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latetaektalk · 23 days

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love to hate you | jjk [viii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 18.351

— warnings: swearing/cursing, communication skills nowhere to be found, chronic overthinking, emotional rollercoaster, confusingly set during christmas <3

— a/n: and just like that we've crossed 100k !! its here, the big one. by far one of my favourite chapters that ive written so far!! hope you guys enjoy it!! praying yall wont hate me for this one haha once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

You didn’t miss the look Chaeyoung and Jisoo exchanged, or the way Hoseok longingly looked after Jimin as he quickly walked away to get everyone some food after you sat down, or how Jimin muttered something about how someone clearly needed something to eat. The comment didn’t bother you because he was right and you could admit as much.

The mall had never been your favourite place to go, and even less so today. The Christmas decoration put up around you seemed overly tacky and in bad taste, and you could have ripped off your ears, sick of listening to the same three Christmas songs over and over again. You closed your eyes that ached from the bright colourful lights, and scrunched your nose when your arm bumped into one of your shopping bags. Your patience hung by a string, the fibers breaking with every passing second. Everything hurt, from your head to your arms and your feet.

Nothing was right, and there seemed to be no end to it.

“Fries?”

Jimin specifially offered them to you, placing two medium plates of golden fries in the middle of the table. You took him up on it, taking two and throwing them into your mouth. The fries were bland and not salty enough but you took three more pieces, shoving your face full. As if the grease and carbs would fix anything.

“Do you wanna try the thrift store that Ji suggested?” Chaeyoung asked, choosing her words carefully, and you cringed, shaking your head.

“No.”

The silence continued, and you didn’t miss the looks your friends exchanged. There was clearly a conversation going on over your head, but you didn’t care, reaching for one fry after the other.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be fine,” Jimin said in the end, putting his arm around your shoulder. Bold, but when was he not. “Don’t be so down. That one dress- the beige one looked great on you!”

“Yeah, but also, they don’t care about what you wear,” Jisoo continued, not allowing you to even begin to disagree.

“And you still have time to find the perfect thing, right? If you do decide that the dress isn’t up to standard. Didn’t you get some stuff online too?” Hoseok asked, trying to get you to look at him, but you just closed your eyes and pulled your lips into a line.

They didn’t get it. But telling them that would be of no use, just like how their words didn’t encourage you the slightest bit.

“I promise you Kook’s parents are really the sweetest people I’ve-”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” you mumbled, cutting off Jimin. You rubbed your eyes until you saw black spots. With a sigh, you leaned back. “I’ll figure it out, I think.”

There was no confidence in your words. To you, it seemed like your life was about to end, all over a stupid outfit you couldn’t put together. The thought almost made you laugh and cry at the same time. This was as ridiculous as it could get.

“What did Kook say?” Chaeyoung asked, and you frowned.

“About what?”

She blinked at you, her brows creasing together. “Well, have you talked to Kook about any of this? How you’re worried about meeting his parents?”

You pressed your mouth into a line, and you didn’t even know where to begin. It seemed futile to you to explain that you possibly couldn’t tell Jungkook about all of the thoughts suffocating your mind. You would look stupid, like an absolute fool. You would look like you cared, and really, you didn’t. It would weird him out—how much you stressed about it, how much it was on your mind. But then again, really, actually, you didn’t care at all. You just were… especially irritable these days. Hormones were raging—your period, of course, greeting you just a day prior.

“No,” you exhaled, shaking your head. You didn’t know what exactly you were denying—you being stressed about meeting his parents, or you not talking about it to him. Probably both. “He’s busy with his stuff. He’s got a paper to finish- it’s fine.”

And even though you closed your eyes, you knew your friends were looking at each other. There was a carefulness with which they spoke to you, and you did feel bad. Just nothing seemed to lift your spirits.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in… a good mood these days,” you told them, getting more annoyed at yourself for being the way you were. You hid your face in your hands. “I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assured you. “We know you’re stressed.”

Jisoo placed an arm around you, leaning her shoulder against yours. She opened her mouth before closing again, ultimately she decided to speak.

“What if… you don’t go?”

“Ji,” Jimin whispered, looking at her as if she had just suggested something criminal.

“I’m just saying— it’s stressing her out so much, maybe she shouldn’t go.” Jisoo shrugged, believing her suggestion to be rather harmless. “She can meet his parents another time, right?”

You looked at her. She grimaced, apologetic, about to backpedal, taking your expression as offence. But you waved her off. Her suggestion was meant well, you knew that. It would also be more than a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it too. Of course, you had. But you couldn’t do it. Not when the image of Narae popped into your mind every time you did consider it.

“Okay, fine,” Jisoo sighed, relenting. “But I’m just saying he’ll understand if you don’t want to go. It’s not like you guys are getting married.”

Chaeyoung mumbled something to her, but you couldn’t hear it. If you had to guess she told her to lay it off, which you were admittedly thankful for.

“I don’t even have gifts,” you groaned, remembering that your outfit wasn’t the only issue plagueing your mind. “Do I bring an actual gifts? Or just wine? Flowers? Something more personal? I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you have to bring them anything?” Hoseok asked, frowning. “I mean yeah, I guess it’s Christmas and you’re meeting them for the first time, but I don’t know, I’m not sure if you have to bring them anything.”

“I don’t think you do. They’re just happy to meet you, I promise,” Jimin said, squeezing your shoulder, but somehow, his answer annoyed you even more. Because what if he was wrong? And they use it as a reason as to why they didn’t like you because you showed up empty handed? Poor and rude? You wouldn’t even take a single step in their home. And even if Jimin was right, that they were just happy to meet you—it seemed even worse. Because all you had to show for yourself to Jungkook’s parents then would be…. yourself.

And what if that wasn’t enough?

You groaned, leaning back again. Everything was making your situation only worse, giving you an even bigger headache, feeding the heavy pit in your stomach. And as you spiraled, you didn’t notice the rather obvious text Chaeyoung send, or the even more obvious way Jimin’s phone lit up on the table to display it, just for him to quickly grab it and start typing. Jisoo leaned over to look, and Chaeyoung quickly mumbled something into Hoseok’s ear. You wouldn’t even notice the way Chaeyoung jumped when you spoke suddenly again,

“Let’s just finish eating and go home. I wanna go home.”

No one protested.

By the end, the fries were gone and the grease had eaten through the recycled brown paper plates, and your mood wasn’t much better, still the same level of annoyance always buzzing in the back of your mind. Grabbing the bags from the various shops you had walked in and out of with your friends today, you made your way out of the mall. Stepping outside, you hugged yourself, the wind harsher than the past few days.

“What way is your car again?” you asked, teeth gritting. Your question was aimed at Chaeyoung, but you didn’t have the nerve to look at her. With the tip of your boot, you scraped against the concret, enjoying the way it rolled back and forth. You lifted your head when no one would answer, confused by the silence.

“Oh, uh,” Chaeyoung began, glancing at Jimin who was typing away on his phone. “Give us… a minute.”

She said it as if it was a question, gesturing for you to wait. You looked over to Jisoo and Hoseok for some sort of explanation, but they both kept their mouths shut.

“Where’s your girlfriend’s car?”

Hoseok blushed, and you knew he still wasn’t used to the development of his and Chaeyoung’s relationship. It was cute, and it did make you smile a little.

“Just tell me.”

You tried nice. Nice didn’t work.

“I-I don’t know.”

You sighed, your hands on your hips, shopping bags knocking on your legs. The cold wavered your voice.

“Ji?”

But rather than even say anything, or make an attempt to stall you, she waved you off, flicking her wrist back and forth. At least, Hoseok and Chaeyoung tried to dismiss you subtly.

“Oh my God, what are you guys looking at? Can we just go home, I’m really cold here and I just wanna-”

“Ah, yes, he’s here!” Jimin exclaimed before slapping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Oops.”

You stopped, not needing a second to understand. Jisoo punched his arm.

“You texted Jeon?”

If you were upset and annoyed before, you were even more so now. You leaned forward, as if the reality weighed down on you and physically pushed you. Your eyes darted back and forth between your friends before ultimately landing on Jimin, who was shrinking in on himself.

“Are you guys for real?” you hissed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You could have ripped out your hair. “But why?”

Everyone looked to Chaeyoung. “We- we think it’d be good if you talk to him. You’re clearly stressed about meeting his parents, so why not talk about it?”

She added on a smile, and you closed your eyes, groaning.

“Guys, I’m fine.” You dug your hands through your hair, looking over your shoulder, relieved to see that he was nowhere. “Where is he? Is he here already? Tell him to go home. He has a paper to-”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Go home.”

“Damn, hi, it’s nice to see you too, cabbage,” Jungkook laughed, grinning at you even as you frowned at him. He pinched your nose, and you didn’t even have it in you to swat his hand aside, closing your eyes instead.

“You guys weren’t kidding. She’s in a bad mood.”

Your frown deepened, mouth setting into a thin line. Jungkook squeezed your shoulder, quietly apologising to you for his comment, but his smile remained on his lips.

“Alright, I think—” Chaeyoung hooked her arm into Hoseok’s. “—it’s time to go.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Jungkook said, nodding to confirm his own words. “Get home safe.”

“Great, text us when you get home,” Jisoo said, waving at you. “We love you, Y/N! And oh, nice scarf!”

Jungkook laughed, thanking her.

“Yeah, good luck, Kook! Also love ya, Y/N!” Jimin laughed before taking off, sprinting ahead, scared you might just throw one of your bags after him. (Which you were strongly considering) The others waved you goodbye, and even though you were more than ticked off, you did the same, mumbling a goodbye their way. God knows they had put up with your attitude with enough grace today already. You sighed once they left your sight, shrugging off Jungkook.

You looked at him and your gaze softened, if only a little. Even more so when you saw it, wrapped around his neck so prettily. There was something very messy about him today—his hair not done in its usual way, hanging into his eyes, getting longer each time you saw him, the collar of his coat not folded down properly. If you had to guess, he had walked out the moment he got the text from Jimin. But he had thought of your scarf, looped it around his neck carefully. Looking at him now, out in the cold, you were glad you had invested the time into learning how to knit. The scarf suited him, the red matching him well. You were almost tempted to knit another one, one in every colour.

“You’re wearing the scarf.”

“Of course,” he returned, smiling at you, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt, red from the cold.

The thought embarrassed you. You looked down, returning to rolling the tip of your boot on the conrete, back and forth, back and forth.

“Go home.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go home together.”

He reached to take the bags from you, but you pulled away, lifting your head. “No, Jeon, go home. I’m fine.”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. This wasn’t going to be easy, he realised. “And how will you get home?”

His question made you frown, as if that was the issue at hand right now. You almost scoffed.

“I’ll walk-”

“Right, because walking in the cold is such a good idea, hm?

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

“Do you even know where the next bus station is?”

“I can look it up.”

“Or you can just, you know,“ he leaned towards you, and you couldn’t back off, “not be so stubborn and let me just give you a ride home.”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head. Why was he being oh so frustrating? Why couldn’t he make this easy for you? Why wasn’t he at all discouraged by your behaviour? It didn’t make any sense to you. He should be annoyed with you and your attitude, infuriated because you were being difficult for no real reason. And yet, he smiled and laughed at you, showed you patience. It was strange to you, unexpected.

“I never asked you to pick me up.”

It was like you were a goddamn teenager, fighting with her parents, trying your very best to tick them off. It was like you wanted him to be mad at you, and in some ways, in some real ways, maybe you did. You felt sorry for your friends about your attitude, but not with Jungkook somehow. For some reason, you couldn’t extend the same empathy to him. At least not in this moment.

He didn’t say anything, hesitated, his brows creasing together. His eyes darted to the ground before ultimately finding you again, tongue in his cheek, nodding. For a moment, you thought you won, did it.

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Jungkook said, taking one two three steps in your direction, slowly prying the shopping bags from you. “But I’m still here to pick you up.”

And when he met you with a smile, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do. You let your head hang, as tears shot into your eyes. It had never happened before, you were never one quick to cry, but right now you felt like it. You blinked them away, not allowing Jungkook to know.

He took your silence as a sign of defeat, which it was. Very much so. He had won, and you had to admit that you were actually relieved. That he had proven you wrong, that he hadn’t just left after you had repeatedly insisted he should, or gotten annoyed and sick with you.

Jungkook shifted all of the shopping bags into one hand, using his free one to grab yours. Like he would, of course he would, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before putting your hands into his coat pocket to keep warm, together. You could have begun crying again.

“Be a good girlfriend, alright?” he told you, leading you to his car, and you scoffed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as unstable and shaky as you felt.

“Be a good girlfriend?” you repeated, raising a brow. Jungkook was quick to see his mistake and correct himself,

“I mean, let me be a good boyfriend to my girlfriend and pick her up after a—” He hesitated, squinting as if he was searching for the right word. “—fun, right?”

There was something inherently cheeky and smug about Jungkook. But you couldn’t quite take offence to any of it, nodding, even if you knew that today wasn’t the funnest day. (And you were to blame.)

“Fun day at the mall with her friends.”

You pressed your lips together. “But what about your paper?”

He paused and looked at you before shaking his head and laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m almost done. I’ll finish it at your place.”

His hand squeezed yours, and you hated how warm he made you feel. How the warmth spread from your chest to the the tips of your ears and feet. How even if you tried, he remained patient with you. You hated it because it made it so much harder, for you not to fall for him again and again. You hated it because you almost believed him that you could be one of those stupidly in love couples that held hands in their pockets and made each other scarfs.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you climbed inside, thankful for the few seconds you had to yourself as he loaded your shopping bag into the trunk. Without a word, he gave you his phone, and by now, you knew the drill.

You unlocked his phone in second before quickly typing in your current location into Google maps. Your address popped up at the top, bookmarked, when you tapped to enter the destination. Handing him his phone back, you wondered what Jungkook’s password meant, 09052020. It seemed so oddly specific, but you didn’t bother asking.

“You should show me what you got.”

The water remained in your mouth a second longer before you swallowed it, slowly screwing the top back on the bottle, eyes set on Jungkook. You shook your head and leaned against your kitchen counter. He was just a few steps away from you, sitting on your couch, taking up all the space, arms spread left and right.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He gave you a look, as if to say oh please! His head rolled back for a second.

“I think you should.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your phone out of your pocket instead. Deeming your silence as enough of an answer, you scrolled through your phone, opening the group chat between your friends and you, your feet crossing at your ankle. But before you could even read one text-

“But isn’t that why you were in a bad mood?”

It seemed brave of Jungkook to address it so openly. Or maybe just incredibly honest. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t seem afraid at all that you might just dip back into your bad mood at the mention of it and come out bats swinging. It was admirable in some ways. You didn’t rememeber him to be this confrontative a few months ago when you started this, him and you. He seemed to have found a confidence with you now, convinced he knew the ins and outs of you. Maybe he did. He probably did, in some ways. You couldn’t say if you liked it all that much.

You snorted, an attempt to make light of the situation. “Yeah, so why bring it up again?”

Jungkook reached his hands out to you, a gesture for you to come his way. You thought about it for a moment before abandoning both your phone and the water bottle on the kitchen counter and moving over. He scooted to the edge of your couch to allow you to step between his legs. His hands held yours, thumbs brushing the inner part of your wrist, back and forth.

“My parents don’t care,” he told you, staring up at you with his big eyes, squeezing your hands as he spoke, physically stressing his words. “They really don’t care, I promise you. They’re just excited to meet you. And so am I, excited.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in with you and take effect.

“But I know you care and you’re stressed about it,” Jungkook mumbled, and you couldn’t look at him, eyes finding the floor instead, right where your carpet curled up because sometimes your couch would dig into it and flip it up. It was so very embarrassing that he knew how much you cared. It felt like you were ripping out your heart and letting him inspect it. You wanted to correct him, set the record straight that really, you didn’t care at all whatsoever! but it felt like a cheap attempt, even more humiliating.

“So why don’t you show me?” he asked, shaking your hands to get you to look at him. You didn’t want to but did anyway. His gaze was soft, just like his smile, and his hair fell into his eyes. You brushed it away. It made his smile widen, so much so he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

It was sealed for you then.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, defeated, moving away from him to dig through your shopping bags. “Look away.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean?” you frowned. “I’m changing.”

Jungkook’s features morphed from a frown to a smile in a second before he ultimately began laughing. “Are you really gonna be too embarrassed to change in front of me?” He gave you a moment to deny it. “I’ve seen and touched-”

“Oh my God, just turn around,” you hissed, and for some reason, your cheeks were as hot as the sun. “Either that, or I won’t try on anything.”

He exhaled the most dramatic sigh he could, making a point to show you that he even pressed his hands to his eyes. Just for that, you wanted to kick him. But you should have known that Jungkook wasn’t quite done, needing to squeeze in one more comment, purely to annoy you and nothing more. There wasn’t anything serious about it at all, no deeper meaning.

“Are you gonna be like this when we’re married with kids?”

You froze, arms up and your face mushed together by your sweater and half of your body exposed to the naked air with only your bra to show for. He wasn’t serious, you knew. There was lightness and an obvious teasing embedded with his words. You doubted Jungkook even expected a response from you, probably just enjoyed knowing he made you flustered even if he couldn’t see it. And yet, your heart began pounding and your hands sweating and your cheeks burning and your mind reeling for any possible retort you could offer. Before you could stutter something, he spoke again,

“Sorry.”

The smile was evident in his voice, and when you finally peeled off your sweater, you turned out to be right. You shook your head, throwing your sweater at him before you could think better of it. It hit him in the face.

“Ow, cabbage! That’s not fair, I have my eyes-”

“I’m so close to kicking you out, you know?” you mumbled, keeping your voice quiet as if raising it by any means was dangerous. You pulled off your pants and your stockings you had layered underneath for some extra warmth.

“I said I’m sorry, cabbage.”

But Jungkook sounded far from sincere. You didn’t bother responding, grabbing one of the shopping bags and slipping on the sweater you had thrifted. It was off the shoulders and this warm midnight blue colour, rich and beautiful and cozy. You moved to your old dresser and pulled out the black maxi skirt you had thought to combine it with. The outfit was simple, but with the right accesoires (ones you would still have to buy which the thought of it already gave you a headache), it could work. At least, it could in theory because when you looked at yourself in your full body mirror (which you had thrifted when you had first moved in), you frowned.

“Can I look?”

You gave a grunt in response, still looking at your reflection as if you had put together the most hideous outfit possible. It wasn’t much of a yes or no, so for a few seconds Jungkook hesitated, but he slowly peeled his eyes open.

“Oh, cabbage! You look so amazing-”

“No.”

It was as simple as that for you, shaking your head.

“What? But you look-”

“I don’t like it,” you said, already moving to take off the skirt. “Close your eyes.”

You expected some sort of protest from Jungkook, but he actually did as you said. Just as quick as you had decided that the outfit wouldn’t work, you peeled it off of you. You rummaged through your next shopping bags, looking at the pieces you had gotten—a cream knit sweater and white maxi skirt. But all of a sudden, you hated it. You clearly remembered loving the clothes in the store, giving the outfit a couple spins and scrutiniscing it from head to toe until it was deemed worthy of your money. But right now as you looked at it, you felt quite the opposite.

With a sigh, you pulled the last shopping bag towards you. It had the dress your friends had mentioned you should wear. This time, you didn’t inspect it any further, not having the nerve for it. So you just bunched up the fabric and slipped it on. But you didn’t tell Jungkook you were finished changing. Instead you turned and looked at yourself in the mirror first.

Jisoo had found it for you—a maxi slip dress. It was in a beautiful and rich wine red colour, oozing warmth, and soft to the touch. The satin flowed down your body, hugging your curves, and reflecting your dim living room lights like water. Lace was stitched along the neckline, which otherwise probably would have been a little too low given the occasion. The straps securing the dress were tied up into small ribbons around your shoulders, giving it a more dainty and playful look. The slit on the left side reached up until your knee, allowing the fabric to move along with your body in harmony. It was a beautiful dress, made for any occasion with the correct accessoires and styling.

You were objectively and undeniably beautiful in it.

And yet, you stared at yourself as if it wasn’t, brows knitted together and lips pursed in a pout, eyes wandering up and down. It wasn’t insecurity—you felt great and comfortable in the dress. But something about it just wasn’t right. You tried imaging yourself all dolled up in it, hair and makeup done to your liking, but the frown remained. It wasn’t perfect enough.

You shook your head, moving to take it off. When you turned on your heel, you looked straight at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked straight at you. His eyes were big and wide and set on you, his mouth agape and curling up into a smile. You gasped, both in surprise and upset.

“W-why are you looking?” you hissed, feeling the heat crawl up your neck, and you threw your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry. You- you just took so long, cabbage. And so I looked and…” Jungkook finished his sentence with a simple shrug and smile. You frowned at his answer, shaking your head.

“Close your eyes,” you spat through gritted teeth, turning around to change out of the dress. “I’m changing-”

“What? Why?” Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, jumping up from his seat and moving your way, shaking his head. “You look amazing! Please don’t change. I love this dress on you!”

He stopped short in front of you, turning you around and taking your hands into his.

“This dress suits you so well,” he whispered as if it was some sort of secret. You looked to the mirror behind you, inspected yourself, eyes shooting up and down. Jungkook stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers interlacing in front of the soft of your belly. He pushed you to lean fully against him, his eyes scanning every inch of you.

“You’re so pretty. So very pretty.”

His words tasted like Christmas chocolate, were thick with honey and sugar, stuck to your teeth. They were bad. Horrible. For you and your heart. Because they sounded so very believable.

“You look incredible.”

He finished with a kiss to the back of your head, and you didn’t know where to look. You placed your hands on his, tentatively, and he was quick to take them into his, scoop them up and hold them tight. He had to know, you thought to yourself, how hard your heart was beating.

“Don’t you like it?”

You met his gaze in the mirror, mouth settled into a line.

“I like the dress,” you said, tilting your head.

“But?”

“I don’t like it for…”

“Meeting my parents?” Jungkook supplied when you wouldn’t finish your sentence, and you didn’t answer, averting your gaze instead. “What do you not like about it?”

You closed your eyes, feeling so very silly. Because you couldn’t say. You didn’t know. There shouldn’t be anything to dislike about the dress, nothing about it was wrong—you loved every little detail, and even more how you felt in it.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think my opinion really matters here,” Jungkook laughed, and you peeled your eyes open, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was annoying. Just couldn’t provide you with a simple answer when he even has already voiced his thoughts. “But I think you look really pretty in this dress.”

You scrunched your nose. “How pretty?”

“So pretty I wouldn’t mind going blind now.”

You smiled, no, grinned. He was so stupid.

“So pretty I can’t believe you don’t like it.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“So pretty I don’t want you to ever take it off again.”

He pressed kisses to your neck and shoulder, nose burying into your hair, words mumbled into your skin, and hands beginning to wander further south, scrunching the fabric. You let him.

”So pretty I want to take a picture of you and print it out and hang it up above my bed and also keep another one in my wallet and change my background picture to-”

“O-okay, enough!” you said, pushing him away from you because your limbs were beginning to tingle and burn, and his touch was sending shocks through your entire body. Even more so, his hands were beginning to go to places he shouldn’t, not right now at least. You made sure to keep him at an arm’s length, palm pressing into his chest, in fear he’d simply close the distance if you didn’t physically stop him.

“You’re so ridiculous, Jeon,” you said, shaking your head, laughing a little. “You can never be serious, can you?”

“But I am! I’m very serious! Looking at you makes me wanna-”

You were quick to shake your head, hands pressing to your ears because no no no, you didn’t want to know! All while you were smiling, grinning almost. Without realising it, Jungkook had done the impossible—lifted your mood, made you laugh when you felt irritated and annoyed by everything before.

“Fine, I won’t tell you!” Jungkook sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes. You looked at him, lowering your hands, your smile cemented on your lips.

“You’re so stupid, Jeon,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose, and he gasped in faux upset.

“That’s so mean, cabbage!”

“Oh, just shut up.”

Jungkook slung his arms around your middle, doing so before you could even think to stop him. His chin dropped to your shoulder, hands scopping up yours again and eyes meeting in the mirror.

“So, what do we think?”

You raised a brow. “Now, it’s we? I thought your thoughts didn’t matter-”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Fine, what do you think?”

And you inspected yourself again, gaze wandering up and down. You didn’t know what it was, but the dress seemed different now. It was still the same fabric, same cut, nothing had changed, but you remembered why you had bought the dress, why you had taken Jisoo up on her offer to try it on when she had shown it to you. Because it was beautiful, even more so with you in it.

“Is this the dress?” Jungkook whispered into your ear, and you knew he was hoping for a yes.

You tilted your head to the side, heart beating faster when you opened your mouth. Because yes, it was. The dress, choosing it, it was another step closer to meeting Jungkook’s parents, another hurdle out of the way. Your eyes met his in the mirror, his face so close to yours. The two of you standing there together, you almost could convince yourself you were an actual couple.

“Yeah, it is.”

He beamed, tightening his arms around you, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, good, I’m glad.”

You lowered your gaze, and you wondered if he maybe feared you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t find anything to wear. If maybe that was the reason for why he came so quickly because he didn’t want you to use that excuse. Because otherwise he would have to explain to his precious and perfect parents why his girlfriend refused to meet them-

��How does the 22nd sound to you by the way?” Jungkook asked, pulling you out of your trains of thoughts, almost as if he knew. He mumbled the words into your skin, and you felt every move of his lips. “To meet my parents, I mean.”

Just eight days.

“Y-yeah, that… should work,” you returned, breathless and high pitched, eyes finding the floor. He stared at you in the reflection, nudging you to do the same. You hesitated, but did as he said, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you, oh so sincere and genuine.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

There was something assuring about the way he said it. If anyone elses told you these words, it would do you no good, bring you no relief. But when he did, it did. It was silly really.

“I promise you.”

“Yeah, really, Jeon?” you laughed shallowly, tucking a strand behind your ear and swallowing. “You promise me?”

And as if looking at your mere reflection just wasn’t enough for him, Jungkook turned you around by your hips, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I promises you, cabbage. I won’t leave you for one second, alright? Hell, I will drive you there and home again, okay? I’ll be there with you for every second of the day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to bed, glued to your side, so much so you’ll be so annoyed by me that you’ll want me gone. You won’t even go the bathroom on your own, okay?” He paused for a second, scrunching his nose. “I’ll make sure you will have the most non awkward but perfect and fun evening possible.”

His phrasing made you laugh, ebbed the waves of anxiety crashing onto your mind over and over again when you thought a little too much about the next week. His parents, him and you, in one room.

“It’s gonna be great.”

Jungkook smiled at you, a little too bright and too wide. You returned it to the best of your abilities, letting him pull you back into a hug, eyes falling shut.

“Okay, I believe you,” you told him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. “For once.”

He tightened his arms around you.

(“Do you think it will have snowed by then?” he asked you when the intro to the new episode of Avatar began playing on his laptop. You looked up, eyes catching his, your head rested against his chest and his arms around you.

“What?”

“By the 22nd I mean. Do you think it will have snowed by then?”

You frowned, thinking of the last few winters. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He thought about your answer for a few more seconds, looking off to the side before returning your gaze. “I hope. I’d like to spend a proper white Christmas with you.”

“Pray to the Gods then,” you said. “Chances aren’t so good.”

The past few years it had always only snowed in January.

“Oh, I do, every day,” Jungkook laughed, and you hummed, focusing back on the episode and missing the way his gaze softened at your sight.)

“Okay, so I’ll be back right before New Year,” Chaeyoung said, giving her calendar one last look before snapping it close again. “Who of us is gonna be here?”

Hoseok and you both let out affirmative noises, and Jimin raised his hand in a yes as well, mouth stuffed with his sandwich. You scooted closer to the table to let a guy squeeze through as he made his way to the lunch table with his friends, a tray full of bland and dry cafeteria food.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jisoo said, taking a handful of grapes from her purple grape shaped lunch box and plopping each one into her mouth. “My sister asked if I wanted to celebrate New Year’s with her. But maybe she’ll go over to her girlfriend’s. She isn’t sure yet. I’ll text you guys?”

“I’ll be here the entire holidays,” Namjoon sighed. “I still have finals.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you said, offering him a smile. He waved you off, mumbling something about how at least he was almost finished up with it all.

“Well, at least we will be spending New Year’s together, right?” Jimin said with a smile.

You took a sip from your green tea, needing warmth because your University never turned on the heaters, preferring their students to freeze. Where did your tuition money go?

“Okay, but how about Christmas eve for everyone else? When are you guys heading back home again?” Hoseok asked, shovelling his protein oatmeal into his mouth. “You’re going tonight, right, Ji? With Jennie?”

“Yeah, our train’s booked for 8 pm.”

“I’ll go on the 23rd,” Jimin said, and Chaeyoung echoed the same.

“You’re going tomorrow, right?” she asked Hoseok, and he nodded. “When are you meeting Kook’s parents again, Y/N? The 22nd?”

“Yeah.” You played with the lip of your paper cup, feeling the warmth of your tea. Your heart grew a little heavier, scared one of them would ask when you’d go meet your parents. Because you weren’t, at least not on Christmas eve. Both of them had to work, unable to take a day off. It was an irrational fear, you were aware. Because your friends knew that very well. They’d never ask, but your heart didn’t understand.

“That’s- oh my God, that’s in four days, huh?” Jisoo gasped, and the horror and terror gripping you must have reflected on your face because she was quick to interject. “Oh, sorry. No, it’s gonna be great, Y/N. I don’t know why I said that. That was stupid.”

“You’re still anxious about it, huh?” Hoseok mumbled, and though he worded it like a question, all of you knew the answer.

“Hard not to be,” you said, voice a little short and curt. “It comes in… waves.”

Namjoon patted your shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Chaeyoung reached for your hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re all gonna be there for you if it does somehow go wrong—which I highly, highly doubt might I add.”

“Well, not Jisoo. She’s gonna be home, busy showing off her Jennie,” you joked, trying to make light of the situation but it sounded just slightly off.

“What? I can’t be there for you from home?” Jisoo gasped, and before you could question how she’d do that, she continued. “I’m there for you too, telepathically! Jennie too! In your heart! Always! Over the phone! Don’t doubt us!”

You laughed a little, mouthing an apology.

“But you definitely won’t need us,” Jimin said. “Because it’s gonna be fine. Especially because Kook’s gonna make sure of it, okay?”

Before you could return something, your eyes were drawn to the doors.

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

Jungkook had his backpack strapped to his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. It shouldn’t be possible. You were technically too far for you to properly see, but you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the strain in his nape, the deep knit between his brows. He was…. annoyed. It was new to you. For a moment, you almost expected to find Narae walking behind him, bugging him, hot on his trail. It would explain it to you, and you would just simply walk over there and pull him to your table. Just like that, you would ease the knit between your brows, take the tension out of his shoulders and neck-

But it wasn’t Narae.

It was Taehyung.

He said something to Jungkook that made him roll his eyes. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to respond, shaking his head and waving his hand around, an attempt to end the conversation. But Taehyung wasn’t so kind, going on, even taking hold of his shoulder.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But they were right. Taehyung and Jungkook were both looking at you, their conversation having come to an end. When you met his gaze, Jungkook’s face contorted into something else, features twitching. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it wasn’t the usual. He didn’t soften in the way you were used to when he would see you. And when you tried a smile, Jungkook struggled to return it. You felt shot, and your smile faltered.

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head.

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other, exchanging a few words before the latter glanced at his watch and shook his head. He had to go. Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear. You must have imagined it but it looked like he glanced in your direction. But before you could think about it, Taehyung headed in the same direction he had previously come from, and Jungkook slowly made his way over, not meeting your eyes once.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him.

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong.

“We weren’t arguing.”

And as if it wasn’t enough, Jungkook put on his brightest and biggest smile. He showed it to everyone. Like a stone plunged into the deep sea, your heart sank. You had seen it before, that smile. It had decorated his lips during the Halloween party when you first walked in, or when you had first hurt his feelings while you had gone costume shopping.

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it.

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

Maybe he could feel your burning gaze on him, but Jungkook finally glanced in your direction. If only for a second, so very brief. But it dug into your heart and split it open, gutted you and left you utterly empty. You had seen him just yesterday, picked out your dress together, parted ways this morning a few hours ago, and now he seemed like another person. He looked so sad, sad in a way you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t think that any emotion close to that had ever crossed his features, not in your presence at least. It was so new and surprising to you—because somehow in your mind, you had forgotten he had the ability to feel… upset—you froze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd.

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that.

You knew it was about you. It had to be. Taehyung had glanced at your direction. You hadn’t imagined it, that much you were sure of. And the fact Jungkook hadn’t been able to look at you cemented it for you. Your heart quickened, a certain question coming to the front of your mind.

What if Jungkook didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore?

Maybe it had finally clicked with him—what it meant if you met his parents. How ridiculous it was. Because you weren’t his girlfriend. It was his parents after all. How stupid all of it was actually. Not just you meeting his parents, but the entire contract you had. How far it had gone, too far.

You pressed your lips together, a knot forming in your throat. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you now. Maybe you should be prepared for the very worst. Maybe this was it. Impact incoming! The fall was nearing its end, your end.

Your hands began shaking, curling around the edge of the table for stability. Panic built up within you, panic that really shouldn’t build up at all, you knew. Your friends blurred into an incohesive mess in front of you.

Oh God.

You didn’t see Jungkook for the rest of the day, or the one after that. In fact, you didn’t hear from him at all, until almost two days later. Maybe you should have reached out first—you did think about it. But you simply couldn’t, your hands shaking whenever you’d open your chat with him, your old messages staring back at you almost mockingly. Because what if he told you he wanted to end it? What if this was how it would end because you couldn’t wait and recklessly send a message?

There was a few seconds of silence, the sound of his breathing coming in through unsteadily. You gripped your phone tighter.

“Hey.”

Jungkook still sounded the same, and for some reason, you were surprised. Why you expected him to sound different, you didn’t know.

“Hi,” you returned, swallowing because it was your voice, in fact, that sounded odd. At least it did to you. You cleared your throat.

Usually, he’d make some joke, ask you about your day, how you were doing, where you were, if you had watched the videos he’d sent you yet, eaten already. Usually, your conversation would be much lighter, easier. Right now, you felt the air hanging between you, pulling your legs closer to your chest as you waited and waited. He had called you, he would have to speak first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t join you guys for lunch the other day,” Jungkook mumbled, and you closed your eyes.

“It’s alright,” you said, a waver to your voice and you couldn’t decide if it was because you felt cold, even though you were tucked into your bed, or because you felt uncertain of it all, like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, the deep sea awaiting you on the other side, waves crashing up on you.

Neither of you said anything.

Your throat grew dry, the questions coming back up again within you. Was he going to tell you over the phone? That he didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore. Maybe even that he wanted to call this entire thing off. That he’d realised this wasn’t worth it anymore, doing all of this to win a stupid bet he’d made with Taehyung months ago. It had gotten too exhausting, you had gotten too exhausting for him. Let’s just end it here, tell everyone you’d just fallen out of love. Hell maybe he’d be even willing to tell everyone the truth, how they’d been fooled. It had all been an act! How fun! How could you all think he was in love with-

“Everything’s alright.”

You paused. “What?”

“I-” Jungkook faltered, letting out a laugh. It came through oh so light and clear. Just not quite genuine. Or maybe you were imagining it, your mind dissecting every of his words. “I’m just trying to say- things are alright. It’s gonna be okay.”

And for some reason, you knew the words weren’t meant to reassure you. But him. He needed it right now, more than you. You blinked, nodded as if he could see.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” you repeated, quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

What exactly he referred to, you weren’t sure. And you weren’t going to ask. He’d tell you when he wanted you to know, when he was ready. Truth be told, you weren’t even entirely sure if you were ready for it, couldn’t say either where your confidence that it’d be alright came from.

“It will, right?” he laughed again, that same laugh. It came through now, the tinge of uncertainty swinging with his voice.

You added a small smile, reassurance. “Of course, it will. Always has.”

Jungkook waited a beat, thought about it for a second. “Yeah, no, yeah you’re right.”

And then, you both went back to silence again. You were the one to break it, doing so before you could think better of it and retreat. The question slipped so quickly past your lips, came out of you with the answer to it packaged within already. For once, you dared something, held out your heart.

“Do you want to come over?”

The question seemed alright at first. He’d tell you he was already on his way, in fact. Had you not heard the engine this entire time? Actually, look outside! How silly of you, he had gotten you again. You’d laugh, buzz him up while telling him how annoying he was. He’d fall into your arms, coat and scarf and shoes still on. There’d be no time for you to tell him to at least take off his shoes because he’d knock you over with his entire weight. But you’d hold him up, if not barely and struggling heavily. You’d do it, and you’d do it with a smile. He’d press a kiss to your lips and ask you again if things would just be fine. And you’d do the same as you did on the phone, like a good girlfriend does, you’d reassure him over and over again until you’d be too tired and fall asleep together. Things would truly be alright, you’d meet his parents and maybe resolve it all. Maybe he and you could be something, more. Maybe he meant it, all of it, the gestures and words and kisses. He and you, together, it could be possible-

“I’m sorry—” You wanted him to stop then. He didn’t need to elaborate. It was enough. You bit down on your tongue, hard. “I’m… just really tired today.”

Jungkook hesitated, spoke slowly, and you wanted to laugh it off, tell him it was alright and to go to sleep, but your throat knotted into a terrible mess.

He didn’t want you to meet his parents.

“Hm.”

It was the only response you could offer. Because if you spoke, he would know, and he couldn’t know—the tears that shot into your eyes.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, and wondered if your reassurance had done anything at all. If not actually you had needed it, even more than he did.

“I think- classes was exhausting, so yeah. You know, right? So I’m gonna go to bed now,” Jungkook said, and you nodded, as if he could see you, and if you checked, you’d realise it was just eight. You bit your tongue harder.

He never liked you.

“Okay,” you squeaked out, your voice a few pitches too high. He had to know, you were sure of it. Anyone would know, even a drunk Jimin could figure it out. It was blatantly obvious, and you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, scared as you awaited what he’d say. You wouldn’t know how to answer his questions if he asked you why you cried. It would be utterly humiliating to admit why—that you knew you never meant anything to him beyond what you’d agreed upon, but that he did to you. So much, in fact.

“Goodnight-”

You ended the call, your phone displayed his name for a few more seconds before you tossed it aside, uncaring that it bounced off your bed and you’d have to look for it later on the floor. A part of you wanted to laugh, outright laugh out loud, laugh so loud because maybe it would drown it out. Because were you not just silly? Stupid? Even more so for the tears that rolled down your face and stained your duvet three shades darker. Clear evidence of your silliness, your delusion, your unwavering and foolish hope.

It embarrassed and humiliated you, how quickly the tears came, how his words had crashed onto you, ship-wrecked you, buried you under. His words hurt, and his dismissal even more. Two words had been enough, had pierced your heart and left you tiptoeing a cliff. Jungkook had more power than you thought he did, power he shouldn’t be holding over your head and heart to begin with. Power he shouldn’t have because you didn’t have it over him.

A text awaited you one morning, just a day before the 22nd.

[Jeon - 07:01 AM] : can i come over later tonight?

And a text was all it took.

Jungkook was not even a second late. Someone was in a hurry to get this over with, it almost made you laugh. Your doorbell rang the moment the clock turned seven. Still, you shrieked, hesitated, stared at your front door like you hadn’t known he’d come, like you hadn’t expected him to come.

You busied yourself with your phone, swiping back and forth, as he climbed up the stairs, your back turned to the door. You just couldn’t watch as he stepped inside. This was it. He’d tell you that he’d realised this had gotten too far, out of hand. You wouldn’t have to meet his parents tomorrow, you had done your part. He’d thank you, assure you he’d break the news to your friends and take the blame. It’d be alright, you wouldn’t have to do anything. And just like before you had ever talked to Jungkook at the vending machine, you’d go your own ways.

His steps grew louder, echoed less and less until he was inside. A draft pulled through your small flat as he shut the door behind you, quiet but final. You shivered and turned off your phone, heart heavy in your chest as you prepared yourself to turn around and face him. You had thought about it all day, agonised how it’d be like to see him again the past week, how you’d handle this, how you could retain just a bit of your pride at the end of this. The scenario played over and over again in your mind—you’d look at him with a smile, tell him you understood perfectly and he didn’t need to explain. It had been stupid anyway, fun but stupid. Both of you knew this wasn’t anything really, it would come to an end. You didn’t mind it at all.

“You know, it’s alright, Jeon. I know what you wanna-”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you with his coat and scarf and shoes on. He pressed you to his chest, held you even tighter when you hesitated to return his hug, as if he needed to physically feel you, be sure you were there.

You hadn’t seen him all week, and all of a sudden, you didn’t know what to do around him anymore.

“Jeon?”

“Can you hug me?” he asked you, voice barely above a whisper, and though you had been so sure about what would happen just seconds ago, pictured how your conversation would go, you realised you knew nothing at all. You did as he said, putting your arms around his middle and squeezing as tightly as you could, holding your breath even.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, but when you pulled away, Jungkook looked at you in a way you had never seen. He took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, cabbage,” he began, and in the dim light, you could see his eyes glaze over. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me for the past week.”

He paused, breathed in deeply, looked to the side before returning his gaze to you.

“I think- there’s just been a lot on my mind, and I had to figure it out first, I think,” he continued. “I-I don’t think I fully have, but I will, soon.”

You looked at him, silent for a few seconds before you nodded, brushing your thumbs over the inside of his wrists.

“That’s okay,” you told him, giving him a smile. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know where you took your words from, where you dug up that reassurance again. Because you’d felt the opposite for the past week. It’d been a horrible week for you, sleepless and anxious.

You’d been tiptoeing a thin line, wondering every second when exactly this would blow over, just how close you were to impact, when your fall would end. Would it be a text? A call? Would he just show up to your doorstep unannounced one evening after you had come back from exhausting classes and do it then? Or would it be Jimin who’d relayed the messages? Would he not tell you at all, deeming not worth the effort even? So, it had been nice to be told the truth—that things had been confusing for Jungkook and he hadn’t figured out how to navigate it all—and yet you weren’t sure if it was enough for you, if it qualmed your worries.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” Jungkook repeated, and you wondered what he was so sorry for that he needed to apologise twice. If maybe you were right. Why else would he feel so apologetic? Was the ending coming and he just needed some more time to figure out the order of his words, unable to bring it over his heart?

You should ask him if the things plaguing his mind was how to end this. You should, really. Regardless of the answer, it would free you, however painful it might just be. You’d find peace. Maybe you feared the pain too much, the tears that would run down your face, the embarrassment that would rip you into pieces, or maybe you didn’t care enough for yourself to find out the truth, but you didn’t ask.

Your smile grew bigger, and you didn’t know who you were fooling, him or you. “Don’t be. It’s okay, Jeon.”

Jungkook took your face into his hands, staring into your eyes, looking so intensely at you like he’d never before. He was searching something, and you weren’t sure if he found it, if you held whatever he looked for at all.

“It’ll be fine,” you said, and this was for you, not him.

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated, nodding, and as he leaned closer to you, you wondered if the same would apply tomorrow. When you’d meet his parents, stand in front of them. When they’d scrutinise every little detail about you and come to their conclusion on who you were before you could even open your mouth and utter your name.

You let Jungkook pull you into a kiss, returned it with the same intensity. Both of you needed it right now. What exactly you offered each other, you couldn’t pinpoint. But it was enough to silence your mind and his too.

When his hands wandered, so did yours. He pushed you to your bed, and you let your mattress catch your fall. Your sweater landed on your floor, and soon the rest of your clothes followed. His coat and the scarf you had made him found its place at the foot of your bed. He struggled for a bit to kick off his boots before ultimately stumbling out of them.

Jungkook pressed kisses from your lips to your ear down to your neck and collarbone. Slowly, they wandered further down and down, stopping as he paid extra attention to the places he learned you liked, made your back arch in his favourite way and your breath hitch so beautifully in your throat. Soon, you were pleading with the Gods above, curling your hands around your duvet as Jungkook familiarised himself with you again. His hands pried you open, splitting you into two again and again, bringing you high above. You returned the favour, listened as he found religion through you, drawing out his relief until he needed your lips on his instead. By now, you knew him blindly, your hands finding the sensitive parts of him even as he carved his way back to yours.

“I’ve missed you,” Jungkook mumbled into your ear when he began moving, and you smiled, wrapped your arms around him. So had you.

“Me too,” you returned, your hips finding a steady rhythm together. He pressed kisses to your skin, hands holding you oh so tightly like he usually would. But he hadn’t said it, hadn’t told you for the entire week, not even now when he would on any other day—that he loved you—and so maybe that was why you fell asleep with an uneasy heart.

Had he not promised? That he’d be there for every second of the day, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went back to bed, glued to your side until you were sick of him? Was that not what he had said, the words he assured you with? So how was it that you awoke alone, like you had been for the entire past week, without him?

Jungkook wasn’t here, and yet you looked around your home like he could be hidden in some corner. He didn’t like you anymore, you were sure. Why would he? He never did to begin with. Probably regretted this more than anything else, realised just how exhausting it was to be with you. It wouldn’t be worth it. His parents wouldn’t like you, tell him that he could do better. He’d agree- actually he knew that already. Yesterday night had been a mistake, just like all the other times had been. He and you weren’t the same, never could be. Just like two mismatching puzzle pieces, you’d never make a whole picture together. You’d been right, of course. Jungkook could never like you, never saw you as anything more than a paw in this stupid cruel game between Taehyung and you. And you had been played, over and over again. How stupid of you. Foolish! This-

The blaring of your alarm brought you back to reality, the sound filling your ears. You had forgotten to turn it off. You reached for your phone, shutting it off but before you could toss it aside, you saw it. It made you pause, his name atop of your notifications. A voice memo, just over two minutes. Like it had been all you had been looking for, you hurriedly unlocked your phone. You were about to hit start, when you paused, your thumb hovering just above it. Because it could be anything—a simple breakfast run, or a goodbye. A pit grew in your stomach, and you wished he had just left you a clue about what he’d be saying in it. Your chest webbed tightly with anxiety, a rollercoaster in your throat.

You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself, eyes closed as you hit play. Whatever it might be, you’d be fine, somehow, you hoped.

“Hey, I’m so sorry—” Your chest felt so hollow, his voice unsteady. He was running, the wind blowing up the audio. He sounded far away, you had to strain to hear him properly, your phone on maximum volume. “—I know I promised to be there when you’d wake up, but—”

But I just couldn’t do this any longer. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I just didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.

“—my mom called me. She’s having an emergency with her car, and now she’s stuck in- actually, I don’t know where, but I’m on my way there to jumpstart her car. And I thought about waking you up for it, but that felt mean and you looked so peaceful, I just couldn’t. But- it’s so cold, oh my God. Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m gonna hurry, okay? So just wait for me, alright? I’ll be there, I promise.”

You heard the door of his car open and close. The wind cut out, and all of a sudden it was quiet. There was ruffling, Jungkook took his phone closer to his face. He sighed, and you could see him right in front of your eyes—sitting there in his car, hair a mess on his head, as he closed his eyes to find his words, a knit between his brows.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” he began again. “Both for leaving now because I know I had promised I’d be there, and… again for the past week. I know I’ve been shit, and I know you’ve been confused and- I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair at all-”

Neither had you however, you realised as you listened to him talk. Of course, Jungkook had only left because his mother needed his help. How could you assume the worst of him after everything? When he was so good and kind? Had been all this time to you?

“But we will figure this out, okay?”

Jungkook paused again. You pulled your legs to your chest, burying your face into your knees, teeth sinking into your tongue.

“Let’s talk about this after today. But it’s gonna be fine. Like you said it would.”

You had lied.

“What am I talking about?” He let out a small laugh, and you knew he was shaking his head at himself. “It’s already fine.”

You felt like a traitor. You were terrible.

“I’ll be back to pick you up, okay? So just wait for me. I hope I can get to you by two the latest. I hope it won’t take too long to figure it all out. You know, I actually don’t know how to jumpstart a car, so I really don’t know why my mom called me.”

He laughed again, and you didn’t think you could ever get the sound out of your mind. It was so pretty and melodic, so good and precious.

“Well, anyway, I gotta get going, but I can’t wait for tonight already. I miss you.”

You missed him too, loved him even. Did he? Could he? Could you?

It was cowardly of you, hypocritical actually. But you couldn’t do it differently, didn’t have the courage to look at Jungkook and say it. The words wouldn’t leave you, you were certain, if you stood in front of him. He deserved more than a text, but more than that he deserved the truth. And the truth was you couldn’t do this, any of it in fact, not anymore. Couldn’t meet his parents, or even pretend to be his girlfriend any longer, not in good conscience. It had to end.

Your thumbs shook as you slowly found the right letters, strung together the words and sentences. You hit delete every other word, barely getting a paragraph together in almost an hour. Because worst of all, even as you tried to offer some honesty, you knew you couldn’t offer it entirely to him, couldn’t let Jungkook know just how exactly you felt, how deeply you had plunged into love with him.

I’m sorry, Jeon, but I don’t think I can keep this going any longer. I know I said I’d meet your parents, but I think we’re just going a little too far by doing that. I hope you understand. I know I’m not fulfilling our contract and you’ll lose your bet with Taehyung and I’m really sorry, so I’ll just wire back all the money. I never touched it anyway.

You were about to finish off the paragraph, deciding that any wishes for your future relationship as friends would be too much to ask for, thumb sliding over the glass, when your phone lit up, buzzing and ringing. And right just then, you accepted the call, your heart dropping in your chest. Your stomach twisted terribly because you couldn’t do this. How could you? Hear his voice, talk to him as if you weren’t just about to call this entire thing off over text? How could you pretend it was all fine when you’d felt gutted for the entire week?

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted you, oh so unaware. You could hear the harsh wind coming through the speaker. “I’m sorry—”

You wished he’d stop apologising. If he just knew what you’d been thinking of him for the past few days, all the assumptions you had made about him and his character, his parents too.

“—but looks like I won’t make it by two.”

There was a sigh, and you let the silence usher Jungkook to keep on speaking, knowing your voice would merely betray you.

“I tried to jumpstart the car, but yeah, it didn’t work out. We called some people now and seems like we’re gonna have to have the car towed and fixed at the shop.”

The frustration bled through in Jungkook’s voice. It was obvious. He had spent all morning trying desperately to fix his mom’s car in the freezing cold, and now it had come to this.

“We called my dad. He’s on his way here because I still need to go back to my parents and take a shower. It’s gonna take some time—the drive to my parents, the shower and then the drive to your place—so I definitely won’t make it by two. But I should be at your place by three the latest though, I hope that’s fine?”

You closed your eyes, wondered just what exactly you were supposed to say. And so, for a while you didn’t as you gathered yourself.

“Cabbage? Are you there? Can you hear-”

“Y-yeah.” You chewed on your lip, took a few more seconds before speaking. “You… don’t have to come-”

“What? No, I promised you I’d drive you. Let me at least do that,” Jungkook insisted, and you hoped he’d just understand. How direct did you have to be?

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” you tried, but to no avail.

He snorted. “Cabbage, I’m driving you. No matter what. My dad’s almost here. You won’t have to wait long. I’ll probably be at your place before three actually. I shower quickly!”

You pressed your hands to your eyes until dark spots appeared, shaking your head. Why couldn’t he just understand?

A lump knotted your throat shut, your voice wavering as you began speaking, “I-I think we should just-”

“Ah, my dad’s here! I gotta go, cabbage. But please just wait, I’ll be there soon, okay? Can’t wait to see you! It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna charm their asses off, okay?”

And before you could even protest, confess to Jungkook that you couldn’t do any of this, he had hung up. You stared as your phone displayed your lockscreen before ultimately turning black, leaving you with your reflection.

You caught yourself in your mirror, realising how puffy your eyes were. It was blatantly obvious you had cried. You were a mess, in no state to meet anyone’s parents, no less Jungkook’s perfect parents. But now you couldn’t even get yourself out of this anymore, not when you had heard his excitement again. How could you disappoint him?

Just one more day. You’d do it for one more day, him and you. You’d just get today over with, that much you owed him, and then you’d sit him down to break it all off.

The dress was still oh so beautiful on you, harmonised perfectly with the white cropped cardigan you had picked out for today because it was, indeed, cold like Jungkook had said it was, and you really didn’t want to freeze. Your hair remained the same as always. You had thought about changing it, but decided in the end that at least your hair should be the way you were used to. Same with your jewellery, the same few pieces you wore every day adorning you today too. You kept the makeup minimal, and still it took you ages to get it done, hands shaky as you carefully drew on eyeliner and curled your lashes.

Looking at yourself you wondered if it was enough to fool everyone, yourself possibly even that you were perfectly fine, that you fit to Jungkook, that he and you could be something more, that your background was the same as theirs, that you were just another Narae, well-off and well-travelled.

But your doubts and worries had no time to brew, your doorbell announcing Jungkook. Shrugging on your coat and slipping into the pair of black kitten heels you had borrowed from Chaeyoung, you gave yourself one more look in the mirror. You looked beautiful, you knew that. Everything about you looked so close to perfect, and yet, you felt the opposite. Today was the last time for Jungkook and you, and just the thought made you want to cry.

You shook your head, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting any longer. It was truly cold, and you regretted your choice of shoes the moment you stepped outside, cursing yourself. The wind snaked up your legs. Maybe if you knew that this wasn’t going to be your last day together as a pretend couple, you would have run up and changed. But more than ever before, you wanted to look your best today. Because at the very least, however today might end (badly), you looked good.

Jungkook agreed, face lighting up the moment he laid his eyes on you. You tried your very best to return your smile. He looked oh so good too, wondering if he matched you on purpose. His sweater was the same deep rich red as yours, a white turtleneck layered underneath. He paired it off with some black slacks and black boots, your scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. You couldn’t look at him too long, vision beginning to swim when you did, so you focused on the ground, one step after the other.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest and pretending to have a heart attack.

“Thank you,” you said, speaking quietly, afraid your voice was going to betray you. “You too.”

Your compliment made his smile turn into a grin. “Well, you’re prettier.”

Usually, you’d make some snarky comment, fall into the same old banter you’d established with him long ago. Today, you could barely bring yourself to look at him.

“Let’s-”

Jungkook cupped your face, lifting your eyes to him, forcing you to face him. His gaze turned your insides soft and puddy, hands beginning to shake by your side.

“I’m so happy, cabbage,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips. It almost made you cry. You screwed your eyes shut. Before the kiss could go on longer, devastate you more, crush you further, you pulled away.

“I-I’ve got lipgloss on,” you mumbled, giving Jungkook a short smile before stepping aside to walk to his car. He laughed behind you, telling you how he didn’t mind at all, but still, he followed you.

Just as you were about to reach for the car door, he did it for you. Always the gentleman. You paused for a second, surprised (why were you?), before climbing inside, heart heavy as you waited for him to just close the car door. Jungkook didn’t though, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Are you sure about the shoes?” he asked you, brows furrowed together. “It’s cold. You’re not even wearing stockings.”

You felt even more self-conscious all of a sudden, tucking your feet underneath the seat, cheeks warming and heart thrumming. These shoes were the only ones that fit with your outfit. You didn’t have an extensive shoe collection, anything you could change into now wouldn’t match. It’d be a waste not to wear them, especially after you had asked Chaeyoung to borrow them.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine.”

Jungkook seemed to disagree, still standing there with the car door in his hand, and when he opened his mouth, you knew he was going to argue with you.

“I really-”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”

The frown didn’t disappear from his face, but he conceded, albeit with a sigh. His hand squeezed yours, and you flinched, pulling it away as if he burned you. Jungkook stopped, eyes shooting to yours.

Your heart dropped in your chest. Oh no.

You put on your brightest and biggest smile. “Sorry, your hand’s just super cold,” you laughed.

Jungkook blinked before smiling, “Ah, sorry.”

With that he shut the car door, and you pulled the seat belt across your body, readying your words on your tongue that you had thought of this entire time.

I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?

It was a blatant lie. Every nerve and fibre of your body was lit up, wired tightly. You couldn’t find sleep even if you laid in your bed now. The thought of having to talk to Jungkook for the entirety of the car ride, however, turned your stomach upside down.

You decided to wait for him to put on the seat belt first before saying it, needing a few more seconds to rid the knot from your throat. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he climbed inside, putting his key into the ignition, rubbing his hands together. But rather than reach for the seat belt, Jungkook fumbled with the console, turning on the heat, carefully turning the knob back and forth. Warm air started blasting from the heaters immediately, wrapping you up from every direction.

“Do you want the seat warmer too?”

He looked at you so sincerely. You crumbled almost.

“I-It’s okay.”

“Just say a word and I’ll change it, okay? Don’t want you freezing,” he said before strapping the seat belt across his chest. You turned to the window.

Your voice wavered slightly. “Uh, I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?”

“Oh, yeah, no, totally. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there. Gonna take a while anyway.”

You hummed in response, frowning when you saw Jungkook rub his hands together, blowing into them, even holding them up to the heaters for a few seconds. Before you could wonder for too long, he took your hand into his, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Warm enough?”

He said it with such a beautiful smile. It shattered you. You merely nodded before turning away, eyes closing shut, a lump stuck in your throat. The gesture, however small, dug into your heart like a knife. He was so nice, so kind, so good. And for the past week, you had thought the worst of him.

You knew you had arrived even before Jungkook parked the car. The engine slowly shut off, keys jangling when he pulled them out. You heard the click of his seat belt, some shuffling, and your heart beat faster as you waited for him to wake you up. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought this through. How were you going to convince him that you had slept this entire time when you hadn’t even for a single second? The last time you had pretended to sleep in the car was when you were seven and didn’t want to go to school. And even then, it hadn’t worked, your mother seeing right through you.

Jungkook had held your hand the entire ride. You had so gotten used to the feeling of his warmth that when he slowly pried his hand out of yours, you felt oddly cold. For a second, you thought you had to have imagined it when you heard the car door open. But when the sound of it softly closing followed, you knew you hadn’t. Maybe he wanted to come around and then wake you up?

You waited a few more seconds but when your car door remained shut, you slowly peeled your eyes open. Once again, Jungkook wasn’t there. But your attention turned to the house across the street instead. Jisoo and Chaeyoung had, of course, asked for Jungkook’s address—Just in case. He had happily sent it to them, and you too if you wanted to forward it to anyone else too. (The fact that Jisoo was over an hour's train ride away didn’t matter by the way.) You couldn’t recall the address, but you did remember the house number, and you were definitely staring at the right house right now.

It was bigger than you could have imagined it to be. It was so absurdly big, almost cartoonishly so. Even more so because it was decked out with all kinds of Christmas lights and stockings. You doubted no second the inside rivalled Chaeyoung’s and Jisoo’s home. But however ridiculous it was to you, this was Jungkook’s childhood home, the house where he grew up in. Where he spent his childhood and teenage years. This particular house. A house. Whilst you grew up in a flat, just with enough space to cram in your little family.

You saw him then, standing next to the expensive car parked in the driveway. Jungkook opened the car door to the passenger seat, and a second later, his mother stepped out. He offered her his hand, earning himself a big smile from her. From inside the car, you couldn’t hear what she said, but you could imagine it. She was right, he was a great son.

Jungkook looked a lot like his mother, you realised. She had gifted him with her kind eyes and soft big smile. No wonder, her son was so beautiful. She was an elegant woman. It was obvious. The kind of woman that wore cashmere sweaters, baked fresh bread every Sunday, made sure to do her skincare routine every morning and night, expensive creams and serums lining her bathroom cupboard. Not a single hair on her head was grey. She was the perfect wife and mother.

From the driver's seat, a man emerged, Jungkook’s dad. There was a hint of grey colouring his hair, but he pulled it off well. He was shorter than Jungkook by a bit, but you could see right away where Jungkook got his confidence from. For a moment, you wondered if that was how Jungkook would look like when he was older. Would he resemble his father? His dad quickly rounded the car, greeting his son with a hug before taking his wife’s hand into his. He had a kind smile too, you noticed. Of course, he did.

Jungkook had to have said something particularly funny because both his parents erupted into laughter. You looked away, closing your eyes.

What were you doing here?

The question blared louder than ever before. Could you really do this? Fool everyone? Yourself too? The answer was obvious to you as you looked ahead. A part of you wished you had come to that conclusion before you had gotten into the car. You didn’t know your way around this neighbourhood (of course, not), but you knew you had to get away from here either way.

You stepped out of the car, quietly shutting the door. He couldn’t see, couldn’t know. You had to get away, now.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Kook?”

His father’s voice made you pause. Jungkook sounded so much like him.

“In the car. She’s sleeping.”

“Are you not gonna wake her up? At least, let her come inside and sleep inside. It’s so cold.”

“No, I was gonna, but then I saw you and dad pull up,” Jungkook explained, his voice carried to you through the wind. His car offered you enough coverage to hide and at the same time allowed a clear view of Jungkook and his parents. “Also, I was gonna get her another pair of shoes. She’s wearing heels.”

His mother gasped. “In this weather? Does she at least have stockings on?” When he shook his head, she gasped again. “No, that’s not good. You better get her another pair of shoes. She’s gonna freeze!”

“I know- ah, I turned off the heat!” Jungkook touched his forehead as if to say how stupid of him.

You pressed your lips together, teeth sinking into your tongue. The guilt clawed up your throat, raw and red. It hurt, so much so that you didn’t even feel the cold wind on your feet and up your legs, or the way they ached from the unnatural arch the heels forced them into.

“Go get your girlfriend some shoes,” Jungkook’s father told him. “I’ll get the groceries-”

“What? No, let me, dad. I can do both. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s fine, Kook. We don’t want your girlfriend freezing.” His mother placed her hand on his shoulder. But like the good son he was, he wasn’t having it, already moving to open the trunk.

“It’s okay. I turned off the car just now, and she’s been sleeping peacefully this entire time. I’ll be quick,” Jungkook insisted. “You guys get inside.”

His parents looked at him with a sigh, realising defeat. Jungkook’s father handed him the car keys.

“Well, you better be quick. You know we can’t wait to meet Y/N.”

And with that, they walked inside, hand in hand. Your heart shattered, your name rolling so easily off their lips. It was so odd to hear them say it, hear with how much kindness they did.

You should just go now, take this opportunity to run, but your feet remained cemented, your eyes following Jungkook as he brought the first two bags up to the front door before grabbing the last two out of the car. Moving his foot underneath the sensor, the trunk closed automatically. You knew nothing about cars but you knew that such a feature didn’t come with most, and was definitely not cheap either.

Right now, looking ahead of you, you could see for the first time clearly just how different Jungkook and you were. There were two different worlds between you, a distance that no one could cross, no less a relationship that wasn’t genuine to begin with. It had been nice and fun, foolishly nice and fun, to pretend all this time, but in the end it had been foolish more than anything.

Why you didn’t move still remained a mystery to you. Maybe your feet had really frozen to the sidewalk, the heels one of your worst ideas yet, or maybe you simply couldn’t do it, bring it over your heart to just walk away. Maybe you just needed a little more, of him and you. You knew these few seconds would be the last ones of peace before it would all crumble. The illusion would shatter. He and you would be done, forever. There would be no more hangouts together with all your friends, no more cookies and Avatar marathons, no more kisses and hugs.

Jungkook and you would dissolve, just as quickly as it had all begun in that library with a notebook and pen.

Jungkook was about to turn around and close the door and he’d see you, standing there on the sidewalk with your eyes set straight on him. He’d see you and he’d smile and put down the bags and walk over to you and ask you why you were standing there and why did you get out of the car and how cold it was. How stupid and silly of you!

He’d come over and bring you into a hug and his lips would ghost over the crown of your head and you’d cave and melt and you’d go in and meet his family and it’d hurt so much to tell Jungkook’s parents what your parents did when they’d inevitably ask you because of course they would and you’d have to see as they realised that your parents didn’t get to enjoy higher education. They’d be silent for a few seconds before nodding and smiling. They’d quickly change the topic because it was better to talk about something else and oh I heard something so interesting on the news recently, did you hear?

But you didn’t move, even as Jungkook turned, arms heavy with grocery bags, and lifted his head, eyes meeting yours as you predicted he would. His lips lifted up into a smile, a smile bigger than you’d expected. He didn’t move though. Instead he blurred into a heap of colours.

You could no longer do this.

The image of him cleared as the first tears fell, and you watched as his face crumbled while he watched your chest heave up and down, sobs pushing out from your throat.

Jungkook let go of the grocery bags, the contents spilling out. When he took his step towards you, you did too, away from him. He stilled, frozen. Why, you could see it on his face. Why were you crying? Why were you moving away from him? He deserved answers, an explanation, but the most you could muster up right now was the shake of your head.

No.

And then you took off.

“Y/N!”

You pressed your hand to your lips, scared of filling the street with your gut wrenching sobs. Tears kept streaming down your face, hot and heavy.

You did feel sorry for doing this to Jungkook. But you had to. Because he wasn’t going to. It had to be you. You who finally saw the truth in the eye that this was ridiculous, that this had gone off the rails, that Jungkook and you should have never gotten to this point, to where you found comfort in his arms and he knew your favourite cookies and you showed him your home and he knew more than he should about you. To the point where you had shared the bed together and knew the softness of the other’s lips. To the point where you had irrevocably and undeniably and unfortunately fallen for Jungkook.

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook, and it was the worst thing you could have done to yourself-

“Y/N!”

And it was affirmed when he seized your elbow and turned you around. You didn’t make it very far. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see it in them. How this was going to end. How this had to end, now.

You were reminded of when you ran out on Jaehwa after seeing him for the first time again. It was what you always did, you realised. Run.

You just never expected you’d have to run out on Jungkook too.

His eyes, wide and big, searched your face, for something to give him a clue as to what was going on in the head of yours, anything. He didn’t understand.

You pulled away from him as if his touch burned you, pushed him away.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, frantic, reaching out for you again, but you couldn’t let him touch you, tumbling backwards. Hurt flashed across his features, but this was for the best. Why did you have to be this dramatic? How stupid of you!

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, shaking your head, dragging your coat sleeve frantically on your cheeks. “I-I just can’t.”

Jungkook stared at you, face twisting and morphing into emotions you couldn’t decipher. You had never really understood him anyway.

“O-okay, hey, that’s fine.”

Who would have thought this would hurt so much to hear?

“That’s alright.”

He should be furious, absolutely and utterly mad with you. You had just run away. If he hadn’t caught you, he would have had to somehow explain to his parents why his so-called perfect girlfriend was suddenly gone. And yet, he met you with empathy and kindness. Jungkook was so good, so precious. He was so much better than you, deserved more.

“I’ll give you a ride home-”

“No!” you screamed, lungs heaving for air, chest rising and falling dramatically. You shook your head, repeated it again, quieter this time. “No, you don’t understand.”

Jungkook stared at you, mouth opening and closing. “Okay, then explain. But let’s do this in the car-”

“Why are you like this?” You threw the question at his head, venomous and bitter. The anger wasn’t fair, shouldn’t be aimed at him at all. What had he done to deserve it? And yet, you couldn’t find it in you to shift the target. “What are we doing?”

His brows knitted together, the knit deepening. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” You looked at him as if he should. “Can we get to the car first, cabbage-”

You flinched. How could he still call you that?

“This is so stupid,” you scoffed, shaking your head, eyes looking at everything but him. The cold wind blew your tears away, and your cheeks felt raw from all of the rubbing and dragging. “I- this is so wrong on so many levels. Why am I even here? What are we even doing? Why are you like this?”

“You don’t want to meet my parents, that’s fine. I really think we should get to the car-”

“Why? Because you don’t want your neighbours and parents to see what crazy person you’ve brought home?”

“What? No! Who said that? I wanna get to the car because it’s freezing cold and you only have a coat and heels on-”

“Oh, please, Jeon!” The laugh slipping from your lips made Jungkook flinch. It was so mean, filled with so much spite. “Don’t pretend to be good. What a cheap and pathetic act!”

None of the words you spoke were truthful. You didn’t know where you pulled them from, you didn’t believe any of them. All of them were hollow and mean. But maybe they’d be enough though to bring out anger within Jungkook, make him come to the same realisation as you had—that he and you had to end. But knowing him, he’d meet you with empathy and kindness over and over again.

He had to hate you.

You had to make him hate you. Otherwise, this would never find an end. Otherwise, he’d convince you of the opposite, and you’d never be able to let go of him. Otherwise, you’d lose yourself completely to him.

And when you looked at Jungkook, you knew you were right. Because there was no no fire in his eyes, nothing. He still stared at you the same way he used to. Even after you had called him names. Hating you was the only option.

“I really think we should just talk this out another time.”

Defeat, you realised, contorted his features. Not anger. Not spite. None of it. Just defeat. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“You’re clearly not in the best of moods and saying stuff that you don’t mean. I don't know what’s going on, but let me just give you a ride home and we’ll figure this out another-”

“Figure out what?” You leaned forward, gestured wildly around yourself. “We? Oh, please, Jeon, there’s no fucking ‘we’. Don’t make me laugh!”

He shook his head, hands running through his hair.

“I really don’t think you mean any of this, Y/N. I know this entire situation must be bringing up bad memories for you- I know Jaehwa hurt you-”

“What? This has nothing to do with him,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes, the words pushing through your clenched teeth like a bullet out of a gun. “What do you know, Jeon? What do you really know, huh? Actually, how can you know anything? You with your perfect stupid fucking family with a house oh so big because you just had to show everybody how you were better and richer and greater. What do you know about anything, really?”

You weren’t making sense, but you could see a change in Jungkook’s face, the flicker in his eyes as you mentioned his family. Bullseye.

“Miss me with that bullshit. You’re the kind of people I hate. It’s all so fake and condescending- fuck, you’re so stupidly loaded you’re paying me to pretend to date you so you can win a stupid shitty bet with Taehyung. Your parents must be so proud of their great great son.”

He closed his eyes, screwed them so tightly shut in hopes that maybe if he did so long enough, this would turn out to be a bad dream. This wasn’t happening. Things weren’t falling apart like that. They couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.

“Now you can’t even look at me, Jeon?” you sneered, voice and words growing more and more vicious. “Can’t face the truth, right? You pretend to be so good, so kind. But for fuck’s sake, look at the house you grew up in! Look at where I live! You’re the same as Jaehwa- actually, no because at the very least, he didn’t pretend like he and I weren’t different. You should have some shame, but I guess with parents-”

“Y/N!”

Your name cut through the air, and for once, you stopped and breathed. Jungkook had peeled his eyes open again, teeth gritted, jaw pulled taunt, hands curled into tight fists.

“I really think it’d be better if you stopped talking now.”

And yet, it wasn’t the response you wanted.

You could have cried then, bawled, fallen to your knees and just admitted to it all. How much you did love him and how much you wanted him, but couldn’t have him because this just wasn’t going to work because he never really did love you and neither would his parents. He and you were doomed, like the moon and the sun. He just would never see it, too idealistic for his own good. Your blatant and devastating flaws. You weren’t good or kind. You had to be the one to pull the plug, to call this what it was—wrong.

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that,” you mumbled, the tip of your shoes digging into the concrete, rolling back and forth. The scratching sound it produced soothed you oddly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. You rich people just can’t ever face the truth-”

“No, you idiot!”

His voice echoed through the empty street, loud and clear. Anger and disdain coloured his words, features twisting and knits deepening. There it was, finally. The anger and upset you had waited and waited for, the blow of the bomb, the finale.

“I think you should stop talking because I love you and I don’t want my heart broken any further!”

Jungkook was so loud. You had never heard him so loud before, yell like that, tell you so abundantly clear that he loved you. It was the declaration of declarations, blaring and grand. You had wanted to hear it, needed to hear it all this time, all this week—that he loved you—and now when you finally did, it was truly the worst thing anyone had ever told you ever. Because it was everything you wished for, but you couldn’t have it, none of it. It wasn’t real, and even if it was, even if he meant it and he loved you, you couldn’t be with him. The truth didn’t matter. You were too damaged, too broken, too fucked up to never not doubt Jungkook, not to fear that he’d leave at any point.

You’d never trust him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you!” He pointed at you, face scrunched and eyes red, tears welling. “I thought we had gotten past this- isn’t it obvious that I do really love-”

“Oh, please. You goddamn liar!” Your voice shook, broke in your throat and mouth, head spinning. You were losing Jungkook, spectacularly so. “What do you know about love? This is an act, Jeon! You’re not in love with me! You’re in love with an act! You’re in love with the idea of winning your stupid bet with-”

“No, no-”

“Yes, Jeon, you don’t know shit. You pretend like you do- think you do when in reality, you don’t know anything about me. Who am I if not just a pawn in your game? Someone you paid, so you could boast and brag that you didn’t get rejected, huh?”

Jungkook licked his lips, veins bulging in his neck as he tried his very best to not go too far, implode on you, hands digging into the roots of his hair. “No, that’s not true. The bet between Tae and me—”

“Actually, you know what? I don’t even care. Because all of it is wrong. It’s not what we agreed upon-”

“Okay, yeah, so we weren’t supposed to kiss and spend time together privately, or sleep with each other and talk on the phone for hours. But look at us now!” He pointed between him and you, as if there was something between you. “We did it all, okay? And? Was it so bad?”

His eyes fixed yours, so deeply. He took a step towards you, and you didn’t back away, couldn’t.

“You call me a liar when I tell you I love you—” His voice shook, trembled terribly, and you could see Jungkook fight to find the right words, struggle to speak. It pained you to know it was all because of you. How easy would it be to take it all back? Admit fault and go back? But would it be right? “—but tell me then, why are you looking at me like that?”

You tried a laugh. A laugh that was meant to dismiss it all, deny the truth, but it sounded hollow and wrong. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, beginning to crumble. And Jungkook saw right through you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something!”

You closed your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. The world began to spin faster and faster, and you felt like you were losing the ground underneath yourself.

“You’re not being fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. You were speaking much quieter now, your voice having lost all of its bite and edge. This had been harder than you expected. “You’re breaking the contract-”

“Oh my God, will you forget about that? Both of us broke it a long time ago, willingly! Can you please just forget about all of it—the contract, the bet—and look at the facts?”

Jungkook was begging at this point. Would you come to your senses?

“Do you really genuinely think that the past weeks- months didn’t mean anything to me? That it was really all just pretend? That I lied about all of it? That I’m really such a big asshole that I’d pretend to be in love with you this entire time, call you daily, buy you your favourite cookies, hold your hand and kiss you and tell you—” This seemed to drain Jungkook of everything, voice trembling as he presented the worst version of himself to you. “—over and over again that I love you?”

He leaned forward, searched for your eyes.

It was right in front of you—a white flag up in the air, for you to grab and hiss. You could do it now, he’d forgive you, you were certain of that. Jungkook was still kind enough to do so, his heart ready to let you back in. You wouldn’t even need to say anything, just falling into his arms would suffice. It’d be so easy. Simple, in fact. He’d let you do it, take your silent defeat as an apology. You’d never have to talk about it ever again. It was tempting, slip back into what you were before as if you weren’t aware that he and you were two parallel lines never meant to cross. Jungkook would never be tempted to take this way out, he’d stand straight for what he’d said, repent. The thought to take the easy way out would never cross his mind. It did yours.

“Y-yeah, I do.”

Jungkook shook his head, mouth set in a line.

“You don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do-”

“Y/N, no, no, you-”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Stop insisting that I don’t mean it. I do. I-”

It was so ironic. It felt like the entire universe was mocking you, laughing at the two of you. This was what Jungkook had wished for him and you, imagined how beautiful it would be, how you’d sit together in front of the window and watch before he’d suggest to go outside and you’d follow happily. You’d dance and play until neither of you could feel your hands and your cheeks were rough and raw from the cold wind. You’d yearn for the warm, shiver as you stepped inside, but you’d be happy. So very happy. But now it felt like a stab to your hearts instead.

The first few snowflakes softly landed on your sleeve. It was so beautiful. The entire street would be white in a few hours, kids would come out to play soon.

“I’ll pay you back.” You took a step back, rubbed away the tears that wanted to spill. “See it as compensation for… not meeting your parents.”

Jungkook couldn’t respond, teeth sinking into his tongue, biting on the muscle until it hurt too much.

“That’s not- that’s not the point. I don’t care for the money, I just-” He deflated. “Just-just meet them, Y/N. Give them a chance, please. You’ll realise- they’re gonna love-”

He stopped when you shrunk in on yourself, vehemently shaking your head. Neither of you said anything, just allowing the snow to fall around you and cover you in white. You’d be shivering in just a few minutes, hair and skin wet, feet shaky on the cold ground.

Jungkook looked down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped.

“Okay.”

You stood there as you waited for him to turn his back to you and walk away, waited and waited to be finally alone. He’d do it and you’d be alone and you’d be proven right, vindicated. Relief would flood you, knowing you had seen it coming, had always known correctly, protected you, at least, this time of hurt and-

The keys looked cold to the touch.

“Take them. Wait in the car. Call Chae or whoever to come pick you up. You can leave the keys in the car. I’ll get them later.”

Jungkook was ordering you, telling you what to do. And though he spoke with finality, allowing no room for you to disagree, his voice trembled and shook. You didn’t have to look to know the tears staining his cheeks, to know how much you had hurt him, realise that in your quest to do the best for both him and you because he deserved better and not be hurt and left in the end, you had done just that to Jungkook, plunged the knife into his heart and pushed it further even as he spat out blood.

“It’s fine, I can-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed the keys into your palm, forcing your fingers shut around them with his own. His touch sent sparks through your body. It’d be the last time he’d ever touch you, you realised, and before you could stop it, the tears spilt. But you didn’t let out a noise, kept your head low and eyes even lower.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Jungkook hesitated before letting go, his feet dragging as he walked away.

Maybe it was you holding the gun, not Jungkook.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook implied smut #bts x reader

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staytheword · 1 year

Text

on my mind

on my mind — one shot request by anon [ masterlist ]

• han jisung x female reader.

• non idol au. roommates to lovers. mutual pining. drinking, mention of weed consumption, explicit language, explicit smut.

• smut warnings (spoilers ahead) — porn watching. handjob. oral sex (m receiving). thigh riding. fingering. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex.

• word count: 8.6k

You and Jisung are stressed over your upcoming exams. You need to clear your heads, but you can't find anything that works. That is, until Jisung suggests watching porn together.

• the prompt was friends "using" each other to take the stress out... I hope this will fill your expectations!! ♡

You slam your book closed, an annoyed sigh escaping your lips.

You can’t do this anymore.

You’ve been studying for hours. In fact, you’ve been studying for weeks preparing for those exams. Your eyes are about to melt, your body aching to move from your chair, your brain desperately seeking distraction. You’re sick of this. Sick of stressing yourself out, sick of only allowing yourself to think about what is in these books. The exams are still several days away and you’ll have time to fall back into your anxiety - for now, you deserve a break and you are going to take it.

Or you’re going to try.

It’s not the first time you tell yourself that - take a break, you deserve it. You close your books and computer, full of resolve, and escape the confines of your room. Each time you end up just pacing the apartment, unable to focus on the movie you’ve put on or the game you’ve started. Once you made it outside for a walk, but you had no idea where to go and ended up walking in circles. Your brain is so preoccupied with your exams you can’t do much else. You wake up and it’s all you think about - and before you know it you collapse on the bed, exhausted.

As you hear someone knock on your door, you blink and realize you’ve been phasing out. You shake your head, slide a hand through your hair - it has gotten too long in the past few weeks - and clear your throat.

“Come in,” you say, your voice a little rusty.

Jisung pokes his head in from behind the door. “Hey. You hungry?”

At least you are not alone. Jisung is going through the same thing as you, so you promised each other to do what is necessary to stay sane. Remind the other to eat, for instance, and then eat the meals together, even if it is in complete silence. You’re also very open about your stress, and you force each other to go out or clear your head. If he wasn’t here, you have no idea how you would get through this.

You hadn’t been sure about becoming Jisung’s roommate at the beginning of the year, but you didn’t regret your decision at all. Some of your friends had raised an eyebrow at you rooming up with a guy, but you trusted Jisung. You resembled each other in a few ways, but were different enough to keep the other on their toes. He was honest, hardworking, but also funny and open-minded. He bought your favorite snacks at the grocery store. He listened to you talk about your difficulties with building your thesis statements. He read your essay drafts and made useful feedback. He made fantastic homemade pizza. He was the best at impressions. He liked to braid your hair. Once he even restacked the pads when you were running low - that day you almost fell in love with him.

Almost.

You just had a stupid crush. Who wouldn’t? Jisung was not only kind and attentive, he was also incredibly handsome. Wavy dark hair that shone in the sun. A heart shaped smile that grew so big it swallowed your entire soul. Golden skin that was soft to the touch - you knew from applying a mask on him once. Wide shoulders, a lean and athletic body. You saw him do push ups in his room sometimes, or using the stationary bike you had in the living room. He wiped the sweat off his brow and gave you a smile, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song played in his headphones.

But Jisung was your friend, first and foremost. Right now, and up until your exams, he was also your ally, your lifeline. You remember, a few weeks back, when you both sat down in front of a bowl of soup and intertwined your pinkies.

We get through this together, you said.

Together, he repeated, his eyes deeply set in yours.

Now he smiled gently at you, his mouth a thin line, his eyes wide open but red and glassy from exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I can cook something, if you want.”

“That’s ok, I got you,” he smiles. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll get you when it’s ready.”

You feel something tug at your heartstrings. “Thanks, Ji.”

With the sweetest smile, he gives you a little nod and disappears, carefully closing the door behind him. You breathe out in the silence, glancing back at your books. You could study a little while Jisung gets the food ready, but you are tempted to listen to him and lie down. A few minutes with your eyes closed couldn’t hurt.

You drag your feet to your bed, which is luckily not very far, and make the mistake of going under the covers. Your sheets are soft, your comforter heavy. The dim light in your room and the muffled noises of Jisung getting busy in the kitchen are so soothing you slip away quickly.

You wake up to a hand gently stirring you - you sit up in a jolt, blinking confusingly.

“Shit, what time is it?”

It feels like it’s been seconds and years. It’s definitely darker now, and your eyes are puffy with sleep, your skin a little tingly. You recognize Jisung’s silhouette in the darkness as he chuckles.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” he whispers. “But you need to eat. Then you can go back to sleep, yeah?”

“R-right. Yeah. Okay.”

You throw open the covers and get out of bed, not even thinking about the fact that your hair must be a complete mess and your cheeks puffy with sleep. Jisung has seen you in worse states, anyway. You grab a hoodie as you follow him out of your room, one of your socks half slipped out from your foot.

“It smells really good, Ji,” you comment as you head to the kitchen.

He turns his head back to you with a smile. He’s wearing a red crewneck, gray sweatpants, and his slippers. You haven’t seen him out of such outfits recently, except for a few nights when he got dressed to go somewhere, but even then his style is always baggy. It’s for this reason you will never forget the one time he got dressed up for a date and wore a tighter shirt. That and the number of times you’ve seen him shirtless, of course. But that’s a whole other issue.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says, gesturing to you to sit down at the kitchen island.

There is an actual table in the dining area, more than large enough for the both of you, but you rarely sit down there to eat. It usually serves as a storage area for random things like folded laundry, groceries, board games or books. Both of you prefer the kitchen island, perching atop the stools that you can twirl to your liking. Half the time you eat there, the other in the living room in front of the television.

Catching the sight of your hair in the kitchen window, you pull your hoodie on the top of your head and look down at the plate Jisung places in front of you. It is nothing fancy - pasta with creamy sauce, with chopped green onions sitting on top of it, but it smells absolutely delicious and makes your stomach growl.

“I think I’m drooling,” you state, glancing up at him. “I am so hungry, fuck.”

Jisung laughs, sitting down next to you with his own plate. “Parmesan?”

“Yes, please.”

He sprinkles some on your plate, and then on his, before you both start to eat in silence. There’s music playing on the speaker, a song you don’t recognize, and you ask Jisung about it. He tells you about this new band he’s discovered, and you quietly talk as you devour your plates. The sauce, smooth and peppery, is making your taste buds dance, and the food gives you a lot of energy. As you eat, the conversation gets more lively, and you suggest making coffee for dessert. Jisung agrees, and after you insist on doing the dishes first, he says he’ll wait for you in the living room. You hear the familiar song of a game he likes to play and get started on the dishes. As you put down the clean dishes in the drying rack, you sigh.

A nap. Homemade food. Jisung’s smile. All of these things reassure you, and make you feel peaceful - so why is there such a tight knot at the bottom of your stomach? Why can’t it go away, even for just a few hours?

You should study again after this.

Drink your coffee with your nose in your books.

You’re wasting valuable time.

You shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath as you dry your hands.

When you sit down on the couch next to Jisung, near the edge of the cushion, not getting too comfortable, you put down his mug of coffee on the table and keep yours in your hands. He shoots you a quick glance.

“Thanks.”

You just smile back, a feeble attempt for one, but Jisung catches it. He glances back one more time, frowns. You wish you weren’t that easy to read. You wish you could take a deep breath and smile and he would believe it when you said you were fine. But you’ve never been very good at that.

Still, Jisung says nothing. He pauses his game, turns the spoon in his coffee mug to mix in the milk. You just stare at yours, the black coffee almost staring back.

“I should…” You hesitate for a second, then shake your head. “Yeah, I should get back to it.”

You stand up quickly, hoping to be able to run away before Jisung says anything, but you feel his fingers close around your hand. You look down at him in surprise. He looks at you with wide eyes, looking confused and maybe even slightly annoyed.

“Right now?” he says. “I thought you’d get some rest.”

“I did,” you shrug, nibbling on your lower lip. “There’s too much to do, and…”

“Y/N,” he stops you, shaking his head. “You need to take a break. We need to take a break.”

You part your lips to retaliate, but Jisung removes his hand from yours and pats the couch.

“Sit down, please.”

His voice is low, a little rusty. You swallow, your mouth dry. If only your chest didn’t feel so empty, your heart would be pounding in your chest.

“I know you’re anxious,” he tells you softly, playing nervously with his fingers. “I am, too. But aren’t you getting tired of, like… just stressing out?”

You chuckle a little bitterly, looking at Jisung. The light of the television reflects on his skin, mixed with the orange glow of the lamp. The circles under his eyes are dark. His lips are chapped. His nose is still a little red from the cold he had last week. You feel a pang of longing.

“Of course I am,” you sigh. “But we just have to get through it, right? We just need to make it there.”

He nods. “I know, but I’m scared of what we’re losing in the process. It can’t be healthy to just study all the time like we do.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

He shrugs, leaning back into the couch. His hoodie skirts up his stomach a little as he stretches his arms. You catch a glimpse of skin, of an abdominal muscle. It almost makes your brain glitch.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. “A distraction? Just for one night.”

When he sees your hesitation, Jisung quickly continues.

“I don’t mean dressing up and going outside and being social. Just the two of us, I mean. We can watch a movie, play games… get high.”

That makes you smile. “We don’t have any more weed since the cookie disaster.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he laughs. “But it doesn’t matter. We just need to clear our heads, y’know? Think about something else. Be in denial about the exams. Like they’re not even going to happen.”

You take a deep breath, still hesitant. Your heart desperately wants to say yes, but your brain is holding back. The voice in your head, telling you you shouldn’t. You don’t want it to whisper your guilt back to you all night.

“Please, Y/N,” Jisung suddenly adds. There’s something in his voice that catches your attention. Sadness. Despair. “I don’t want to do it without you. We said we’d go through this together, right?”

You shake your head, staring down at the pinkie finger he is now holding up between you. He’s playing with your heartstrings and he knows it, but you don’t blame him. It’s working too well. There’s not much you would refuse him, anyway - but you don’t tell him that. Instead you smile and wrap your pinkie around his.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Let’s be in denial together.”

Jisung grins and you laugh, hitting his arm.

“It’s not fair that you used the wounded puppy eyes, by the way.”

“I would never,” Jisung says, shaking his head.

You take a careful sip of coffee, which is still a little too hot, but the warmth feels nice in your throat. Jisung grabs the second controller and presents it to you.

“You want to join?”

Although you are not very good at this game you agree, because you figure it will be a good way to start off the evening. As you pound on the buttons and try not to get Jisung killed in the game, you feel your shoulders relax. It doesn’t make the knot go away, but you do get a little giddy at the idea of not returning to your books tonight. That - and the perspective of spending the next hours with Jisung makes you a little more happy than it should. You already spend a lot of time together, so why would this evening be different? But it still feels like it.

Once the coffees are empty and the campaign is over, you and Jisung settle on a movie you both wanted to see for a while. You settle on opposite sides of the couch as you usually do, but you end up stretching your legs so much your feet rest against Jisung’s legs, and he doesn’t complain. He even puts a warm hand on your ankle at some point, distracting you a little from the movie.

The movie ends too quickly, and you end up in the kitchen cleaning the mugs and staring at each other.

“What now?” you chuckle. “It’s still early. Unless you want to go to bed…”

“No way,” he replies. “I want to make this last as much as possible.”

He is looking at you as he says that, his hair sticking out behind his head because of the way he was slumped on the couch for the duration of the movie, and your heartbeat accelerates. You feel a hotness on the back of your neck and you rub it with your hand.

“Then maybe we can… Take a walk? It’s not raining or anything.”

“Snack run? Then we can find something else to watch.”

“Sounds good.”

You don’t bother getting changed because it’s dark outside and the grocery store is just around the corner. Besides, you live in a neighborhood that is mostly composed of other students, so two people in sweatpants and hoodies isn’t uncommon at all. After getting plenty of snacks, you head back towards your shared apartment, talking in calm voices. The streets are not too busy, and it’s only slightly chilly. You glance up at the sky, walking slowly, your hand brushing Jisung’s.

At one point, you realize you are only talking about school and your exams, so Jisung shakes his head.

“We are so bad at this whole ‘think about something else’ thing,” he laughs.

You sigh. “We really are. God, this is hard.”

“We need to find a really good distraction. Something that would really, really disconnect our brains, like…”

He stops and you look at him with a frown. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” he answers a little too quickly. “We have to find something, is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper, glancing back at him curiously.

You could swear he is blushing.

“How about drinking?” he offers. “Not too much so we don’t get headaches, but a little. Being tipsy can maybe help us get inspiration.”

“I like the idea,” you smile.

Once you are back inside your apartment, your sneakers exchanged for slippers, you grab a bottle of soju from the fridge and fill two glasses. You and Jisung sit on the floor, backs leaning against the couch, and clink your glasses together. Jisung chooses a random movie on Netflix, and you watch it for a few minutes, unable to concentrate on it. After you’ve taken a few sips, you let out a sigh.

“You know what would be easier? If we weren’t single.”

Jisung arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, we could just call them,” you explain. “Get laid. Get a massage. Make out for hours. That would be really good distraction.”

“It would,” Jisung laughs. “Don’t you have someone you could call?”

“Like a fuck buddy?” you say. “Jisung, you seem to forget how excruciatingly single and bad at flirting I am.”

“You can’t be worse than me,” he smiles, taking another sip from his glass. “Last time I tried to get laid I got stood up.”

“She was a bitch,” you point out.

Jisung shakes his head. “I thought personality doesn’t matter when it comes to hooking up.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“Like you’re such a pro at this, huh?”

You gasp at Jisung’s jab, shoving him with your elbow. “That was so mean!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, holding his palms up. “I mean, if a massage would do it for you, I can try.”

You scrunch your nose. “Nah, thank you. I’m actually not much of a massage person.”

“How can you not be a massage person?!”

You keep talking and laughing, watching the movie sometimes, and for a while, you think that you’ve actually succeeded at clearing your heads. You feel lighter, distracted. The alcohol and Jisung’s laugh help a lot. But eventually you breathe out and realize that the knot is still there. Insistent. It almost feels like it’s getting bigger. Beside you, you can feel that Jisung is the same. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes, while fixated on the screen, are not seeing anything. You’re a little tipsy so you grab the controller and press pause.

“Ji, this isn’t working.”

He turns towards you, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry…”

“We need something more drastic.”

He gives you a little nod, and you squint.

“What was the idea you had earlier?”

His head shoots up and you can see panic in his eyes. “What? What idea?”

“Don’t lie to me,” you tell him. “I know your idea face. You thought of something back there, when we were walking back.”

And there it is - Jisung blushes again, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh. Oh, no. It wasn’t… It’s stupid. It’s not - I just mean it’s… No.”

You turn your body completely towards his, drawing your knees against your chest. “Ji, come on. Tell me. I’m not going to judge.”

He gives you a timid look, and empties his soju glass before he clears his throat. You do not know why, but your heart is pounding in your chest.

Jisung breathes deeply.

“I was just thinking, that when I need a distraction, like… When I really want to think about something else, I…”

“Yes?” you encourage him.

“I jerk off.”

You stare back at him in shock. You should’ve expected this. You were an idiot not to catch it earlier on. It was a logical answer - and something you’ve tried yourself numerous times in the past couple of days. Slipping your fingers in your underwear, stimulating yourself. Watching porn. But when you did succeed at your orgasms, they always felt underwhelming. They never left you feeling appeased, just even more tense.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

“I told you it was stupid! I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s not stupid,” you shrug, and it’s your turn to empty your glass.

You’re not drunk. You’re just a little tipsy. It’s not barely enough to have this kind of conversation with your roommate - one you have a huge crush on - but it will have to do. You want Jisung to feel comfortable with you. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed of, right? That’s what people always say. So why is talking about it so hard, why is your heart pounding, why is the thought of Jisung jerking off turning you on so goddamn much?

Jisung blinks at you. “It’s not?”

“Of course not,” you smile a little nervously. “I… I do it too, when I want to relax.”

He visibly gulps, but you take it as embarrassment.

“Don’t we all?” you add, a little nervously.

He nods quickly, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Your cheeks are hot, horribly hot. You need some air. You need another drink. Ten, even.

“I mean, if you want some time alone…”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jisung says. “I just, I mean, you know my friend Minho?”

You nod. “Yeah, why?”

“He told me about one time, he and his friend, I mean they were dating so it’s not the same, but they - hm, they… They watched porn together.”

It feels like you can barely breathe. Did it suddenly get very warm in your living room? Because your skin feels like it’s on fire and neither you or Jisung can look at each other directly.

“People really do that?” you say in a weak voice.

“Apparently,” Jisung chuckles nervously. “He said it was really fun, so… Yeah, I don’t know why I thought about that.”

There’s a short silence as you try to make sense of what Jisung is telling you. Is he just telling an anecdote, or is he asking for something? If you agree, will he think you’re crazy or weird? Maybe he’s just sharing. You decide there’s not much to lose. If you are misunderstanding, you can just laugh and pretend you’re joking.

Your voice is gentle, not very assumed. “You… you want us to watch porn together?”

Jisung shoots you a very panicked look and for a second you think you’ve just made a huge fool of yourself. But he opens his mouth and stammers out a yes.

“C-could be fun, I guess?” he adds.

You breathe out, your heart beating so fast you are sure Jisung can hear it. Surely, he can hear it. How terrified you are terrified at the prospect of watching porn with him. How much you never would’ve thought this could happen. How much you want to do it now.

“We really don’t have to, it’s just a stupid idea, and -”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Jisung looks at you. “R-really?”

“Sure, why not,” you say more decisively, giving him a tight nod. “We can comment on it and everything. Could be fun. I mean, it’s just porn, right? We watch it all the time.”

You realize your mistake too late, your smile faltering on your lips.

“I - I mean, I do, not all the time, but sometimes, like all people do, and…”

“You heard me that time, didn't you?” Jisung sighs, slamming his palm against his forehead.

You can’t hold back a smile this time - a genuine one. Jisung groans as you bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter.

“Just say it,” he sighs.

“I heard you that time.”

Jisung’s head drops forward in his hands and you chuckle, your shoulders shaking.

“It’s okay, Ji, it’s not -”

“The ONE time!” he cries out, looking up at you. You love the smile on his face, both embarrassed and amused, horrified and shy. “The one time I forget to plug in my headphones… I realized too late…”

“It’s fine,” you repeat, not thinking, and place a hand on his thigh to squeeze it briefly. “It’s just porn, Ji. And I know you’re into hentai, so don’t be ashamed, please. I like it too.”

Jisung looks at you like his brain is short-circuiting. “You - what - how do you know that?”

“I was in the room with you and Minho that time you talked about it, remember?” You smile. “Also, it’s the second time his name comes up in our conversation about porn, this is getting weird.”

Jisung shrugs. “Eh, the man is shameless. But you’re right, I remember now. God, that is embarrassing.”

“It isn’t,” you smile, twirling your empty glass in your hand. You don’t want to drink anymore - this is already too much adrenaline for you. “I just confessed I’m into it, too. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Not at all. I think that’s… hot.”

You smile, feeling your cheeks burn, but you do not know what to answer. Instead, you fill your lungs with air and gather your courage.

Jisung is observing his nails very carefully.

“So, shall we?” you say, trying to sound confident.

Jisung glances up at you, searching your eyes for an instant. You guess he must be looking for hesitation, or trying to figure out if you really want this or are doing it just to please him, so you just smile calmly, although you’re unable to hold back your nervousness.

“Let’s do it,” he answers with a sharp nod.

For good measure, you each pour yourself another drink, and Jisung gets his laptop to plug it so the browser is projected on the television. You wrap your arms around your legs, looking up nervously at the screen. Jisung’s fingers hover over the keyboard.

“S-so, is there a website you like?” he asks.

“Hm,” you answer, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really. You can go to the one you usually go to. If you’re okay with that.”

“Sure,” Jisung breathes.

It takes him a few more seconds but he eventually types in a website and you let out a giggle as the welcome page pops up on the screen.

“What?”

“It’s just - it’s also the one I use,” you admit, and Jisung grins.

“Really? I like this one because of the categories. They’re a little unusual but so much fun for discovering new stuff.”

“And the mobile site is so well made,” you add with enthusiasm. “Not like other websites which are impossible to navigate on your phone…”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

You laugh, relieved that this is already easier than you thought it would be. Of course, you haven’t actually put on any porn yet, but at least you are learning to speak of it more or less comfortably.

A short silence follows as Jisung scrolls up and down the page, and you glance at the thumbnails. Schoolgirls. Medieval fantasy. Monsters. After a minute, Jisung lets out a sigh.

“I guess we just have to choose one,” he says.

You bite your lip. “Type in Labyrinth in the search bar.”

Jisung looks at you, but he still does it. You point out the thumbnail you recognize, feeling almost dizzy.

“I like this one,” you say in a very soft voice. “The story’s actually really good.”

“O-okay.”

Taking a sharp breath, Jisung clicks on the link and the video opens up. He puts it on full screen, and it feels different to watch it on the television. You roll your arms around yourself, feeling terribly shy, and Jisung sits on the couch next to you - at a reasonable distance, of course. You clink your glasses together and take a sip of soju.

It’s not so bad at first. There’s an actual story to this video that you enjoy, but you know it doesn’t last that long. You are terrified of what Jisung might say, that he might laugh at you, but you try your best not to overthink everything. As the sex scenes are coming closer, you realize you have not yet exchanged a word and there is still the embarrassing issue of actually getting turned on. You really haven’t thought this through, you think to yourself as the characters start to undress each other.

Oh, God.

Kisses. Fondling. The wet sounds of the guy’s fingers slipping into the girl’s dripping folds. You breathe in slowly - but there’s a reason you love this video. It really pushes your buttons, so you can’t help but feel your walls clench around nothing. You should think about something else. You can’t focus too much on this. But you’re already getting wet and your eyes can’t leave the screen because if they do, they’ll inevitably fall on Jisung.

Your friend. Your roommate. Your crush. Who is sitting next to you, watching your favorite porn video with you. Oh, God.

On the screen, the guy buries his head in between her legs. Licks her wetness as she moans his name. The images are one thing - the sounds are another.

You’re burning up, pushing your thighs together, trying to stay discreet.

As the girl’s pleasure builds, the subtitles translate her moans for you. Wanted this for so long, your tongue feels so good buried in me. That’s when you feel Jisung move beside you. Your eyes are instinctively drawn to him, and you catch a glimpse of his parted mouth, his red cheeks, his hazy eyes.

He has his legs propped up against him. You wonder if he’s as turned on as you. Maybe not. Maybe this isn’t doing it for him.

You focus back on the screen as the girl comes, squirting around the guy’s face. He chuckles, and asks her to suck his cock. She bends down to do it, and Jisung breathes out sharply.

“The- the animation’s really good,” he says weakly, and you are quick to nod.

“Yeah, right? The movements are really smooth,” you comment.

Jisung smiles nervously. “Yeah. I - I like it.”

You want to keep talking, but you don’t know what to say. The questions that burn the tip of your tongue cannot be asked, not really, not right now. You and Jisung are friends who watch porn together. You are not involved. You are not dating. This is just a distraction.

But now you are horny as fuck and getting tense. You need to relieve the pressure between your legs or you will go crazy. You can already feel your mind buzzing.

The girl is giving the guy a sloppy blowjob. He is groaning loudly, which is something you like about this video, and she hums in pleasure.

“The voice acting isn’t that bad, right?” you say. “I like it when we can hear the guy, too.”

“You do?” Jisung asks. “I thought girls didn’t like hearing us.”

“Oh my God, it’s literally the opposite,” you chuckle. “Hearing the guys groan and moan is the hottest thing ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Ji. Be as vocal as possible, I promise it’s going to make them come quicker.” You shrug. “I mean, I can’t speak for everyone. But it would do it for me.”

Jisung nods, and you both turn back to the screen just in time for the guy plunging his cock deep inside his partner, making her gasp in pleasure. The squelching noises are turned up, and she is visibly dripping all around him, precum and juices staining the sheets of the bed.

Yes, fuck me deep, your cock is so big, oh my god!

You close your eyes, shifting your hips in a desperate attempt to rub yourself against something, but there’s nothing to do - your cunt is just throbbing, and you can feel your slick drenching your underwear. You’re so hot, you want to remove your hoodie, but you also can’t move.

You lose track of time a little when Jisung’s voice reaches your ears.

“S-sorry,” he says in a breathy voice. “I can’t help it.”

You glance at him and notice he has stretched his legs. His gray sweatpants hide absolutely nothing of his erection and you stare at the outline of his cock, hard and thick. You could moan out loud at the mere sight, but by miracle you are able to hold it in. You had noticed Jisung was, let’s say, well equipped, but you did not expect this.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, shaking your head, finally looking up at him. “I’m really wet, too.”

Jisung’s cock twitches under his pants and he closes his eyes sharply. “Fuck, don’t tell me that.”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the porn on the television, your own arousal, your repressed crush for Jisung or the sight of his stiff cock, but you’re unable to think straight and the words come out of your mouth unprovoked.

“Ji, do you… do you want some help?”

The thought that you could actually touch him makes your mouth water. You’ve thought about it before, wrapping your hands around him. Closing your lips around his length. Licking him clean. Maybe it’s not as impossible as you thought. Maybe you aren’t that foolish to think it could happen.

Jisung stammers for a few seconds because he gulps. “A-are you really asking?”

You nod faintly. “I can jerk you off.”

He stares at you, mouth open. “I mean - If - if- if you’d like it.” He seems to catch himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You don’t have to, Y/N, it’s…”

“I don’t mind,” you answer. “I - I’d like it, but only if you want to.”

“R-right. Hm, okay. But only if you’re sure…”

You just shuffle closer to him, kneeling beside his body. His smell overwhelms you, so him, his cologne and his soap, soju and candy, and your hands are shaking as you reach for his pants. You hesitate, though, realizing what you are about to do. You’re scared he doesn’t really want this, you’re scared of what it will change, but before you can start to doubt too much, Jisung slides down his sweatpants and takes his cock out himself.

“H-here.”

He holds it up for you although he wouldn’t have to. He is so hard it looks painful, veins bulging, slightly curved, pre-cum glistening at the tip. You bite your lip, pressing your legs together, and you’re sitting so close to Jisung you feel his breath in your hair.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s warm and pulsating, and Jisung lets out a whimper. You move your hand upwards and downwards, getting used to him, barely seeing the porn that is still ongoing on the screen. All you hear are moans and the wet sounds of fucking and kissing, and it helps you not think too much about what is happening, like it’s not real, like it’s part of the porn. Your fingers slide up to his tip, smearing the pre-cum over Jisung’s cock, and you jerk your hand a little faster.

Jisung lets out a choked moan and his forehead falls against the side of your head. His arm slides around your body, holding you close, the other resting on the couch, gripping the fabric.

“F-fuck, ah, ah, fuck,” he whispers in your ear, and the sound is like the sweetest music.

Is Jisung enjoying this? You giving him a handjob while watching porn? This can’t be real. This is the hottest thing you've ever done.

“Is that okay?” you ask him softly.

“F-feels p-perfect,” he grunts, bucking his hips against your hand. “Y/N…”

The sound of your name draws a shaky breath from your lips, and your other hand grabs his thigh, squeezing it a little. You try to remain steady, intoxicated by the sounds coming from the television, Jisung’s noises, his cock around your hand, him fucking your palm.

“I’m n-not going to last,” Jisung whimpers, and you slide up your other hand to cup his balls. That draws a loud grunt from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N!”

“Hold on,” you whisper, feeling drunker than if you had emptied a bottle of soju by yourself. “I want to suck you off.”

It might be your only chance. You want to make this moment last - so you have something to think about, the next time your roommate comes into your mind. The next time you dream about Jisung being yours. The next time you tell yourself there is no way he can like you back. You can at least let him go knowing he’s come once around your hands, around your lips.

“Y-you sure?”

You nod, shuffling back on the couch a little, bending forward so your lips come into contact with his cock. Jisung buries his fingers in your hair, pulling them together to keep them away from your face. You kiss his tip, your right hand still moving, your left holding his balls.

“Holy fuck, Y/N… This feels incredible… I’m not…”

“Just let go, Ji,” you whisper, perhaps a little too tenderly.

You wrap your mouth around his cock, taking him in. You glance up to see his eyes roll back. You’re pretty sure the sex scene is over on the screen, because people are talking, but neither of you are paying any attention. You bob your head, licking every inch of him, and Jisung thrusts his hips slowly, fucking your mouth gently.

“I’m gonna blow, fuck, please, ah - ah, FUCK -”

He comes quickly and suddenly, his cum filling your mouth, salty and warm. His cock keeps throbbing between your lips, and Jisung is breathing heavily, his fingers still resting in your hair, all tangled. You take the time to lick him clean, gently, carefully.

When you sit up, his hand slides down your arm to your leg, and you look at him. He’s not moving, head thrown back, his hair over his slightly sweaty face, his clothes in disarray.

This is a sight you’ll never forget.

A taste you’ll never forget.

You feel something tighten in your chest.

You’ve fallen so hard for him.

“Y/N…” he breathes after a few seconds, raising his head to look at you.

His hands reach for you, and you let him. His hand grazes your cheek, the other gripping your own. You slide your fingers in between his, feeling a little shy.

“That was unreal,” he breathes, leaning in towards you.

He doesn’t kiss you, neither does he hug you - he just presses his body against yours, pressing his lips against your hair. It’s such a tender gesture you feel your heart swell in your chest and you ache for touch. You don’t expect anything. You want to run away to touch yourself, to fuck yourself thinking of him, but you don’t want to leave his warmth.

“Come here,” he whispers. “It’s your turn.”

Your heart skips a beat. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but he’s already wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer. You end up on his lap, and instinctively you guide your legs so you straddle one of his legs, your core flush on his thigh.

The pressure, despite the layers of clothing, draws a moan from between your lips and you dig your fingers in his skin.

“Jisung…”

“Does that feel good?” he asks in a whisper.

When you nod, Jisung raises his thigh a little, applying more pressure on your cunt, and the wave of pleasure makes you arch your back and grind against him.

“Don’t hold back,” he breathes as you start to roll your hips. “Like you told me. Just let go.”

He places a hand on the small of your back, accompanying you in your movements. He breathes in your neck, warming up and tickling your skin, your cunt clenching tighter and tighter. His thigh is tense, pressing against all the right places, and you can’t stop moaning.

You push yourself up a little, pressing a hand against his chest, and you want to get rid of all those clothes, and feel him under your skin, but you can’t stop moving, and you are so close to coming.

Jisung is breathing hard against you, pushing his leg upwards, his hands massaging your waist, helping you move as you ride his thigh. “That’s it, baby…”

The nickname alone almost ends you.

He kisses your collarbone and you think you might explode. “You sound so good. I’m so fucking obsessed with you,” he says.

The words take your breath away. You shudder, your fingers squeezing his as you roll your hips a little slower. “You - what?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you. “Baby, please, can I make you cum?”

You just nod, his words echoing in your mind, unable to be truly grasped as your orgasm builds up. His hand slides down your pants and he pushes his fingers under your panties, pressing them against your wetness. You let out a moan at the direct contact, feeling your body jolt.

“You’re so wet,” Jisung groans in your ear.

You can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re already so close to your climax that when Jisung starts to circle your clit, pushing his fingers in between your folds, it only takes a few seconds for you to come undone, breathing out his name. It feels like a tidal wave, like a power surge, like everything you have dreamed of. You feel him smile, his fingers teasing you until you have to grab his wrist and pull them away.

“S-sensitive,” you chuckle, unable to open your eyes, feeling drained.

He nods with a soft laugh. You can feel against your leg that he’s hard again, but he doesn’t do anything. He just looks at you as you try to steady your breathing, your legs trembling. You don’t want to move - he is so warm next to you. But eventually, you realize the position you are in, and so you slide off him. Jisung helps you, his hands guiding you back on the couch beside him.

You feel breathless, like you’ve just ran a marathon. Once your eyes are able to focus, you stare at the screen without really seeing it. You try to grasp what has just happened. You wonder what’s next. You are afraid.

“Y/N…”

Jisung’s voice reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. What now? Can you stay roommates? Can you even stay friends? Your heartbeat accelerates and you sit up on the couch, suddenly feeling antsy.

“I - I should… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Y/N, wait -”

You know it’s unfair, but you ignore him and quickly walk away. You close the bathroom door, breathing out. And then the oddest thing happens.

You smile.

You giggle in surprise, putting your fingers to your lips. Fuck, you can’t stop smiling. You should be nervous, you should be terrified. But none of those feelings are lasting - you are only smiling like an idiot. Jisung’s words resonate in your head. I’m so fucking obsessed with you.

Sometimes things need to change. Sometimes they should. Sometimes they are meant to.

When you open the bathroom door again, Jisung is waiting for you on the other side. His big eyes are filled with worry, pleading, and fear.

“Y/N, please, listen -”

You don’t think. You just kiss him.

Jisung does not move at first, and when you take a step back, your cheeks burning up, he stares at you with shock.

“What are you -”

“I like you,” you blutter out. “I like you a lot.”

It takes another second, but Jisung’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes do not leave yours, but the light in them changes. Soon his heart-shaped grin makes your heart swell in your chest, and he’s picking you up in his arms and kissing you again.

You push him gently against the wall. “Please touch me again.”

You guide his hands on your waist, and he breathes hard in your mouth.

“I like you so much,” Jisung says, and his lips brush against your ear, making you breathe out. “I have such a massive crush on you. Never let myself act on it… I was too scared, you know.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “Me too.”

“I like everything about you,” he whispers. “Your laugh. Your passion. Your smell. Your skin… Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are. How fucking sexy.”

You part your mouth wider, and he pushes his tongue against yours, playing with it, his teeth teasing your lips. His hard cock is pressing against you, making you crave him again, and you want to feel him inside of you, so deep you can never be separated again.

“Can I take you back to my room?” he asks in between two kisses. “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

You feel yourself throbbing and you can’t hold back a moan as you nod.

It happens fast - Jisung takes your hand and guides you to his room. You’re pretty sure the porn is still playing on the television back in the living room, but who cares? You only have eyes for Jisung.

You know his room so well. The smells, the colors. The desk, the blankets, the clothes. The stickers on the window. Yet it all looks different as you step inside holding Jisung’s hand. He draws you close, bringing you back into a kiss. You collapse against him, letting him guide you to his bed.

He lifts you like you’re a feather, laying you down, his body above yours. Jisung is quick to cover your neck with kisses, his wet lips smearing saliva on your skin. He removes your hoodie, palms your breasts, who are only covered by a tank top.

“Fuck, those tits…”

You can hardly breathe, loving each of his caresses. The sheets smell so much like him it’s almost overwhelming. After removing the rest of your clothes, he spends a long time kissing and licking your breasts, playing with your nipples, drawing hisses and moans from your lips. After a while you whimper in protest, because your walls are begging for him.

“Ji, please…”

His mouth breaks into a grin, and he comes back to push his lips against yours. He kisses you surprisingly tenderly, and you moan against his mouth, because this feels so right, so true. His fingers stroke your hair, your cheek, and your hands travel down his back and then upwards, lifting his crewneck. He removes it, and you arch your back against him, your nipples pressed against his chest, his lips ardently seeking yours.

Soon he is naked too, and as he keeps kissing you, his cock teases your wetness. From his shuddered breathing, you know he can’t wait much longer, and you squeeze his arm, hoping he understands your signal. It seems like he does, because he sits up a little, leaning towards his bedside table to open a drawer. He fumbles inside of it, muttering nonsense, until he finally pulls out a condom. You giggle and Jisung laughs with you, and you feel warmer than you ever have.

Once Jisung has safely put on the condom, he guides his cock against your entrance and glances at you.

“Can I - I mean - You sure?”

“Yes,” you nod.

You wish you could look at his length disappearing inside of you, just because you’ve desired it so much, but once Jisung enters you, your head falls back on the pillow. He goes slow, leaving you time to adjust, stopping when you breathe a little more sharply. It takes a minute, but eventually he fills you up, and you wrap your arms around him, breathing out.

“Are you okay?”

You nod. “Sorry. It’s just been a while.”

“There’s no rush,” he tells you softly. “We can go slow.”

You smile, pulling him into a kiss.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes in your ear.

He starts to move, thrusting his hips carefully. Your body recovers quickly, though, and soon you can shift your hips alongside his, easing his movements. He fucks you gently and deeply, sending shivers up your spine, and you’ve certain you’ve never had sex like this. You breathe together, move together, moan together.

You take your time, your orgasm rising slowly and surely. You dig your fingers in his skin, shudder when you hear him grunt. You shift positions after some time, so that your legs can be wrapped more easily around his waist, and he’s so deep inside of you that you feel your walls throb with pleasure.

“J-just like that,” you whisper to him. “Fuck, I’m coming…”

“I can feel you,” he whimpers. “Come, baby, I’m so close too…”

You cry out in his neck, the sound slightly muffled, and Jisung follows you seconds afterwards. You feel every throb of his release. You’re still shivering as he looks down in panic.

“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t pull out…”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “There’s the condom, and I take the pill…”

He still looks worried so you kiss him, feeling at peace. You are safe, you feel safe. Jisung eventually relaxes, and after throwing away the condom, he slumps on the bed beside you, snuggling his head in the crook of your neck. His fingers brush your cheek to put a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to make you cum every day,” he says gently. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

“Hmm,” you smile. “I like that idea.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “I want to sleep next to you. See your face in the morning, the sunshine against your cheeks… Your arms wrapped around me.”

With every sentence he places a kiss, making you sleepy and perfectly awake at the same time, your mind consumed by the images he draws.

“I want to keep cooking for you. Make you smile. Drive you to the dentist…”

“Jisung, you don’t have a car,” you laugh.

“I’ll get one. And I want to get rid of those fucking doors between us.”

“Jisung.”

You open your eyes, grab his face so he looks at you in the eyes.

“Will you kiss me?”

Jisung pushes your hair away from your face and does exactly that.

Some time later, you smile.

You have not drawn the curtain yet, so the moonlight penetrates the window, illuminating the room in soft blues. You graze your nose against Jisung’s chest, listening to him breathe. He’s slowly falling asleep beside you, the covers drawn over your naked bodies.

“Hey, you know what? It worked. I haven’t thought about studying all night,” you whisper to him.

You hear him chuckle. “Hm. I don’t even know what you’re referring to. My head is completely empty.”

“So is mine,” you say with a laugh, planting a kiss on his warm skin. “I can’t even remember what day of the week this is.”

“I can only think about you,” Jisung replies, stroking your hair. “I like you a lot.”

“Me too, Ji. Me too.”

I'm so sorry for not updating as much as I used to. I hurt my shoulder pretty bad and couldn't write for a while, and now my head won't let me.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! Thank you for all of your support and love. ♡

taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @leedunno ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @alexis-reads-fics ; @luvsskz ; @beautifulcolorgarden ; @sensitiveandhungry

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tteokdoroki · 9 months

Text

✩࿐TRACK 01: RIGHT HERE. katsuki bakugou (2K)

about. leaving katsuki bakugou was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. pretending that you no longer love him every time he calls is even harder.

warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, slight angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, happy ending, break ups, mentions of harassment, exes to lovers, pro hero + fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

things to note. yay !! the first fic of the series !! idk im really excited about these and they were super fun to write. i hope you guys enjoy <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

leaving katsuki was probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do in all your years of living.

being one another’s first loves, you feel like you owe a piece of yourself to him. the relationship that you founded together leaving high school had taught you so much, about yourself, about him and about how the world worked. it was comfortable with katsuki, he knew you liked the back of his own hands — what made you smile the way he liked, what made you laughed in the way that made his stomach twist with a joyous emotion he didn’t even know he was capable of, what made you squirm and what made you pissed off, too.

and as you navigated the challenges of adulthood, grew into your lives and yourself — stretched the skin around your bones to spread your wings you realised that overtime, katsuki made you sadder than he made you happier. you made him feel angrier than he made you feel calm.

neither of you were prepared to let go, holding onto frayed ends of a love that had built up your confidence and set you on the course for the rest of your lives. but to say it ended on good terms would be a lie too. you needed an out and took the first one you saw, a friend on the other side of the country was starting an agency on their own and needed a partner. you knew it would hurt bakugou more than anything, so perhaps, that’s why you did it.

you left in the middle of the night to fulfill the dream you and the blonde had come up with together — with someone else.

of course, leaving him behind wasn’t easy and it still isn’t. cutting katsuki completely out of your life wasn’t a viable option and at least not for long, three months after your big move he came across your agency on the news following a huge rescue and shift in the hero rankings. katsuki was proud of you, he missed you, dialled up your agency to tell you himself and for some reason you found yourself clinging onto his every word not knowing that he felt the same.

you couldn’t forget about him, your golden boy and his golden smile that made heat spread through all four chambers of your heart and blood rush through your ears to the point where you were dizzy. bakugou was your day and he was your night, each of you taking turns returning from patrolling shifts that ran late for two semi-pro heroes like you — practically running into one another’s arms.

in another universe, it would still be that way for the both of you — but katsuki was bad for you, and you inevitably worse for him. even if you’d found new soil to settle your roots in, you secretly hoped that bakugou would come find you in every single timeline, every single world either of you existed in.

maybe that’s why you kept in touch despite the dates you went on to get over him. maybe that’s why emails turned to texts and texts turned to phone calls that centred around reminiscing the past — the songs that you shared and the plans that you made. together.

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” bakugou grunts absentmindedly, the gruffness of his voice evened out by the static on his end of the phone. from the corner of your eye, you watch on the screen as he slips through your old kitchen easily — knowing where everything is, knowing that he used to pin you up against those counters, knowing that he used to corner you while making coffee and...

you shake your head, popping it into view so that the blonde can see you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “he’s not my boyfriend… just a friend from work.” you still have no idea why you lie to bakugou like that, actively pretending that your dating life isn’t flourishing. you tell yourself that it has nothing to do with the fact that you still want him. even though it never works out when you lead each other back into bed whenever you get the chance. “what are you making?” you ask, to distract yourself.

“he likes you though.” katsuki returns from the fridge and steps into frame to show you the pack of tofu you know that he likes to cook with. you could have probably found it in your local convenience store with your eyes closed at this point. but you didn’t want him to know that you still remembered all of the little things about him. his likes, dislikes, hopes and dreams. “s’that tofu recipe fuyumi gave me back in high school. the one that makes ya—“

“the one that makes me shit my guts out, yeah. thanks for the reminder, bakugou.” you huff, glaring at the phone and wander into your own kitchen, subconsciously. probably to feel a little closer to your ex. “he doesn’t like me. how would you even know that?”

“hah? bakugou? what happened to katsuki?”

“don’t change the subject.”

the swell of bakugou’s lush lips press into a thin line and you can just about make out his pout as you set the phone down to make yourself a fucking drink because you really can’t do this. you hate that you still seek him out in your darkest hours, when you’re alone in this city and it feels like the world is slowly turning against you.

you’d turned off your television hours ago to avoid hearing the news. deleted the social media apps off your phone, too. called bakugou to fill the silence of your home with something soft, familiar like the deep depths of his voice. he provides a distraction that the chaos in your brain recognises, watching katsuki cook in that same old flat you rented right after going pro soothes the tensions in your body.

his tatted arm with the sleeve flexes as he skilfully wields the sharpest knife from the set you gifted him on his twenty first. his crystallised ruby eyes squint and his nose scrunches in that adorable way as he reads the cooking instructions on the tofu even though you know that bakugou knows how to prepare it off by heart.

all of these little things about katsuki make you feel at ease even though you’re worlds apart and taking your lives into different directions.

“what happened today wasn’t your fault,” his timbre voice was over the line, grasping at the straws of your attention. you hadn’t realised you’d been zoning out when katsuki snaps his fingers at you. “quit that. ‘m talkin’ to you.”

“don’t snap at me, i’m not your dog.”

katsuki looks like he’s about to make a comment, but refrains when you scowl at him over the FaceTime call. “yeah but you weren’t listening to me, i know why you called me. saw it on the fuckin’ news, but i wanted you to hear from the resident fuck up that this’ll all blow over. the media is just shit.”

even through bakugou’s brashness he still helps you lick at your wounds like you’re still his. “i hope so,” you sigh quietly and pick up your phone so that you can get a closer look at his expression, concern etched into his features. “being a pro hero decking a fan in the face doesn’t exactly instil confidence.”

“he was a creep who’s been stalkin’ you for months. he fuckin’ deserved it. if you hadn’t,—“

“dynamight would’ve, my hero.” even though your tone is sarcastic, bakugou can tell that you’re thankful, that you mean it. he never liked that you were always one to suffer quietly, let the world walk all over you as if you weren’t worth standing tall and being proud of yourself. in some ways, the blonde wanted to be your hero — not the world’s. he wanted to stick up for you where you couldn’t even if he was defending you from yourself.

you hated him for it, he loved you through it. perhaps that’s why your relationship was always falling from grace.

bakugou knows that you’re struggling to keep it all together, lock up all your troubles and throwing away the key with the hopes of never seeing them again. he knows that you carry that weight and that you’ll collapse if there isn’t someone to help you bear the burden.

so he tentatively reaches out, metaphorically crosses that line you’d drawn after ending things, because you’re in need. “yanno, if you need me, i’m right here.”

it’s like his words have snapped you back into reality, and you shoot him a look over the call. “katsuki, you shouldn’t say that.”

“why not?” he quips — you almost miss it over the sound of his food sizzling as he begins to cook.

“we’re not together anymore… we’re broken up. it’s weird.”

“it’s not weird to look out for friends.” bakugou snarls gruffly, though he’s all bite and no bark — mostly embarrassed by your rejection. “you think just ‘cause ‘m not callin’ you mine and giving you head every night anymore, i don’t wanna be here for you?” but of course he still finds a way to make the conversation go lewd, to fluster you. “i told you that wouldn’t change. broken up or not...what? what’s with that face. don’t make that face, sweetness.”

a hand comes up to mindlessly touch at your face and brush over your lips, you don’t even realise that you're pouting.

“katsuki i’m serious.” you say, whining like a child.

“and so am i.” your ex mumbles right back and you can see his tongue running over his teeth from behind his plump lips — just barely holding back a cocky smirk.

“you’ll only make this harder.”

“we’ve never been easy.”

“we’re supposed to be moving on from each other.”

“you’re the one who called me, sweetness.”

“that doesn’t mean—“

“you miss me.” bakugou has always been brutally honest but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared for him to hit you with the truth. it’s like a punch to the gut that makes the world start spinning and your heart stop beating. you do miss him, you always will — he’s all you’ve ever known even if it’s been years since you last embraced his love. what you have now has teetered on the blurred line of friendship and love, it’s far from normalcy. but tonight you feel like letting yourself fall a little harder, return to your old ways. “s’okay. i miss you too.”

static echoes between your phones during the call, breaking the pocket of silence yourself and katsuki find yourself basking in.

“you mean it?” you question the blonde tenderly. the world has been so tough on you lately, you’re not sure if you could handle bakugou breaking your heart again. or you breaking his. “you’re not just…playing with me like you used to.”

“i’m being serious, sweetness.” you can tell that he means it, genuinity etched into his voice as it reverberates through your kitchen. “i’m by your side through everythin’, thick ‘n thin just like i promised.”

“yeah well so am i.” you mock his little quip from earlier and it makes him smile — brightly, the corners of his lips just touching his ears and the red in his eyes shimmering with a familiar affection you truly have missed so much. promises were easily broken, but bakugou’s made good on every one that he’s ever made for you. including this. “katsuki…”

he tests the waters, dipping into your old routine with an air of hope about things. “yeah, baby?”

“will you come see me?” you bleat, picking up the phone as if it’ll bring you any closer to him. “i need you.”

“if you need me, i’ll be there.” bakugou whispers without missing another beat.

he doesn’t care what he has to do, what either of you have been through — you called because you needed him, because the world had put you on your knees and you were losing yourself in the mess of it all.

katsuki bakugou books the next flight out to see you, intending to keep his promise to you.

no matter what, for you, he’ll always be right here.

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puckinghischier · 20 days

Text

Boyfriend!Nico Headcanons

these pics are gonna get me everytime, i fear

just some soft nico thoughts floating around in my noggin. enjoy :)

- boyfriend!nico coming home from morning skate and tiptoeing into your room, careful not to wake you so he can lay back down and nap with you

- boyfriend!nico waking up about an hour later to an empty bed, huffing because you didn’t wake him up, only for you to walk in the room wearing one of his t-shirts carrying two cups of coffee, a grin breaking out on his face

- boyfriend!nico suggesting you both shower together, even though he showered at the rink, simply because he loves when you wash his hair (and so he can use your products so he can smell fruity like you do)

- boyfriend! nico asking girls that approach him when he’s out with the team or on the road where they get various parts of their outfits/jewelry because he can’t stop thinking about how good you’d look in them, writing every store down in his notes app so he can take you there the next time you two go shopping

- boyfriend!nico who looks for you in the stands of every home game during warm-ups, needing to know you’re there watching before puck drop because he swears you’re his good luck charm, but also looking for any and every reason to impress you when he’s on the ice

- boyfriend!nico who buys you a custom jersey with his name and number on it, but with small four leaf clovers embroidered on each sleeve so everyone knows you’re his good luck charm, not the team’s

- boyfriend!nico who enlists jack’s help in surprising you with the golden retriever puppy you’ve been begging Nico to agree to adopting, making the poor kid drive three hours one-way to pick up the dog and then sneak the puppy into your shared apartment so Nico can keep you distracted and occupied, wanting to see your face when you open the door and the little furball comes running towards you

- boyfriend!nico who rushes through every post game interview he can because all he wants to do, win or lose, is go home and watch whatever current netflix show you’ve roped him into while eating whatever take-out you were in the mood for that night

- boyfriend!nico putting you on speaker in the locker room before games because the team overheard one of the pre-game pep talks you gave him earlier in the season, so now they all like to hear your encouraging words and how well you inspire each and every one of them to play their best (what jack refers to as your mrs. cap duties)

- boyfriend!nico who has to explain to his teammates why he can’t bring you along to every event the team has to go to because you have your own job and responsibilities, only for the team to whine and grumble about how nico hogs you and they never get to see you (just for him to facetime you halfway through the event so he can pass his phone around for everyone to say hi a few of them asking you to blink three times if nico was holding you hostage)

- boyfriend!nico who arranges for flowers and various treats to be delivered to your door every. single. day. that he’s gone during the season so you know he’s still thinking about you and he misses you, even if he only leaves for a day or two

- boyfriend!nico who listens to the playlist you’ve made for him anytime he’s traveling because he loves hearing whatever new song you’ve found that day that reminds you of him

- boyfriend!nico who begs you to take a bath with him because he’s so sore from a nasty hit earlier in the night and wants to just relax with you and your peach smelling bubble bath with one of your vanilla scented candles burning (but he’ll never admit he loves your sweet, scented candles)

- boyfriend!nico who will always trade a puck or a stick for anything that a fan brings as a gift for you, heart swelling seeing that the fans love you as much as he does

- boyfriend!nico who always wears a wrist full of friendship bracelets you make for him at warmups so he can trade them with the female fans that bring handmade bracelets for the players, so “they always feel included and welcomed at the games, despite what the grumpy old men have to say about it”

#nico hischier #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils #hockey imagine #hockey

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atinystraynstay · 2 months

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Soft Spot - Min Yoongi

Synopsis: Yoongi closed himself to most of the world. He didn't want to risk anyone hurting him or the people that mean the most to him. That was until you came along, somehow having the golden key to his heart.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers

Word Count: 1.7k

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Yoongi had spent over 30 minutes at the florist. His eyes bounced between all the different flowers, unsure what would be the best one to present to you. You would think that since Yoongi produces music, he felt a constant pressure for the next song to do better than the last.

However, his biggest worry was trying to impress you.

To him, not enough words could describe you. He has attempted to write at least one song to showcase his adoration for you. Yet, nothing seemed to fit. He could easily describe you as perfection. You were the one person who balanced him out amongst the chaos. The songs he produced with you in mind just didn't do you justice.

"Hyung, you ever going to make a selection?" Taehyung teased for him.

A sharp puff of air left Yoongi. He thought asking Taehyung to help him was the best idea, but he was starting to regret it.

"Would you shut up?" Yoongi murmured.

Taehyung went into a fit of chuckles before putting his hands up in defense. Seriously, he was here to provide insight?

Of course, Yoongi had an idea of the right ways to treat someone. He has experienced short flames of love in the past. But nothing like what you two had. It admittedly scared Yoongi at the intensity of emotions he felt within himself. He didn't mean to push people away, but he just often put all those emotions toward his career before another person. BTS counted on him to produce songs, to be a strong older brother. He didn't put another put through the wringer just because of his intense career.

But then he met you.

It started off innocent at first. You two just happened to bump into each other at the convenience store. He had been locked up at the studio, trying to lay tracks down for a new song when he needed a break. He figured going for a walk and grabbing an energy drink would help relax him.

Similarly, you had been crammed in your university's library working on a research paper. You were in the last semester of your graduate program, a step closer to becoming a Social Worker. Your fingers were starting to ache and you felt a bit restless after sitting at a work table. You decided you needed fresh air and an iced coffee before going to attempt to edit the paper.

You two had bumped into each other. Fatigue was written all over your faces that you hadn't noticed each other. That was until you bumped in as you tried to go to the register.

Seeing how tired you were, but also how beautiful you looked, Yoongi offered to pay for your beverage. When you tried to politely decline, he insisted after being in your way. Even though you were the one not watching where you were going.

As a way to show appreciation, you offered to give him your number. That way, you could repay him with a drink of his choosing whenever he wanted.

Since then, you two have been attached. Text messages were exchanged which then became FaceTime calls, particularly late at night due to both of your schedules. FaceTime calls quickly grew tiresome because all Yoongi wanted was to be in the same room as you, so you two began to hang out.

While Yoongi has not officially asked you to be his exclusively, he knew he wanted to be with you. You two practically saw each other twice a week. In his mind, you two were together.

That was until Taehyung pointed out that he hasn't actually asked you to be his, that you could be under the impression you two were just friends. Yoongi was doubtful, but his younger brother had a point. What if you saw him as only a friend? What if you were actually seeing someone else?

The thoughts made Yoongi both anxious but motivated to do something about it. Cue Taehyung coming in to help. Taehyung knew how to be romantic. He offered insight without Yoongi overthinking it.

"I'm telling you. She won't really care about the exact flowers. Just that you got them for her." "But they have to be perfect for her."

It brought Taehyung amusement to see how smitten his hyung was. Actually, all the boys were invested in Yoongi's love life. For the 10 years that they've known him, this was the first time that he was choosing something for himself rather than for other people. They all adored how dedicated Yoongi was to them and the group, but they always wanted Yoongi to be happy in all aspects of life. Including romantic.

They ever knew someone could be so happy over receiving a text message. At least, that was the case until they saw him grinning in his studio as he spun gently back and forth. He would re-read your texts to him, his smile getting wider and wider.

Or the way he thinks of you had random points. Having ramen for dinner? You like ramen. He would wonder if you had eaten, if you were happy, if you had a good day. See a squirrel while on a stroll? You were so energetic, so busy. What were you up to? Should he call you?

You were always on his mind. You meant everything to him and so much more.

It was why when he stood in front of your apartment door, his heart was racing. Yoongi was convinced that his heart was going to leap right out of his chest at this rate. He was practically shaking.

He sucked in a deep breath, looking down at the bouquet of flowers. Roses felt too intense for the occasion. He had selected an arrangement of blue hydrangea, blue delphinium, and white button poms. They reminded Yoongi of a clear, warm day and you were the sun. They were tied together by a pink bow, subtle but perfect.

Here goes nothing.

With his left hand firmly holding onto the stems of the bouquet, his right hand reached forward to ring the doorbell of your unit. It was a late Sunday morning. Sundays were your day to relax, to do self-care. He hoped he wasn't introducing, but he knew you'd be home.

From the other side of the black-painted door, he could hear shuffling. His heart fluttered knowing you were indeed inside. And about to open the door.

Did he get the right bouquet? Did you even like flowers? Should have have gotten a bigger bouquet for you?

He didn't have enough time to go through every scenario as soon the door opened. There you were. His angel.

Your hair was pulled back in a high ponytail with little strands framing your face. You wore a pair of black shorts but a large, oversized sweatshirt. All he wanted to do then was wrap you up in his arms and cuddle you. God, he was down bad.

You had a warm on your face, but quickly your eyes widened to see the flowers in his hand. You couldn't but hope they were for you, but you were convinced you and Yoongi were just friends. He was too kind to you to be anything more than that.

"Hi y/n," he said softly.

His voice sent your heart into palpitations. Nobody else sent you into such a spiral unlike he did so easily. It was just him greeting you but your knees were like jelly.

"Hi Yoongs," you spoke just as softly.

Yoongs. You were the only person who called him that. And he prayed you would be the only.

"What's going on? I figured you might be asleep still since you were at the studio until late." "Nothing can stop me from seeing you. I had a very important erran to run."

He was trying his best not to become a stuttering mess. But the way you were looking at him? The way you had a soft gaze yet lured him in, he was bound to crumble.

"These are for you, beautiful. Saw them and I thought of you."

Your cheeks turned bright pink. You were at a loss for words, and Yoongi noticed. He couldn't help but feel his ego rise. Maybe all the guys were right after all? Maybe you did like him?

He only got this confidence when he had a little bit of whiskey in his system. This was different, though. He didn't have liquid courage to fuel his delusions. He was stone-cold sober to see how you reacted to him. While non-verbal, your body language says everything.

"Oh Yoongi, they are so beautiful. You didn't have to do this." You took the flowers into your own hands to admire them up close. It warmed Yoongi's heart to see the way you took in their beauty, even though they weren't as beautiful as you are. He hoped you were seeing yourself just as positively, but he was ready to remind you constantly if need be.

"And I know what you're about to say." He began. "If you feel guilty for me spoiling you, why don't you accompany me for brunch? Going on an official date would make me happier than you buying me something."

Your head had never snapped up as quickly. Did you hear him correctly? Was he asking you out on a date? There was no room for interpretation when he said the words himself, but you weren't sure if you heard him correctly.

"Wait, you are actually asking me out?" "Well yeah, y/n. Isn't it obvious I like you?"

You opened your mouth to counter his statement, still in disbelief. However, you quickly closed it. Come on, y/n. Don't hesitate. You're so close to getting what you've always wanted.

"Can you give me 20 minutes to get ready and place these in water?" You asked. "Take all the time you need, angel. I'll be downstairs in my car, making sure it's all warm for you."

Feeling bold, Yoongi leaned into to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. "I've got nowhere else I'd want to be than spending time with you." Shivers ran down your spine from his tone and the way his words practically vibrated throughout your body.

He pulled back and winked before going towards the elevator. You gently closed the door before rushing to get ready.

Dreams can come true.

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ilycosy · 4 months

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❝ DO YOU MIND ? ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x child of calliope!reader

summary — being the child of the mother of all muses, you're used to affections. boys and girls flock to you like you're a sweet, lovely thing, but they soon drop it when they realize that you're nothing like a muse. what happens if the camps precious, golden boy starts talking to you?

warnings : reader is a little toxic under their politeness, reader is also described to be feminine but there's no specific prns! luke is also kind of obsessive? he wants reader so bad.. not proofread (that's for babies /j)

aﾉn — i haven't written in a long time so bare with me, nor have i written for the pjo fandom ever (though ive been in it for a while..) this is also vv self indulgent (daughter of calliope here <3) so sorry if this isn't relatable ♡ lowercase intentional :)

being the child of the mother of muses has always been annoying— you've never had a break to just be. whether it be people chasing after you, or people who envy the attention you attract. there was always something, which you resented extremely.

if people were asked about you, they'd have only good things to say. you're beautiful, lovely, polite; but not a muse. it sometimes got annoying that it mattered so much to people, having others constantly talk about how you were never romantic.

you seemed to be uncomfortable with it at the very least, very few felt the resentment you held for love. those few could never confirm it though, having you reassure them that you're just a private person. ("there's no need for grand things, dear. i love you without such things." you'd say, through gritted teeth.) which is what might have drew luke castellan to you.

he saw through the politeness, observing you almost ever since you got claimed. he can picture when you got claimed, your embarrassed smile when an apollo girl had written a song for you. publicly performing it, you had lit up; literally. you were fifteen then— nothings changed in these past years.

luke can't remember all the times you've been confessed to, having songs, poems, even paintings done of you for your affection. but he can remember all the times he watched your facade crack; the way your smile stretched too wide to be real, your eyes dimming when you realized it was just another confession, or how you seemed to never interact with aphrodite boys anymore.

he finds it amusing mostly, how could such a pretty thing resent something people would kill for? either way, he finds himself being drawn in like you're a siren. the way your eyes darken at the mention of your mother, how you reapply gloss whenever you're nervous— he could go on really.

"are you going to eat that?" he finds himself asking you before he can stop himself, pointing at the yogurt bowl right next to your plate. he has half a mind to make sure he doesn't clam up when you look up at him, fluttering your lashes.

you gently push the bowl towards him, continuing on your morning like the best swordsman in the camp isn't talking to you. he pauses for a moment, licking his lips as he thinks of a reason to prolong this conversation.

fate seems to be on his side though— his brother, chris, being to busy talking to clarisse to even glance his way. he sits down, looking across from you as he eats the yogurt. he almost forgets that staring is rude.

"do you mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a bite out of your crossiant. somewhat annoyed by the curly haired boy, your leg bounces steadily. "do i mind what?" he asks, like he's stupid— for some reason, you can't help but let your annoyance take over.

"why are you here," you start, pointing at the empty table. void of friends, you always sit alone until somebody claims they're in love with you. "you usually sit with your brothers and annabeth."

he shrugs at your questioning, not being able to find it in himself to hold back a teasing remark. "you know where i usually sit?" he asks with a small small, but the glint in his eyes show a certain smugness that gets under your skin.

you smile back at him, stretched too far and there's a bite in your voice hidden under honeyed words. "bye castellan," you croon sweetly. "hope you find your way back to your seat!" is all you give him, a morsel of fake attention that sends him reeling.

the next day, you wake up a bit later than normal. rising from your bunk around nine means you've missed breakfast, a deep feeling of anger surges through your core in a flash before you stretch and get dressed for the day.

when you leave the hermes cabin, you're stopped by a familiar figure. tall, brown hair, and a stupid smug grin. "hey angel," luke almost sings with how pleased he sounds with himself. "i have a presant!"

he reveals a crossiant and cold coffee, the faint warmth of the once fresh crossiant eases the deep feeling in your core even more though the coffee makes you want to vomit. "i don't like coffee." you state, taking a bite of the baked good. "but thank you, castellan."

he barely has time to respond with a you're welcome or an im sorry before you're smiling, too wide for his liking, and walking away. he debates following you, trying to talk to you like he's desperate for a friend. but he decides against it, wondering how to keep a conversation going with somebody that hates being sought after.

a week passes of the same routine— luke catching you at odd moments during the day, offering you little things to keep you around for a moment longer. you find it annoying, but keep a pleasant attitude anyways, it certainly helps that he's not bad to look at.

a small rumor spreads through camp, luke castellan having a crush. it barely takes the day for people to speculate that it's you.

it almost disappoints you, not having expected the camps favorite to fall so easily— doesn't he have any other girls? you debate on telling him that you're not open for relationships right now, having been in so many already, you could very easily blame any one of your exes.

but you don't have the chance to reject him the next time you see him because he's talking already, smiling at you like you'd fall so easily. "do you wanna help plan an activity with me?" he asks, offering you a delicious smelling tea.

"why would you want me to do that?" you question him, almost allowing yourself to have a genuine lazy smile but you just force a docile confused tilt. you sip on the tea, the once tart raspberries are now sweet in the tea mixing with a hibiscus flavor.

you're too busy drinking to notice him begin talking, he's mid laugh when you tune in. "— maybe you could help with setting up the theater?" he suggests, you pretend like you know how you got into a full conversation with him by subtly trying to exit it.

"why not have the apollo counselor help?" you say sweetly, setting the tea down and turning your full attention onto him. he feels sick to his stomach at how you look at him, soft features with a sugared tone. your eyes look at him like he's below you, like he's a nuisance, and for some reason that might be his favorite part.

he searches your face for a moment, glancing at your cold eyes before he chuckles. "maybe i want to spend time with you," he smiles like a cat, curling on his face with a pride that shouldn't make you as heated as it does. "i think you want to spend time with me too, yeah?"

you almost roll your eyes at his suggestion, but unable to squeeze out of this one without being mean, you agree to help him.

it only takes a couple weeks to fix up the theater due to the lack of counselors wanting to help, so it's safe for the younger kids to have a play— after that, it's back to the apollo children to plan. you sit back on the stage floor, sipping on a water bottle as you bask in the cold dusk breeze. "do you mind?"

a voice speaks from behind you, rasping slightly. you don't even have to look to know who it is, "no, castellan." you say, because you can't think of a reason for why you would mind.

luke sits himself down next to you, his knee brushing yours as he looks down at your water with a stare that could only be described at halfway pathetic and endearing. "here," you say, handing him the bottle. "i don't need you to die of dehydration on me."

he takes it gratefully, drinking it almost empty in three big gulps that make you roll your eyes with a small scoff. "did you just scoff?" he questions, an odd excitement in his voice.

you quickly try to deny it, hands coming up to animate how you didn't scoff or anything of the sort. but he already has a grin like he's drunk of the noise, "you definitely scoffed! that was so funny," he says with a loud laugh that makes you shush him, afraid of other campers hearing.

"i don't know why you hide that." he mumbles on your hand, fighting the temptation to lick it so you release him. those thoughts subside when your pretty eyes look up at him in confusion, "your annoyance." he clarifies.

"im not annoyed," you say, a bit defensively as you pull your hand away from him. "bit rude of you to say that, castellan."

he rolls his eyes in response, one of his arms coming behind you to rest on the stage. you can feel the ghost of it barely grazing you, "you're definitely annoyed," he says matter-of-factly. "you're almost always annoyed, or angry."

you fight back a scoff, but then give up. rolling your eyes you turn to him, searching his face for how he noticed, why he's doing this— but you come up with nothing. "why do you care?" you almost snap at him, drumming your fingers on your knee.

"i don't," he says like it's obvious. "im the same way." there's a beat after he says it, a silence that seems more comfortable than awkward like it should be. admitting his anger to you felt like a breath of fresh air, because he knew you'd understand him.

you bite your bottom lip, turning to face him. "that hatred," you start, almost in disbelief that you finally have the opportunity to talk about this. "it doesn't go away huh?" the question is phrased more like a statement, barely asking for confirmation.

he nods, not speaking as he watches you. there was no need for an explanation on what the hatred was, he knew as soon as you began talking. the gift from your mother was never really a gift to you, a burden of what it means to be a demigod is all it was.

you never knew what was genuine, or what was your mothers doing. but you felt a sense of ease with the hermes boy, nothing like all your previous relationships. "do you think it's bad," you mumble, almost ashamed.

"do you think it's bad that we feel this way?"

your question is softly spoken, genuinely interested in his opinion. he feels himself almost feel guilty for you, but he can't lie. "no," he wraps an arm around your waist. gently bringing you closer. "i think we might be the only ones in the right."

he says it with such confidence, a lack of guilt or unease in his voice that it makes you smile. not a sweet one, but a prideful one. one that could reflect the pride of a god, finally validation for the deep seated resentment that almost quenches that thirst for revenge.

minutes of silence pass by, the sun fully set as you lean your head on his shoulder. inhaling the pine and deep smell of his cologne, you hum. "are the rumors 'round camp true?" you ask.

he feels a small blush creep up his neck and ears, spreading across his face as he realizes that you heard about those. he never meant for his half-brothers to over hear a private conversation (said private conversation was in the bathroom, luke washing his hands while chris talked loudly about how he could get clarisse to go on a double date if he'd just ask you out already.)

"uh," he laughs awkwardly, his fingers drumming on the soft skin of your waist. "do you mind?"

you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face, "no." is all you need to say before his wet lips are on yours. hungry and desperate for your attention, which you give him without another thought.

#cosywriting #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan fluff #castellanswrld

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gentlyweeps-world · 5 months

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The “It” Girl Finale

summary: Being a rookie in the world of Formula One comes with challenges, added on with the fact you’re a girl, American and racing for Red Bull doesn’t help. While you do have your “guard dogs” and “it girl” tendencies, it doesn’t help that you’re also trying to figure out romance.

pairing: 2021 grid x fem! driver, lando norris x fem! driver reader

warnings: sexism, alcohol consumption, toxic environments, uncomfortable situations, angst, !!sexual acts/tension!!, 16+

Previously: You close your eyes and just soak in his embrace, feeling some reassurance and feeling at home in his arms.

“What do I do Max..” You whisper into his chest, body shaking as you sob. You knew Max was the person you needed right now.

“I don’t know Y/n…I really don’t know..” He whispers back. “How about during this break you come over and visit Kelly and P?” He suggests softly.

“Sure..sure” You mumble out, mind still set on Lando.

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

It’s now Friday and you’re packing a bag to stay over at Maxs with Kelly and P for the weekend. You hum along to the sound of some random song you have playing.

You’re broken out of your daze by a knock at your apartment door. “Coming!” You shout out from your room, rushing over to the door you open it and see Lando there.

“Hey…” He mutters out awkwardly, shuffling around a bit.

“Can I come in for a second?” Lando asks awkwardly, his gaze still filled with guilt and shame.

You don’t really know what to say, but you step out of the way and invite him in. You go into your living room sitting down on the sofa in shock as Lando comes in and closes the door behind him.

“So what do you want?” You ask softly, not sure why he decided to come over after walking out on you.

Lando stays silent for a few seconds, not entirely sure how to word what he wants to say. He takes a deep breath and then speaks.

“Y/n..I want..” He trails off, not having words to finish his sentence. He stands there, staring at you with a nervous look on his face.

You look back at him and wait for him to speak again, as you notice his hands slowly clenching to a fist in his pocket.

“What..?” You ask, waiting for a response from him.

“I want..I want to be with you, I’ve liked you since I first saw you..” He mutters out, finally knowing what to say.

“I know I was an asshole, I know I made you hurt, that’s what killed me”

“But- but I want to be there for you and comfort you” Lando says, moving closer towards you now.

You sit there stunned, not sure what to say or do. Would it really be worth it? After what he said before? Even after all of his insults?

“Please Y/n..” He says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Lando..I…I need you to leave” You whisper out, fist clenching in your lap. “I feel the same Lando, but you’re so complicated…”

“One moment it’s all okay then the next you’re insulting me and- and belittling me…”

“You walked out on me when I needed you the most”

“Yeah well you did the same to me with Carlos..” He says dryly.

“That was different and you know that! Him and I were both drunk!” You say irritated, getting up off the couch, now standing in front of Lando.

“See this is why it couldn’t work out between us! You’re too petty and full of yourself!”

“How do you think I feel?!” Lando suddenly shouts back, standing up to face you

“How do you think it feels to have a girl you love just throw you away like that?!”

You just stand there silently, not knowing how to respond. You feel your eyes beginning to swell up with tears, and you look down for a few seconds before meeting Lando’s gaze.

“Do you know how it feels to have the guy you love call you a pussy? To- to make fun of you for crying? And kiss you and make you feel special for one moment then turn around and say the most hurtful words to you? Huh? Do you?” You say, poking him in his chest with each word.

“You don’t get to act like the victim Lando! You don’t get to walk around all high and mighty Mr. McLarens golden boy!”

“It’s not fair…you don’t get to play around with my heart like that..” You add on, voice wavering.

Lando stands there, silent, a look of guilt on his face. You can see him visibly shake, as if this was a big wake up call.

“Y/n..please..” He whispers out, “I’m so so sorry..I didn’t mean it, please Y/n…”

He pauses for a few seconds, before continuing. “I want to do better, I really do like you and I realized I don’t want you out of my life, I don’t want you to leave and I want you by my side through everything..”

“Then why did you say those things to me?” You mutter out, eyes watering.

“You made me feel like shit..like I was worthless”

“It felt like I was nothing to you..” You add on, a chill going down your spine.

You can see his expression change as you speak, a look of hurt and guilt in his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said those things, okay? I was hurt, after what you did with Carlos..”

“I was trying to make you feel what I felt and I should’ve realized that it wouldn’t have made it any better for anyone..”

“But please Y/n, I don’t want to be like that anymore, I want to treat you like a princess, like you deserve to be treated..” He pleads out, grabbing your arms.

“I..I need time” You say, “Just give me some time to think..”

Looking up into his eyes you see a glimmer of happiness, that at least you’re considering giving him a chance.

You can see his expression fill with relief, as if he thought you wouldn’t give him a chance.

“Thank you Y/n, please..just call me when you’ve made your mind up.” He says softly, before walking over to the door and opening it.

He turns back and smiles at you, before closing the door and leaving your apartment.

You stand there in shock, not entirely sure what just happened. Then you hear the all too familiar “du du du Max Verstappen” playing from your phone, telling you Max was calling.

You rush to get to your phone in your bedroom, “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, tell me why Lando texted me saying he “somewhat fixed things but he wasn’t sure’”

“Can’t I explain that to you when I get to your apartment?”

“No”

Letting out a sigh, “Pretty much we kind of opened up, sort of? And I told him I needed time to think…”

You were met with silence. “Max..?”

“Finally, you two were starting to get on my nerves”

“Weren’t you the one pissed at him??”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you guys aren’t stupid and pussys”

“Okay well you didn’t have to word it like that..” You grumble out to Max, rolling your eyes.

Hearing a knock at your door again, you walk towards it. “Anyway weren’t you the one freaking about the “age gap” we had? As if Kelly isn’t years older than you” You say to get back at him.

“That’s different Y/n..”

“No I don’t think it really is…” You say as you open your door, phone slipping from your hand as you feel someone’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a kiss.

You try to pull away until you’re hit with the familiar scent of Lando. You visibly detense, wrapping your arms around him as you kiss him back.

“Hello? Y/n? Hellooooo??”

Lando pulls away from you with a grin, then leans down to pick up your phone.

“She’s busy”

“Ew..use a condom, then Y/n tell me everything after” Max says before hanging up.

Lando places your phone on the nearby console table you have, “I wasn’t going to walk out on you again…I know that now” He whispers out, arms wrapping around you again.

“Good..” You reply breathlessly, leaning in for another kiss.

You kiss Lando passionately, letting yourself fall into him. You feel the heat between you build as the seconds pass.

As Lando pulls away from the kiss you look up at him, your heart pounding. You close the door behind you, leaning in for one last kiss.

You hear your phone buzz and pick it up. Max sent a text saying ‘Call me later’. You laugh and stuff your phone in your pocket, and then look up at Lando.

“Now where were we?” You ask with a smirk, running your hand up his shirt. “I think we left off right here” Lando says, smirking back at you as you run your hand up his shirt.

He presses into you, pulling you closer as his other hand reaches up, fingers grazing the skin on your neck. You feel a shiver run down your spine, as he leans in for another kiss.

Lips meeting you pull him in closer by his shirt, simply happy again to actually be kissing him with meaning behind it.

You pull him even closer, wanting to feel more than just his lips on your own. As he continues to kiss you, his hands begin to roam, exploring every curve of your body.

As he breaks away again, he looks into your eyes, eyes full of desire and passion, his gaze set on you alone.

“We should go to my room..” You whisper out, looking at him as you slip your hands under his shirt, feeling his skin.

“Oh yeah?” Lando asks, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes your hand. “I think I just have one condition” He whispers, his eyes staring into yours as you walk to your room. His voice is soft and seductive, a voice you can’t refuse.

“What’s that one condition?” You ask with a grin, turning towards him as you two enter your room.

Lando leans in and whispers in your ear, his hot breath on your neck sending shivers of excitement down your spine.

“Im going to make you cum four times before I fuck you..”

Your breath catches in your throat, you hadn’t imagined Lando to say something like that, but it turned you on.

You shift under his gaze, already starting to feel yourself grow wet at his stare.

His eyes never leave yours as he starts to remove your shirt, his hand gently moving your hair behind your ear and then back to your neck. He gives you one slow kiss on your neck, before pulling away and gently pushing you back onto your bed.

He slowly moves towards you, as if he knows exactly what you want him to do. He pulls off his own shirt.

You stare at him breathlessly, just taking in the sight of his tanned body. He moves over towards you, leaning on his elbows to not fall on top of you he pulls you into another kiss, one that you accept gratefully.

You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer. He lets out a small groan against your lips, feeling his bulge right up against your center.

He pulls just inches away from your lips, slowly grinding himself down against you, tightening your legs around his waist you let out soft moans and whimpers.

“Fuck..I need to see your pussy, I just know its so pretty..” He groans out, you unhook your legs from around him and as soon as you do he pulls down your pants and panties, throwing them somewhere in your room.

His pupils grow as his breathing gets shallower, “Just as pretty as I imagined..” He mumbles out, licking his lips as he runs a finger through your wetness, “And soaking..”

“Just for you..” You mumble out, “Yeah? Not for Carlos?” He says teasingly, suddenly thrusting a finger into you. “I just know he’d love to see you like this…” He adds on, curling one more finger into you as you let out a gasp and moan.

He watches his fingers curl in and out of your pussy, juices coating them as he fingers you. “Is that good baby?” He whispers out, eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah..yeah so good Lan..” You moan out, spreading your legs wider for him by some miracle.

You could feel him start to scissor his fingers in your pussy, trying to stretch you out. “Oh..fuck Lando…” You whimper out, eyes rolling back.

“Moan my name again” He growls out, thrusting his fingers harder and deeper into you now. You could feel them hitting the one spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck! Oh my god, Lando!” You moan out, thighs shaking as you cum around his fingers, he lets out a groan at the sight, making sure to remember it.

“Mmm..so good baby..” He murmurs out, slowly curling his fingers into you, not showing any signs of stopping.

“Think you have three more in you?” He whispers out, slowly pulling his fingers out of your pussy as he brings them up to his lips and sucks them clean, letting out an appreciative hum at the taste.

“I can’t..I haven’t ever..” You mumble out, thighs shaking a bit. “Well you’re going to” He growls out, moving to be face to face with your pussy.

“You’ll be crying for a different reason now..”

……

“We should probably talk about it…” You mumble out, cuddling up to him in bed. Lando lets out a hum, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yeah we should..” He says with a sigh, he turns to face you.

“Y/n..” Lando pauses, not knowing what to say to you exactly.

You see him take a deep breath, before saying, “I know that I hurt you, and what I’m about to say isn’t going to completely make up for it..”

“I really like you, and I know I should have explained how I felt about you earlier but I didn’t..”

“But that’s in the past, let’s focus on the present now..” He says, looking into your eyes as he plays with your hair.

“You’re right…” You say, knowing that most of the past with Lando was drunken actions, and words out of spite.

You’re lost in thought for a moment until Lando breaks you out of your thoughts, “What’s wrong love?”

You hesitate to answer, not sure if it’s the right time. “Do you think it’s actually annoying that I go to Max for things..?”, voice barely above a whisper as you ask him that.

Lando goes silent for a moment, taking a few seconds to think before replying.

“Honestly Y/n? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it” He admits, voice gentle.

“Max is like family to you..” He says, smiling softly at you.

“What I said to you on the plane…I hope you know I didn’t mean any of that” He adds on with an apologetic stare.

The words of what he said to you on the plane replayed in your head, remembering the harsh words and attitude.

“Don’t call me Norris Y/n, and how typical of you to tell me to go cry about something.” Lando says, his voice full of hate.

“I’m not you, I don’t need to go cry to my team principal or my teammate once someone says something that I don’t like.” Lando continues, his tone now loud and frustrated.

“Yeah, I know..” You whisper out, wanting to look away but also wanting to see how Lando deals with the mess he created.

“I’m sorry..please forgive me” He says, taking your hands and staring into your eyes as he says it.

You can’t deny him, because you know you can forgive him. You don’t want him to feel horrible about himself, and you know that he’s being genuine about his apology.

There was no hesitation when he said that he wanted to be with you.

But you also knew you weren’t exactly in the clear either, “I’m sorry too, for what I said to you..” You mumble out gently, even if your words didn’t compare to Landos.

“It’s okay Y/n, really..” Lando says, voice soft.

“Look, can I confess something to you?” He asks, and you know that it’s something important as his eyes meet yours.

He takes a deep breath, before looking away and admitting, “I think I was so insecure, that I wanted you all to myself..” Your heart flutters, as you didn’t know what to think.

“Well if it means anything, you really don’t have any competition…” You say with a small smile.

Lando looks back at you, as if what you just said took him by surprise. “Oh yeah?” He asks, voice full of mischief.

“Care to explain?”

You smile back at him, “What, I’m just speaking the truth you know?” You add on playfully with a grin.

Lando suddenly moves towards you, getting on top of you and pressing himself against you, his lips just brushing against yours.

He smirks at you as he speaks, “You know, you might just convince me” He whispers out.

“Yeah? What might I convince you on?” You ask with a giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Just to make you mine, completely” He says, as a smirk spreads across his face.

“Just you, and me, that’s all I’d need” He adds on.

He leans in and kisses your neck before looking back up at you. “Please? Tell me you can be mine, only mine” He murmurs out, voice full of desire and passion.

You look into his eyes and nod. “I can be yours” You whisper quietly, not wanting anyone else but him in the end.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: I hope this was a good final chapter! I will make a follow up one at some point! I absolutely loved writing this mini series and I hope you guys loved reading it! Please leave any comments, I love interacting and getting feedback 💙

taking requests: ✅

taglist: @willowpains @m0cha-bunny @formula1mount @fennecspage @80sloverry @nichmeddar @sadg3 @microskies-blog @mycenterfold @victoriaholland @aurora-maria @tswizzleismother @camdensreg @lazybot @i-wish-this-was-me @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @landosgirlxoxo @woozarts @disneyprincemuke @jggykhug09090

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sinofthesloth · 5 months

Note

so how do you think Epel, Vil, Malleus, Azul and Jack Howl would deal with a crush who actually starts running at them and hugging them as a greeting after a couple months of knowing the boys? (The hugs only seem to be reserved for the boys. Crush clearly has a favourite. Probably horrifies people when they first do this to Malleus). Like their senses tingle and they bee line for the boys and suddenly the boys are being hugged by this human with golden retriever energy from behind or somehow this person had teleported in front of them and hugged?

Hey Sin here, not sure if you want all the boys together since you wrote, "Crush clearly has a favourite." but I am going to separate so each boy has his own part. Sorry if this is not how you wanted them. Also this is my first time doing an ask, so thank you for sending one in!

Content/Warnings: Jack's part is more of a general day of school, Epel's part is centered around the Song and Dance Competition (Epel's part has slight angst and talks about Vil's overblot) Azul's part talks about his overblot, Vil's part talks about his fangirls, and Malleus part talks about Sebek a good bit. (I love him) Requested: Yes by @nesting-dreams Word Count: At least 400 per boy. Written: December 1st. Characters: Jack, Epel, Azul, Vil, and Malleus

Jack

At first the hugs didn't confuse Jack. He took in stride and squeezed back. He had younger siblings and knows that sometimes a hug is just what a person needs to get by. He had known you for quite some time.

He was there for Leona's as well as Azul's overblots. He knows the kind of stress that has been put on you, and he wants you to know he will always be there for you.

Jack started to notice his crush on you when he would make eye contact with you across the courtyard and you started to make a dash to him. At first he thought it was cute, but day after day, he started waiting for you. It was a slow realization, but after Deuce called his tail wagging out at the track field, man was embarrassed.

He also noticed you didn't hug the others like you'd hug him. If he was looking away, you'd softly wrap your arms around him. If he was in a group, you'd make sure he saw you coming first. But every time you'd hug any of the other boys it was always a side hug. You would also press him into yourself as much as you could when you hugged him.

He just hoped you wouldn't notice his tail wagging each time you held him close.

Epel

You've seen each other in classes before, but you didn't speak more than a few short sentences with each other. Just enough to know his name and a few facts about him. You two finally got much closer during the Song and Dance competition.

During the first night they all stayed at the Ramshackle dorm, you made your rounds making sure everyone was comfortable. You didn't need Kalim's family to come after you nor did you need Vil's fangirls finding out you didn't bend to the man's every whim. Epel was the last one you checked on before heading into your own dorm room. It was clear he was upset.

That night you sat with Epel into the late hours. He talked about how worried he was. How he felt that he was always underestimated thanks to his feminine looks, and how he knew he would never live up to Vil's standards of him. Of the standards he put upon himself. He talked about how he always put his best foot forward in fear others will never give him a chance if he didn't. He works this hard only to prove he is capable.

That was the first time you hugged him. Since then, every morning you gave him a quick squeeze before serving everyone breakfast within Vil's restrictions. You'd hug him before practice, after practice, during breaks, during lunch, after classes. Anytime you could spare to hug him, you did. You wanted to show him you cared.

At first he'd give you a light tap on the back, but as time passed he fell in love with holding you against him. He was enjoying these hugs these past two weeks. He enjoyed the encouragement and praise you'd give him and it was clear to Rook and Vil how Epel was changing. He was trying harder, he was more attentive, he was doing anything to prove himself to both you and his dorm leaders.

After Vil's overblot, you beelined it for Epel. Grabbing him with one hand in his hair and the other pressing his chest into yours. He wasn't letting you go anytime soon. He could take the whispering comments of the first years and the mumbles of his dorm leaders later.

Azul

Azul wasn't nice to you before his overblot. He used you, used your friends, used his friends and did many other horrendous actions. No matter what he said during his moment of weakness was an excuse to do what he did, but that didn't stop you from taking his words to heart. He was a scared, hurt child. Still was in some sense. He was coming down from his overblot when you hugged him. He held onto you as he cried. All you could do was help him hide his face in your chest as whisper sweet nothing as he latched onto you sobbing.

As time passed, you grew closer to him. He wouldn't talk about the overblot and you wouldn't bring it up. No one knew why you started to randomly walk up to him and hug him. Half the time you wouldn't even give Ace or Deuce a front hug like you did him. Azul refused to drop the boss-man attitude but if anyone looked as close as the twins did, they'd see the way he would twist the back of your shirt with how tight his grip on you was.

Sometimes, when you were behind him, you'd run up and squeeze him from behind, taking him by surprise. That was the only time his face would be covered in apple-red blush. He'd clear his throat and scold you, before opening his arms for you to give him a proper hug.

He couldn't hide his crush from the twins. They'd talk about how you wouldn't give anyone a front hug, much less one from behind. Just recalling it made his face explode.

He grew addicted to see you. Especially from afar. If you thought he'd make it out of a room before you could reach him, you'd run up and tackle him into a hug.

Vil

Vil was never a hard man to find. Just follow the trail of glitter or the clicking of phone cameras. You don't really remember how the two of you got close. It definitely might have been when you were running from Rook and leeched onto Vil to hide behind. From there, the three of you bloomed an odd friendship.

Vil catches on immediately, and in the beginning of it, he does try to get you to stop. Not just for his image, but yours as well. There have been videos of you running up and jumping on him for a hug. A few of you hold him for just a moment to long and pictures upon pictures of the two of you.

There are multiple theories about the two of you online. Rook loves reading these out loud to Vil while he is getting ready for the day. Seeing his face tint with a cherry red color always puts a smile on Rook's face.

It gets to the point that you'll stop hugging him and instead wave or jokingly bow toward him instead. Which just ignites a fire on the internet. His fangirls want to know if y'all broke up? If y'all were ever together? What happened? Why aren't you hugging anymore? Vil didn't know what to do. He seemingly was going through a mode. Rook called them withdrawals. Epel was just annoyed both for you and because of you.

By the end of a week and the swarm of questions on all his posts, he talks to you about it. Asks what you believed would be best. "No matter what you do, you are in the public's eye. Do what makes you happy." You wouldn't hug him until he made a decision himself. You didn't want to push him one way or another. Another week passed, and he noticed how you didn't hug others the way you hugged him. Ace would get side hugs, and Deuce would get hugs where you wouldn't fully wrap your arms around him. He seemed to be the only one you'd throw your arms around the neck of.

He was glad he was the only one you'd hold like this. His decision wasn't any easier, but he knew he missed your hugs. "Maybe behind close doors."

"You can always just start dating them." Epel commented.

Malleus

(- He is extremely ooc and I hate it, so I'll be fixing it soon. Hopefully after class)

As soon as you attempted to sneak up on Malleus, Sebek is there to call you out. He would be snatching you off the ground before you made it twelve feet in range of Malleus.

The hugs started the night of Vil's overblot. He visited to check up on you, and you didn't know how to thank him. He talked about it for days afterward. Lilia was the one to bring up sneaking up on him for a hug. You've hugged him at least once a day since. Sebek is distraught any, and every time he sees you hugging. Marching over to promptly remove you from Malleus.

If you can make it to him when running up to him, he will laugh before lifting you up as you jump into his arms. It also takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that you don't hug others like you hug him. He doesn't fully understand the deeply rooted pride his has over this. He also doesn't notice how much he looks forward to your hugs until you're sick one day.

Lilia has to drag this man out of your dorm because he was trying to cuddle up into your bed with you. He just wanted a hug. You promised to give him two tomorrow and with that he left. Leave you some soup and medicine after Silver explains that since you're magicless, there is no way of telling how your body would handle it.

Sebek was mortified. The prince of fae was crawling into the bed of a human. Lilia was dying of laughter as the prince sulkingly walked back to the hall of mirrors. It was clear to those who were close to him that he had fallen in love with a human, those that weren't feared the upset dragon-fae.

No worries. As soon as you hugged him the next day, everyone was wiping out their phones to capture photos. It was spreading like wildfire, and when he returned to his grandmother for the holidays, she asked where you were.

Hope you enjoy trying new foods and being surrounded by multiple suits of armor.

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according2thelore · 9 months

Text

You are married to Sam Winchester. You don’t have a name.

You met him in a bar. Or a park. Or a diner where you worked. Or a library you were studying in. Or on the bus route back to your apartment. Or in the frozen aisle of a grocery store. The location doesn’t matter, but you know that you know him. That’s all you need to know. He smiles at you, and you smile back. He’s nice to look at, in the way that shards of stained glass are nice to look at. In the way that car crashes are captivating, in the way that a tree can be both dead and alive at once, in the way that homes disappear one room at a time. It doesn’t matter. You open your mouth to introduce yourself but the waitress-librarian-cop-bus driver-clerk talks over you. He never asks again. I’m Sam, he says. It’s a nice name. He’s got a nice face.

Dating him is easy. He never asks any questions about you. You ask questions about him, but he doesn’t like it, so you learn to stop. I had a brother, he offers once, in the way that someone says, I tried to kill myself. You nod. His name is Dean. It’s odd, maybe, that he refers to Dean in both past and the present tense. He doesn’t like it when you question things like that, though, so you keep quiet. Sam says strange things sometimes, when you’re sitting entwined on your couch watching reality TV. I killed monsters. They killed me, sometimes, too. He says. Your eyes go wide. He reassures you, It doesn’t matter. You melt back against him.

Oh, okay. As long as it doesn’t matter, that’s alright with you.

You get married. You get married in a courthouse, because Sam doesn’t like churches. I’ve made too many promises in churches, he said. I can’t break any more.

Okay, you say. You never liked churches much anyway. Or maybe you do. Maybe you believe in God. Sam doesn’t. He says he killed God. You believe him, because he’s got a knife carved from bone hidden under your boxspring. He keeps herbs and finger bones in jars and a golden bowl in your china cabinet, and won’t let you touch them. When the clerk hands you your wedding certificate, you smile as Sam kisses you. You’re excited when you take the paper from him, hoping to see your name. But in the space where it’s supposed to be is blank. Sam rubs a finger over Marriage Certificate, then over his name scribbled in pen. It’s perfect, he says, looking up at you with distant stars in his eyes. Oh. Okay, it’s perfect. That’s good.

He cries out for Dean in his sleep. Night terrors so severe that they upend you from his bed shake him awake once a week. He screams in a language you’ve never heard before. After those nights, Sam doesn’t look you in the eye. He doesn’t talk after nightmares, and you don’t know how to shake him back to consciousness.

You catch him in the reflex of doing things. Odd things set him off. A rerun of that medical drama you binged in undergrad shuts Sam down, and he doesn’t come home until after dinner. An Asia song plays in a grocery store and Sam drops the milk in the middle of the aisle. You find him having a panic attack behind your car in the parking lot.

He has an old car in the apartment’s parking garage that you’re not allowed to touch. It’s vintage—a beautiful thing, because you know a lot about cars or maybe you don’t—and it’s got an arsenal in the trunk. He buries salt lines in your yard. If you sneak up behind him, he’s got a knife to your throat before you can explain yourself.

Sam laughs at something on his phone, and goes to show someone, but it’s always only you there. It seems to disappoint him. When he’s upset, he gets more upset when you say the wrong things. It’s a dance that you don’t know the steps to, and Sam’s too tired to teach you.

It’s okay, you’ll learn yourself. You buy him almonds at the grocery store. You always keep the thermostat above seventy two degrees Fahrenheit. You always grab him a second of whatever you get: a beer, a sandwich, a blanket. You sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. It’s not perfect. When you do the laundry, he gets frustrated with you because you fold things “too big.” He always orders two sides of fries. He buys ground beef that he doesn’t eat.

He has a dog. The dog doesn’t like you, but it doesn’t not like you either. Sam hates you for it. Dean loves this dog. He loves Dean, too. Sam told you. You wilt. Another test failed. Dean’s really good at this game, but you’re not. Dean’s good at most games, at least the games that Sam likes to play. You try to love the dog more after that, giving him treats and actually cooking the ground beef Sam throws away every week to feed him. When Sam sprints into the kitchen as the smell wafts through the house, he collapses when he sees it’s just you. He doesn’t talk the rest of the weekend.

Sam gets a job at the factory. Or the construction site. Or the law firm. Or the local community college. You work as a nurse. Or a doctor. Or a cop. Or a secretary. Or a chef. It doesn’t matter. The details are blurry. Sam invites you to a Christmas party with his coworkers. This is my wife, Sam says, proud. His coworkers smile, but they never ask your name. You don’t have one. That’s alright with you, as long as it’s alright with Sam. You’d hate to embarrass him at a work party.

You have sex. You get pregnant. You have a kid. Those things happen in some kind of order, but it gets mixed up sometimes.

You’ve always wanted a girl probably, but when you look into the face of your son, you realize that you’ve never wanted anything as much as you want this child. Or maybe you never wanted kids. But you have one now, and he’s your priority. You’re a good mom.

Sam didn’t have a good mom, didn’t have a mom until he was in his thirties, but she didn’t last long. So it’s important to him that you’re a good mom for his son. You’re going to take the job seriously.

We should name him Dean, you suggest, and Sam sobs into your hair. Your chest warms pleasantly. You like it when Sam holds you like this. When Sam shows you the birth certificate, your eyes catch on the name. Dean Winchester Junior? You ask. That’s for naming a child after a parent. Sam looks at the baby in your arms—wait, now it’s in his arms—and says, Dean is as much of a part of this as either of us.

The space for Mother of Child is blank. You’ve never seen a picture of Dean Winchester. Or Dean Winchester, Sr. now.

You fall asleep in an apartment and wake up in a house with a porch and a white-picket fence. That’s nice. It’ll give the dog space to run around. In your child’s sixth month alive, Sam sleeps in the child’s crib with a knife. Just to make sure, he says. Nothing’s going to happen to Dean. It takes him a long time to say the name without flinching when he’s talking about his son. When your son turns a year old, you finally remember to ask what Sam’s tattoo means. He looks surprised that you’ve mentioned it. It’s a tattoo that I got with Dean. He says. Of course it is. You’re angry, but it’s gone again, because these are things you’re supposed to accept about Sam. It keeps demons from possessing me. Demons? You ask, startled. Sam’s mouth thins into a line. Yes. You need to get one, he says. And the second that Dean turns sixteen, I’m signing that form and we’re taking him in to get one, too. You’re alarmed, until Sam tells you that it’s okay. That’s a relief. You get the tattoo, right over your left breast, and Sam fucks you so hard that you can’t walk the next day. You introduce your family to your boss one day, This is Sam and Dean!, and Sam shoves the baby into your arms and has to leave the room. We’re calling him Dean Junior from now on, Sam says later, after the hunted look in his eyes melts into exhaustion. Alright.

You clean the house. You wear sundresses. You like your job, but not enough to let it get in the way of being a mother. Sam teaches Dean Junior how to throw a ball. He helps him with math homework. You make meatloaf and take Dean Junior to soccer games.

You realize late—too late, maybe—that all the pictures of you on the mantle are a little blurry. You can’t remember the last time you saw your own reflection. You pull out your driver’s license. It’s blank, just your address. No picture of you. Your hair colour is just “dark.” No height. “Thin” is your weight. You speed on the way home from work so you can get pulled over. You hand over your empty license and your blank registration, and the cop barely gives either a glance. You’re free to go. He says. Everything’s in order.

You walk in the front door, and Sam kisses you on the cheek. He’s had to get glasses recently, and they make his face look even more handsome. Welcome home, honey, he says, smiling. Do you remember when you told me you killed God? You ask, because that sounds vaguely familiar. Sam blinks at you in confusion for a couple of seconds. The house shudders around you for a second.

Yes, Sam says, voice distant. Yes, I think I did. There’s a new God now though. I helped raise him. He’s a good kid. The house stills. There is no room for nasty things here. Only good. You nod, relieved. I’m glad he’s a nice boy, you say, picking up your son. If anyone could raise God, you could.

Sam looks haunted by this. He retreats.

Sam doesn’t tell you everything. Sam won’t ever tell you everything.

You look into the face of your son as he swings his legs lightly against your hip. He’s got green eyes, and he’s sucking on his thumb, a nasty habit you’ve tried to break. Sam shows Dean Junior pictures of his brother. He tells him stories, when Dean Junior’s asleep, about the open road, about cicadas and fireworks and greasy diner food and sunscreen and used textbooks and ash.

You sit on the opposite side of the door and cry because this man is a catastrophe and he hunted monsters and he loves everything more than you thought anyone could love anything. He’s half a soul, crammed into one body, edges ragged. He’s over two hundred years old. And he likes cherry slushies and he’s killed angels and he dreams of his brothers hands and he’s seen the face of God.

I love your uncle, you had heard his voice, a low murmur in Junior’s nursery one night. Sometimes I don’t know how to exist and be so unknown. Even when we didn’t speak, he knew me. No one has known me in years. I don’t think anyone will ever know me again.

You kiss him and try to make it like his brother would do it. He’s grateful. Sam’s grateful for a lot of things. He calls your lives together an “apple pie life.” But you don’t like apple pie. Or maybe you do. It doesn’t matter.

It’s okay. You’re just Sam Winchester’s wife. You’ve got a son named Dean.

You’ve spent your whole life sharing them both with a dead man.

crossposted on ao3 here

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam and dean #spn #ao3 #sam winchester's blurry faceless nameless thin wife #an icon truly #she's for the people #gencest #weirdcest #implied sam/dean #samdean #wincest #charlotte will be drawing this!!!! because she's the best!!!! and talented!!! mwah mwah mwah!!!#and i'm not just saying that bc she's reading this over my shoulder #lizzy writes

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atlabeth · 2 months

Text

weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes.

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides.

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard.

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die.

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating.

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down.

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books.

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud.

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.”

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.”

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?”

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?”

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.”

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?”

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.”

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?”

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.”

“How did you get that?” he asked.

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?”

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on.

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.”

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?”

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments.

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.”

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.”

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked.

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.”

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.”

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.”

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you.

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused.

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?”

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.”

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.”

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.”

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!”

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—”

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?”

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.”

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.”

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.”

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.”

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you.

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know?

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.”

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness.

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.”

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both.

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?”

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?”

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.”

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?”

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.”

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.”

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.”

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.”

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.”

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.”

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.”

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.”

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.”

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?”

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.”

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.”

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb.

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her.

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.”

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges.

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.”

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?”

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in?

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most?

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.”

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly.

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.”

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own.

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked.

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit.

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented.

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element.

He wondered what you would think of Montauk.

“This was one of those times?” he asked.

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.”

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool.

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird.

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened.

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?”

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.”

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.”

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day.

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself.

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again.

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit.

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly.

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.”

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.”

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?”

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could.

“I look like a stock photo.”

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.”

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?”

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.”

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said.

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.”

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?”

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.”

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed.

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.”

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.”

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.”

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.”

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.”

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h”

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—”

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.”

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.”

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.”

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke.

Either worked for you.

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list.

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.”

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.”

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.”

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!”

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus.

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!”

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.”

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.”

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—”

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!”

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.”

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.”

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.”

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything?

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.”

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.”

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan.

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that.

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest.

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over.

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground.

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid.

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help.

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary.

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium.

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black.

#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation #makes me feel a little crazy tbh #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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