#i’ve been ✨INSPIRED✨

[plutoccult]

I’M COOKINGGGGGGGGGGGG

[theemporium]

and if I said the next fic I’m working on is the jack x ice skating!coach fic, then what?🤠

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚃𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙸𝙼 𝚂𝙾𝙱𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙶𝙶𝙶𝙶. 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝙱&𝙹 𝚍𝚞𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚜𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚠— 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚘’𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚟𝚋𝚏𝚋𝚏𝚑𝚍𝚓𝚓 𝙸 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝙱&𝙹 ✊🏾🥲…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟻𝟷𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛. (𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝? 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝 = 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 = 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜/𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙? 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝).

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @itzsana-kiddingmenow

@saturnzskyzz @giggly-cloud @savemeafruitjuice

@rice-cake-teen10 @titters-and-tingles @tmntalways @my-l0v3r-v3rse

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝟷𝟶𝟷% 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 <𝟹

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚒𝚝!!!

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜…𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 /𝚛𝚎𝚏˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Alright. Hear Mikey out on this one, okay? Because in all honesty, this was originally a fire plan. A lit plan. Some might say that the fire from the plan was sooooo hot it was practically blazing due to the fact of how awesome it was.

…okay. Well perhaps maybe people don’t say that exact term but they definitely should!

Anyways, it started off as a pretty chill day for the orange banded teen. I mean, it was Summer for crying out loud! These next few months were supposed to be absolutely nothing but pure chillness.

If your Summer isn’t even a bit chill in the slightest, then you’re doing something totally wrong. 

Daylight savings was over, school was over and most importantly…homework was over! (Besides the fact that Mikey and his brother’s are forced to do dumb reading reports over the break because the school system dumb)…But other than that, Michelangelo was basically free! Free as a bird. 

And so, like any sane studious kid that has been in High school for about a year…Mikey has been doing something he hasn’t done in a while since school started…

…Absolutely nothing.  

He’s been spending the past week or two playing Roblox on his IPad while eating Doritos mixed with Skittles.

Look, don’t even judge until you try, it’s actually pretty good!

But anyways, as Mikey was playing Flee the Facility, he randomly came to terms with the fact that he needed to steal some of his brother’s clothes for today…

Random thought, I know. 

The youngest has (and always will) politely take his brother’s clothes during the Summer— preferably hoodies and/or shirts. It’s basically a forced hand-me-down/Yard sale the youngest turtle always looks forward to. And today marked the 29th of June— 8 days from June 22nd. 

And if you’re unfamiliar, the 22nd of June marked the official end of Spring and official start of Summer! So the smallest turtle’s annual raid of his elder brother’s clothes was loooooong overdue. 

Last Summer, Mikey took Raph’s Detroit Become Human t-shirt, his WWE shirt, one of his polos and one of his The Walking Dead t-shirts (Raph had a TON). 

And the Summer before that, Mikey took Leo’s Squidward hoodie. And…yeah. That was basically it— the eldest was a pretty bland guy and there was really nothing worth taking from his wardrobe. 

So if you did your Math correctly, you would realize that this year it was Donnie’s turn. And so that’s what the youngest of the turtle teens was planning…

How the absolute hell could he take some of his immediate older brother’s clothes without taking ALL of them? 

Because believe it or not, the nerdy turtle of the group had a pretty good fashion taste and sense. His style was simple but not too bland or standout-ish. Donnie’s style was just a simple array of sweatshirts— a piece of clothing the smallest turtle could never EVER have too much of. 

But the tech-y turtle of the family definitely did. Just looking at his side of the shared bedroom, you could see sweatshirts and hoodies galore just scattered everywhere. 

The orange banded mutant looked through the sweatshirts and hoodies, trying to figure out which one he should now claim as his own.

A Sailor Moon hoodie? Too bright. 

An MHA sweatshirt? Too basic. 

An Attack on Titan hoodie? Too edgy. 

The youngest sighed in frustration, digging through his brother’s mountain of clothes before settling on a nice black hoodie with Gojo Satoru on it.

…what? Gojo Satoru was cool! Even though the orange banded turtle had only seen him in TikTok edits…those edit’s were pretty fire.

Just like his plan of taking his brother’s anime merch because he simply just could. 

The orange banded teen looked at himself in the mirror right next to Donnie’s tent, humming the popular yet overused tune that Gojo is associated with to himself, trying (and failing) to do the popular dance. 

“Ugh…how did Donnie do it again…?” The chocolate eyed teen inquired, attempting to do the dance one last time before lightly falling on his shell; the other sweatshirts and hoodies breaking his fall. 

“Dude…” A voice giggled behind him.

Mikey’s eyes widened at the sudden but familiar voice, glancing upwards to lock eyes with the one and only Donatello, peering down at him and smirking. 

“DONNIE!” Mikey shouted in surprise, getting up and whirling around so that he faced his immediate older brother as he tried to look as casual as possible, “Donatello! Dee! Don-bon…what’s…up…?” The youngest grimaced, sending awkward finger-guns as the hood to the hoodie fell down, completely covering his eyes due to how big it was on him. 

The elder snickered, putting a hand over his mouth as he tried to stifle them a little. “Oh shut up…” Mikey huffed, taking the hood off as the other turtle chuckled in amusement again, going to his younger brother and standing right next to him.

“My sweatshirt literally engulfs you.” The turtle that wielded glasses chuckled soflty which only caused the youngest to roll his eyes annoyed at the entire situation. “Shut. Up.” He pouted, crossing his arms as he glared at his older brother, “It looks good on me!”

“It swallows you…” The other said back. 

“I’LL SWALLOW YOU!” Mikey retorted, turning away from his brother angrily. 

The purple loving teen sighed fondly and laughed slightly at the automatic retort, raising a teasing brow at his younger brother, “Are you attempting at trying to look like me~?” 

The orange banded turtle blushed profusely, glaring at the other turtle’s question, “HELL NO.”

“Thehen why do you hahave the hoodie I wear literally everywhere? You know damn well Gojo is my go-to anime character of all time.”

Michelangelo grumbled, looking to the side of him as he swayed his arms at his sides. Okay…well, perhaps out of context it did seem like he was trying to look like Donnie. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t.

The only reason why the youngest “steals” clothes from his brother’s is because…well, he can and it’s easy. And it’s just…sorta comforting in a way. Not the stealing part…but…

Look— it’s dumb and confusing don’t think about it too much. 

The elder teen huffed out a small laugh, “Why did you choose my Gojo Satoru hoodie of all things, though?” 

“…I keep seeing him on TikTok and he’s the only anime character that hasn’t made me cry out of cringe in a way...” 

“Ooookay. Good for you, bud.” Donnie nodded, putting his hand out “Now give it here. Me and the TMLBANOT21stC are meeting later today to have a JJK meeting.”

The chocolate eyed turtle blinked, “Your going to…what…?” 

“My club stands for The Most Logical, Big-minded, Anime Nerds of the 21st century. Duh.” The honey brown eyed mutant said sassily, “Now give me back my hoodie or I’ll be late!” 

Mikey blinked once more, a small cheeky smile plastering on his face, “And what if I don’t want to?” 

“Michaelangelo—“ 

And with that, the smallest turtle ran out of the shared room, moving his legs as fast as he could that the other in the room just saw an orange and green blur sprint past him. 

“MIKEY!!!” Donnie howled angrily, running out of the room to catch up with him. The second youngest bumped in between the two eldest turtles, quickly apologizing to them as he ran after the youngest.

The leader in blue scratched his head confused, “Should we…?”

“Nah.” Raph commented. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

Donnie was internally groaning. If he couldn’t get his hoodie back from his brother in the next 10 minutes he would be late to his own club. 

Imagine that.

…Exactly! You can’t. 

The second youngest looked around the living room, trying to figure out just where his little brother was. In the last couple of years, the honey brown teen didn’t really mind the youngest taking some of his clothes (even if Donnie would’ve preferred him just normally asking).

But Donnie needed this hoodie. More than anything and one way or another he would get it. 

Suddenly…an idea popped into the geniuses brain, smirking widely as he leaned on the wall. He closed the door without stepping outside of the kitchen, still in the room to make it seem like he left. The youngest peeked from behind the couch, him and his brother making immediate eye contact. 

Ha. Got em. 

The anime loving turtle basically lunged at the smaller turtle, sitting on top of him as the other tried to squirm away. “I GOT YOU, YOU LITTLE TURD!” The purple cladded teen smirked triumphantly, crossing his arms and watching amusedly as his little brother tried to escape. 

“Just give me back my hoodie, man. You’re making it seem like I’m asking you for your liver.” 

“YOU DID ONCE!!!” 

“That was for a Bio experiment.” The elder corrected almost immediately, “But that’s not the point just— UGH! Give me my dang hoodie!!!” 

“NO!!!”

The purple banded turtle glared, uncrossing his arms as he wiggled his fingers in the air, “Wanna do this the hard way? Because we can do the hard way, little brother…”

The brown eyed mutant paled, shaking his head back and forth at the question. Well…this didn’t go exactly as planned.

Donnie just scoffed, his hands immediately going for the other’s underarms but Mikey put his arms down, sputtery giggles escaping his mouth as he did so. “P-Plehease! Deehee!”

“Don’t 'plehease Deehee' me! Give back me back my JJK hoodie!”

“BuHUT—“

The elder turtle lost his patience, effortlessly raising the other’s arms as he scribbled his free hand’s fingers all over his underarms. The smallest turtle squawked, falling into loud giggles. He kicked his legs underneath his older brother, “DOHOHON— NOHO!”

“Someone is sensitive here!” Donnie mused.

“STAHAP— I AHAM NAHAT!!”

“You’re not? Not what~? Ticklish~?” The anime loving turtle asked, his smiled widening as he saw how flustered his baby brother was getting. “STAHA— STAHA-! DEEHEE!” Mikey shrieked, “NOHO TEEHEEASING!”

The glasses wielding teen gasped dramatically, “No teasing? You take my hoodie and now you’re telling me what to do?” 

“NONONONO WAH— *squeal* WAHAHAIT!!!”

The tech whiz wasted no time prodding his thumbs on the youngest hips. The brown eyed teen squealed loudly, hugging his middles and just not even trying to stop Donnie’s hands at this point.

The last time he attempted to, his immediate older brother spent the next half an hour scribbling the orange banded teen’s palms…

That was hell in itself and Mikey was not trying to relive that again if he could help it.

“Awe…does this tiiiickle? Is this tickling you~? Maybe that’s cuz you’re reeeaally ticklish here…” 

“IHI— *squeal* QUIHIHIET!” Michelangelo demanded loudly. 

Donnie smiled at the weak retort, kneading the other’s hips harder, “What happened to all that smugness, hm? Where’d it all go, little guy~? Do I have you in a giggly puddle because your tickle tickle ticklish and I’m tickle tickle tickling you~?”

“STAHAHAP *squeal* SAHAHAYING *squeal* THAHAT, AHAHASHOLE!!!”

“Stop saying what~? Tickle? Ticklish—?”

The orange banded teen squealed loudly once more, accidentally cutting his brother off with his teasing. The glasses wielding teen couldn’t help but laugh softly at it, “Awe…look at my baby brother…” Donnie cooed. 

“NAHAHAHA!” The youngest threw his head back in loud laughter as Donnie now tickled the sides of his shell. Mikey arched his back, trying to buck his older brother off of him but Donnie held on easily, continuing to tickle him. 

“PLEHEASE! PLEHEHEASE!!!” 

“'Plehease'? Please what~?”

“JUHUST *squeal* NAHAT *hic* THE SHEHELL!” Mikey despretley cried, turning to his side as other small hiccups followed as the end of the hoodie went up a bit, revealing some of his plastron. 

The honey brown eyed turtle giggled at the perfectly played out action, “Oh…would you look at that~!” He mused, “Last chance to give me back my hoodie, bro.”

The smaller turtle’s eyes widened in realization, looking up at his brother from the corner of his eye, “Yohou *hic* wohohoudn’t…!”

“Oho wouldn’t I~?” Donnie grinned, gently holding Mikey’s waist and blowing multiple upon multiple raspberries on his stomach whilst scribbling his nails on his sides. “DAHAH— *squeal* DAHANNIE!” Mikey cried. 

“Jeez…your mega ticklish here, huh?”

“SHUHUT— GEHET— PLEHEHEASE!!!” The brown eyed teen rambled through his laughs, shaking his head. 

“Why— would— I???” The tech whiz mocked playfully, now blowing raspberries on his little brother’s neck and scribbling his fingers all over his stomach. “NAHAHAT THEHERE!! BROHOHO COHOME OHAHAN!!” The youngest squealed and squeaked. 

Donatello smirked, ceasing his 100% justified attack for a second, “You saying 'nahahat thehere' is genuinely so funny, Mikes. Like, I was going to tickle you here regardless but, hey! Thanks for confirming how badly it tickles for you.”

He resumed his tickling onslaught on his younger brother, the younger brother in question basically falling limp due to how hard he was laughing. The only body parts that were really fighting for his life right now were his legs, that still did not cease desperately kicking the floor. 

The purple banded turtle now started lightly giving ticklish nibbles on his younger brother’s neck as his light scribbles on the smaller turtle’s sides became quick and fast squeezes. “Om nom nom! Hm…you taste like…giggles! And ticklishness~! My favorite food combo!” The elder teased. 

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE?! WHAT DOHOES THAHAT EHEHEVEN MEEHEEAN?!?!” Mikey cried desperately, his voice sounding like a tea kettle brewing because of how squeaky and high pitched it was.

“Awe…you haven’t used that nickname for me in ages~! It must tickle that bad, huh?” The glasses wielding turtle cooed.

“IHI *hic* CAHAN’T!”

“You can’t~? Can’t what~?”

“IHIT— *hic* NAHAHAH!” Mikey silently wheezed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes tight. “Is someone giving me the silent treatment?” Donnie snickered, “Pfft— get it? Cuz you’re laughing silently~? Eh? Eh?”

Okay, even if Mikey was the comedian of the family, he would’ve admitted that was a pretty solid joke if he wasn’t getting slaughtered right now. “FIHINE FIHINE *hic* HAHAVE *hic* IHIHIT BAHACK!!! TAHAKE IHIHIT!! PLEHEASE *hic* JUHUST STAHAHAP *squeal* I’M GOHONNA *squeal* DIHIHIE!!!”

“That would be kiiiiiiiinda funny making your grave honestly.” The tech loving teen smugly said, “Michelangelo Hamato. Reason of death? Being too freaking ticklish.”

“DEEHEEHEE!!!” The youngest cried. Donnie stopped, getting up and laying next to his brother, wrapping him in a side hug which the smaller turtle immediately melted to. “May I plehease hahave my hoodie back?” 

“Ihi juhust sahaid yehehehes!” The orange banded teen groaned, literally throwing the hoodie at his immediate older brother. The anime loving teen smiled, putting on the hoodie as he grinned in triumph. “For real real. I feel like new...” He said to himself proudly. 

And if the youngest knew his brother (which he did), that was probably a quote that that Gojo fellow has said. 

“Oh! And by the way, little bro. My club doesn’t have a meet up today. It’s tomorrow.” Donnie snickered, walking away and leaving Mikey left in complete and utter awe. 

That freaking asshole.

Okay, well now Mikey’s definitely taking that MHA hoodie next year.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[shokupanko]

First Fukase Friday of 2024! This one took 5hrs lol I wanna to be so extra (─‿─)

[pvffinsdaisies]

IreKor.. I hope I got Soojin’s info right..

((An actual age for Ireland I have yet to find, so I just go with when the celts reached the island and whap a < on there to show she’s probably younger. South Korea’s is based off of the kingdom of Silla and I googled her name in Korean so pls tell me if it’s wrong.))

I don’t particularly think either Saoirse or Soojin are worriers, but I think Saoirse is more prone to worrying. I have yet to find songs for them…

[jelly-of-many-ships]

gonna be Crowley for Halloween which means dying my hair for the first time!! Wish me luck lol I have no idea what I’m doing

[knives-and-narcissi]

Plan for today: respond to AO3 comments, publish new chapter of COPP, finish next chapter of Ever Ours 🫡

Big goals, big dreams. Let’s see if I can actually deliver … 🥹

[mi55delulu]

movie goers

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

synopsis: starting off on the wrong foot with your new neighbor was not on the top of your bucket list, yet you’ve made an enemy of jeon jungkook in less than 24 hours. unlucky for you, he’s not backing down either.

genre: enemies to friends to lovers (e2f2l)

wc: ~16.4k

cw: not so cute meet, slice of life, slight angst, fluff, mature language, mean jk and mean oc — they get better though, cheating (not main characters), fwb (not main characters), mutual pining, oc is lowkey a hopeless romantic, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, smut, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, love love love. if i got any rules/regulations wrong, i didnt. leave me alone, it’s fanfic 😇✨also written in lowercase bc that’s just how my phone setting is and i’m too lazy to go back to capitalize … ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: yuh … inspired by real life events. anyways, this is the first time i’ve posted a fic on this page. i’ve been an avid reader (still am) but i’ve been wanting to put something out too. so here’s my gift to close out 2024. also, i miss jk. I MISS BANGTAN. ;-; enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

—

if you had to describe your ideal neighbor in three words, it’d be: mindful, quiet, and kind. cause that’s what your neighbor, mrs. lee, was to you in the last three years you’ve lived in this apartment complex. she kept to herself, walked her small crusty (but cute) senior white dog, and brought you leftover cookies when she baked too much for her grandkids. you always had a feeling she made just the right amount with you in mind, but of course she’d never tell you.

so when she broke the news that she was going to move into her son’s home because they’ve been worried about her living alone, you were happy for her — happy that she’s going to get taken care of, but sad that you’ll be losing a great neighbor.

you tell her whoever moves in after her probably won’t be as good of a baker. she simply laughs and tells you to be nice.

three months pass and you hear footsteps outside your door one afternoon. when you try spying through your peephole to get a glimpse of the commotion, you see boxes stacked on the side of apt# 305.

finally, someone was moving in.

some of the boxes were spilling onto your welcome mat, but that didn’t really bother you. you were more curious about your new neighbor … er, perhaps neighbors. so any clue on whether it was going to be an individual or a family moving in would give you an idea of who you’ll be living next to.

unfortunately for you, all the boxes were neatly sealed off.

“dang it.” you mutter to yourself while squinting at the labels on the boxes. clothes, kitchen, shoes … workout? well, okay no indication of toys so you can safely assume there aren’t any kids … yet.

you look at your clock, it’s about time you head out to get your mail anyways. maybe you’ll bump into your new neighbor(s).

except, it wasn’t as easy to spot who exactly was going to be moving in with all the different movers. you sigh and sift through your mail as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. most of the boxes that were outside had already been moved inside the apartment by the time you returned from the mailroom.

as curious as you were of who your new neighbor could be, you had better things to do … like binge watch your kdramas before your shift starts. maybe if you’re feeling extra nice … you’ll say hi later. no one wants to start off on a bad foot with their neighbor. you fumble around your pockets for your keys and eventually hear your locks click open when you’ve successfully unlocked your door.

“hey, neighbor.”

you turn. now, in all your 28 glorious years of living, you can easily count the times you’ve been starstruck on one hand. seeing the northern lights by accident on your way home in 2024, meeting your favorite youtuber at a late night diner when you were 15 years old, and being noticed by one of the highest ranked players in maplestory’s world chat.

the person in front of you? a sight to behold. tall, killer smile, numerous piercings, and a forearm adorned in tattoos. yeah. you don’t think starstruck would fit for this occurrence, but what you do know is that they’ve gotten you tongue tied.

“welcome!” you blurt out and give a tight-lipped smile before barreling through your entryway. you don’t give yourself another second to study his expression once the door shuts behind you. were you lame to run away from your new neighbor? sure. will you regret this? well, the cringe is already seeping in. you’re probably branded as the weird girl now … whatever.

what’s done is done.

you don’t know if 305 is mindful, quiet, or kind.

but fuck, he’s hot.

—

305 was not quiet.

you know it’s a housewarming party with a couple of his friends. he didn’t have to tell you … you heard them loud and clear through the walls several times as they clinked their shot glasses for the 11th time that evening.

you’re texting your frustrations to dohwan, your boyfriend (?) er … someone you’ve been talking to (and fucking) these last 2 years. he hasn’t quite put a label on the relationship just yet and claimed that he is only seeing you. labels didn’t really matter to you but as time grew, you’ve come to like him a lot and wished for something more. he’s career-driven, great in bed, and knows how to whip up a good breakfast the morning after he stays for the night. he was supposed to come over tonight, but told you he got caught up with work. it’s times like these where you feel a level of uncertainty with dohwan. you spiral and don’t feel as secure as you want to be.

you shouldn’t feel hurt or disappointed … but you do, because hell, alright … maybe you didn’t just like him.

you love him.

you’re not embarrassed that you told him 9 months into seeing each other. has he said it back? no, but that’s okay! everyone has a different timeline when it comes to feelings. you could only hope he meets yours soon enough. why else would he stay for this long?

back to the situation at hand.

you’re not an irritable person, but the least 305 could’ve done was given you a heads up that he was going to have a celebration. you would’ve asked to stay over at dohwan’s in that case.

another round of laughter erupts through your walls and you grit your teeth in annoyance.

“fuckin’ hell,” you throw the covers off your body and march out of your apartment. you find yourself glaring at 305’s door — a juxtaposition from how you usually looked when mrs. lee used to reside here.

god, you missed her.

you knock on the door a few times, taking note how the chattering from the inside decreases and some footsteps grow close to the door.

again, you almost want to want to run back to your apartment when you’re face to face with 305’s handsome confused face.

realizing it’s you, 305 smiles, “oh, hey—“

“it’s nearly 12 a.m. do you mind?” you cut him off.

his smile drops and he leans one shoulder on his doorway.

“sorry,” he says, “we’ll wrap up soon.”

you’d usually drop something this trivial by now, but you’re in a foul mood. unfortunately for 305, this is will be his official first impression of you.

“how much longer is ‘soon?’ it’s been like this for 4 hours,” you really don’t mean for it to come out that way, but the damage is done.

little did you know, 305 wasn’t going to backdown either. he may be new to this complex, but he’s not privy to obnoxious neighbors. the only difference is that he thought you were going to be quiet and shy, much like the first meeting.

“don’t know.” he shrugs.

“i really don’t want to involve property management.” you cross your arms. it’s a half threat — you’ve never called because you never needed to … but you’ll flip through your 50 page rental agreement if you have to.

he mirrors your stance and looks out to your apartment’s door.

“well, sorry to burst your bubble, 307.” he says and you see red, “but management is aware of my get together. it’s not my fault they didn’t inform the other residents.”

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath.

he smiles again, a little less friendly and more condescending this time, “we’ll finish soon, 307. good night.” he shuts his door on you before you can formulate a sentence and you’re left outside in the dark.

—

“yo, jungkook … were we being too loud?” hoseok asks while popping a handful of m&m’s into his mouth.

“yeah, cause your laugh can be heard from all throughout korea,” jimin mocks, earning him a shove from hoseok.

“nah, don’t worry about it. just my neighbor saying hi.” jungkook plops down on the sofa with the rest of his friends.

“oh? should’ve invited them in. we have enough pizza to feed a village.” taehyung nudges his side.

jungkook laughs and shakes his head, “just scale down on the volume and we’ll be golden.”

jungkook loves good company, having lived with his friends for most of his college years, he was a bit reluctant to move out. it’s a little bittersweet, but all his friends are happy for him and his new journey in adulthood. he won’t have to deal with messy roommates and random guests … vice versa. as fun as it was to live in a house full of your best friends, at the end of the day, men will be men. gross, loud, and obnoxious.

not jungkook though, so he thinks.

“ha! called it,” jimin snorts, “you were being too loud, hyung.” this earns jimin a punch to the arm and hoseok’s booming laugh when jimin dramatically falls off the chair.

jungkook knew it was useless to request this of his friends, so he took it upon himself to give the property manager a heads up. lucky for him, the lady seemed more than happy to accommodate. she even left her business card with him after he signed the lease … something about calling her if there’s ever an issue with the apartment — any time of the day.

weird.

what’s weirder was his neighbor. from running away during the first meeting to demanding he end his housewarming on the spot. okay, to be fair, you didn’t, but you might as well have. it didn’t help that jungkook was hotheaded and gets a little irrational when something involved his friends.

so what if he thought you were pretty in your black pajama set? you called his friends loud, when in honesty, they could’ve been much worse. seriously. he knows jimin’s taunting held some truth. hoseok has been responsible for some noise complaints in the past. so this was considered manageable. plus, it’s not like he’ll be inviting them over every weekend.

but if it meant pissing you off, he might consider it.

alright, he wasn’t that cruel and he definitely doesn’t want to make living next to you unbearable. he’ll apologize first thing in the morning tomorrow, but for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with his best friends.

—

jungkook was going to murder you.

not literally, but he could if it wasn’t for the major hangover holding him back. he blinks twice, looks at the clock on his nightstand, reads 7:01am, and lets out a big sigh after another round of drilling vibrates against his wall.

fuckin’ hell.

it feels comical now that he’s in front of your apartment, face still swollen from sleep, but so visibly upset at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.

“are you serious?” he asks, voice still laced with heavy sleep.

you, on the other hand, look put together and almost too happy this early in the day. jungkook can only rule you out as a psychopath — a pretty psychopath. your hair all in place, lashes kissing your cheeks when you smile at him, and not a single wrinkle on your clothing in sight.

“what’s up,” you peer outside your door just as he did last night, “305?”

he wants to let out a groan, but that’d give you too much power.

“drilling at 7 in the morning? that’s gotta be a violation.” his voice still laced with sleep, though, he’s sure to sound assertive.

“nope! here,” you smile and pull out your phone, the level of brightness makes jungkook squint, “county regulations allow work as early as 6:30am.”

“yeah, if there’s justification. there’s no reason for you to be drilling this early.” jungkook argues back.

you pout, evidently not sad at that revelation, “but my mental health. i was kept up all night by my neighbor and his friends … i need some wall decor to cheer me up. surely you could sympathize, right?”

you don’t allow him to formulate another thought as you’re shutting the door, “i’ll be done soon, have a good day!”

jungkook almost wants to laugh at how irritated he is, but all he can do now is try to get some shut eye before his shift starts. that is, if he can even go back to sleep.

should’ve asked his friends for some earplugs as a housewarming gift.

—

the drilling eventually came to a stop. only because you could not be bothered to wake up earlier than you had to and you think you made your point pretty clear to your neighbor — don’t fuck with me.

honestly, you’re not sure what came over you. you never liked causing issues for people and you’re also well liked by your work peers and friends, so this was out of character of you. it also didn’t help that your friends spurred you on and praised you for one upping him. as the rage dissipated from your system, you’ve come to the conclusion of why you acted out.

your new neighbor was a conventionally attractive man. he probably knows this too judging from the way he spoke to you — like you’d back down just because he said so. he probably was able to schmooze the lease manager into giving him a better rent deal and get pardoned for all the noise he made during his housewarming party. sucks for him; you’re not a fan of pretty privilege.

you had to set him straight, so drilling into a random piece of wood every morning right near his bedroom wall was the perfect revenge. you expected some backlash from him; surprisingly, he didn’t say a word to you after his first confrontation. so, you stopped the antics after the third day.

weeks later, you learned his name is jeon jungkook. not through a formal introduction … only because his mail got mixed in with yours and you tossed it onto his welcome mat. he eventually came to realize your name through the same way too.

though, he’ll always be 305 to you and you’ll always be 307 to him.

that’s fine.

you’ll scowl every time you see him and he’ll stick a middle finger up to you as well.

the feeling was mutual.

“so, are you still battling it out with your new neighbor?” dohwan asks one evening. his head was actually between your legs at the moment. you like having random conversations during sex, but talking about your annoying neighbor wasn’t on the top of your list.

“mm, yeah,” you moan lowly when he flicks his tongue on your clit. “well n-no, not anymore.” you correct yourself, “oh fuck, keep going.”

“good, i’m tired of hearing about him,” he chuckles against you and continues his ministrations between your folds. if you were caught off guard by his comment, you weren’t anymore. the pleasure coursing through your body is enough to make your head spin.

he moves away from your body once you’ve come by his mouth. without warning, he slips inside you and you hiss from the overstimulation, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“gonna fuck you so well.”he’s thrusting relentlessly, “it’s what you need, huh princess?”

you nod, too overcome by the power of his thrusts hitting all the right spots. dohwan is a little more vocal tonight — it makes you feel special but you’re also a little self conscious about your nextdoor neighbor hearing things. you’ve always kept it down even when mrs. lee lived next door, jungkook would be no exception.

people fuck, it doesn’t mean you can’t be courteous. you sure as hell don’t want to hear your neighbor fucking given that you’ve seen him bring back several different girls to the apartment these couple of weeks.

one thing you’ll commend jungkook for is not being a loud fucker in the bed.

“baby,” you whine as he pauses a little to listen to what you have to say, “we should keep it down.”

he tilts his head, reaches in between your bodies and circles slowly on your clit with his thumb while he resumes rocking into you. you keen and almost let out a moan.

“why? let the asshole hear.” he grunts when he picks up the pace again. dohwan kisses down your neck and leaves a red hickey on your collarbone. you let out a pretty sigh and wrap your legs around his waist.

“y-you,” he moans particularly louder and it throws you off slightly, “saw the way he looked at me today, right?”

you didn’t, but you definitely saw the way dohwan glared at jungkook and tightened his hold on your waist before entering your apartment. meanwhile jungkook had just come back from his evening run — at least that’s what you assumed since he was wiping away his sweaty hair from his flushed face coming up the stairs.

“baby, are you really going to talk to me about another man while we’re fucking?” you laugh and cup his face in your hands. he huffs in frustration but his eyes soften, it’s opposite to the brutal pace he’s set on your pussy.

“sorry,” he continues fucking into you and the room is filled with wet noises and his panting once again. even though he apologized, he does nothing to lower his volume.

knock-knock. the sound definitely did not come from the frontdoor, it was far too close to hear.

another series of knocks come and you realize it’s your bedroom wall. dohwan pays no attention to those sounds and is far into chasing his own high, but you move your hands over his mouth to muffle his grunts.

jeon jungkook is knocking on your wall.

he knows you’re having sex and you’ve become that obnoxious neighbor. if that wasn’t enough of an instant mood killer, you hear him blasting one of akon’s featured hits “i just had sex” to mock you and dohwan.

yeah, sexy time is over. you push dohwan off you and head into the bathroom to nurse your embarrassment.

shortly that night, dohwan leaves and it’s the first time you’ve gotten into an argument with him where you think he’s in the wrong.

—

people find it daunting to go to the movies alone. you’d agree until you were forced to go alone after no one wanted to go watch twilight with you in high school. it was awkward at first, but once the light dimmed and the movie started, no one cared about their surroundings.

that’s why you liked going alone. no one will pay attention to how alone you were. everyone in there will be focused on the big screen in front — you included. there was always something liberating about doing things alone too. ‘like yeah, stick it … i don’t need anyone.’ kind of energy.

the only thing you wished was to have someone to discourse with after the movie ended. it’s not a dealbreaker though. you could have easily asked dohwan to come with you, but you’ve been ignoring him since last week after the loud sex fiasco.

regardless, you’re watching moana 2 today. you’re sure it’s going to be a full house given that it’s the opening week. you can only pray that you won’t be surrounded by snotty (literally) kids. nonetheless, you’re excited and the theater was getting filled up as more movie goers come in during the preview. your row was nearly full, saved for the single empty seats on your left and right side.

score, no seat partners or snotty kids. you’ve won this time around.

you’re texting your friends and telling them your luck—

“ahem.”

you look up and you see two people standing in front of you. you’re sure it’s for the seats on your left and right side cause you double checked your ticket before sitting down and everyone else in your row has been seated for quite some time.

“can you move?” one person asks. weirdly enough, the voice is familiar.

even though the lights are low in the theater, you can see that it’s a man and a woman. and when you squint a little more at their figure, that’s when something catches your eyes. a tiger lily tattoo, the same one that your neighbor has.

no fucking way.

“hello?? can you move?” he asks again a little more aggressively. there’s no way he can’t recognize it’s you being that the movie screen is bright enough to shine a light on you. doesn’t matter. you weren’t going to move before and you definitely aren’t going to move now. hell, you’ve been asked plenty of times to move by both families and couples in the past — the difference was that they asked nicely. some were generous enough to offer you snacks when you did move for them.

jungkook? nah. no thank you. you’ll stay right where you are.

“nope.” you hold out your ticket to show your seat number and refocus back on the previews playing.

the girl behind him grabs his arm and gently asks him what seat numbers he got.

“k11 and 13.” he mumbles.

yeah, cause you had bought k12.

“oh, um, it’s okay! we wouldn’t even be talking during the movies anyways,” she reassures with a kind smile. “let’s sit so that we’re not blocking anyone?”

jungkook gives her a tight lipped smile and plops down on k11 while the girl takes k13.

“you’re fucking annoying for that.” he says only loud enough for you to hear. he’s angrily eating his popcorn and it makes you want to laugh mockingly. he’s dressed in all black with a silver chain dangling loosely around his neck. his hair is neatly styled and he smells nice. perfect for a first date … minus you being the factor to ruin it.

“i’m not the one that booked shit last minute. do better.” you shrug.

the previews are still playing and you look over at the girl. she’s so pretty and probably too sweet for jungkook’s good based on how she handled the seating situation.

you feel a little guilty, but that feeling leaves you the moment jungkook hands over the popcorn to the girl, spilling a couple on your lap. you glare, he smirks, and the girl unknowingly takes the bucket from him.

well, two can play that game.

“your nails are so cute, where’d you get them done?” you ask.

she beams and shows you her set, “a little shop called banger nails down myeong-dong! they’re great.”

“oh, your nails are so pretty though. where do you get it done?”

truth be told, you haven’t had your nails filled in over 3 weeks … you know they look rough, but you assume she’s just trying to maintain a conversation being that her actual date was a seat away.

you tell her your shop and she tells you she’ll definitely try out that location when she has the chance. she offers you some popcorn and you unashamedly take some, making sure jungkook sees.

he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to turn to your direction.

“oh, how rude of me. what’s your name?” you reach out to shake her hands.

“nayeon,” she answers and takes your hand in hers, “you?”

you tell her your name and she nods with a sweet smile. yeah, she’s definitely too good for jungkook.

the movie starts and you’re whispering commentaries and giggling with nayeon. you both held hands during the intense scenes and teared up at the ending. it felt really nice to connect with someone like this right off the bat. she was kind and funny throughout the entirety of the movie too.

you can’t say the same for jungkook. he had his arms crossed with a deep frown stamped on his face for two whole hours.

when the movie credit rolls, jungkook stands up and holds out his hand to help nayeon up. huh, chivalry isn’t dead you suppose. nayeon stands up and waves at you.

“it was so nice meeting you! we should definitely hang out. here, let’s follow each other on instagram!” she fumbles through her purse for her phone and you notice how jungkook closes his eyes in frustration behind her.

you and nayeon exchange contacts and as you’re reclining your seat upright, you hear jungkook ask her, “would you wanna get some froyo? my treat for messing up on the tickets.”

“aw, it all worked out though! i met a new friend,” she gestures over to you. jungkook doesn’t really acknowledge nor claim he has already met you.

why would he?

“i’m glad,” he replies, “still though, i feel bad that we didn’t really hang out. still up for that sweet treat?”

nayeon nods and looks back at you, “would you like to join us?”

unbeknownst to nayeon, jungkook looks at you in desperation this time and shakes his head pleadingly. you think you’ve tortured him enough this evening and you don’t want to subject yourself to hanging out with jungkook. seeing the couple link hands in front of you, you’re sorta missing dohwan a little now … so you’ll reach out to him and see what he’s doing.

“no, it’s okay. you both should enjoy that sweet treat together. i’ll text you on instagram!” you wave and jungkook lets out a breath of relief.

“let’s go?” now, what shocks you is his soft smile towards nayeon. it’s almost a 180 to the attitude you’ve experienced with him. then again, maybe it takes a special kind of person to bring that side out of you. nayeon can definitely do that.

she waves at you again and this time jungkook also waves at you (begrudgingly) too. it’s not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later … unfortunately.’ type of wave.

—

you come back from dohwan’s place a little after midnight.

nothing special happened, just hung out like normally. he didn’t bring up the argument and you didn’t feel like talking about jungkook either. this was a regular occurrence in your relationship with him. fights were always difficult, but the mend was easy … cause you guys tend to just sweep the issue under the rug.

clean slate.

“jesus christ!” you jump at the sight of a tall dark figure when you reach the top of your floor. your hand flies to your chest to hold down your hammering heart.

“relax, 307. just me.” jungkook says.

“scared the shit out of me.” you murmur to yourself. you proceed to open your door just as jungkook gets his keys out too.

“fitting for a piece of shit like yourself.”

“excuse me?” you raise your brows in question.

“you heard me,” he steps back out from his door, “loud for no reason, fuck like you’re the only one in the complex, and don’t even have the decency to move a seat over. it’s no wonder the previous resident moved away.”

you really want to argue back, but he read you for filth. you really have been an asshole, still, the comment about mrs. lee hurt. you’re not what jungkook makes you to be, but you’ve given him every reason to perceive you in this manner.

“look, i’ll apologize—“

“nah, save it. i’m tired of being nice too. have the night you deserve.” with that, he goes into his apartment and you’re left contemplating how you let things get this bad and awkward with your new neighbor.

there’s no point in trying to talk to your neighbor now. it’s late. you’ll process everything first and try talking to him tomorrow.

—

the talk never happened.

because for the next 27 days, you’ve been woken up by a blender at 5 a.m. you let that slide for the first 5 days thinking it was jungkook’s way of venting out his frustrations, but by the end of the week, you were back on hating your neighbor.

today marks day 28. you’ve had a long day at work and dohwan has been dodgy with you this week. you call him during lunch to ask him why he’s been so distant and he immediately goes off on you saying that he feels suffocated and that he likes his space. it hurts. because you thought that when you really like someone, all you want to do is fill your day with them.

it’s the evening after your shift and you barely make it up the top of the stairs before you sit down and cry into your hands. it’s so fucking embarrassing crying over a man, especially for one that you really like. majority of the time, he really does make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but then take you down to the pits of hell.

highest of highs, lowest of lows.

it fucking hurts, but you also don’t want to be more alone than how you are.

you hear footsteps come closer and you immediately wipe away your tears and look to the other side of the railing. the person coming up doesn’t stop and walks up past you.

you know them. you know it’s him. you can tell by his cologne and the black converse he fancies.

when you think he’s far enough and in his apartment, you let yourself cry some more.

little did you know, jungkook stands at the top of the stairs, contemplating on whether he should talk to you. he thinks you’re crying because of the blender. or maybe you’re crying because you have to go home to a shitty neighbor. feels bad and guilty. hates to see women cry or anyone cry for that matter …

you hear footsteps from behind and sniffle into your hands.

“uh, 307?”

“what?” your tone is biting but that’s understandable. you’ve been under a lot of stress.

he sighs, sits down right next to you on one of the steps. his legs are long so his knees fan out a little to brush yours. you scoot away and look at him with your bloodshot eyes.

ah, shit. he feels even worse.

“i know i’ve been a dick to you from the start.” he begins.

you scoff and look away.

“you didn’t make things easy either, okay?” he rolls his eyes, “but if you’re crying about the blender …”

“oh for fuck’s sake! no, this isn’t about the blender, 305.” you huff.

“ah.” he opens his mouth and closes it to think what to say next, “lemme guess … boy trouble?”

“shut the fuck up.”

he does so this time for a few minutes until you start talking.

“look, i’ve been meaning to say this but i’m sorry for being an asshole to you. you’re new here and i gave you a bad impression of me. i don’t want to continue making this a hostile living situation for the both of us.” you meant every word you said and whether jungkook accepts your apology, that’s for him to decide. at least you were the bigger person to apologize and take accountability.

“thanks. i’m sorry for being rude too. clean slate?” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. you look at his tattooed hand and a part of you feels relieved at the prospect of a resolution. you shake his hand in agreement. his hand was warm, a little calloused, but the hold was firm and promising.

“you’ll stop with the blender now?” you muse.

“aw man, i was getting used to the daily fresh green smoothies … but i think the blender is on its last leg. i’ll spare you for now and buy premade smoothies,” he grins and winks jokingly. his smile was friendly, similar to the one he gave to nayeon that one date. speaking of which, you’ll have to text her when you get home … she’ll definitely want to hear this update. you’ve been religiously in contact with her since the movie date and she’s been your person when it came to complaining about jungkook.

you and jungkook stare out at the sunset and breathe in the autumn air. it’s nice and just what you needed.

“hey, 307?” jungkook breaks the silence after a while and you hum in response, “for what it’s worth, he sounds like a dying gorilla when he fucks.”

it was the first time you laughed all day.

—

things have gone back to normal between you and dohwan surprisingly. he apologized to you the next day and said he acted out because work has been on him lately. you accepted his apology.

on top of that, you and jungkook are … getting along? he’s actually not that bad. he greets you every morning and makes small talk with you about the weather when you are both at the mailroom.

oh, and the blender at 5 a.m. have stopped completely. he does complain that he misses his green smoothie, to which you reply that he can still make it … just not when you’re still in deep sleep.

“no thanks, the prep is annoying.” he brushes it off.

so one morning after grocery shopping, you pick up a cup of green smoothie from your favorite shop and drop it off at his door before he’s back from his usual run.

‘drink up, 305. - your lovely, sweet, favorite neighbor 307 ♡’

to which, he dropped off a matcha pastry to you the next day after you mentioned how you’ve been craving it lately.

‘peace offering to the demon. ps. you’re my only neighbor LOL - 305’

needless to say, this started a ritual between you and him dropping off snacks and drinks to each other.

so yeah, things have been good.

tonight, dohwan is taking you out on a movie date to watch wicked. it’s not your first choice, but you love a classic so you’re open to see this modern-day remake. plus, he’s been extra sweet to you too.

you’re standing near the ticketing area waiting for dohwan to get snacks when you suddenly hear, “307?”

you turn your head and it’s jungkook with a girl you’ve never met before. he waves and asks what you’re watching.

you point at a nearby wicked movie poster and he nods.

“we’re seeing the same movie too. sorry, forgot to introduce you both — this is jinah,” he gestures at the girl next to him and she nods at you in acknowledgment, “and this is my neighbor.”

“ohhh the one that drilled for a week?” she marvels at you and you flush at her question.

“three days,” he corrects, “but felt like an eternity.” jungkook looks back at you like it’s an inside joke and you feel warm under his gaze.

“he’s exaggerating. eternity is waking up to a blender for almost a month.” you fire back casually and it earns a laugh from everyone.

“well, you’re here with someone this time right?” he teases since he notices your makeup is done extra nice tonight and you have on a shorter beige skirt that cuts right at the top of your thighs. you looked beautiful whether or not this was for an actual date.

anyways, it’s all said in pure jest and he knows you take no offense in it when you laugh. knows he can joke around with you now — you’ve both established a good rapport.

“mhm. you bought tickets right next to each other this time?” you retort and he snorts at your question.

jungkook stares off from a distance and his gaze changes. he takes hold of jinah’s hand in front of you.

“i’ll catch you later, 307. enjoy the movie, ‘kay?”

“oh, okay,” you stare at jungkook in confusion, “it was nice meeting you, jinah. hope you both enjoy the movie.”

they both turn and head to the the concessions first and you’re back waiting alone again, but not for long.

a hand touches your lower back and you know it belonged to dohwan.

“ready?” he hands over your drink and you both head to the screening auditorium.

there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you push it away once you’ve found your seats.

—

jungkook feels sick.

he’s seated behind you and dohwan. that was fine — wasn’t the problem.

the issue was seeing him be overly affectionate to you once he took notice of jungkook outside the auditorium. he doesn’t want to assume, but that’s the energy he gets from dohwan. it’s too much. though perhaps that’s how he usually was to you — he should be doting to you as someone you’re romantically involved with.

jungkook has a bad feeling about him.

jungkook has been on multiple dates this year, nothing ever leading to more because there wasn’t a spark beyond physical attraction. he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or hurt someone in the process if he were to continue something he sees no future with. which brings him to wonder why you still entertain that man when he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.

the sex can’t be that good … based on what jungkook was forced to hear that one evening. plus, he made you cry. that man can’t be good.

well, what does he know about relationships? he’s the “serial dater” while you’ve been with the same person. obviously jungkook is doing something wrong. maybe jungkook was just projecting.

he lets out a sigh when dohwan slips his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

“you good?” jinah whispers.

“yeah, sorry. didn’t realize how long the movie was. ass is starting to go numb,” he smiles apologetically.

she nods and refocuses back to the big screen. jinah was nice, but a little too uptight for his liking … she would stare back blankly at him when he tells a joke and it makes him question his own humor. he’s sure he’s a funny guy — you always seemed to laugh at his remarks.

shit.

why was he thinking about his neighbor when he’s on a date with another person?

he shakes away those thoughts and zones in on the movie. just a couple more hours till he can go home and relax. a bitter part of him hopes he doesn’t have to see you and dohwan enter your place together tonight.

—

you and jungkook have this thing where you go on walks and get your mail at the same time on fridays. that’s the day you work from home and he’s off.

you never liked walks but jungkook called you out one day for walking extra stiff up the stairs. you can’t help it … sitting for long hours at a desk job wasn’t ideal for your body, but it got the bills paid. by the end of your shifts, you’re too burnt out to do anything. you’re not like him who goes on routine runs at the ass crack of dawn. not everyone was fortunate to have a … wait, you’re not sure what he really did for work.

“305.” you deadpan, trying to maintain your big steps to match his long strides.

“hm?” he takes notice of your walking form and slows down his pace so that you can catch up. his dimples are on full display when he looks at you and it nearly makes you forget what you were going to ask him.

“what do you do for work?”

“what’s it to you, 307?” his brows raise in question and he chuckles when you scowl.

“just wondering. you seem to have a good work-life balance.” you shrug. he has to be making some form of income to afford the cost of living in this part of the city, so if it’s not an office job like yours, you’re curious what his line of work could be in.

“currently a tattoo apprentice, but i do art commissions on the side.”

“oh?” it makes sense. he had this artistic aura to him … tattoo apprentice also made sense too with his sleeve of tattoos. you wonder how many of those he designed himself.

“that’s very cool,” you mean it. you wish you could draw but your art skills could only rival a preschooler at best.

“yeah?” he scratches his behind his head, a habit you’ve noticed he does when he gets a little shy or flustered. “parents were super against it up until they saw what i made on my first commission.”

“it’s always like that with parents, huh? if you’re not a doctor or lawyer, nothing is ever enough for them,” you shake your head. it’s a small revelation, but jungkook feels the weight of your words. he can relate.

“you like what you do?” he tries to change the topic.

“it’s okay, gets the bills paid but honestly i’m developing a shrimp back from sitting at the desk all day.” you confess.

“good thing we’re going on these walks, miss hunchback.” he quips and nudges your arm with his elbow.

you stick your tongue out at him and his smile widens. jungkook takes out his phone and shows you some of the tattoos he’s assisted with on some clients these past months. you zoom in and stare in awe — the line work and colors were beyond beautiful and clean.

“they’re amazing, jungkook.”

his nose crinkles when he smiles at your compliment and cheeks flush at the usage of his real name.

“whenever you’re free, you can come over to check out my commissions.” he offers.

“yeah? you promise this isn’t some secret invitation to get murdered?” you smile cheekily at him and he playfully rolls his eyes.

“no promises,” he says and grins when you dramatically stop in your tracks.

“come on, 307. your lunch break is almost over and i gotta get my mail.”

—

you and jungkook return from the mailroom with stacks of envelopes and coupon advertising from random companies.

he’s behind you looking through his stack. among his many bad habits, one is not having the patience to open his mail in the comforts of his own home. typically by the time you both get to your respective doors, he already has the majority of his envelopes torn open.

men.

you stick your key into your door and hear jungkook gasp.

“shit!” he lets out a string of curses and you glance over where he’s at in front of his door … absolutely decked out in glitter.

“what the hell is this?” he’s dusting himself off, but that only serves to worsen the damage.

all the lights in your head go off. fuck. you had forgotten about the glitter prank order you made during the time jungkook was being a little shit with his blender. you totally forgot to call the company to cancel it …

you feel bad, but you can’t help but let out a series of giggles.

“oh my … jungkook, i’m so sorry,” you say in between your fits of laughter.

he looks at you in confusion but it doesn’t take long for him to piece things together. he tips his head back and looks at you incredulously.

“you did this? 307 … this is too much. how the fuck am i gonna get rid of all this glitter?” he opens his arms out and it makes you laugh even more to see him in this state.

“‘m sorry, i …” you try to catch your breath, “forgot to cancel the request and you were being such a dickhead that time.”

“i fuckin’ look like edward cullen.” he groans, looking at you with a serious expression and that has you doubling over.

he eventually joins you in your laughter, hands clutching his stomach.

“h-here,” you say in between tears, “i’ll help you.”

you dust off some flecks of glitter on his shoulders and reach up to smear it over his cheeks. this has got to be the highlight of your week.

jungkook pulls away and laughs at your antics.

“you think this is funny, huh?” he opens his arms again and you nod while stifling away your giggles, but your demeanor changes when he smirks deviously.

his arms circle around you and presses your face into his hard chest. jungkook is cackling just as hard as you are. he’s rubbing his body on your frame and you’ve accepted your fate cause you’re no match for his strength. you’re both even now. all glittered up, laughing, and having so much fun with this “misfortune.”

you won’t admit you’re enjoying his embrace. you won’t admit you fancy his cologne and aftershave. you won’t admit how you feel so soft against the hard ridges of his torso.

you definitely won’t admit how starstruck you got when he finally lets up and stares at you cheekily, unknowing of his doings and how pretty the glitter flecks frame his cheekbones and nose bridge.

he really was perfection.

little did you know, jungkook was also completely enamored by the way your eyes sparkle despite the crazy amount of glitter now stuck on your face and body.

did time freeze? no one has said a word but you can hear and feel your hearts pounding against each other in this close proximity.

“what the fuck?” a voice pulls both you and jungkook out from that dream-like state.

you look and it’s dohwan. confusion and anger is etched and evident on his face. he’s holding a bag of takeout, for what you assume was going to be your lunch. he stalks over and grabs your wrist and yanks you away from jungkook.

“hey man, it’s not what it looks like.” jungkook says. jungkook’s expression is neutral with a hint of annoyance in his tone. dohwan pays no attention to him and looks at you instead.

“are you cheating on me?”

“the hell, dohwan?” you stare back in shock at his accusation.

realizing how awkward this situation was, you start pulling dohwan towards your apartment. you quickly turn to jungkook where he was still standing, he looks concerned for you, “sorry, jungkook. uh, i’ll catch you later.”

he nods and moves around you and dohwan to get to his apartment door.

when you and dohwan are finally in the privacy of your home, you turn and he’s setting down the takeout on your coffee table. you can tell he’s still upset because he makes no move to sit down — he leans against your wall with his arms crossed.

“well?”

“well, what? it really wasn’t what it looked like, dohwan.” you roll your eyes, making your way to your sink to wash off the glitter on your skin. glitter was a bitch to get rid of, but you’ll do just about anything to distract you of dohwan’s awful attitude. you have about 10 minutes till you have to get back to work and don’t have the time to be arguing.

“don’t fucking lie. you’re always raving about how nice he is to you now. and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that’s not some ‘friendly neighbor’ shit,” dohwan raises his voice in frustration.

you toss the kitchen rag onto your counter and turn, “what’s so wrong about me talking about how someone is nice to me?! at least you know about the people in my life, but i don’t know jack-shit about yours. i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you need to check yourself.”

“don’t try to spin this on me. whatever is going on with you and your neighbor, needs to stop.”

“literally nothing is happening between us??” you run your hand over your face, “i can pick and choose who stays in my life, dohwan. you can’t control that.” you try to level your breathing. you hated feeling like your partner laid claim on you as if you were some sort of property and had ownership.

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.

his eyes soften after realizing what he implied and he comes closer to you. he rubs your forearms and pulls you in for a hug. you let the tears fall now.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just … i was insecure.” he confesses.

you sniffle into his chest, “why?”

he chuckles, “my girl hanging around a good looking dude? who wouldn’t be insecure?”

his girl.

“wasn’t aware i was your girlfriend.” you pull away from his warmth and regret seeing the glitter you’ve transferred onto his clothing in the process.

“well … i mean, you’re technically not. who needs labels?” he brushes you off and sits on the couch now. you’re left standing there, another wave of uncertainty washes over you. 5 minutes till you need to start working … do you really want to open the can of worms right now?

fuck it.

“i don’t know. people who love each other?”

he snorts then rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re back in serious mode.

“here we go again. we’ve been through this plenty of times—“

“do you even like me?”

“yes, of course.” he answers quickly.

“do you love me?”

he’s silent.

“then what are we doing, dohwan?” the real question was … what were you doing? it’s hitting year three of this situationship and nothing more has progressed.

“hey, hey … i thought you enjoyed spending time with each other … we agreed that it was just me and you,” he comes close to you again, but you hold a hand out to keep some distance.

“i need to get back to work. can you give me some space?” you mumble, “thanks for the food.”

—

the fallout between you and dohwan was anything but amicable.

you both boiled it all down to two things: you want more. he wants things to remain the same.

you requested for space and a break in the meantime while you figure things out. during that time, you felt yourself distancing from jungkook too. he tried to greet you like normally after dohwan’s confrontation, yet every time you see him, you make a beeline into your apartment.

guess old habits die hard.

you took this time to focus on you. you spoke to a therapist, got in contact with some girlfriends, visited your family, and busied yourself with work. self improvement, if one could call it. your therapist recommended to decentralize men in your life for a while so that you can focus on yourself. which meant no dohwan.

… and no jungkook.

you’ve been keeping nayeon posted on your life and she calls you out for being inconsiderate to jungkook. funny, because she was on your side when he was being rude to you and immediately ghosted him after the movie date (you still haven’t told jungkook you’ve been in contact with nayeon because things have gotten a little crazy). you promised to her you’ll talk to him soon though. he was just unfortunately caught in the crossfire of your messy relationship.

honestly? you missed your neighbor — your friend. but you needed to get your head sorted out and you’d be terrible company either way.

jungkook didn’t deserve that.

the break between you and dohwan meant that you don’t talk to each other till you figured things out.

breaks meant for a reset.

he kept texting you and telling you how much he missed you.

you had to keep reminding him of the boundaries.

he eventually obliged.

thinking you were finally ready to talk weeks later, you went over to his place after work, only to find him in shock, hair disheveled, red scratch marks all over his chest and shoulders.

“oh, um, i—“ you panic, feel your heart drop to your stomach when the realization settles in after you hear another voice call out his name from behind.

dohwan took that break and fell into bed with another woman.

“w-wait, let me explain,” he follows you out his door and nearly topples over you when you turned abruptly to face him.

you feel betrayed — so much for ‘me and you.’ the anger bubbling in your chest has a way of migrating through your body. you tremble, tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and your teeth dig hard on your bottom lip … you can taste metallic.

“we’re on a break,” he says as if you weren’t aware of the terms you originally initiated.

“okay? so that means you go and fuck someone else?” your voice is shaky but you push on, “you cheated.”

“no! i mean, fuck, what did you expect me to do? we stopped talking and it was fucking lonely … i— you can’t put all the blame on me,” he stammers.

so, it was your fault?

“i didn’t make you sleep with someone else. a-all—,” you choke on a sob, “all i asked was for some space and time. you couldn’t even give me that.”

the thing is, dohwan hasn’t given you anything beyond what he was willing to get from you. he liked your company, thought you were a sweet and funny girl, and god were you good in bed. he didn’t feel ready to settle down in a relationship … felt that being with someone officially took the spark out, but he also wasn’t willing to let you go.

so he held out for as long as he could. as a result, you did too in hopes that he could find it in himself to change his feelings for you.

love is patient, love is kind.

you’ve been patient, you’ve been kind. if this is love, why does it break you down?

maybe this love wasn’t for you; but rather, he isn’t for you no matter how long you wait and the number of pennies you’ve thrown into the wishing well.

“goodbye, dohwan.”

—

jungkook hates overly loud sex.

it’s the reason why he takes the extra precaution to put socks on his bed frames to muffle any potential noises. if his partner was a huge moaner, he’d do what any sensible person would … stuff his fingers into their mouth. what? the girl usually doesn’t mind and it minimizes the noises. plus, it was hot.

win-win.

sex didn’t have to be over the top to show that you’re passionate. jungkook knows that very well.

it’s also why he originally lost a lot of respect for you when he overheard you and dohwan having sex that one time. well, mainly dohwan.

fuckin’ gorilla.

jungkook has been worried for you ever since that awkward glitter situation. he wanted to apologize and even talk to dohwan if it’d make things less stressful on your end.

you’ve ghosted him for weeks. no more walks, small talk, snack trades, or trips to the mailroom.

he has a feeling it has something to do with dohwan.

just like how he knows the sobs emitting through his walls tonight has something to do with him.

jungkook hates overly loud sex, but more than that, he hates the sounds of your cries.

—

‘cheer up, 307. you deserve some sweetness in your day. ps. i’m gonna make you run if you keep missing our walks. also? stop avoiding me, it’s annoying - jk’

you smile and sip the banana milk jungkook left outside your door.

he always had a way with cheering you up despite being a headache for some time in your life. your therapist recommended to decentralize men from your life for a while … sure, jungkook fits in that category, but he’s also your friend.

you slowly let him back in.

he’s been good to you. though, you can’t say the same for yourself. you’ve been a shitty neighbor and a shitty friend.

yet jungkook shrugs it off and treats you normally.

you’ve been mending a broken heart and jungkook has been a great company meanwhile.

“you really need to work on your conflict avoidance, 307.” jungkook says one evening. he’s sprawled out on your couch with a bag of chips in his hands. it’s movie night — a tradition he forced upon you because you’ve apparently never watched the movie trolls.

you peel your eyes from the screen and tilt your head, “what do you mean?”

“any time something gets tough, you run away. gotta stop that, say what’s on your mind and work it out.”

“hm.”

“what?” he presses.

“nothing.”

“see? you’re doing it again. just say what you wanna say,” jungkook rolls his eyes.

“fine,” you chew on your bottom lip, “i hate this movie.”

jungkook had picked trolls 2 and it was so much more awful in comparison to the first one you were forced to watch last weekend.

“fuckin knew it. you’ve been spacing out all night,” he laughs, “see, doesn’t it feel good to be honest bout your feelings?” he reaches for your remote to switch to another movie. you watch him. really take him in and almost want to laugh at how horrible your first couple of months was with him and now he’s in your apartment watching awful movies with you to nurse your brokenheart.

you really had read jungkook wrong. he wasn’t just some conventionally attractive man that used his pretty privilege to get his way. he was genuinely a good person.

which makes you think … why the fuck is he hanging around someone like you on a friday night? he could be hanging out with some friends or going on a blind date with a pretty girl. better yet, why isn’t he in a relationship with someone?

was he just like you?

his voice brings you out of your thoughts, “alright, spill it 307. you look like you have something else to say.”

you sigh.

“how are you still single? just … i know you’re always dating different people. it can’t be that bad for you right? i mean, if you’re struggling … i feel kind of hopeless for myself.”

jungkook looks at you, dimples on display as he contemplates on what he wants to say next. the thing about jungkook is that he looks like he belongs in your circle — fits perfectly, actually. has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable about asking hard questions. he may tease you, but he’ll never judge you.

he ruffles your hair.

“just haven’t found the right one. it takes time and i’m in no rush. you shouldn’t either.” you feel yourself soften from his remarks until, “or else you’ll end up with a gorilla again.”

—

jungkook is treading in dangerous territories.

aside from trying to potty train his new doberman puppy, bam, he’s faced with another issue.

he may have developed a small crush on his neighbor. he can’t pinpoint exactly when he started getting that fuzzy warm feeling around you. it was a telltale sign when he’d wake up and sleep to the thought of you.

you can’t really blame all of this on him though. you’ve been a little more open about hanging out with him since your breakup with dohwan. jungkook has gotten used to your presence as a result. some people would see it as using jungkook as a rebound, but he feels anything but that.

you’re a breath of fresh air to hang around after a long day of work. which is funny cause there was a period of time he considered hexing you. now? he longs to see you and fill in gaps of his day with you. when he doesn’t see you, he thinks of you.

that just might be his demise.

even bam has taken a liking to you and often refuses to let you go back home when you are over.

like dog, like owner.

“aw bammie,” you kneel down, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

bam whines and follows you to the door.

“you can stay if you like, the guys won’t mind.” jungkook reasons. he’s having a small get together with some of his friends and extended the invite to you. you declined, telling him you don’t want to intrude and he should spend some quality time with them.

“just say that you want to be with me 24/7 and go,” you joke. jungkook won’t admit to you he does.

“nah, just need someone to watch bam while i have some bro time.” he teases back.

“hire a dog nanny then,” your hands automatically reaches down to scratch behind bam’s ear. there’s no need to hire one cause you’d willingly take care of bam for free. it’s all fun and jokes, jungkook knows this. he laughs and holds bam back from following you out the door.

“be on your best behavior tonight for your daddy, ‘kay?” you talk to bam like you’re his mom and jungkook’s stomach does flips at the mention of ‘daddy’ leaving your lips, “if it gets too much, you can sleep over at my place.”

bam has a sleeping mat at your place too. you’ve gotten it for him when jungkook comes over to watch movies — insisted that the pup should have a comfortable space in your home.

jungkook feels like he’s sharing custody with you. everything feels more domestic and it’s fucking with jungkook’s head and heart. which is why he asked you to dog sit bam while he goes on a date next weekend with some client’s friend he met at the tattoo parlor. thinks this date would be a good reset from you.

you wave goodbye to him, a playful grin adorning your lips, “have fun tonight, 305. if it gets too much, you can also come to my place too.”

he hates when you tease like this. makes him feel like he holds a space in your life more than he already should. knows you’re joking, but can tell there’s some truth in your statement. you’re attached to him just as much as he is to you.

“also, try not to be too loud tonight.”

“no promises,” he laughs, “hobi-hyung will be over.”

you giggle, you’ve met hoseok in the passing and also teased him too for causing a ruckus at the housewarming party. all his friends like you — it’s no surprise jungkook would eventually too.

so yeah, he’s treading in dangerous territories.

—

you’ve really been focused on yourself and your friendships. on your hardest days where you yearn for intimacy, you force yourself to be okay with the idea and concept of being alone. there’s a lot of bad days, but they get better.

it’s not always about being in isolation though.

it’s about not being dependent on someone to fill a void.

with dohwan, you realized you fell in the pattern of needing to be around him and when he wasn’t there, the world crumbled beneath your feet. over time, you realized he wasn’t good for you.

wrong person, wrong time.

because the right person will always make you feel safe and seen.

jungkook was right. it’ll take time to find that person — there’s no rush.

yet, you have this disquieting feeling when you see him rustling through his home to get ready for his date tonight. what do you do when you feel like the right person might be slipping away under your nose?

right person, wrong time, you suppose.

bam, his not so small puppy, lays his head on your lap and would occasionally lift it when jungkook walks close. if bam is doting with you, he’s completely devoted to jungkook.

doesn’t realize that his dad is gonna leave you both until he puts on his shoes at the door.

“ah-ah, bammie, stay,” you hold him and he whimpers for jungkook.

“well? how do i look?” jungkook does a quick 360 and you wanna poke fun at him, but you can tell he’s on edge for whatever reason. he has no reason to be. he’s charming, handsome, and knows exactly what to say or do to make someone’s heart skip a beat as he’s done so to you numerous times — you’d never admit it.

he’s your neighbor and most importantly, your friend. it’s a sacred relationship and boundary you’re hesitant to break. so you swallow down whatever you’re feeling and smile reassuringly to him, “you look great, jungkook.”

he beams and extends his hands out for a high-five, “thanks, wish me luck.”

your hands make contact with his and it feels electrifying.

“no luck needed, mr. 305 worldwide.” he absolutely hates the new nickname you’ve given him, doesn’t argue back though, simply scoffs and looks at the time on his phone.

“now go before you’re late and bam bolts out the door for you.” you shoo him out his own apartment.

he reaches down to pat bam on his head and give him some tender smooches.

“call me if there’s an emergency or if you’re bored.” he tells you with his hands shoved in his pockets and some of his bangs fall onto his forehead. there’s something so boyish about his mannerisms … you swallow thickly when you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. a part of you wonders if you tell him to bail on the date, would he? you’re not cruel enough to do that to him and his date. they could be soulmates for all you know.

“and what? you’ll come entertain me?” your eyes squint, “go enjoy your date, 305. we’ll be here.”

before you know it, he’s out the door and you’re left wondering what if.

—

jungkook didn’t realize how much of a disaster the date was going until his date seated across from him rolls her eyes.

“i’m sorry … am i boring you with my story?” he was telling her how he had to help you break into your own apartment because you forgot to bring your keys in the middle of the night.

“it just seems like you’re wasting both our times.” she says and places her drink down. her red manicured fingers circle the rim of her cup.

he’s confused. jungkook has been doing his best to keep the date afloat by talking and asking questions. he thought it’s been going well, minus the couple of times he checked his phone to see if he got any emergency texts from you about bam.

“i mean, why are you here when you clearly like someone else?”

“i don’t get—wait, what?”

“your neighbor 007 or whatever.” she says. it’s the wrong number and she knows it, but wants to see if jungkook reacts, “you’ve been talking about her all night.”

has he? he was just making light conversation … you’re a part of his life so slipping your name here and there feels natural.

“look, you seem like a nice guy. you’re obviously good looking too. if you’re not looking for anything serious, we can go back to my apartment right now for some fun. but long term? it feels like you have someone waiting at home for you.”

and the mood goes sour. jungkook is used to this. used to his dates objectifying him as a quick and good fuck — granted, he’s played this to his advantage when he was younger. now? it feels meaningless. he isn’t upset at that.

it’s the utter realization that he does have someone special to him and you’ve been right under his nose all this time. he’s always telling you to be honest with your feelings, yet he can’t even bring himself to uphold that advice for whatever reason.

jungkook apologizes to his date again, pays for the tab, and rushes home.

—

home can be a place, but for jungkook, it’s seeing you on his couch and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

bam jumps off your lap to nudge jungkook’s leg for attention.

“has he been good?” jungkook asks while scratching bam’s head, though he stops momentarily at the sight of you stretching and your shirt lifts a little to reveal the curves of your hips.

“mhm, an angel. how was the date?”

he contemplates on lying, but knows better. needs to practice what he preaches.

“bad.”

“oh? wanna talk about it?”

“uh, i kinda fucked it up,” jungkook toes off his shoes and avoids your eye contact.

“classic, first impressions have never been your strongest suit.” you put on your jacket and jungkook panics at the thought of you leaving early. he exhales a breath he’s been holding when you plop back down on his couch where he soon joins you.

“i’m not always that bad.” he mumbles.

“i know, i’m just teasing you.” you reach over to pinch his cheek.

when he doesn’t reply, it gets you a little worried. you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.

“sorry—“

“i kept bringing you up during the date.” he cuts you off.

“oof, no girl wants to hear about another girl …” technically, you’re hoping jungkook doesn’t talk about this one … let alone his previous dates or exes.

“i know,” he murmurs, leans his head back, and sighs, “she … called me out on it.”

“good, as she should.”

jungkook hesitates with his next words, but pushes forward, “said it’s cause i liked you.”

you pause. you could hear a pin drop in the room, minus bam’s paws making contact with the hardwood floor.

“oh … um,” you’re not dumb, you understand what he’s implying. you just don’t know how you’re going to run away from this conversation.

“i know you’re already planning your escape, 307,” he chuckles. his laugh sounds a little melancholy and an instant flood of guilt rushes through you.

“what! no! i-i just don’t know what to say,” you nibble on your lips. you’re fucking scared for what’s to come.

“just hear me out, okay?”

you nod, listen to him clear his throat and exhale a shaky breath.

“i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. maybe it’s cause i’m a creature of habit or whatever … well no, i don’t think it’s that. i like being around you and i’m thankful you’re in my life.” he looks and smiles at you fondly, as if he is preparing himself for the biggest rejection, “i like you … a lot. you don’t have to accept my feelings nor do anything with it. these feelings are mine and i just wanted to be honest with you. at the end of the day, i’d still like to remain friends as long as you’ll allow me.”

you want to fucking cry. he’s always been better at words and expressing himself. you see it in how he treats his friends, his dog, his profession and art … most importantly, you. you also want to be honest with him, but it already seems like he’s accepting the fate of nothing more.

you owe him the truth at least.

“jungkook … i—“ you begin, “i like you a lot too.”

jungkook lets out an exasperating grunt — he thinks you’re pitying him.

“please don’t feel the need to sugarcoat, 307. i just wanted to be—“

you press your lips to his. the kiss was too quick for anyone to process anything. you’ll remember though. you’ll remember his strawberry flavored chapstick, the cold lip piercing barrels, and the way he leans in slightly to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon. jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization that you just kissed him. all too short and he doesn’t think he can stop thinking about you after this anymore even if he tried.

“your feelings are yours,” you hold his hand, “but these are mine too.”

he whispers your name lowly and you shake your head.

“i’m no good with words,” you confess, “i just know that i like you too. but … i’m also a fucking mess, jungkook.”

“huh? no, you’re—“

“yeah, i am. i just got out of something long term … it wouldn’t be good for me to jump into another relationship. i don’t think it’s fair for you to deal with all my baggage when i haven’t sorted myself out.”

he nods, a little dejected but he understands what you mean.

right person, wrong time.

“okay,” he finally says, “nothing will change. friends?”

“friends,” you agree.

it’s a promise out of respect for you. will you regret this? possibly. though, everything feels normal when he walks you to your door later and wishes you a goodnight.

“don’t be fucking weird after tonight. if you avoid me, i’m making you run 10 laps every friday, 307.”

“rude,” you roll your eyes, “i should be saying that to you. don’t be fucking weird or else you’re getting another glitter bomb in the mail.”

“that shit was the worst to get off.”

“funny as hell though.”

“yeah, for you.”

everything feels so natural and safe with jungkook. how he looks at you, laughs at your jokes, eyes twinkle when you do the same for him. you don’t need the night sky when you got galaxies staring back at you.

—

“with all due respect, you’re being stupid.” nayeon says through the speaker.

“how? we both agreed that staying friends would be the best.” you reply a little louder over your sink. your kitchen was overdue for a cleaning and the weekends were the perfect time to catch up on chores.

you’re on the phone with nayeon and it’s a good distraction while you busy yourself with other things at the same time. though, you’re sort of regretting the call now with nayeon berating you for your decision to remain friends with jungkook a month ago.

“people can still date and work on themselves. it’s not a linear thing.”

“yeah, but—“

“you’re just scared. i know you.”

“nayeon …”

“jungkook and dohwan aren’t the same. anyone can get hurt in a relationship, but you shouldn’t deny yourself of something out of fear.”

“yes, but … i don’t think i’d be able to face jungkook if something bad does happen.” you’re serious. running away is your strong suit and you’d move out immediately if shit hits the fan.

“so you’d have no regrets staying like this?”

you don’t reply and that was an answer in itself.

“why are you so hellbent on me and jungkook? i thought you hated him …” it’s sort of funny to be talking to nayeon of all people about jungkook. hell, it’s thanks to jungkook’s mess up on their first tinder date that helped you land your friendship with nayeon.

everything happens for a reason.

“i only hated him cause you did. that’s what friends do, silly. also, if you’re feeling awkward because he and i dated … don’t. there wasn’t anything more. anyways, stop avoiding. you always do this.” she’s right. you’re the queen of avoiding hard conversations.

“i don’t want to lose a friend, nayeon.”

“you won’t. but you’ll lose your chance at experiencing something beautiful, sweetie,” she says, “you owe it to yourself. but hey, i gotta go to my pilates class. i’ll text you later, okay? i love you!”

“okay, love you too. i’m sorry for being difficult. don’t pull a muscle in class!”

“if i do, will you give me a massage?” she laughs, “and no, you’re never difficult. just you being you.”

the call ends and you’re left alone once again with your thoughts. things haven’t really changed between you and jungkook. he’s still his chipper self. you just yearn for more time with him these days. every subtle touch … whether it be his hand on your lower back guiding you upstairs, his fingers brushing yours during the walks, or when he massages your feet upon request sends you into a place where you feel yourself succumbing to your deepest desires.

you want more.

you can tell jungkook does too. he’s unashamed in his affections towards you but he’ll never pressure you or cross that boundary you’ve set.

you realize it hurts to deny yourself of wanting someone who wants you just as equally.

—

you’re at jungkook’s place again one evening. bam is all tuckered out from his walk and jungkook is fixing a bowl of popcorn to snack on while you search through netflix for something to watch.

it’s your pick tonight and you wanted to watch a crime documentary. ghost and thrillers don’t interest you, but crimes? yeah, full body chills because they’re real.

you turn to see jungkook in a big white t-shirt with grey sweats — he looks so comfortable. he’s seasoning the popcorn and catches you staring at him. he shakes his head and smiles back down bashfully at his bowl.

he looks like home … no, he feels like home.

fuck.

you really are torturing yourself.

when jungkook settles onto the couch and the documentary starts, you scoot closer to him. you don’t know if you’re making a fool of yourself, but jungkook pays no mind. his arm circle around you effortlessly and you nestle your cheek into his chest.

so warm — he smells so nice. jungkook sports on a lax expression, yet you can feel and hear the rapid thumps of his heart.

“you sure friends cuddle when they watch shit together?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the television.

“no,” you look up at him, “do you not want to?” you start to move away, but jungkook holds you in place.

he feels your smile through his shirt. yeah, you’re torturing him and he’s enjoying it.

as the documentary plays, jungkook gets immersed in the story. he looks a little silly with his big eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he soaks in all the crime details and backstory. his hand involuntarily moves to massage your scalp and you feel yourself lulled to sleep under his touch.

after a while, he calls your name and gently shakes you awake.

“hey sleepyhead. had a good nap?” he muses.

“mhm, sorry … was so tired from work. did i miss a lot?” you look at the dark television screen and feel guilty.

“just the entire documentary,” he teases, “it’s alright, you wouldn’t be traumatized like me now. i know i’m going to be having nightmares.”

“‘m sorry,” you snuggle closer to him and his breath hitches, “anything i can do to help?”

“hmm …” he holds his thinking pose, “i don’t know, maybe a kiss?”

“just kidding, 307. it’s late, so let’s get you hom—”

“yeah? think a kiss will make you feel better?” you press on.

you knew he was joking, but there’s a surge of confidence coursing in you when you push up on him and he swallows hard. he says your name in warning but he makes no effort to move or push you away. he wants this badly too. been thinking about you and your lips since you last kissed him — never stopped.

“don’t do something you’ll regret.” his hand cradles your cheek.

“i’m not,” your nose brush against his, “i wanna kiss you. please, will you let me?” you ask with pleading eyes and jungkook lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

you look down at his parted lips and back at his hooded eyes. you’re not sure who moved first — it doesn’t matter.

when your lips meet, it’s like heaven and hell collided and made earth — waves crashing onto land, blue horizons, and the smell of pinewood after rain. you don’t think you can let go of this feeling any time soon and when you finally do give into your longings, life feels a little more salvageable … freeing.

jungkook slots his lips between yours, pulling you up to straddle his lap. he moans when your hands tangle in his hair and pulls you in closer if that was even possible.

you lick into his parting mouth when he pants, indulge in the way he sounds as he’s kissing you back. the kiss is hard and passionate — so much more different than the first one you had. there’s a sense of urgency here … like there’s a time constraint or limitation to your affections. you wish you could reassure him; though the best you can do at this moment is to drink him in as much as he allows you to. his hands roam all over your body and you shiver in pleasure when one of his hand travels to the front of your throat possessively. there’s no pressure in his hold, but it’s telling you that you belong here with him.

when you finally do pull away, you plant dainty kisses on the corner of his lips and jaw. he giggles at the tickling feeling and brings your face back to his to give you a much gentler kiss. though you are no longer kissing, your foreheads stay connected in place.

“there, much better, right?” you say breathlessly.

“mhm,” he replies, “should’ve used the trauma card earlier if i knew i’d be getting free kisses.”

your brain is going a mile a second, but you’re sure of this.

“you don’t need to,” you say a little uncertain. jungkook straightens himself in his seated position when he realizes you’re about to say something serious.

“you can kiss me whenever you want … if you want! i know i said we should stay friends, but i think i like you too much to just stay that way. i want to see where things go and i’m fucking scared. i mean, fuck, am i making any sense? please say something,” you’re rambling and jungkook can only smile as you unravel through your confession.

of course he wants more with you.

“just say you want me and go, 307.” he laughs when you pull away cutely. he has no intentions of letting you go and you had no intentions of leaving. it’s too comfortable in his embrace.

“we’ll take things slow, okay?” he kisses your nose in reassurance.

“okay.”

—

fast forward three months, you and jungkook have been dating each other — slow and steady as promised. no official title (yet) but you know he’s exclusively seeing you. you’re enjoying his company and there’s no rush. when there’s something special and secure, it’s all smooth sailing and calm tides. you never have to guess with him.

he feels the same with you.

this marks the 13th weekend date with you and he’s going to do it. jungkook is going to ask you to be his girlfriend. he’s fucking nervous … has a whole date planned: dinner, movies, then back to his place where he’ll officially ask you.

part of him wants to wait for the next weekend because the number 13 was bad luck, but he’s felt nothing but luck with you. luck in the chances of meeting you in this apartment complex, luck in your friendship, and now luck with the prospect of love.

so when your door swings open to reveal you in a short black satin dress, hair done prettily, and your skin dewey and sparkly from your makeup, he knew was going to make 13 lucky no matter what.

“you look beautiful,” jungkook compliments and holds out his hand to walk you down the stairs.

“you don’t look half bad too,” you taunt, taking his warm hand. there’s no malice cause jungkook knows how you feel about him. notices how your eyes rake over his form, has caught you checking him out plenty of times before, felt the way your lips moved on his skin to praise how hot he looked one evening despite him coming back looking like a sweaty hog that’s been run over by a train.

if you’re curious … aside from making out and heavy petting paired with some dry humping sessions here and there, no, they haven’t had sex. probably for the better, it’s already hard enough to separate from each other after every hangout.

slow and steady. you are both fine with that.

“sooo, you gonna tell me where we’re going or is this where you murder me?” you check your lip gloss in the rear view mirror. jungkook’s right hand naturally find its way to your thighs while he drives.

“you’ll find out soon,” he gives you a little squeeze and it sends a little tingle to your core.

—

it’s going terribly.

traffic was absolutely ass for no reason, so they get to their first destination 45 minutes later than anticipated. the restaurant he had reservations for let him know that the kitchen caught on fire the moment he parked in the lot.

okay, fine. to the movies it is.

except, the movie stopped halfway through due to some technical difficulties. he was going to lose his mind, but you were a good sport through it all. jungkook still had one final trick up his sleeve for you.

when you both finally get back to his place with bags of takeout, jungkook lets out a wail of frustration.

“bam, no!”

all the balloons he blew up have been popped. you look past his shoulders to see a torn up sign with the words: wil u e my fren?

bam prances to you and jungkook with his wagging tail, unaware of jungkook’s inner anguish and turmoil. jungkook runs his hands over his face and freezes in place.

“aw baby,” you try comforting jungkook, “it was an accident. bam didn’t know.”

“i know, i just … fuck, gimme a minute.” jungkook stalks over to his bedroom and closes the door. you place the bags of food on the dining table and crouch down to pet bam.

“you really upset your dad, bammie. he worked really hard on this,” you know bam doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but you’re disappointed for jungkook too. jungkook really put in the effort and you’re touched by it all. he really wants you and you want nothing more than to be his.

you feed bam his dinner and set the takeout in the fridge, unsure of when you and jungkook will be ready to eat.

hesitantly, you knock on jungkook’s door. know you don’t need his permission to come in — you’ve slept over plenty of times, but still do it out of courtesy.

“can i come in, kook?”

a moment of silence ensues before you hear a little, “… yeah.”

jungkook was on his bed, feet still on the floor with his arms sprawled out. poor boy.

you climb onto bed next to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

he’s visibly upset — not at you of course. he just wanted to make this special.

“that was fucking cute. no one has ever done that for me before.” you say. the best you got from dohwan were a bouquet of roses sent to your workplace. jungkook’s efforts superseded your expectations.

“which part? no dinner, no movies, or the shit show of a sign?”

“all of it.”

“pff, don’t lie.” he sulks.

you throw your leg over his torso to straddle his waist.

“i’m not! you’re so fucking sweet,” you move down to kiss his cheek when he doesn’t look up at you.

“come on, don’t you want my answer?” you place his hands on your hips, wanting him to touch you somewhere.

he cocks his brow at you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“fine fine, i’ll be your ‘fren’ if that’s what you want.”

he covers his face in embarrassment, “ugh, that shit was so humiliating. bam isn’t getting any treats for the next three days.”

“hey! don’t punish my baby. it was an honest mistake.” you reassure him, “plus, i gave him an earful.” yeah, and his dinner right after. it’s no wonder bam likes you a lot more these days.

“okay, okay … i’m still sorry about today. nothing went accordingly.” jungkook sighs and rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“you’re not allowed to punish yourself either,” you say a matter of fact, “did you mean it though?” you look at him through your lashes.

“hm?”

“want me as your girlfriend?” when you finally say those words, it sets off a bundle of butterflies in your stomach.

jungkook quickly sits up, holding you securely so you don’t topple over, “of course, i do. just wanted to make it special for you.”

you felt fucking special.

so fucking special in how you said yes, saw how he beamed at your answer, kisses you silly, tongue running down your neck, the little bites on your collarbone — you’re on cloud 9.

he involuntarily drags your hips over his clothed length and you whimper upon contact.

“you hungry, baby? we didn’t have dinner yet,” jungkook asks innocently through his heavy breaths, but you’re too busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt. how could he possibly think about food at a time like this? then again, you have to remember he’s the biggest foodie known to earth. he’s caring of your wellbeing so of course he’d worry if you’re hungry.

he’s also your boyfriend now.

you shake your head. you don’t just want him — you need him.

you slide off of him and are on your knees in between his legs. he looks at you through his heavy lids when you clock your head to the side, waiting for the green light to take off his pants.

“you’ve been so good to me, planning this date … lemme show you how thankful i am.”

jungkook loves being praised and rewarded. he especially loves it even more coming from you. he lets out a moan when you run your hand down his clothed bulge. yes, jungkook has had sex before — honestly, don’t ask him about his body count … he’s not sure either. what he’s sure is that he loses all senses when you touch him — like a virgin touched for the very first time.

his pants are down and kicked off to the side, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, and head thrown back when you settle between his legs to give his hard length a squeeze.

he’s so fucking big in your hand and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his precum leaking from the slit of his cock. fuck, you don’t know how he’s going to fit in your mouth, but it doesn’t matter. you’re going to make him come undone one way or another.

“baby, i’m literally going to nut if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you laugh, “how long are you going to last inside me then?”

“fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”

“why not?” you press a small kiss on his hip bone and pump his cock with your hand. his eyes closes and mouth drops open at the change of movement.

“gonna nut even faster,” he chuckles.

jungkook hisses when you lick a long stripe underneath his shaft without warning. one of his hand reaches behind your head for support while the other one grips his bedsheets.

“oh god,” he lets out a small moan when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to bob your head at a pace that has him seeing stars.

his cock was lathered with your spit and his precum. the sounds you made while you sucked him off were nearly pornographic. his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when his cock hits the back of your throat.

“shit, oh f-fuck,” his fingers are caught in your hair and your moans vibrate against him when he gently pushes your head down while he fucks up into your mouth.

if you keep going like this, he wasn’t going to last long and he really wants to … can’t bring himself to cum in your mouth just yet. he really wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut quick, so he pulls you away when he nearly cums. you breathe heavily through your swollen lips. jungkook runs his thumb on your cheeks where some mascara has smeared as a result of your doing.

you’re still so fucking perfect.

he lifts you from your kneeled position back onto his lap and kisses you slow and tenderly. jungkook whines into your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. your dress has ridden up on your waist, the the thin straps are loose and off your shoulders.

“i somehow fucked up the entire night and you still decided to give me the best head? must really like me or something,” jungkook looks at you endearingly and takes notice of how you’re rutting yourself onto his length.

“you know i do. my boyfriend deserves the best.” jungkook’s heart soars at hearing the word boyfriend leave your lips.

yes, he’s yours.

you shake in pleasure as you roll your hips deliciously slow on him. you’re practically soaked through your thin panties.

“did you get this wet just by sucking me off, baby?”

you nod and trail kisses on his cheeks and jaw, “all for you, kook. you always make me this wet.”

he takes so much pride in how he’s able to get you all worked up like this.

jungkook wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight, but it’s like you said … it’s special. the rest of your clothing join his in a pile on the ground. he rolls you onto your back and drinks in your naked form. you shy away from his stares and kiss up at him.

your hand reach between you both while he continues to kiss you and you position his still-hard cock in between your folds for that additional friction. the wet clicks mixes in with both your pantings and synchronized moans. every time the head of his cock slides and catches onto your swollen clit, you shudder and arch your back in pleasure.

“want you to fuck me,” you kiss his pouty lips and down his neck, “please?”

jungkook leans back a little, sits on the heels of his feet, and pushes your thighs close to your chest. the angle lets him move and slide your hips up and down his length even more. you gasp and call out his name in wanton.

he drops your legs down and closes the distance between you both again. his bare chest brushes against yours and he lines his cock at your entrance.

“you’re so perfect,” his breath fans over your face, “so lucky to have you.” jungkook swoops his arms under you in a tight embrace. you look at him through your glassy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

your heart swells at his words.

there’s little to no resistance when jungkook finally enters you.

it’s a mixture of sweet, nasty, loving, and primal desire how jungkook fucks you into his sheets. he hates loud sex, but he wants to hear all of you. the way you mewl, whimper, cry, and breathe — all of it.

and when you wrap your legs around him and coax him into cumming inside you while your fingers trace the planes of his back, he knows he’s done for.

you giggle, nudge your forehead on his, hold his hand, and kiss all over his face. the afterglow on you both is stunning.

“you’re right, you didn’t last long at all.” you hum. jungkook raises one of his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. it’s a fucking lie since jungkook knows he made you cum at least twice in the span of fucking you, but who would you be if you didn’t try challenging him a little?

he doesn’t have to say anything before slipping down your body and burying his face in between your legs. he licks up your slit tentatively, watches your brows furrow and mouth part, and moans into your heat when your hand travels to his head to push him down as he did to you.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere,” jungkook means it both literally and figuratively. doesn’t understand how anyone could part from you. it’s their loss.

he continues lapping up your mixed essence, nipping at your inner thighs on occasion when your hips jerk away from the pleasure.

“kook, mmph- yes! just like that,” you encourage when he wraps his lips around your clit. he sucks, soothes, and makes out with your messy cunt. he wanted to draw out the night longer, toy and dangle your pleasure in front of you as a punishment for your teasing. knows he’s the reason you’re this wet, can’t bring himself to edge you on a special night like this — maybe another time when he’s feeling more mean. he has all the time in the world with you; there’s no rush.

tonight is all about you, his girlfriend — his.

“so close, baby,” you look down, hips stuttering under his hold as he doesn’t let up with his ministrations on your clit. he trails his fingers at your entrance, coating them with your juices before entering you slowly.

“yeah? won’t you give me another one? come on, i know you can do it,” he says between bated breaths. you shake and arch your back, mouth parts open but no sound comes out as you let the waves of pleasure ride over. the squelching sounds increase as his fingers fuck into you faster.

“i-i’m fucking cumming,” you cry out and jungkook nods in acknowledgement, moaning with you to draw out your orgasm. when you come for the third time that night, he wants to paint the image in his memory and revisit it on a rainy day. no promises that he won’t sport a hard on every time. the sight of you quivering, hands squeezing your chest and rolling your nipples between your fingers to prolong the pleasure, has his head spinning. jungkook trails kisses down your pussy, takes his fingers out and licks them clean before spreading you wider to clean you up with his tongue. he only part ways with your cunt when you whine for him.

he comes back up your body slowly, presses his lips on your tummy and giggles when you squirm from the sensation. however, when he is finally face to face with you again, jungkook has on this determined look.

he can’t seem to get enough of you and your body. addicted, he is.

“you’re not done with me, aren’t you?” you give him that pretty post-orgasmic smile.

never, he thinks.

jungkook was about to reply until the rumbles of your stomach cuts through the silence. it should be embarrassing but you feel close enough to jungkook that you both laugh at how unserious the situation is.

“come on baby, let’s go eat our dinner.” he pulls you up and puts you in one of his oversized t-shirts.

you still believe your ideal neighbor should be mindful, quiet, and kind. jungkook was certainly not mindful, quiet, or kind with how he entered into your life.

though, he wasn’t just someone who’d be your neighbor by the law of attraction and the cosmic pull of the universe.

love is patient, love is kind.

you know you’ve found your home — you just never expected it to be right next door.

fin.

—

a/n: tadaaaaaa. what’d you think? 😜

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: I | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,213

—  warnings: strong language, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of blood, several mentions of abortion, and crying

—  author’s note: here it is the first chapter of this series! <3 i’m actually very excited about this entire universe, i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve been taking my time to write each part 🤗 the beginning is inspired by Jane the Virgin and the Flash as they are both my favorite shows ✨ i hope you’ll enjoy this part & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 😊  

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Chapter I: when worlds collide

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Sitting in your car, you’ve been looking blinkingly at the windshield, hands trembling against the steering wheel. For ten whole minutes, you’ve been frozen like this as if moving would shatter the fragile sense of calm you’ve barely managed to hold together.

Your life is about to drastically change; you know it deep down.  

“The deed is done,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, and your reflection in the rearview mirror catches your eye. You look exhausted, your eyes wide and glistening.

For two years, this moment has been building. You have thoughtfully considered having a child on your own. At first, it was just a random thought that crossed your mind, a curiosity born on one of those quiet, lonely moments where life felt both too much and not enough. Then, you deeply thought about it. The idea rooted itself deep within you, anchoring into something raw and tender: a longing to create a family on your own terms. 

After much research and consideration, you decided to go for it.

Many people couldn’t understand your choice, but honestly, you don’t give two shits about others’ opinions. What did matter to you was the support of close family and friends.

Felix, the man who raised you after your parents were stolen from you, proposed to accompany you to the fertility clinic, but you gently declined his offer. This was something you wanted to do by yourself. Well, you just came alone to be inseminated. Other than that, he has been by your side every step of the way.

He helped you to go through the countless donor profiles, and every document needed for this adventure of yours.

The process was a bit long and emotionally draining. The first steps were more like an evaluation, mostly for the clinic to understand your reasons and ensure you’ve deeply thought about all the aspects. Having a kid alone isn’t just about fulfilling your dreams but also about building a life for a child.

Once you’ve successfully completed those steps, you had to choose the donor. There were a lot of choices; it was like going grocery shopping. You were handed a catalog of potential donors with their medical histories and first names. It felt odd to be choosing the progenitor like this. After going through every profile, one of them stood out.

Following the donor selection, your cycles and hormone levels were tracked. When all was good, you’d get inseminated on your ovulation period, which technically is happening this week.  

So, ten minutes ago, you walked out of the clinic after being artificially knocked up.

If your egg is fertilized, in nine months, you’ll welcome your very much desired baby. A tiny human who will call you mom. You already picked the names, one for a girl, one for a boy. You simply can’t wait to welcome a tiny human in your life. Hopefully, the life of your baby will be better than yours.

You lean your head against the steering wheel, closing your eyes as the ghosts of your past surface.

Twenty years ago, your life was turned upside down when a terrible murderer put an end to your parents’ lives. Nobody ever found him or her; it’s like the person completely vanished into the night. That person left behind a little girl with questions nobody could ever answer and scars nobody could understand.  

Since you didn’t have any family left, you were raised by your father’s best friend, Felix. Over time, he became like a second father to you. Even though you were full of anger when he took you over, he stayed by your side and helped you navigate this sad reality; one where your parents weren’t part of anymore.

His daughter, Lexi is your age. You were already so close, and living under the same roof brought you even closer. She’s your super best friend, almost like a sister today. A smile grows on your face as you think of her. Your life would have been a nightmare without her.

Lexi was the first person to be aware of this desire to become a single mother. She even pushed you to do it as soon as you could, and she has encouraged you like nobody else. She also helped you select a donor; she even made fun of the names of some of them.

Your phone buzzes; the name and picture of Lexi appearing on the screen.

“Hi,” you say when you pick up.

“Soo,” she says. “How did it go?”

“Good, I guess?” you say with clear hesitation. “The doctor just inserted a thin catheter, looked at the screen, and said it was done,” you explain. “Now we just have to wait.”

Waiting is now the worst part, especially since you decided not to take any pregnancy test until the next appointment. Meaning, you have to wait two full weeks.

“Let’s hope the donor’s little swimmers are good ones,” she says.

While you always wanted to have a kid, Lexi never wanted one. You and her are total opposites but that’s what helped create such a strong bond between you. “Yeah, let’s hope for that,” you smile.  

Two weeks later

A couple of days ago, you took a blood test, and now, you’re in the waiting room, patiently waiting for the doctor to call you up.

These past two weeks, you’ve been internally battling to take a pregnancy test. It’s been hard to fight the urge to discover beforehand if you’re expecting or not. On your way to the clinic, your heart was beating extremely fast with nervousness. Even the music playing in the car didn’t seem to calm you down.

Even though you’re extremely nervous, a part of you knows. You can’t explain it, but you feel it deep down. Two nights ago, you were lying in bed completely exhausted after an intense day at work. The rhythm of your heartbeat was rocking you to sleep. Amidst the thrum of your own heart, you swear you could hear a faint, smaller, and quicker rhythm.

You instantly opened your eyes, scanning the room. The sound wasn’t coming from outside. It felt like it was inside you. You stayed perfectly still, listening to that tiny sound. That night, you were rocked to sleep by that new rhythm.

The morning after, as you caught your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, something felt off. Your brows furrowed as you noticed your own scent was different. It felt like it was mixed with somebody else’s scent, but it wasn’t as strong as yours or any other living human. It was extremely odd.

After a little while, the doctor says your name, and with shaky legs, you walk to her office. Your heart is beating at a very crazy pace, ready to burst at any moment. This is so stressful; it feels like time is moving so slowly.

“Hello yn,” the doctor smiles at you while you’re entering the room. “How have you been feeling?” you now take a seat.

“I’m good, thanks,” you smile back at her.

She sits down at her desk and takes a look at her computer.

“So, did you take any pregnancy test?” she asks.

“No, no,” you answer. “I wanted to keep the surprise for today.”

“I see,” she looks again at her screen before taping on her keyboard.

She seems to quickly read something before her smile widens. Your heart is going completely crazy. It really makes you nervous, and you try to mentally prepare yourself to receive the bad news as well. It’ll definitely break your heart but you’ll try again.  

This entire process is quite expensive, but the payment can be spread out over time rather than made in one shot. With this first payment, you have the right to three attempts. If pregnancy isn’t achieved after those attempts, you’ll have to go through another round and pay for additional attempts.

The doctor mentioned that usually, it takes about three to six attempts to achieve a successful pregnancy. Hopefully, you’ll get pregnant within those first three tries. You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to afford another round of insemination.   

“Well, it looks like it only took you one try to conceive,” she informs you.

And right there, your heart bursts with joy. There’s indeed a little human being growing inside you. You’ll become a mother in nine months. You can’t believe it.

A little tear runs down your face as you hear the good news. It’s such a relief. You won't have to worry about coming back for another round.

“That’s good news,” you clean the tear on your cheek.

“It is indeed,” she says. “In four weeks more or less, we’ll plan an ultrasound to confirm the embryo’s implantation and check for a heartbeat,” she adds.

Well, you’ll still get worried about that because maybe until there, your baby will not survive. But you need to remain positive. No need to start stressing about it; you promised yourself that you’ll try to remain calm the entirety of the process and pregnancy so you’ll offer a great beginning of life to your baby.

“I’m very hopeful everything will go well because both you and the donor are in good health,” she says.

“Let’s hope for that,” you answer.

You then proceed to schedule the next appointment in four weeks. You can’t hide the immense smile on your face. This is the best news you got today. Nothing else will ever be possible to ruin this day.

When you leave the clinic, you instantly call Lexi.

“I AM PREGNANT!” you scream with excitement.

“Yeeeah,” she screams as well. “I’m going to be an aunty!” she adds.

“I’m so relieved that this first attempt was successful,” you admit.

Once you get inside your car, you touch your belly to caress it.

“That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother,” she says after. “And even more lucky to join our family.”

For sure, your family will extremely love this baby. It’s such a desired baby, and everybody has been so excited.

“They’ll be so loved,” you reply.

“There’s absolutely no doubt,” she says. “Dad will be so happy about this news; he’s been so excited to become a grandpa.”

Felix has expressed lately that he couldn’t wait to welcome a baby and become a granddad. This man has raised you for twenty years, and you consider him as a second father. There’s no doubt that your baby will see him as their grandfather even if, biologically speaking, he isn’t.

When you hang up, you stare into the void for a couple of minutes. In this moment, you wish your parents would be here. They would have been so happy to become grandparents, but they won’t be by your side for this new chapter of your life.

They are also the reason why you’re doing all of this. Since they passed, there’s been a tremendous emptiness inside you that even the love of Felix couldn’t fill in. This void stems mostly from the fact that you were left alone when they were killed. You’ve been feeling so lonely since then.

Throughout your life, you tried to fill it with relationships but they all failed. As far as you can remember, you wanted to follow the traditional path to build a family. However, it never worked out. Then, one day, you saw a brochure about single mothers, and you’ve been thinking about it since then.

You’ve seen motherhood as a role that will fill this emotional void you’ve been carrying for years. Plus, you’ve also seen it as a way to finally control your life. Twenty years ago, someone decided for you what your life would become. This wasn’t fair.

And you also want to give your baby the life you never got. You want to give them a loving family that won’t disappear the second the parents die. Outside of your parents, you didn’t have a family. Based on what Felix told you, your grandparents were against your parents' relationship so they moved into another city to live freely and build a family.

Life hasn’t been fair for you, but you want to make it fair for your baby.

Two weeks later

The clinic called you this morning to urgently come in the afternoon, only making you grow concerned during the day. You kept wondering what the reason for such urgency would be. Did they notice something when they did the blood test? Did they get the wrong blood test? Are you even really pregnant? 

However, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re carrying a life inside you. You haven’t had the ‘normal’ early symptoms yet, but you can feel your baby inside you. The faint heartbeat can still be heard, and there’s still that subtle scent interwoven with yours.

For the past two weeks, you’ve repeatedly inhaled this new scent, almost to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Most of the time, you wondered if it wasn’t something like blood, sweat, or the smell of your new shampoo. It was definitely an earthly one. One that only a human can possess.

Once inside the clinic, you’re instantly installed in the doctor’s room. Your heart is crazily beating inside your chest; you’re so nervous right now. Seconds later, a man joins you in the room.

At first glance, you’d think he is the CEO of a huge company. He’s fully dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, his hands casually placed in his pants pockets. This man is extremely charismatic; something about him draws you in.  

The man looks at you while frowning, his eyes moving from your eyes to your belly. By reflex, you cover your stomach with your hands. He’s making you uncomfortable with his intense stare.

He has a very strong bestial scent, it predominates his cologne. Everything about him is imposing, even the way his heart beats; it’s so calm while yours is completely erratic. The man’s eyes are clued on you.

The doctor arrives right after and closes the door behind her. Her face is quite serious; she even seems concerned.

“Miss y/l/n,” she takes a seat at her desk. “Mister Jeon,” she looks at the man behind you. “Please take a seat.”

The two of you sit down next to each other with apprehension. You can hear his heart beating a little faster, but he remains extremely calm on the outside.  

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The doctor pauses, giving you time to absorb the gravity of the statement. Her tone is gentle, but at the same time professional.  

The sterile, cold walls of the room seem to close in around you as the doctor’s words pierce through your thoughts.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” your breath is caught in your throat, your hands trembling. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

Your eyes look at the man sitting next to you. All you can see in his eyes is the same disbelief that reflects your own. So, this is your child’s father.  

Many questions cross your mind, but they remain unspoken, lodged in your throat.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

You desired nothing more than being alone in this adventure; you didn’t want a present father. That was the whole point of a donor. Now, you know the father of your child, and he’d probably like to be present.

For the past months, you went through a series of questions regarding the fact that you’ll raise your child alone. They asked you many times how you’d explain to your child that they don’t have a father. This now feels like a complete waste of time.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment’s costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

Those words seem so heavy and yet, they represent the reality of the choice you now have to face. A knot tightens in your stomach at the thought of undoing something you wished for so long. The baby is now growing inside of you, you’ve got used to falling asleep with their tiny heartbeat. The only thought of not having it anymore breaks your heart beyond comprehension.

Right now, everything—your carefully constructed plans, your hopes, the small life growing inside you—seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Mister Jeon is silent beside you, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He seems as stunned as you, but you can’t help but think that there’s something else there too. Something deeper and darker.

You ignore if he’s thinking the same thing as you, but you can feel it: the strange twist of fate pulling you both into an unknown world, one you both hadn’t planned for.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

Time seems irrelevant now. There’s a choice you need to make; a choice you didn’t expect to face. You swallow hard, your heart racing inside your chest. Your hands caress your belly through your shirt while you only hear the baby’s fragile heartbeat.

This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t be real.

Jungkook’s face went pale as the doctor’s words sank in.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

Just like you, the room’s white walls feel suffocating, the air thick with a tension he can’t shake. A mistake. His mistake. He tried to avoid this situation. He was supposed to go through surrogacy to guarantee a child that would uphold his lineage. His werewolf lineage, pure and untouched by human blood.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” the doctor’s words hang up in the air like a death sentence. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

His eyes quickly look at you, and he notices how much you’re shaking. It seems like you’re in a more devasted state than he is.  

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

Jungkook blinks, trying to absorb what is happening. A human child. Nonetheless, his child. Having children with humans isn’t just a personal choice; it’s a fundamental rule of the werewolf society. The very foundation of his power as the king depends on the purity of his bloodline. To break the rule is to risk everything.

He knows better than anyone what happens to the werewolf-human hybrid kids together with the parents. They are killed by the pack. Being a king doesn’t make him the exception to the rule. If this pregnancy goes to full term, not only will he be killed, but the baby and the lady sitting next to him will too.  

You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t deserve to die because of a mistake. 

His gaze filled with frustration and panic moves toward you once more as his pulse quickens. He wanted control over the situation. He never intended to father a hybrid child. And now, not only is he involved in this pregnancy, but the child is going to carry his blood mixed with human genetics. God only knows what can happen to this kid, genetically speaking.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

‘This can’t be happening’, he thinks.

His eyes move back to the doctors, his hands clenched into fists. The thought of the entire werewolf community learning of this is unbearable. And what is his mother going to think of this?

She was the first person to support him in this surrogacy journey. She knew how important it was for him to have a child as soon as possible because he’d been struggling to find someone with whom he’d mate. Having an heir is the first thing a king should do to ensure the legacy.

Now, he’s about to have a child with a human. That’s not possible. This child won’t have a pure bloodline, this child can’t ever be an heir.     

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

The idea of termination seems dreadful, but the possibility of a hybrid child heir seems even worse. His responsibility as king, and the traditions that have been in place for centuries don’t allow for such breach. To raise a kid with human blood would mean instant disgrace, not only for him but for his entire family. How could he even be respected after this?

His entire world is slipping through his fingers. His position as king is now in jeopardy. This baby will destabilize the entire werewolf community. Nobody will respect him and will only see him as weak. Weak for having a human child.

There’s no going back. His mind tries to find a solution to fix this, or how to undo this. The idea of raising a child with a human—no matter how much it is his responsibility—is unthinkable. He never desired this and hasn’t even considered it. He has been so focused on maintaining his bloodline that the idea of a mistake happening never crossed his mind.

Your presence beside him destabilizes him beyond comprehension. He can see the confusion in your eyes mixed with disbelief. You can’t comprehend the extension of this entire problem. You can’t even comprehend the danger of mixing bloodlines, because you aren’t a werewolf.

Jungkook stands in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Terminating this pregnancy isn’t something he desires, but having a child with a human is simply impossible. His heart beats too crazily, and he can hear yours beating just as fast. His heart and duty are pulling him in two different directions.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. His voice is soft but it carries a heavy weight. “We need to decide. This affects both of us.”

After what felt like an eternity, you both leave the room completely shaken up by the news you just got. How could this be happening?

As you’re both walking in the clinic in the parking lot’s direction, none of you dares to speak. You’re a complete stranger to Jungkook. All he knows is that you’re a human carrying his child. 

“I can’t have that child,” he finally breaks the silence.

His words cause you to stop.

“It’s too early for me to consider terminating this pregnancy,” you admit. “I need time.”

Jungkook understands your perspective. It’s not a decision you lightly take, especially if you’ve come to this clinic to have a child. It’d be completely absurd to abort after going through this entire process.

“Of course,” he says. “But I want you to know my point of view.”

You nod, understanding his perspective as well. This is such a horrible situation. Jungkook wanted to have an heir while you simply wanted to have a child on your own. On top of that, he doesn’t look like the donor you selected.

“So if I decide to keep it, would you be out?” you ask.

Jungkook considers your words. There’s a possibility that the baby could still exist, but he wouldn’t be part of their life. He’d still be losing because he wants a child, but at least this way, his position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and no one would get hurt or killed.  

“It’s possible,” he honestly answers.

You nod once more. Even though he decides not to be part of his child’s life, he’d still know that he has a kid somewhere. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding you; he already knows your smell, and he has the means to find you.

“Okay,” you say.

Jungkook watches you take a pen and paper from your purse before writing something.

“This is my phone number,” you hand him the piece of paper. “In case you change your mind or take a decision.”

The man takes the piece of paper while you give him a small smile. You start walking away, his eyes following you until you disappear inside a car.

In this situation, he definitely would like to ask his mother for advice, but he can’t. He already knows the answer she’ll give him. ‘This baby can’t exist.’ And she’s right, but he can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy. It’s your body after all.

In the eventuality that you decide to proceed with the pregnancy, he guesses he’ll let you be a mother alone and pretend like this kid doesn’t exist.

You’ve spent the last two days crying in bed. The conversation with the doctor and this mysterious Mister Jeon has been playing over and over in your head. You can still picture everything so clearly; the white walls of the doctor’s room, the apologies from the doctor, and Mister Jeon’s piercing gaze.

‘There’s been a mistake,’ ‘There was a mix-up with the sample,’ the words still echo in your mind.

You’ve been trying to make sense of how such a monumental mistake has happened. But nothing seems to make sense. The clinic did this; the clinic took control over your decision. This chapter of your life was about you gaining control, but once more, someone decided for you. It’s been making you angry.

You’re furious at the clinic and their negligence. You trusted them with your project of building your own family. However, they decided otherwise.  

But underneath that anger, there’s another fury; one directed to yourself. You were so focused on having a child on your own terms that you didn’t stop to consider the what-ifs. You didn’t stop to consider that something might go wrong. And now, you are here.    

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours now, your mind trying to find a solution. Do you keep this baby? Do you terminate the pregnancy?

This choice feels impossible. It feels like no matter what your life will completely change.  

But deep down, you somehow feel some kind of relief. Because when Mister Jeon—this intense and charismatic man—said there was a possibility he’d walk away, that he’d leave you to raise this child alone, you felt lighter.

His potential absence is appealing. It aligns with your original choice, to be a single mother. A choice where your child is yours, and yours alone. But then, there’s also a possibility where he stays, or that he comes back later. What would happen then?

You press your hands against your face while a guttural growl leaves your lips. This is so damn frustrating. This should be simple. Because now, you’re left wondering what you want. Do you want to walk away from this and stick to the original plan? Or do you want to embrace this chaos, and see where this might lead?

Your hands slide down to your stomach, caressing it while you hear again the tiny heartbeat. This sound comforts you which makes you close your eyes.

For now, you don’t have any answers to all your questions. You’re not even sure you’ll have them tomorrow. For now, you’ll let yourself breathe. You’ll let yourself feel. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the answers.  

The sound of your phone ringing pushes you out of your own thoughts, informing you that you received a message. You sit on your bed before grabbing the phone on the nightstand. You received a message from an unknown number. By curiosity, you unlock your phone to read it. To your surprise, it’s the famous and mysterious Mister Jeon.  

From unknown: hi miss y/l/n, this is jeon jungkook, the father of your child. i’d like to meet you to discuss the matter. would you be free tonight?

Your heart hammers inside your chest, ready to burst at any second. He contacted you sooner than expected. You were thinking that you wouldn’t hear anything from him for at least a week. You thought you’d have more time to make a decision before meeting him. Now, it seems you don’t, and that you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him tonight.

With shaky hands, you start typing your answer.

To unknown: hello mister jeon, we could meet tonight

When you press ‘send’, you stare at the conversation, waiting for an answer. Mister Jeon responds instantly to your message, proposing to meet in a town square. You accept the suggestion and quickly go to your clothes cupboard to pick up an outfit.

The man seems very impressive, and you want to be presentable. He’s after all the progenitor of the life growing inside you.

A couple of hours later, you take the road to the meeting point. Surprisingly, you’ve remained calm for the entire drive. Driving is actually the only thing able to calm your tormented soul. Whenever you go through something very intense, you just drive to clear your mind.

However, since this pregnancy thing, even driving hasn’t been able to help you out. You tried to drive yesterday, but it only made things worse. So it definitely surprises you that you’ve been able to clear your mind before meeting Mister Jeon.

When you arrive, he’s already there waiting for you. He’s not wearing a suit, quite the contrary. His outfit is only made of a grey sweater with a blue pair of jeans. His hair isn’t perfectly pushed back as it was two days ago. It feels like you’re meeting a completely different person.

When he sees you, he stands up. As he does so, you notice he holds a box in his right hand. It’s a small one, but it still intrigues you.

“Good evening, miss y/l/n,” he says.

“Good evening, mister Jeon,” you say back.

His presence is still very imposing, but the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit anymore changes it a bit. He seems more approachable than he was in the clinic.

“Please call me Jungkook,” he offers you a small smile.

It’s the first time you see him smiling, and it feels like a very warm one. Beneath it all and in the midst of the city noise, you can perceive his heartbeat. It’s quite rapid which makes you tilt your head. Is he nervous?

“You can call me yn as well,” you smile back at him.  

“I’ve brought you a box with some pastries,” he hands you the box. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Your smile grows wider at his simple but heartwarming gesture. This wasn’t expected, but it lightens the mood. Jungkook seems to be a nice person which contrasts with the cold and unreadable person he seemed two days ago.

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the little box. “You didn’t need to,” your eyes look up at him.

After that, you both sit down on the bench he was on before you arrived. By the way he rubs his hands on his tights, you can tell that he’s a bit nervous. You try not to overanalyze him, because you know your mind will go crazy, full of questions.

“What is happening is really crazy,” he admits with obvious nervousness. “I never imagined things would go this way,” you nod.

Jungkook looks everywhere, except at you. It seems like he isn’t brave enough to face you, almost like a teenager confessing his love.

“As I told you two days ago, I can’t have this child,” he finally speaks. “I really would love to, but I’d put the three of us in danger.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. What does he mean by ‘putting you in danger’? Does he come from a crazy family? Is he part of the mafia? This is scaring the hell out of you.

“We didn’t know each other up until two days ago, and you don’t deserve to be put in danger because of a stupid mistake the clinic did,” he seems angry when he mentions the mistake. “But I can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your body, and it was also your wish to have a child. I can’t take that away from you.”

It kind of surprises you how respectful he is. Any other man in his position could have forced or paid you to put an end to this pregnancy. It’s really admirable.

“In case you want to keep going with it, I just want you to know that I’ll step away, and I will never come back to reclaim a role I refused from the beginning.”

You wonder what the reasons behind his decision could be. This man desired to have a child but is now refusing to have one with you because of a mistake.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do,” you admit.

His piercing eyes finally look at you. For a split second, you can swear that they were red. Red like blood. This destabilizes you, and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re not sure if you’re being delirious or if this is real.

“I wanted to become a mother, but not like this,” you continue, still destabilized by what you just saw. “So it leaves me wondering what I should do. But if you walk away, I’ll be more tempted to keep the baby because, in the end, it’ll go as I planned.”

In an unexplainable way, this man puts you at ease. It feels like you can confess how you truly feel about this situation without being judged by him. This man exudes serenity which draws you even more to him.

“I get that,” he says.

For a brief moment, you only look at him while your heart peacefully beats in your chest. His dark eyes stare right into your soul, and it feels like the world completely stopped. There’s just the two of you. But Jungkook breaks the contact, looking in another direction.

“If you decide to keep the child and need any financial help, I can give it to you,” he speaks.

This man definitely seems like a good guy, and you wonder even more why he’s walking away from this.

“I won’t,” you answer. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t have any means to take care of the baby.”

For sure you need financial stability to be a single mother, and you would have never embarked on this adventure without having it.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his fluffy hair, avoiding still your gaze. “Can I ask why you want to become a single mom?”

The question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting this man—this stranger—to be interested in you.

“I didn’t have an easy life and I grew up without my parents,” you confess. “Motherhood was something I aspired to have in my life since I’m very young, and I’ve desired to give to my child everything I didn’t have. No matter if it was with someone or alone.”

Your eyes shift from Jungkook to the square full of people. It’s never easy to express out loud and to a complete stranger why you embarked on this adventure. Mentioning your parents is actually never easy; even after all this time.

Suddenly, you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you in complete silence. For once in your life, people’s heartbeats and scents don’t suffocate you. You can hear and smell them, but it’s like it doesn’t matter.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve had those developed skills. You can hear stuff from afar, and you can strongly smell people’s natural body’s scent. Since it’s kind of ‘normal’ to you, you got used to it; but sometimes, and especially when you’re in the middle of heavy crowds, it suffocates you. It becomes simply too much.

This is something you never told anyone, too scared to be judged. Undoubtedly, people would say you’ve gone crazy due to the trauma of losing your parents. Not even Felix or Lexi knows about it. They just think you’re agoraphobic.

However, lately, you’ve been trying to go to some crowded place to overcome this suffocating feeling. You ignore why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve been doing it. It’s still too much, but today, next to this complete stranger, it doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him to offer him a little smile.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Can I also ask you why you’re doing this?” you dare to ask.

Jungkook nods before looking away once more. It definitely looks like it’s hard for him to hold your gaze.

“In my world,” he starts saying. “I have heavy responsibilities, and having a child is one of them. But I can’t have one with anybody. I’m very limited in who is the biological mother so that’s why I can’t have one with you.”

You almost feel offended by his words. In which kind of world can’t you be the mother of his child? It’s completely crazy!

“Oh,” you simply say.

“You could have been the surrogate…” you can hear some kind of chuckle. “But never the progenitor.”

“It’s seems like a tough world.”

His eyes look again at you; you can see that he seems to hesitate with the answer.

“It isn’t,” he finally says. “But it is with me.”

Obviously, he carefully chose his words.

“Well, I hope you’ll find the right mother for your child,” you offer him once more a little smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back at you.

The two of you look back again at the people walking in the town square. They are walking around you, ignoring totally what you’re going through, what tough decision you have to make. They ignore everything about you, just as you ignore everything about them…  

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he adds.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer. “It’s the clinic’s.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the people walking in front of you. His heart is racing and piercing through your ears. He’s even more nervous than he was before, and it concerns you a bit. But you don’t say anything, too afraid to scare him off if you reveal you can hear his heartbeat.  

“Yn…” he starts. “There’s something you need to know,” his voice is deep and low at the same time. It’s so low that it almost drowns out by the distant chatter of people passing by.

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing. “Okay,” you whisper.  

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he exhales. His eyes don’t meet yours immediately, but when he does, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“When I said my world is different,” he swallows with difficulty. “I don’t mean it in a metaphorical sense. My world, my reality is not the same as yours.”

You frown even more, confusion plastered all over your face. You’re definitely incredibly confused. How could his world be different than yours? You live on the same planet, and breathe the same air. How could it be not the same?  

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gets closer, his voice dropping even lower, barely audible. However, you still hear it perfectly.

“I am not entirely human, yn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You stare at him while waiting for him to elaborate. However, Jungkook just stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’?” you tilt your head.

For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t speak, almost as if he’s scared to reveal his true nature to you.

“I’m a werewolf.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. It leaves you wondering if this man is of sound mind. Right now, you’re slightly concerned about his mental health, and the future of your child, if you keep them.

Your first reaction is to laugh, dismissing his words as if it is some kind of twisted joke. But the look on his face tells you that he’s deadly serious. This isn’t a joke.

“A werewolf?” you repeat to make sure you hear it well.

Jungkook nods. He looks tense and he maintains his deep glance on you.

“It’s why I can’t have this child,” he starts to explain. “In my world, bloodlines matter. Werewolf bloodlines are sacred, and the continuation of my lineage isn’t just about having a child. It’s about having the right child with the right kind of mother.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a tidal wave. You stand up, your hands running through your hair. Your mind is spinning, and your pulse thunders in your ears. This is something you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today.

Werewolves? You’re carrying the child of a werewolf?

This sounds like it comes straight from a fantasy movie.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whisper to yourself but Jungkook hears it.  

“I didn’t want you to be dragged into this world, but you deserve the truth.”

You keep your back turned to him while you cross your arms against your chest.

“This is something you need to consider if you decide to keep the baby.”

At his words, you freeze. Instinctively, your hands down move to your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes follow your hands.

“Is this…” your voice trembles. “Is this a viable child?”

If you want to keep going with this pregnancy, you need to know if this baby can survive.

“There wouldn’t be any reason why this child wouldn’t survive because of mixed blood,” he stands up and gets close to you. “But as they grow up, they’ll develop werewolf abilities. And, one day, they’ll probably turn into one. It’s pretty unpredictable, though. There’s never been a human-werewolf hybrid before.”

Damn, this is leaving you speechless. How can this be real? Werewolves are supposed to exist in movies, not in real life.   

“This is insane,” you rub your hands on your face. “This can’t be real.”

Jungkook steps closer. His presence is grounding but nonetheless overwhelming.  

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you demand, your voice filled with panic.  

Before you can blink, he gets even closer to you. He’s in front of you in an instant, his hand gently grabbing yours. Your eyes look down at his hand as you notice it changing. His fingers elongate, his nails sharpen into claws, and the texture of his skin turns into something more beastly. Slowly, your eyes look up, and what you see completely freezes your body.  His eyes glow a deep, predatory red, and there’s something undeniably wolfish about them.

You take a step back while setting your hand free. As you do so, Jungkook shifts back, his hand returns to its normal form, and his eyes fade back to a human form. The transformation is so quick that it almost feels like you imagined it.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Jungkook’s gaze softens at your words.

“That depends on you, yn.”

Please note that the taglist is closed

[sparklysung]

✨SHARING IS CARING - l.d.h.✨

© sparklysung – 2024. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader

genre – smut, fluffish | non-idol!au, roommates!au, friends (?) to lovers!au

warnings – oral (m. and f. receiving), face sitting, cum eating, squirting, exhibitionism (reader touches hyuck while he's on a call with his friends), unprotected sex (pls don't), lots of cursing, mentions of hyuck masturbating to the thought of reader), a little possessiveness at the end, panty thief!hyuck.

word count – 5.733 words

summary – where your roommate from hell is also hot as hell, and both of you enjoy annoying the hell out of each other.

note – so... i've been working –on and off but still– on this for about maybe 2 years? i just recently got inspiration to finish it lol any feedback would be greatly appreciated, just pls be kind <3 anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this!

“hey, y/n. have you seen my-.”

“how fucking rude of you to just walk in unannounced. what if i was naked or something? learn how to knock, you airhead.”

your face turned into an ugly scowl when your roommate and the cause of all your nightmares –and wet dreams–, lee donghyuck, completely ignored your complaint, looking equally annoyed as you.

“shut up,” the boy sneered, “is that my fucking shirt you have on right now? i’ve been looking for it for the past three days!”

you let your eyes trail down your body, the graphic tee barely long enough to cover your ass as your fingers toyed with the hem of the garment.

“oh, yeah. i found it while doing laundry and thought it looked good on me so i decided to keep it,” you shrugged carelessly, “don’t you agree, hyuck?”

the piece of clothing that was oversized on him fitted even bigger on you, drowning your smaller frame. you looked so soft and warm in it, so incredibly comfy the tip of his fingers itched to touch you. to feel your perky breasts through the soft fabric of his shirt. 

he couldn’t deny it, you did look awfully good in his clothes. 

but he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it out loud. especially to your face.

“i mean yeah you look good,” donghyuck mumbled under his breath, shamelessly licking his chapped lips. 

when he noticed the sly grin etched on your face he had to pinch himself to force his eyes away from your alluring figure, careful not to get distracted by your smooth legs gracefully spread across the bed. 

shaking his head, he tried to remember why he had almost left a dent on your wall from the way he had slammed your bedroom door open in the first place.

“but that’s not the point here. you stole my clothes!”

his words made you scoff loudly, clearly pretending to be offended by his accusation. “i still don’t see the problem. didn’t your mom teach you to share?”

your blank expression and unbothered attitude was so incredibly infuriating donghyuck felt like plucking his eyelashes one by one. and he had no doubt in mind you were well aware of it. 

although most of your conversations consisted of you both bickering back and forth like two middle school kids fighting for the same toy, donghyuck had learned how that evil little mind of yours worked throughout the time you lived together.

your roommate may have not been the brightest lightbulb of all, but anyone with two working brain cells could agree that there was no activity in this world, nothing, that gave you as much joy as annoying the living hell out of him. 

truth is, nothing could have prepared you –or donghyuck– for the turn of events your life would take in the span of 24 hours. the moment you opened the front door to your dorm apartment –fully expecting to see a fellow uterus-bearer–, to him, luggage in hand and ready to move into the room next to yours, you made it your ultimate goal to terrorize the poor boy. 

and how could you not? your roommate-from-hell made it so easy for you to read him like an open book. one look at his face, at those big, expressive eyes and you could almost hear his thoughts.

“that’s my lucky shirt, i need it back. right now.”

“don’t you see i need it too? what am i supposed to wear if you take it away from me?”

“i don’t really care, y/n, that’s not my problem.”

“then come here and take it off yourself.”

the small gasp that tumbled out of his plush lips made a warm feeling pool at the pit of your stomach. if it weren’t because you were trying to fuck donghyuck and not fuck with donghyuck, you would have giggled. 

“w-what?”

“you heard me. if you want it back you’ll have to come take it off with your own hands.”

“you’re fucking crazy. i-i, what the fuck, y’know i can’t do that!” donghyuck cried out, his skin beginning to prickle with frustration, heart rate spiked up to reach dangerous speeds. “c’mon, y/n, just give it back already. the guys are waiting for me.”

“too bad.”

your pouty lips had him clenching his fists. not only to stop himself from choking you to death, but also to ground himself. he could feel a droplet of sweat drip down the back of his neck, body temperature rising concerningly fast at your very clear attempt at taunting him.

if only he could have them stretched around him, struggling to fit the thickness of his dick…

but that was not the matter at hand.

donghyuck was known for always being late to everything. and usually it was for a good reason. like forgetting about an important assignment until the very last minute and having to stay home to submit it on time. or getting stuck in traffic. or maybe even finding himself in trouble for running his mouth too much for his own good. 

all of them were pretty believable. things no one would ever have an ounce of a doubt could potentially happen. 

but this, this right here was something donghyuck could never explain to anybody without them immediately calling him out for trying to bullshit his way out of trouble. even if it was indeed real, no one would believe him. ever.

and to be fair, it did sound like the plot of a bad porn movie, one probably titled something along the lines of ‘lucky guy fucks hot roommate’.

considering how big of an attention whore you were, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had your own only fans account and were seeking a helping hand. his hand. 

“don’t you wanna fuck me, hyuck?”

if donghyuck wasn’t taken aback by your attitude before, he had to physically take a step back this time, jaw almost hitting the floor.

“why are you so horny all of a sudden?”

“wouldn’t you also feel horny if you had to constantly sit through your roommate getting off in the other room?”

donghyuck felt like a bucket of cold water was tossed over his head, and he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to his feet. you could see him scrambling to think of something to say. 

poor boy looked like he was caught committing a crime. 

how adorable. 

“okay, well, i’m sorry. i have needs, y’know? unfortunately i can’t control when my dick decides to get hard-.”

“i know you jerk off to the thought of me,” you interrupted abruptly, staring at him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “i’ve heard you before.”

the blood instantly drained from donghyuck’s face. he suddenly felt lightheaded, having to lean against your door in case he fainted.

how did you even find out? 

sure, he knew the walls were thin and not exactly soundproof. and yeah, your rooms were right next to each other, separated only by one of those thin walls he often joked about being made out of cardboard. but he always waited until you were out of the apartment to enjoy his much needed self care time. and he swore he was always quiet. as quiet as one can be when beating your meat to the thought of your sexy roommate.

“what are you-.”

“why don’t you just come fuck me instead of using your own hand?” you sounded as if you were offering him to wash the dishes, way too casual for the situation at hand. “i bet it doesn’t feel the same.”

donghyuck didn’t know what was going on. everything was moving too fast for his poor brain –rotten due to all the hours he had spent masturbating to hentai porn– to keep up, visibly struggling to process the situation. 

“fuck, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to react.”

the thing is, that was exactly what you wanted. for him to lose his shit and fuck you into next week. shove his dick in your pussy without even bother to let you adjust to the stretch and take you to pound town for the next five hours.

“i’m not joking, hyuck. i meant what i said.”

someone pinch me, he thought. 

was this a new way you discovered to toy with him? because if it was, then it was so fucked up. 

“fine. i’ll call jeno over then,” you shrugged, reaching out for your phone at his lack of response. “i’m sure he wouldn’t mind sticking his big dick in my tight little pussy.”

your words hit donghyuck like a fucking truck. his jaw almost dislocated from how wide his mouth flew open, the tips of his ears turning a rosy color at the prospect of his friend. in bed. with you. fucking his huge dick –because everyone knew he was packing– into your needy hole. having you cream all over his cock, holding onto his strong arms as you cry out his name.

just the thought of your fucked out expression and loud whines had him salivating in his mouth. 

donghyuck and jeno had been friends since forever, which meant he knew for a fact that his best friend would ditch him in a heartbeat if you did as much as look at him the way you were currently looking at your roommate. 

“c’mon hyuck, i know you’re dying to touch me.”

the boy in front of you visibly struggled to keep himself together when one of your hands traveled down your body to rub yourself through the thin material of your pajama shorts. his knees felt weak, ears burning at the sound of your sweet moans.

“i need you.”

your words replayed in his head like a broken record. you said you needed him. not jeno. not anyone else. him. as in donghyuck. your roommate for the past year.

as much as he did want to touch you, feel every curve of your body, he was also scared you were just messing with him. he was scared that finally giving in to his desires would just embarrass him and ruin his almost nonexistent chance with you.

god, donghyuck liked you so much. his little crush on you had already become annoying the moment he realized it even existed. 

you were the biggest tease he had ever met. and that says a lot coming from the lee donghyuck himself. you were always playfully flirting with him whenever you felt like it. or felt like giving him a hard time. and he could see it in your face you enjoyed every second of seeing him struggle to respond.

“i-i,” he gulped with difficulty, mouth dry as a desert. “i can’t.”

you watched the slim boy waddle his way out of your room. and you would’ve missed the tent growing in his shorts if he hadn’t almost tripped over his own feet and fallen next to you on your bed. 

for around ten minutes, you remained frozen in place, figuring out how to get your roommate to break and give into his –and your– desires.

this was the closest you had gotten to crossing the line separating an innocent friendship –if you could call it that– between roommates from something more. something you both wanted but knew he was far too scared to try and make happen. 

and how were you so sure about his feelings for you? 

easy. 

the boy wore his heart on his sleeve. 

anyone could tell how enamored he was with you. how he visibly perked up whenever you were around. the way his cheeks would turn an adorable shade of red and his eyes alternate between staring at the floor, daydreaming about you, and sending heart eyes your way. 

it had even become an ongoing joke within your own friend group. no one could –or wanted to– stop teasing you about his seemingly undying love for you. 

“c’mon, just look at him,” chaewon once pointed out in the middle of the library, elbowing you while whisper-shouting, “he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. even to the library!”

as much as you wanted to shush her, she was right. 

before he moved into your now shared apartment, he would remain at least a 100 miles radius from the library. it was as if he was allergic to knowledge, his handful of brain cells immediately going out of service at the smell of old books. 

now, once you joined the picture, it was as if a switch was flicked. he became a regular at the campus library all of a sudden, so much so that even the old librarian tending the front desk knew him by name. 

the end might be near, you thought when you first saw him sitting in a corner of the library, a variety of books sprawled across the table as he pretended to understand the book in his hands on quantum physics. you knew, of course, he didn’t. the boy was so busy looking around the building for something –or rather someone– to notice the book he was holding was upside down. 

his blatant attempts at getting closer to you weren’t a complete fail though, as they had your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about the messy boy on the other side of your bedroom wall. 

but before even thinking about how boyfriend material he was when he wasn’t trying to piss you off, you first wanted to test the waters. get a sneak peek at what dating donghyuck would look like without actually committing to it just yet. 

and the only way you could think of to do so without forcing yourself into a vulnerable position and directly confessing was by fucking your roommate. 

after taking a run for it out of your room, donghyuck decided he would have to do without his lucky shirt during this gaming session. hopefully only tonight. he knew the guys would not leave him alone if he was the reason for another loss, especially after boasting so much about his abilities the last time they played together. 

sitting on his gamer chair, still shaken by the interaction, he ran his fingers through his hair to clear his reeling mind. he needed to forget about what had just happened in the other room and focus on the task at hand: winning rounds in pubg. 

soon, donghyuck was able to immerse himself in the game, all thoughts about you drowning at the loud sound of firearms and the screams of his friends coming from his headset. so far he had been able to take down roughly a dozen other players, carrying the highest streak among his friends much to his delight.

however, the calm before the storm didn’t last long. 

the boy tensed up, fingers stuttering over his gamer keyboard when you rested your warm cheek right next to the still noticeable bulge in his basketball shorts. instinctively, his legs parted to give you space to position yourself between them. 

he hadn’t even noticed the moment when you had slipped into his room and quietly crawled under his desk, too deep into the game to sense the movement. 

donghyuck would be lying if he said he had never thought about you on your knees for him before. so many, almost too many times. he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide.

willing his heart to slow down a bit, he peered down at you. you looked so unbelievably beautiful with your long eyelashes fluttering delicately as you stared up at him, big eyes locked on his.

“keep playing,” your hot breath against his inner thigh had the hairs in his neck standing up.

he hadn’t even realized when exactly he had stopped playing, too busy engraving the visual in front of him in his head.

gulping with some difficulty, donghyuck did as he was told. usually it came easy for him to submerge himself in the game, tuning out everything but the loud voices of his friends.

“you’re so hard, hyuckie,” you snickered, licking your lips as your finger trailed the outline of his painfully hard cock with a feather-like touch that caused him to shiver. “is it all for me?”

he pursed his lips tightly and simply bobbed his head yes, afraid of his friends catching onto what was going on on his end of the call.

satisfied, you let yourself cop a feel of his length. your hand palmed him over his pants, squeezing around the sensitive head every so often. even through the material of his shorts you could feel the precum leaking out of his tip.

the view in front of you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together, thickened clit throbbing in excitement. 

his silky hair, usually styled, was now messily framing his pretty face in the most beautiful way possible. his dark eyes were rolled back, slender fingers curling into fists as his hips raised from the chair, sloppily humping your hand. he looked fucked out already with sweat already dripping down his temple.

what a man.

“dude, what’s up with you? you sound like you just ran a marathon,” mark’s voice had donghyuck squirming in his seat, heart almost beating out of his chest. “are you alright?”

the boy’s head snapped to look at the screen in front of him, neck almost breaking from the aggressiveness of the movement.

“speak up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, tightening your fingers around the base of his cock.

his hips stuttered, hands holding on the edge of his desk as he swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape his lips. he heaved a shaky breath, summoning all his self control to not bust his load right then and there.

“i-i’m fine,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was struggling to make a sound. or more like to not make a sound. “shouldn’t have had taco bell for lunch.”

you could see the boy holding his breath, terrified his friends would see right through his weak excuse of a lie. and a sigh of relief almost slipped past his lips when they only hummed, quickly going back to their previous conversation, not very interested in digging into the cause of his unusual behaviour any deeper.

meanwhile, the pretty little devil between his legs got to work, releasing his dick by harshly pulling down his shorts. you blew air at the sensitive tip, making him shudder at the sensation. but it wasn’t until you placed a peck to his slit, fingers going to hold him at the base, pumping your fist up and down, when the boy gave into his primal desires.  

“guys, gotta go,” donghyuck interrupted the conversation less than five minutes later, hurriedly clicking off the game and moving to end the call.

“what-,” renjun protested immediately, sounding nothing less than annoyed, and donghyuck was sure he would be getting nagged next time he saw his friend. “we’re in the middle of a round and getting our asses kicked because of you, you can’t just dip now!”

“i’m sorry,” was all he mumbled before turning off his computer.

donghyuck didn’t even bother taking off his headphones, opting for simply letting it hang around his neck. he was too close, too desperate for release to worry about getting sweat all over the –new and very expensive– device –that he had just acquired not even a week ago after months of hard work–.

he could feel how hot his face was, sticky skin burning under the intense heat of your gaze. the smug smirk that adorned your pretty face had his body on fire, a combination of embarrassment and need making his cock twitch uncontrollably. 

being able to see the power you had over the lee donghyuck had you almost shaking with excitement, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you out of breath. you would be lying if you said you had never thought about this, having him all to yourself, at your disposal, ready to take anything you gave him. 

your hand never stopped moving up and down his length, giving kitten licks to the swollen tip of his cock. 

he wanted to scream and smash his head against the desk, desperation clawing at his throat. he knew you were trying to break him, to make him beg for it, to fully give in to you. 

the idea of pleading for your touch, for you to engulf his hard cock with that sweet little mouth of yours had his jaw clenching. 

but fuck… he really wanted, no, needed more. to watch you gag as he fucked your throat, tears escaping the corner of your eyes at the discomfort. he wanted your soft hands gripping his strong thighs to hold yourself together, a mix of saliva and his precum making the lower half of your face glisten under the light of his screen. 

“i,” he struggled to speak up, voice trembling from the intense pleasure. “i’m close.”

“i can see that,” you smirked, twirling your tongue around the head before gently poking his slit with the tip of your tongue. 

“please, i need more.”

donghyuck finally broke, babbling incoherent words, urging you to fully take him in. 

fortunately for him, you immediately obliged, pushing your head down until the tip of your nose hit his neatly trimmed pelvis. he really thought some more begging was going to be necessary for you to give him what he wanted. 

“fuck, yeah. just like that,” the sigh of relief he let out quickly turned into a loud moan when you swallowed around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs. 

his orgasm hit him like a wrecking ball. his entire body began trembling, hands shooting to hold your head down –as if you were planning on pulling away–, fingers threading through your hair for a better grip. spurts of hot, salty cum painting the walls of your throat, and you eagerly swallowed everything he gave you. 

the sound of his heavy breaths filled the dimly lit room, his body still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just rocked his world. 

you pushed his gamer chair back by his thighs, climbing onto his lap with a satisfied hum. you allowed him some rest, aware of his shaky legs, and instead focused your attention on the tan skin of his neck. you placed a tentative lick right under his jaw, slowly moving down the expanse of his throat. the feeling had the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing aggressively, your fingers going to play with the hem of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room. 

once he stopped feeling like his legs were going to give up on him, donghyuck stood up from his place on the chair making you yelp in surprise, strong arms holding you against him. he then sat at the edge of his bed, head resting on your shoulder. 

“i wanna taste you,” donghyuck pleaded, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. “please, sit on my face.”

you instantly nodded, quickly removing your pajama shorts, body tingling with anticipation as you pressed your palm flat on his chest to push him onto his back. he complied, not a single complaint coming out of his mouth at your display of dominance.

donghyuck swiped his tongue over his pretty lips, wetting them and leaving them glistening with spit as he patiently waited for your next move.

“so eager,” you teased, a smug grin on your face.

“stop playing and hurry up,” the boy whined, lifting himself from his place, holding himself up with the help of his forearms. 

his eyes were barely open, pupils blown out. he looked so hot, laying shirtless on his messy bed. all hard and wet, ready for you to drop your panties and sit on his dick.

and oh how bad you wanted to sit on it.

swinging your leg over his body, you positioned yourself so your dripping pussy was hovering right over his mouth. you immediately felt his large hands grip at your ass, forcing you down to finally sit on his face.

“thank you,” you could clearly feel his lips moving against your panty-clad core, the breathy sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “god, thank you so much.”

you didn’t even get to laugh at him, or tease him about how desperate he looked sucking your juices off of your panties. all that died on your tongue when he used two fingers to push the crotch of your underwear out of the way and immediately latched his mouth to your pussy. 

“look at you, what a messy munch, eating me out like your life depends on it,” you teased, biting your lip when you felt his tongue poke at your gaping hole, caressing your insides. 

the dirty words coming out of your mouth had donghyuck physically shaking under your weight, urging him to keep going. he wanted nothing more than to see you cum, have your hips sloppily rocking into his pretty lips and leaving the evidence of your arousal all over his face. 

“fuck, hyuck. just like that,” you sighed contently, harshly grinding against his mouth. “you’re such a good boy.”

donghyuck hummed appreciatively, relishing at the praise, eyes falling shut and hands reaching for your thighs, massaging the soft flesh. 

he loved the attention you were giving him, and he let you know just how proud of himself he was when one of his palms slammed against your ass cheek before nipping at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

it all happened so fast that your orgasm caught you completely off guard. you didn’t even have time to flinch at the stinging on your backside, the knot in your stomach suddenly snapping, and you melted into a puddle. your trembling thighs clamped around donghyuck’s head, your entire upper body folding forward, struggling not to collapse on top of the boy under you.

you must have blacked out for a second there, and once you regained consciousness you were left in a breathless, sweaty mess. 

“shit, that was so fucking hot,” donghyuck mumbled, sounding breathless as he stared down at his body with hooded eyes, snapping you out of your daze. “when were you going to tell me you could squirt?”

“i can’t-,” you choked on a loud gasp when you saw his now glistening chest. 

your cum had sprinkled all over the place, some of it even reaching his naked thighs. embarrassment washed over your face, making your cheeks heat up. 

“this is so much better than what i had hoped for, fuck.”

his pretty cock stood tall, in all its glory once again, hard and leaking, twitching every time his eyes travelled back to the mess you made. 

swallowing your embarrassment, you moved to straddle your roommate’s hips, teasing your wet pussy over his hard cock. but before you could fuck yourself with it, donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you before flipping you both on your side.

“what are you doing,” you scowled, a pout on your swollen lips. “i was about to ride you!”

“as sexy as that sounds, we can do that later.”

“but-.”

“just, let me, okay?” his voice sounded so soft, so soothing you couldn't find it in you to fight with him as you usually would. “do you trust me?”

“what? what are you gonna do?”

“answer me, please.”

donghyuck’s soft voice and tender gaze made a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, a fuzzy feeling settling into your chest.

“i do.”

one of his hands grabbed your leg, bringing it to rest over his hip before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. donghyuck smashed his mouth against yours, swallowing the small whimper that fell from your lips when he teased your clit.

“hyuck, put it in already,” you whined, clenching around nothing at the friction. 

and how could he say no when you sounded so desperate to feel him? when he had been waiting for this moment for so long?

nodding, he did as you wished, pushing his hips into yours. his thick cock stretched your pussy wide open with each delicious inch, filling you up in a way you didn’t know you needed. his mouth fell open as your velvety walls enveloped him. your head rolled back, holding onto his arms for support, letting him push himself in further, deeper.

it felt like heaven. your bodies fitting perfectly against each other, as if you were both made for the other; just like puzzle pieces. 

low groans left his chest at the sound of your tiny mewls, enjoying the burning sensation of your nails digging into the flesh of his arms. 

donghyuck liked the way you said his name, how you called out to him with pretty eyelashes decorating those big eyes of yours as you looked at him. he liked the frustration and raw desire swimming in your eyes, and the way it made your lips form into a pout and your eyebrows scrunch together.

“move, hyuck,” you pleaded, attempting to grind your hips into his. “please.”

a scream was forced out of your throat as donghyuck immediately began slamming his throbbing cock inside of you. your whole body trembled in his arms as the bulbous head hit your g-spot, and almost as if he had just pressed a button, your mind went blank.

“t-there, fuck, oh my g-god.”

the distant look in your eyes, lips parted into a silent moan, drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth, let him know just how good he was making you feel. his chest swelled with pride, a newfound passion taking over him and turning his thrusts into deep, precise strokes that had you reaching heaven. 

“feels good? this is what you wanted, right? to have my dick fucking you full?” donhyuck grunted, repositioning you on your back and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he could feel himself throbbing wildly inside of you, warning him about his up and coming high. 

“yes,” you gasped, legs tightening around his waist in an effort to bring him closer. 

you would be telling the truth if you said you had never gotten railed like this before. who would’ve guessed the hentai-crazed dork next door would be so good at fucking you dumb? if it weren’t for his now obvious experience in the matter at hand you would’ve confidently assumed he had never been touched by a woman. 

oh how wrong you were. 

“i’ve dreamed about this for the longest time,” the boy confessed, “every time you walked around the place, wearing only a large shirt and panties, ass in full display, i had to lock myself in this room to fuck my first, wishing it was you instead.”

donghyuck could feel your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice at the weight of his confession. with your orgasms quickly approaching, he propped your calves on his strong shoulders to reach even deeper, lips going to kiss your breasts and nibble on your nipples. 

“i can tell how much you like to be treated like the dirty slut you are,” he groaned against your chest, feeling his vision blur. “you’re fucking dripping all over me, creaming my cock.”

“h-hyuck,” your body began convulsing under him, about to tip over the edge. 

“cum for me, y/n, let me see how pretty you look falling apart on my dick.”

and that was all you needed to hear before a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body, calves squeezing donghyuck’s head from the intensity of your orgasm. 

before you were able to fully ride your high, donghyuck pulled out, drawing whines out of you at the emptiness he left behind. ignoring your complaints, he shoved your legs together, shoving his cock between your plush thighs as he picked up his pace once again. 

“fuck, i’m almost there,” he moaned, breathless. 

and you couldn’t help but do the same as you stared at his face, eyes struggling to stay open as he chased his high like a rabid dog, using your body for his pleasure. 

it didn’t take more than three harsh thrusts before he was spilling his essence all over your lower stomach and thighs with a pornographic moan. 

releasing his hold on your legs to let them fall back in place, he collapsed on top of you, almost crushing you with his body, completely spent. 

fortunately –or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it–, donghyuck was unable to successfully commit homicide. and after showering together and going for another round, each of you went back to your respective rooms, moving on like nothing happened. 

just like that, your lives quickly fell back in place and normality took over once again. 

or so you thought. 

“hyuck, have you seen my pink panti-.”

you audibly gasped when you saw the pink lace panties you were searching for discarded on your roommate’s bed, a huge cum stain you were sure was not there the last time you saw them messily smeared on the crotch. 

“what the fuck?” 

“oh, yeah, i saw them in the dryer the other day and thought they looked too pretty not to jerk off to them,” the boy shrugged from his place in front of his large monitor, not even bothering to look at you. “honestly, you should invest in satin thongs, i think they’d look hot as fuck.”

“you little thief! i’ve been looking for them for days!”

“need i remind you that sharing is caring?” you huffed, a scowl on your face. “what do you need them for anyway?”

“to go out with chaewon, obviously?” you scoffed, annoyed. 

he finally turned to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up and a dark look in his eyes. “so? were you planning on showing them to her or what?”

the growing annoyance in his tone left you scrambling for an answer, equally parts surprised and turned on by the hint of possessiveness in his voice. 

“so what if i was?” you challenged, arms crossed in defiance. 

you barely got time to react when his chair suddenly swirled around, donghyuck’s full attention now set on you.

“only i am allowed to see you in them, so you better behave.”

–lia:)

[becomingthatgirl111]

How to Be That Girl This Summer – Without Burning Out

You’ve probably seen the “That Girl” aesthetic all over your feed—green smoothies, 6 AM workouts, matching sets, and perfectly curated routines. But let’s be real: being That Girl isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about creating a lifestyle that actually makes you feel good—from the inside out.

So this summer, let’s redefine what it means to be That Girl. Here’s your realistic, soul-nourishing guide to becoming your best self this season.

1. Wake Up With Intention, Not Perfection

Forget the 5 AM alarm if it doesn’t serve you. That Girl energy means waking up when it works for you, and using the first 10–20 minutes to set the tone:

• No scrolling.

• Open the windows.

• Stretch, hydrate, and journal a thought or intention for the day.

It’s not about being “productive”—it’s about being present.

2. Eat Like You Love Yourself

Summer is a beautiful time to nourish your body with colorful, whole foods that support your energy and mood. Instead of strict diets or “cleanses,” focus on adding:

• Hydrating fruits like watermelon, cucumber, and berries.

• Mood-boosting fats like avocado, nuts, and olive oil.

• Energizing carbs like quinoa, oats, and sweet potatoes.

And yes—you can absolutely enjoy ice cream or a cold drink on a terrace. Balance is key. That’s what makes it sustainable.

3. Move Every Day (But Listen to Your Body)

You don’t need to do hardcore workouts every day. This summer, try:

• A quick full-body circuit at home or the gym (20–30 mins).

• Morning Pilates or yoga in the park.

• Evening walks with a podcast or barefoot beach walks.

Try this idea: Pick a movement mood for each day of the week—“Stretchy Sunday”, “That Girl Friday”, “Walk & Podcast Thursday”. Make it fun and intuitive.

4. Romanticize the Little Things

Here’s a habit not every creator tells you: turn the ordinary into something beautiful.

• Use the nice glass for your iced coffee.

• Read in the sun with your favorite playlist in the background.

• Plan a “solo date” to a bookstore, museum, or your local café.

• Keep a summer joy list and try to check off one small joy per day.

5. Protect Your Energy Online & Offline

Being That Girl means being conscious of what you consume—not just food, but content, conversations, and environments.

• Unfollow accounts that drain or pressure you.

• Say no to plans that don’t align with your peace.

• Curate a digital space that inspires growth, not comparison.

Your mental wellness is sacred. Protect it like your favorite lip balm in the heat. 😌

6. Summer Self-Care Rituals You’ll Actually Stick To

Create your own seasonal self-care menu. Here are ideas:

• Aloe vera face masks after a sunny day

• Journaling with iced tea on your balcony

• A 5-minute gratitude list at sunset

• Weekly “check-in” walks without your phone

The goal? Make it easy, soft, and realistic. Let summer be a time of reset, not pressure.

Let’s Make This That Girl Summer the Healthiest One Yet

You don’t need to do what everyone else is doing. You just need to find what feels good, true, and energizing for you. Build small habits you actually enjoy. Choose joy. Hydrate. Move. Laugh. Let this summer be soft, slow, strong, and full of soul.

Would you follow a page where I post all my wellness guides, routines, and exclusive content off social media? I’ve been thinking about building a full platform just for us—with organized tips, printables, and even challenges. Let me know in the comments or send me a message if that’s something you’d love to see!

Let me know in the comments:

✨What’s one habit you’re focusing on this summer?

Or…

🍓Would you like a printable That Girl Summer Checklist?

[aleksatia]

🍎 Blind date with your ex-husband. You never expected it to be… Caleb.

Inspiration hit me going 100mph down the highway, and I took an unscheduled gas station stop just to write this down. My husband almost divorced me again thinking I’d lost my mind — so in a way, this series is dedicated to him. And to second chances. I know they exist. I’ve lived one. 🥀

An unplanned new series. Five ex-husbands. Same setup, different reactions.

❄️ Zayne | 🎨 Rafayel | ✨Xavier | 🏍 Sylus

Cut Scene (NSFW): 🍎 Caleb – The Tea, the Rice, and Everything Between

CW/TW: emotional trauma, post-divorce grief, unresolved intimacy, mutual guilt and blame, AI-simulated memory confrontation, violent emotional release, destructive conflict, references to emotional manipulation and psychological burnout, gameified use of weapons, simulated car crash, coarse language, heavy emotional dialogue, themes of self-sabotage, intimacy tangled with pain, and lingering affection that hurts to hold. Please read with care.

Pairing: Caleb x ex-wife!you Genre: Emotional combat dressed as therapy. Post-divorce catharsis through orchestrated destruction. Rage as ritual, memory as minefield. Estranged soulmates, bruised devotion, unsaid things turned weapon. Slow-burn devastation with soft hands and steel teeth. Summary: You didn’t sign up for closure. You signed up to break things. But when your blind date turns out to be Caleb — your ex-husband, your gravity, your sharpest regret — the rooms stop being symbolic. Each one strips you down, forces you closer, until rage gives way to honesty, control to collapse. And underneath it all, he’s still the man who would never let you fall… but might be the reason you broke in the first place. Word Count: 7.1K AN: For some reason, the one I write last always ends up being twice as long as the one I write first — which is why I constantly rotate the order. Out of five men, five parts, this one came last… and, predictably, got out of hand. I'll be honest — this turned out painful. At least for me. And cruel, in places. But it felt honest. Maybe a little OOC at times, but let’s be real — divorce changes people. And now I need to recover from this one. Probably for longer than I want to admit.

Almost a year after the divorce, something inside you had been fermenting. 

Not relief, not the lightness of a woman unshackled, but something bitter and unholy. The kind of pain that doesn’t dissolve, but calcifies. It grew claws. Grew teeth. Turned your bloodstream into gasoline. You tried everything: the silence of mountains, the thrill of anonymous sex, the rhythm of violence in a boxing ring. None of it was enough. The hunts were no longer satisfying. The catharsis, too fleeting. You needed something that could bleed when you hit it.

So when the ad appeared — BLIND DATE: DESTRUCTION EDITION. To escape, you must destroy — you signed up without thinking twice. Rage has never been your enemy. Indecision is.

You dressed for war. Tight leather pants that clung like a second skin. Laced boots with soles heavy enough to leave imprints. A button-down shirt under a corset not meant to seduce, but to shield. Your hair pulled into a high, severe ponytail. Drama layered like armor.

This wasn’t a date. It was a reckoning.

You arrived five minutes early. You always do. The place was a former warehouse, rebranded into a rage room with curated destruction experiences — urban apocalypse meets sad girl therapy. The hostess gave you a waiver and a smirk. “He’s already here,” she said. “In Room B.” 

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t want to know. You wanted to feel your heartbeat in your teeth.

You walked in, pulling on the thick gloves, then sliding the protective goggles into place. The world dimmed slightly through the tinted lenses, sharpening at the edges. Everything suddenly looked a little more dangerous. A little more true.

The door hissed shut behind you, and the lock clicked with a finality that was almost erotic. One way in. No way out but through — through brick, through rage, through whatever poor bastard was foolish enough to stand in your way.

Your hand found the sledgehammer without looking, fingers curling around its weight like it was made for you. Heavy. Grounding. Righteous. You gave it a test swing, then another, calibrating impact, imagining bone. You didn’t even glance at him. 

Whoever he was, he’d get the same treatment as the wall.

Until he spoke.

“Well,” the voice cut through the air like a cracked knuckle, dry and dark, “you still choose the biggest weapon in the room. Some things never change, pip-squeak.”

You turned. Fast. The hammer arced through the space between you, too close. He ducked. The wall behind him caught the edge, chipped hard enough to spray red dust into the air.

“Say that again,” you warned, low and flat, “and I swear I’ll aim for the nose next time.”

He straightened slowly, expression unreadable except for the barely-contained fire in his eyes. 

“Touchy,” he muttered. “All righty. Retiring that one. Let’s see... viperette? Still small. Still mean. But I respect the venom upgrade.”

Caleb.

Of course it was Caleb.

The universe had a sense of humor. A cruel one.

He looked like war in a t-shirt. Leaner, somehow, like rage had eaten away the softness around his edges. His jaw was tight, eyes dark and alert, like he’d been living off caffeine and unfinished sentences. He held a crowbar like it was an extension of his spine — ready to break, to pry, to rip something apart.

You didn’t say his name. You didn’t give the moment that kind of power.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing the setup. “A brick wall. Real subtle. What, are we supposed to talk about our feelings while we chip away at the trauma?”

You didn’t dignify that with a reply—at least not right away. Then, dryly: “I think we’re supposed to break shit. Bonus points if we don’t murder each other.”

He barked a short, mirthless laugh. “Blind date with a bat and unresolved issues. Sounds like your kind of night.”

“You’re projecting. I didn’t come here to reminisce, Caleb. I came here to destroy.”

“Great. Start with the wall.”

You planted your feet, drew back, and slammed the hammer into the bricks. The jolt surged through you like an exorcism. Caleb followed suit, striking beside your dent with a calculated precision that annoyed you more than it should’ve.

You worked without speaking. The cracks formed slowly, reluctantly, like even the damn wall didn’t believe you two could work together. You hated how easily your rhythms aligned. Always had. Even when you fought, you were fluent in each other’s movement.

He paused, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “So. Tell me, did you know it was gonna be me?”

“If I had, I’d have brought a bigger hammer.”

“And here I thought you might’ve missed me.”

You turned your head, just enough to let him see your smile — sharp, unapologetic. “I did. Like you miss a bullet you didn’t dodge.”

That shut him up.

For now.

The wall finally began to give.

Cracks widened, deepened, split like veins across the surface. Your breath came hard, sharp in your throat. You were sweating, but the hammer felt lighter now, almost like it wanted more.

Another hit. Another. Then —

Caleb dropped his crowbar with a clatter, stepped in close, too close. You tightened your grip, not sure if he was about to yell, shove, or kiss you.

He didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he reached out and gripped your upper arm — not rough, but firm, like a man redirecting fate — and pulled you a half step back. The wall loomed beside you like a dying animal. You opened your mouth to protest, but stopped when you saw his face.

He was looking at you like he was memorizing the end of the world. That same gaze he used to have when he thought you were asleep and he was letting himself be weak for ten seconds. It cut deeper now.

You didn’t blink. Neither did he.

Then, without a word, he turned, drew back, and drove the full weight of his body into one final strike.

The hammer met the weak spot with a sound that rang like a gunshot. Dust exploded into the air. He kicked the base of the wall hard — his boot landing with perfect force, perfect timing — and the whole thing collapsed in the opposite direction, away from you, bricks falling like dominos, like judgment, like the years between you had meant nothing and everything at once.

Silence.

Then you exhaled.

And said, flatly, “You always did know how to make a point. Real subtle, Colonel.”

His jaw twitched. That was all. No quip this time, no grin. Just the tight strain in his neck and a flicker behind his eyes like something was about to unhinge. But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. That was the whole game with you two — feeling everything and showing nothing until the room caught fire.

You stepped through the rubble.

The next chamber was colder. Darker. The hum of old OLED screens filled the air like flies buzzing near a carcass. Dozens of them, mounted along the curved walls in perfect symmetry. Some flickering, some bright, all showing the same kind of sickening reel. Success. Smiles. Promotions. Affection posed for the camera, curated happiness. Couples at sunset, at brunch, in bed. Running on a beach, golden and effortless.

Then the altar.

A bride. A groom. A goddamn soft-focus lens.

You stopped cold.

The hammer slipped from your hand. You bent slowly, picked up a chunk of broken brick from the ruins behind you — rough, warm, red with the breath of your anger — and flung it.

The screen shattered on impact. A flicker. Sparks. A frozen image of a kiss, fractured into spider veins of glass.

Caleb didn’t move. Not really. Just stood there, staring at the wall of curated lies. His eyes darted from screen to screen, like he was trying to catch something in the movement. Like he was afraid he’d see something too real.

You hurled another brick.

The screen cracked with a dull, satisfying sound, collapsing inward like it had flinched.

“Would’ve been more poetic if they used our photos,” he said, dryly, like his throat was sand.

You scoffed. “Should’ve offered the organizers access to our digital album, I guess. Too bad I wiped every trace of you from the cloud last October.”

That got him.

His lip curled upward — half a smirk, half a snarl. “Of course you did. Practical. Cold. Classic you.”

You turned slowly, blood surging behind your ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t step back. Caleb never did. “I didn’t delete anything,” he said, voice low. “Renamed the album. Filed it under ‘Bitch I Used to Love’ Thought it was honest.”

You could’ve scratched the skin off his face with how fast your hands moved if not for the gloves and the goggles between you. You were on him in a second, eyes locked, breath ragged, but neither of you made contact. Not yet. The air between you hissed with the threat of combustion.

“You’re such a fu—”

The voice cut in. Not his. Not yours.

From the screen behind you, a woman's face smiled, unbearably bright, like a toothpaste ad with delusions of sincerity. “You can always count on me,” she said.

Your breath stopped.

That phrase. His phrase.

Before you could move, Caleb did.

He crossed the room in two strides and brought the bat down like wrath. The screen split open with a flash of white light and a guttural sound that wasn’t quite human. A scream, maybe. Or something deeper.

He didn’t say anything after that. And neither did you.

Not in words.

But your body answered. Loudly.

You tore through the room like it had insulted you personally. Which, in a way, it had. Those grinning avatars of happiness, the sterile intimacy of picture-perfect couples — people who hadn’t known the feeling of being swallowed alive by someone they trusted. Smug joy laminated in pixels. They deserved everything you gave them.

You brought the bat down on one screen, then another. Glass shattered in bursts. Sparks flew like ash from a controlled burn. Across the room, Caleb mirrored you, attacking from the opposite side — controlled, brutal, rhythmic. Again, you were in sync. Not lovers. Not enemies. Just two wild animals with matching scars, dismantling a cathedral of lies.

And then you met in the middle.

The largest screen loomed between you, mounted above a faux-marble pedestal like some grotesque altar. You swung. Hard. The bat ricocheted off the screen like it had hit bone. 

It didn’t crack. It laughed. A sharp recoil shot up your arm.

You let out a guttural sound — somewhere between a curse and a grow l— and dropped the bat.

Then picked up a brick.

It was still warm from the earlier wall, one edge sharp enough to draw blood if it wanted to. You didn’t give it the chance. You took it to the screen, again and again, raw and breathless, something primal and unrepentant bleeding out through your hands. Each strike carved into the polished surface like you were trying to murder memory itself.

Caleb didn’t stop you. He just stood to the side, watching the destruction like it was sacred.

When the screen finally gave in, it did so all at once. Glass caved with a scream of surrender, wires snapped, the frame buckled and collapsed in on itself. Behind it: a door. Dark, narrow, humming softly.

You stood still, shoulders heaving. Your fingers clenched tighter around the brick, so tight the rough edges pressed through the gloves and left grooves in your skin beneath. You swallowed hard, once, choking back something feral and ho t— not quite tears, but close enough to shame you.

Then, without looking, you turned and hurled the brick in the opposite direction. Just to hear it hit. Just to remind yourself you still could.

Caleb took a step toward you. Careful. Something in his face had changed — softened, almost. His mouth twitched like he was about to ask the one question no one in their right mind should ask.

Are you okay?

No. You were not okay. You were on fire inside a collapsing structure and the only thing holding you together was inertia.

“Touch me,” you warned, voice like cut wire, “and I swear I’ll hit harder than I did that screen.”

And with that, you walked forward. Toward whatever hell came next.

The room ahead was cleaner. Cold lighting. Metallic walls with thin veins of circuitry pulsing like capillaries beneath glass. At the center stood a sleek black pedestal, and on it: two shotguns. Game-style, not military, but still heavy, still real enough in your hands to feel the familiar pull of power in the barrel. Your palms flexed on instinct.

You grabbed one without hesitation. Caleb followed suit.

Above, a voice crackled — genderless, modulated. Artificial.

“Welcome to Trigger Point. Please attach neural sensors to your temples. Each player must input ten phrases associated with emotional distress. The AI will cross-reference the data, generate projected constructs, and render them in combat form. Destroy on sight. Objective: release. Completion time: variable.”

You stared at the interactive screen blinking in front of you. A small keyboard. Ten empty fields. The implication clear: name your demons. Feed them in. And then shoot them down.

Caleb started typing immediately. No hesitation. His fingers flew. He was always better at anger. At naming what hurt. You wondered if he’d been waiting for a moment like this.

You stared at your own screen, unmoving. The cursor blinked at you. Accusatory. You hated this part. Not the shooting. The naming.

Because naming made it real.

But you typed.

Reluctantly, clumsily, then faster.

Because you knew exactly which phrases had lived rent-free in your spine for too long.

Done.

You caught him glancing sideways. His screen dimmed just as yours did, locking your inputs.

You didn’t want to know what he’d written. But the room did.

A low mechanical hum vibrated through the air, and the wall across from you came alive. Light surged and split into fragmented holograms — each word sharp as a knife, floating midair, stuttering into full clarity. One at a time.

“Cognitive synchronization complete. Each phrase will be visualized using memory-sourced projection. Targets derived from active recall. Accuracy required. Proceed.”

You felt the data pull like a hook behind your eyes — memory sucked forward, scanned, sorted, shaped.

The first phrase came like a punch to the teeth. 

You were the safest place I knew. Until you put a ring on me and turned the lights off.

It hovered for a second, just long enough to register, and then dissolved. The smoke twisted and thickened. From it emerged a figure that stole your breath.

It was you.

Not the way you feel in mirrors, not the version eroded by grief or fury. This one was too poised, too precise. Her face was colder than you remembered yours ever being. Her beauty surgical. Her anger had been refined into stillness, and in that stillness — something worse than screaming.

She looked at Caleb like he’d failed a test she never let him study for.

You hesitated.

Your fingers twitched around the shotgun’s grip. You lifted it slightly, almost reflexively — but something inside you screamed don’t. You didn’t remember saying it like that. Not with that finality. Maybe in anger, maybe meaning something else entirely. But this version of you didn’t look like she regretted a thing.

She raised her own weapon.

You flinched.

But Caleb fired first.

The shot was sharp, efficient. Her body shattered into a scatter of static and fractured light.

You turned to him, stunned. His fingers were still trembling on the trigger. Yours were, too.

Not just by the sound of the shot, or the way your projected self shattered — but by the fact that he had pulled the trigger.

On you.

Even if it wasn’t you-you. Even if it was just light and memory, coded and cruel. He had done it. Without hesitation.

It felt final somehow. Like something sacred had cracked open and spilled out. Like you’d crossed a threshold you didn’t know existed.

Because you used to believe — no, know — that even at your ugliest, your worst, your most furious, he would never hurt you. Not like that. You had believed, with a terrifying kind of faith, that he’d sooner put a bullet through his own head than raise a weapon to yours.

And maybe that was still true. But maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe too much had decayed between you. Maybe the divorce had rewritten you both in ways neither of you were ready to see.

You didn’t want to ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Neither of you spoke. You could see in his face that the phrase had lived in him longer than you’d ever meant it to. Long enough to calcify. Long enough to echo. Long enough to ruin.

You froze, body coiled in silent expectation.

You knew what was coming. You could feel it before the text even appeared, like a static current pulling through your chest. The phrase you typed. The one you swore you wouldn’t look at when it came.

But it came anyway.

The words unfolded in slow motion, thick with memory, with everything unsaid between you. A sentence shaped like him.

I was too blinded by loving you. You only let me touch you when you wanted something. You pull my heart like a puppet on strings.

It didn’t feel like watching something. It felt like being flayed.

Your breath caught.

You fired — too soon. You missed. Glass behind the projection cracked, but the thing itself remained.

You hadn’t wanted to see it. You hadn’t wanted to hear it again. You regretted typing it. You regretted remembering it. You regretted ever giving those words a place to live inside you.

You could feel Caleb tense beside you. Not from the content — he already knew the line — but from the timing. From your reaction. From how fast you'd tried to erase it.

You gritted your teeth. Lifted the gun again. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple, cool and traitorous.

You aimed. And fired.

The figure burst apart — no scream, no sound — just a silent, violent fireworks display of red-gold pixels. Gone.

You stood there, breathing hard, hand tight on the grip, pulse roaring in your throat.

And only then did you understand.

Why he’d shot your projection first. Why it hadn’t felt like betrayal, not really.

Because these versions of you — of him — these pale ghosts, weaponized by memory and algorithm, weren’t real anymore. They were remnants. Monsters made of moments that no longer had the right to exist. Not even here, in a world built of nothing but ones and zeroes.

You hadn’t destroyed him. You’d destroyed the version of him that hurt you.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he’d done too.

More phrases came. Some his. Some yours.

Why do you always disappear?

Shot. Flash. A twist in the gut. You don’t stop moving.

I felt safer when you weren’t there.

Shot. Flash. His shoulders jerk. You catch it, pretend you didn’t.

You made me into someone I hated.

Shot. Flash. You almost drop the gun. Almost.

You wanted control more than connection.

Shot. Flash. You taste metal in your mouth. Don’t know if it’s from the memory or your own tongue.

It all becomes a blur — fragments of truth, shredded light, the weight of your weapon like a heartbeat in your hand.

Then —

One more.

It doesn’t come fast. It lands.

Like a final breath drawn sharp before the plunge.

His.

I loved you so much it destroyed me.

No shape yet. Just the words, hanging. Clean. Unfiltered. Unhidden.

Like he never got the chance to say them out loud. Like some part of him still hadn’t stopped saying them, even now.

Everything in the room goes still. Even the flicker of light quiets. And you feel it — that if you move now, everything will break.

You don’t know when the tears started. They weren’t dramatic. They didn’t sting. They just existed — like breath, like gravity. Sliding down your cheeks with the same quiet inevitability as everything else that’s ever gone wrong.

You were back there. In that moment. Before the signature. Before the sound of the pen on paper. When he looked at you across the room, and said it  — not to win you back, not to argue, not to accuse. Just to say it.

Because it was true.

And now here he was again — only not really. A pixelated Caleb. A slowed, AI-crafted echo of that same version. Stepping forward from the projection field like it remembered how he moved.

The voice that left his mouth was mechanical, but still it hit like flesh: “I loved you so much it destroyed me.”

Exactly the way he had said it then. The rhythm, the weight. The slight lift at the end that had felt like a question, a prayer, a hope too stupid to say out loud.

This ghost carried it too. You didn’t raise your gun. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t shoot that. Not the hope. Not the part that believed.

And so —

Caleb did.

No hesitation.

A clean, brutal shot that tore the projection apart mid-step. The ghost shattered like it had never mattered. Never happened. Never existed.

And then there was silence. When you turned to him, his face gave you nothing.

A mask. Still. Cold. The kind of stillness that doesn’t come from control, but from emptiness. Like your love hadn’t just hurt him.

It had hollowed him.

And maybe he was right. Maybe there really was nothing left.

“Nothing left to break,” he said quietly. “Nothing left to ruin.”

You looked at him. Eyes wide. Wet. Fragile in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Do you think I wanted this?” you asked, voice raw, like something torn.

He stared at the air where the projection had been, then turned his head slightly — just enough to catch your gaze. But his face didn’t change. He was somewhere else.

“No one wanted this,” he said. “And now we’re literally shooting pieces of ourselves. Burning through our own memories. Like wanderers. Like something foreign. Something we don’t belong to anymore.”

He looked around the room — at the shards of your past, still flickering. Smoke curling around dying light. A graveyard of ghosts you built together.

“It’s ugly,” he added. “But it’s beautiful, too. In its ruin.”

For the first time since the experiment began, you genuinely wanted to leave. Not rage-walk. Not storm out. Just… go.

Slip out the side door of your own psyche and vanish into air that didn’t taste like grief.

But there was no exit. Only forward.

Caleb moved ahead without a word. His body, usually so precise, so full of intention, now moved with the flatness of routine, of resignation. Like he, too, would rather be anywhere else — any room, any war zone, any alternate timeline — as long as it was far from this one. Far from you.

Still, you followed.

Your jaw clenched. Your breath caught sharp behind your teeth. You could feel the exhaustion sliding down your spine, thick and slow, but you didn’t let it stop you. You were going to finish this room. This experiment. This punishment. Whatever it was.

You were going to finish it with your head up. Even if, by the end, the only thing left to break was you.

And him.

Because he wasn’t stopping either.

And if the only thing you could do now was survive each other — then so be it.

The next room was vast. Empty in that curated kind of way that made chaos feel designed.

A sprawl of objects covered the floor — furniture, glass, cheap electronics, ceramic towers, crushed memories disguised as junk. It looked random, but you knew better. Nothing in this place was random.

And then there were the cars. Or what passed for cars.

Two stripped-down, reinforced vehicles — half desert racer, half post-apocalyptic scrap tank. No doors. No bodies. Just exposed frames padded with thick rubber guards. For safety. For impact.

In each one, a helmet.

You reached for the driver’s seat, fingers brushing the wheel, ignoring the helmet like it was a suggestion, not a rule — until Caleb’s voice cut in, low and sharp.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You froze. Spun on him.

“Oh, you’re giving orders now? That’s rich.”

You held the helmet by the chin strap, weighing it like you might throw it at his head.

“What about you?” you snapped. “Think I didn’t notice you weren’t planning to wear yours either?”

He didn’t answer. Just walked up to you and, with a startling lack of hesitation, jammed the helmet down onto your head. It caught on your ears. You cursed. He tightened the strap under your chin like he’d done it a hundred times. Maybe he had.

“I’ll wear mine,” he said, finally. “I know what this is. I know I’m your target.”

“That’s not the point of the exercise,” you muttered, flushed — not just from rage, but from the unbearable closeness of his fingers near your pulse.

You hated how your body still reacted. How it didn’t get the memo.

“Then let’s go,” he said, gesturing toward a tall ceramic vase as if that made anything simpler. “Hit something that won’t hit back.”

You threw yourself behind the wheel.

The engine roared awake — guttural, loud, too loud. It made your bones vibrate. Made your blood move. You wanted to scream. Instead, you pressed the gas.

At first, you aimed where you were supposed to — toward the objects. Toward the walls of cheap plaster, mannequins dressed in tattered remnants of other lives, cardboard boxes that exploded with satisfying finality under your tires. Something crunched. Something hissed. The world responded to your force. You smirked.

It felt good. But not enough.

Not with him still grinning across the room like this was just another simulation. Another exercise. Another moment where he got to stay composed while you unraveled.

And so —

You jerked the wheel. Toward him.

You slammed your foot down and the car jolted forward, rattling like a live thing. You didn’t know what you were doing. Only that you wanted impact. Needed it.

Caleb veered sharply to the right. You followed. He hit a cluster of mannequins, their limbs flying like blown petals. You turned tighter, skidding across a field of splintered boxes, your tires spitting cardboard shrapnel.

"Thought you said this wasn’t about targeting me!" he shouted over the roar of the engines.

"It’s not," you yelled back, swerving hard to chase him. "It’s about physics. You just happen to be in the way!"

He laughed. Loud. Honest. Then, dodging left, "God, you were a menace on a tricycle."

"And you were a sanctimonious little hall monitor!"

"You stole my lunch for a month!"

"You deserved it. You put raisins in everything."

“You loved raisin muffins.”

“Muffins, Caleb. Not pasta. Not rice.”

Another near-miss. You clipped the back of his car with a glorious metallic screech. He swerved, recovered, accelerated. You pushed harder.

You were hunting him now. You wanted to see him sweat. Not because you hated him, but because you couldn’t stand how much you still didn’t.

“Who gave the toddler a license?” he barked.

“Probably the same genius who made you a colonel!”

And then you caught him.

Your front bumper slammed into the side of his car with a satisfying, ugly crunch. Both vehicles jolted. Metal howled. You felt your own body snap forward, then whip back.

Then — his car spun, but yours skidded too far. You tried to correct, but it was too late.

You hit the wall.

Plywood gave way with a groan, but not enough. Your car embedded half its frame into the splintering surface, the engine sputtering, then smoking — thick, chemical breath rising like something had finally given up.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t panic. You just… stopped.

The world narrowed.

Then he was there.

You didn’t see him jump out. Didn’t see him run. But suddenly he was there, ripping open the harness, yanking the helmet off your head with shaking hands.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he snapped, eyes scanning you, touching your shoulders, your arms, your ribs like memory. “Are you hurt? Are you —? Look at me. Pips! Look at me.”

You looked. And then — smirked.

A small, crooked thing, like the aftermath of chaos.

Then you laughed.

At first, it was just breath. A puff of absurdity.  But it built. And it broke.

You laughed harder. The kind of laughter that comes too close to tears, that spills out sideways and jagged. Your whole body shook. You couldn't stop. Couldn't breathe.

And then — he did too.

His forehead pressed against yours. His chest stuttered with laughter. It wasn’t funny. It was never funny. And that’s what made it so goddamn necessary.

You clung to each other like gravity had forgotten how to work.

Your fists balled in the front of his shirt. His arms circled around your back, then up, then closed like steel around your head. He pulled you to his chest and held you there, hard, tight, like the world could crack open any second and he wasn’t going to risk letting go.

Your laughter broke first.

It caved.

And then came the sob.

One. Then another.

Your shoulders buckled. Your breath hitched. And then you were sobbing against him — ugly, heaving, violent tears that had waited far too long. Everything you hadn’t said, hadn’t allowed, hadn’t felt came pouring out in great gasping waves.

He held you like it was all he knew how to do.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

“Why does it hurt so much, Caleb?” you whispered through the sobs, your nails digging into his back. “Why did every day with you start feeling like a survival quest?”

His lips brushed your temple, featherlight. His fingers moved through your hair — slow, grounding, almost clinical in their tenderness. A rhythm. A scan. Every few strokes, the pressure shifted just slightly, as if mapping out where you carried the worst of it.

And still, you couldn’t ignore the truth: you knew exactly what he was capable of. With those same hands, he could crack your skull like a walnut. Break you clean in two.

But he didn’t. And that restraint ached just as much as anything else.

“I don’t have an answer,” he murmured. “I only know one thing. That being without you hurt worse. But the idea that you were suffering with me... That I — my own fear, my own fucking hands — destroyed the most sacred thing I ever touched...”

You shook your head and pressed your hand to his mouth. You didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. You wouldn’t survive it.

“We both did it,” you said. “You don’t get to take all the blame. It’s always two people. Always. Equal weight.”

He kissed your fingers. Gently. And you pulled your hand back like it had caught fire.

The flicker in his eyes was instant.

Pain. And something else — like memory, or the echo of wanting.

“There was a time,” he said, “when we were the closest people in the world. Cliché or not, we were a single thing. Now look at us. Look at you. I’m not even sure you want me this close.”

“No,” you snapped, gripping his shoulders. “No, don’t say that. I’m terrified of how much I need you close. I’m scared of what I might do if you keep looking at me like that. If you touch me again. I’ve been fighting since the moment we walked into this place. Fighting not to —”

“Not to what?” he growled, closer now, voice frayed.

“Not to try again,” you breathed. “Not to want again.”

His hands locked around your waist. His face was right there. Breath on breath. Your bodies a magnet of wrong time, wrong place, right everything.

But he didn’t kiss you.

He held you at the edge, suspended, with something like agony in his eyes.

“Saying that out loud,” he said through clenched teeth, “is reckless. It’s dangerous.”

“Meaning it is worse,” you said, barely audible.

You could feel his heart against your ribs — fast, raw, so human it hurt to listen. And then he said, lower now:

“Are you really this cruel? You want the last working piece of me to break, don’t you?”

“No,” you whispered, stepping back, breath shivering. “No, Caleb. If I could, I’d give everything — everything — just to take your pain away. But how can I, when I’m still living in rubble? When I don’t know how to plan for tomorrow, or next week. When I can’t even picture where I’m going. I just keep moving. Blind.”

He looked at you for a long time.

And in that look — something bottomless. Not pity. Not anger. Something like recognition. You felt it in your ribs, your spine, your breath. Like he’d looked through your skin and seen the exact same void you saw in him.

He stepped back gently. Then rose to his feet.

Wordlessly, he extended a hand to help you up. You took it. Let him lift you.

He glanced around the room, then toward the wreckage, the wall, the place where your car had finally given up.

A low huff of a laugh escaped him.

“Of course,” he muttered. “The exit’s right where you crashed.”

You followed his gaze.

He was right.

Just one thing left to break.

The wall gave way with almost no resistance. It split open like it had been waiting for the final blow. You stepped through, side by side, not speaking. And suddenly, the world shifted.

No floor. No weight. No direction. You were in a massive, sterile cylinder, suspended in air — except there was no air current, no movement, no sensation of falling. Just drift. Your feet detached from the surface, and that was it. You were floating. Weightless. Unanchored.

The space felt unreal. Too smooth. Too quiet. A hum beneath the silence, like some great system breathing in sleep. High above, three exit hatches blinked with dull blue light — two narrow, one wide. The single exits were clearly labeled. The larger one read: DUO. Beneath it, a platform hovered, inert. A voice filtered in through the chamber, calm and cold.

“Three exits. One for each individual. One for those who remain. Shared exit requires cooperative locomotion and continuous dual contact. Time limit: irrelevant. Success requires choice.”

You drifted. He drifted. You turned your head and saw him across the space, his body slow-spinning, expression tight. This was supposed to be his realm. Gravity. That was his Evol, his identity, his anchor. But here, it was nothing. Disabled. Cut off. You could see the glitch in him, the way he processed the loss of control. And still, he didn’t panic. He just… adjusted.

You floated near one of the solo exits. It would be so easy. A small push. An end. A beginning. Alone. And then it passed behind you.

You saw him again, a little closer this time. You reached out, almost without thinking, and caught his hand. No rush. No symbolism. Just fingers brushing fingers in a place without weight.

Your hands gripped. Held. And you pulled yourself in, gently, until your faces were close enough for words. Your breath felt warm between you, even in the cold of engineered air.

“I’m not ready to leave here without you,” you said. “I don’t know what that means, or what it’ll cost. But I’m not ready.”

He didn’t speak immediately. His hand tightened on yours. Then, suddenly focused, he said, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

You blinked. “What —”

“Trust me. I can’t bend the field in here, but I can feel the currents — like micro-resistance. If we stay connected, I think I can guide us through it.” His voice shifted into command mode — confident, steady, and irritatingly hot. “Angle your hips left. No, a little more. Perfect. Now shift your weight forward.”

You moved with him. It felt awkward at first, like trying to learn to breathe underwater. But then something clicked — your center of gravity merged, found alignment, caught onto an invisible pulse. Like tuning into a frequency only his body knew how to hear.

“There,” he said. “We’re in it.”

You glided, slowly at first, then more directly. He adjusted, compensated, kept you level. He took you through the space like a conductor feeling the music in muscle and bone.

The platform under the shared exit blinked to life as you approached.

“Now,” he said, and reached out. Together, you hit the button.

Gravity returned in a single, devastating second. You dropped like a stone — feet on solid ground, air in your lungs, heat in your skin. You didn’t let go of each other. Not right away.

Not yet.

What came next stunned you. 

Where pain and rage had once lived like permanent tenants, there was only silence. You no longer felt the urge to scream, to break something, to tear through walls or claw through your own skin. Something had been rewritten in you. Recoded. As if the metaphysical cancer had been excised. Removed without anesthesia, yes — but removed all the same.

You took one step. Then another. And your body felt different. Not like it did in zero-gravity, not quite. But something remained of that lightness. That sense of floating just above your own sorrow.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he. Words would have broken the seal on something sacred.

You emerged into the final hallway together. Unspoken choreography. At the return counter, you shed the gear — gloves, goggles, names. One of the staff blinked, visibly surprised, and said, almost to himself, “No one’s ever mastered the gravity room that fast.” Then louder, “Would you like photos?”

You looked at the screen, flipping quickly past the chaos, the fracture, the violence. You stopped on the frame where the two of you floated — just suspended, hands clasped, nowhere to go but together. You tapped it. Took the printout without a word.

Caleb printed something for himself, too. You didn’t see what.

You walked outside. It was already dark, the wind sharp against your cheeks. The kind of cold that wakes you up, reminds you that you’re still alive.

Without meaning to, your bodies shifted toward familiar geography — toward your place. Once his, too.

And then, like nothing had changed and everything had, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. No words. No offer. Just instinct.

You didn’t argue. The fabric was warm. And it smelled like him. Like worn-in leather and something sharp underneath. You let it settle.

“What do you regret most?” you asked, quietly, almost to yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t have. But you knew, with sudden clarity, that whatever came now — wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe it would be sad. But it wouldn’t be cruel.

“That I gave up too soon,” he said, after a moment.

You laughed softly. “Too soon? You followed me for three months. After work. To the grocery store. You left flowers in my bike basket. Random books on my doorstep.”

He gave a crooked shrug, not quite defensive. “It sounds stupid now. Hollow. But I didn’t know what else to do. How else to tell you I was trying. That I was willing to change. That I just needed you to hear me.”

“To me it felt like a trap,” you said. “Like you were setting bait. Like you wanted to pin me down and hold me there. In the state I was in... if you’d just disappeared for a week, I probably would’ve come running. In tears. Begging you not to leave again.”

He sighed. “So I got it wrong. Again.”

“Not wrong, exactly.” You looked at him, then ahead. The street was quiet. Your block already in sight. “That’s the problem, I think. For both of us. We keep thinking we know better. Like I assume I know what you need, when really, it’s just what I need.”

You glanced at him. “Like you dreaming your whole life of this expensive model starship. Then giving it to me. Thinking it would make me happy. Because it would make you happy.”

His smile came slow, bittersweet. “And all you ever wanted was someone to just sit on the porch and look at the moon.”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

By then, you were already at the gate. Home.

You stopped. Both of you.

You didn’t reach for your keys. He didn’t move forward. Just standing there, jacket on your shoulders, silence resting comfortably between your bodies.

“Caleb…” you said softly, already knowing you didn’t need to finish.

He sighed. The kind of sigh that had learned to carry meaning. “I don’t have an answer,” he said. “I want to try again. And I don’t. I dream about holding you every night, and then I wake up. And it’s… cruel.”

“I have the same thoughts,” you admitted. “But I can’t just erase you. Not now. Not ever. And I’ll never be the one to suggest we stay friends.”

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Technically, you just did.”

“I said I’d never say it,” you shot back, lifting your chin. “Not that I said it.”

There was a beat, then you added, “What if we let chance decide?”

“A coin toss?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No. The photos. The ones we printed. If they match — if they’re even close — I’ll invite you in. For tea.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Tea. Very non-committal of you.”

“If they don’t match,” you continued, “then maybe… it’s not the time. Maybe we see each other again. Maybe we don’t.”

“You always did like risk,” he said dryly. “Alright. No promises.”

“No promises,” you echoed.

“On three?”

You both pulled out your photos at the same time. Held them up.

The silence stretched.

“Well then,” you said.

“Yeah,” he murmured, the edge of a smile in his voice.

“I have only one question,” you said, turning toward the door, your voice lighter now, teasing. “Black or green?”

He gave a soft huff and curled his arm gently around your waist, guiding you toward the entrance. “Like you don’t already know.”

“I do,” you said, slipping the photo back into your bag. 

The exact same photo. Identical in angle, in light, in pause. The moment where you floated together. Still not touching. But already not letting go.

The... END?

So… you survived the end. But is it really the end?

Let’s be honest — I wrote a scene. A very explicit one. The kind I haven’t posted before. Spicy, slow, and entirely too much in the best/worst way. But after everything that happened in this story, slapping it on the end felt… wrong. Like putting a silk ribbon on a smoking crater. So I cut it.

But. If this hits 100 reblogs in 24h, I’ll post the continuation I cut — the scene that didn’t fit the concept, because it was too much: too raw, too intimate, too honest. But also... very, very smutty. And maybe the only kind of peace these two could’ve found. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve earned it. Let’s see if they do.

[glowettee]

✧˖° the identity shift: start thinking like an A+ student

post 1

💭 before you even touch your notes, before you highlight a single word, before you drown in exam stress. change how you think about yourself.

most people study with the mindset of “i hope i do well” instead of “i am the kind of person who excels.” and that’s the difference. if you want to start acing your exams, your first step isn’t flashcards or practice tests. it’s shifting your identity. because an A+ student doesn’t just work hard, they think, act, and exist differently.

this is the second post to the final exam survival series. the last post, was focused on how to actually enjoy learning and using that to motivate yourself for school. this post will focus on shifting your identify, which can also work great for manifesting and law of attraction/assumption. i will try to give you the best possible tips to help you shift your mindset to already have the A+ mentality. love you guys <3 - mindy

disclaimer: please don't think i expect you to be perfect, i use 'A+ student' as a way to help you when using loa or manifesting. YOU ARE A HUMAN; DO NOT THINK YOU NEED TO MEET STANDARDS TO BE PERFECT! i love you all and wanted to make sure you know i am NOT setting an unrealistic standard. this post is to help you with manifesting good grades and to inspire you. not for toxic motivation or unrealistic standard setting. - mindy

✧˖° ➼ 01. stop identifying as “bad at studying”

you will never outperform the identity you attach to yourself. if you keep telling yourself: ➝ “i suck at this subject.”➝ “i’ve never been good at exams.”➝ “i’m just not a naturally smart person.”

then you’ll stay stuck. why? because your brain is wired to prove yourself right. but when you shift to: ➝ “i am fully capable of mastering this material.”➝ “i am becoming an A+ student.”➝ “i study in a way that works for me.”

your actions start aligning with that belief. the way you approach studying changes. and suddenly? you’re not “bad at it” anymore.

✧ homework: rewrite every negative academic belief you’ve held about yourself into a new, empowering one. read them before every study session.

✧˖° ➼ 02. start acting like an A+ student right now

not when you feel “ready.” not when you’re already good at the subject. right now.

✨ an A+ student doesn’t: • cram the night before and hope for the best • avoid studying because it feels overwhelming • rely on last-minute motivation to get things done

✨ an A+ student does: • plan their study sessions like an actual strategy • break down material into small, digestible pieces • work consistently, even when they don’t “feel like it”

✧ homework: take one small action today that your A+ student self would take. even if it’s just organizing your study space or making a realistic revision schedule.

✧˖° ➼ 03. use strategic learning, not just memorization

most students study to remember. A+ students study to understand. if you keep forcing yourself to memorize facts with no deeper connection, you’re setting yourself up for forgetting everything under pressure.

🖇 better study strategies:• teach the material → pretend you're tutoring someone who knows nothing about it. if you can explain it simply, you truly understand it. • apply what you learn → don’t just read about a formula, actually use it in practice questions. don’t just memorize historical dates, understand their impact. • switch up your methods → your brain loves novelty. use diagrams, study cards, summarization, and active recall instead of just rereading notes.

✧ homework: find one concept you’ve been struggling with and try teaching it to yourself out loud as if you were giving a TED talk.

✧˖° ➼ 04. start believing you deserve high grades

subconsciously, a lot of people don’t actually believe they’re the kind of person who gets top marks. they might think: ❝ i’ve never been a straight-A student, so why start now? ❞ ❝ my past grades weren’t amazing, i probably won’t do much better. ❞

but what if you let yourself believe otherwise? what if you fully accepted that you deserve to succeed just as much as anyone else? because you do. and the moment you believe that, you start acting in ways that make it true.

✧ homework: visualize yourself receiving your dream grade. feel the confidence of knowing you earned it. then ask yourself: what would my future self tell me to start doing right now?

✧˖° ➼ 05. control your environment like a top student

your surroundings play a huge role in your academic identity. A+ students set themselves up for success by designing an environment that makes focus effortless.

🖇 small shifts that make a huge difference: • keep your study space clean & minimal (no distractions) • use a dedicated study playlist to trigger focus mode • have a go-to beverage (tea, coffee, water) to make studying feel like a ritual • wear comfortable but put-together clothes to signal to your brain that it’s time to work • remove your phone from your workspace entirely (or use app blockers)

✧ homework: make one intentional change to your study environment today. observe how it affects your focus.

✧˖° ➼ 06. stop waiting for motivation

A+ students know that motivation is fleeting. they don’t rely on feeling “in the mood” to study. instead, they: ➝ create systems (set study times, routines) ➝ make studying automatic (habit, not a debate) ➝ use momentum (just start. five minutes can turn into an hour)

✧ homework: set a 10-minute timer and study right now. no overthinking, no debating. just start.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips

💌 your identity is everything. if you don’t believe you’re an A+ student yet, start acting like it anyway. your mindset will catch up. 💌 make studying feel aesthetic. wear cute study outfits, light a candle, make it a whole vibe. enjoyable studying = effective studying. 💌 romanticize the glow-up. your academic transformation is a story. imagine looking back and realizing this was the moment everything changed. 💌 you are not behind. you can reinvent yourself as a top student at any time. even now. even today.

xoxo mindy

[pinkmoontaco]

Fated to Love You || Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: Idol Scoups X Solo Idol Y/n Genre: Romance/Angst/Second chance romance/Drama Plot: After a highly publicized breakup with Seungcheol, Y/n finds herself caught between the past and the present as she navigates love, heartbreak, and the pressures of fame. With the world watching her every move, unexpected encounters, media scandals, and unresolved emotions complicate her journey. As tensions rise and feelings resurface, she is faced with a choice—one that could change everything. Authors note: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I’m finally back with a new story! I’ve put a lot of effort into this one, and I really hope you all give it a chance. Writing this wasn’t easy, but your support always keeps me going. Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me—I truly appreciate it! Please keep commenting; your words inspire me more than you know. Hope you enjoy the story! Love you guys 💕✨

Feel free to make requests

M.list

The bustling chaos of the airport filled Y/n’s senses. She pulled her cap lower over her face and adjusted her sunglasses, hoping to slip past unnoticed. It was her first public appearance since announcing the cancellation of her engagement, and she knew the media frenzy that awaited her.

But the fans were relentless. As she walked toward the departure gate, a small crowd gathered around her, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of questions.

“Y/n! Is it true you and Seungcheol broke up because of Sewon?”

“Do you regret ending the engagement?”

“What happened between you and Seungcheol?”

Y/n stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. She forced a calm expression, though her hands trembled as she gripped the strap of her bag.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be answering any personal questions today,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The cameras continued to flash, and the murmurs grew louder, but Y/n kept walking. Her chest tightened with every step, each question cutting deeper than she cared to admit. By the time she reached her gate, she felt like she could barely breathe.

Finding a quiet corner, she slumped into a seat and closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay hidden. The echoes of the fans’ words lingered in her mind, reopening wounds she thought she had begun to heal. But as painful as it was, Y/n reminded herself why she had made the decision to walk away. It was for her own peace, her own worth things she refused to compromise any longer.

Seungcheol stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. He had hesitated so many times before, unsure if she would even want to hear from him. But tonight, the emptiness in his apartment felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the need to hear her voice.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed the call button. The line rang, each tone dragging out the silence he dreaded. Finally, the call went to voicemail.

“Hey, Y/n,” he began, his voice low and uncertain. “It’s me. I… I just wanted to check on you. I know I don’t have the right to ask, but I hope you’re doing okay. I miss you."

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“I… I’m sorry for everything. I hope someday we can talk. Take care, Y/n.”

Ending the call, Seungcheol let out a shaky breath and set the phone down. The emptiness lingered, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope—however small—that things might one day be different.

A day later, Seungcheol sat in front of his phone camera, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. He had debated for hours about making this video, but the backlash Y/n was facing left him no choice.

Pressing record, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Hi, this is Seungcheol. I know a lot has been said and speculated about my relationship with Y/n and the engagement we ended. I want to start by saying that Y/n has always been someone I deeply respect and care for. The decision we made to part ways was mutual, and it was a deeply personal matter.”

He paused, his eyes glancing down briefly before returning to the camera. “But what I cannot stand by and watch is the way she’s being harassed and blamed. Y/n does not deserve the hate or the accusations being thrown at her. She made the decision that was best for her, and I respect that wholeheartedly.”

Seungcheol leaned forward slightly, his tone growing firmer. “I also want to address the rumors about Sewon. She is a friend, nothing more. Any assumptions beyond that are untrue and have caused unnecessary pain to everyone involved.”

He exhaled slowly, as if releasing the weight of his words. “I’m asking, sincerely, for everyone to stop harassing Y/n. She deserves peace and privacy, just as any of us do. Please be kind. Thank you.”

With that, he ended the recording and uploaded the video, hoping it would help ease the storm Y/n was facing. As he sat back, he realized that while he couldn’t undo the past, he could at least try to make things right in the present.

Two days later, Seungcheol found himself dialing Y/n’s number once again. To his surprise, this time, she answered.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice was calm but distant, guarded.

“Y/n,” Seungcheol said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Thank you for answering. I just… I needed to talk to you.”

She remained silent, and he took it as his cue to continue. “I know I hurt you. I know I let you down in ways I can’t even begin to make up for. But I want you to know how sorry I am. Truly. You didn’t deserve any of this—the doubts, the pain, the public scrutiny. None of it.”

“Seungcheol,” she interrupted, her tone sharp yet composed. “I didn’t answer this call to hear your apology. I’ve heard it before. What I needed from you was action, not words. And you failed me when it mattered most.”

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words cutting through him. “I know. I just… I hoped there might be a way to fix this. To fix us.”

“There’s no fixing this,” Y/n said firmly. “Not anymore. I gave everything to this relationship, and I lost myself in the process. I won’t do that again.”

Her words were final, and Seungcheol felt his chest tighten. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I just want you to be happy, Y/n. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I hope you find happiness too,” she replied

Three years ago

Under the bright lights of Y/n’s solo concert, Seungcheol and the members of Seventeen stood backstage, waiting for the show to begin. The crowd’s energy was electric, and their excitement mirrored the audience’s.

When Y/n finally took the stage, she owned it. Her presence was magnetic, her voice captivating as she performed with a passion that seemed to radiate beyond the stage. Seungcheol found himself mesmerized, his admiration growing with every song.

“She’s incredible,” Jeonghan whispered, nudging him. “No wonder everyone’s in love with her.”

Seungkwan nodded enthusiastically. “She’s not just talented; she’s got this aura. It’s impossible not to admire her.”

As Y/n finished her set and thanked the audience, her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire arena. Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel a spark of something deeper—a connection he couldn’t quite explain.

When they were finally introduced backstage, Y/n was gracious and warm despite the exhaustion evident in her eyes. She greeted each member with genuine kindness, and when her gaze met Seungcheol’s, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“You were amazing out there,” he said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile soft and sincere. “I’ve heard so much about you and your group. It’s an honor to finally meet you all.”

That night, Seungcheol found himself lingering after the others had left, gathering the courage to speak again. “Y/n,” he began, his voice quieter this time, “I was wondering… if you’d like to grab coffee sometime. Just us.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, surprise flickering across her face. Then, she smiled—a real, genuine smile that made his heart race. “I’d like that,” she said simply.

And so, it began. Coffee turned into late-night conversations, shared laughter, and a deep bond that grew stronger with each passing day. For Seungcheol, falling in love with Y/n was as natural as breathing, and in her presence, he felt like he had found a kindred spirit. The world seemed brighter, and the burdens of their demanding careers felt lighter when they were together.

Though their love story had its share of challenges, those early days were a reminder of the connection that had once brought them so much joy. And even now, as Seungcheol reflected on everything they had lost, he couldn’t help but cherish the moments that had made him fall in love with her in the first place.

As their coffee meetings turned into a weekly ritual, Seungcheol found himself looking forward to those moments more than anything else. Y/n had a way of making him laugh, even on his worst days. She listened intently, offering advice when he needed it and silence when words weren’t enough.

One evening, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, Seungcheol showed up at their favorite cafe, his exhaustion evident. Y/n noticed immediately and pushed a steaming cup of tea toward him.

“You look like you’ve been through a war,” she teased gently.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that. But seeing you makes it all worth it.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she hid it behind her own cup. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Choi Seungcheol.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with a playful smirk. “It got me here with you, didn’t it?”

Their banter flowed effortlessly, the connection between them growing deeper with every interaction. Over time, Seungcheol began to realize that Y/n wasn’t just someone he admired—she was someone he wanted by his side, through every high and low.

One night, as they walked along a quiet street after another coffee date, Seungcheol stopped abruptly. Y/n turned to him, puzzled.

“What is it?” she asked.

He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, he took a deep breath. “Y/n, I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, but… I like you. A lot. And I was wondering if you’d give us a chance—like, a real chance.”

Y/n stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he feared he had ruined everything. But then she smiled, her eyes softening.

“I’d like that,” she said simply.

Relief and joy washed over Seungcheol, and without thinking, he reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand gently, and they continued walking, their steps perfectly in sync.

It was the beginning of a love story that would change both of their lives forever.

Three years into their relationship, Seungcheol knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted Y/n to know how deeply she meant to him and how much he wanted to build a future together. With the help of the Seventeen members, he meticulously planned the proposal.

The venue was a private rooftop garden, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and surrounded by blooming flowers. It was the same place they had shared their first late-night conversation about their dreams and fears. Seungcheol wanted the moment to feel intimate, just as their relationship had always been—a sanctuary from the chaotic world around them.

Y/n arrived at the venue under the pretense of a casual date. As she stepped onto the rooftop, her breath hitched at the sight before her. A path lined with candles led to Seungcheol, who stood waiting under an arch draped in soft, white fabric and flowers.

He smiled nervously as she approached, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “You’re here,” he said, his voice tinged with both excitement and nerves.

“What is all this?” she asked, her eyes glimmering with curiosity and emotion.

Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol dropped to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box from his pocket. Y/n gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “From the moment I met you, you turned my world upside down in the best way possible. You’ve been my rock, my partner, and my greatest love. Every day with you feels like a gift, and I can’t imagine my life without you by my side.”

He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

Tears streamed down Y/n’s face as she nodded, unable to find the words. “Yes,” she finally managed to say, her voice breaking. “A thousand times yes.”

Seungcheol stood, slipping the ring onto her finger before pulling her into a tight embrace. The sound of soft applause broke out as the Seventeen members emerged from their hiding spots, cheering and congratulating the newly engaged couple.

The night was filled with laughter, love, and promises for the future. For Seungcheol and Y/n, it was a moment they would treasure forever—a testament to the love that had grown between them, steady and unwavering, through every challenge and triumph.

But as the weeks passed, cracks began to appear in their seemingly perfect engagement. It started when Seungcheol grew closer to Sewon, a fellow idol he had known for years. Initially, Y/n didn’t mind; she trusted Seungcheol and knew how important friendships were in their industry. But gradually, his priorities seemed to shift.

Missed calls, delayed responses, and canceled plans became more frequent. Whenever Y/n tried to address the issue, Seungcheol brushed it off, claiming he was busy with group schedules and projects. However, Y/n couldn’t ignore the pattern: most of his excuses coincided with him spending time with Sewon.

One evening, after yet another postponed dinner, Y/n decided to confront him. She waited for him in their shared apartment, her heart heavy with unease. When he finally walked through the door, his tired expression did little to soften her resolve.

“Seungcheol, we need to talk,” she said firmly.

He sighed, dropping his bag onto the couch. “Can it wait? I’m exhausted.”

“No, it can’t,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “You’ve been distant lately, and I feel like I’m not even a priority anymore. What’s going on?”

He rubbed his temples, frustration flickering across his face. “Y/n, I told you, it’s just work. You know how demanding our schedules are.”

“Is it work?” she pressed, her eyes searching his. “Or is it Sewon?”

At her words, Seungcheol’s expression hardened. “Why are you bringing her into this? She’s just a friend.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m competing with her for your attention?” Y/n’s voice cracked, the pain she had been suppressing spilling out. “You cancel our plans to meet her, you talk about her all the time, and you don’t even see how it’s affecting us.”

“You’re overthinking this,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. “Sewon has nothing to do with us. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Y/n took a step back, stunned by his dismissiveness. “Nothing?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you even hear yourself, Seungcheol? I’ve tried to be patient, to understand, but I can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to choose us,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “But it feels like you’ve already made your choice.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily between them. Seungcheol opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself. Instead, he turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Y/n standing alone in the living room, her heart breaking.

The days that followed were filled with strained conversations and unspoken tension. Y/n tried to hold on, hoping that Seungcheol would realize what was at stake, but his continued indifference only deepened the rift between them. Meanwhile, the rumors about him and Sewon began to spread, fueled by fan speculation and media reports.

Y/n found herself caught in a storm of doubt and heartbreak, unsure of how to salvage a relationship that seemed to be slipping through her fingers. And as much as she loved Seungcheol, she couldn’t ignore the growing feeling that she was fighting for something he no longer valued.

One rainy afternoon, Y/n received a message from Seungcheol, asking to meet at a small café they used to frequent during the early days of their relationship. Despite her reservations, she agreed, hoping for clarity amidst the chaos.

As she entered the café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft jazz music greeted her. Seungcheol was already there, sitting at a corner table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but there was a hesitance in his gaze.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as she sat down across from him.

Y/n nodded, folding her hands on the table. “What did you want to talk about?”

Seungcheol sighed, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us… about everything.”

“And?” Y/n prompted, her heart pounding in anticipation.

“I don’t think I’m ready for marriage,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m too young. There’s so much going on in my career, and I feel like I’m being pulled in so many directions.”

Y/n stared at him, her chest tightening. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Before proposing?”

“I thought I could handle it,” he said, his eyes filled with regret. “I thought my love for you would be enough to overcome everything else. But now, I’m not so sure.”

Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Do you even want to be with me, Seungcheol? Or am I just another thing you’re unsure about?”

“Of course I want to be with you,” he said quickly, reaching across the table for her hand. She pulled away, shaking her head.

“You can’t have it both ways,” she said, her voice breaking. “You can’t ask me to commit my life to you while you’re unsure about yours.”

Her voice was sharper now, the edge of frustration cutting through. “Is it about Sewon?”

Seungcheol’s silence spoke louder than words. Sewon’s name had become a sore point between them in recent months. A close friend and fellow idol, her bond with Seungcheol had always been evident. While Y/n had trusted him implicitly, the whispers of fans and the media began to seep into her mind, planting seeds of doubt.

“She’s just a friend,” he said, but his tone lacked conviction. “You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/n’s voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried so hard to mask. “Do you realize how it feels to constantly see her by your side, laughing with you, leaning on you? And the worst part? You’ve never once tried to reassure me."

Seungcheol reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers. “I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for this relationship?” She pulled her hand away, tears threatening to spill. “We’re supposed to be partners, Seungcheol. But lately, it feels like I’m competing for your attention.”

“Maybe… maybe we need some time apart,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n felt her heart shatter. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a burden, its brilliance mocking her pain. She slipped it off and placed it on the table between them.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “Then I won’t stop you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Y/n felt her heart shatter. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a burden, its brilliance mocking her pain. She slipped it off and placed it on the table between them.

Y/n stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “You already have.” Without another word, she walked out of the café, leaving Seungcheol sitting alone, the weight of his choices pressing down on him like never before.

*Flashback ends*

In the weeks that followed, Y/n channeled her heartbreak into her music. Late nights in the studio became her solace as she poured her emotions into lyrics and melodies. Each song she wrote was raw and vulnerable, capturing the pain, confusion, and longing she felt.

When her album was released, it became an instant hit, resonating with fans and critics alike. Tracks like "Falling Out of Love" and "Shadows of Us" topped the charts, their haunting lyrics striking a chord with listeners. In interviews, Y/n remained composed, describing the album as a reflection of her personal journey but never delving into specific details about her relationship with Seungcheol.

One particular song, "Unspoken Goodbye," drew widespread attention. Its lyrics painted a vivid picture of unreciprocated efforts and the ache of realizing love wasn’t enough to hold two people together.

“I reached for you in the dark, but you were already gone. Promises turned to whispers, and now I sing alone.”

Fans speculated endlessly, piecing together clues from the lyrics and her recent public appearances. Some sympathized with her, while others continued to draw comparisons between her and Sewon, fueling debates online.

Through it all, Y/n remained focused on her craft, using her art to heal. Though her heart was still mending, her music gave her

Months after the release, Y/n was invited for an exclusive interview with a renowned media outlet. The interviewer, known for their probing questions, eventually brought up the topic that many were curious about.

“How do you feel about Seungcheol now?” they asked, leaning forward slightly. “After everything that’s happened, do you still think about him?”

Y/n paused, her hands resting gently on her lap as she considered her words. She met the interviewer’s gaze, her expression calm but tinged with melancholy. “A piece of my heart will always love him,” she admitted, her voice steady but soft. “I could never hate him. He was a significant part of my life, and what we shared was real and meaningful.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “It hurts me to see him getting hurt. Despite everything, I don’t wish pain or hardship upon him. I think that’s what love truly is—wanting the best for someone, even if they’re no longer in your life.”

Her candid response resonated with fans and viewers alike, painting a picture of grace and emotional maturity. It reminded everyone that even in heartbreak, love could leave behind a legacy of compassion and understanding.

Seungcheol watched the interview late at night, alone in his apartment. Her words echoed in his mind, filling him with a mix of regret and longing. The song, the interview, everything she had shared publicly—it all made him realize just how deeply he had hurt her and how much he missed having her in his life.

On an impulse, he picked up his phone and dialed her number. It rang twice before she answered, her voice cautious. “Hello?”

“Y/n, it’s me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I—I saw the interview. And the song. I just… I needed to tell you how sorry I am. For everything.”

She was silent for a moment before responding. “Seungcheol, we’ve already been through this. I’ve moved on, and you should too.”

“I know I messed up,” he said desperately. “But seeing you, hearing your words—it reminded me of everything we had. I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

Her voice remained calm but firm. “You miss what we had, Seungcheol, but that doesn’t change what you did. You made choices that hurt me deeply, and I can’t just forget that.”

“I’ll do anything to make it right,” he pleaded. “Please, just give me another chance.”

She sighed softly, her tone filled with a mixture of sadness and finality. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough. I’ll always wish the best for you, but I can’t go back to the way things were. Take care of yourself, Seungcheol.”

Before he could say anything else, she ended the call, leaving him staring at his phone, the weight of her words sinking in. For the first time, he truly understood that some things, no matter how much he wished otherwise, couldn’t be undone.

Months passed, and Y/n eventually entered a new relationship. Her new boyfriend was kind, understanding, and patient—everything she thought she needed to heal. On the surface, they seemed happy together, and the public saw it as her fresh start.

But deep down, Y/n couldn’t shake the emptiness she felt. The laughter didn’t feel as genuine, the conversations didn’t spark the same warmth, and despite her efforts to move on, her heart still ached for the love she had lost.

She found herself reminiscing about Seungcheol more often than she cared to admit—his bright smile, the way he always made her feel safe, the late-night talks where they dreamed about their future together. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, a part of her still belonged to him.

And no matter how much she wanted to forget, she couldn’t.

One evening, Y/n took the stage at a major rock festival, her energy electrifying the crowd. She had always loved experimenting with different genres, and this performance was one of her most powerful yet—raw, intense, and full of emotion. She poured her heart into every note, her voice carrying the weight of everything she had been through.

Backstage, her old friend Seungkwan watched from the wings, deeply moved by her performance. He had always been close to Y/n and seeing her like this—fierce yet fragile—made him realize how much she was still hurting.

Unable to ignore it any longer, he reached out to Seungcheol. “Hyung, you need to come see her. You need to hear her.”

Despite his initial hesitation, Seungcheol agreed. The two arrived at the concert venue unnoticed, blending into the sea of fans as Y/n performed.

Seungcheol’s heart clenched as he watched her under the bright lights, singing her heart out. He could feel her pain in every lyric, see the lingering sadness in her eyes. It was a painful reminder of everything they had lost.

And in that moment, he realized—he had never stopped loving her.

The moment Y/n stepped off the stage, her adrenaline was still pumping. The roar of the crowd echoed in her ears, but even their deafening cheers couldn’t drown out the heaviness in her heart. She barely had time to catch her breath before a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Y/n.”

She froze.

That voice. That tone.

She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she met Seungcheol’s gaze. He stood just a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those same eyes she once drowned in—were filled with something raw. Something she wasn’t ready to face.

Before she could say a word, her boyfriend Minseong appeared by her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, glancing between Y/n and Seungcheol.

The tension was suffocating. The members of Seventeen and her own group lingered nearby, uneasy, unsure if they should step in.

Seungcheol let out a bitter chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So this is him?” His voice was sharp, edged with something close to resentment. “The guy you moved on with?”

Y/n’s jaw clenched. “Cheol—”

“Did he ever make your heart race the way I did?” Seungcheol asked, his voice rising. “Or did you just force yourself to move on because you were scared?”

The room fell silent.

Y/n took a shaky breath, her eyes burning. “You don’t get to do this,” she snapped. “You don’t get to walk back into my life after all this time and question my choices. You were the one who let me go.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, his frustration bubbling over. “Let you go? Y/n, you walked away!” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, the anger wavered, revealing the hurt beneath. “You left me. And now you’re here, acting like none of it meant anything?”

“It meant everything,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “And that’s exactly why I had to leave.”

Her boyfriend shifted awkwardly beside her. “Maybe we should talk about this later—”

“No.” Y/n shook her head, eyes locked onto Seungcheol. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the only one who suffered. Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I didn’t spend nights wondering if I made the right choice?”

Seungcheol’s breath hitched.

Y/n’s hands balled into fists. “I waited, Cheol. I waited for you to fight for me, to give me a reason to stay. But you didn’t. You let me leave. So don’t you dare show up now, acting like you still have a say in my life.”

Seungcheol stared at her, chest rising and falling with the weight of everything he wanted to say. The members of Seventeen shifted uneasily, exchanging glances.

Seungkwan finally stepped in, his voice gentle but firm. “Hyung, maybe this isn’t the right time—”

But Seungcheol ignored him. His eyes stayed on Y/n, desperate, pleading. “Tell me one thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you really happy?”

Y/n faltered.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

And in that silence, Seungcheol got his answer.

The morning after the heated confrontation backstage, the internet was in chaos. News outlets, gossip sites, and social media platforms were flooded with headlines, each twisting the story in its own way.

"Y/n and Seungcheol's Backstage Clash: Former Lovers Turn to Heated Argument at Music Festival!"

"Caught on Camera: Y/n and Seungcheol's Explosive Fight – Tensions Boil Over in Front of Seventeen and Industry Insiders!"

"Seungcheol Confronts Y/n Over Their Past – Did She Ever Move On?"

Fan-recorded videos from the concert venue circulated online, showing snippets of their intense exchange. Though no official statement had been released, lip readers and “insiders” claimed to have deciphered the argument. The drama escalated as netizens took sides.

🗣️ "Y/n deserves to move on. Seungcheol had his chance, why is he acting up now?"

🗣️ "You can literally see the pain in Seungcheol's face... he's still in love with her."

🗣️ "Not Seungcheol pulling a ‘are you really happy?’ moment like it’s a K-drama 😭😭"

🗣️ "Her new boyfriend just standing there while Y/n and Seungcheol basically confess their unresolved feelings 💀"

Within hours, major entertainment news outlets picked up the story. Some reporters speculated on whether the ex-couple had lingering feelings, while others accused Seungcheol of being possessive. Articles broke down the timeline of their past relationship, analyzing every interaction they’d had in public since their breakup.

A particularly viral article from Dispatch read:

"Inside Y/n and Seungcheol’s Emotional Backstage Confrontation: A Love That Never Faded?"

"Sources close to the artists claim that the fight was years in the making. ‘They never fully moved on from each other,’ an anonymous staff member revealed. ‘Everyone knew there was unfinished business between them.’"

Another gossip site went even further:

"Did Y/n Settle for a ‘Safe’ Relationship? Fans Speculate That Her New Boyfriend is Just a Rebound!"

Y/n’s company quickly released a short statement:

"Y/n had a private conversation with a colleague. We ask for your understanding and request that unfounded speculations be avoided."

But Seungcheol’s company remained silent, fueling more rumors. Some fans believed it was because he had nothing to deny.

Meanwhile, Seventeen’s members were being bombarded with questions during schedules. Seungkwan, who had been there that night, looked visibly uncomfortable when asked about it during a live stream.

“Ah… it’s not my place to say anything,” he murmured, avoiding eye contact with the camera. “I just hope people don’t believe everything they read online.”

Three days after the backstage altercation between Y/n and Seungcheol shook the internet, the idol finally addressed the controversy.

At midnight, Seungcheol went live on Weverse, looking visibly tired. Dressed in a simple hoodie and cap, he sighed before speaking, his voice softer than usual.

“First of all, I want to sincerely apologize to the fans,” he began, his fingers laced together as he bowed slightly. “I never wanted to cause a scandal or bring unnecessary attention to anyone, especially Y/n. That night… things got emotional, and I let my feelings get the best of me.”

He paused, exhaling shakily. “I know many of you have seen the videos and read the articles. There’s no excuse for what happened. It was a private conversation that, unfortunately, became very public. And for that, I take full responsibility.”

His eyes flickered with emotion as he hesitated before continuing. “I also won’t lie to you. The truth is… I never stopped caring about Y/n.”

The comment section exploded instantly.

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his hands slightly shaking. “I don’t expect anything to change. She has her own life now, and I respect that. But I also don’t want to pretend anymore.”

💬 “DID HE JUST CONFESS???”

💬 “Wait wait wait HOLD ON.”

💬 “HE STILL LOVES HER??? SEUNGCHEOL WTF”

💬 “Someone check on Y/n’s boyfriend bc there’s no way he’s okay rn 💀”

“I loved her. I still do. And that’s something I can’t hide, no matter how much time passes.”

A heavy silence filled the air. The weight of his confession was undeniable.

“I don’t regret what we had, and I will always be grateful for the memories. But I also know that some things… can’t be undone,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, I just want her to be happy.”

He looked straight into the camera. “To the fans who were disappointed in me, I’m sorry. To Y/n, if you ever see this… I’m sorry for putting you through this again.”

With one final bow, he ended the live.

But the internet was just getting started.

Within minutes, hashtags like #SeungcheolApologizes, #CheolStillLovesY/n, and #Y/nResponseWhen? trended worldwide. Fans were divided—some heartbroken over his pain, others hopeful that this was the beginning of something new.

A few days after Seungcheol’s confession sent the internet into a frenzy, Seungkwan found himself standing outside Y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting on his feet. He had sent her a text earlier, asking if he could talk, and to his surprise, she had agreed.

When the door finally opened, Y/n stood there, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face. She looked tired—exhausted, really. And Seungkwan hated knowing that he had contributed to it.

She stepped aside, allowing him in without a word. He hesitated for a second before walking inside, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.

Taking a deep breath, Seungkwan turned to face her. “Y/n, I… I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

She raised an eyebrow. “For what exactly?”

His stomach twisted. He knew she wasn’t making it easy for him—and honestly, he deserved it.

“For dragging Seungcheol to your concert,” he admitted, guilt evident in his voice. “I thought I was helping. I thought if he saw you, if he heard you sing, he’d finally get some closure. I never meant for things to spiral like this.”

Y/n let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Closure?” She scoffed. “Seungkwan, I was finally starting to move on, and now look at this mess. Do you know how many headlines I’ve had to ignore? How many people have been asking me about my relationship, about Seungcheol, about us?”

Seungkwan lowered his head, shame washing over him. “I know. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for putting you through this again. I never wanted to make things harder for you.”

She studied him for a moment before sighing. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she said, voice softer now. “But you should have stayed out of it, Seungkwan. It wasn’t your place to interfere.”

Seungkwan swallowed hard. “I get that now. And if I could take it all back, I would.” His voice cracked slightly. “I just—seeing you like that on stage, I knew you were still hurting. And I saw how much hyung was struggling too. I thought… maybe, deep down, you both just needed a push.”

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, Seungkwan saw the raw emotion in her eyes. “You don’t think I know that?” she whispered. “You don’t think I’ve spent every single day wondering if I made the right choice?”

His breath hitched.

“I still love him, Seungkwan,” she admitted, the words hanging heavy in the air. “But that doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were.”

Seungkwan felt his chest tighten. He had hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, things would fall back into place. But Y/n’s expression told him everything he needed to know.

“I get it,” he murmured. “And I swear, I won’t interfere anymore.” He looked at her with sincerity. “I just want you to be happy, Y/n. Whether that’s with Seungcheol or not.”

For the first time that night, Y/n’s expression softened.

“I know,” she said. “And I appreciate that.”

The tension between them eased, just slightly. And as Seungkwan left that night, he hoped—more than anything—that one day, Y/n and Seungcheol would find the happiness they both deserved.

The buzz surrounding Y/n and Seungcheol hadn’t died down, and after weeks of speculation, Y/n finally agreed to an exclusive interview. It wasn’t to explain herself, nor was it to address the scandal directly—she simply wanted to remind the world who she was beyond the drama.

Sitting across from the interviewer in a beautifully lit studio, Y/n looked poised and elegant, her aura calm despite the chaos that had surrounded her lately.

Halfway through the interview, the inevitable question came.

“Y/n, with everything that has happened recently, I think what everyone wants to know is… are you happy?”

The studio fell into silence, and for a moment, Y/n only blinked, as if carefully choosing her words. The interviewer watched her expectantly, and fans watching from behind their screens held their breath.

Then, Y/n smiled—not forced, not hesitant, but genuine.

“I am happy,” she answered simply, nodding. “I have people around me who love and support me. I’m doing what I love. I’m growing, learning, and becoming a better version of myself every day.”

She paused, her fingers gently running along the armrest of her chair. “I think happiness isn’t just about one person, or one moment. It’s about finding peace within yourself, no matter what’s happening around you.”

Her words sent waves across social media. Some fans cheered her on, proud of her strength, while others couldn’t help but read between the lines.

No matter how people interpreted it, one thing was clear—Y/n wasn’t letting the past define her anymore.

💬 “She didn’t say she moved on. She said she’s happy… but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him anymore.”

💬 “If she’s happy, then that’s all that matters. She deserves it.”

💬 “So this is really the end for her and Seungcheol?”

💬 “What if she’s saying this to convince herself? She looked kind of sad for a second.”

And whether Seungcheol was part of her future or not… that was a story only time would tell.

Just when the internet was beginning to settle down after Y/n’s interview, a single post sent fans into a frenzy once again.

Late at night, Y/n’s boyfriend uploaded a picture to his Instagram story—an intimate yet casual shot of him and Y/n. She was leaning against him, laughing softly, while he had his arm draped over her shoulders.

But what truly set the internet ablaze was the caption.

"Thanks for letting her go."

Within minutes, screenshots flooded Twitter, Instagram, and online forums. Fans and netizens had mixed reactions—some supporting the new relationship, others furious over what they saw as an unnecessary dig at Seungcheol.

It didn’t take long before Seungcheol’s name began trending again, fans anxiously waiting to see if he would respond.

💬 “OHHHHH HE’S PETTY FOR THAT 😭”

💬 “No way he actually posted this 💀💀💀”

💬 “Seungcheol, don’t look at your phone bro.”

💬 “He really said ‘I won.’ But did he, though?”

💬 “This feels kinda insecure… if you’re happy, why throw shade?”

💬 “Y/n deserves to be happy, but this caption was not it.”

However, Seungcheol remained completely silent. No statements. No cryptic posts. No subtle likes or unlikes.

Following the viral Instagram story from Y/n’s new boyfriend, media outlets wasted no time in picking up the drama. Within hours, headlines flooded every major entertainment site, further fueling the ongoing controversy.

📢 K-Buzz News: "Y/n’s New Boyfriend Takes a Dig at Seungcheol—‘Thanks for Letting Her Go’ Sparks Debate!"

📢 AllK-Entertainment: "Is It a Low Blow? Y/n’s Boyfriend Posts Shady Caption Amidst Seungcheol’s Confession!"

📢 Dispatch Exclusive: "Aimed at Seungcheol? Y/n’s Boyfriend Under Fire for His Controversial Instagram Post!"

The articles analyzed every angle of the situation—some supporting Y/n’s boyfriend, claiming he had every right to express his love publicly, while others criticized him for being unnecessarily petty.

One report even included insights from an anonymous industry insider:

"It’s no secret that Seungcheol and Y/n had a deep history. For a new boyfriend to make such a statement so publicly… it seems more like a declaration of victory than genuine love. Fans are divided, and understandably so."

Online discussions became more heated, with netizens and fans picking sides.

After days of silence, Seungcheol finally broke his silence—and he did it in the most Seungcheol way possible.

💬 “I mean… he’s not wrong, Seungcheol DID let her go.”

💬 “There was no need for this. If he was confident in their relationship, he wouldn’t have posted that.”

💬 “Is Y/n okay with this? She’s been trying to move on peacefully.”

💬 “This is getting so messy. I just want all of them to be happy.”

During SEVENTEEN’s sold-out concert, emotions were already running high, but no one expected the leader to address the controversy head-on.

Right before launching into a rap solo, Seungcheol took a deep breath, smirked slightly, and let the mic drop to his side for a second. The crowd fell silent, sensing something was about to go down.

Then, he looked out at the audience and said, “Someone decided to run their mouth… but I can’t just let that go, right?”

The stadium erupted in screams.

Without missing a beat, the beat dropped, and Seungcheol spit bars sharper than knives, delivering what fans immediately recognized as a freestyle diss aimed directly at Y/n’s boyfriend.

“You think you won, but why you still talkin’?

Got my leftovers, but you’re still stalkin’.

Holdin’ her hand, but you checkin’ my page—

You insecure, man, just stay in your lane.

The crowd went wild, some covering their mouths in shock while others jumped, hyped at the unexpected callout. Seungcheol didn’t stop there. He ended the rap with one last line that sent chills through the venue:

Talkin’ like you won but you don’t know the game,

She’s not a trophy, she don’t need a new name.

You flex online but we know it’s pretend,

If you gotta talk about me, are you really her man?”

“Real love don’t need a caption, it just stays.”

🔥 FANS. LOST. THEIR. MINDS. 🔥

💬 “DID CHEOL JUST DISS HIM LIVE???”

💬 “HE REALLY SAID I CANT LET THAT GO LMAOOO”

💬 “That was directed straight at him and everyone knows it 💀”

💬 “The way Seungcheol handled this was straight SAVAGE but CLASSY.”

As expected, clips of the performance exploded online within minutes. Hashtags like #SeungcheolDissTrack #StayInYourLaneand #ICantLetThatGo trended worldwide.

💬 “DID HE JUST CALL HIM INSECURE???”

💬 “Seungcheol said ‘you got her but you’re STILL mad’ LMAOOO”

💬 “This man had enough and snapped 💀💀”

💬 “Y/n’s boyfriend better not check Twitter today.”

💬 “The fact that he did this in a FULL concert with THOUSANDS of people watching… legendary.”

Even fellow SEVENTEEN members couldn’t hide their reactions—Mingyu was seen howling with laughter, Hoshi dramatically clutched his chest, and Jeonghan smirked knowingly.

Meanwhile, Y/n’s boyfriend remained silent on social media. No response. No clapback.

Because at that moment, Seungcheol had already won the battle without even trying.

The K-pop world is ablaze once again as Seungcheol's recent concert performance has sparked a fresh wave of controversy.

Leading outlets like Dispatch, AllKPop, and K-Buzz wasted no time covering the unexpected diss.

📢 Dispatch Headline: "Seungcheol's Savage Rap Sparks Speculation – Is Y/n's Boyfriend the Target?"

📢 K-Buzz: "‘Stay in Your Lane’ – Seungcheol Sends a Clear Message During SEVENTEEN’s Concert!"

📢 AllKPop: "Seungcheol Breaks Silence in the Most K-Pop Way Possible – Fans Call It the Ultimate Clapback!"

The viral moment had fans dissecting every line of the rap, with many convinced that the lyrics were aimed directly at Y/n’s boyfriend following his controversial Instagram post.

The reaction online was immediate:

One industry insider told Dispatch:

"Seungcheol is known for writing deeply personal lyrics, but this performance felt different. It was raw and deliberate—he knew exactly what he was doing."

Neither Seungcheol nor his agency released an official statement, but fans noticed that SEVENTEEN’s official social media accounts carefully avoided posting clips from that performance—further fueling the speculation.

💬 "He didn’t even name-drop, but we all know who he’s talking about."

💬 "Seungcheol said ‘stay in your lane’ and mic dropped. ICONIC."

💬 "If I were Y/n’s boyfriend, I would deactivate every social media app right now."

💬 "Seungcheol is fighting demons with a whole concert tour."

Meanwhile, Y/n’s boyfriend remained silent on the matter, with some fans calling his Instagram caption “the worst mistake of his life.”

As the drama unfolds, all eyes are now on Y/n, waiting to see if she will respond—or if she’ll continue to rise above the storm swirling around her.

After the chaos from Seungcheol’s viral rap performance, Y/n couldn’t stay silent any longer.

Furious over the public spectacle he made, she reached out to him directly—and it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

The tension was thick the moment he answered.

“What the hell was that, Seungcheol?” Y/n snapped, skipping past pleasantries. “Did you really have to turn this into a public mess?”

Seungcheol sighed, already anticipating this reaction. “I didn’t mention anyone’s name.”

“Don’t play dumb!” Her voice was sharp with frustration. “You knew exactly what you were doing! You turned this into a damn spectacle, and now everyone is talking about it.”

Seungcheol, still heated from everything that had happened, scoffed. “Oh, but your boyfriend’s post wasn’t a spectacle? He went out of his way to take a shot at me, and I was just supposed to stay quiet?”

Y/n exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. “You don’t have to stoop to his level! Do you even realize what you’ve done? Fans are eating this up, and now it looks like some childish feud. And me? I’m stuck in the middle of it.”

Seungcheol was silent for a moment before he muttered, “He started it.”

Y/n let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, grow up, Seungcheol. This isn’t about winning or losing. This is my life you keep dragging into the spotlight.”

Her voice softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. “I just wanted to move on. Why couldn’t you let me?”

Seungcheol clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of her words. “Is that really what you wanted?” His voice was quieter now, raw with emotion.

Y/n hesitated for just a second. But she forced herself to stay firm. “Yes. And if you actually cared about me, you would have respected that.”

The call ended before Seungcheol could respond.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had truly lost her.

After their heated call, Seungcheol couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him. He knew he had hurt Y/n, and no words could undo the mess he had made.

So, instead of words, he chose actions.

Every single day, he sent her favorite flowers, carefully arranged and delivered without a note. He didn’t expect a response—he just wanted her to know that despite everything, he still cared.

At first, Y/n thought it was from a fan or maybe her company, but as the days passed, the steady arrival of fresh bouquets started to make her wonder.

Then, one evening, she finally acknowledged them—posting a picture of the flowers on her Instagram story.

🌸 "One of my fav things." 🌸

Fans immediately flooded the comments with love, but one particular comment caught her attention.

💬 "Minseong is so sweet for doing this!"

Y/n didn’t respond, assuming her boyfriend, Minseong, was the sender. But before she could even process it, a verified comment appeared below.

💬 Seungcheol: "They’re from me."

The internet exploded.

💥 Fans Lost Their Minds 💥

Y/n stared at the comment, her heart dropping into her stomach. She had unknowingly posted a gift from Seungcheol, and now the entire world knew.

💬 "OH MY GOD. SEUNGCHEOL, WHAT?!"

💬 "The audacity… but also… the romance??"

💬 "Minseong is getting secondhand embarrassment right now LMAO."

💬 "This man does NOT give up."

💬 "Y/n, girl, we need a response ASAP."

The moment Minseong saw the comment from Seungcheol, he was furious. His name was trending alongside Seungcheol’s, and fans were speculating about their relationship.

That night, he stormed into Y/n’s apartment, his jaw clenched, his voice laced with anger.

“Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?” he snapped, tossing his phone onto the table. “The whole internet thinks I’m some fool who’s been competing with your ex this entire time!”

Y/n, still overwhelmed by everything, took a deep breath. “Minseong, I didn’t know the flowers were from him. I thought—”

“You thought what?!” he cut her off, his voice rising. “That I’d waste my time doing some grand romantic gesture when I know you’re still stuck on him?”

Her eyes widened at his tone. “That’s not fair.”

Minseong let out a bitter laugh. “Fair? You’re the one making me look like an idiot while secretly holding onto the past.” He stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “You liked it, didn’t you? Knowing he’s still chasing after you?”

Y/n took a step back, her chest tightening. “I didn’t ask for this. I was moving on—with you.”

Minseong scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “No, Y/n. You weren’t. You were just pretending to.”

His words struck deep, but before she could respond, his hand slammed down onto the table, making her flinch. He didn’t hit her, but his anger was dangerously close to boiling over.

That was it. The final straw.

Y/n’s voice was firm, unwavering. “We’re done.”

Minseong froze. “What?”

She exhaled, steadying herself. “This isn’t love, Minseong. You don’t trust me. You don’t respect me. And I refuse to stay in something that makes me feel like this.”

His expression hardened, but he didn’t fight her decision. He knew he had lost. Without another word, he grabbed his things and left, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, Y/n finally let herself breathe.

It was over. For good.

Following the sudden news of Y/n and Minseong’s breakup, fans speculated about the reasons behind their split—especially after the viral Seungcheol flower incident.

To address the growing rumors, Y/n’s company released an official statement:

📢 [OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM Y/N’S AGENCY] 📢

*"Hello, this is [Agency Name].

We would like to address recent reports regarding Y/n’s personal life.

After much discussion, Y/n and Minseong have decided to part ways. They will continue to support each other as colleagues and friends. We ask that fans respect their privacy during this time and refrain from spreading speculation that could harm either party.

Regarding the recent online discussions, Y/n has no involvement in any public disputes, and we kindly ask for understanding as she focuses on her career and well-being.

Thank you for your continued support."*

— [Agency Name]

Fan Reactions

Late at night, Y/n’s phone buzzed with a message from a number she hadn’t seen pop up in a long time.

💬 "‘No involvement��?? Her ex-boyfriend literally humiliated her, and they’re acting like nothing happened??"

💬 "I just know Minseong is punching the air right now."

💬 "Seungcheol’s somewhere smirking."

💬 "Hope Y/n is okay. She deserves better."

💬 "They didn’t even deny the flowers were from Seungcheol. Interesting… 👀"

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol: Hey… How are you feeling? Seungcheol: I heard about everything. I just… I wanted to check on you.

Y/n stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She knew she should ignore him. After everything that had happened, after all the chaos, it would be easier to just move on.

But a part of her—the part that still remembered how safe he once made her feel—couldn’t.

Y/n: I’m fine.

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Seconds later, her phone started ringing. Seungcheol was calling.

She hesitated before answering. “What do you want, Seungcheol?”

His voice was gentle, laced with something softer than usual. “I wanted to hear your voice, baby.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled, but there was an undeniable sadness behind it. “I can’t help it. You’ll always be my baby.”

She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of her blanket. “You don’t get to say that anymore.”

Seungcheol sighed. “I know I messed up. I know I’ve made things worse instead of better. But I meant what I said… I’m not giving up on you.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart racing. “You can’t just decide that.”

“But I can decide to keep trying,” he countered, voice firm. “I let you go once. I’m not making that mistake again.”

Silence stretched between them. Y/n hated how her heart betrayed her in that moment, how it ached at the sound of his voice, how it longed to believe him.

“I don’t know if I can do this again, Seungcheol,” she whispered.

He exhaled, his voice softer this time. “Then let me show you that you can.”

The world was buzzing with excitement—both Seventeen and Y/n had been nominated for the Billboard Music Awards. Social media exploded with congratulations, and fans couldn’t stop talking about how fate kept bringing them back into the same spaces.

That night, Y/n was in her hotel room when her phone lit up. Seungcheol was calling.

She stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up. But a part of her already knew—she would always answer when it was him.

With a sigh, she swiped the call open. “What do you want now, Seungcheol?”

His deep chuckle came through the line. “Can’t I just call to congratulate my baby?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop when you stop running away from me,” he said smoothly.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m not running.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “Then tell me why every time I reach out, you push me away. Every time I try to come closer, you take another step back.”

She clenched her jaw, looking away as if he could see her through the phone. “Because it’s easier that way, Seungcheol. You and I… we always end up hurting each other.”

His voice softened. “Not always.”

“Enough times.”

A pause. Then, “And yet… here we are. Still picking up each other’s calls.”

Y/n closed her eyes. He wasn’t wrong. No matter how hard she tried to stay away, something kept pulling them back together.

“Just tell me one thing, baby.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “Is there still a part of you that wants me?”

Silence.

Y/n knew her answer. But she also knew that saying it out loud would mean stepping back into a storm she wasn’t sure she could handle.

So instead, she whispered, “Goodnight, Seungcheol.”

And then she hung up—leaving him with the silence that said everything he needed to know.

The stadium roared with cheers as Seventeen was announced as the winner. The members hugged, overwhelmed with emotions as they took the stage to accept their first-ever Billboard Music Award.

Backstage, the energy was electric. Staff members, fellow artists, and friends were congratulating them left and right. Amid the chaos, Y/n found them.

Dressed in a sleek black outfit, she approached with a small smile. “Congratulations, Guys.”

The members turned to her, pleasantly surprised. Seungkwan was the first to pull her into a hug, followed by Joshua and Hoshi. They had always been close to her, and despite everything that had happened, there was no awkwardness—only warmth.

Then, her eyes met Seungcheol’s.

He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “You are here.”

Y/n smirked. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The members exchanged knowing looks before slowly dispersing, giving them space.

Now alone in a quieter corner of the backstage area, Seungcheol studied her carefully.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

She shrugged. “You worked hard for it. You deserved to win.”

Seungcheol took a step closer. “And do I deserve another chance?”

Y/n inhaled sharply. “Seungcheol—”

“Listen to me, baby,” he cut in gently. “I know I’ve messed up before. I know I let you go when I shouldn’t have. But I swear to you, I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Her heart pounded, but she kept her face neutral. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I also know you still feel something for me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he was right, and they both knew it.

Seungcheol sighed and reached for her hand, his touch hesitant but warm. “One date. That’s all I’m asking. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, like old times.”

Y/n bit her lip, her walls threatening to crumble.

One date.

That was all.

What was the worst that could happen?

“…Fine,” she whispered.

Seungcheol’s face broke into a boyish grin, his dimples showing. “Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just one date.”

He chuckled, squeezing her hand. “One date is all I need.”

Breaking News: Seungcheol & Y/n Spotted on a Date!

The entertainment industry was buzzing with new headlines the morning after Seungcheol and Y/n’s long-awaited reunion.

Photos had surfaced of the two enjoying a quiet evening at a luxurious yet cozy restaurant. Fans noted how they laughed easily, leaned close to talk, and looked at each other like no time had passed.

🔹 "Seventeen’s Seungcheol & Y/n Reignite Romance? Spotted on an Intimate Date!"

🔹 "Old Flames Reunite: Seungcheol and Y/n Seen Boarding the Same Flight Together!"

🔹 "Eagle-Eyed Fans Notice Y/n Wearing Her Old Engagement Ring—Is Love Back in the Air?"

“Look at the way Seungcheol is staring at her… He’s so in love.” – A fan commented on Twitter.

“It’s crazy how they just fit together. Like they were never apart.”

If the dinner date wasn’t enough, a bigger surprise came the next morning when both Seungcheol and Y/n were spotted at the airport—boarding the same flight.

Fans went into a frenzy.

A Few Months Later…

“Where are they going together??”

“This feels like a drama plot… a romantic getaway???”

It started with a simple Instagram post.

Y/n wasn’t one to flaunt her personal life, but tonight, something felt different. She uploaded a picture of her hand resting against a bouquet of white roses—and on her ring finger, a brand-new engagement ring sparkled under the dim light.

💍 CAPTION: “Some things are worth finding your way back to.”

The internet exploded.

🔥 BREAKING NEWS: Y/n Is Engaged!

"Months after rekindling her romance with Seungcheol, fans noticed Y/n sporting a dazzling engagement ring. While no official statement has been released, the caption and the ring say it all!"

As the world celebrated, somewhere in the quiet of their own little world, Seungcheol pulled Y/n into his arms and whispered against her forehead:

📝 Fans React:

💬 “THEY’RE REALLY ENDGAME OMG 😭😭”

💬 “Seungcheol, you romantic fool, YOU DID IT!!”

💬 “The way this love story has come full circle… I’M SOBBING.”

“Told you I’d never stop trying, baby."

Seungcheol Confirms Marriage to Y/n—Fans Go Wild!

Seventeen’s leader, Choi Seungcheol, has just dropped the biggest bombshell during an album promotion event—he and Y/n are officially married!

"We Got Married Recently" – Seungcheol’s Unexpected Announcement

During an interview for Seventeen’s latest album, the members were discussing the inspiration behind their new songs. When asked about the meaning behind a particularly heartfelt track, Seungcheol smiled knowingly.

“This one’s special. It’s about someone I love. Actually… I guess it’s the perfect time to say it—Y/n and I recently got married.”

The room went silent for a second before exploding into chaos.

The members clapped and cheered. The interviewers were speechless, fumbling for words before finally stuttering, “Wait—married?! Like, officially?”

Seungcheol grinned. “Yeah. Officially.”

As if that wasn’t enough, minutes after the interview aired, Seungcheol posted a never-before-seen picture of Y/n on his Instagram.

The photo was simple yet stunning—Y/n sitting in their living room, wearing one of Seungcheol’s oversized hoodies, holding a cup of tea with a soft smile.

The caption?

“Wifey. ❤️”

The Internet Breaks: Fans & Celebrities React

Within minutes, social media exploded.

Even celebrities joined in.

🔹 "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WIFEY????? SEUNGCHEOL PLEASE EXPLAIN.”

🔹 “Not only are they back together, THEY’RE ACTUALLY MARRIED. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS.”

🔹 "This man just dropped a marriage announcement like it was a casual Tuesday.”

Jeonghan commented: “Wow, we lost him for real. Congrats, bro.”

Seungkwan: “I DESERVE CREDIT FOR THIS!!!”

Hoshi: “Does this mean I can still be part of your love story? 😭”

Following Seungcheol’s viral "Wifey ❤️" post, fans eagerly waited for Y/n’s response—and she did not disappoint.

She uploaded a candid photo of Seungcheol in their home, wearing a cozy sweater, running a hand through his hair as he smiled at something off-camera.

The caption?

“Hubby ❤️”

As expected, the internet went absolutely wild.

Mingyu: “Wow, you two are really doing this, huh?”

🔹 “WIFEY AND HUBBY POSTS ON THE SAME DAY???? THEY ARE SO IN LOVE I’M CRYING.”

🔹 “Y/n is now officially the luckiest person alive. Like. LOOK AT HIM.”

🔹 “THEY REALLY GOT MARRIED AND NOW THEY’RE CASUALLY POSTING ABOUT IT LIKE THIS ISN’T THE BIGGEST NEWS EVER.”

Jeonghan: “I give it 3 months before Seungcheol starts posting ‘My wife is the most beautiful person in the world’ every single day.”

Woozi: “Congrats, now please stop writing sad songs about her.”

Felix (Stray Kids): “This is actually the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life.”

After days of trending worldwide, Seungcheol and Y/n finally sat down for their first official interview as husband and wife. Fans had been eagerly waiting to hear their love story straight from them, and the couple did not hold back!

1️⃣ Why Did Y/n Give Seungcheol a Second Chance?

💬 Y/n: “A lot of people asked me this, and honestly, I asked myself the same thing at first. But… Seungcheol never stopped trying. Even when I was stubborn, even when I told him to move on, he just kept proving to me—through his actions, not just words—that his love for me never changed.”

💬 Seungcheol: [laughs shyly] “It was never even a question for me. I just knew she was the one, and I was willing to wait however long it took.”

2️⃣ How Did Seungcheol Propose?

💬 Seungcheol: “I was nervous. Like, really nervous. I had planned everything perfectly, but when the moment came, my hands were shaking.”

💬 Y/n: [laughs] “I noticed! He dropped the ring box at one point.”

💬 Seungcheol: “I wanted it to be special, but at the same time, I didn’t want some big public thing. So, I took her to the place where we had our very first date. Just the two of us. I told her everything I felt—why I loved her, why I’d never stop choosing her. And then I got down on one knee and asked.”

💬 Y/n: “And I said yes. Obviously.”

3️⃣ How Did the Seventeen Members Help?

💬 Seungcheol: [groans] “Oh my God. They were worse than me.”

💬 Y/n: “It was adorable, actually.”

💬 Seungcheol: “So, before I proposed, the guys decided they had to be involved. I thought they’d just help with the setup or something, but no… they insisted on singing ‘Marry Me’ by Jason Derulo while I was proposing.”

💬 Y/n: “I walked into the venue and suddenly all of Seventeen was standing there, singing with way too much passion.”

💬 Seungcheol: “Jeonghan was even pretending to wipe tears like he was my mother.”

💬 Y/n: [laughing] “It was so chaotic but also the sweetest thing ever.”

4️⃣ Why Did You Keep the Marriage a Secret for So Long?

💬 Y/n: “We really wanted to enjoy this moment for ourselves first. In this industry, so much of our lives is public, and we just wanted a little while where it was just us.”

5️⃣ How Did Seungcheol Win Y/n Over Again?

💬 Y/n: [teasingly] “He was persistent. Annoyingly so.”

💬 Seungcheol: “I sent her flowers every day, wrote her letters, checked in on her, reminded her of all the little things I remembered about her. I just wanted her to know that no matter how much time passed, my love for her never changed.”

💬 Y/n: “At first, I was so set on keeping my distance, but then one day… I realized I didn’t want to run anymore.”

💬 Seungcheol: “So, you admit I won?”

💬 Y/n: [laughs] “You never had to ‘win.’ You were already the one.”

6️⃣ Final Thoughts?

💬 Seungcheol: “I know our story has been crazy—lots of ups and downs. But I think that’s what makes it special. We grew, we changed, and we still found our way back to each other. And now… I get to call her my wife.”

💬 Y/n: “And I get to call him my husband.”

💬 Seungcheol: [grinning at her] “Best title I’ve ever had.”

As expected, social media exploded with love and admiration for the couple.

🔹 “This is literally a K-drama but real life.”

🔹 “Seventeen SINGING while he proposed? I need a documentary on this whole love story.”

🔹 “They were always meant to be. I’m so happy for them.”

With their love stronger than ever, Seungcheol and Y/n’s journey continues—but this time, as husband and wife.

[moondustbaby]

can you do V with nerd rafe

V – Voice

nerd!Rafe x sorority gf!Reader

✨1k celebration post✨

mdni 18+

You’re back in his dorm—tiny twin bed, textbooks on the floor, science posters above the headboard—and Rafe is trying so hard not to fall apart.

You’re riding him slow, rolling your hips in lazy, perfect circles, and he’s panting beneath you—hands gripping your thighs, glasses slipping down his nose, chest flushed red.

“Y-You gotta slow down,” he stammers, voice cracking. “I-I’m gonna—”

“You already said that,” you tease, leaning over him.

He gasps when you clench around him. The sound that slips out of him—half whimper, half moan—makes your stomach tighten.

“Ray,” you murmur, brushing the hair from his forehead, “why are you trying so hard to be quiet?”

His face is red. “People are next door…”

“Let them hear.”

You squeeze again and he groans, loud, biting his lip immediately after.

“Fuck, baby—please,” he begs. “I-I can’t help it. You feel too good.”

You smile. “Then be loud. Let me hear how much you like it.”

And the second you say that, it’s like something breaks in him.

“Oh my god,” he moans, voice high and ragged, hips jerking up into yours. “I-I love it—love you—please don’t stop—”

You grind down deeper. He sobs.

“You’re perfect,” he pants. “So warm—so good—fuck, fuck—gonna cum—”

You keep moving, keep whispering praise, and he moans right through his orgasm—loud, gasping, falling apart under you like he’s never had anyone fuck him like this in his life.

When it’s over, he buries his face in your chest, still breathing hard.

“…That was loud,” he mumbles.

You grin. “Yeah, it was.”

And you hope his whole floor heard it.

a/n: i’ve never written for nerd!rafe before but OMG??? this was so fun—he’s moaning, whining, begging like he’s never been touched before and i might actually need to add him to the roster 👀 thank you for the request angel 🫶🏻

took some inspiration from @cherrygirlfriend ‘s nerd!rafe, go check out her stuff if you haven’t already, her writing is amazing!!

♥️ lani

nsfw a-z

✨1k celebration schedule✨

[triplefrontierbabe]

Hiii, I would love some lando!smau with imagine inspired by 2hands by tate mcrae, oc could be the singer?

2 hands Lando Norris smau

imagine linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: slightly suggestive content

disclaimer: all photos are from Instagram and/or Pinterest I take no credit for them

a/n: I’ve seen so many people do their takes on 2 hands so hopefully you babes enjoy!!!

yourusername

liked by lando, oliviarodrigo and 1, 793, 903 others

yourusername tour has sped by so fast 💫💓

view 1, 702 comments

yourdancer1 I don’t want it to endddd😩

↳ yourusername will the divas survive the end of tour😨

charli_xcx baby’s first world tour

addisonraee mommy

yourfan01 gonna need this tour imprinted in my brain asap

fanofyours0404 what are we supposed to do when this ends

internettroll65 who tf is buying tickets to listen to this mediocre music. she doesn’t even sing

↳ yndefender11 are you ill? she sings hella good and dances better than half of singers these days do

lando

liked by mclaren, yourdancer2 and 2, 893, 193 others

lando summer break around the world 🌍

view 1, 903 comments

mclaren out here doing side quests

maxfewtrell hmm what you taking a pic of there?

↳ lando the world may never know

danielricciardo lan wear a shirt correctly challenge, level impossible

↳ carlossainz55 🤣🤣🤣🤣

↳ lando damn 🥲

papayababyyy fuck he knows he’s hot

yourusername

liked by 01ynfan, ynhq and 1, 737 others

yourusername let em all know or whatever

view 992 comments

oliviarodrigo 🤤🤤🤤

larsenthompson so obsessed w you

ynhq let her cook🗣️

ryantedder or whatever 🤣

mclaren cute car

↳ papayagirlie04 help what does this mean

↳ princessofthepaddock what do they know that we don’t

ynfan09 mother back in the studioooo

ynluvr22 whose hands are those

↳ motorsportfan44 I’m starting to think Lando’s esp now that mclaren commented

lando

liked by yourusername, cota_official and 2, 703, 903 others

lando just having a look around

view 821 comments

texaslonghorns reppin bevo 🤘

mclaren switchin things up for the weekend!!

maxfewtrell man finally put a shirt on

lnfour btw the varsity jacket is on sale, this weekend only!👀

ln4babe he looks like such a frat boy but I fear it’s working 😩

l4ndofan4 is this not basically the same car in yn’s post??

↳ formulagirlie omg wait I think you’re right

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter, lnfour and 1, 789, 993 others

yourusername buckle up, new music out next month ✨

view 2,883 comments

lando nice car

↳ yourusername thanks

↳ landoloverrr bro was early asf

ynhq I don’t think you guys are ready for this!!!

mclaren hmm fourth pic looks oddly familiar 🤔

ynfan001 my worlds are colliding eeeek

francisca.cgomes suddenly I’m free that day

↳ yourusername as you should be 🤭

yourdancer2 I’m satttt

sabrinacarpenter finalllllyyyyy

formulawagtea i swear if she’s dating Lando I’ll be so pissed

↳ pitstopbaby actually go touch some grass

lando

liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 2, 780, 223 others

lando buckled up and ready to go

view 1, 999 comments

oscarpiastri 🤜🤛

mclaren our guys🧡

quadrant wishing for a win this wknd

martingarrix quick ab flex there

↳ lando thought i was slick

lnfour helmet design 🔛🔝

landobabeee okay are we all thinking it’s yn in that pic?

↳ waggossipf1 she’s been pretty quiet on social media lately… 👀

mclrnfan81 lando in his soft launch era

norrisfan01 can he fight????

↳ ynlover56 I was thinking the same 😭

yourusername

liked by ynhq, lilymhe and 2, 993, 783 others

yourusername 2 hands out now!!!!🧡💛 thx @/lando for the inspiration

view 2, 774 comments

ynhq available on all platforms!!!!!!!

lando happy to be of service

↳ yourusername 😽😽😽

heidiberger_ absolutely in awe of your talent

mclaren catch us listening to this on repeat

addisonraee actually ate and left no crumbs

ynfan11 asdfghjkl is this their hard launch?!!????

papayafan04810 the caption?????? omg?????

pietra.pilao hottest song ever 🔥

↳ yourusername yk it ;)

yourusername on Twitter

lando

liked by maxverstappen1, quadrant and 3, 783,221

lando hey siri play 2 hands 🎧

view 3, 803 comments

yourusername meant every word of the song btw

↳ landodiva04 oh I know she gets it every night

↳ papayaluvr idk who’s luckier, her or him

mclaren our champ❤️‍🔥

justaninchident16 so obsessed w this couple

oscarpiastri he’s had this song on repeat all day, no joke

lnfourfan if I were her I too would write a song just about his hands 🤤

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

600 followers celebration!!

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