle Dorm. You made no move to dismount.

"Home already?" You asked innocently, trailing your hand up his arm. "And here I thought we'd take the scenic route. Maybe stop by the woods, find a quiet little clearing...share secrets, maybe more-"

"Off."

You blinked.

He didn't even look at you. His ears were slightly pink, his jaw locked. But his voice was level, if strained. "Off the carpet."

You sighed dramatically. "You're no fun."

You dismounted with theatrical flair, smoothing your skirt and tossing your hair back as if stepping down from a royal procession. "But thanks for the ride, darling," You said over your shoulder. "If you ever need help...handling your gear again, you know where to find me."

Jamil didn't respond.

He didn't even look at you.

He simple snapped his fingers, and the carpet whipped back into the air with a swish and vanished into the sky, leaving a faint blush behind and a smirk on your lips.

The stately, mirrored dance room in Night Raven College's athletics wing was usually reserved for ballet or ceremonial formations. But these days, the pounding beats of off-beat music echoed between the walls as Jamil Viper practiced his own stress-relief routine - a private break-dance choreography born from hours of restless tension, endless assignments, and a mind that seldom shuts off.

You found him there in the late afternoon: the sun streaming through high windows, dust motes glittering in shafts of light. He moved with controlled confidence - spins, slides, freezes - all executed with the kind of graceful precision that only someone who had practiced dance for years could muster. His demeanor was calm, composed, yet there was excitement, passion in his movements. A true king in his element.

For you, it was an absolutely irresistible opportunity.

You slipped in behind him, every bit the vision of sultry control: a wine-colored dress with a ruffled hem that clung to curves and teased glimpses of skin with each shift, paired with slender heels that clicked faintly across the polished floor. You drew in a breath - rich, self-satisfied - before stepping forward and clapping once, sharply.

He froze mid-move, head snapping up, brow arched. You pressed a hand to your chest, feigning surprise.

"Ooh, Jamil..." You murmured. "I didn't realize break-dance classes were part of your daily routine."

He slid his foot out of a pose and smoothed back stray hair. "You said you'd leave me alone."

You smiled wickedly. "Who? Me?" Jamil sighed in exasperation. "Even if I did, you just...looked so tempting."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not practicing for an audience."

You tilted your head. "Is that why you paused mid-step? Because I showed up?"

He didn't respond.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you drifted toward the speaker, Jamil's phone resting beside it - your target. You tapped the screen, fingers gliding with casual intent - but the lock screen blinked back at you, cold and unyielding. No surprise there. Jamil wasn't the type to give away access lightly (as any responsible person should).

You picked up the phone, letting your gaze linger on it a moment longer than necessary, then turned and made your way back to him. He didn't look up right away, but you could feel the shift in the air as you approached.

Holding the phone out, you met his eyes. "Mind unlocking this for me?"

His jaw tightened - just slightly. Irritation flickered behind his gaze, but so did something else. Without a word, he took the phone and unlocked it, his fingers moving fast, precise. Then he handed it back, his touch brushing yours for half a second too long.

He didn't say a thing. He didn't have to.

You typed something into the search bar, intent on making sure that Jamil couldn't see you fiddling with his phone. The speakers started blaring again, and then you set the phone back where it originally was. The music began again, washing over you - elegant, flowing, rhythmic.

Extracting a corner of the toe of your heel, you dragged a clean line down the floor - a slow, deliberate movement.

Jamil's eyes narrowed - half irritation, half something else. You stepped across the hardwood floor, the rhythm from the speaker guiding you.

One-two-three, one-two-three.

Your heels pivoted lightly, sliding into the familiar cadence. A waltz. Or rather, the footwork for it, anyway.

You moved through the basic steps - slow turns, sweeping glides - the ruffles on your dress fluttering around your figure with every rise and fall. No partner. Just you and the music.

You watched Jamil with the eye of a hawk. Circling closer, footwork still carrying that elegant sway, you stepped into his space, and lifted your arms, one brushing his shoulder, and the other sliding neatly into his hand.

His body went rigid.

Your voice was lavender and velvet. "Waltz with me."

"I'd rath-" He started, tone clipped.

You tilted your head, fingers tightening slightly where they rested. "Dance with me."

He hesitated.

But your steps were already drawing him in, guiding him through the tempo - subtle turns, measured breath, contact that sparked more than rhythm. And for a moment, he followed. Not just because he wanted to. But because he couldn't help it.

You smiled.

You led him into the simple hold - right hand to his shoulder, left hand in his - and pressed forward onto the floor. The swell of a smooth, orchestral Viennese waltz began playing. The ruffles on your dress continued to swirl according to your movements; now with Jamil's stance recast from audience to partner.

Despite you leading him into the dance, Jamil naturally took the lead and guided you carefully with that firm, practiced grip.

One-two-three, one-two-three.

The steps were measured. The turn was tight. The closeness familiar yet thrilling.

"I didn't know you could dance like this," You murmured, voice low enough only he'd hear.

He blinked. "I can dance many styles."

Jamil was a practiced dancer, gifting you perfect posture and fluid motion. You used this chance to brush your hip against his a little longer, your gaze dipped to his neck as you followed his lead.

The height in the waltz built, and you subtly released his shoulder and pressed your chest against his closer. He still didn't flinch. He guided you.

You whispered, "If this is how you hold me now, I'm excited to see how you hold me later."

His step faltered, just a touch. He swallowed.

You slowed, accordingly to the melody, coaxing him into a sultry foxtrot. Each step was sumptuous, like the finest velvet - smooth, intentional, undeniably close. The ruffles whispered around with every turn, every slide a promise made in silk and motion.

You let your fingers trace ever so slightly over his shoulder as you moved.

"You're not trying to seduce me, are you? You questioned, voice dripping like warm honey. A pause. "Because it's working."

His breath hitched. Barely, but you felt it.

Your smile grew more wicked, more hazy.

"Careful, Jamil. If you keep dancing like that, I might forget we're just practicing."

He didn't answer with words. His hand tightened at your waist. His steps grew sharper, more deliberate - every shift of his body brushing closer, every movement carrying a kind of heat that left no room for misreading.

You realized with a slow, thrilling surrender - you weren't the one leading this dance anymore.

Before you knew it, a vibrant salsa tune reverberated throughout the room as you spun sideways, allowing yourself to be pulled into a livelier pattern. You clicked your heels, you flicked your head - classic salsa, but with an effortless allure.

His muscles flexed beneath his shirt. His leading was strong, firm, unflinching. Your bodies pushed and pulled, buzzing with magnetic energy. You uttered softly, "That's it, I knew you had it in you~"

His jaw angled. Sweat glistened on his temple. The fire of the salsa matched the fire in your eyes.

He dipped you low.

Your dress flared.

And your glossed lips parted.

The music changed on your breath - a tense, dramatic tango. You slid your hand along his chest, drawing your pulse to his sternum.

He let go of the salsa rhythm, leaning in for a true tango embrace. Chest to chest, cheek to cheek. Your hand went to the back of his neck, hair slipping through his fingers. His arm slid around your waist with surprising gentleness - tentative, but real.

He led. You pivoted. You pressed your hip against his. His eyes glittered in the mirror. Your hair flew wildly with the tempo. He guided your close, closer - hips aligned, shoulders aligned, heartbeats aligned.

As the music reached a crescendo, he dipped you - gravity and control in perfect synergy. You leaned back in the dip, your dress sliding temptingly, your pulse racing. Who would have known that Jamil Viper was this good of a dancer?

Suddenly, he lost balance.

Mid-dip, he staggered. But as quick as a pit viper, Jamil caught your head as you felt yourselves crash to the ground all too slow, his strong arms creating a barrier between you and the floor. His chest heaved, and his gaze was charged.

You blinked, hair falling forward. He brushed it aside, still holding that dance hold - intimate, warm, safe.

He nodded once, sharply. "I...you okay?"

You smiled back, breathy. "More than okay."

Jamil let go of you, setting himself up vertical, and offering a hand to help you up.

You rose up to your knees as you gently pulled him back to sit.

"I saw you wince when you got up," You said, voice laced with concern, but carrying a teasing edge. Jamil did not miss this. "Did you pull your side?"

He shot you a sharp look. "How'd you know?"

You flashed a knowing smile, leaning closer as your fingers brushed his arm lightly. "Kind of hard to miss. And you're not exactly the best at hiding things."

His eyes narrowed, but softened as you moved in closer, your gaze intent, lingering on his form. "Maybe you should stretch a little," You suggested. "I could help. You know, with that side of yours."

Your lips curled into a knowing smile, the offer looming in the air - a challenge.

You shuffled closer to him and placed your palm against his ribs. "Let me help you loosen up." Your tone was soft now - gentler with the teasing.

He stiffened and relaxed only when your touch remained focused, controlled.

"Everything alright?"

"Are you okay?"

You both asked at the same time.

A laugh, soft and breathy, slipped past your lips. "I've never been better. Though I wouldn't say no to a repeat performance - maybe with less falling, though."

He groaned and tried to move, but you reached up gently and brushed your fingers along his cheek. Your thumb ghosted just under his eye, and his breath caught.

You smiled at him, a soft, private smile that didn't match the typical wicked one you wore like armor.

"I think I broke you," You said playfully, though your voice had quieted.

Jamil didn't reply right away, just looked at you with those impossibly sharp eyes of his, reading more than you meant to show. His gaze swept from your flushed cheeks to your still-parted lips, and you could practically feel the turbulent energy strumming beneath his skin.

"You're pushing too far," He said quietly, voice taut.

You held his gaze, steady.

"Maybe. But you haven't stopped me yet."

The moment stretched between you, heavy with unspoken things. Your fingertips still lingered against his face, and when you didn't pull away, neither did he.

"I like you, Jamil."

It came out quieter than you'd expected.

Even with your usual confidence, even with all your practiced lines and sultry jokes, this part - this truth - was vulnerable. Your stomach twisted as the words hung in the air.

Jamil narrowed his eyes, stunned for a breath.

You kept your fingers on his cheek, grounding yourself.

"I mean it," You said, your voice lower now, calmer, but clearer than ever. "I tease you, sure. I get under your skin. But with you...it's not just a game. It's different."

Light from the chandelier kissed the contours of his face, shadows settling in the hollows like secrets. His brows drew together, silent in focus.

"You drive me up the wall," You admitted with a nervous little laugh. "You're smug and unbothered and infuriatingly self-controlled. And still...you're all I think about lately. Every comeback, every glance...it's like a dance I don't want to end."

Jamil was still quiet.

You could feel your pulse in your throat now. Too exposed.

Your voice dipped again, hushed and a little shaky. "You don't have to say anything. I just...I wanted you to know. I know I'm a lot to deal with. But when it comes to you, I really am serious. Scary serious."

Still silence.

Then - very slowly - Jamil's fingers rose to your wrist. He didn't push your hand away. Instead, he curled his hand around it, warm and steady, as if anchoring himself there.

"I know you mean it," He said at last, voice somber and timbre. "I've always known."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Then why pull away?" You whispered.

He leaned in closer, the space between you narrowing until your breaths were shared. His body hovered over yours, but it wasn't dominance - it was hesitance. Like he was waiting for permission he didn't think he deserved.

"Because I didn't understand it," He murmured. "I still don't." His gaze searched yours, guarded but unraveling.

"I don't see why it's me. Why you'd look at me like that. There were moments I convinced myself it wasn't real - that you were just...being you. That I was passing fancy."

He exhaled, a shaky sound.

"But then you kept showing up. And you kept meaning it. And I couldn't stop wanting to believe you."

Your expression softened. "And what do you think now?"

"I think..." He hesitated. His voice dipped low, like river water flowing over stone. "You're absurd. And I haven't stopped thinking about you since the first time you blew me off with that ridiculous wink."

A slow smile curved the set of your mouth. "You liked the wink?"

"I hated it," He said, not sounding like he meant it at all. "But I couldn't forget it."

You sat up a little, your face now barely inches from his. "And now?"

"Now, I'm in trouble."

Your peals of laughter were tender and pleased, but something in you was still fragile. Still aching for more than banter. "Do you like me, Jamil?"

He exhaled, letting his forehead rest gently against yours. His hair brushed your cheek, silky and warm.

"I like you," He confessed, barely above a whisper. "More than I want to. More than I know how to deal with. You've turned my whole world upside down."

You swallowed thickly, "Good."

Then you tilted your face, so your lips hovered near his ear, your breath pleasant against his skin.

"Can I kiss you?" You whispered, soft but steady.

Jamil's fingers tightened just slightly around your wrist. His eyes found yours - intense, unreadable for a heartbeat.

Then they dropped to your lips.

"Yes."

You leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't a playful peck or a teasing brush.

It was the kind of kiss that melted time.

His mouth met yours with careful reverence at first, like he wasn't sure this was real. Then, as your hand tangled in the loose hair at the nape of his neck, he deepened it, pulling you closer, tilting your chin, kissing you like he'd been holding back for far too long.

Though, you supposed that was exactly the case.

You tasted like mischief and jasmine and stolen moments.

He tasted like order, oud, and tender hours.

When you broke apart, both of you breathless, you touched his chest lightly with your palm, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat.

"We're a mess," You chortled, smiling.

Jamil smirked. "You more than me."

"Rude," You teased.

"And yet," He murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek, "I still want more."

You leaned in again, your lips just grazing his. "Then you'd better keep up, Viper."

He kissed you again.

And this time, you didn't stop for a long, long while.

Author's Note: So I was supposed to post the Trey x VERY suggestive reader fic version of this before I posted Jamil's, but here we are! The process for creating these fics was NOT easy at all. To add on to Jamil's part, I originally did not plan for the dancing part of the fic to be as long as it was. I just figured that since Jamil is canonically really good at dancing, I could write about it. He obviously loves to break-dance, but he canonically is also really good at ballroom styles, and since this would technically be my first ever Jamil fic, I wanted to do him justice. :>

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #dancing #potions #suggestive #slightly spicy #reader #you #vera deville

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