‧✧̣̇‧ Gym Bunny Masterlist

STILL IN LOVE MASTERLIST — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS…after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO…ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER…likes and reblogs are appreciated

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

+more to come soon!

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A Burning Hill, Chapter 2

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CHAPTER 1

characters: levi ackerman x fem!reader

warnings: spoilers for season 1-2 of attack on titan, a looot of angst, swearing, slow burn, soft levi, fighting, major character deaths

a/n: okay so i was supposed to have this up during the weekend but my mental health has been so bad that i couldn't get it done on time. nevertheless i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and thank your for the feedback on chapter 1, i appreciate you guys so much and hope you enjoy this part just as much♡

845 AD

it would only keep getting worse. even when the government felt that citizens of paradis were safe from the titans with the protection of the walls, everything fell apart in a single fateful evening.

an abnormal, beyond the south gate of shiganshina district. it was different this time. the titan looming over the wall had a unique and threatening appearance. it was colossal, its height helping it reach over the wall and gaze upon the terrified eyes of wall maria residents.

and then chaos erupted.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"why am i always stuck on training duties?"

"as you know, instructor martens passed away on our latest expendition. you will train the newcomers just for this week and then you'll return to your duties of being co-captain to the levi-y/l/n squad" goddamn it erwin. goddamn it. it wasn't that she hated the idea of training the newbies, she had done it before. it was that she would be missing the expendition taking place in shiganshina, that she helped plan

"what about this week's expendition? i am the one who planned it"

"levi, hange and i have you covered. he agreed to lead your team by himself, much to his dismay. however i can't imagine anyone better than to train our new soldiers, i promise its an one time thing" erwin suggested and she huffed, falling back in her seat. if it was just for one week then so be it. to be put quite simply, she couldn't say no to erwin and being informed that her absence would be covered was an okay reason for her to worry less about. besides the scouts have been lacking manpower lately and she would feel at ease if she knew that she could contribute on shaping erwin's vision. just what was his vision again?

"you're not too bad at training" an all too familiar voice reverberated through erwin's office. y/n didn't even have to turn her head back to confirm levi's precense as a soft laugh escaped her lips.

"yeah obviously. the training grounds are on the south, that means i'll probably have to leave in a bit so i can arrive early. where is hange? at least we can all have dinner together before i go, right?"

"let's head to the dining area, hange is probably waiting for us with moblit and miche" erwin nodded as he got up and walked past levi and y/n, leaving them behind his trail.

"you'll come back to me in one piece"

"is that an order?"

"yes"

"we're equals now, i don't take orders from you brat" he teased "i had no other plans anyways, who are you going to make tea to when im gone?"

"probably hange and erwin"

"that tea is only for me, i'm gonna haunt your ass" and if it wasn't more obvious that these two had a more profound bond then erwin didn't know. sometimes he swore he could cut the tension with the knife and for the first time he lost a bet to hange. at first he didn't believe that levi and y/n would be getting this close even when the two would be caught staring at each other from across the room.

it was a mutual understanding to everyone that levi and y/n were more than just co-captains.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"eren, you really want to be a scout member, don't you?" y/n spoke softly, crouching down next to the green eyed brunette. she could tell the boy was disappointed that he couldn't use his odm gear correctly, as every time he tried to stabilize himself he'd just turn, feet looking up in the air and head hitting the ground with a thud every time.

"i want to destroy every single titan, captain. i want to kill them all" yeah you're not the only one, she thought. just then it hit her that many of those kids in front of her were present to that fateful day. most of them had lost their family and friends during the incident and she could tell from the determination in their eyes that they would go far.

"i trust you eren" she got up and walked over a beautiful girl with jet black hair that reminded her of levi's and a red scarf, leaving eren still dangling upside down "dear, can you lend your odm mechanism to eren? i suppose there's something wrong with his" and she was right. as soon as the boy put on his friend's equipment and tried swinging, he was floating like any normal person would. just as she thought.

y/n walked back to the small stage, smiling softly as he heard the excitement reeking from the young group of friends. at the end of the day they were just kids being kids. training was hard but they've had enough of their childhood pried away from them. little moments like these never hurt. she wished that one day kids wouldn't have to be forced away from their families and trained only to die by the jaws of titans. maybe one day they would be free from this curse. and maybe then, she could open that tea shop she always wanted. maybe levi would stick around and help her too.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"maybe you should think twice about kicking the shit out of my students" her tone on a fine line between bored to death and teasing. that trial was awfully draining and boring. since when did everyone think they could share their opinion on something they have zero knowledge on? still noone knew how to handle a titan shifter but the military police thinking they had a say in this was just a poorly written joke "besides i haven't given my testament yet"

"go ahead"

"we can use the kid to our benefit. killing him would only cause more harm and i believe it would be a serious mistake to do so. honestly he could just turn into a titan right now and kill us all for all i care. i don't see how this would benefit either parties. anyways, i said what i had to say. there are people in here with absolutely zero knowledge over titans, why are we letting them do the talking? correct me if im wrong" her cold gaze met levi's across the room as she support her weight with her elbows on the stool "go on, im curious to see how this ends"

captain y/l/n never failed to stun everyone wherever she stepped foot in. both from her beauty and boldness. in this situation, the latter was enough to turn heads her way. levi absolutely hated that. first and foremost because she deserved much better than the lewd stares of strangers upon her ethereal beauty and last but not least due to her well...controversial choice of words and audacity. even if he admired her bravery, he knew sooner or later she would get in trouble.

after the judge concluded the trial and the decision that eren would be now apart of their team, the entire squad were lead into a conference room to discuss important matters, like controlling eren's titan abilities and a formation plan for their next move to regain the shiganshina district.

"please just tell me noone else here is a titan, save me from the embarrassment"

"uh... i hope i am the only one captain y/l/n" eren said as hange offered him a cloth to clean his face from the open wounds levi's boots had caused.

"well eren jeager can we trust you to save humanity?"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"do you think this is going to end well?" levi turned around to meet her eyes but she was staring far off into the night sky "i know eren has shown us that we can trust him, but it's different. we've never seen anything like this before. i feel like something bad is going to happen soon and i don't know, i'm scared" huffing she took another sip of her tea that had now gone cold "this is only the beggining. the titans that infiltrated wall maria are still out there and we don't know if we'll be able to take them. maybe there's no coming out of this one"

"stop saying stupid shit like this" he snapped, making her side eye him "i mean, i feel like this too, don't be so pessimistic about it"

"i cant believe this sentence just came out of you? am i talking to the same levi?"

"shut up. i trust you enough not to die, so don't. tomorrow after we catch the female titan you'll come back to me. i don't even want the smallest of bruise on you" levi was so vulnerable during moments like these and she treasured the fact that she was the only person in this world to see him at this state.

"if you want me alive that much then i have no choice, do i?"

"i want you"

huh?

"i want you alive" there was a slight tint of red contrasting the paleness of his skin and yet she missed it due to the darkness that surrounded them.

oh.

"then I'll come back to you and you'll come back to me"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

the forest had never looked as scary and gloomy as it did when the threat of the female titan had subsided and all that was left was to wander around looking for any surviving members of the scouts participating in the mission.

petra, oluo, ganther. everyone had died during the mission and yet she was still there, leaving the survivor's guilt and shame to wash over her. levi was right. no matter how much trust you can put into another person other than yourself, they can be gone in any minute.

"shit" she hissed slowly sitting down on the tree next to petra, who was like a found younger sister to her. her face was stoic, only a few beads of sweat atop of her hairline.

and then she let out the loudest and unsettling scream of frustration she could.

levi was the first to find her, sobbing next to petra's lifeless body. he had never seen her at this state before. even when she tried jumping off the roof she had been so calm and collected, yet now he was seeing a whole another side of her that he wished he never would again. he'd actually rather have his legs eaten by a titan, that would hurt way less. he approached her slowly, making sure he was giving her enough space to back away if she felt uncomfortable.

and then his lips met her hairline as her hands desperately grasped the clothing on his back, trying to keep herself grounded. his hands were instantly being wrapped around her waist, gripping her tightly so she could not slip and kept his lips on her scalp. no words were needed to be spoken and as he felt her loosen up he laid one final kiss on her forehead and cupped her cheeks softly making her look into his eyes.

"i failed"

"it's not your fault, calm down, i've got you, noone can hurt you"

"they're all dead" he nodded, still caressing her soft skin "it should have been me" something about her talking like that ticked him off, it scared him how she would never think about how valuable her life was then in just a second, his whole demeanor against her changed and he pushed her away, not hard enough to hurt her, yet hard enough to make her lose her footing.

"i told you to cut the shit" his tone had also changed to his ice cold , the one he would use when speaking to everyone that wasnt her "what the fuck was that for? you think that you dying would be any better? i would rather everyone in this fucking world die right now if it meant that you'd still be here and i don't care what you have to say" levi was selfish. he was so selfish when it came to her "stop acting like a pathetic bitch"

"our whole squad just fucking died, and you keep talking about me being alive and im the pathetic one here? just shut up" they were both angry and neither could recall any other time in which they have spoken such harsh words to each other "you should've let me jump off that fucking roo-" he was pushing her again, this time against the tree with his hands around her neck "what the fuck are you doing?"

"shut the fuck up" using her whatever strength she had left she kicked him away taking, a moment to catch her breath and before she knew she was pinned back against the tree "im not a monster, i cared about them just as much as you did" he spat "i dont care about them as much as i care about you and i fucking hate it so if you plan on putting others above your own life then dont bother fucking talking to me again"

"um- excuse me, captain levi? captain y/l/n?" what now? "we-they told us to come pick up the bodies" the terrified soldier saluted at the captains that were literally about to rip each other to shreds just seconds ago. levi took a step back and turned around to head back to where the rest of the survivors had gathered.

"go ahead" her glare shot knives into his back "you coming, y/l/n?" he asked stopping to look back at her. just what had gotten into him? why was he so harsh all of a sudden? she nodded and picked up her pace to reach him.

and as they walked between the high trees, neither realized how or when their fingers ended up linked to each other's once again..

part 3 coming soon...

𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ.𝟝

| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, foul language ( 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 ), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬).

| 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐂𝐡.𝟏| 𝐂𝐡.𝟐 | 𝐂𝐡.𝟑 | 𝐂𝐡. 𝟒 |

-

The cigarette you held in your hand burned slowly as you watched the smoke swirl in the air. The memory of Jungkook's intrusion replayed over and over in your mind. You found yourself creating scenarios on how you should have reacted. You envisioned yourself slapping him across the face and spitting at his feet in complete disgust, shouting at him and banging on his chest, getting ahold of anything within reach and throwing it in rage, causing as much damage as you possibly could. something, anything but reality. The reality that you found solace in that small contact and that thought repulsed you. If you couldn't keep yourself together from just a touch on the cheek, how did you plan to achieve anything to bring that family down? 

Where did that reaction even come from? For an entire year, you had repelled the thought of being close to that man. Finding ways to avoid him entirely. Jungkook and his family had turned your life upside down and never for a moment did you ever consider that within your hatred lived a deep desire to be wanted. Sure, you had tried in the beginning to form some kind of connection, but he had never caused this kind of turmoil within you before.

You took another drag from the cigarette and inhaled slowly, shutting your eyes and wincing to yourself. You had to gather the bit of shame you had left and continue, there was no time for self-loathing or pity. Fine you had a moment of weakness, you are human after all and sometimes you are allowed to break but what you had done, what you had demonstrated to Jungkook was that he could play with you whenever he pleased and that, that you couldn't allow. As difficult as it proved to be, you needed to be as empty as him. It was the only way this plan would work. 

“Mrs. Y/n” Ha-yoon called for you. You hummed in response as you leaned your head against the lounge chair in which you sat; a blanket comfortably laid on your lamp. “Your assistant has arrived, along with your stylist to prepare you for this evening” she spoke urgently. You closed your eyes for a moment and smirked. You had been more than reluctant to attend the rather infernal event but after some thought, you couldn't see why you couldn't turn this into something beneficial. 

As you had assumed, if the Jeon family was planning this whole dinner, then they, of course, would not miss the opportunity of inviting all the important members of their inner circle. After all their reputation was everything, and what better than to show off the close-knit harmonious family they had created. Attending this event would allow you to meet every single person who had aided the Jeon family in building the criminal empire they now had. 

They would have your full attention, you were looking forward to networking with every one of them, gaining their good graces and trust. This was a key step in your plan, you were sure that within that empire existed at least someone who hated them as much as you and if they didn't hate them, then at least they envied them. One thing you were sure of and it’s that tonight you had something to gain and what thrill did it bring. without noticing, the Jeon family had just aided you in their downfall. 

“Bring them in Ha-yoon, I need to look spectacular tonight” you smiled. 

Ha-yoon furrowed her brows for a moment, confusion overtaking her expression. “Are you sure you’re okay Mrs. Y/n?” she asked. She had heard the entire altercation in the morning even if it was against her will, the screams between you and Jungkook had poured out of the dining room and into the vast spaces in the home. Ha-yoon had wanted to interrupt and bring some kind of peace amidst the war that had taken place, but she was hesitant. unsure of how her intrusion would sit with Jungkook. Afterward, she had heard the rushed steps of Jungkook and the loud slamming of the door as he stormed out of the house and then your agonizing screams as you threw every single plate of food across the room. 

The woman who now sat calmly with a radiant smile was a stranger to the woman who had destroyed the dining room in a rage only a few hours ago.  

You blinked, your smile faltering for just a moment. “Of course, Ha-yoon why wouldn't I be?” you questioned, leaning your head to the side. Ha-yoon fiddled with her apron and then shook her head. “Nothing Mrs. Y/n, I will allow them inside” She bowed quickly and rushed out of the room. You took a deep breath dropping your smile and proceeded to put out your cigarette. Of course, you weren’t okay but falling back into your routine, you pretended like nothing had happened.

Soon your room was occupied by Myung and your stylist. They carried large shopping bags and hangers with flashy dresses. You stood up from where you sat on your balcony and entered the room. “Y/n, my love!” your stylist cheered as you walked inside. He threw his arms around you and hugged you tightly. You giggled into his embrace “Hey Si-woo” you breathed.

“I have so many beautiful options for you, I want you to look like the baddest bitch on the planet” he beamed which caused you to smile. “I don’t doubt it for a second, Si-woo” you replied. Si-woo had been your event stylist for years now, even before your marriage, and was one of the only personnel you had been allowed to keep after the union. You entrusted him with everything regarding your style, Si-woo being the only one who understood what you liked and felt comfortable in.

“He went crazy at the store, Ma’am” Myung confirmed as she prepared the table for your makeup. “Me? Go crazy at the store how unusual” Si-woo retorted with sarcasm. You laughed loudly and Myung smiled shyly like she always did. “Here, come look at these dresses” he said whilst ushering you to sit on your bed, he quickly began rummaging through the rack he had brought in, pushing past some of the gowns that hung there.

“This one is my favorite” he cried out as he held out a sequin golden dress, his eyes glowed as he unzipped it from its bag. “Oscar De La Renta of course” he marveled.

 “It has a hand-embroidered sequin wave pattern with scallop details and a construction to accentuate your gorgeous waist” he waved as he danced around the room with the gown.

 For the first time since the day had begun, you felt at ease, Si-woo always managed to make you forget all your worries with his styling and charisma. “It’s strapless to show off those sexy shoulders you have, and a dramatic front slit to give it a cheeky touch” he concluded, holding up the gown to your eyes.

“What do we think?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. You nodded quickly “I love it, it's truly incredible” you approved which made him jump in excitement. “I knew it, as soon as I saw it on display, I knew you would love it!” he exclaimed.

“I uhm I was under the impression you would be matching with Mr. Jeon, Ma’am” Myung spoke quietly from where she stood. Si-woo scoffed and rolled his eyes “Myung, please keep your dreadful comments to yourself, if anything it should be Jungkook who would need to be matching with our queen and savior Y/n” he snapped back, glaring at Myung.

You wanted to burst into laughter but withheld from such a reaction, partly because it was rude and then because Myung did have a point. If you were to attend this dinner and gain the trust of the Jeon’s inner circle you needed to give the elution of a partnership with your husband and as strange as it sounded, you were aware that matching with your significant other was an indication of that. You sighed and gave Si-woo a shy stare. He shook his head and hung the dress back onto the rack.

“don’t do this to me Y/n, I have the perfect heels and accessories for this dress” he whined. He looked back at Myung with distaste and exasperated dramatically. “Well, what is this man wearing then” he asked, his hand still gripping the dress. “He will be wearing a black suit along with a dark green undershirt and a black tie” Myung spoke, her voice carrying excitement.

Si-woo looked around in desperation “Oh my god, borrinnnnnggg” he almost yelled, causing a giggle to fall from your lips. “I will not have Y/n looking bland, she is everything but, okay?” he voiced as he pointed at where you sat. “Listen how about you get those little fingers moving and advise his stylist to just put some golden accessories on that suit for god's sake and call it a day” he concluded. Myung appeared nervous but nodded.

The smile that Si-woo produced afterwards could’ve blinded the sun itself as he reached for your arm. “let's go! We have but a few hours and although you are gorgeous, we need these people to drool over you!” you allowed him to guide you into the makeup chair proceeding to work on your hair and make-up.

After some time, there was a knock on the door and Ha-yoon stepped inside holding a tray of snacks and tea. “Hello Ma’am, I couldn’t help but notice you hadn’t eaten today, I wanted to bring you some refreshments” she informed you as she laid the tray next to you. you gave her a bright smile and reached forth for a small sandwich “Thank you so much Ha-yoon you are a lifesaver” you spoke, taking a bite “Between this and the medicine Nali brought into my room this morning, what would I do without you girls” you rejoiced.

“Oh,” Ha-yoon spoke, a small smile forming on her lips. “No need Ma’am, actually the medicine was Mr. Jeon's idea, he made sure you were taken care of this morning” she disclosed, your jaw halted as you swallowed the rest of the sandwich harshly down your throat. “Come again?” you asked, blinking quickly. “Yes Ma’am, he made sure to come into the kitchen and instructed us to ensure you received medicine for your headache” Ha-yoon confirmed.

You sat still as Si-woo curled another strand from your hair. You remained taken aback by the words Ha-yoon had said. What did he gain from doing that? You were sure he didn't care for you at all, so what was the real reason behind this sudden act of concern towards you?

“Seems to me like the man has finally grown a heart” Si-woo voiced, looking at you through the mirror. You shook your head and looked back at Ha-yoon, you had no time to think about these things or the reasoning behind them. Maybe it was true he had grown a heart or maybe he just wanted to ensure you were coherent enough to put up with the atrocious conversation you had shared. You chose the ladder.

An idea settled into your head as you watched Ha-yoon shift uncomfortably in place.

“Hey Ha-yoon, how well do you know the associates at the Jeon company?” you asked, Ha-yoon looked up quickly “I uhm only met them a handful of times when they visited Mr. Jeon's father at his residence, I really don’t know much Ma’am” she expressed, shrugging slightly. You hummed “Surely you would be able to tell me their names if you saw them, right?” you implied. She nodded innocently “Of course Ma’am, it was our duty to learn the names of those who visited the Jeon residence in order for us to provide a much more comfortable visit” she confirmed. You smirked wickedly and looked back at yourself in the mirror.

You were sure Ha-yoon knew much more than she was letting on, she had access to endless conversations and undisclosed information. Her profession allowed her to hear many things whilst serving the men their tea or coffee and that’s exactly what you needed this evening. You needed to know how to work them. what their interests were and how they handled themselves. “Si-woo” you called for your stylist whose head popped up from behind you as he clipped some of your hair back. “Yes?” he spoke softly with a smile.

“We have a dress Ha-yoon could wear tonight, don’t we?” you asked, raising your brow slightly. He glanced at Ha-yoon for a moment almost as if he was taking measurements with his eyes. “Her bust is a bit smaller than yours, but we could make it work” he answered, looking over at the rack of dresses. “perfect” you grinned as you looked at Ha-yoon once more. She looked frightened almost as if you had threatened her life.

“I-I’m sorry, w-what?” she stammered, her hands holding onto her apron tightly. “No worries my Ha-yoon tonight you will be my confidant” you assured her “You see I just need a little guidance.”

Her terrified eyes looked into yours without blinking, like a deer caught in between headlights.

“Don’t you worry darling, I will have you looking radiant!” Si-woo promised, finishing the last touches on your hair. You nodded persuasively towards Ha-yoon. “radiant” you mouthed as her cheeks grew flushed.

Just as promised, Si-woo had completed his craft impeccably not only making you appear absolutely stunning but completely changing Ha-Yoon’s look. You barely recognized her in the long black gown and foxy make-up. You watched Ha-Yoon as she looked over her dress timidly, rubbing her arms slightly. You could tell she was not used to this level of glamour.

After some time, you noticed a smile forming on her lips as she brushed her hands through her short hair. You stepped towards her and mirrored her smile.

You tapped on her shoulder softly and she turned around to look at you, her lips pressing together. “You look beautiful” you almost whispered. “Thank You, Ma’am” she bowed, her face growing red. “I’ve never worn anything so nice” she confided which caused your smile to widen.

“I want you to have fun tonight” you confessed. “of course, I'll need your assistance from time to time but I truly just want you to enjoy yourself,” you wrapped your arms around her frame whilst turning her towards the mirror once again as you both shared smiles in the reflection.

“Ma’am, the car is here” Myung spoke, you dropped your arms from where they held Ha-yoon and gave her a reassuring nod before reaching for your clutch and walking out of the room. Ha-Yoon would be the perfect help tonight. She was someone who wouldn’t question your motives and would provide the exact information you needed. She would play a major role in your success and freedom, and she didn’t even know it.

 The driver held the door open as you strutted into the car, Ha-yoon following suit behind you.

“Ma’am I will be making a stop just a block away from the event, your husband will be waiting for you in another car” the driver spoke, beginning to drive away from your residence. You rolled your eyes and peered through the tinted windows disinterested in the theatrics. The show had commenced, even if you hadn’t seen Jungkook since this morning you had to give the illusion that you had arrived together like the happy couple you appeared to be.

“Ma’am, are you sure this is okay?” Ha-yoon whispered beside you, you looked over at her and nodded with a smile “Don’t worry Ha-yoon this event is for me, I can bring whomever I want” you reassured her. You reached for her hand and squeezed it softly. “don’t be nervous, okay?” she nodded quickly but you could still tell she was overthinking the entire thing much like you tended to do. For some reason, you were at ease. Having a plan in mind for tonight kept you focused, not allowing doubt to seep in as it usually did during these kinds of things.

The ride to the event was quiet, your eyes remained fixed on the cars passing by and the city lights, you weren’t going to allow anyone to ruin this for you. This was an important night for you even if it was for completely different reasons. Whilst everyone celebrated your anniversary you were confident you would soon find an acquaintance, whoever it turned out to be.

The car stopped a corner away from the hall just as instructed. The driver stepped out and quickly went to your door, holding it open for you. you gave Ha-yoon one last reassuring smile before getting out. Waiting for you were 2 bodyguards. They led you to a car which you assumed was Jungkook’s. His driver stood there patiently and opened the door for you as you neared the all-black SUV, you took one last glance at the car in which Ha-yoon sat before stepping inside.  

Jungkook sat silently, looking out of his window. You adjusted yourself in the seat and cleared your throat to make your presence known, not that he would acknowledge it. Just as Myung had described, he wore an all-black suit with a green shirt and a black tie with the difference of a golden silk handkerchief in his front pocket and a golden pin with his family crest on it.

You noticed his new haircut, and how different he appeared with short hair. The last time he had worn it this way was for your wedding, you recalled how handsome he had looked that day as your father walked you down the aisle. The same warm feeling you had felt this morning surged through you and you felt your heart skip a beat. You looked away quickly, unwilling to entertain whatever this was forming in your chest but you couldn’t ignore the exhilaration the smell of his cologne caused you.

You held onto your clutch tightly and soon that feeling of ease you carried began to disappear. You attempted to grasp onto it for as much time as you could but the calmness which you had been so proud of just minutes before quickly left your body the moment you sat next to your husband.

Once again you felt like you were walking on eggshells. You tried to keep as much distance between you, trying to focus on anything else but the man sitting beside you. You could feel his eyes on you now as they scanned the dress you wore. It was as if he was undressing you, his stare ripping into whatever skin was exposed. You could sense he was about to say something but just as his lips parted, the car pulled into the entrance of where the dinner would be held.

Upon your arrival, you were quickly blinded by the flashing of camera lights. Your eyes widened in shock at the realization of what awaited you outside the car. “What?” you whispered, looking out of the window at the paparazzi that stood there, cameras in hand. You were unaware the media would be here, assuming this would be a private event, but you were mistaken. Your grip on your clutch grew tighter as you attempted to gather your thoughts.

You hated them.

at the beginning of your marriage, they had made it their top priority to write vile tabloids about you, all pointing out how you weren’t enough for a man like Jungkook. Reading those articles caused you to swallow the little confidence you had back then, the words they had published ensured you questioned your self-worth. They dissected each one of your insecurities and then displayed them in sections of magazines for everyone to see. You grew sick at the sound of their clicking cameras as they called out your name. At that moment, all you wanted was for the car to drive away.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open, the cold air smacking you in the face. Jungkook stood there, his hand held out for you. You hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t sitting beside you anymore.

 It became hard to breathe, hearing them much clearer now.

‘Y/n come out; we want to see you.’

‘Jungkook, how is married life?’

You looked up at Jungkook, your eyes wide open and you were hesitant to hold his hand. The very hand that had graced your cheek only a few hours ago, the same hand that had wiped away tears that he had caused. He recognized your panicked stare, the way you couldn’t focus as the lights blurred your vision. He reached for you and softly pulled you out of the car.

You couldn’t make out the voices around you as your ears ringed, the dress that you swore fit comfortably just a moment before, was now too tight. You felt the material grip your waist harshly while pressing down on your ribs and you swore given the chance, you would’ve ripped it off at that very moment.  

Jungkook led you onto the carpet and his arm wrapped around you as he smiled for the cameras. Yet, you couldn’t register his touch or the proximity he had as your chest pressed into his. You were too focused on surviving.

You couldn’t breathe.

 you felt like the air had been sucked straight out of the atmosphere. Your hands grew clammy as the cameras continued to flash and your eyes couldn’t focus. You had never had a panic attack like this before. They usually came in waves and had never been as intense as this. For the most part, you were always alone, in a far quieter space. You had become great at calming yourself down but the voices around you were too loud as they consumed you, not allowing you to hear yourself.

“Y/n, smile for the camera!”

“Look here!”

“You look stunning Y/n!”

“Who dressed you tonight?”

“You look thinner Y/n!”

“Answer some questions for us!”

You felt the world caving in on you, sure that at any moment you would drop dead.

 your hand gripped tightly onto the arm Jungkook had wrapped around your waist, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm. His eyes scanned your face, your skin had grown pale and you struggled to catch your breath. Your eyes soon swelled with tears as you looked around like a lost child.

You closed them for a moment, trying to ground yourself. You felt humiliated, you were becoming undone in front of the very people who had destroyed you with their words and you couldn’t take your control back. Couldn’t be the strong woman you so desperately yearned to be.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispered into your ear as he pressed his forehead against the side of your face. “hey” he called once again. You opened your eyes and looked at him. his eyes locking with yours. They focused only on you. In them, you noticed warmth and calmness. “Hey, look at me” he instructed you, his voice being the only one you could make out amidst the noise around you.

You stayed there, secured in his eyes. He offered you a small smile “Focus on me, you hear me?” he encouraged, and you felt your grip on his forearm loosen as you slowly caught your breath. The feeling of oxygen entering your lungs eased the burning that your panic attack had caused in them.

“Focus only on me” he continued, ensuring you were now breathing with ease. He watched your chest rise and fall and then held onto your hand. “I didn’t know they would invite the media” he confessed, his eyes stayed with yours and you knew he was telling the truth. You nodded slowly whilst he nodded with you, confirming you knew he was just as surprised as you.

“Come on, let's go” he ordered, gripping your hand tightly in his and leading you away from the cameras and finally into the hall.

You grew disoriented whilst attempting to get your breathing rhythm back. As you stepped inside, several attendees began to approach you and Jungkook. He greeted them politely, his grip on your hand never lessening. they tried to conversate with you as well, but you couldn’t make out their words while your heart pounded loudly in your chest.

“Please excuse my wife, she is not very used to the attention” Jungkook spoke and finally you began to register your surroundings. You quickly let go of his hand and lowered your gaze whilst he looked back at where his hand remained, empty without yours in it.

“Let go of me” you muttered.

You were dumbfounded by his actions, the way he talked you through your panic attack, and the way he held onto your hand as if he was protecting you. You didn’t recognize this version of him now. he had never shielded you in this way before.

But then it clicked, this had to be for show. Of course, that could be the only reason.

He had to make sure your little scene didn’t ruin his image or his family name. He was obliged to portray himself as a caring and attentive husband for everyone to see. After all, that is the only thing that ever mattered. You blinked away and looked around the room.

The space had already been filled with men in suits and women in extravagant gowns, there were waiters in black tuxedos holding trays of various aperitives and champagne glasses. Flower arrangements decorated the center of each table that had been laid out with white covers and the chairs that were wrapped in the same color had red bows tied at the back.

This reminded you too much of your wedding day, the entire thing had been a blur but tonight, the memories were coming back. You could tell everything had been meticulously planned, all the way down to the gold cutlery that was laid on each table.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, attempting to find Ha-yoon. You were losing precious time and again, you couldn’t sit around and dwell on whatever Jungkook was trying to do. You hoped that he had received enough material for his role of the caring husband and opted to leave you alone. You had way more important things to tend to tonight. Whatever it was he was trying to obtain by the sudden demonstration of affection, would have to wait.

You spotted Ha-yoon standing alone by the bar, her hands holding onto a glass of water whilst fidgeting with the straw. You almost ran towards her, your heels clashing against the marveled floors. She noticed you before you reached her, her eyes widening and a sigh of relief flowing past her lips.

“Mrs. Y/n” she yelled; you gave her a smile finally standing before her. “Thank you for waiting Ha-yoon, I hope you weren’t alone for too long” you apologized. She put the glass in her hand down and shook her head. “it's fine, Mrs. Y/n I know you are a busy woman” she justified.

“but I'm just still a bit confused on why you needed me here tonight” she proceeded to say, her voice carrying doubt. You smirked and grabbed one of the champagne glasses from a waiter who passed by.

“You will be helping me with a very serious task tonight, Ha-yoon” you responded, taking a sip of the bubbly drink. “I am unfortunately not able to disclose the reason behind my request, but I need you to introduce me to every single person in this room, not physically of course, that I will do on my own, but I do need you to tell me who everyone is” you explained, tilting your head towards her.

She laughed nervously and looked back at the attendees. “Oh Ma’am, here I was worried you were going to give me a task I would struggle with” she spoke confidently. You raised your brows at the sudden change in her demeanor. “Everyone here is a familiar face; they visited the Jeons frequently” she continued.

“Perfect!” You cheered, you reached to interlock your arm with hers and began walking around the room. You could feel the guests glancing at you and whispering to each other. For a moment you felt self-conscious, but you held your head up high as you drank from your glass from time to time. It almost felt surreal how everyone here knew exactly who you were while they remained strangers to you. knowledge was power and soon, you would be holding a bit of your own.

“That man there is Kim Taehyung, he has been friends with Mr. Jungkook since childhood and you could say they are close” Ha-yoon pointed out. You followed her finger and landed on a handsome man. he stood comfortably in the center of the room; appearing relaxed in the conversation he held with a woman. “Close friends?” you asked, your eyes narrowing in on him.

“Yes, Ma’am. His father is the owner of the Monaco Tower” she continued, information flowing past her lips without much persuasion. It was bewildering to you how detached you and Jungkook were, how he was able to have people in his life that you had never heard of. he lived this whole separate life outside of your marriage whilst yours had been shaped all around this union.

“How close?” you asked. You needed to know how willing this man would be to help your cause, was he a friend or a foe? “Very close, they’ve been glued to the hip since they were in diapers” Ha-Yoon adverted, glancing at you. You frowned slightly; he was a friend then.  

“Let's move along” you instructed, proceeding with your research. Along the way Ha-yoon continued to point out various guests, most of them having a long history with the Jeons. You began to grow doubtful that you would find anyone to aid you, from what Ha-yoon had disclosed almost everyone here was loyal to Jungkook and his family and would have a lot more to lose if their criminal enterprise happened to crumble.

You ditched the empty glass of champagne in your hand and grabbed another, taking a few sips hoping that it would soothe the tension you felt. You sighed and halted your steps, your feet aching from walking in circles. “All right, we can take a break Ha-yoon” you breathed. Gulping down the rest of the champagne.

 “You appear disappointed Ma’am” Ha-yoon spoke, her worried eyes taking in your tired appearance. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You were frustrated. How was the Jeon family able to run such a tight ship?  Even the biggest criminal organizations had friends willing to betray them and here was Ha-yoon telling you no one here was willing to even step out of line?

“Sort of, yeah” you breathed, opening your eyes and looking around anxiously. “Were you looking to meet someone in particular?” she asked, she looked around in the same manner as you, her eyes scanning the room carefully. You huffed and shook your head “It doesn’t matter now; I don’t think that anyone here is the someone I'm looking for” you exasperated.

“Well, if you can be a bit more specific then I can maybe try to help you find whomever this person is” Ha-yoon spoke, growing anxious at the thought of letting you down. Your eyes focused on her as you contemplated your next words.

You were more than reluctant to tell her the truth. You wanted to involve the least amount of people that you cared about in this plan. Not only would you be putting them at risk, but you would be involving them in something you couldn’t guarantee the outcome of. Yet, it appeared like you had no other choice, you would just have to share a bit more information. Maybe, if you told her a bit more, she would catch on to what you truly needed.

“I need to find someone who would be willing to betray the Jeon family” You hesitated, your stare growing dark as the words fell from your lips.

Ha-Yoon stood in silence for a moment, mouth agape. Your confession had left her stunned, she looked into your eyes for a moment taking in the utter determination in them, and then her gaze fell onto the floor. She bit down on her lip and gulped. “Ma’am a-are you sure?” she whispered.

The question was innocent, but it carried weight. It was not asking you if you were in the mood to meet someone new or hold a conversation with a stranger. It was one Ha-Yoon asked out of fear, as she had realized the real reason you had brought her here. The real reason behind why you were so eager to attend this dinner in the first place. It had finally registered in her mind that you were about to begin a dangerous game, one you might not have been prepared to play.

Were you sure?

“yes” you affirmed, the words escaping your mouth without delay.

She lifted her stare and nodded slowly. She kept her composure but through her eyes, you could see the worry, the fear, and the utter shock of the discovery she had just made. She turned her head slightly and her eyes looked toward the corner of the room, words weren’t needed as you followed her frightened stare.

In that very corner, stood a man which you hadn’t noticed before. He was alone, only being accompanied by a half-empty glass of what appeared to be whiskey. He had jet-black hair that shadowed his features. From this distance, you could pick out his menacing glare as he scanned the room.  One of his hands remained buried into the pocket of his suit whilst the other held his drink. He was visibly uncomfortable and out of place. His stance of someone ready to fight at any moment.

“If you are looking for someone who would undoubtedly betray the Jeon family, then there's no one better for that role than that man” Ha-yoon informed you. your eyes remained on him, watching his movements. “Who is he?” you asked, studying his appearance.

“His name is Min Yoongi” she spoke, a chill crawling up her spine. “His father and Mr. Jungkook's father used to be best friends and ultimately business partners” she continued, in a hushed tone. “Used to? What happened?” you inquired. Your heart began to beat quickly, the hope you had lost returning into your heart. “Well, the last time I saw his father he was arguing with Mr. Jeon about some deal they had made and apparently there were some money issues” Ha-yoon recalled.

You were practically drooling, you knew it. you knew that there would be someone who the Jeon family had fucked over just like you. The ease with which they destroyed and stepped over your own family came with experience.

“Next thing we heard, his father had passed in a rather questionable car accident” Ha-yoon continued, you snapped your head in her direction. “An accident?” your eyes widened, taken aback by the details. “Yes, one night while his father was driving, a semi-truck slammed into his car, killing him on impact” She nodded. “And well Mr. Min never came to terms with his death, he had busted into the Jeon’s home screaming bloody murder, threatening to kill all of them to avenge the murder of his father, it was really ugly” Ha-yoon winced.  

“Well, how is he here then? I doubt the Jeon family would take those kinds of threats lightly” you commented. You knew this family to be ruthless and threats of any kind were always dealt with. “that’s the thing Mrs. Y/n, they have no other option but to work together” Ha-Yoon shrugged “Mr. Min holds the most amount of shares in the company and almost all the board members are just too scared of him” she concluded.

You couldn’t contain the smile that appeared on your face, you stepped forward without a second thought. You wanted to jump in excitement, to celebrate the gem you had discovered. The man who stood in solitude was the answer to all your prayers, he existed just for you. He was wrapped in a bow like a present sent from heaven above.

Suddenly you felt Ha-yoon grip your arm tightly, stopping you right in your tracks. “Are you crazy, Ma’am” she almost yelled, her eyes widened as she looked at you. “That man is dangerous, do you see anyone else speaking to him?” She spoke quickly, looking around to ensure no one could hear your conversation. You huffed and softly removed her hand from your arm. “I'm a big girl Ha-yoon, I can take care of myself” you announced, turning on your heel and walking towards the corner.

Yoongi remained motionless; his eyes fixed on Jungkook’s father as he spoke to some of the guests. As you stepped closer, a haunting feeling began to take shape within you, losing courage as you neared him. You started to overthink, perhaps this wasn’t the best moment to approach him, but the bait was just too good, you needed to say something, anything. You needed him to recognize that within these walls existed 2 people who wanted to bring the Jeons to their end, you and him.

He only noticed you once you were a few feet away, his brows furrowed as he glared at you. He appeared angry, angry at you. You stopped in front of him and the words you had practiced saying on your way over, had vanished from your mind. You were silent and you concluded by the way he looked at you that you looked completely dense.

From this distance, you noticed a scar that you hadn’t been able to notice from afar. It stretched from above his eyebrow down to his cheek and it only made him look that much more intimidating.

Was it caused by the accident? Was he in the car with his father?

The questions flowed across your head as you kept glancing at it, it looked painful, but it didn’t take away from his attractiveness. He raised his eyebrows as he waited for words to formulate in your mind. You blinked and opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

“oh,” you managed to emit. Your cheeks grew flushed from embarrassment and for a moment you were inclined to walk away without saying anything else. But you had a plan and Yoongi was perfect for it, you couldn’t fuck this up. You had everything you wanted standing right in front of you.  

He was well-connected and feared, but most importantly he hated Jungkook and his family just like you. you could see it in his eyes, the way they burned with detestation when he looked at them, they resembled yours.

You extended your hand and smiled “Hello, I'm Y/n” you said, introducing yourself. He looked down at your hand and then back at you, not moving an inch.

“I know who you are” he answered.

You fidgeted in place, dropping your extended arm and biting softly on your lip.

“Oh, um well I just wanted to come by and say hello” you explained, further embarrassment drifting inside of you. his eyes narrowed on you, his head tilting slightly as if he was trying to decipher you then he scoffed, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“Took you long enough” he noted.

You stared puzzled, unable to make out what he meant by that statement. Did he know your real intentions? He downed the rest of his whiskey and signaled one of the waiters for another. He looked back at you and licked his lips before speaking again.

“You are Jungkook's wife, right?” he asked, he grinned once he noticed how you tensed at the mention of your husband's name. “I noticed you staring at me for a while” he pointed out. You wanted the earth to crack open and swallow you whole. This was humiliating, he must've thought you were a weird housewife gossiping with Ha-Yoon, not that it was far from the truth.

“I apologize, I'm just trying to get to know everyone here” you replied quickly, trying to save yourself from further shame. He nodded in understanding and hummed.

“I see, well I’m Min Yoongi,” he said, now extending his hand out to you. You received it in yours and gave it a small shake. He smirked once again, his eyes studying your body language.

“You still didn’t answer my question” he teased while letting go of your hand. You took a deep breath and produced a small smile before clearing your throat. “Yes, I’m Jungkook’s wife” you responded. He chuckled lowly and watched as the waiter sat his next drink on the table next to him.

“It's hard to say it, isn’t it?” he asked, you blinked slowly trying to find the right answer in your head. “I’m just not used to saying it, that’s all” you confided. He took a gulp from his drink and then stepped closer to you.

“You don’t need to lie, I’m not the police,” he said, provoking chills to run through your body.

“you’ve been here for almost an hour and whilst your husband holds meaningless conversations with these hounds, he hasn’t once glanced in your direction” he continued. “You may be matching which by the way, is rather cute,” he says whilst he smirks. “But you fidget with the wedding ring on your finger which can only mean you aren’t used to wearing it.”

You look down at the ring that sits on your left hand, glistening under the lights. You grow nervous, biting down on your lip, then look back at him.

“And you didn’t approach me because you are lonely and have finally found the courage to cheat on your prick of a husband” he chuckles at his own words and then takes another gulp from his drink. “No, you are here for something else” he notes. You stand there as he strips away at your layers, beckoning the truth from you without even having to hear you speak.

“You admit you’re his wife and the words burn your tongue” he concludes.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you remain silent. He finishes the rest of his drink and stands there, continuing to study your reaction. Perhaps you weren’t ready, all the internal preparation you had done in advance had been worthless. This conversation had gone completely differently in your mind and now that you stood before him, with nothing to say you grew afraid you would lose the opportunity to persuade him to work with you.

From across the room, Jungkook laughed as he spoke to Taehyung.

“Hey, when are you going to introduce me to that wife of yours?” Taehyung asked, smiling at his best friend.

“Oh shit, you’re right!” Jungkook gasped.

“Come on bro, it’s been almost a year and all I've seen are pictures” Taehyung complained as he smacked Jungkook's arm.

His eyes scanned the room but couldn’t make you out amongst the crowd of guests. He continued to search, spotting Ha-yoon standing alone by one of the tables. She looked anxious whilst holding a glass of champagne that remained untouched.

“I’ll go find her,” he said, excusing himself from the conversation and walking towards Ha-yoon.

As he neared her, he noticed her eyes remained anchored in a corner of the room. He followed her stare and was finally able to spot you. he smirked to himself and changed directions to where you stood but the closer, he got, the more he could make out who you spoke with. A boiling-hot Pressure began to form in his chest and his steps picked up their pace. His eyes darkened at the sight before him, and he couldn’t focus on anything else.

He didn’t like that Yoongi was talking to his wife and he didn’t like how close he was standing in front of you but what he couldn’t stand the most was the way you looked at Yoongi. In a way, you had never looked at him.

-

𝐰𝐨𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤/𝐝𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@ane102,@thisartemisnevermisses,@jamlessstars,@cookysstuff,@gyeomibearr,@multiasf ,@lydinews,@vminkookgf,@chl0buggy, @peterstarkchrishiddleston , @koostrawberry , @jcrl99 , @coree730 , @melodiesforari , @taemond-in-the-ruff , @whoa-jo @jksusawife , @hoseoksluv89 , @piecesofapril11 , @coralmusicblaze , @junecat18 , @amiradumas , @mageprincess7 , @heartjiminie , @parkinglot-nights , @douknowbts , @str4gguk

I need a hot sexy man with intense eyes to be obsessed with me I’m not kidding

Just Nanami Kento. I’m not asking for much.

Don’t Blame Me | sugar daddy!jungkook one-shot au

pairing: sd!jungkook x reader genre: one-shot & yandere au

summary: You can have everything you want and need as long as you have Jeon Jungkook by your side. You were enjoying everything that Jungkook gives you and as long as you’re with him. You’re sure to yourself that you will never fail him but he was the one who failed you. Everything is fine until he gets too much. 

content  & warnings: sugar daddy & ceo jk, college reader, toxic & manipulative behavior, unhealthy behavior, possessive & obsessive jk, yandere, bitchy reader, jk sabotaging reader’s career. word count: 12.9K

request prompt

disclaimer: This is pure fiction and I do not condone the acts of Jeon Jungkook in the story. All events and occurrences in here are all fictional and all are part of my imagination.

a/n: to the one who requested this, I hope you’ll like it! 

Keep reading

to my favorite serial killer, clown, cult leader, hairstylist, vampire, playwright, actor, hotel owner, lobster man, circus performer, zombie, frat boy, and mechanic <3

UNHINGED (m)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Summary-> The corporate recession has your company grovelling for funds.

As the relegated chief operating officer, you have to bear the brunt of seeking out an enterprising and successful shareholder who can revive your company for posterity.

As a sorry state of affairs, you're compelled to enlist the CEO of Jeon Enterprise for his help. However, The question remains.

Just how much convincing are you willing to do?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Part: 1 of 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Pairing: Yandere Jeongguk x Female Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Yandere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Warnings for both parts: Power Imbalance, Blackmailing, Manipulation, inebriation, smut, fingering, groping, penetration, some nasty stuff, light choking, a few corporate jargons, jk is a dick who is smitten with oc, jk is selfish asf, threats of violence (not against OC).

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Word count: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Disclaimer: This is a two-shot which delves into themes that may be triggering or dark in nature. It is important to note that the behaviors portrayed by Jungkook are purely fictional and do not reflect his real-life character. Reader discretion is advised. Minors are discouraged from engaging with this content. Remember, plagiarism is a serious offense.

“©© All rights reserved to @sunshine-and-kookies. No translations permitted without explicit authorization.”

°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°

"This is unbelievable", you lament, hunched over your desk.

"How did the stocks plummet so much?"

"Miss. L/N, The stock market is a gamble." Mr. Kwon offers.

"I am aware of that Mr. Kwon. But the risks we took were calculated." You massage your temples, grumbling defensively under your breath.

The predicament at hand induced mixed emotions in you. On one hand, you were anxious. Anxious for the employees who have a family to fend for, the news headlines they'll be witnessing and the confrontation you'll need to have with the stakeholders.

On the other, less dominant hand, you felt uncannily relieved.

Ever since your company, Jubilee and Co, invested in the share market with you at the helm, you've been waiting for something to go awry.

Simply, because you couldn't fathom anything remotely auspicious happening under your leadership. Not because you didn't have faith in your capabilities. No.

It was because you've gotten the short end of the stick from life so often that you've grown accustomed to it.

And now that your trepidations have borne fruit, you feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders.

Gingerly clutching the cup of coffee perched on your table, you take a sip. This was not the time to wallow in self pity.

"Mr. Kwon, prepare an excel sheet that has all the consolidated data of the company's capital. We can't afford any delays. I have to begin looking for plausible shareholders."

You could feel the soreness kicking in, as you knead the knots in your shoulder.

It was gonna be a long day.

..............................................................................................................................

You peer at your phone's self camera for the umpteenth time.

Huffing, as you rake your fingers through your hair. Everything about your outfit seemed off but scrounging for a better one would take an eternity. You were living on borrowed time as it is.

"Miss. Y/N L/N, Mr. Jeon is ready for you."

You stand upright, hands clenching the portfolio in your hand futilely, your heels scuffing across the floor of the hallway.

Navigating through the huge corridor, you spot the door of the room where the incumbent CEO sits.

Knocking lightly, you speak "Mr Jeon?"

"Come in."

His husky voice beckons.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you step into the room.

And as soon as you do, you're rendered awestruck by the cabin.

It has expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the bustling city below.

The golden hour sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

The walls, adorned with exquisite golden motifs, which no doubt must have cost a fortune.

Fitting for a billionaire like him, you suppose.

Right in the center of the room is a rich mahogany desk, cluttered with documents.

Perched behind the desk is Jeon Jeongguk, the formidable CEO of Jeon Enterprises. It is renowned globally as the only firm which deals with technological ergonomics. Their unparalleled success transcended borders, setting the standard worldwide.

Needless to say, Jubilee and Co was a far cry from Jeon Enterprises.

You've read enough tabloids about the cold, formidable CEO to know what might transpire.

On behalf of your company's stakeholder, you'll ask him for help. He'll eye you incredulously, disdain marring his face before he politely calls the security guard to escort this deranged woman out.

You're taking a leap of faith coming here and hoping a tech tycoon like him even spares you a glance.

You hear him take a sharp intake of breath, prompting you to look at him.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes widened, as he stared at you from across the room.

His gaze trailed your dainty form from top to bottom, eyes darkening the more they consume you.

You shudder.

You should have taken time to look for a more flattering outfit. Or maybe your hair was dishevelled?

Clearing your throat, you politely ask him, "May I take a seat, Mr Jeon?"

Caught off guard, Mr. Jeon suddenly stands up before motioning for you to sit.

"Please do, Miss...?"

"Y/N L/N." , you supply.

"Y/N..." His dulcet voice repeats your name, as though in a trance.

There was an eerie tension in the room but you would be damned if you let it get to you and lose this golden opportunity.

"As the chief operating officer, I'm here to represent Jubilee and Co."

This was it.

This was the part where you'll be catapulted out of the building by big and buff security men--

"How may I be of assistance to Jubilee and Co. today?"

You blanch.

Out of all outcomes you were expecting would ensue your introduction, this was the most unexpected one.

You were not prepared for this, how do you broach the proposal of an alliance now?

Quickly gathering yourself, you resume.

"We are honoured you have decided to give us the time of the day, Mr Jeon."

"Don't mention." His tone, though professional, betrayed a hint of eagerness.

"From what I presume, you're here to ask for an affiliation." He continues.

"Your stakeholders want Jubilee and Co to become a subsidiary under Jeon Enterprises."

You were tongue tied.

Mr. Jeon was an astute man. You'll give him that.

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

"And why, exactly, should I invest in a company that is, for a lack of better word, in shambles? Inundated with abysmal employees", He rejoinders.

You wince. No matter how true his word were, they were acerbic.

Jubilee was like a baby to you.

You've gone through hell to make it transition from a tier 3 brand name to a decently esteemed firm. You've spent countless sleepless nights looking after it, skipped meals to tend to it's wounds.

Chagrined, you speak before your brain can process your words.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon. But Jubilee is more than just its current state. It's a testament to resilience, to the countless hours of dedication and hard work put in by its employees, including myself."

Your gaze meets his, vulnerability shining in your eyes.

"Yes, we may have faced setbacks, but we've also overcome them. I believe that adversity often presents the greatest opportunities for growth. I understand your reservations, Mr. Jeon, but I urge you to consider the untapped potential within Jubilee. With the right investments and guidance, I firmly believe that it has the potential to rise from its current situation and flourish once again."

A hush falls over the room.

Jeongguk's gaze remained unwavering, fixed on your face throughout your entire tirade.

"Consider me convinced, Miss. Y/N."

"S-Sir?"

"I guarantee. Jubilee's stock will be restored, funds will be augmented, and brand reputation will be unrivalled. The employees that will henceforth be inducted will be recruited by my personal hiring team."

You can barely hear the rest of his sentence, already thrumming with excitement. Your mind plotting all the ways you can get back at the naysayers.

The resurgence of Jubilee is inevitable, now that you have Jeongguk on board.

"But, you must understand Y/N, there are no free lunches in this world."

And just like that all your dreams come crashing down.

"Pardon, sir?"

Mr. Jeon gracefully rises from his chair, closing the proximity between the both of you as he leans on the front of the desk, positioned directly in front of you.

"I'll accede to all your demands, but I want a fair trade."

Mr. Jeon's words hang in the air. You had hoped for a smooth negotiation, where was this coming from?

"What kind of fair trade are you suggesting, Mr. Jeon?"

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze.

"I'll provide my expertise, my resources, to ensure Jubilee's revival," he begins.

"But in return, I ask for something beyond the confines of business."

There is a tacit silence enveloping the room.

The implication of his suggestion is glaringly blatant.

Situations like these were rife in the corporate world. Pleasure in exchange for business gains was not unheard of.

What was however, unheard of, was an employee of Jubilee engaging in such lewd dalliances.

While they were definitely slacking and inept when it comes to work and strategies, Jubilee has maintained a pristine image of possessing the most morally sound employees.

You are caught in a mire.

On one hand, you are disgruntled that he thought you were so shallow that you'll take him up on an offer as promiscuous as that.

But on the other hand, you are convinced this is your only shot at reviving Jubilee. Jungkook's assets and team marshalled together will undoubtedly take Jubilee to unprecedented heights.

"We have a deal, Mr. Jeon."

..............................................................................................................................

"Jeongguk, stop please! Not now, I have to get ready for a meeting."

"I don't renege on my promises, baby girl." He hums, biting your lower lip as his hands fondle your clothed chest.

"And I expect the same from you, yeah?"

The past few months have been very conducive for Jubilee.

As expected, with Jeongguk's acumen & assistance, the company is practically thriving, now in a league comparable to the unicorns.

And it had to be. You've traded yourself for its prosperity after all.

"Fuck", the expletive rolls off your tongue as a strangled moan.

His palms knead the flesh as he grinds his hips on your clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty, my baby. Got me wrapped around your little finger like a hormonal fucking teenager."

He grunts in your ear as one of his hands find purchase on your hip, the other smoothly lifting your pencil skirt to stroke your thigh.

"Kook, I c-can't"

He is terse as he pants, "Yes, you can. You will do everything I ask you to, am I clear?"

"Y-Yeah"

"Good girl" He dotes.

Unbuttoning your top and latching his tongue onto your now bare nipple.

"Stop teasing Kook, touch me already. I'm so fuckin' wet"

He grins as he resumes his ministrations on your inner thigh, cheekily peering up at you from where he is stationed, between your breasts.

"Someone's needy."

You huff exasperated, placing a hand on his as you halt him.

"Fine, I'll just ask Taehyung for help. He won't deny me anyways."

All air escapes you as you're suddenly jerked, your bare back meeting the wall with a thud.

You open your eyes at the sudden movement.

Jeongguk's laborious breath is laden with ire.

Eyes closed. Jaw clenched.

His previous playful beam, nowhere to be found.

He takes in a deep breath before opening his eyes.

They're the darkest you've ever seen them. Pupils enlarged to an extent that his eyes appear pitch black.

You fucked up.

His hand comes up as he lightly chokes you, not enough to hurt you but enough to cause a pool of wetness dripping down your thighs in its wake.

"Say shit like that one more time and see me burn that fucker alive."

"You have the fucking audacity to even think of another man, when yours is right in front of you? Don't you fucking forget who you belong to Y/N. You're fucking mine. Body, Heart and Soul. You've sworn your loyalty to me. You've surrendered yourself to me completely the day I agreed to buy that shitty company of yours."

Your panties are completely drenched at this point and you're unsure if its because you're turned on or petrified of how vexed he has become by the mere thought of you with another man, even though you had said it in jest.

Without any preamble, his fingers prod at your entrance as he sinks them in. Your walls embracing him like second skin.

"Even your tight little pussy isn't yours anymore. It belongs to Jeon Jungkook.”

He slaps your pussy immediately after, as though proving his point.

“And I don't fucking share, so you better pray to any deity you worship that I don't fucking catch you masturbating or so help me god."

He fingers you passionately. Not stopping even after you plead him to.

"T-Too sensitive, K-Kook."

Unbuckling his belt, He pulls out his penis. It stands tall, proud and red with pre cum oozing out of the tip.

You grab him for stability as he pushes the tip in, letting your walls adjust and clamp before he brutally picks up his pace.

"Tell me who you belong to." He bellows.

Too out of it, you fail to form a coherent response.

THWACK.

He slaps your ass hard.

Once. Twice. Too many times to count.

"I-I'm yours Koo, only yours." you manage to say, eager to cajole him.

"Damn right you are." He hums, seemingly placated with your answer. Picking up his pace, he spits in your mouth, meshing his tongue with yours, while his fingers play with your clit.

You feel the familiar warmth below your cervix, as you groan,

"C-Cumming"

He gently pats your hair, kissing your earlobe.

"Let go, baby."

As you ride off your high, too blissful to pay attention to your surroundings, you don't notice the way Jeongguk's gaze darkens.

............................................................................................................................

Part: 1 of 2

“©© All rights reserved to @sunshine-and-kookies. No translations permitted without explicit authorization.”

to turn a bad thing good | jjk. masterlist

➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.  

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing: ceo!jungkook x law student!reader

➵ genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst 

➵ rating: 18+

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol/marijuana consumption, mentions of ptsd/trauma, mentions of confrontative violence (with other characters, not each other), explicit sexual content, oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (chapters have their own warnings!)

➵ playlist: “my time” by jk 🥺 in a way the lyrics are perfect <3

➵ status: ongoing 

↠  chapter one: “i’ve been to someone’s tomorrow” (12k)

↠  chapter two: “i’ll be in airplane mode”  (13k)

↠  chapter three: “don’t know what to do, am I livin’ this right?” (12k)

❥ ⇢ faq: 

(unavailable)

❥ ⇢ extras: 

➵ tracking tag

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

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

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

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

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

word count: 18k

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

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

────୨ৎ────

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

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

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

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

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

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!”

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

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

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

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

“You’re not my best friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Namjoon.”

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

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

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

He grimaces, “Gross.”

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

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

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

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

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

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

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

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

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

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

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

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

“You love me.”

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

────୨ৎ────

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

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

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

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

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“He was just talking with some of his—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, we got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

────୨ৎ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”