#stubborn and caring and having a hard time finding people to trust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

igwb · 3 months ago

Text

Fate, Fortune and Jungkook's Misfortune.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: strangers to lovers au, fluff + slice of life + comedy

summary: hopelessly romantic, jungkook believed in all kinds of things—but mostly in fate. so when he stumbled upon what he thought was a sign from the universe, he took it seriously. maybe too seriously. but one way or another, he was determined to make her believe in fate too.

word count: 20K (one shot)

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of; astrology talk, fluff, fluff & fluff, and jungkook being jungkook (cute) ♡

playlist: sally when the wine runs out, goodnight n go, fallingforyou & you are the traffic

Jeon Jungkook had heard plenty of things about himself over the years, but three remarks seemed to follow him everywhere.

The first was that he was dramatic—sometimes a little too much. Jungkook wasn’t the kind of person who simply told a story; he performed it.

His hands would move wildly, his voice rising and falling with exaggerated emotion, as if every minor event in his life were a grand cinematic moment. It didn’t matter if he was recounting a near-death experience (which, in reality, was just him almost tripping on a sidewalk) or the time he spotted an unusually fluffy cat on the street—his excitement was all-consuming. His big, expressive doe eyes would widen as he spoke, drawing people in, making them listen, even if they had no idea why finding a cute cat had him this worked up.

And the worst part? His enthusiasm was contagious. No matter how absurd the topic, his friends always found themselves leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer energy of his storytelling.

The second thing was that Jungkook was persistent—relentless, even. When he set his mind on something, there was no stopping him. Once an idea lodged itself in his brain, he would pursue it with single-minded determination, as if failure wasn’t an option. And by determination, that meant everything was fair game.

Like the time his high school held a massive sports tournament. Most people saw it as a casual event, something to participate in for fun. Not Jungkook. He trained for months, pushing himself like he was preparing for the Olympics. In the end, he placed first—not necessarily because he was the most skilled, but because everyone else simply didn’t care enough to try that hard. But to Jungkook, a win was a win, and he would take it, no matter what.

And then, there was the last thing—perhaps the one that defined him the most. Jungkook was a hopeless romantic. Not just the kind who believed in love, but the kind who believed in fate. In soulmates. In every ridiculous, unrealistic notion that most people would roll their eyes at. Horoscopes? He checked them more often than the weather. MBTI? Not only did he know his own personality type by heart, but he had memorized everyone else’s, convinced that compatibility was written in the stars.

He believed in love at first sight, in grand gestures, in the idea that somewhere, out there, was the one meant just for him.

And if he ever found her?

Well, knowing Jungkook, he would do everything in his power to make her believe in fate too.

Jungkook had always enjoyed taking Yeontan for walks. The little Pomeranian technically belonged to Taehyung—his best friend—but Jungkook might as well have been his honorary second owner. Taehyung was overprotective when it came to his beloved dog, rarely trusting anyone else to handle him. But Jungkook? He was the exception.

And today, Jungkook had never been happier to be out walking the tiny ball of fluff. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and Yeontan—small but ridiculously stubborn—was leading him rather than the other way around. Jungkook barely had a say in where they went, not that he minded. Yeontan had a mind of his own, and considering Taehyung had raised him like a pampered little prince, he was more than a little spoiled.

So when Yeontan suddenly yanked him toward a small, unfamiliar café, Jungkook let himself be dragged along, more amused than anything. He had never been here before, but the place looked exactly like something out of one of his guilty-pleasure romance novels—warm lighting, large windows fogged slightly from the temperature difference, plants hanging from the ceiling, and the faint scent of coffee and vanilla drifting through the air.

It was cozy. Inviting. The kind of café where love stories began.

And Jungkook, hopeless romantic that he was, couldn’t help but wonder—was fate trying to tell him something today?

Jungkook immediately pulled out his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing right in front of the café’s entrance, probably blocking customers from coming and going. But he didn’t care. There were priorities in life, and checking his horoscope at a potentially fated moment like this was one of them.

His browser was already open to his favorite astrology site—it always was—so all he had to do was scroll down to his sign. Virgo. He barely had time to process the words before—

Yank.

His eyes widened as the leash suddenly tugged forward, nearly making him stumble. Before he could react, Yeontan had already charged straight into the café.

“Yah—Tannie!” Jungkook yelled, frantically shoving his phone into his back pocket as he took off after the tiny troublemaker. He pushed through the doorway, eyes darting around in search of the little fluff ball. Yeontan was small but fast, and knowing him, he was already causing chaos somewhere between the tables.

Jungkook weaved past a few customers, muttering rushed apologies, his head swiveling as he searched. “I swear, if you embarrassed me in front of strangers again—”

And then he saw him.

Or rather, he saw her.

Because Yeontan wasn’t just causing trouble—he was happily sitting at the feet of a girl Jungkook had never seen before. A girl who, at that moment, was peering down at the fluffy little traitor with an amused look, one hand resting on her coffee cup, the other scratching behind his ears like she had all the time in the world.

Jungkook came to an abrupt stop. His brain short-circuited for a second, and suddenly, he remembered something very, very important.

His horoscope.

He scrambled to pull his phone out again, nearly dropping it in the process. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his heart rate picking up as he found what he was looking for.

Virgo: Today, fate will lead you to an unexpected encounter. Pay attention—this person might change everything.

Jungkook swallowed hard, gaze flickering back to the girl.

No way.

Jungkook walked toward the table with slow, measured steps, unsure of how to proceed. The girl was so engrossed in petting Yeontan that she didn’t even notice him approach. She had a laptop in front of her, a large coffee cup beside it, and a soft smile on her face as she looked down at the dog. Yeontan, for once, was happily soaking up the attention, his little tail wagging furiously.

And Jungkook?

He never wanted more to be a dog than in that exact moment. At least then, he’d have her full, undivided attention.

A few more seconds passed before she finally glanced up, eyes briefly meeting his, before they flicked back down to Yeontan. She didn’t even seem phased by the random guy suddenly appearing at her table. Instead, she offered a soft, almost amused smile, glancing at him only for a moment.

“He’s so cute,” she commented, her voice light and warm.

“He may look like an angel, but he’s far from it.” Jungkook crouched down to Yeontan’s level, gently tugging the leash back into his hands, hoping the dog would finally acknowledge him for once. Now that they were at the same height, he couldn’t help but hope that she would finally look at him too, not just at the dog.

Yeontan, as expected, didn’t seem to care about Jungkook’s presence, too busy enjoying the scratch behind his ears. Jungkook shot the dog a glare, as if silently scolding him. Seriously, dude?

When her eyes finally flicked back to him, the smile she gave wasn’t judgmental, just amused.

“I can tell,” she said, her tone teasing, “He definitely looks like he’s got a little mischief in him.”

“I don’t know if ‘mischief’ is enough to describe his personality. He’s chaotic,” Jungkook replied, a small laugh escaping as he ruffled the dog’s fur. “But yeah, he’s definitely not as innocent as he looks.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence as both of them watched Yeontan enjoy his little moment of fame. Jungkook was still crouched down, hands resting on the leash, his heart racing.

She pulled her hand back from Yeontan, her fingers lingering for just a second before retreating to her lap. Then, she glanced around the café, her eyes briefly scanning the space. It was such a small, insignificant movement, but Jungkook was completely entranced.

The soft glow of the café’s warm lighting reflected off her glasses, her round, chocolate-brown eyes peering through the lenses with quiet curiosity. Strands of hair had fallen loose from the bun on top of her head, perfectly framing her delicate features. Her lips—plump and pink—were slightly parted, like she was lost in thought.

Jungkook was so busy memorizing her face that he almost didn’t notice when she turned back to him.

Panic.

He shot up from his crouch so fast that he almost lost his balance, awkwardly straightening his posture as if that would somehow make up for the fact that he had very obviously been staring.

And then she smiled. Not a flirty smile, not even an encouraging one—just a small, polite curve of her lips that almost felt like she was expecting him to leave now. Like the moment had run its course, and she was giving him an easy out.

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

“Oh—uh, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, looking down at Yeontan as if the dog could somehow save him from his embarrassment. His cheeks burned, and he hated that he was so bad at this. He didn’t want the moment to end, but he also didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

But then his horoscope flashed in his mind again.

Virgo: Today, fate will lead you to an unexpected encounter. Pay attention—this person might change everything.

His fingers tightened around Yeontan’s leash.

No. If this was fate—and Jungkook knew it was—then he had to do something.

“Uh…” He forced himself to look up at her again, ignoring the heat in his face. “Are you familiar with this place?”

She raised an eyebrow, a small hmm leaving her lips as if urging him to go on.

Jungkook swallowed. “Which drink is the best?”

For a second, she just blinked at him, like she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. Then, slowly, a small, knowing smirk appeared on her lips.

“You’re just asking that to keep talking to me, aren’t you?”

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

Oh, she’s dangerous.

“I—” He cleared his throat, scrambling to regain his composure. “I mean… maybe?”

She chuckled, shaking her head slightly as she leaned back in her chair, tilting her head at him in amusement. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

Jungkook held his breath.

“The best drink here? Definitely the caramel macchiato,” she finally said, voice smooth, teasing. “Sweet, a little strong, and pretty addictive.”

Jungkook grinned, his confidence returning in an instant. “That does sound like my type.”

She raised a brow. “The drink?”

Jungkook met her gaze, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Maybe.”

For the first time since he’d walked in, she actually looked surprised. Just for a second—just a flicker of something in her expression before she composed herself again.

Yeontan was getting impatient. The tiny fluff ball kept tugging on his leash, huffing dramatically, clearly annoyed that he was no longer the center of attention. His little paws shuffled against the café floor, his determination unshaken.

Jungkook sighed. Okay, maybe walking the dog wasn’t fun anymore.

Each time Yeontan yanked harder, Jungkook’s arm jerked forward, nearly throwing him off balance. He knew it was time to leave—there was no point in fighting when Yeontan had already decided he wasn’t going to lose.

Jungkook let out a small laugh, looking back at the girl, reluctant to let the moment end.

“You heard the brat,” he said, nodding toward the demanding Pomeranian. “Guess that’s my cue.”

She smiled, watching the little dog’s antics with amusement.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” Jungkook added, dragging out his words just slightly, lingering for a response. A name. Anything to keep this from being just another fleeting interaction.

For a second, she hesitated, lips pressing together like she was debating something. But then—

She said it.

Her name.

And oh, Jungkook was not prepared.

It rolled off her tongue so effortlessly, so naturally, and yet it felt like it echoed in his mind, settling into a permanent place inside of him. It was pretty—too pretty. Almost unfair.

For a split second, he nearly lost his composure, his grip tightening on Yeontan’s leash as he processed the way it sounded.

He forced himself to keep his cool, offering a grin that (hopefully) didn’t expose just how much he was freaking out inside.

“Pretty name,” he said casually, though inside, his brain was already in overdrive.

Because tonight—without a doubt—he was going to a name compatibility site, typing her name next to his, and testing their fate.

The day had been horrible. No amount of Hoseok’s usual sunshine-like energy, nor the comforting sight of his signature heart-shaped smile, could do anything to lift your mood. It was just one of those days—the kind where everything felt ten times heavier than it should.

The lecture was dragging on endlessly, your professor droning about legal cases and justice articles in a tone so monotonous that it almost felt like a personal attack. You fought to keep your eyes open, blinking rapidly every few minutes in a desperate attempt to stay focused.

Sometimes, you genuinely questioned your decision to pursue law. Why had you willingly subjected yourself to this? You could have been anywhere else—on a beach, running away to the mountains, maybe even opening a tiny coffee shop where you wouldn’t have to read through endless legal texts every night.

And yet…

No matter how often the thought of quitting crossed your mind, it never truly stuck. Because deep down, as exhausting as it was, as frustrating as some days could be, you had always loved it. The way logic, facts, and concrete evidence could build a path toward justice. It felt structured—rational. There was a process, a way to piece everything together, then the truth would always reveal itself. It wasn’t always easy, but at least it made sense.

That was more than you could say for Hoseok’s field of study.

You never quite understood how he could immerse himself so deeply in literature and poetry—worlds filled with metaphors, abstract emotions, and meanings that changed depending on who was reading them. Everything in his world felt so… out of place, detached from reality. There were no clear answers, no right or wrong, just endless interpretations.

While he found meaning in verses and prose, you found it in arguments and evidence.

And you were perfectly fine with that.

The moment you stepped into the small coffee shop, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. This place had always been your little escape. Today, it was a bit more crowded than usual, but you didn’t mind. You could wait.

Shuffling into place in the line, you let your thoughts drift to your usual order. Iced coffee. Large. No second-guessing. Caffeine had practically become your lifeline at this point, the only thing keeping you awake during long nights buried under case studies and legal articles.

The line moved painfully slow. You tapped your fingers lightly against your arm, eyes flicking toward the counter. The customer in front of you took forever, hesitating over their order like they were making a life-altering decision.

By the time they finally stepped aside to wait for their drink, you swore an entire hour had passed.

Suppressing a groan, you took a step forward, ready to place your order—when a voice beside you made you pause.

“Oh, what a funny coincidence! Didn’t know you were familiar with this place. It must be destiny.”

And there he was.

The boy from the other day, standing next to you with wide boba-like eyes, filled with excitement like he’d just stumbled upon something life-changing. His dark hair was messy, parted in the middle, and strands of it fell over his forehead like he had run here without a care. His thin lips curled around the straw of his drink, cheeks puffing slightly as he sipped.

You scoffed, shaking your head just as the barista handed you your iced coffee. “I knew this place before you,” you reminded him, fingers wrapping around your cup. “I was the one giving you a recommendation.”

You turned on your heels, making your way to your usual booth. You’d been looking forward to sitting alone, letting the familiar hum of the café settle your mind as you worked through another exhausting day.

But apparently, he had other plans.

He followed right behind you, still sipping on his drink, the straw stuck between his lips as he trailed after you like a lost puppy.

“Oh yeah, right,” he chuckled, sliding into the seat across from you without asking.

You stopped mid-motion, blinking at him. He had just… invited himself?

You always sat alone. That was the whole point of coming here. It was your time to work in peace.

“I forgot,” Jungkook continued casually, settling into the booth like he belonged there. “It’s been such a long time since I last saw you.”

“One week,” you corrected, raising an eyebrow as you took a sip from your coffee.

Jungkook grinned, unbothered. “One week too long.”

He placed his drink on the table, leaning forward so his mouth hovered just above the straw, refusing to use his hands as he took another sip.

You glanced under the table, half-expecting to see a familiar ball of fluff staring back at you. Instead, all you found were a pair of worn-out dark Converse, one foot lazily crossed over the other.

Your lips pursed slightly in disappointment before you looked back up. “Where’s the cute dog?”

As you spoke, you pulled your laptop from your bag, subtly hoping the boy would get the message—you had work to do.

“Oh, he’s got a hairstyle appointment,” he said, shrugging like this was a completely normal thing.

You blinked. “A what?”

He chuckled at your reaction before elaborating. “His owner treats him like a total brat, so he has to go to the groomer every month. Haircuts, fancy shampoo, the whole celebrity dog experience.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Honestly, it made so much sense. From what you had seen, the dog had more attitude than most people you knew.

“So he’s not your dog?” you mused, arching an eyebrow.

“Hopefully not,” he scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I love bigger dogs. Ones that don’t act like princesses.”

“What’s his name?” you asked absentmindedly, turning on your laptop.

You were trying to focus—you really were. But it was proving impossible when the person sitting across from you was sipping his drink obnoxiously loud, making a whole production out of it.

Though, if you were being honest, the real distraction was the way his big, boba-like eyes peeked at you from over your screen, watching you with far too much amusement.

Jungkook smirked. “You know, I’m a bit offended that you asked for the dog’s name before mine.”

You glanced up, unimpressed, as he leaned back in his chair, seemingly forgetting about his drink entirely now that he had a new source of entertainment.

“My name is Jungkook, by the way,” he added, like he was offering the most valuable piece of information in the world.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrayed you, curling into the beginnings of a grin.

“I didn’t ask for yours, did I?” you shot back, shutting your laptop halfway and placing it beside you, clearly accepting the fact that you weren’t getting any work done anytime soon.

Jungkook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had personally wounded him. “Wow. That hurts.”

And just like that, you had a feeling you weren’t getting rid of Jungkook anytime soon.

And you were right.

Because every time you stepped into the coffee shop, he was already there.

Somehow, Jungkook always managed to arrive before you, sitting comfortably in your usual booth like he owned the place. And as if that wasn’t enough, he had the audacity to have your favorite drink already waiting on the table, like he had perfectly timed your arrival.

He’d wave at you the moment you walked in—enthusiastically, unashamed, completely oblivious to the way people turned to stare at you because of it. Your face would heat up every single time, a mix of embarrassment and exasperation, but Jungkook never seemed to care. If anything, he loved making a scene.

But, despite everything, you still made your way over to the table. Because, well—it was your table first. And Jungkook wasn’t about to scare you away from your favorite spot.

(Okay, and maybe because he was kind of nice. Just a little.)

Over time, you learned quite a few things about him. Mostly because Jungkook never shut up, and even if you hadn’t wanted to know, he would have told you anyway.

Like how he was obsessed—his words—with toe socks because he hated regular ones. Or how he was a hardcore astrology fan (again, his words).

That one, in particular, made you roll your eyes. And instead of working like you had planned, you found yourself in a full-blown debate with him about how horoscopes were absolute nonsense, a way for people to trick themselves into believing fate controlled their lives instead of taking responsibility for their own choices.

Jungkook had gasped, genuinely offended, and spent the next twenty minutes passionately explaining why he believed in them, rattling off birth charts and compatibility readings like he was reciting holy scripture.

And then, of course, there was this.

“What a coincidence,” Jungkook mused, voice dripping with fake innocence as he leaned back in his seat. His hands flew to his head in mock shock. “You coming here while your favorite drink is already on your favorite table? Fate really wants us together.”

You shot him a deadpan look, crossing your arms.

“I already told you,” you huffed, “fate is bullshit—a lazy excuse for naïve people who don’t want to take responsibility for their own choices.”

Jungkook grinned. “Exactly. And I’m choosing to sit here, waiting for you, every time. So really, it’s the same thing.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “That is not—”

But Jungkook was already sipping his drink again, looking far too smug for his own good.

And, annoyingly, you had no idea how to argue with that.

Jungkook cleared his throat, straightening in his chair with the kind of exaggerated seriousness that only he could pull off.

You sighed, already knowing what was coming as he pulled out his phone. Still, you sat down anyway, setting your laptop in front of you, pretending—really pretending—that you weren’t listening.

Jungkook, of course, wasn’t fazed.

He called your name, deepening his voice dramatically as he read aloud, “Today, your horoscope is telling you to take a deep breath, look at the grass, and let your heart talk while your mind relaxes.”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his mischievous gaze over the top of your laptop screen. “Does it really?”

Jungkook grinned, nodding, but you weren’t convinced.

“What if you’re just bullshitting already bullshit facts?” you mused. “That would be defamation, and you could—”

Before you could get into any legal technicalities, Jungkook clicked his tongue, cutting you off. He wasn’t about to let logic ruin his fun.

He slid his phone across the table toward you. “It’s real, and I’m pleading non-guilty.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously before glancing at his phone, scanning the text quickly. To your surprise—and mild annoyance—he was actually telling the truth.

But then, your eyes landed on a line he had conveniently skipped.

“Oh, look,” you drawled, smirking as you pointed at the screen. “It also says I should be careful with who I’m interacting with today.”

Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest like you had stabbed him. “Are you implying I’m the bad influence here?”

You took a slow sip of your coffee. “I mean, if the stars say so…”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head as he dramatically took back his phone. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, typing something quickly before flashing the screen back at you. “Well, guess what? My horoscope says, ‘Don’t give up on people who challenge you—they may be the greatest blessing in disguise.’”

Your lips parted slightly at that, but before you could respond, Jungkook leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he smirked.

“So really,” he teased, “we’re the perfect balance.”

You rolled your eyes—but you didn’t argue.

Jungkook was absolutely ecstatic.

If he could, and if people wouldn’t look at him like he was a total weirdo, he would have definitely started dancing right there on the streets. With papers and colorful pens in hand, his movements would have been free and wild, just like his energy.

But instead, he grinned like an excited puppy as he made his way toward the coffee shop. And there you were, sitting in your usual booth, brows furrowed in intense concentration, typing away like a madman in the middle of a frenzy.

He couldn’t help but smile wider, his heart swelling with an odd kind of pride and joy.

He set his papers and pens on the table with a loud sigh, purposely making the sound dramatic as if to announce his grand entrance.

“It’s time for a break,” he declared, flopping down next to you with the flair of someone who was about to deliver the most important news of the century. “With the one and only Jeon Jungkook.”

You barely spared him a glance at first, but then you sighed, closing your laptop halfway with a sharp exhale. Your eyes were drawn to the chaos now sprawled on your table: a mess of papers, pens, and bright markers.

“Are you planning a drawing contest?” you asked, clearly unimpressed by the mess, already feeling the overwhelming urge to organize everything into neat piles. You hated working in a disorganized space. “Something the stars told you last night—something about you sucking at coloring?”

Jungkook scoffed loudly, leaning back in his chair like he was some kind of rebellious artist. He slid a sheet of paper toward you, the kind you’d get during an exam—multiple pages stuck together with nothing but your name scrawled on the front.

“It’s something I made,” he said, his voice oddly soft now, despite his playful tone. He quickly placed his hands over yours to stop you from reading it immediately. “For you.”

You blinked at him, confused. “You want me to take a break while doing something that looks like work?”

Jungkook shifted slightly, adjusting himself so that he was facing you more directly, his eyes wide with enthusiasm as he began explaining.

“It’s called an MBTI test,” he said, his voice bright with excitement, as if he were unveiling the secret to the universe itself. “It’s to see what your personality type is.”

You glanced at him skeptically, still unsure of where this was going. His face was utterly serious as he continued, the intensity in his eyes almost comical. “You have to answer the questions with what feels right to you—don’t overthink it, just go with your gut.”

You blinked at the stack of papers on the table, the colorful pens scattered around, and then back to him. The way he spoke—so intent, so dead serious—made it seem like he was about to launch into a criminal law exam or a high-stakes courtroom drama. But instead, it was… an MBTI test? Something Jungkook had created on a whim last night and printed out like it was some kind of official document?

It was absolutely ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but hide a grin. This was so Jungkook.

He was practically on the edge of his seat, as if waiting for a massive breakthrough in your psychological evolution. He tapped the paper a couple of times, as if he were an expert ready to reveal some deep, profound truth about you.

You stared at him, amused, eyes half-lidded, realizing that this was not the high-minded academic discussion you were expecting today. This was Jungkook at his finest. You tried not to laugh out loud, but his earnestness was too much.

“Right…” you drawled slowly, clearly entertained by how seriously he was treating this. “So this is like… a personality analysis? Just like that?”

“Exactly! This will tell you everything you need to know about who you really are.”

And there it was—another perfect example of Jungkook’s chaos, his unapologetic belief that everything, no matter how ridiculous, was important enough to be taken seriously. You shook your head in disbelief, but couldn’t help but feel entertained.

“Alright,” you finally said, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “What type are you then, Mr. Expert?”

Jungkook sat up a little straighter, tapping his chin thoughtfully before dramatically proclaiming, “I’m an ENFP. The campaigner—enthusiastic, creative, and full of ideas!”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you are.”

He grinned proudly, unfazed by your skepticism, before nudging the test closer to you. “Now, your turn. Answer honestly!”

You sighed, knowing this was going to be a lot more entertaining than you had planned for your break.

You hated how focused you were on the test. Reading each question carefully as if it were one of the most important exams of your life, when, in reality, you should’ve been studying for something much more significant. But Jungkook had a way of pulling you into whatever chaos he created, and before you knew it, you were marking your answers like they actually mattered.

The only sound in the air was Jungkook’s rhythmic slurping through his straw, interrupted only by the occasional dramatic sigh that escaped his lips. He would never comment on your answers—probably terrified that if he did, it would somehow influence your responses and ruin the results of his serious experiment.

It took you almost twenty minutes to finish the entire thing. You handed him the test with a slight feeling of disbelief that you had actually gotten sucked into this. “Verdict, Mr. Jeon?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, half-tempted to make fun of him but curious at the same time.

Jungkook took the test from your hands and began reading your answers with the utmost seriousness. His brow furrowed deeply, as though he were an experienced psychologist analyzing a patient’s deepest fears and desires. He nodded at the answers with a distracted expression, as if processing your choices was a very complex task.

“Hmmm…” He nodded again, this time a little more dramatically, as if everything was starting to make sense. “Interesting… Very interesting…”

You waited for the reveal, feeling both a sense of dread and amusement as Jungkook continued his mock analysis, clearly savoring the moment. He rubbed his chin like an old-timey detective piecing together the clues.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he dropped the paper back on the table and leaned back in his chair with a confident smirk.

“Well,” Jungkook said, drawing out the word like he was preparing to make the grandest announcement of his life. “You, my dear friend, are… an INTP!” He paused dramatically for effect, before adding in a whisper, “The Thinker.”

You blinked at him, waiting for the punchline, but he just grinned, clearly satisfied with himself.

“INTP?” you repeated, not entirely sure whether to laugh or question his methods. “The Thinker? Really? That sounds like a terrible description.”

Jungkook shrugged with mock seriousness, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s the best one! It’s all about being logical, analytical, and deeply curious. It says you tend to overthink everything and live in your own head—oh, and you’re probably the type to avoid emotional decisions, too.”

You stared at him, not sure whether to be offended or impressed by how well he seemed to have pegged you. “That sounds… vaguely accurate.”

“See? I told you this was legit.” Jungkook leaned forward, his excitement palpable. “I’ve been studying this stuff for weeks!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Jungkook’s theatrics. He was truly relentless. When he pulled out another sheet of paper from the mess and lowered his voice.

“And guess what,” he said, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone as that annoyingly adorable bunny smile appeared on his face. “INTP and ENFP are very, very much compatible.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, shaking your head as you pushed your foot against his ankle lightly, your patience starting to wear thin. “I should’ve known it would turn out like that.” You reached for your laptop, already preparing to tune him out.

Jungkook wasn’t deterred, of course. He was practically pouting now, his bottom lip sticking out in that way that always seemed to make his charm even more potent. “Everything is telling us to do something about that match the stars have made!” he whined loudly, his hands flailing dramatically in the air. “Come on, you can’t fake that!”

You gave him a long look, almost unimpressed but definitely entertained by his determination. “You really think just because the stars said so, we should… what, embrace the fate of this ‘match’?”

“Yes!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “I mean, come on—do you really want to deny the stars? The universe is practically begging us to be in sync!”

But you weren’t going to let him win that easily. “I don’t know, Jungkook. It sounds like a whole lot of nonsense to me.”

Jungkook pouted again, leaning toward you with his chin propped up on his hand. “Well, maybe you’re just too rational for this,” he said, teasingly. “Maybe you just need to believe a little bit more in… magic.”

You glanced at him, the corner of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. “I’ll believe in magic when you start acting like an actual gentleman,” you shot back with a playful smirk.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows dramatically. “I’m already a gentleman, thank you very much,” he said, half-mockingly, half-seriously. He leaned forward again, fixing you with a teasing gaze. “But if it’ll convince you to give this whole ‘fate’ thing a chance, I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, eyes narrowing as you folded your arms on the table. “Anything, huh?”

“Anything,” he said, with complete sincerity. The way he said it almost made you believe he meant it, and that’s when you realized… Jungkook was a lot more convincing than he had any right to be.

But you weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Not this time.

“Alright then, Mr. Gentleman,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “First, get me a refill of my coffee. I’ll need it to survive this… soulmate talk.”

Jungkook’s face lit up immediately. “Anything! I’ll be back in a second!” he said, already jumping up from his seat like he had just been given the best mission of his life.

As you watched him rush to the counter, you couldn’t help but shake your head. Maybe you did secretly enjoy Jungkook’s chaotic, persistent antics more than you’d admit…

When Jungkook promised he would do anything, you should have been more cautious.

You knew it came from a guy who believed in every whimsical, far-fetched thing under the sun and, more importantly, he was determined to get you to believe in it too. And maybe, just maybe, he was succeeding—just a little bit.

It was another ordinary day as you left your lecture, walking alongside Hoseok, who was happily recounting the poems he had just studied. He was going on and on about the beauty of love as described in each verse, the words almost spilling from him as you tried to tune him out, but as usual, his enthusiasm was contagious—still, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his idealistic notions of love.

You had no idea that the moment you stepped outside the lecture hall, your day would take yet another wild turn. The campus, full of people, should have made it impossible for you to spot someone. But there, amid the crowd, you saw him—the one and only Jeon Jungkook.

And no, it wasn’t because you’d gotten used to recognizing his face, his messy dark hair, his trademark bunny smile, or those absurdly bright boba-like eyes.

It wasn’t only you who noticed him, either. Hoseok, ever the curious one, immediately turned to you with a puzzled expression, clearly caught off guard by the spectacle in front of him.

“Why is there a guy holding a giant sign with your name written on it, standing next to a cute dog?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.

You were frozen, your feet rooted to the spot, unable to fully process what was happening. There he was, Jungkook, right in front of you, with a massive banner bearing your name in bold letters and Yeontan by his side. The crowd around him parted like the sea, but it was clear: Jungkook was waiting for you.

And you? You were speechless. You couldn’t move, couldn’t form a coherent thought. You were stuck there, watching him scan the crowd, eyes darting back and forth, until they locked on you, his expression lighting up.

Jungkook practically sprinted toward you, but his momentum was cut short when Yeontan decided he had no intention of moving. The tiny dog sat stubbornly in place, tail flicking like he was some kind of royalty, completely unbothered by the fact that his leash was still in Jungkook’s grip.

Jungkook let out a dramatic sigh, tapping his foot impatiently. “Stupid dog, just stand up,” he muttered under his breath. When Yeontan remained firmly seated, looking up at him with a level of indifference that only Taehyung’s dog could master, Jungkook resorted to threats. “If you don’t, I swear I’ll tell Taehyung to make you sleep on the floor tonight.”

Yeontan, predictably, didn’t budge. Worse, he let out a small, high-pitched bark—almost as if he was mocking Jungkook.

You couldn’t hold back your laugh. “Can’t handle a tiny dog, Jungkook? How do you expect to handle a bigger one, then?” you teased, stepping closer and standing on your tiptoes to peek over his shoulder. Your eyes lit up as you turned your attention to the spoiled little dog. “Yeontan, hi!”

And just like that, as if he had only been waiting for the right person to acknowledge him, Yeontan immediately stood up and strutted toward you, his fluffy body practically wiggling with excitement.

Jungkook let out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes as he watched you crouch down to greet the dog like he was the most important being on earth. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Maybe he was just angry,” he said after a beat, crouching down beside you, watching as Yeontan happily accepted your affection. “He doesn’t like seeing men. Yeontan hates guys who aren’t me or Taehyung.”

You scoffed, turning your gaze from the dog to Jungkook, who was wearing the smuggest grin imaginable. “Oh, really?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Yeontan or Jungkook?”

“Both,” he admitted without an ounce of shame.

Jungkook shot a glare at Hoseok as he walked off, a little annoyed at how casually he had brushed past him, clearly unfazed by Jungkook’s grand gesture. He was about to ask who he was when you spoke again, your voice teasing.

“So, what’s with the ridiculously large sign?”

Jungkook straightened up, feeling the weight of the oversized cardboard sign hanging awkwardly from his hands. “I needed to make sure you would see me,” he said with a sheepish grin.

You tilted your head, smirking. “Fate couldn’t do it for me?”

Jungkook chuckled, lifting the sign a little higher as if to prove a point. “Sometimes you need to take matters into your own hands.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small grin tugged at the corners of your lips. Without saying anything further, you stood up, stretching a bit, and started walking beside him. Neither of you had said where you were headed, but for once, it didn’t matter.

It was Tuesday, and usually, you would’ve been heading home by now—because it was 7 PM, and you had your usual routine of getting some rest and preparing for the next day. But tonight, for reasons you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you found yourself letting your feet carry you wherever Jungkook was going. Something about his presence had a way of making you forget about your usual need for structure, leaving you open to the idea of spontaneity.

You walked in silence for a while, the evening air crisp, but there was a sense of comfort in it. Something that felt easy. Even though it wasn’t part of your plan, you didn’t mind.

Jungkook beamed, motioning toward the arcade entrance as if it were some grand discovery. “Look where fate has brought us,” he said, excitement lacing his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you watched Yeontan enthusiastically tug at his leash, barking at the door as if demanding to be let inside. “So, fate is Yeontan now?” you teased, shaking your head with a small smile.

Jungkook followed your gaze to the tiny dog at his feet, and though he hated to admit it, maybe—just maybe—the little troublemaker had actually led them here. But there was no way he was going to let Yeontan think he was in charge.

“Are you up for some arcade games?” he asked instead, his voice casual, but there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You hesitated. You had an early start tomorrow. A long, exhausting day filled with classes, readings, and responsibilities you couldn’t afford to neglect. And you knew yourself well—without at least eight hours of sleep, you’d be miserable.

But then you looked at Jungkook. His wide, expectant eyes darting everywhere except at you, as if afraid of your answer. The way he fidgeted slightly, like he was already bracing for rejection. And then there was Yeontan, tongue out, tail wagging, practically vibrating with anticipation.

And somehow, against all logic, you found yourself sighing in defeat.

“Fine,” you muttered, already regretting it and yet… not really.

Jungkook’s face instantly lit up, as if you’d just agreed to something life-changing. “Really?”

You rolled your eyes, already stepping toward the entrance. “Don’t make me change my mind, Jeon.”

And just like that, you let yourself be pulled into another one of his ridiculous, impulsive adventures.

“Alright, buddy. Stay with the nice man, okay? And please—please—don’t make a scene.”

Jungkook crouched down to Yeontan’s level, placing both hands on his tiny, fluffy face as he spoke in a hushed but serious tone.

Jungkook sighed, reluctantly handing the leash to the bodyguard stationed at the entrance. The man arched a brow, clearly questioning why he was suddenly assigned dog-sitting duties, but before he could refuse, Jungkook flashed him a bright, pleading smile—eyes wide, all innocence and desperation.

And just like that, the bodyguard gave in with a resigned sigh. No one could say no to Jeon Jungkook’s puppy eyes.

“Good choice, sir,” Jungkook said with a dramatic bow before turning on his heel and striding into the arcade, Yeontan’s protests ringing behind him.

“You are literally the worst dogsitter,” you said, shaking your head as you followed. “You just abandoned him with a total stranger for some arcade games.”

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder at the entrance, watching as the bodyguard—who initially looked reluctant—was now gently scratching Yeontan’s head, looking far too soft for his intimidating size.

“He’ll be fine,” Jungkook shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Honestly, it’s better this way. If Yeontan could talk, I’d be dead. Taehyung would bury me alive for this betrayal.”

You rolled your eyes. “And yet, you’re still so proud of yourself.”

“Of course I am,” he said, grinning as he came to a stop in front of the claw machine. He rubbed his hands together, cracking his knuckles as if preparing for battle. “Because—I’m about to win you a plushie.”

Jungkook bounced on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders like an athlete preparing for a high-stakes match. His fingers flexed in anticipation before gripping the joystick with the confidence of someone who had spent far too many hours mastering the art of claw machines.

“Alright, tell me—which one’s coming home with you?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

You scanned the collection of plushies crammed inside the machine, your gaze immediately settling on one in particular.

“The bunny,” you said without hesitation.

Jungkook followed your line of sight, nodding in approval. The plushie was soft-looking, slightly lopsided, with tiny front teeth peeking out in a way that made it seem both mischievous and endearing. Unknowingly, a small smile tugged at your lips—it reminded you of someone.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way your expression softened, but instead of commenting, he shot you a wink, his usual playful confidence dialed up to maximum.

“Consider it yours,” he declared, cracking his knuckles dramatically before gripping the joystick like he was about to defuse a bomb.

“You do know that claw machines are scams, right?” you say, crossing your arms as you lean over the machine.

“Nothing is a scam if you’re skilled enough,”

You roll your eyes. “Right. And let me guess—fate is on your side?”

Jungkook grins. “Fate, skill, and pure determination.” He pushes the button.

The claw descends. Grabs the bunny. Lifts it.

And then—drops it right before the prize slot.

Jungkook’s jaw drops. His hands go to his head like he’s just witnessed the betrayal of a lifetime. “No way,” he whispers.

You snort. “I told you. Scams.”

But Jungkook isn’t one to admit defeat. Oh no. He pulls out more coins, inserting them like a man with a mission. “I will not lose to a machine,” he declares.

Attempt #2—fail.

Attempt #3—even worse.

Attempt #7—Jungkook is full-on yelling at the machine now. “You're rigged. Just admit it!”

By now, a small crowd has gathered to witness the absolute tragedy of Jeon Jungkook vs. the Claw Machine.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Let me try.”

Jungkook, looking utterly defeated, steps aside with a pout. “Fine. But if you win on your first try, I might actually cry.”

You take his spot, glance at the plushie you want, and move the claw with ease. One button press later, the claw grabs onto a cute little bunny plushie, lifts it, and—

Drops it perfectly into the prize slot.

Jungkook screams. “No way. No. Way.”

You bend down, grab the plushie, and hand it to him with a smirk. “For you, since you clearly can’t win one yourself.”

Jungkook clutches the plushie to his chest, looking at you with something close to awe. “I think I might be in love with you.”

You snort. “Shut up.”

You tugged at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him along with a surprising sense of urgency. You had a goal in mind, and there was no way you were going to let him chicken out. The moment you spotted it, the shooter laser game stood out like a beacon—something you used to love as a kid. Your dad used to take you there, and you’d always win, no matter how many times you played.

You hadn’t planned on telling Jungkook that, though. You wanted to see how determined he would be first, how seriously he would take this. It wasn’t just about winning—it was about making it fun, and seeing if he could keep up with your competitive side.

“Let’s do that,” you said, pointing at the brightly lit, futuristic shooter zone. Jungkook barely hesitated before his eyes lit up with excitement.

“Ready for some action?” he asked, almost too eager, as he handed his plushie bunny to the girl at the counter, his grin never fading. He slid on the neon vest with practiced ease, strapping the plastic gun around his waist with an exaggerated flourish.

“Okay, let me protect you,” he teased with a wink, stepping in front of you and walking toward the entrance of the game area, shoulders straight, as if he was about to face down a villain in a movie.

The mission was clear—this was going to be your game, and Jungkook was about to find out what it meant to face off against a determined opponent.

The moment the game started, you immediately fell into the zone, your eyes locked on your targets, fingers steady as you aimed and shot. But then, there was Jungkook, totally living his own action-movie fantasy. As you focused on picking off other players, he started yelling, “Cover me!” and then, with no hesitation, he dropped to the floor and did a full-on combat roll—completely unnecessary, but so Jungkook.

While you were racking up points, carefully picking off your targets, Jungkook seemed determined to make this game a one-man mission. He wasn’t playing it safe like the others, crouching behind barriers and taking strategic shots. Instead, he would rush directly into the fray, charging at his opponents with a reckless abandon, all while you watched in disbelief as he kept getting shot down, over and over again. It was like he was playing a completely different game.

The arena was dimly lit, the flashing lights of the game casting shadows and colors everywhere. But every time you caught sight of Jungkook, your attention was momentarily pulled away from the game. His face would light up with an almost childlike joy, his eyes locked in concentration, and his lips pressed tightly in a determined grimace as he aimed, his brow furrowed. Despite the madness of it all, you couldn’t help but grin at his antics.

As you watched him get shot again you leaned closer and whispered, “You’re not doing it right.” You quickly reached out, guiding his hands to hold the gun correctly, adjusting his stance so he’d be able to actually aim and shoot properly.

“It was right,” he muttered, a stubborn edge to his voice, but he didn’t protest as he immediately followed your correction, the gun now resting more naturally in his grip.

“You keep dying,” you pointed out, trying not to get distracted by the ridiculousness of the situation. “And you’re losing points because—”

Suddenly, he spun around, eyes wide as he shouted, “Behind you!” into your ear, as he shot at an enemy who had snuck up on you. His face lit up as he made the shot, turning back to you with a cheeky grin. “Call me if you need help,” he winked, clearly pleased with himself, and then, with zero regard for the other players, he dropped to the floor and started crawling across the arena like it was some kind of military operation.

You blinked, stunned for a moment. Literally no one else was crawling on the floor like him. But Jungkook? He was on his hands and knees, dragging himself across the ground as if there were some kind of tactical advantage to it. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, shaking your head at how ridiculously serious he was taking it all.

As the final seconds of the game ticked down, you caught sight of Jungkook once more. He had, once again, gotten himself shot for what felt like the thousandth time. He was lying dramatically on the floor, his body limp and still, as if he had been mortally wounded. But then, just as you were about to walk past, he reached out, grabbing your shoulder for support, and whispered in a voice that was way too serious for the situation.

“You must go on without me,” he said, gripping your hand with exaggerated intensity, his voice shaking as if he were facing his last moments.

He fell back dramatically, playing up his ‘dying’ act. But you weren’t about to fall for it.

You rolled your eyes, barely able to hide your smirk as you shoved him off. “You’re so annoying.”

And when the final scores flashed across the screen, your name was on top with a higher score than his. You couldn’t resist the small, victorious smirk that tugged at your lips. “Guess I don’t need your protection after all.”

Despite his over-the-top drama, he still grinned, following you like a lost puppy, not missing a beat. “Alright, alright, you may have won this round,” he said with a playful huff. “But the night is young. Let’s see who comes out on top in the next game.”

Jungkook knew he had to play this one smart. He had strategized this moment down to the last detail, carefully guiding you toward the dance battle game. This was his domain. If there was one game he could dominate, it was this one.

So, with all the confidence in the world, he turned to you and declared, “Fate says if I win, you owe me a wish.”

You scoffed, arms crossed. “When did fate ever say that?”

Jungkook waved a hand dismissively. “Just now. She whispered it to me.”

You rolled your eyes but stepped onto the dance pad anyway, letting him have his moment.

The game started, and that’s when you realized you were in trouble. Jungkook wasn’t just playing—he was performing. He was jumping, spinning, and moving like he was on a concert stage, while you were desperately trying to keep up with the arrows flashing across the screen. It was clear within seconds that he wasn’t holding back.

And then, as if he needed to rub it in, he ended the routine with a dramatic knee slide, stopping just in front of you. With a cocky smirk, he pointed at you like he had just finished a world tour concert.

“You must grant my wish now,” he said, completely out of breath but grinning like he had just won the lottery.

You, still panting, narrowed your eyes. “And what exactly is this wish?”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “A date.”

Your breath hitched. You scoffed, trying to play it cool even as you felt warmth creeping up your neck. “You just embarrassed yourself in front of a bunch of strangers for a date?”

Jungkook only grinned wider. “I’d embarrass myself anywhere if it gets me one with you.”

Yeah. That shut you up real quick.

That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, flipping your pillow to the cooler side, only to sigh in frustration when it didn’t help. At some point, you kicked off your sheets, but even the newfound freedom didn’t stop the restlessness creeping through your body.

And then there was the bunny plushie. Sitting there. Staring at you.

It was ridiculous how something so small could feel so significant. But it wasn’t just any plushie—it was the one you had won and gave to Jungkook, the one you had picked without really thinking, the one he had insisted you keep.

“You won it. You chose this one for a reason.”

His words played in your mind, looping like a song you couldn’t turn off. And what irritated you the most was that he wasn’t wrong. You had picked it instinctively, drawn to its slightly reckless charm—the little front teeth peeking out, the way its ears flopped in different directions. It reminded you of something. Of someone.

But that was the part you hated. Because you couldn’t explain it. There was no rational reason, no evidence, no logical conclusion to why this plushie—why he—was suddenly taking up so much space in your thoughts. It was an unsolved case, an unfinished puzzle, and that alone should have been enough to frustrate you.

And yet… somehow, it felt right.

And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

The first thing Jungkook did when he woke up was check his messages, his heart momentarily freezing in his chest before he sighed in relief.

Taehyung had only sent him a picture—an ugly close-up of himself mid-yawn, Yeontan happily licking his cheek. That was it. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Which meant… he didn’t know about his betrayal.

Shaking off the thought, he did what he always did—instinctively opened his favorite astrology website, scrolling straight to his sign.

Virgo: Don’t let yourself get down because of your poor love life!

Jungkook nearly threw his phone across the room.

He bolted upright, staring at the screen like it had personally offended him.

“Poor love life?!” he scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair.

He read it again. And again. As if, by some miracle, the words might shift and correct themselves.

“My love life isn’t poor,” he muttered defensively, brows furrowed. “It’s… just slow. A slow burn. Romantic. Building suspense.”

But then his expression faltered.

Three days.

It had been three whole days since that night at the arcade. Since he walked you home. Since you laughed at his dumb jokes and promised to text him.

And yet, his phone remained silent.

At first, he told himself you were just busy. No big deal. Then, by the second day, he convinced himself you were doing it on purpose, making him wait—a power move. But now? Now, as the third day stretched on, he was starting to wonder if… if maybe the website was right.

Maybe his love life wasn’t just slow.

Maybe it was dead on arrival.

With a dramatic groan, he flopped onto his back again, phone resting on his chest. His mind was racing, spiraling into increasingly dramatic scenarios.

Was this karma? Was this because he let Yeontan stay with a stranger at the arcade?

Jungkook sat up, eyes wide with realization.

It was the dog. It had to be.

He gasped, sitting up. “Shit. Is the universe punishing me?!”

Panic surged through him as he hovered over your contact.

(not) my crush.

His fingers twitched, itching to type something—anything. But what was he even supposed to say?

hey, did u forget about me? No, too desperate.

hey, are you mad at me? No, too pathetic.

hey, my horoscope just wrecked my entire self-esteem, please respond so I can prove it wrong? …Okay, maybe that one was the closest to the truth.

But instead of texting, he groaned and shoved a pillow over his face, muffling his frustration.

He was losing his mind.

And the worst part?

He was starting to think the stupid website was right.

Jungkook grabbed his phone with newfound determination, scrolling down urgently until he found your horoscope. If there was anything in this world that could give him an answer, it was this.

His eyes darted over the words, his heart pounding as he read: Today, you may feel a little more anxious than usual… maybe it’s time to open your heart?

Jungkook exhaled, a slow breath of relief washing over him.

Finally. Something to work with.

If you were feeling anxious, he could fix that. If you needed comfort, he could be there. And if there was even the smallest chance that you were truly considering opening your heart—like the blog suggested—then he would make damn sure that heart was opening for him.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

Jungkook barely took the time to breathe as he rushed through his morning routine.

Shirt—on. Shoes—on. Teeth—brushed, face—washed. Hair? A mess. But he didn’t care. He had bigger things to focus on.

Your horoscope had given him an opening, a chance—an actual sign from the universe. And if there was one thing Jungkook believed in, it was signs.

As he ran, Jungkook quickly glanced at his phone. Saturday, 10 AM. Which meant you were probably at the coffee shop by now.

He could already picture it perfectly—your usual spot by the window, an oversized cup of iced coffee sitting beside you. You once told him you liked it because you could leave it untouched for hours and it would still be the same temperature. He had laughed at the logic, but the way your eyes had lit up when you explained it had made it seem like the most brilliant thing in the world.

Then there was your laptop, decorated with colorful stickers—each one telling a small story. Jungkook loved those stickers. Loved watching you focus so intensely on your screen, completely lost in thought, before he inevitably interrupted with a question about one of them. You’d roll your eyes, sighing in mock annoyance.

“You’re distracting me,” you would say, but you’d always answer anyway. The thought made him grin.

Yeah. You were definitely at the café.

And Jungkook was going to be there too.

By the time Jungkook reached the café, he was out of breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run this fast—maybe during the high school tournament when he had spent months training for the final match.

He slowed his pace as he reached the front of the café, his eyes scanning the window. And there you were. Your face was pressed against the table, looking exhausted or maybe just lost in your own thoughts. Your usual large iced coffee was nowhere to be seen—replaced by a small cup, barely touched. But your laptop, with all its little stickers, was still there. You were still there.

Jungkook felt a rush of relief, but also a tightening in his chest. Something was off, and it was clear now. His horoscope had said you were feeling anxious, and everything about the way you were sitting, slumped over your table, told him his hunch was right. You weren’t just having a bad day; it seemed like something more. And he wasn’t going to let that slide.

With one last deep breath, Jungkook pushed open the door to the café, his focus sharp. He wasn’t here for some grand gesture today. No, this time, his mission was clear: he had to make your day feel better. Because if your horoscope was even half right, you needed someone to help. Someone to show up.

And that someone, he decided, would be him.

“Weather’s good, the sky’s blue, and I think we should go for a little bit of a run,” Jungkook said with a smile, his voice light but full of purpose as he approached your table. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his joggers, giving you an amused look.

Your head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and before you could even process it, you found yourself screaming, your face flushing bright red. The sound was involuntary, escaping you before you could stop it. In a panic, you slammed your laptop shut, suddenly feeling self-conscious, though you couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Why? Am I that ugly?” he muttered under his breath. But it wasn’t that at all—it was the opposite. Jungkook stood there in front of you, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe right.

For the past three days, it had been hard to even focus on anything other than him. Ever since the arcade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Your mind was constantly drawn back to the things he did, the things he said, his mannerisms, and the way he made you feel. There was something about him—something undeniable and confusing that stirred your emotions.

It wasn’t love, you were sure of that… but it wasn’t just attraction either. It was something in between, something you couldn’t wrap your head around. And that only made it worse. You hated not being able to define what you were feeling. You were used to rational thoughts, to clear explanations, and this? This wasn’t it. And that made you anxious.

He stood there, dressed in a full oversized Nike tracksuit that was beige and blue. His hair was messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it before rushing out the door. It seemed to have grown a bit longer since the last time you saw him, though you couldn’t even believe it had only been three days. He looked out of breath, cheeks flushed from his little sprint to the café, and somehow, that only made him more irresistible.

“So, how about that run?” he asked, voice light, but his gaze never leaving yours. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that would break the tension.

“You know I can’t go running, Jungkook. My finals are in two weeks, and—”

Before you can finish, he flops down onto the couch beside you. Not just beside you—right beside you. Close enough that you can see the curve of his eyelashes, the way his round eyes widen with innocent pleading. Close enough to notice a faint scar on his cheek, one you’ve never noticed before.

“Please?” He blinks up at you, fluttering his lashes in an exaggerated attempt to be cute.

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not gonna work on me.”

“Okay, fine,” he huffs, crossing his arms. “Then let’s talk logic. You owe me a date. I won the dance battle, fair and square.” He frowns, eyebrows scrunching like he’s personally offended that you’d forget such an important event.

“You seriously want our date to be… running?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook beams, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your hands—how you’re already packing your stuff despite your protests. “It’s not what I originally had in mind,” he admits, standing up and—without hesitation—grabbing your backpack for you. “But if it’s the only way to get you to spend time with me, then sure. Let’s make it a date.”

“You really can’t take no for an answer, can you?”

At that, he simply shrugs, tilting his head in a way that makes him look entirely too smug. “Maybe I should become a lawyer too. I clearly know how to argue my way to a win.”

You roll your eyes, following him out of the café as he leads the way toward your apartment, two blocks away.

“Yeah, well, cases can’t be solved with astrology or whatever,” you tease, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Jungkook gasps, dramatically clutching his chest. “Excuse me? Are you suggesting the stars don’t have all the answers?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m implying that the stars didn’t predict you annoying me into a run today.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Oh, but they did,” he says, reaching for his phone. “Your horoscope literally said you should open your heart today. And what better way to open your heart than a little bit of cardio?”

“You have a serious problem,” you mumble, but you don’t stop walking beside him.

He grins, triumphant. “And yet, here you are, willingly going on our first official date. Running,” he emphasizes, like it’s the most romantic thing in the world.

“You really think this is a date?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook stops in his tracks, turning to face you with the biggest, most innocent puppy-eyed look you’ve ever seen. “Of course it is,” he says, completely serious. “Spending time together, getting our hearts racing, maybe even falling dramatically into each other’s arms if one of us trips—”

“That’s just you being clumsy.”

“—And afterward, we get smoothies, because every date needs a cute ending,” he finishes, ignoring your interruption.

After making a quick stop at your apartment to change into something more comfortable, you step outside to find Jungkook already waiting for you. He’s stretching, his arms reaching up toward the sky, head tilted back slightly as he loosens his muscles. The sight is almost too much—like he walked straight out of a Nike ad.

“You know, I’m very competitive,” he warns, rolling his shoulders as you step beside him. “So you’d better be ready to keep up.”

Without hesitation, you mirror his movements, stretching your arms as well. “Please,” you scoff. “I was in track when I was thirteen. You should be the one worried.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? Guess we’ll see about that.”

And just like that, the two of you are standing there in the middle of the street, stretching like absolute idiots. But somehow, you don’t care. Because at least you’re two idiots together.

And you should have known—Jungkook was a fitness guy. The kind of person who could run for hours, barely breaking a sweat, and still have enough energy to challenge you to a push-up contest afterward. His stamina was unreal, almost unfair.

You had always been pretty confident in yours, but something about this run was different. Maybe it was the way he decided to casually shrug off his jacket, leaving him in just a fitted white shirt that clung to him way too well. Or maybe it was the way your breath hitched—not just from running, but from realizing you were definitely staring.

Jungkook was always ahead, glancing back every now and then with that ridiculously bright smile of his, teasing you, daring you to catch up. And when you did—because, of course, he slowed down just enough to let you—he only grinned wider, as if this was exactly where he wanted you to be.

And for the first time today, you weren’t thinking about finals. Or stress. Or anything else weighing you down.

Because that’s the thing about Jungkook. He’s this endless ball of energy, always smiling, always pulling you into moments that feel lighter, better—like today. And maybe that’s exactly why you—wait, like! Like. That’s why you like Jungkook.

You wonder how he knew today was a terrible day. Maybe his horoscope nonsense wasn’t so much nonsense after all. The thought makes you laugh—only to immediately regret it when you realize laughing while running is a terrible idea.

Your breath catches, and within seconds, you’re doubling over, coughing like an idiot. Great.

Jungkook stops instantly, his teasing grin replaced with concern as he jogs back to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now as he gently pats your back. You barely manage to throw a thumbs-up between coughs, and he sighs in relief.

“Let’s take a break, okay? You’re doing so well.”

And just like that, your heart does something weird. Because suddenly, it’s not the run making it race—it’s him. His voice, his touch, his stupidly sweet encouragement.

Honestly? You think you could run for another hour now. Maybe even two.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, watching as other joggers pass by, their rhythmic footsteps blending into the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

“It’s so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice softer than usual, his eyes fixed on the river. “I love running.”

For once, there’s no teasing lilt in his voice, no mischievous glint in his doe eyes. Just quiet admiration. Peace. Relief.

It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before. A side you—unknowingly, unconsciously—want to know more about.

“You know,” you say after a moment, your breath finally evening out, “I don’t actually know anything about you.”

Jungkook turns to you, his usual grin creeping back onto his face. “You know my name is Jungkook,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “I have a best friend named Taehyung, who has a terrible dog.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as he continues.

“You also know I’m a Virgo. And an ENFP.” He lifts a finger, as if he’s listing off important facts. “You know I’m a dance machine, and a—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes before he can spiral into one of his dramatic monologues.

Jungkook just chuckles, nudging your knee with his. And as you sit there, catching your breath beside him, you realize something—maybe knowing Jungkook isn’t about the big things. Maybe it’s about the small moments like this.

Jungkook exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I just don’t feel like there’s a lot to know about me,” he finally admits, voice quieter than before. “I’m not doing anything prestigious like law school. Or, well… anything at all.” He lets out a small scoff, but you can hear it—that vulnerability laced beneath his usual playfulness.

You frown slightly. “You don’t have to do something like that to be worthy.”

He doesn’t look up, just keeps staring at his shoes. His toes wiggle inside them, like some kind of nervous habit, and he lets out a small chuckle—but you know it’s not real.

“You probably think I’m an idiot for believing in stupid stuff like this,” he mutters, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re a law student. You obviously like solid facts. Things that aren’t based on some random website.”

You don’t say anything, just let him keep talking.

“Today, my horoscope said I was gonna have a bad day,” he continues, exhaling sharply through his nose. “And every time I read something like that, I do everything in my power to prove it wrong.”

For the first time, you really listen. You’ve always thought horoscopes were just an excuse—something people used to justify things happening to them instead of taking control of their own lives.

But maybe Jungkook sees it differently. Maybe, for him, it’s not about letting the universe decide his fate. Maybe it’s about fighting against it—choosing to seek out the good, even when the bad feels inevitable.

And maybe… that’s not so stupid after all.

After what felt like a long minute of silence—a silence that, surprisingly, wasn’t uncomfortable at all—you both finally start walking home. Conversation with Jungkook is always effortless, flowing like a river with no real destination, just moving naturally from one topic to another. He never lets the quiet stretch too long before filling it with something, whether it’s an observation, a joke, or a random thought that pops into his head.

And you love that.

By the time you arrive in front of your apartment, smoothies in hand just like he promised, you almost wish you could go for another round—just to spend more time with him.

You hesitate for a moment, watching as he sips on his drink, seemingly in no rush to leave either.

Then, just as you turn to head inside, you stop. “By the way—”

Jungkook instantly turns around at the sound of your voice, eyes wide, like he’s afraid he missed something important.

“I’m still waiting for the real date,” you say with a teasing smile, tilting your head slightly.

And before he can respond, before you can see whatever stunned expression is on his face, you finally step inside.

Jungkook stares at your closed door for a long second, then looks down at his smoothie, shaking his head with a laugh.

Yeah. He’s never been happier than right now.

If Jungkook had to describe what he was feeling right now in one word, it would be: terrible.

He was a walking disaster, pacing around his room, running a frustrated hand through his already-messy hair as he stared at the absolute war zone that was now his bed. Clothes were scattered everywhere—shirts he had tried on and tossed aside, jeans that didn’t feel quite right, shoes lined up in pairs as if they were about to be judged in a runway competition.

And still, nothing felt good enough.

The worst part? He had to swallow his pride and FaceTime Taehyung for advice. And that was truly, truly humiliating.

Because now, instead of being helpful, Taehyung was leaning into the camera, squinting like he was examining a piece of evidence.

“Bro,” Taehyung finally said, exasperated, “you look good in everything. Just wear clothes and leave the house.”

Jungkook groaned, rubbing his face. That should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t.

Still, after much internal debate (and Taehyung threatening to hang up if he didn’t stop whining), Jungkook finally decided: he just had to be himself.

And if that meant showing up in his usual slightly-effortless-but-still-cool style, then so be it.

Honestly? You weren’t doing any better.

Jungkook hadn’t even told you what the plan was. Instead, he had sent a series of texts that were so Jungkook that you almost regretted asking for clarification in the first place.

jk sexy virgo boy [4:32 PM] :

at least have something on u!

not that i would mind if not!!! :00

ewwww no!!! i know i shouldnt ask fucking taehyung for advice when it comes to that

you know what? just put on sneakers

oh and something you don’t mind really

…Yeah. That helped absolutely nothing.

You stared at your wardrobe for a moment, trying to make a decision that wouldn’t be too much, but also wouldn’t look like you were just casually hanging out with him as if you were old friends. You considered a dress, but it felt like overkill. Jeans were too laid back, too easygoing.

You finally decided on a pair of pants that were comfortable, but not too casual, and paired them with a simple t-shirt. You hoped that, by whatever weird cosmic force Jungkook believed in—maybe fate, or whatever the universe was trying to tell him—he would see that you weren’t trying to look good, but maybe just trying to survive this. You just hoped he wouldn’t see it as you dressing to impress. After all, you were definitely worried about looking like complete shit.

Jungkook was still a mess by the time he pulled up in front of your building.

Today was supposed to be his chance to impress you, so he had taken Taehyung’s advice—again—and took his car. Apparently, girls liked cars. Especially sleek, black ones like his. Jungkook had been skeptical at first, but Taehyung had said it with such confidence that he figured, why not?

Now? He deeply regretted listening to him.

At first, he had done his best to look smooth—one hand confidently gripping the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the passenger seat like he was starring in some kind of car commercial. But the moment he actually arrived, all that supposed confidence vanished.

Because now, there was no avoiding it. In just a few minutes, he’d see you again.

His pulse picked up, thoughts racing faster than they should. It wasn’t even a big deal—just a date. A casual date. A hangout, even. So why did it feel like his brain was short-circuiting? Why did his palms feel clammy against the leather of the wheel?

And why, for the love of everything holy, had he decided this was the perfect time to struggle with parallel parking?

Five minutes. That’s how long he had been at this. Five whole minutes of inching forward, reversing, adjusting, reversing again, somehow making it worse every time. There were other parking spots, easier ones, but he had stubbornly chosen this one—the one closest to your front door. It made sense. It would make things smoother when you got in the car.

Except nothing about this was smooth.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel. Alright. One more time. Just a few small movements, and—

A sudden knock on his window made him jump.

A noise—something between a squeak and a gasp—escaped him before he could stop it. His heart slammed against his ribs as he turned his head in pure panic, only to find you standing outside, arms crossed, amusement dancing in your eyes.

Jungkook froze. His mind blanked.

For a second, all he could do was stare at you, caught like a deer in headlights. Then, in a desperate attempt to salvage his dignity, he quickly shifted—one arm thrown back over the seat, posture adjusting into what he hoped was a nonchalant pose. With exaggerated ease, he rolled down the window, schooling his expression into something cool.

“Hey,” he said, voice only slightly strained. “What’s up?”

You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed as you peer down at him through the open window. “Having some trouble there, Fast & Furious?” your voice is light, teasing—but not unkind.

Jungkook visibly tenses, his grip on the steering wheel tightening for a split second before he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah… just, you know, making sure I’m not blocking anyone.” He runs a hand through his already-messy hair, a nervous habit you’ve started to pick up on. “Gotta be considerate of others.”

Your eyes flick toward his car—angled awkwardly, one wheel nearly kissing the curb while the other juts out into the street in a way that is definitely not considerate of anyone. You raise an eyebrow, amused.

“Right,” you drawl, nodding slowly. “Super considerate. I’m sure the other drivers will really appreciate the creative use of space.”

At that, Jungkook groans dramatically and throws his head back against the seat. “Okay, fine, I suck at parking. Happy?”

You laugh, leaning against the door. “A little.”

His head snaps toward you, scandalized. “Wow. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I don’t remember signing up for that.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. He’s fighting a smile, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. With a sigh, he shifts the car into reverse. “Alright, one more time. If I don’t get it this time, we’re Ubering.”

You smirk. “Deal.”

Jungkook straightens up, hands gripping the wheel with newfound determination. You step back, watching with amusement as he very slowly attempts to correct his angle, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in deep concentration.

And, to his credit—he does manage to park properly on the next try.

You make a show of clapping as he steps out of the car, locking it behind him. “Wow. Look at you. A functional adult.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning now, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he falls into step beside you. “Ha ha. Let’s just go before you hurt my ego even more.”

Still smiling, you nudge him playfully. “No promises.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman (when he wants to be), holds the passenger door open for you before settling into his own seat. He’s still keeping up this air of mystery, refusing to spill any details about where exactly he’s taking you. It’s your date—still such a weird thing to call it—but apparently, you’re not allowed to know a single thing about it.

You try everything. Nudging his shoulder lightly, poking at his arm, even giving him your best puppy eyes. But all you get in response is a dramatic sigh and a warning.

“If you keep that up, I swear I’m gonna crash this car,” he mutters, gripping the wheel like it personally offended him.

“You’re so dramatic,” you huff, leaning back into your seat with an exaggerated whine when it becomes obvious he won’t budge. “At least give me a hint.”

“Nope.”

“You could literally be kidnapping me right now.” You glance out the window, as if hoping that alone will make him talk. “Hoseok asked me to send my location, by the way.”

Jungkook scoffs, barely sparing you a glance as he switches lanes. “Well, tell that Hoseok guy that tonight, you won’t be giving him any updates. You’ll be way too busy with me.” He grins proudly, wiggling his eyebrows like he just said something outrageously smooth.

You give him a long, unimpressed look before deadpanning, “You sure are taking my time. Five minutes to park? Yeah.”

His smile immediately drops. “Oh my God, let it go!”

“Never.”

You were glad you hadn’t pressed Jungkook for more details because, as soon as you saw where he had taken you, excitement bubbled up in your chest so fast you practically bounced in your seat.

“Karaoke?” you exclaimed, eyes lighting up as you took in the neon sign above the entrance.

Before Jungkook even had the chance to step out and open the door for you like he had originally planned—because he was, in fact, on his best gentleman behavior tonight—you were already scrambling out of the car, clapping your hands together like a little kid who just got the biggest candy bar in the store.

Jungkook, now standing on the other side of the car, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, willing himself to stay cool and collected. But inside? He was screaming. You loved the idea just as much as he had hoped, and that was enough to make his heart do a full-on gymnastics routine.

Still, he played it off like it was no big deal. Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged, forcing a casual expression onto his face. “Yeah,” he said, voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “I think it’s time for you to witness my legendary singing skills.” His tone was cocky, the kind that made you roll your eyes and laugh at the same time.

“Oh, legendary, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “I hope you know I take karaoke very seriously.”

Jungkook only smirked, stepping ahead of you as he pulled open the door. “Then you better bring your A-game, because I don’t lose.”

As you both made your way toward the entrance, Jungkook suddenly picked up his pace, clearly determined to be the first one inside. But you weren’t about to let him win that easily. You mirrored his steps, speeding up just as fast, the two of you now locked in a completely unnecessary—and yet highly competitive—race to the door.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook reached the counter first, flashing a triumphant smirk as he leaned against it, effortlessly slipping into his “bad boy” act. He gave his name to the staff with an air of cool indifference, as if he hadn’t just practically sprinted to get there first. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but followed along as the employee led you both toward the private booth he had booked.

The moment you stepped inside, the dimly lit karaoke room came to life with glowing neon lights, casting streaks of pink and blue across the walls. Jungkook took one look around, nodding in satisfaction before turning to you with a cocky grin.

“Alright,” he announced, completely serious. “This is the place where you’ll fall in love with me.”

The words left his lips so casually, so matter-of-fact, that it took you a second to process them. When you did, you let out a scoff, but no sarcastic remark came to mind—because the truth was, you had already fallen.

And if you let yourself think about it any longer, you knew you’d realize something even worse.

That no matter how much you fought it, no matter how ridiculous he could be… you were probably going to fall even more.

It was nearly impossible not to laugh at Jungkook’s antics. The way he threw himself into every song—whether it was an intense rock performance, complete with dramatic jumps and exaggerated guitar riffs made with his mouth, or a heartbreaking ballad where he closed his eyes and poured his entire soul into each lyric—was something out of a fever dream. He wasn’t just a good singer, he was a great one. And beyond that, he was a performer. Every move, every exaggerated gesture, was so unapologetically him that you couldn’t even think about taking the mic away.

By the time he finished his latest emotional masterpiece, a song so devastating that you half-expected him to drop to his knees in despair, he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “I’ll show you how good we work together.”

Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand, effortlessly pulling you up from the couch. The warmth of his touch sent an embarrassing flutter through your stomach, and as he handed you a microphone, you caught sight of the song selection. A duet.

“Seriously, Jungkook?” You groaned, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

He didn’t even answer, too busy scrolling through the lyrics like he was preparing for the most important performance of his life. And when the music started, he went all in—grabbing your hand and twirling you in place before you could even sing a single note.

You tried to be serious. Really, you did. But how could you when Jungkook was dramatically belting out the lyrics, jumping around like a five-year-old who’d had too much sugar? It was ridiculous, and absolutely unfair, because the moment he pulled you close and started singing like you were the only person in the world, you completely lost it.

Laughter bubbled out of you, your voice cracking as you tried—and failed—to get through your lines. “Jungkook, I can’t—” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach as he twirled you again, this time nearly making you stumble.

“Oh, come on,” he teased, his own laughter mixing with yours as he tightened his grip on your hand. “At least try to keep up!”

You didn’t stand a chance. By the time the song ended, you were breathless—not from singing, but from laughing so much. And as Jungkook stood there, hands on his hips, chest heaving like he’d just finished a full-blown concert, you realized something.

This was the most fun you’d had in a long, long time.

“How was I?” Jungkook asked, his bunny smile stretching wide across his face, eyes gleaming with excitement. He was practically bouncing on his feet, ready to soak in every compliment you had to offer.

You opened your mouth, ready to tease him, but the way he looked at you—so expectant, so earnest—made you pause. His eyes were shining, round and full of innocent anticipation, like he truly needed to hear what you thought.

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “I think that not even the stars could have predicted how happy I am right now.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected that. His confidence wavered for half a second before he let out a choked laugh, quickly turning his head away. “Aish, what is that?” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint pink dusted his cheeks.

But you saw the way his fingers curled slightly, the way he ducked his head just enough to try and hide his flustered expression. And you knew, without a doubt, that it was the best answer he could have possibly hoped for.

Jungkook continued to sing, each performance just as energetic as the last. It was almost exhausting just watching him, yet somehow, he never seemed to run out of energy. His voice never wavered, his movements never slowed—he was a force of nature, completely in his element.

You leaned back against the couch, watching in amusement as he jumped onto the small table in the middle of the room, using it as a makeshift stage. The neon lights reflected in his eyes as he belted out the chorus, dramatically pointing at you like he was dedicating the song to you and only you.

It was refreshing, really. How someone could be so alive, so unapologetically himself. While you often felt drained and stressed, weighed down by responsibilities and expectations, Jungkook was the complete opposite. He carried an energy so contagious that it made you forget about everything else—your finals, your worries, the anxiety that had settled in your chest all day.

Jungkook had a way of making the world feel a little lighter. And tonight, you let yourself enjoy that feeling, completely and without hesitation.

Just like every morning, Jungkook checked his horoscope the moment he woke up. It had become a ritual at this point—his little way of preparing for the day ahead. He checked yours too.

So, still half-asleep, he grabbed his phone, scrolling through the daily horoscope predictions. Everything seemed fine at first, but then… an idea struck him.

What if he checked your full zodiac chart?

It was stupid, probably. But Jungkook never did things halfway. If he was going to believe in astrology, he was going to do it right. So he sat up in bed, grabbed his laptop, and started searching. He input your birth details, cross-checking them with what little information he had gathered from your conversations. He even went down a rabbit hole of different astrology sites, just to be sure.

Jungkook stared at the screen, completely frozen. His heart, which had been doing happy little flips since last night, suddenly felt like it had plummeted straight into his stomach.

INCOMPATIBLE.

A big, glaring red warning taunted him from the astrology website, as if the universe itself was shaking him by the shoulders, screaming ABORT MISSION. His hand twitched toward the laptop, fingers hovering over the trackpad like he was contemplating slamming it shut and pretending he had never seen this. Maybe if he refreshed the page, the result would change. Maybe the website was wrong.

But no. There it was. The hard, cold truth.

Your rising sign? Disastrous.

Your moon placements? A ticking time bomb.

Your Venus signs? Literally the worst possible match.

Jungkook let out a strangled noise of distress, running his hands through his already-messy hair. This was bad. So bad.

He had been so sure—so sure—that the stars had aligned perfectly when he met you. But now? Now it felt like the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on him. What if this meant something? What if this was a sign that things would go wrong?

He groaned, rolling onto his stomach to scream into his pillow.

And so, in true Jungkook fashion, he did the only logical thing: he decided to avoid you.

Just for a little while. Just until he could figure out what to do. Because what if he was leading you both into disaster? What if, despite how good everything felt, you were destined for heartbreak? He wasn’t ready to test fate like that.

He already missed you.

It didn’t help that the first thing Jungkook saw when he checked his phone was a message from you.

(not) my crush [9:54 AM] :

i went to the same website as you and my horoscope told me i would have really bad news!!! can u believe that? ahahaha!!!

Jungkook stared at the text, his brain short-circuiting.

Oh.

Without thinking, he flipped his phone face-down on the bed as if it had personally offended him. Then, after exactly three seconds of trying to process what he’d just read, he groaned dramatically and kicked his feet against the mattress, his frustration spilling out in the most childish way possible.

Why hadn’t he thought to check that sooner?!

Here he was, spiraling into an identity crisis, convinced the universe had doomed him to a tragic love story before it even began.

You hated it. Hated how Jungkook still hadn’t answered your text, even though it had been almost two hours.

Two whole hours.

It wasn’t like him. Jungkook always answered, even if it was just to send a ridiculous meme or a dramatic voice note about whatever chaos he’d gotten himself into. But now? Nothing.

You found yourself checking your phone every two minutes, staring at your last message, hoping—praying—that he’d at least open it. But he didn’t.

No read receipt. No typing bubble.

The more you thought about it, the worse it got. You couldn’t even focus on your lecture anymore, your professor’s words fading into white noise as your mind spiraled. Had you done something wrong last night? Had you said something that made him want to avoid you? You replayed every interaction, every joke, every single moment—but nothing stood out.

And yet, the silence felt like an answer in itself.

You didn’t want to be this kind of person. The kind who overanalyzed a single text, who let a tiny thing ruin their entire morning. But Jungkook’s weird antics had apparently rubbed off on you, because before you even realized what you were doing, your fingers were already typing into his favorite horoscope website.

Maybe, if Jungkook wouldn’t give you an answer, his precious astrology nonsense would.

The second the page loaded, you groaned, already hating yourself. How had it come to this? How had Jungkook managed to pull you into his ridiculous superstitions? You swore you weren’t like this. You swore you didn’t believe in this stuff. And yet, here you were, scrolling through planetary alignments like they held the key to your entire existence.

Just as you were about to give up, a familiar voice interrupted your crisis.

“Since when do you check horoscopes?”

You nearly jumped out of your seat as Hoseok dropped into the chair across from you, cracking open a can of Sprite. His brows were raised, eyes filled with pure amusement. “You always make fun of me for this,” he added, taking a sip.

Before you could even attempt to defend yourself, he leaned forward and glanced at your phone screen. His eyes widened.

“…You’re not even a Virgo.”

You tried desperately to hide your screen, quickly swiping the phone away from Hoseok’s curious gaze. “I’m trying to find answers,” you muttered, feeling the shame creep up your neck as you admitted the ridiculousness of what you were doing.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I didn’t think you were the type to believe in that stuff. You always said it was stupid.”

And you still thought it was stupid.

Virgo: It’s a wonderful day for you! You will feel happier than ever.

You couldn’t contain the scoff that escaped your lips. Happier than ever? Yeah, sure. If ignoring your texts and leaving you hanging was his version of a “wonderful day.”

Frustration bubbled up in your chest, and you quickly locked your phone, trying to push the whole situation out of your mind.

“And I still think it’s bullshit,” you muttered, half to yourself, half to Hoseok.

The hours dragged on as you sat at the coffee shop, staring out the window and occasionally glancing at your phone, hoping for some sign, some message, or at least a glimpse of Jungkook’s bright smile. But nothing.

The words from the horoscope kept playing in your head, an incessant loop. And all you could imagine was Jungkook, carefree and happy, doing exactly what he wanted, while you sat there, feeling like an idiot waiting for a message that wasn’t coming. It was infuriating.

You hated this feeling—the irritation, the frustration that bubbled up in your chest every time you thought about how he could be living his best day while you were left waiting, wondering what went wrong.

You had always admired Jungkook’s happiness. It was contagious, that energy of his. But today, for some reason, it felt like he was hiding it from you. You wanted to see it, feel it, share it with him. Why couldn’t he just reach out?

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the coffee shop, but there was still no sign of him. The usual excitement in your chest slowly faded, replaced with a gnawing emptiness. He wasn’t coming.

As you walked home, the weight of your frustration grew heavier with every step. Your fingers hovered over your phone, unsure, but the pull to send something—to send anything—was too strong to ignore. You didn’t know if you were really that type of girl, the one who couldn’t handle being ignored, the one who overthought every message or lack thereof. But the truth was, you couldn’t be cool about it. You couldn’t just let it slide. The silence, the waiting, the unanswered texts—it was eating away at you, minute by minute, as if every second without a reply was slowly driving you insane.

You knew you should probably wait longer. You knew you should probably play it cool, pretend you were unaffected. But you couldn't.

So you did it. You sent the message.

You stared at the screen after sending it, the nerve-racking weight of regret hitting you. Was it dramatic? Yes. Was it over the top? Absolutely. But it felt like the only way to break through the silence, the only way to make your presence known in this strange waiting game you were playing.

As soon as Jungkook received your text, his heart skipped a beat. His phone had been sitting in front of him all day, and he had been checking it every few minutes, hoping for something from you. So when he saw your message light up the screen, he reached for it almost instantly, nearly leaping off the couch.

His eyes scanned the words, and then it hit him:

(not) my crush [7:03 PM] :

the stars have spoken, and they predict that if i dont get a reply from u soon, i will accidentally manifest a series of very very very weird, unexplainable events in your life this week!!! hope ur ready for it jeon. </3333

He froze. The audacity. The way you used his own horoscope—his stars—as a weapon against him had him laughing and groaning at the same time. He couldn’t help it. You were threatening him, but in the most playful, ridiculous way.

His heart was racing, but he immediately turned off his phone, swiping the screen as if that would somehow protect him from the impending doom of your horoscope wrath.

He slumped back into the couch, shaking his head. “Why did I even get into this?” he mumbled to himself, feeling both entertained and somewhat panicked.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized: He didn’t really mind at all.

Turns out it was much harder than Jungkook had anticipated to ignore you.

First of all, his heart was screaming at him to see you. It had been four days without any interaction, and it felt like an eternity. He missed you more than he was willing to admit.

And second, you seemed to be everywhere. Or maybe it was just him. Jungkook swore that wherever he went, there you were. Walking down the same aisles at the grocery store, standing in line at the coffee shop, laughing with friends just a few feet away. It was like the universe was playing a prank on him, throwing you in his path at the most inconvenient times.

Like right now, for instance.

He’d been casually strolling through the grocery store, his mind distracted by the mundane task of picking out produce. When he turned a corner, he froze. There you were, casually walking through the aisle, completely oblivious to him standing just a few feet away. He blinked, his heart racing, not prepared for this sudden encounter.

He cursed under his breath, looking for a quick escape. His eyes darted around the store, and in the split second that followed, he spotted a shelf of canned beans directly behind him. Without thinking, he quickly ducked behind it, crouching down and trying to steady his breath. What the hell is wrong with me?

From behind the shelf, he peeked over the top, trying to gauge whether you had seen him. But you were still strolling along, picking out items, completely unaware of the mess he was making of himself. Jungkook felt both relieved and utterly embarrassed. He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.

Jungkook cautiously peered around the corner, his heart pounding as he tried to check if you were still nearby. His plan was simple—sneak out of the store without you noticing. Without thinking twice, he started to move swiftly toward the exit, hoping to escape unnoticed.

But fate, as usual, had other plans.

As he rushed past one of the aisles, a shopping cart suddenly came out of nowhere, rolling in his direction. Jungkook, not expecting it, collided with the cart full force. It sent him sprawling across the smooth floor, his feet flying out from under him and sending him into an awkward slide, his arms flailing like a windmill trying to regain some kind of balance.

“Oof,” he groaned, but before he could even recover from the fall, he heard a familiar voice, smooth and teasing.

“Oops,” you said, barely trying to hold back a laugh as you casually strolled by with your shopping cart in tow. The mischievous grin on your face made it clear that you were enjoying the sight of him on the floor more than you probably should have.

Jungkook watched you walk away, his heart sinking as you didn’t even spare him a glance. He had wanted to explain everything—about the horoscope, about his stupid overthinking, about how he’d been going crazy trying to figure things out in his head—but now it was too late. You were already too far away, leaving him standing there in the same spot on the floor.

The next few days were a blur for him. He couldn’t focus on anything. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stay away from you. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, his thoughts always circled back to you. He found himself at the coffee shop, the one he knew you frequented, even though he had no real reason to be there.

He threw on his black bucket hat, sunglasses, and a big, oversized hoodie, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. It was hot as hell, but he didn’t care. He was desperate to catch a glimpse of you, just a fleeting moment to see if you were okay.

As he hid behind the tree, peeking out just enough to watch you, Jungkook’s heart ached. There you were, sitting in your usual spot with your laptop in front of you, a steaming cup of coffee by your side. You looked so peaceful, so engrossed in whatever you were doing, and it only made him miss you more. He had been a fool, hadn’t he? He should’ve never let things get this weird, should’ve never let his insecurities get in the way.

He stayed there, trying not to make a scene, wishing he could just walk up to you and fix everything. But no, he was too scared to make the first move. So, he remained in the shadows, watching from afar, longing for a chance to make things right.

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat when a voice suddenly snapped him out of his nervous thoughts.

“What are you doing, you freak?” The words hit him like a bucket of cold water, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around to face the source. A man stood a few feet away, eyebrow raised in confusion, a can of Sprite casually dangling from his hand. The stranger’s gaze flicked between Jungkook and the tree, clearly puzzled by the odd sight of someone trying to hide behind it.

“You should probably leave before I call the cops for stalking,” the man added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jungkook’s face flushed a deep shade of red. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or to just make a run for it. He quickly reached up and pulled off his sunglasses, hoping to defuse the situation.

“I swear it’s not like that! I’m not a freak, I—” Jungkook stammered, his nerves now in overdrive.

The guy squinted at him, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. “Wait, you’re the guy with the cute dog, right?” He pointed at Jungkook, then made a show of lifting his finger to Jungkook’s bucket hat as if trying to get a better look. The recognition hit Jungkook like a ton of bricks. Of all the people in the world to see him in this ridiculous state, it had to be your friend.

“Seriously, man?” the guy called out again, clearly still amused, but not pressing the issue further. “You’re just gonna hide behind a tree like a creep?”

Jungkook winced, wishing the earth would swallow him whole. He could already feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and the last thing he wanted was for you to turn around and see him there, looking like a complete idiot. He couldn’t even face the guy properly, so he just mumbled something inaudible, turning around quickly and starting to back away.

“Alright, alright,” the man muttered, taking a sip of his Sprite. “But, hey, next time, try not to stalk people in broad daylight.”

As soon as Hoseok came to your table, he couldn’t hold back the grin on his face as he told you about Jungkook’s little hide-and-seek stunt behind the tree. You couldn’t help it. The sound of his description hit you like a wave, and you burst into laughter, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach hurt.

“He really hid behind a tree?” you asked, still chuckling as you wiped tears from the corners of your eyes. “That’s a new level of awkward.”

You weren’t angry at him anymore, not after hearing that. In fact, you were kind of amused. It seemed like Jungkook had finally realized how ridiculous his avoidance had been.

Still, you couldn’t let your guard down too much. Your chest ached with how much you missed him. The silence between the two of you had become unbearable, but your pride kept you from reaching out first. You needed him to make the first move, to come to you and explain why he had been acting so distant.

And just as you were starting to feel like maybe he’d never reach out, your phone buzzed with a message.

jk sexy virgo boy [4:37 PM] :

i failed the mission. meet me at the park pls pls pls? :(

It was like a breath of fresh air after holding your breath for days. The urge to jump out of your seat and run to the park was overwhelming. You didn’t even think twice. Your ego might have tried to hold you back, but the excitement in your chest was stronger. You were already putting on your shoes before your mind even caught up with what was happening.

You couldn’t say no. Not when he sounded so… genuine. Plus, how could you resist seeing him again, after all this time?

As you walked into the park, you couldn’t help but feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you saw him. Jungkook was sitting on a bench, his gaze fixed on the river. There was something oddly calming about seeing him like that, lost in thought, but it only made you more aware of how much you missed him.

His hair was longer than you remembered, the strands falling gently over his forehead. He looked even more beautiful than before—if that was even possible. Maybe it was the time and distance, but you found him even more striking now. He was still the same boba-eyed boy, the one you’d been both frustrated with and drawn to. It was hard to be mad at him when everything about him still made your heart race, even though you’d spent the past few days fuming over his silence.

What caught your eye, though, was the little fluffball sitting next to him. Yeontan was there too, his tiny tail wagging excitedly at your arrival.

“Hi, Yeontan,” you said, your voice soft as you crouched down to greet the dog. You purposely ignored Jungkook for the moment, focusing your attention on the little puppy as you gave him a gentle pat. Yeontan, ever the social one, eagerly licked your hand, wagging his tail even faster as if he knew he was the bridge between you and Jungkook.

Jungkook sighed, his voice low but tinged with a playful frustration as he watched you focus entirely on Yeontan. “The little brat always gets more attention than me whenever he’s around,” he muttered, tugging gently on the leash, trying to get you to turn your attention back to him.

You feigned confusion, looking around dramatically. “Who is speaking? Can you hear that, Yeontan?” you teased, purposefully ignoring him. You had told yourself you’d eventually listen, but that didn’t mean you were going to make it easy for him. You were enjoying the moment a little too much, watching him squirm just a bit.

Jungkook let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping. “Guess I deserve that,” he muttered, but he didn’t let the silence linger for too long. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it over to you.

“Here,” he said, a little nervous now.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting the piece of paper as you took it. “What is this? Is this a picture of me you took while hiding behind the tree?” you teased, your voice dripping with amusement. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he stammered.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear. Don’t make it worse than it was!” he quickly protested, reaching for your hand to pull you up beside him on the bench.

You snickered, shaking your head as you glanced at the sheets in your hand. “You had a bucket hat and sunglasses, Hoseok told me everything,” you said, practically bursting with laughter. “What was the plan? Hide from me like a secret agent?”

Jungkook groaned, sinking his head into his hands. “It wasn’t that bad,” he mumbled, but his voice was laced with embarrassment.

You finally looked down at the sheets in your hands, the title at the top reading: Reason Why Jeon Jungkook Was Ignoring You And Why You Should Forgive Him.

“Oh wow,” you said, your voice laced with mock intrigue. “Okay, this is gonna be interesting.” You began flipping through the pages, smirking to yourself as you saw the first point listed:

1. You know how I always trust the universe’s timing, right? Well, I checked our zodiac compatibility, and it was a red flag—like, flashing neon lights red. I had to listen to the stars, or else the consequences would have been disastrous. It’s really not personal, I swear.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, your eyes scanning the screenshots that Jungkook had sent you, his so-called proof of why he had been avoiding you. Your complete zodiac chart, one that you didn’t even know existed, was now paired with his, glaring back at you with all its astrological implications.

“Really?” you said, still chuckling. “You’re basing all of this on a website and the stars?”

Jungkook bit his cheek, clearly trying to hold back a smile but failing miserably. “It’s not funny. I had multiple mental breakdowns because of that,” he insisted, his voice barely hiding the frustration. But the way his eyes flicked back to the screen made it clear he was invested in this whole thing far more than he was letting on.

You continued reading, curious about the next part of his dramatic saga. When you got to the second reason, your laughter intensified. You could barely keep it together as you read:

2. Yeontan gave me some tough love advice. He said, ��Jungkook, the stars have spoken, and sometimes love can be as confusing as a game of fetch.’ I think he’s onto something, but I’m still unsure whether it’s me or the cosmos making me do this.

“Jungkook, are you for real?” You couldn’t stop laughing now, your hand pressed to your mouth to stifle the sound of your amusement.

Jungkook looked at you, his face serious despite the ridiculousness of the situation. “Yeontan gives great advice,” he said earnestly, his voice filled with mock sincerity.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeontan, huh? You mean the same Yeontan who doesn’t have the ability to speak?”

“Well, yeah,” Jungkook started, then hesitated. “It’s actually Taehyung who told me that, but… you know what, let’s just say it was Yeontan.” He gave you a sheepish grin, clearly trying to make up for the fact that the whole story was a bit far-fetched.

You shook your head, still smiling despite yourself. “A little lie to make me forgive you, huh?”

“Exactly.” He nodded seriously, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “A little white lie can’t hurt, right? Especially when it involves the world’s wisest dog.”

“Fine,” you said with a dramatic sigh, though you couldn’t suppress your smile. “But next time, just ask Yeontan for relationship advice before we end up in a cosmic catastrophe.”

Jungkook’s hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm but trembling slightly. His wide eyes locked onto yours, a mix of fear and urgency swimming in them. He looked terrified—like he had just thrown himself off a cliff and was bracing for the fall.

“Wait. Please,” he pleaded, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Read the next page.”

Something about the way he said it made your breath catch. His fingers didn’t loosen around you, like he was afraid you’d let go before you saw what he needed you to see.

With a small, reassuring smile, you finally lowered your gaze to the page in your hands.

It was a mess. Words were scribbled over, sentences scratched out so violently they nearly tore through the paper. His handwriting, usually neat and precise, looked frantic—like he had rewritten the same thought a hundred times, fighting with himself over the words before finally settling on the one line that remained untouched.

3. I decided I didn’t care about all of that because I love you, and I don’t think zodiac charts (as terrible as they look) can change what I feel for you.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of the paper as your heart did something strange—something impossible to ignore.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes back to him.

Jungkook was watching you like his entire world depended on what you’d say next. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling a little too quickly, his free hand clenching into the fabric of his jeans.

Your heart was pounding. You swallowed, trying to find the right words, but your mind was blank. He loved you. Jungkook loved you.

“Jungkook…” You looked up at him, and for the first time, the usual confidence in his gaze wavered.

“I know it’s dumb,” he rushed to say, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—I got in my head about it, and then I panicked, and I thought maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, and then I realized—” He took a shaky breath. “I realized I didn’t care. Because none of it matters if it means losing you.”

Your fingers curled around the page, gripping it tightly like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You… really love me?” The words left your lips softer than you intended, but they hung in the air between you, heavy and real.

Jungkook nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Yeah. I do.” His voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation.

You blinked, feeling the sting of tears you hadn’t expected. And then—because it was Jungkook, and because you had been waiting for this moment without even realizing it—you smiled.

“So… are you saying the stars were wrong?” you teased, holding back a laugh.

Jungkook groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder dramatically. “God, don’t start.”

But his arms wrapped around you anyway, pulling you in close, and you could feel the way his heart was racing against yours.

“You know,” you murmured, gently pulling his head away from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. “Now more than ever, I think astrology is bullshit.”

Jungkook didn’t argue this time. He just looked at you, his eyes soft, almost embarrassed. Because you were right. He had let some random website tell him you weren’t meant for each other—when everything about you, about this, felt exactly right.

He exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah… I think I might have overreacted a little.”

“A little?” you raised an eyebrow, hands settling firmly on his shoulders. Yeontan whined between you, attempting to wriggle into your lap, but you ignored him. Your focus was solely on Jungkook. “But,” you continued, tilting your head slightly, “I do believe in one thing now.”

Jungkook blinked, leaning in unconsciously. “What’s that?”

“Fate,” you said simply, your fingers moving up to cup his round cheeks, brushing against the warm skin.

His lips parted slightly, his breath fanning against your face as he searched your gaze. “You really think that?” he asked, and when he smiled, it was his bunny one—the one that made your heart ache and your stomach flip all at once.

And oh, how you wanted to kiss him right then and there. But first, you needed to say it.

“Because I met you,” you whispered, your thumbs tracing over his cheekbones, “and I love you.”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish another word. Before you could even blink, his hands had found your face, his lips pressing against yours in a way that stole the breath right out of your lungs.

It wasn’t just an apology, and it wasn’t just relief. It was Jungkook—stubborn, overthinking, hopelessly romantic Jungkook—showing you exactly what he felt without needing any more words.

And as you kissed him back, fingers curling into his hoodie, you knew.

The stars might have been wrong, but this?

This was written in the universe just for you.

#bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook fluff #bts jk #bts #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fanfiction #bangtan

546 notes · View notes

thetrasha · 13 days ago

Note

I don't usually make requests, but even though I know you've been told this before, I won't hold back from saying that I love the way you write the characters and, well, I love your writing in general!

I wanted to request something about the Straw Hats and how their ideal partner would be like.

(I don't know if this comes off as too vague, I just need more of your writing, please.)

Thank you so much, anon ╰(*°▽°*)╯ I'm glad you trust me with your request!! And I appreciate your support - more than you know, in fact 🥺Glad you enjoy my silly blog and want more. Luckily, I'm here to deliver...

And don't worry, I love vague asks, it gets the creative juices flowing :D Hope you like this one~~

PS. This is based on this post

Ideal Types

STRAW HAT EDITION

Law, Ace, Sabo, Shanks, Buggy version here

LUFFY

Luffy needs someone who…

isn’t afraid of rediscovering the world and in turn themselves

can be the voice of reason sometimes

feels rather than thinks

is open-minded, spontaneous and authentic

Luffy can help you cope with these character flaws:

awkwardness

naivete

timidness

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

dishonesty and apathy

Luffy sees you and, at first glance, just knew that you were going to be very dear to him. The world hasn’t been kind to you, even if you try to downplay your circumstances. You claim that others have it worse, that you’re not at all special, that you don’t have what it takes, but he knows. Oh, he knows that you do. You’re waiting to be liberated, to live life on your terms. He’s giving you that chance because he sees more than just potential in you – he sees expanding horizons when he’s looking into your eyes, he sees a soul that rivals the depth of the ocean, and he sees unimaginable treasure in you.

ZORO

Zoro needs someone who…

is self-assured, ambitious and humble

knows their place in the world or is relentlessly trying to find it

is an introvert rather than an extrovert

cares deeply about him and others

Zoro can help you cope with these character flaws:

pride

stubbornness

self-sacrificial tendencies

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

a weak sense of self and no desire to self-improve

Zoro sees you and… sees himself. Well, a less hardened version of him; you still have that softness about you, you have vulnerability and you’re not yet frayed, pulled apart by the seams, …you’ve had to carry your battle scars, yes, but they made you stronger, inspired you to take on the world, not shut yourself away from life experience. Your dream and your kindness coexist… Zoro thinks that’s fascinating. Your care for him proves your bravery – you are fond of the man who rarely talks, rarely reciprocates touch, who rarely… lives for himself, but you still see him for who he is and believe it’s worth protecting. You’re so admirable.

USOPP

Usopp needs someone who…

seeks harmony

hasn’t given up on the world and wants to make it better

has no tolerance for cruelty

is cheerful, dedicated and forgiving

Usopp can help you cope with these character flaws:

cowardice

anxiety

envy

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

choosing cowardice over doing what’s right and ingratitude

Usopp sees you and knows you’re someone who’s been burnt too many times. People don’t have nearly as much empathy for your situation as they say they have – believe him, he knows all about it. They can be so unnecessarily cruel, hostile for no reason… He understands why you’re like this and he feels an immense amount of protectiveness towards you, knowing that he can lift you up and show you that anyone can make it. You just have to believe in yourself! And if that’s too hard for you right now, he can believe in you for you, he doesn’t mind. One day you’ll stand beside him and you’ll thank the other for the things you’ve taught one another.

SANJI

Sanji needs someone who…

doesn’t judge other people prematurely

is deeply empathetic and acknowledges other people’s struggles

sees through anyone’s facade

is sweet, loving and reliable

Sanji can help you cope with these character flaws:

being too trusting

overthinking

insecurity

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

spite and being cold-hearted

Sanji sees you and feels seen. Nobody ever bothered to do things for him… just for the sake of taking some weight off his shoulders. It’s like your well-being depends on his own; he cannot fathom why anyone would want to spend time with him without expecting a favour or anything in return. And he desperately tries to pay you back with acts of service, but you just won’t budge. You tell him that this is what love’s like – it’s innocent and nurturing, a constant give and take. You respect him, which almost makes him cry. It’s a strange feeling… to be wanted without offering an arm and a leg, but he’s given you his heart anyway. Even without asking for it… you always had it, after all.

FRANKY

Franky needs someone who…

rejects rigid social structures

has something unconventional about them

has a strong sense of justice

is fun-loving, humorous and intelligent

Franky can help you cope with these character flaws:

self-destructive tendencies

deep regrets

scepticism/ distrust

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

greed and hubris

Franky sees you and thinks you’re enough just the way you are. You don’t have to change a thing about yourself. That fragile state you’re in – he’s here to mend it, slowly but surely. The world just didn’t appreciate your brilliance enough! You were just fine when you fit in because you’re one of the few people who could fell the system; that’s who you are at your core. You saw Franky and you saw a friend first, not a machine and certainly not a weapon. And as you slowly got to know him, you learnt to love both his human heart and the wires, pistons and cogs making it pump. You were hard-wired to reject yourself, but he’s here to tell you that you’re super awesome… well, until you learn to believe it.

BROOK

Brook needs someone who…

has a deep understanding of what it means to be lonely

is creative, funny and perceptive

feels like they are the odd one out

thinks rather than feels

Brook can help you cope with these character flaws:

feeling like you don’t belong anywhere

loneliness/ solitude

melancholy

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

disloyalty and small-minded thinking

Brook sees you and just intuitively knows that you’re his missing piece. You relate to his greatest source of pain, but you don’t let it keep you from living your own life, no, you use it as fuel to make your time on this Earth matter. You know just how precious time really is, so you are unapologetic in your pursuit of your own happiness, even if the path towards it isn’t exactly easy. It’d take him some time, but he wants to be the reason behind ever chuckle, every smile, every bit of affection you’re ready to offer. You’ve been so alone for so long, nobody has ever bothered to see you for who you are: You are vibrant and so worthy of being alive. It makes him appreciate the time he’s got now, too.

JINBE

Jinbe needs someone who…

is wise, mature and caring

is curious about other cultures and their customs, wants to understand the world

loves learning something new every day

recognises that one person cannot change the world – but doesn’t obey in advance either

Jinbe can help you cope with these flaws:

inability to find your purpose

feelings of inadequacy

pessimism and/ or nihilism

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

hypocrisy and hedonism

Jinbe sees you and knows you’re meant to be something great, you just need a helping hand and some words of encouragement. Maybe that’s what you’re lacking – a strong support system. He’ll gladly provide that for you, just to see you thrive right next to him. It’s strange; he thought he would never find someone quite like you, everybody has their charm, but you were introspective and self-aware. With him, you can put most of your worries to rest. You don’t have to adapt to getting the short end of the stick anymore, you don’t have to be there for everyone only to get nothing in return. He makes sure that you’ll always have someone to lean on and cry with.

#one piece #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #jinbe x reader #x reader #thetrasha writes #thetrasha requests

329 notes · View notes

stuffeddrawer · 5 months ago

Text

cw: sex pollen, insanity?, lots of swearing if you're not into that. omegaverse reader is a sub alpha, tf141 are dom omegas bc i say so word count: 1497 MDNI

(divider by @cafekitsune)

You fucked up.

It’s not even a big screw up, not yet. It’s not even world ending, but the tiniest inconveniences drove you up the damn wall and your mind was already distracted with a thousand other things. You find it hard to believe that people’s minds are usually quiet, are supposed to be quiet – yours has always been loud.

This isn’t what’s fucked up.

You’re in the middle of a deployment, started feeling off a few days ago but you brushed it off. Fool. Your brain chastises you. Should listen to your gut more often. Now look at you. Huffing and puffing and—

You noticed this off feeling a day before you went off on your mission – even that was supposed to be simple. Truly – get in, get out. Done. Supposedly.

But even that was still messed up.

You thought you tracked your cycle correctly, thought you had everything prepared, thought this mission wouldn’t overlap with your cycle, thought thought thought—

You picked at your gear, growing increasingly frustrated with every buckle, every strap. Every single piece of gear on your person, right down to your extra pair of gloves, was beginning to irritate you. You fucked up.

Your groan was loud enough to be heard when you couldn’t put your silencer on fast enough. You were already frustrated with your upcoming rut, skin flushed and warm, vision already tunnelled and now the sudden influx of hostiles did nothing to soothe that roar in your chest, the ringing in your ears. It did nothing to calm that angry alpha in your brain.

You were so frustrated with everything and everyone that you didn’t immediately smell something sweet in the air, something sweet enough to make you dizzy, discombobulated, your mind honing in on one thing and one thing only. That sweet, sweet omega smell. It took a moment, but your mind swam, vision blurred, growls and huffs leaving your mouth, desperate for someone to sink your teeth into, for someone to use you, for you to use someone. You didn’t care.

You fucked up.

You shouldn’t have gone on this mission, not when you knew you could go into a rut at any given time. You knew, you knew, and you still went. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, knew that something was going to happen. Fool. Knotted with anxiety and stress and you still should have trusted your gut. You wanted to wonder what the hell was wrong with you, that you could have sworn you had an extra day or two to really make sure you had everything you needed, but with that roar in your ears, the desperation seeping into your bones, you just don’t fucking care.

You pad over to where you thought the door was, rolling your eyes when you find it’s been locked. Shit. Your stomach growls, you think you growl, your blood rushing in your ears too loudly for you to understand just what the hell is happening. That smell is so sweet, like some pretty omega you just want to sink-

You huff, trying to take deep breaths once you realise what happened, just what exactly they’ve gassed you with, the room they’ve locked you in. Your cycle was forced to start, your gut was telling you this was going to happen. Your mind is racing and you just can’t keep up. You growl, yell, scream, throw yourself against the door, desperate to get it open, but it won’t budge. Like your stubbornness and inability to listen to what your body’s telling you, the door doesn’t open, doesn’t so much as whine when you press your weight against it.

You think you cry out when you move, the ache in your bones growing, the heat pooling between your legs almost burning now as your knees crash against the concrete beneath you. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Or does it feel so fucking good when you start to palm yourself? You don’t know. Your mind is so twisted and hazy, solely focused on one thing, and to have that thing denied to you? You think you’re going insane. Your grip on reality feels like it’s starting to slip.

You can’t even hear your radio sparking to life, can’t hear Price demanding a check in, can’t hear him repeating what he said, this time more urgently, a hint of fear perhaps? You really can’t tell if it’s just the blood in your ears rushing south, your entire body aching and on fire, or if he’s actually talking. You feel like you’re going insane. Going feral.

Your body writhes on the floor, equal parts bliss and agony, stars bursting in your eyes but you can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the pleasure. Or both. Sometimes it’s both. This time it just fucking hurts. Or does it? You don’t know. You don’t care. You fucked up.

You didn’t want to fuck the seam in your pants or your hand, you just wanted to get this mission done and spend your cycle surrounded by your packmates, surrounded by the people you trusted the most, people you knew would take care of you. God, it fucking hurts.

You want Kyle against your back, holding your arms behind you, whispering sweet nothings and cooing into your ear. Johnny to tease your nipples, bite and mark up your throat. You want John and Simon to make your legs shake, want them to use you as their own toy, want to be left mindless and fucked stupid, satisfied with your pretty omegas at your side, purring and content. You want Johnny and Kyle to clean you up, lick you clean, you want all these things, but you’re left on the floor in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere, desperate and borderline feral.

You shift your hips back and forth as you practically grind on your hand, on your knees now, groaning into your arm with your eyes screwed tight. You wanted someone to take you for all you had, make your legs shake and throat raw from how you practically cry out their name, treat you right like they’ve always treated you, how you’ve always treated them.

You fucked up and were now writhing on the floor, entire body shaking from the pain in your system, a small puddle of drool forming on the floor from how you’re sat – knelt? Bowed? You peek your eyes open, try to take a look around the room, try to find another way to escape, to free yourself, to eat and be eaten. Your vision is too hazy, too fuzzy for you to make anything out. You can’t focus on anything other than the ache between your legs.

The whine that fills the room – you think fills the room – is nothing short of desperate, angry and loud. Your chest hurts from how heavy you’re breathing, you can’t think past the ache in your bones, you think you cry out again, your finger pressing a button – buttons? You don’t know – your mind’s slipping away from you faster than you can catch it, like trying to hold fog. You don’t even feel scared anymore, just so fucking horny, desperate, pleading for someone to use you and for you to take your time with them, please, please, please.

God, you’re so hungry, your entire body shaking, growls and huffs leaving your lips as it feels like the walls are closing in – it hurts, it hurts so fucking good. You hump your hand faster, angry, but it’s still not enough. You want to feel your packmates’ hands on you, want to feel every inch of them, want them on you, in you, you don’t care – you want them in the worst way, but you fucked up and you’re stuck here, growling at nothing. You draw your hand back, hand slick with your arousal, room heavy with the scent of an alpha starting their cycle, forced to start it. You try to move, throw yourself against the wall to break yourself out of this trance, out of your own mind, but it only makes your brain break faster, sanity slipping like sand through dry fingers.

That stupid omega sweet scent drove you insane, you want more, crave more, are aching for more. Your mind felt like goo, like every sense of You was long gone. You think you hear the door open. Too late.

You’re too fucked up to recognise him, too feral to notice the boonie hat, the three other men standing behind him – you snarl at whoever walked in. Your body’s tense, more tightly wound than anyone’s ever seen. Your gaze is hungry and angry, and fucking famished. You’re starving, you’re angry, you’re so desperate for an omega to fuck, you’re—

You leap, your teeth barred and mind blank, snapped like a dry twig in the middle of a sweltering summer.

The task force’s now-feral alpha is knocked out before their teeth can do any lasting damage to their captain.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #things stuffed in the drawer #cod modern warfare #cod headcanons #tf141 x gn!reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 x reader #poly!141 #cod omegaverse #alpha reader #omega 141 #mdni #pls tell me if i missed a tag - i want to tag things correctly #tw dub con #i guess would be the best tag

429 notes · View notes

alikesical · 3 months ago

Text

one-sided academic rival! Dick Grayson × reader

Being in university was hard enough as it is. Now imagine that plus an annoying trust fund baby making it his life's mission to annoy the hell out of you.

trigger warnings: kissing, reader in deep denial, reader gets attacked, dick gets injured

word count: circa 8K

part 1 part 2

Going to university was a privilege you never thought you'd have.

Although now it feels more like a curse.

"What do you want?" you ask the man sitting in front of you, swirling a pen around his fingers without a care in the world. It's not like you had a midterm in a few days.

Only you did, and he was distracting you, "Your attention would suffice for now" he says, honey coating his words.

You exhale as you raise your head, squinting at the bright light behind him, "Can't you see I'm busy?" you ask, rolling your eyes.

But Dick Grayson ignores your blatant annoyance towards him, as he did every other time.

"Oh, come on," he smiles, sitting across from you, "You've been locked in here, for like what, a year?" he exaggerates, leaning towards the table, "You can take a break."

"Breaks are for those who are done studying." That's not true. You know that, he knows that. But he's just here to annoy you, so you don't care what's true or not, if you continue working he'll get bored and leave.

"It's doesn't have to be long, just a minute." he presses, now full-on laying on the table. Has he no shame?

Stupid question. Of course not, people like Dick Grayson don't know how to feel shame. Either because they are perfect at everything, always, or because they are trust fund babies, who never had anyone tell them to stop behaving like children.

"No." you repeat, voice flat.

Dick continues staring at you, a smirk plastered on his face as always. No wasn't gonna cut it. "This actually reminds me of the time, my brother, Jason-"

You exhale loudly as he starts telling you yet another story. After this many interactions with Bruce Wayne's ward, you know he won't stop talking until you give in.

You always considered yourself stubborn, and in all truth, you were. You never backed away until you got what you wanted. That's one of the reasons you are here in the first place.

Unfortunately, you had met you equal in these very halls, and you knew better than to hold your ground on a losing battle.

"Okay, stop. What do you want?" you give in, putting your pen down, turning to look at him, your arms crossed in front of you.

"You."

You're taken back by his words, a slight heat creeping up your neck, "Excuse me?"

Only then does he realise what he said, "Not like that!" Dick waves his hands around, feeling the heat on his cheeks increase tenfold, praying you dont notice how flustered he got, "I wanna be partners for the next assignment." he says, willing himself to calm down, a smile finding its way home on his lips.

"No way." your answer is immediate, and his smile falls in an instant.

"What?"

"Have you hit your head on a pole, Grayson?" you snort, revelling in the fact you had the upper hand even for a while, "I said no."

"But why?"

"Because." I won't be able to live with myself if you actually end up being a good student and not just lucky.

"But it's gonna-"

"No."

"Fine" he says "What about a bet then?"

"A bet?"

"Yeah, if I score higher than you on the next test, you become my partner-"

"No, I know when I'm set up for failure"

"Let me finish," "If you get a higher grade, I won't speak to you ever again."

"...Never again?" you raise an eyebrow, "You're capable of holding your tongue for that long? I'm surprised."

Wrong answer.

"Wanna see the other things my tongue can do?" he says smirking at you, tingling his eyebrows.

The heat that creeps up once again is very distinguishable.

This wasn't an issue of you having a crush - which you were not - but an issue of having eyes.

You'd be a liar to deny that Dick Grayson was a very attractive man.

"Youre disgusting." you shoot, face grimacing, you force your eyes back on your notebook.

You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin. Not today, not ever.

"I know it keeps me up at night." he leans back, "So what do you say?"

"To you showing me your skills?" you mutter flatly, a small smile still appearing on your lips, missing how this time around, he was the one feeling the familiar heat, "In your dreams, Grayson."

"Then I'll keep dreaming."

You can't believe this. This isn't real. It's not true.

"See, this sweetheart?" Dick shoves the paper in your face, "98%" he grins at your flabbergasted expression, "I win!"

"H-How..." you studied so much for this. How could he beat you yet again. You exhale in defeat.

You have a bet, you'll upkeep it. You're not sore loser.

"Fine." Dick grins, "We can do it over at my place." you offer.

He smiles at you, "Okay, let's go!" he grips the strap of his backpack entusiasticly, making you roll your eyes.

This isn't happening.

A bus ride later, you're back in your house, Dick Grayson in tow.

"Do you want water? Tea?" you ask, hearing him close the door as you head into the kitchen.

"Tea." he says, and you feel him moving around, snooping no doubt.

"Sugar?"

"Don't need any", you hear him say in the distance as you add three teaspoons in your cup -you know its not the healthiest habit but you can't help but indulge in your sweet tooth- "You're sweet enough." you hear him much closer to you this time.

You turn around, wanting to retort to his flirty comment, chastise him about you'd have none of it during the duration of your project. But you're left speechless, gasping lowly at the distance between you two. Dick was standing extremely close to you, to the point you could feel the heat radiating from his body - or maybe it was your own rising up rapidly at the proximity. You look in his eyes, glinting with mischief and something else you couldn't quite place.

"What?" he smirks, trapping you between himself and the counter, "Cat, got your tongue?" he whispers in your ear. You can only gulp at his words, feeling your skin prickle as he moves closer to your neck.

"Oh, shut up." you say and push him away lightly, feeling the difference in temperature immediately. "We have a project to do." you grab one of his arms and try to go to the living room. Away from him, away from whatever he had in mind.

"Not so quickly," he grabs your wrist with a quick motion, pulling you back at him. You feel yourself falling, yelping as you place your free hand on his chest trying to support yourself.

"Dick," you mutter, raising your head to look into his eyes, "Let go." you say, your voice steady, but heart thrumming inside your chest.

"You really want that?" he asks, raising your hand towards his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, all the while staring into your eyes. Were they always this blue?

"Your pulse is rising," he presses on your wrist as he lowers your hand, pressing it on his chest, covering it with his own, "Your pupils are blown..." he leans down.

You exhale shakily. You're staring, you know. But how can you not when he looks ethereal under this light. Like a dream come true.

"Stop me." he says, a breath away from you, leaning in slowly, steadily.

You don't make a noise. You don't move a single muscle, afraid to break the moment. You just stare in the sea of his eyes, willingly getting lost in them.

Next thing you know, you feel a pair of lips on yours.

He's kissing you. Dick Grayson is kissing you.

It is soft and tentative, as if he's scared you'll pull away. But you dont, not when it feels this right. This good.

You move against his lips, kissing him back in the same manner, and he immediately brings his free hand to your jaw, the other still holding your hand against his chest, as he leans in, deepening the kiss.

You feel so many things at once, slowly getting overstimulated. From Dicks lips rhythmically moving against your own, to his heart beating widely under your hand.

This feels like heaven. He feels like heaven.

"Dick," you exhale, and he pulls away just enough to let you breathe, forehead resting against your own.

You simply stare at him, before pulling your hands away from him, seeing his smile falter if only for the minute it takes you to throw them around his neck, whispering don't stop as you dive into his lips again, with more fervour than before.

You can feel him smile in the kiss, moving his hands to the small of your back, slowly reaching downwards -

You suddenly shoot up drenched in cold sweat, the room feeling hotter than usual. You're lying in your bed, looking at the ceiling above you, the room filled with the commotion caused by the traffic. You're alone...

"What the fuck."

"Hey!" you see a hand waving in front of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You jump a bit, taken aback, "Rough night?" you look up and see the last person you wished to. The same person you were thinking about, despite your best efforts not to.

You turn red at his words, the dream still fresh in you head "Wh-What? No, no. Why would you say that?" you chuckle nervously, tearing your eyes away from him, "It was a totally normal night and I am fine!"

"Fine people don't get this jumpy when people talk to them." he chuckles lightly.

"Maybe I'm having an allergic reaction to you" you glare at him, trying to get yourself to calm down. "What is it you want anyway?"

"You still haven't given me an answer," he says, and you can see his mouth moving but can't hear a thing.

"You really want that?" he asks, raising your hand towards his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, all the while staring into your eyes. Were they always this blue?

You shake your head lowering you head. God damnit, why did he have to be here.

"Are you listening to me?"

"H-Huh? What?" why did you stutter? He's gonna realise. He's gonna realise and you'll be fucked.

"The bet," you can feel your cheeks flush at the sound of his voice. What is wrong with you?

"No." you answer quickly, wanting, needing him to go away.

"Why?" he presses.

"Cause I don't feel like it." you reply and get up. If he wasn't going to leave, you would.

But luck wasn't by your side, "Okay, if you don't wanna have a bet, just partner up with me!" he scrambled, following behind you. "I know you wanna do well, and I can help with that!" he exclaims, you shake your head trying to drown out the sound of his voice, "Plus I'm great company! I've been told I'm very charming-" you stop in your tracks and turn around annoyed, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

He wasn't as quick though, and ended up body slamming on you. You yelp as you feel yourself getting off balance, you close your eyes, waiting for the pain to hit any moment now.

But it never came.

Instead you feel a warm hand around your wrist. You open your eyes seeing Dick Grayson looking down at you.

Your breath is caught in your throat, getting dizzy.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you feel your whole body burning up at the proximity. He's so close, too close.

"Okay, lets have that bet, whatever!" you end up exclaiming, pulling away from him, it was like if you'd stayed in his presence any longer, he would have burned you alive. And with that, you storm away, leaving him behind with a confused smile on his face.

He didn't know what was going on with you, but you agreed.

A win is a win, and he'd take it.

You wanted to say that falling asleep in the library wasn't a common occurrence.

And a few weeks ago you'd say that this is lie and you're not a liar.

But nowadays, lies are all you tell.

So, no falling asleep in the library, drool coating your chin wasn't common.

The same way your dream about Dick Grayson did not make you feel a certain way.

You shake your head as you tighten your coat around you. Gotham winters are brutal. The temperature was below freezing at this point, and the city was one rainstorm away from being coated in white, like a very depressed, very drunk bride to be.

God, you couldn't wait to get out of this hell hole. Go someplace warmer, safer, and welcoming. Metropolis sounds like a good choice. Maybe even leave the country? But then you'd had to learn a whole new language, and at this point, the only thing you can store in your brain is information for next weeks test. Maybe in the summer?

You could learn French, maybe Greek? What if you just went for it and learned Chinese? That could be fun.

You speed up, pulling your head out of your own daydreams, trying to get to the bus stop as quickly as you can.

Living this far away from the city centre is annoying for sure, but apartments aren't cheap anywhere, much less a nice apartment with no holes in the walls and no leaking ceilings, in a good neighborhood, close to the university. But that wasn't your apartment, and that wasn't your neighbourhood. So you speed walk towards the bus hoping the last bus of the day hasn't gone by while you slept.

You check the display on the bus stop. A quarter past one, fifteen minutes till the bus arrived. You exhale in relief at this, you'll be home soon enough, safe under the warm covers of your bed.

You sit on the bench, close your eyes, and let the cold air caress your face. This was a good time to do your mental journaling. This way, you can just head to bed without disrupting your carefully constructed routine.

And this was a good day all in all.

Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. Dick Grayson looking like an angel- No. No Dick Grayson. No dream. That didn't happen.

Okay, let's start from the top. Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. You got your American History test score back, which meant you wouldn't have to pair up with Grayson. They had pasta in the cafeteria. Dick Grayson smiling down at you with his perfect smile, his skin shining -

You open your eyes, exhaling in annoyance. "Jesus Christ..." you matter as you start pacing.

Ten minutes to go.

This didn't make any sense. You don't like the guy, not even as a friend, much less in any romantic or sexual way. All he does is annoy you, pulling your focus away from what is important. So why? Why the hell the only thing you can think of is that stupid dream you had, which by the way was nothing more than your brain using what he said to you, to conjure up these absurd images. If anything, this was his fault. Again.

It wasn't like- you stop at your tracks. There are footsteps closing in.

You turn forward and see a man approaching you. Shit. He was older than you and bigger.

Maybe he's just there for the bus. There's no reason you freak out, you think, but you still hold your bag tighter, just in case you needed to run or hit him or both at the same time.

"How long?" you hear him say, his voice low and gruff, slurring. God, you could smell the alcohol on his breath from here.

"Wh-What?" you stutter turning your head to look at him.

"Can't you hear? How long is the bus?" he yelled pulling his hands out of his pockets.

You felt nauseous in his presence, "O-Oh, it's gonna be here in," you check your phone, "seven minutes." he only grunts in response, you turn forward, hoping he'll stop asking questions.

But in no universe, you'd ever get what you want, "Tis very late for a young thing like you to be out in the cold," you only hum in response, "What are you? 21? 22?" you don't amswer.

He takes a step towards you, you shuffle to the side, "Don't be like that sweetheart-"

"Please stop!" you yell, shoulders jumping up ready for impact.

You feel the man stiffen next to you. And then, he starts laughing, "Oh, come on, I didn't even do anything!" he threw his hands up, the smell of alcohol getting stronger. Beer, you could now tell.

"All you women are like that! You just assume all men are pricks!" you feel his spit landing on your cheek and immediately fight the urge to recoil in disgust.

You slowly raise your trembling hand to wipe your cheek, not daring to look at the man. Too scared to. Of how close he is. Of what he could do to you. Of how even when you screamed for help, no one would come.

What is another is another grave in Gotham, but a number on a very long list.

Your actions seemed to have aggravated the man further as he began to shake in anger, "YOU FUCKING BITCH," you jump at the volume, grip tightening more, "I was," he forcibly lowered his voice, "just being nice to you! But you had to make me-"

"DONT TOUCH ME!" you scream the moment the man grabbed your arm, "LET GO OF ME!" you start pulling your arm to yourself, but his grip only tightens. Tears sting your eyes.

"LISTEN HERE YOU BITCH-" you close your eyes tightly, waiting for his next move.

This is it. This is where you die. Good God, you are going to die without having done anything with your life. You should have taken that gap year. You should have travelled more. Maybe find someone to marry and live a happy quiet life.

But no, now you'll be just a mention on tomorrows news. Maybe someone will shed a tear or two, but that's all. You'll be forgotten the moment the next big crime strikes Gotham, and this son of a bitch is gonna roam fr-

"I thought she asked you to let go?" you hear another voice with no one to belong to. You open your eyes quickly, trying to see who spoke. But no one seemed to be around.

"What?" the man lets go and turns around, slightly stumbling, "Who said that?" he asks, and you see a head appear from above you.

You hand shoots to your heart when you lock eyes with the owner of the voice, as he grins at you, holding a finger to his lips.

"I'm your conscience," he says, disappearing again as the man turns around and you're face to face with him again, "you shouldn't harass women."

"Come out, punk!" the man yells as you take more steps backwards.

"What? Are you too much of a pussy to face me like a man?" you see the mysterious voice drop behind him, getting a closer look only when he stood up straight.

Tight black costume. Blue accents. Domino mask. Nightwing, no doubt.

This was your first time ever to see one of Gotham's vigilantes in the flesh, and to be honest, you were surprised he was real. Practically, you knew he existed, he was all over the news, but it was different seeing him up close. He seemed... familiar? In a way you can't quite place...

"You insult me!" Nightwing joked as he moved behind his back undetected, without any particular difficulty, "I think dick suits me better." he says before smacking the man's neck, knocking him unconscious.

You look at him in awe, mouth hanging, eyes wide as saucers, as he turns to you, a shit eating grin on his face as if he said some great joke.

"Are you alright?" he asks you, his voice stable, although it had another layer to it, well hidden, "Did he hurt you?" he moves closer checking for any superficial injuries.

You stand there, staring at him with a blank expression.

You can still feel the blood rushing through your veins, your heartbeat distinct in your ears.

You're alive. You're still alive.

You can see the vigilante approach you slowly, his hands raised in front of him. He was saying something... What was he saying?

"Hey, it's okay..." Dick slowly approaches you, but you seem to be completely unresponsive. Probably in shock from what happened. "He's gone, you're safe." he says now in front of you.

He can hear the bus approaching, you must have been waiting for it, but you still remain still, even as the bus speeds by you both.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asks.

You hear the bus, you do. You know you should have gotten on it, but your legs are not moving. He's still talking.

You're broken out of your trance by Nightwings hand on your shoulder, you shake a bit at the gesture before you calm yourself.

He's a hero. He wouldn't do anything to you.

"I- I'm sorry, what?" you look at him, staring right in the whites of his domino mask. He looks concerned.

"Do you need a lift home?" he asks, his hand falling back to his side.

He looks at you, too. He notices the crease of your eyebrows, how you bite the inside of your cheek. Your knuckles are white, your eyes darting around checking for danger.

You're nervous, scared. Dick has never seen you like this, and he would never if you had anything to say about it.

You quickly wipe your cheeks, feeling the dry tears, "I would appreciate that, thank you." you say clearing your throat. He just nods, and starts talking to whoever it was on the other side of the intercom.

You close your eyes, sitting back on the bench, letting the cold winter air caress your face.

Today was a bad day.

Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. You got your American History test score back, which meant you wouldn't have to pair up with Grayson. They had pasta in the cafeteria. You fell asleep in the library. You were attacked. And a man in spandex is taking you home.

It was a very shitty day all in all.

Dick was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, an arm behind his head.

He's been there for what, two hours? maybe three, he didn't know anymore, he didn't care to find out.

Last nights patrol has left him in shambles, seeing you like that. Crying. Helpless.

Sure, he had seen people cry before, people who had gone through her same thing as you. People who have gone through less or more.

But you? Crying? He never hoped to see you like that.

You were always so well put together. Confident. Assertive.

He's seen you annoyed, happy, stressed. He's seen you just exist. Although he supposes yesterday you were just existing too, until that asshole decided to assault you.

It felt... sort of intimate, seeing someone so confident, fall apart.

And he hated it.

He has imagined so many things with you in mind -plans he wanted to make true if only you didn't seem to hate the ground he walked on, all the while he worshipped the one you did in secret.

But his daydreams were always happy. First kisses, first dates, and peaceful days. Wedding days and kids running around. You were always smiling in them.

He knows it's strange and probably a bit creepy to think all that when you barely wasted a glance at him. But he had come to terms with it. It wasn't like he was the only one who did it. Or like he stalked you.

Yesterday was an eye-opener. He idealised you, thought you couldn't be anything aside from what he saw, what he thought.

He was wrong.

He felt ashamed to have thought that. Ashamed to have stripped you from the right of being human, just for you to fit his delusions.

Yesterday he saw you, not all of you but more than he had before. And it left him more determined to get to know everything.

First step was to get you to be his partner at the project, and with his score he was pretty sure has got that one in the bag.

Then he'd make you fall for his charms. Also easy.

Then, he'd hope you don't actually hate him too much. That one he didn't know how to make sure of.

He sighed and closed his eyes, his brain immediately conjuring up the image of your face last night. You seemed so out of it, crying, unresponsive. You seemed to have been pulled some place he couldn't understand or reach. There's so much he didn't know.

He wonders if you are doing better tonight, but he can't check on you in any way.

Except he could.

He knew where you lived. He could drop by and check on you.

Actually, Nightwing could. That wouldn't do much to further his plans, but it'd calm the tightness in his chest.

No.

That's too much.

Maybe he should stake out at the bus stop. Or maybe he could be normal for once in his life and leave you alone.

You feel chills walking at the bus station. You know statistically it isn't very likely you'll be attacked again, but still the fear of possibility lingers.

Its much earlier this time around -you made sure to not fall asleep in the library again, and quite frankly you wouldn't do it again.

But the cold and the darkness where the same. As did the fact you the the only person waiting for the bus.

But you had bought a pepper spray, that must account for something, right?

You sit on the bench, same as you did last time, and before you know youre spacing out again. This seemed to be the norm the last few days.

After the dream.

You hate that this is the only thing you can think of, that he seems to consume your every thought, working himself into the corners of your mind.

And he doesn't even know! He's walking around clueless of just how much he has thrown you off of your game.

Maybe he knows. Maybe he went to one of those witches and had the dream incepted in your brain because he wanted to mess with you. That's it.

There's no other explanation on why you'd-

"You'll get attacked again if you keep zoning you like this." a voice breaks you out of your thoughts6 turn your head and see the very same guy that saved you the other night, "Hello." he smiles at you, and you can only think about how he must have practiced for hours in the mirror to get it just right.

"Should I be afraid you're here again?" you ask him, holding the pepper spray tighter. Hero or not, he's a man.

He comes and sits next to you, like he knew you from yesterday, making you scoot a bit to the side, "Afraid I'm stalking you?" he asks, flashing that award winning smile of his again.

"Are you?" you raise an eyebrow, looking into the whites on his mask.

"What if I am?" he shoots back, like second nature. He's so weird.

You roll your eyes at him, "Then youre doing a terrible job at it." he just chuckles, "Why are you even here?" you ask him.

Of course it was possible that it was a coincidence, and that he was patrolling the area- "I wanted to check on you." he interrupts you.

Your eyebrows shoot up in a mix of surprise and confusion, why would he want to do that?

"You seemed very distraught," he continues when you dont answer him, "It seemed like you were traumatised." he says, fighting the urge to fidget.

He couldn't do that, he was Nightwing. What kind of impression would he give if he appeared anything but confident.

But this is you we we're talking about, how can he not be nervous. Especially how its the first time, he seems to having a conversation with you without you trying to get him to leave.

You stay quiet for another moment, "So you are stalking me." he say trying to hide a smile. He's caught off guard at your words. He had never expected that answer.

"You seem much too nonchalant about that." he says smirking, any ounce of anxiety he had leaving his body.

"Why shouldn't I be?" you turn forward, not looking at him, "You seem hardly dangerous," you say, "Besides, I can take care of myself."

Dicks eyes glint at your response, "Crime alley?" he asks, jumping at the chance to learn more about you.

"East End," you muse, and he smiles at you, humming, not saying another word, and you fall into a comfortable silence before he starts talking again, about what, you can't remember.

The only thing you know is that no matter how strange, you feel content with this stranger talking your ear off.

This is the worst moment in your life. Rock bottom.

"See, this sweetheart?" Dick shoves the paper in your face, "98%" he grins at your flabbergasted expression, "I win!"

You're having war flashbacks. How could this have happened.

"Only for a point!" you exclaim annoyed at how smug he looked.

Dick seems to be a silver away from jumping around and dancing, and honestly you'd prefer that, to his smug annoying smirk.

"Deal's a deal honey bunch!" he says stuffing his test back into his bag, "So when do we start?" he asks

What sins had you committed in your past life to deserve this?

Still, you weren't gonna go back on your word, even if you agreed out of desperation to get away from him.

"Fine," you exhale and his smiles widens, "We start tomorrow," you continue opening up your bag, pulling out a pen and your post-its, "Be there at 10," you scribble down your address, Dick stood patiently, his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling, "And don't be late." you say pointedly as you hand him the paper, which he took with a smile.

"Got it!" he nods, "See you tomorrow!" he walks away.

Was that a skip in his step?

You stare at his form getting smaller and smaller, your face slowly falling.

What have you done?

Never mind that, how would you make sure you would freak out while having him in your house?

After that day, every morning, you'd meet up with Dick to work on your project.

The first few sessions, were hell for you. You were always stepping on glass even in your own home, and he seemed to be oblivious to all of it.

Then, suddenly everything was fine!

Turns out he wasn't as bad as you thought he was - when his stuff wasn't taking over the whole room anyway. Contrary to what you thought of him, he was actually putting in effort in order to achieve the marks he did, and the whole reason he seemed so chill in class, was because he crammed all the material 4 days before the final by pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. You even got to witness that in person, when you both had a test and he decided that having a study buddy was beneficial for you both, and by extension crashed on your couch until the exam was over.

That put you a bit at ease at first, that you were on equal footing. That he wasn't somehow flying through university because of his father.

Then you simply realised, you were being a bitch to him for no reason. No matter how jealous you were, you had no reason to act like you did.

And now? You somehow had become friends.

You dont know when or how it had become a staple for Dick to come over so you could eat lunch together. But you didn't mind it one bit.

As much as you'd never admit it to him -in fear you'd boost his ego even more, God knows he didn't need it - he was great company. He had this talent of never letting the conversation die, which made him very entertaining to be around.

His affinity to talk endlessly, was especially helpful to you the first few times he came over to work for the project.

You were so afraid that your stupid dream wouldn't let you get any work done, especially with him sitting across from you, but as if he knew that you were nervous, he managed to talk the entire time he was there, whether it was about the project or not. And while you found that annoying, it also made you realise that you were fretting over nothing. Because the dream was just that, a dream.

You quickly learned that Dick Grayson was never gonna be as smooth as he was in that dream. At least not the Dick you knew.

The Dick you knew, banged his head on the table when he couldn't figure something out, and he'd show you pictures of his siblings any chance he got, and he would barge into your house and gush about Superman. He would drop by at the weirdest time, just to show you a new game he got, or to tell you about a book his brother recommended.

You're pulled back to reality at the sound of your door opening, Dick appearing in the kitchen soon enough.

"You'll never guess what happened before I got here," he said and you looked at him as he rambled on about how, his little brother, Damian, got a cow as a pet and how the cow somehow ended up in the manor.

You smiled as you hummed every once, acknowledging all that he said, all the while feeling a comfortable warmth spreading through your chest.

You had fallen into a comfortable routine with him, you've gotten so used to his presence, that it seemed wrong to you, how you used to avoid him like the plague.

Then at night, Nightwing would drop by, taking a break from patrol, basically forcing you to stop studying for a while - he said it's because it is mutually beneficial, you said he's full of shit and that he should just admit to missing you, which he didn't deny.

That was another thing you had grown accustomed too.

After the second time you saw him at the bus stop, he kept appearing. "I'd be a terrible stalker if I didn't" he said when you asked him why he' basically dropping you home every chance he gets.

You didn't know how you ended up becoming friends with the vigilante, but you did, and for a guy that wears a skin tight suit and calls himself Nightwing, he was great company. Although his ego was also somewhere amongst the clouds -probably hanging out with Dicks.

You're sitting on the desk in your room, studying, when you feel your skin tingle. Someone was in your room.

You immediately grab the cup you have next to you and throw it at the intruder, only to hear the familiar low chuckle of Nightwing.

"Really sweetheart?" he raising an eyebrow as your shoulders slump in relief, "I thought you'd know better by now." he tilts his head before, moving closer to place the cup back on your desk.

You roll your eyes at him, "You could have knocked idiot." you say as he moves and lays on the floor, relief flowing in his bones. He knows better that to lie on you bed in his 'grim, dirty suit' as you made sure to point out last time he did it.

"Where's the fun in that?" he smirks as you turn around to look at him. Your exhale as you look at him, noticing the small cuts on his cheek, immediately grabbing the small bottle of iodine you stored in your room for that exact reason

"Can't win either way," you mumble as you move next to him, opening up the cap. Nightwing sits up, laying his back on the bed post as you move closer.

You work in silence staring at his face, slowly applying it on his cuts, when you notice three distinct marks on his face shaped like a triangle.

Strange.

"This is funny," you say as you softly apply iodine on the cut at the side of his face

"What is?"

"My friend has the same three moles on his cheek."

Nightwing stills at your words. Do you know? How long have you known? Is this your way of telling him you do? Are you gonna hate him for not telling you?

He's such an idiot. He shouldn't have gotten this close. Now you'll know his identity and be in constant danger.

"A lot of people have moles," he says nonchalantly, muscles tense.

"But in the same pattern?"

"It's more common that you think,"

"I'm sure it is," you mutter, focused on not missing a cut.

You both stay quiet for a while. You seemed to not have made the connection, causing Dick to relax a bit. You didn't know.

You did, however, seem to notice the moles on his face in the time he spent with you as a civilian. You even called him a friend.

He hoped you couldn't feel his pulse rising at the revelation.

"What is your friend like?" he asks before he could stop himself.

"He's nice I suppose"

"You suppose?" he turns to look at you, but you move away, sitting across from him waiting for the medicine to dry.

"He's actually perfect, it's infuriating," you continue leaning back,

"He is very social. Everybody loves him. It's because he's fun to be around. And he's doing great academically too,

"I'm kind of a terrible person to admit this, but I couldn't stand him for the longest time because I was jealous," you chuckle, thinking how stupid that was of you, missing out on Dick Grayson for something as immature as the first spot in the class,

"He seemed to be able to do anything effortlessly when I couldn't. I know now that it was stupid to dislike him for that, but it was eating me away." you stop for a minute, lost in thought.

"It was unfair too, since all he did was be nice to me even when i was acting like a bitch."

It felt strange hearing you talk about him to him, but he couldn't help but pry.

"What made you change your mind?" he asks.

"Do you know how you have this idea of what people are like in your head? And then you find out they're nothing like that?" he knows because he did have one of what you'd be like, before the incident,

"Well, I thought he was a lucky trust fund baby who just messed around in class. But then I had to work with him, and it turns out he's actually very smart. He's also insufferably nice. That part is still annoying." you smile and he felt like his heart would burst

"One time, he went to deal with my neighbour because he kept knocking on my door and then disappearing, " Dick remembers that day, you were both sitting on your couch brainstorming for the project when a knock echoed through your house. He looks at the door, expecting you to go check, but you never did. Turns out one of your neighbours keeps knocking and disappearing. You told him not to worry about it, but he was having none of that and stop by the door for another hour, catching him red-handed the next time he knocked. Safe to say he didn't bother you again.

"He's... special. I'm glad he's in my life..."

Dick hums in understanding as you lean forward again and continue working, your touch hot against his skin.

A win is a win, he thought. You don't hate him anymore, and he'll take what he can get, so he stays silent, feeling you apply ointment on his cuts.

"I actually dreamt of him once..." you say, getting up from the floor to grab the band-aids. Nightwing stills staring intensively at you.

"You did?" he asks carefully. He didn't know this...

You chuckle lightly as you plop next to him again, holding a package of colourful band aids - he thought it was charming that you still used those for kids - "Yeah", you take a pink one out and start to peel it,

"I dreamt of kissing him in the kitchen," now you had him hanging from your lips more than he ever did before, "he had come over for the project, in my dream, in actual life I hadn't even agreed to do it with him," so this was before he saved you.

You chuckle again, pressing tightly the band aid over his cut, "I couldn't function for days, it was all I could think about..." you trail off, opening another band aid. "It's stupid..."

Dick speaks before you can even think of falling deeper into your thoughts, "Doesn't sound stupid to me," he says looking at you, "You seem to be in love with the guy," he self projects as you stare at him annoyed, he loved it when you did that, "Can't blame you since he's oh so charming and smart!" he teased

"Oh, shut up" you roll your eyes, slapping lightly his abdomen, causing him to wince.

"You are so mean," he whines, holding his abdomen in mock pain.

"You love me," you joke, getting up, moving everything back to its place, his eyes following your every move, a lovestruck expression painting his face.

He did.

You don't want to say that you feel disappointed that Nightwing didn't show up tonight. You know he's busy. Plus its not like you're entitled to his time.

He's a hero for Gods shake, he doesn't have time to drop by just because you feel lonely.

You could always call Dick... But it's late and he's probably getting his beaty sleep.

You exhale, as you stand up, stretching as you move the bathroom.

You mechanically grab your toothbrush, applying a generous amount of toothpaste on it. You can hear your mothers voice in your head, telling you not to be wasteful, but your teeth don't feel clean enough, if you don't look like your foaming at the mouth by the end of brushing.

You spit out the foam, "Sorry mom," you say as you rinse the rest out.

You feel like shed be proud to see where you are. Attending university, having friends, having a stable life.

You smile as you back hits your bed, ready to doze off until the morning.

And then you hear it. A knock on the glass of your window.

Your ears immediately perk up at the sound, "Nightwing?" you call out, seeing the familiar black and blue suit, the atmosphere in the room changing.

He knocked... He never knocks...

"Hey sweet cheeks," he says, sending a smile towards your way, voice weaker than you've ever heard before. Something was very wrong...

You scan over him. He's leaning his back against the windowsill, his lips is busted coating his chin with blood. His chest is heaving up and down, like he's having trouble breathing. And his hand is draped over his abdomen, pressing on them.

And then it hits you. The distinct metallic smell of blood.

You feel your stomach turn, staring in his eyes. With a quick move you open the window wider. "Get in and take off your suit." he say as calmly as you can.

But he feels like messing around, "Damn girl, take me out to dinner, at least." he says as he slowly climbs in, immediately sitting down groaning as he did. You were having none of his bullshit today.

"Take it off." you demand again and he slowly peels off the upper part.

Your hands fly to cover your mouth at the large gush on his abdomen. The blood seems to have stopped by the pressure the suit was adding to the skin. But everything around it was covered by a mixture of dried and new blood.

You're gonna throw up.

You stand up quickly, rushing to your bathroom, "What the hell is wrong with you!" you say, grabbing the first aid kit, "Waltzing in here, bleeding out, cracking jokes!" you yell at him as you wet a towel, trying to gather your scattered thoughts.

You need alcohol. And a needle with thread. You frantically move to your kitchen, trying to gather everything before he's gone.

"It's no big deal, just a-"

"Just a scratch?" you cut him off, "Just a scratch!" you storm back into your room, eyes wide, standing over him, "Of course! Just a scratch! A small scratch that extends through your torso!" you yell at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"It's okay-" he leans forward.

"Don't tell me it's okay! Not when you're bleeding out on my carpet! Not when you have a large fucking wound that needs stiches!" you sit by him, pushing him against the wall, before dousing the wet towel with alcohol, softly cleaning the wound despite your emotional state.

You stay silent if only for a moment, trying to calm yourself, "Why did you come here?" you ask him, staring into the whites of his domino mask, after he didn't speak.

He takes a second to answer, "I wanted to see you."

You gape at him, "Are you insane?" you exclaim dapping his skin with more pressure, causing him to wince, "You wanted to see me? Tomorrow is a day too, Nightwing! What on earth made you think that it was a good idea to come here in this state?" you throw the towel to the side, grabbing the needle, "What if I didn't know how to stitch you up? What then?" you pass the thread through, dipping the whole thing in alcohol. "What then?"

Dick lowers his eyes to look at you, chuckling lightly, "You're from the East End," he muses, trying to focus his vision on you, "Of course you'd know.."

"That's no reason-"

Nightwing winces as you drench his would with alcohol again, "It's not a big deal-" he begins to say, cutting you off, but you interrupt him.

"Not a big deal?" you say slowly now, a single tear falling from your eye, eyes trembling as you force the needle to pierce through his skin, "You are hurt! What if you bleed out in front of me and I can't help you?" you say, allowing more tears to break free. Dick could feel his heart breaking.

"What if you died?" you said slowly, trying to steady your hand, doing your best to keep that from happening.

"But I'm not-" he goes to lean closer to you again.

"You could!", you push him back, not daring to look up, focusing on your handiwork, tears falling like waterfalls, blurring your vision.

You just need to focus, a couple more to go. Just to keep him alive, until he can call someone to get him to an actual doctor. They dont have to be perfect. They just need to keep him here with you.

He doesn't dare break the silence, letting you do your work, regretting the moment he decided to come here.

He doesn't even know how he did, much less why.

He remembers fighting, and then the pain bleeding throughout his body. Next thing he knew, he was outside your house, holding his abdomen, trying to walk in a straight.

You sit back when youre done, staring at the badly patched up wound, ears ringing.

"I know I can be mean and-" you break the silence, voice low and hoarse, "and that I am a total bitch, and I know i dont say it often, but I care!" you exclaim, "I care so much and I- I don't wanna lose you..." you say softly, "You're my first friend here, and- and-" Dick watches you as sobs wreck your whole body, his hands instinctively move towards you, wanting to provide any semblance of comfort, even when pain radiates at every movement.

"It's okay," he says, pulling you against him despite the pain, "I'm okay, I'm here." he brushes his fingers through your hair, letting you get it all out, "I'm not dying."

"But you could be..." you say, pulling away, looking at him, "If not today, then tomorrow... I can’t do this again! I can’t watch you come in here hurt, pretending it’s all okay. I can’t-" you trail off, turning your gaze away from him.

But he doesn't, he looks at you, as he always did. He doesn't think he was able to see until he met you the first day of university, even if you shoot his suggestion of hanging out down. It was like the world was filled with all kinds of colours he didn't even know existed. He wanted to see more, he wanted to watch you forever.

Even like this, even if you're crying in his arms, even if it is his fault.

You take a deep breath, opening your mouth to speak again, but don't get a chance. His hand flies on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, slotting his lips against yours, before you get the chance to react.

You freeze at this, not leaning in, not backing out. Just sitting there frozen, brain short circuiting.

His kiss is soft. Slow, as if he's scared, you'll run away. But you don't. You lean into it, accepting whatever he was willing to give to you.

His lips are chapped against yours, but you don't mind because that is so entirely him.

You feel the tension in him, the hesitancy, the unspoken emotions swirling between you. His kiss deepens slightly, but it’s still gentle, tender-like he’s testing the waters, unsure if you’ll pull away or welcome him in.

And just like with everything else about him, you welcome this change of pace, wanting nothing more than to feel him close. Alive.

You slowly move your hand to rest over his heart, and he immediately covers it with his own, pressing it firmer on his chest, letting you feel the heartbeat against your skin.

He's here. He's alive.

After a moment, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. You can see the determination on his face.

"I can't promise," he says slowly, afraid he'll scare you away, "I can't promise you that I'll won't get hurt, that I won't be reckless..." you feel your heart tighten at his words, tears welling up again, "But I can promise to always come back..." he stares into your eyes, "You won't lose me."

Sobs break out of you once again as you throw yourself around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, his own arms snaking around your waist.

And you stay there, entangled in one another, even after you stop crying.

He keeps holding you close, afraid you'll disappear if he doesn't. Afraid that this is just a dream, he'll soon wake up from.

He holds you close until he feels your breath lower and your body giving away to exhaustion.

And even then, he doesn't leave. He sits by you for another hour before Bruce calls to check on him.

He knows he has to leave, to get his wound checked out.

But all that seemed insignificant when he held you.

okay! this was supposed to be waaaay longer but tumblr wouldn't let me add more dividers😭😭

I hope you'll enjoy it! :)))

#batfam #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #richard grayson x you

367 notes · View notes

fafodill · 2 months ago

Text

The exact wording of the ask I got was: 'what if someone was asking deprived!Snape (read my whole essay about him) to "break them off a piece of that KitKat bar?" How would they go about it?'

So today we're going to discuss this. Buckle up people.✨

SO his reaction will largely depend on the context and their current relationship but one thing that will happen FOR SURE every time before anything else is that he's going to think they're messing with him.

What else could it be? This man had been so heavily bullied as a teen his self-esteem is buried and has its own tombstone.

"Here lies Snape's self-image. Spit to pay your respect."

We don't have any canon proof of it happening but many people headcanon that some of the bullying might have been people being dared to come up to him and fake attraction or compliment him (so funny omg) only for him to realize they were just messing with him. It's totally the kind of immature stupid shit kids will come up with (speaking from personal experience here). Not funny but deeply scarring for one's self-image. So being told he's attractive would trigger him in his adult life. Any potential suitor asking him out would be welcomed with him immediately closing up and getting angry at them. They'd need to find a way for him to believe them first.

If you're thinking "this already sounds like a pain", yes it is. Welcome to deprived!Snape. Welcome to Snape, basically. If they want a piece of him, they have to brace themselves for the long run.

He will get angry and leave a lot. Fleeing the situation - since it's a very vulnerable subject for him - will be his go-to move. The whole ordeal will require patience. So what should this person do?

Friend or Stranger?

If it comes from a DE he'll think it's an angle. If it's from a member of the Order, he'll think it's a joke. If it's from a colleague at Hogwarts, he maaaay be a tad less suspicious? In any case, it will depend on how close they are. The more time they have spent together, the closer he'll be to not flip out... too much.

I'm a bit torn about his reaction if it was coming from a stranger. Either it's easier because he can lean into the idea that maybe they're lying about their attraction and he doesn't care (and if he's horny then why the fuck not, it won't affect him as much since they both now they're here for physical release) OR he might not be into it at all because he actually needs a real connection (and I think this is more realistic). Severus is a feral cat, he needs time to trust people.

What else? He could also maybe open up faster with someone not from his usual inner circles (a foreigner or a muggle) as the interactions wouldn't be charged with the same deep-rooted habits and expectations.

I also believe he'd unconsciously feel way more at ease with someone coming from a modest background. A pureblood aristocrat hitting on him would have little chance of getting past his natural distrust of them (unless he knows them very well).

So what should they do?

Build trust

The quality of their interactions and conversations will have a huge impact. Do they have an interesting personality? He needs someone capable of taking him on and keeping up intellectually. Can they keep up with him and challenge him?

Severus has a temper. Can they deal with his bullshit and not give up on him at the first scowl? Argue with him? It doesn't mean they can't be nice, but I don't see him get worked up over someone cowering under his gaze.

They need to be stubborn. He's a Capricorn and he's got the horns. He's hard-headed. They need to not back down when he bites or dismisses their attempts at flirting. One of Severus's classic tactic is to hurt people so they leave him alone, so they need to be able to dodge the attack, make fun of him or retaliate.

If they manage to deal with his temper, they will start to see what's on the other side of the snarky exterior. Then, they'll be able to start kneading the dough (Severus is the dough).

Convince him the attraction is real

That person could go the gentle/honest way, assuring him they're not kidding and explaining what they find attractive about him (he'd be super wary and need days to digest it - if he can). Genuine compliments could work quite well as he's good at reading people but it would be a process and it shouldn't be too much at once. He's NOT USED to compliments so if the person goes too hard, he's going to get overwhelmed, distance himself and reject it. A good trick would be to compliment his intelligence and magical skills alongside physical traits. A 2/3-1/3 ratio would be a good start. He would trust compliments about his big brain way more than anything regarding his cute butt.

Complimenting his presence, aura, voice might be good too as it's not directly related to physical traits. Else, physical starters could include hands and eyes. But I also love the idea of taking him by surprise and complimenting his nose. Might weird him out in a good way.

Or they could go the blunt way (or what I now refer to in my mind as the @maxdibert way) and be like "dude, I really think you're hot, deal with it" and leave him to sort his feelings out like a big boy.

The two strategies can be mixed of course. But at the end of the day, the real problem is that Severus as approximately a thousand confirmation bias in his mind telling him this is not happening. So what could they do to help ease this process?

Make him horny

Less overthinking = more chances to get this piece of ass.

Severus Snape needs to be warmed up. And as stated in my previous essay, he's plagued with the core beliefs that he's ugly, ridicule and undeserving. These beliefs need to be kneaded and challenged enough (not healed, this would take decades and it's not their job), so that he can relax and open up to the idea of intimacy.

Here are a few strategies to do so.

First, de-dramatize the subject. Making the topic less taboo by talking about it in a lighthearted way (no flaunting! certainly not!). A good move would be to joke about it. Deprived!Snape isn't comfortable with the subject but it's because it's evaded him and then he convinced himself he wasn't concerned or interested.

-> Here are some of the things he could benefit from hearing: that sex is not a big deal at all and we can laugh about it. It should be fun, a shared moment, trials and errors are part of it and there should no be judgment about experiences and preferences. People with a high 'body count' aren't necessarily good lovers, it's all about presence and intent etc.

His potential partner could share funny mishaps that happened to them and - when there's an opening - ask him what he would expect from a pleasant intimate moment (that's a very advanced move, don't forget he's bad with words)(it would only work in my opinion if they're both drunk and have been going at it for a while).

Also sharing experiences is a great way to build trust and intimacy (and arousal). He thrives on knowledge so learning more about his potential partner might ease his mind in some way (and give him some free intrusive thoughts). See it as added ingredients to make him simmer.

Though they shouldn't talk too much about the number of partners they had and said partner's skills. This might make him retreat. Again: low self-esteem and always on the lookout for an excuse to sabotage it.

Wait what about drunk!Snape you say? That's a trope we enjoy around here. Although I headcanon him as not being a heavy drinker (if a drinker at all because of his father) it would be a great way to lower a bit his inhibition. A DE would have a hard time sharing a drink with him, same for an Order member (he never stays after meetings but could be coerced), but a colleague could maybe drag him to the Three Broomsticks with other members of the staff and then leave early with him. wink wink Come on, rub his foot under the table and look at him choke on his ale. He'll skin you alive with his eyes and you can just raise a suggestive eyebrow back.

Persistence, persistence.

Of course a bit of physical baiting could help with his dusty libido. After all, they'd kinda be dealing with an teenager, experience-wise. Nothing too bold (though I headcanon that his sooty Cokeworth self would get way more worked up over unabashed desire than delicate courting but he's buried a bit too deep at the moment) but a nice cleavage, some leg showing, a fitting pair of pants or robes might not be a bad move. Since he might be uncomfortable with words, they could flaunt the goods in his face! The man has eyes, let him look and scold himself for looking. Also a few heavy looks, biting a lip and lingering fingers could go a long way for such a deprived man, especially if it's directed at him.

At the end of the day, the trick is to make him able to put his worry aside (or snap, if you find the word sexier).

They could go the provocative way, being insufferable and making him want to shut them up.

They could try some endless teasing until he's a lost hot mess, unable to express what he wants except by going 'fuck it' and going for it.

They could go slower and create a safe space with a weekly ritual (every Friday night meeting for a drink/to grade essays/to hang out) which can lead to a late night snog (floating candles optional).

They could be blunt and go 'I want to kiss you so bad right now' as they leave Hogsmeade together and are walking on the dirt path towards the castle. A gust of wind will prevent him from hiding himself behind his hair and they'll see the flush creeping on his face.

They could hammer the compliments and validation, because Severus craves recognition (is there a praise kink in there? yes). So first it could be his mind, his work, his skills... then the way his cape suits his frame so well, his silky voice... and then bam, hitting the nail on the head with complimenting his mouth. Blabbering mess guaranteed. Might flee but blush deliciously. Or might stop dead in his track and then it's time for them to claim these lips.

Kissing

Clumsy. Tentative. Awkward.

But earnest.

He might freeze at first. Wait, these lips knew how to do that once upon a time... how does it go again? He'll need a bit of time to remember but the best way to (re)learn is practice.

It will be a lot for him. As he's extremely touch-deprived he'd be literally rediscovering human contact. So much to feel, the supple of the lips, their shape, the softness, the wetness.

Honestly, deprived!Snape could get really worked up just from kissing.

(They could honestly make him cum just from this and some grinding. Amen. If he does he'd need reassurance after and still might flee and hide and snarl for a few days because male performance blahblahblah. Hopefully they'd be able to skip this step at this point in the relation.)

But I believe he'd enjoy it greatly and this might be a step he'd want to stay at for some time before going further.

Undressing

I headcanon deprived!Snape as being very self-conscious about revealing his body so it might only be possible with someone he really trusts. It might be painfully difficult for him (might require dimmed light if not obscurity but I mean come on, they're here to look at him and it'd be better for him to rip the bandaid... but giving him the option might help).

Either he'll be too aroused to care (or act as if he doesn't) or he'll feel very self-conscious and look for cues to confirm his belief that his partner will find him disgusting. It's the right moment for them to express their desire.

If for some reason he gets too triggered and leave, they wouldn't be back to square one but again, patience is key. He needs time. Or maybe they could convince him to stay and try to resolve the situation by stopping the intimacy and just talk about something else. It could be good practice to show him this isn't a big deal and that everything is fine.

But at this stage, complimenting him sincerely (no coddling) whilst not hiding their arousal could work nicely. Sprinkling some of the fantasies they had about him as well. ('I've been dreaming about these hands on me', 'You have no idea how much I've been wanting to kiss these lips to make you shut up', 'I laid awake at night thinking about touching this part of you'). Showing appreciation with touch could convince him more though and it has the advantage of preventing him to think too much.

But really, he won't like to focus on his appearance as it's something he has no control over so they should -unfortunately- bite their tongue and keep the flood of horny compliments to themselves at first. A new one might be fed to him once every two weeks to slowly build his confidence.

In Bed

Deprived!Snape is: prideful, yearning for control and very sensitive.

Now honestly I could make a whole other post with the different scenarios where he'd be more top or bottom. Instead, I will focus more on what would happen either way.

He'll want to learn. Because Severus is nothing if not a scholar. He's got a very curious nature regarding topics that interest him so if his partner is showing him how they like something, he'll get super serious about it. He will try to touch them in the exact same way at first and he's a fast learner so once it's mastered, he'll experiment. And he's going to be good at it.

That man got dexterity and an inventive mind. And that's canon.

But his focus on his partner might also be a way to keep control during this highly new situation. Depending on how self-conscious he is about his inexperience, shifting the focus on him might be a challenge. Maybe letting him take the lead could be a good idea. But maybe shoving him against the mattress and seizing control is the way to go here.

Now, he will be very sensitive, won't he?

Yes, he might. He might be a whimpering mess in no time. His partner should be cautious and gentle with him. Severus letting his guard down and letting them touch him is a very big effort coming from him so they should savor it and be sure to make it feel safe if they want this to happen again. Help him relax, let him breathe, don't hesitate to pause if he gets nervous. The walls will be destroyed, moan after moan.

But what if he isn't sensitive?

That's a possibility as well. He's been by himself for years and his wariness of intimacy and people is wired in his cells at this point. He's disconnected from his own body and never pays attention to it. He might also tense heavily once in bed with his partner, the vulnerability of it accentuating the disconnection. He might not feel pleasure, might get frustrated and feel angry or inadequate.

This situation - which I find very interesting and seems like a realistic follow-up to him wanting to kiss for a long time and struggling with undressing - is tricky and will require diplomacy and more patience.

But maybe this could be a dealbreaker for him. If the payoff isn't worth the discomfort, he could easily take it as a confirmation bias that intimacy isn't for the likes of him. The best course of action could be to focus on non-sexual aspect of intimacy.

But this essay is way too long already so I'm going to stop here.

What should I write about next? Is there something you wish I had addressed here? Is there something you'd like me to discuss next?

UPDATE: so a few people seem to be mad at me, demanding I keep on elaborating SO. Let's say I'm done here for the 'how to bed him' part (which was the premise of this essay) and I'll do another one following thoughts and possibly... focusing on the different roles in bed (top/bottom/switch) for our dear Severus. See you there.

TLDR: He's gonna be a pain, his partner needs to have calming draught for their nerves but in the end it will be very rewarding because he's starved and inventive.

338 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 4 months ago

Text

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 2/2

hellooooo ~ and here we are. thank you to all those who waited and loved the first part. tight hugs to all of you! may we all find love like this irl🤍

tbh the longest story I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. i hope you enjoy it🤍for part 1, click here

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The days that followed were… different.

Not in a dramatic, world-altering way, but in small, quiet shifts that felt almost imperceptible if you weren’t paying attention.

For one, Seungcheol didn’t push. He didn’t bombard you with texts, didn’t corner you into a conversation you weren’t ready for. He gave you space but remained present in the ways that mattered. And somehow, it was worse than outright confrontation.

Because this wasn’t the Seungcheol you’d prepared yourself for. This wasn’t the pushy, arrogant, untouchable man people whispered about.

This was someone who was willing to wait.

Of course it was Jeonghan who finally called you out on it.

“You’re sulking,” he said flatly one night, stretched out on your couch with a bowl of popcorn. “And don’t say you’re not because I’ve known you too long for that lie to work.”

You glared at him from your spot on the floor, cross-legged and stubborn. “I’m not sulking.”

Jeonghan popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Right. And I’m a morning person.”

There was a beat of silence before Jeonghan sighed and sat up properly, setting his bowl aside. “Okay, let’s try this another way. Why are you still running?”

You scowled. “I’m not—”

He shot you a look. “Don’t lie to me.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling cornered. “I’m not running. I just…” You exhaled sharply, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know how to trust this.”

Jeonghan softened slightly. “Trust what?”

“That it’s real.”

He studied you for a long moment before speaking again. “I get it,” he said, and somehow, that was worse than him arguing. “After everything, I get why it’s hard to believe someone when they say they won’t leave.”

“But, you know,” he continued, “there’s a difference between being careful and shutting people out completely.”

You scoffed. “This coming from you?”

Jeonghan smirked. “What can I say? I’m evolving.”

"Okay Charizard" you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. After a pause, Jeonghan’s voice turned quieter. “He’s not your past, you know.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly tight. “I know.”

“Do you?” You didn’t answer.

The days that followed you found yourself stuck in a loop of indecision.

You weren’t actively avoiding Seungcheol anymore, you told yourself it was because you were busy—work had picked up, your schedule was packed, and frankly, you weren’t in the mood to deal with whatever emotional battlefield is going on inside your head.

But Jeonghan’s words had burrowed deep. "He’s not your past."

It should have been easy to accept. Seungcheol wasn’t them. He hadn’t walked away, hadn’t dismissed your feelings, hadn’t made you feel like you were too much or not enough at the same time.

Still, knowing that and believing it were two different things. You're aware that the only person making it complicated at this point is, because for him, liking you is as easy as 1 2 3.

One random day he texted,

Seungcheol: Are you free Friday? Seungcheol: If you’re not, it’s okay.

You stared at the messages longer than necessary, fingers hovering over the keyboard. And then, before you could think too hard about it—before you could talk yourself out of it—you typed out a reply.

You: where are we going?

Friday night, you found yourself standing outside a tiny, quiet restaurant tucked into a side street, arms crossed as you waited.

You weren’t sure what to expect. The last time you’d properly talked, you’d been pushing him away. Now, he was here again, proving that no matter how much distance you tried to put between you, he wasn’t going to let you disappear so easily.

“Nice choice,” he said, glancing at the restaurant. “You trying to make sure I can’t impress you with an expensive dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t impress me in general.”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

You turned toward the entrance, pretending you weren’t affected by how effortlessly charming he was. “Come on.”

Dinner started off… civil. You talked about safe topics—work, Jeonghan’s latest antics, Mingyu’s questionable life choices. It was easy, familiar, almost like nothing had happened between you.

But of course, that was never going to last.

“You’re still shutting me out,” Seungcheol said suddenly, mid-conversation.

You froze, fingers tightening around your glass. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he countered. “You’ve been doing it since the beginning.” Seungcheol leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression that made you want to both slap and kiss him. “What are you so scared of?”

You scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? You keep saying you don’t care, but you do. And it’s killing you trying to pretend otherwise.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “If I do, will you leave?”

Seungcheol’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just a simple, steady refusal.

You hated how much that made your chest ache. And just like that, the walls you had built so carefully started to crack.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temple. “I’m being difficult.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know.”

You glared at him. “You’re supposed to argue.”

“Why? You already know it’s true. Atleast now you can admit it”

You clicked your tongue, looking away. The restaurant was cozy, dimly lit, a quiet contrast to the storm brewing inside your head. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Because I want to be.”

You scoffed. “Yeah? Even when I keep pushing you away?”

“Yes.”

You stared at him, waiting for the usual signs of frustration, the ones you were so used to seeing from people when you made things difficult. But there was nothing. No irritation, no exasperation. Just Seungcheol, calm and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

After dinner Seungcheol walked beside you, hands tucked in his coat pockets, the cool night air making his breath visible in the dim streetlights. it was quiet. Comfortable.

Then, out of nowhere, he smirked and nudged you lightly with his elbow. "What happened to the girl who walked up to me at the bar all confident?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "What about her?"

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just wondering where she went. Thought she had me all figured out that night."

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well… turns out, I bit off more than I could chew."

Seungcheol chuckled at that, glancing at you with something unreadable in his eyes. "Regretting it?"

You hesitated for half a second. "No." It was quiet again for a few beats, your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

Then, softer this time, he asked, "So what now?"

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked up at the sky, at the way the city lights drowned out the stars.

"Good question," you muttered.

Seungcheol stopped walking, causing you to take a few more steps before realizing and turning back to face him. His hands were still in his pockets, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were locked onto yours, steady and unwavering.

"You keep running from me," he said, voice quieter now, but firm. "You keep pushing me away, shutting me out, making me prove myself over and over again. And I’ll keep doing it if that’s what it takes."

"I know you're scared," he continued. "I know you think this is going to end the way it always does. But I’m not them. I’m not going to leave just because things get complicated. I’m not going to get tired of you just because you have bad days. And I’m sure as hell not going to stop wanting you just because you're difficult."

Your throat felt tight. You hated how much those words affected you. How much you needed to hear them.

"You don’t have to let me in all at once," he said. "But stop pretending you don’t care when you do. Stop acting like this doesn't mean something to you when it does."

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him despite the chilly air. "You can tell me, let me know if I’m waiting for nothing. Then I'll go"

Your heart was pounding now, an erratic rhythm you couldn't control.

"You’re not," you admitted quietly.

Something flickered in his eyes, relief mixed with something deeper, something warmer.

"Good," he murmured.

At first, it was small things.

A text here and there—nothing too much, nothing that would make you feel like you were giving in too quickly. You didn’t realize when it started shifting, when you stopped bracing for him to leave and started expecting him to stay.

One night, it was you who called first.

"You busy?" you asked, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the line. "No. Missing me already?"

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see. "Forget it."

"Wait, wait," he said, laughter still in his voice. "Tell me."

You hesitated. "I just... felt like calling"

You didn't need to say it, he knew what it meant in your dictionary or atleast from what he learned so far. You wanted to talk, you're reaching out to him first and that made him smile.

There was a brief pause, then, "Stay where you are. I’m coming over."

And just like that, it became normal.

Some nights, he’d show up with takeout, and the two of you would eat in comfortable silence. Other times, you'd find yourself leaning into him when he sat next to you, your head against his shoulder without thinking. He never commented on it, never teased. He just let you.

One afternoon, after a long day, you called him again.

"Are you home?"

"Yeah," he said immediately. "You okay?"

"I don't know."

He was quiet for a moment. "Come over."

It wasn’t some grand confession, wasn’t some dramatic shift. It was just that—getting used to him. Letting yourself reach for him the way he had always reached for you. The moment Seungcheol opened the door, he took one look at you and sighed.

“You look like hell.” he says when you got to his apartment, holding the door open for you

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, brushing past him

He didn’t argue, just closed the door behind you and followed you inside. His place was warm, dimly lit, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stood there for a second, suddenly unsure why you even came.

“Did you eat?” he asked, already heading toward the kitchen

You shook your head.

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered, grabbing something from the fridge. You heard him moving around, the quiet clink of plates and the sound of water running.

You sat on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. The weight of the week settled on you, exhaustion creeping in, but you fought it. Seungcheol came back minutes later, setting a plate of food and a glass of water in front of you.

“Eat first,” he said, sitting beside you.

You frowned. “I didn’t come here for food.”

“No, but you need it,” he countered. “And you need sleep, too. Don’t try to deny it.”

You glared at him, but it was weak. You were too tired to argue. “You really think I came here just to crash on your couch?”

“No,” he said, watching you carefully. “I think you came here because you didn’t want to be alone.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass of water. He wasn’t wrong.

When you were done, he took the plate without a word, disappearing into the kitchen. You let yourself sink deeper into the couch, your eyelids growing heavier. By the time he came back, you were barely awake, your body losing the fight against exhaustion.

“Told you,” he murmured, sitting next to you again.

You mumbled something incoherent, your head tilting to the side—against him. You didn’t mean to. But you were too tired to move, too tired to think. And he was warm, solid, steady.

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly so you were more comfortable. And for the first time in days, you finally felt like you could rest.

Seungcheol didn’t move for a while. He just sat there, watching as your breathing evened out, your face finally softening from the tension you’d been carrying all week.

You came to him.

Not to fight. Not to push him away.

You came to him because you were tired, because you didn’t want to be alone, because—even if you wouldn’t say it out loud—you trusted him enough to just… be here.

That meant something.

His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out, to brush the hair out of your face, but he held himself back. You were already asleep, and he wasn’t about to wake you up now.

Instead, he just sighed, shifting slightly so you were more comfortable against him.

“Stubborn as hell,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to it.

If someone had told him back then, on the night you first met, that the confident, sharp-tongued person who strutted up to him in a bar would be the same one sleeping against his shoulder now, he would’ve laughed.

But here you were.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to fight to keep you close.

You were slipping. your head tilting lower, the weight of exhaustion making you lean into him without a second thought. Before you could slip too far, he moved, instinct guiding him as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in until your head rested against his chest.

And you didn’t even stir. Didn’t tense up. Didn’t fight it. Just stayed there, completely at ease against him. He let out a slow breath, his hand resting lightly against your back, fingers twitching slightly like he wasn’t sure if he should move or not.

This was new.

You letting him hold you. Trusting him enough to fall asleep on him.

Seungcheol leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before glancing down at you again.

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth.

The second thing is the steady rise and fall beneath your cheek. Your eyes snap open, and the moment you realize you’re still on Seungcheol, still curled into his side, your entire body goes rigid.

“Oh my god—” You practically throw yourself off of him, scrambling upright so fast that you almost trip over your own feet.

Seungcheol groans, his hand moving to his neck, rolling it slightly like he’s trying to work out a knot. “Good morning to you too.”

“I—” Your heart is racing. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t—”

He watches you, amused, as you struggle for words, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Didn’t mean to what? Fall asleep?”

You stare at him, still half in shock, like you’re just now registering that you slept on him all night.

“Exactly! I didn’t mean to do that!” Your voice is slightly panicked. “I just—oh my god, I used you as a pillow.”

Seungcheol stretches, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “I noticed.”

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m so sorry. You probably have a neck cramp—”

“Oh, I definitely do.” He cracks his neck for emphasis.

You wince. “Ugh, I’m really, really sorry.”

He just looks at you, amusement laced in his voice as he leans back against the couch. “You gonna keep apologizing all morning?”

“Maybe.”

A few days later when you were out getting food, Jeonghan texted he was dropping by. When you return to your apartment, takeout bags in hand, you expected Jeonghan to be there waiting. What you didn't expect was Seungcheol sitting across from him.

The tension in the air is palpable, and Jeonghan looks far too smug for your liking, while Seungcheol looks—annoyed? Amused? It’s hard to tell.

You blink at them. “Uh… what is happening?”

Jeonghan leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “Your boyfriend came to visit.”

You scowl. “He’s not my— Never mind. Why are you here, Cheol?”

Seungcheol stands, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to see you.”

Before you can respond, Jeonghan cuts in. “He was just telling me about the night you fell asleep at his place.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh my god.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Did you know he was shocked that you actually slept well?”

Your eyes snap to Seungcheol, who is watching you carefully. “You—” You pause, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was a big deal.” Jeonghan hums. “Because she usually doesn’t sleep well.” He looks at you.

“You never told me you had it that bad.” Seungcheol is still looking at you, his gaze softer now.

You roll your shoulders, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that bad.”

He sighs, stepping closer. “He said you only get four hours of interrupted sleep, if that.”

You groan. “Can you both stop?”

But Jeonghan is looking at Seungcheol with something like understanding now. “And yet, she slept well with you?”

Seungcheol nods. “Didn’t even wake up once.”

Jeonghan lets out a low chuckle. “Damn.” He glances at you. “Looks like you’re screwed.”

You glare. “How?”

Jeonghan gestures lazily between you and Seungcheol. “Because you like him. And your subconscious trusts him.” He grins. “And knowing Cheol? He’s not letting that go.”

You groan again, pressing your forehead against the door. “I should’ve stayed outside.”

Seungcheol chuckles, stepping even closer, voice softer now. ��I don’t mind.”

You peek at him, hesitant. “Don’t mind what?”

He shrugs. “Being the person you can actually rest with.”

And that—that’s the moment you realize you’re in deeper than you ever planned to be. You don’t say anything for a moment, just stare at Seungcheol, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Then you turn sharply to Jeonghan, who is looking way too pleased with himself.

"Get out."

Jeonghan snorts. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You point to the door. "Get. Out."

Jeonghan laughs, standing up. "Wow. I help you realize your feelings, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You’re not helping."

"Sure I am," he says, already grabbing his things and the take out bag. He turns to Seungcheol with an exaggerated pat on his shoulder. "Take care of our girl, yeah?"

Seungcheol smirks. "I plan to."

You shove Jeonghan toward the door. "Out!"

He barely dodges your foot as you fake a kick at him. "Alright, alright, I’m going! No need to get violent." He winks. "You two have fun." You slam the door in his face, exhaling hard before turning back to Seungcheol, who is now watching you with his usual unreadable expression.

"Sorry about him," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

Seungcheol just shrugs. "I don’t mind." Of course, he doesn’t.

You cross your arms, still feeling the remnants of irritation from Jeonghan’s meddling. “So? Why’d you drop by?”

Seungcheol leans back against your couch like he has all the time in the world. “You weren’t answering my texts.”

You blink. “That’s it?”

His lips twitch slightly, like he’s amused. “You usually text back, even if it’s just to tell me to go away.”

You look away, suddenly feeling warm. “I was busy. And you didn’t just come all the way here because of a few missed texts, Seungcheol.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I did.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have a company to run. You don’t have time for things like this.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t think you’re worth my time?”

You freeze. That wasn’t what you meant, but now, hearing it like that… You shift awkwardly. “That’s not—”

“Because you are,” he says, completely serious now. “And I don’t mind making time for you.”

Your throat feels suddenly tight, so you break eye contact, looking anywhere but at him. “…You’re annoying.”

He chuckles. “You say that a lot.”

You huff, turning toward the kitchen. “Whatever. I’m getting something to drink.”

As you walk away, you don’t see his smile soften, but you do hear him say, “I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

As you set down a cup of coffee in front of him, Seungcheol watches you closely. His voice, quieter now, carries none of the teasing from earlier.

“Is it true?”

“What?”

He tilts his head, studying you. “What Jeonghan said. That you don’t sleep well.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around your own cup. You shouldn’t be surprised—of course Jeonghan would tell him. But something about hearing it from Seungcheol, hearing him ask so gently, makes your stomach twist.

You exhale, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You sigh, setting your cup down. “It’s true. I’ve had trouble sleeping for a long time. Four hours on a good night, but it’s usually not restful.” You try to sound casual, but admitting it out loud feels weirdly vulnerable.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightens, like he’s holding something back. “And the other night? When you fell asleep on me?”

You hesitate, then force yourself to shrug. “I guess I was just really tired.”

He hums, swirling his coffee absently. “Or maybe you finally felt safe enough to sleep properly.”

His words make you freeze. Seungcheol watches you carefully, then speaks again, even softer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoff lightly, trying to cover the sudden, unsteady feeling creeping in. “It’s not exactly first-date conversation.”

He smirks, but there’s no real amusement in it. “We skipped that part anyway.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let it go. “I mean it,” he says. “If it’s something you struggle with… I want to know. I want to help.” Your heart clenches. You’re not used to this—someone caring this much.

You exhale, looking away. “It’s just how it’s always been. I got used to it.”

Seungcheol watches you for a moment, then leans back, stretching an arm along the back of your couch. “That doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.” A strange warmth settles in your chest. You don’t respond right away, but for the first time in a long time, you think maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to.

Seungcheol is naturally thoughtful, in his own way. The way he takes up space in your life has always been subtle yet persistent. But then, you start noticing more.

It’s little things at first. A new set of blackout curtains showing up at your place with a casual, “Figured they might help,” when he drops by. A bottle of melatonin on your kitchen counter that wasn’t there before, though he never mentions it. One night, when you’re at his place, you find a weighted blanket neatly folded at the end of his couch. You give him a suspicious look, but he just shrugs. “Jeonghan said it helps,” is all he says.

And then there are the nights.

You don’t even realize it at first, but he starts staying later. It’s not obvious—he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Some nights, when you’re curled up on his couch, watching some random movie, you doze off without meaning to and he doesn’t wake you up.

It only clicks when, one night, you stir awake just enough to register the warmth at your side, the solid presence of Seungcheol beside you. His arm is draped loosely over the back of the couch, but his fingers are grazing your shoulder lightly, like he’s debating moving you or just staying still.

Then, carefully you feel him shift just enough to pull a blanket over you. His fingers brush against your arm for a second before he stills completely.

The next morning, when you wake up in your own bed, you realize—he must’ve carried you there before leaving. For the first time in a long time, you’re sleeping better. And you know it’s because of him.

Another night, something unexpected happened. Your fingers are barely grasping the hem of his shirt, like even in your half-asleep state, you don’t want to let go.

He looks down at you—your face relaxed in sleep, your breathing even. It’s rare to see you like this, vulnerable and unguarded. He knows how much you struggle to sleep, how restless your nights usually are. And yet, tonight, you’re not just asleep—you’re at peace.

And you want him to stay.

He swallows, hesitating. His instinct is to leave, to give you space, to not push. But then, your grip tightens just slightly.

“Stay,” you murmur, voice barely audible.

His chest tightens.

He exhales softly before finally relenting. He carefully shifts, settling back onto the couch beside you. You naturally gravitate toward him, your head resting against his shoulder. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t want to break the moment.

Minutes pass, and then, without thinking, he reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulls it over the both of you.

You sigh, a content little sound that makes his heart clench.

Seungcheol stares at the ceiling for a long time, completely still. He was supposed to leave. But instead, he stays.

The morning light filters softly through your curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. You blink groggily, your body warm and comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re in your room now, that’s when you notice him.

Seungcheol is still asleep beside you. For a moment, you just stare. His breathing is slow and steady, his face completely relaxed. The sight is… nice. Too nice.

The second he sees you awake, his lips curl into a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep.

Then, before you can stop yourself, you mumble, “I like your dimples.”

It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but he hears it. Seungcheol’s smile widens, and just like that, his dimples deepen. You immediately bury your face into the pillow, realizing what you just said.

He chuckles, his voice still husky. “You like my dimples?”

You groan. “Forget it.”

“Nope,” he says, his amusement clear. “Too late. You said it.”

You peek at him from the pillow, your cheeks warm. He’s still smiling, still looking at you with that soft, fond expression. It makes your heart stutter.

You don’t talk about that night—not really—but you feel it lingering in the air, in the way he looks at you a second too long, in the way your body leans just a little closer to his without thinking.

He still checks in on you, still sends those random texts that somehow always come right when you need them. He still helps you sleep—whether it’s subtle things like sending you links to calming music or, on the nights you really struggle, staying until you doze off.

And then there’s you.

You find yourself texting him first sometimes. You don’t push him away when he’s close. You even catch yourself looking at him a little too long, memorizing the curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, the way he somehow always smells really, really nice.

You don’t know when it happened, when he became someone you reach for instead of push away but it’s happening.

It’s a slow, quiet weekend. The kind where you don’t feel like doing much, so instead of going out, you’re at his place.

Seungcheol is on the couch, arm draped lazily along the backrest while you sit beside him, legs tucked under you. Your mind drifts, thinking about something, debating whether or not to ask.

You hesitate. You open your mouth, then close it. And of course, he catches it.

“What?” he asks, turning his head slightly toward you.

“Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head.

But Seungcheol isn’t the type to let things go so easily. His hand finds your waist, tugging you just a little closer. “No, come on. What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even thinking about it. “It’s stupid.”

He scoffs. “You do realize I put up with your so-called ‘stupidity’ on a daily basis, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Great way to convince me to talk, Cheol.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist lightly in encouragement. “Okay, okay. I’m serious. What is it?”

You hesitate again, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “I just… I wanted to know your favorites.”

“My favorites?”

“Yeah. Like… your favorite color, favorite food, drink—just… everything.” You shift, feeling a little embarrassed now. “But I didn’t want to sound annoying.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment, and then he groans. Like you just physically pained him. Like you just did something devastating.

You blink. “What?”

He grabs your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “Do you even realize how cute you are right now?”

You push at his chest, groaning. “Oh my god, Cheol.”

“No, seriously.” He pulls you closer, practically caging you in. “You’re pouting. You’re actually pouting. Do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?”

“I was trying to be serious!”

“I am serious.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, grinning. “You’re adorable. And for the record, you could never be annoying.”

The action felt so natural you didn't even register what he did. You just let yourself relax against him. “So, tell me then.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Well, my favorite color is black.”

“Figures.”

“My favorite food…” He pauses, then smirks. “Lately, anything you make.”

You scoff. “Liar.”

“I’m dead serious. Even when you mess up, it’s good.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight the warmth spreading through your chest. “Okay, what about your favorite drink?”

“Hm. Coffee, obviously.”

You nod, committing each answer to memory. You keep going, asking about little things—his favorite season, his favorite scent, even his favorite childhood memory. And he answers every single one. Somewhere in the middle of it, you rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets you.

Eventually, he asks, “Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Just wanted to know more about you.”

He chuckles, resting his chin atop your head. “Then ask me anything, anytime. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Just the faint hum of the TV and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. Your head is still resting on his shoulder, and his fingers are tracing mindless patterns along your sleeve.

And then, so softly, you whisper, "Why do you like me?"

You don’t know why you ask. Maybe it’s been lingering in your mind for too long, sitting in the back of your thoughts, waiting for a moment like this to slip out. Maybe you’ve been too scared to say it until now.

Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away. You feel him shift slightly, his head tilting down toward you. His fingers stop their slow tracing. Then, slowly, his arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

And finally, he smiles.

“Because it’s you.” Simple. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was never even a question to begin with.

Your heart stumbles.

He keeps going, voice quieter now, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “You don’t even realize it, do you? The way you pull people in without even trying. The way you act all guarded, but deep down, you care so much it hurts. You pretend to be tough, but you—” He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re probably the softest person I know.”

You swallow, suddenly unable to breathe properly.

“You make people want to stay,” he says, gaze warm, unwavering. “You make me want to stay.”

Your chest feels too tight, your throat closing up. It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time so you don’t say anything.

You just press your face into his shoulder, gripping onto his sleeve like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He doesn’t push. He just holds you a little tighter. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets you bury yourself against him. His fingers move again, slow and steady along your back, tracing something soothing.

And then, in the quiet, he asks—

"What about you?"

His voice is soft, careful. Like he’s giving you a choice. Like he knows you could still push him away if you wanted to. You stay still, trying to ignore the way your heart is suddenly racing.

Seungcheol waits.

You don’t look at him when you mumble, “What do you mean?”

“You asked me why I like you," he says. "So now I want to know—" He leans in just slightly, enough for his breath to brush against your hair. "Why do you like me?"

You tense. He must feel it, because his arms stay firm around you, like he’s telling you it’s okay. That he’s not going anywhere. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because what are you supposed to say? That you like the way he makes you feel safe, even when you’re scared? That you like the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room? That you like how, even when you try to push him away, he stays?

"I don't know."

Seungcheol hums, but he doesn’t sound disappointed.

"You do," he says, amused. "You're just not ready to say it to me yet but that's okay" he bumps the tip of your nose with his finger

That makes your stomach flip. You finally look up at him, and he's already watching you. Not expectantly, not impatiently. Just there. Waiting. And somehow, that makes you want to say it more.

So you whisper, "I like you because..." You trail off, then exhale, pressing your forehead against his chest.

He chuckles. "Because what?"

You groan again. "I don’t know. Because you’re you.”

Seungcheol stills then you feel him smile against your hair, arms pulling you in tighter. He understood what that meant for he said the same thing, but in his mind it meant more and maybe that's how you felt too. But he doesn't push instead he presses his lips against your hair

"Okay," he says, voice full of something you can’t quite place. "I’ll take that."

You don’t know why you do it.

Maybe it’s the warmth of his arms around you, the way he looks at you like you’re something precious. Maybe it’s the way your heart has been hammering against your ribs since he asked but before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

A quick press of your lips against his.

Soft. Barely there. You pull away almost immediately, heart pounding, and Seungcheol just blinks at you. Like you’ve stunned him. Like he wasn’t expecting it at all.

And maybe that should make you panic, but instead, you just breathe

"Because you make me feel safe."

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. You don’t stop.

"Because you always stay, even when I push you away. Because you don’t make me feel stupid for being scared." Your voice is quieter now, almost shaky. "Because I sleep better when you’re around."

Seungcheol exhales sharply, jaw tightening. His hands flex against your waist, like he’s holding himself back.

But you’re not done.

"And because—” You swallow, forcing yourself to look at him, to really look at him. “—because I think I like you more than I’m ready to admit."

Something shifts in his expression. And then he moves. His hand lifts, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your face up.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is rough, barely a whisper. You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod. And then his lips are on yours, slow and deep and warm.

And this time, you don’t pull away. You don’t know how long you stay like that. kissing him, feeling the warmth of his hands steady on your waist, his breath mingling with yours.

It’s slow, unrushed, like he has all the time in the world for you. When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. He presses his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. His eyes are closed, like he’s savoring this moment, like he’s trying to commit every second to memory.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he murmurs.

Your fingers tighten around his hoodie. "Have you?"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft but serious. "Yeah. Since the first night I met you."

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. "Liar."

"I’m not lying." His thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch unbearably gentle. "You walked up to me, all confident, all fire. And I knew I was in trouble."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is thudding painfully in your chest.

"I’m serious," he says, tilting his head. "You think you’re the only one who got caught up in something bigger than they expected?"

You don’t know how to respond to that. So you just stay there, pressed against him, his warmth seeping into you.

Eventually, he sighs, pulling you even closer, until your head rests against his chest.

"Are you going to run away again?" he asks, voice quieter now.

You hesitate. Then, with a small shake of your head, you mumble against his hoodie, "Not this time."

Seungcheol chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good," he whispers. "Because I’m not letting you go."

A few days passed since then.

You’re mid-story, animatedly recounting something that happened at work. something about a ridiculous customer complaint and how Jihyo nearly lost her mind handling it. You’re laughing, shaking your head as you lean back against the passenger seat

“So then, Jihyo turns to me and goes, ‘Do you think your boyfriend would cover bail if I strangled this guy?’ And I was like—”

You don’t notice the slip.

But he does.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything at first, but his grip tightens just slightly on the steering wheel. His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk. You keep talking, unaware, until the silence stretches just a little too long, and you finally glance at him.

“What?” You frown at his expression, at the barely concealed amusement in his eyes.

He hums, tilting his head slightly. “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, what?”

He shrugs, but that damn smirk is there now, full and knowing. “Just thinking about what you just said.”

Your brows furrow, replaying the conversation in your head—until it clicks. Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he repeats, mockingly

Your face heats up instantly, and you groan, covering it with your hands. “Forget it. I misspoke.”

“Mmm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know. Boyfriend, huh?”

You glare at him from behind your fingers. “You heard nothing.”

He chuckles, so pleased with himself. “I definitely did.”

You groan louder, sinking into the seat, but he just reaches over, lacing his fingers through yours as he drives.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “I like the sound of it.”

You grumble under your breath, something about him not even asking you. Seungcheol hears it, of course. He always hears everything.

“What was that?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, looking out the window.

He scoffs, giving your hand another squeeze. “No, no, I definitely heard you.”

You sigh, shifting in your seat. “Just saying... You didn’t even ask me.”

He chuckles, amused. “Didn’t think I had to. Thought it was obvious.”

You turn to him, raising a brow. “Oh? And what exactly is obvious?”

“That you’re mine,” he says smoothly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

“Cocky.”

He smirks, glancing at you as he slows at a red light. “So? Are you saying I should ask?”

You cross your arms, pretending to think. “Maybe. It’s the proper thing to do, you know. Can’t just go around assuming.”

He hums, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Alright then.” He turns to you fully, eyes soft yet unwavering. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You blink. You weren’t actually expecting him to ask—at least not now. A beat of silence passes. And you just reach for his hand, he smiles looking down at your intertwined hands.

Dating Seungcheol is both a blessing and a menace. Most days, he’s a teasing little shit, poking fun at you, making sly comments just to see you get flustered. But then there are moments—fleeting but potent—where you do something that makes him completely malfunction.

Like now.

It’s like the universe is testing Seungcheol. You don’t even notice. Just plop onto his couch, tugging your knees up, he’s across from you, jaw clenched so tightly it might snap, fingers curled into a fist against his thigh.

“You okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He exhales through his nose. “Peachy.”

Then there’s the way you touch him so casually, so carelessly. Like now, when you’re leaning over to grab the remote from beside him, palm resting on his thigh for balance. You don’t even think about it. But he does. Oh, he does.

“Sweetheart.” His voice is low, strained.

You pause, remote in hand, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to focus on anything that isn’t you.

But the universe isn’t done torturing him yet.

Because then there’s the time you’re at his place late at night, exhausted from work, and you decide to shower there And he’s fine. He really is, until you step out of the bathroom, steam rolling behind you, skin still damp, wearing one of his shirts.

And it’s too much.

You’re rubbing your towel over your hair, completely unaware of the way his gaze darkens. Your legs are bare, your collarbone peeking from where the fabric slips off your shoulder, and when you look up at him and pout because your hair won’t dry properly, he damn near blacks out.

“Come here.” His voice is hoarse.

You step between his legs as he grabs the towel from your hands, gently drying your hair. You close your eyes at the feeling, sighing in content, and something inside him snaps. The towel drops. His fingers card through your damp strands, then skim over your jaw, tilting your face up until your noses are almost touching.

“Why do you do this to me?” he murmurs.

You blink, confused. “Do what?” He exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, trying to steady himself. You’re too close, too soft, too fucking tempting, and you have no idea what you do to him.

He can’t kiss you. He won’t. Not now. Because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. You look at him, genuinely clueless, which makes it so much harder for him.

“No, tell me,” you insist, voice soft but stubborn. You throw your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him like you belong there. Like you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

Seungcheol swallows hard. His hands hover over your waist, unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away before he loses all control. He exhales sharply, eyes flickering between yours and your lips, and fuck you’re looking at him like that, all wide-eyed and waiting, completely oblivious to the war raging inside him.

His fingers tighten around your waist. “Sweetheart,” he warns.

“What?”

“You,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with restraint. “You drive me insane.”

You blink. “Me?”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, you.”

You tilt your head, lips pursing in thought. Then, with a teasing smile, you press even closer, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Like… in a good way?”

He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder, body tense under your touch. “You’re killing me.”

You grin, clearly enjoying this now. “Oh.” You hum, pretending to think. “Should I stop?”

Seungcheol lifts his head, eyes dark as they lock onto yours. “No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

Instead, you shift, adjusting your position, and in doing so, you press even closer, your breath warm against his jaw. His fingers twitch against your waist. His breathing is uneven now, ragged. You’re playing with fire and you don’t even know it.

You pout. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

He exhales sharply. “Because if I do, I’ll do something reckless.”

Your brows knit together, still oblivious. “Like what?”

One second, you’re tangled in him, his lips hot against yours, his grip firm and possessive. Next, you’re suddenly weightless.

“What the—Cheol!” you yelp as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders. He doesn’t give you a chance to react, he strides towards his bedroom like a man on a mission. Before you can even fully process it, he tosses you onto the bed.

You bounce slightly, gasping, and before you can sit up, a blanket is thrown over you, covering you completely.

Then, his voice, rough and absolutely wrecked— “I’m taking a cold shower.”

The bathroom door slams shut. For a moment, you just lie there, wrapped up in the blanket, in shock. Then, the realization of what just happened hits you.

You burst out laughing.

Seungcheol, the ever-composed, ever-in-control man, just physically removed himself from the situation because of you.

After his cold shower, you watch as Seungcheol grabs a pillow—no, two pillows—and shoves them between you, effectively creating a makeshift wall. His jaw is tight, his ears red, and he mutters under his breath, “I’m not taking another cold shower because of you.”

You blink at him, amused. “You make it sound like I’m the problem here.”

He scoffs, pulling the blanket over you properly, tucking you in like you’re some misbehaving child. “Oh, you are the problem.”

You grin, burrowing into the warmth of the bed. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you just—”

“Sleep.” His voice is firm, though the way he fluffs your pillow for you before lying back down betrays his exasperated fondness.

“Really? You think this will stop me?”

Seungcheol groans, throwing an arm over his face. “For the love of God, just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

You smirk in the dark, fingers lightly tapping against the pillow barrier. Then, just to mess with him, you whisper, "Seungcheol." You hear him exhale sharply, like he's really holding on to his patience.

"Baby, please." His voice is strained, almost desperate.

You giggle, completely unbothered, and finally, finally let yourself relax. “Okay, okay. Good night, Cheol.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just sighs heavily. Then, softer this time, “Good night.”

And with that, you finally fall asleep—while Seungcheol spends the next half hour staring at the ceiling, trying to get his heart to calm the hell down.

Things are going good, great even. But of course it's like your mind can't let you have a moment of peace.

The thought hit you out of nowhere, settling like an annoying weight in your chest.

You were out with the girls, sitting in your usual corner of the café, but your mind was far from the conversation. The last few nights replayed in your head—every time you teased Seungcheol, every time he pulled away, walked off.

It made you wonder… What if he doesn’t want you like that?

What if you’d misread everything? What if he was just tolerating you, indulging you even, but deep down, he didn’t actually—

"Okay, what’s up with you?" Jihyo’s voice snapped you back to reality. You blinked, realizing everyone at the table was now looking at you

"Huh?"

Irene smirked. "You’ve been spacing out. Something on your mind?"

You hesitated. You weren’t about to pour your heart out in the middle of a brunch spot, but at the same time, the thought was eating at you.

"It’s just…" You chewed on your lip. "Do you think it’s possible for someone to really like you but…not want you like that?"

Jihyo raised an eyebrow. "You’re talking about Seungcheol, aren’t you?"

You avoided their stares, but your silence was enough of an answer.

Irene sighed, setting her cup down. "He’s a grown man, babe. If he didn’t want you like that, he’d say so. Trust me, men are not subtle when they’re not interested."

"Yeah, but what if it’s not that?" you pressed. "What if he just doesn’t see me that way?"

Jihyo scoffed. "Oh my god, you’re actually dumb."

"Excuse me?"

She leaned forward, eyes sharp. "That man looks at you like you hung the damn moon. He gets all flustered because he’s trying so hard to be good for you. He’s literally suffering, and you’re sitting here thinking he doesn’t want you?"

Irene nodded. "You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?"

You swallowed, suddenly feeling even more ridiculous. "I just— I don’t know," you admitted. "Every time things get…close, he walks away. And now I can’t stop wondering if maybe—"

"Okay, I’m stopping you right there," Jihyo cut in. "Because if we let you spiral, we’ll be here all day. This is you, the same woman who walked up to him that night all confident and emerged victorious after getting THE Choi Seungcheol's number. Babe, don't doubt what you do to that man"

"Then what do I do?" you asked, exasperated.

She smirked. "You stop overthinking and talk to him, obviously."

And that's what you do. When Seungcheol opened the door, the first thing he saw was your pout. His brows furrowed instantly. "What's wrong?"

You just walked past him, kicking your shoes off, before flopping onto his couch with a dramatic sigh.

"You don’t want me, do you?"

Seungcheol blinked. "What?"

You sat up, arms crossed. "I mean, you like me, but you don’t want me like that."

It took him a full three seconds to process your words. Then, he let out a sharp laugh like the kind you make when you’re so caught off guard you don’t know how else to react.

"Wait, are you serious?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t laugh! I’m being serious."

He ran a hand down his face, inhaling deeply before crouching in front of you. His hands came to rest on your knees, fingers warm against your skin.

"Baby," he said slowly, as if trying to make sure you really heard him. "I want you so badly it’s a problem."

Your face heated. "Then why do you always stop?"

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to rein himself in. "Because you’re not just some girl I want to mess around with. You matter to me. And if I’m gonna have you like that, I want to make sure you’re really ready."

You frowned. "I'm a grown woman I can make decsions you know"

"I know"

"And what if I am?" you ask, peering down at him

His fingers flexed against your knees, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Then you need to stop looking at me like that," he muttered, voice lower now.

"Like what?" you challenged, tilting your head

His grip on you tightened slightly. "Like you want me to lose every bit of self-control I have."

You held his gaze, feeling your own heartbeat pick up.

"And if I do?"

His jaw locked. For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was weighing every possible option. Then, in one smooth motion, he pushed himself up, towering over you.

"Get up," he murmured.

Your breath caught. "Why?" but you follow his words. Now you’re standing in front of him, look of frustration and something else in his eyes

“The next time you feel like I don’t want you, you have my full permission to hit me on the face”

“Cheol, I’m being serious” you mumble

“So am I, I want you. Always. In ways I didn’t even know I can ever want someone. That’s why I want to do this the right way. So tell your pretty little mind how crazy I am about you, because I will never get tired proving it to you. I want and I will kiss all those worries away, get rid of all those doubts in your head until all you can think about is me.”

The way he’s looking at you tells you everything you needed to know, and his words just proved to you that this man means everything.

The following days, that conversation floated inside Seungcheol's head. Even though you came to him full of worries, which he shut down quite fast, atleast now instead of running away from him you came straight to him for answers.

And to you, that's a big deal. A huge step for you, a big win for him. He's so proud of how far you've come.

That's exactly why now he's staring at his computer screen, but he wasn’t actually reading anything. His mind was elsewhere, circling the same thought over and over.

"Hey."

Joshua’s voice snapped him out of it. He looked up to see his friend leaning against the doorway of his office, arms crossed, a knowing look on his face

"You’ve been spacing out for the past ten minutes," Joshua said, stepping inside. "What’s up?"

Seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Nothing."

Joshua raised an eyebrow. "You? Lost in thought like this? Yeah, that’s not ‘nothing.’"

Seungcheol rolled his chair back slightly, leaning against it. His jaw tightened before he finally admitted, "How do you know if it’s too soon to say something?"

Joshua frowned slightly. "Say what?"

Seungcheol hesitated, then shook his head. "Doesn’t matter."

Joshua scoffed, dragging a chair over and sitting down across from him. "Oh, it definitely matters."

Seungcheol let out a slow breath. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in things like this. He had always been rational, controlled. But now?

Now, he was thinking about you. How you felt curled up against him. How you whispered things when you’re half-asleep. How one pout from you and it’s messing with his head without even realizing it.

Joshua watched him closely. "You know you’re terrible at being vague, right?"

Seungcheol let out a humorless chuckle. "Shut up."

Joshua smirked. "It’s about her, isn’t it?"

Seungcheol didn’t respond, which was response enough.

Joshua leaned back, thoughtful. "You’re wondering if it’s too soon to tell her how you feel."

Seungcheol’s fingers tapped against his desk. "It’s... complicated."

Joshua tilted his head. "Is it? Or are you just scared?"

"I’m not scared."

Joshua just smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

Seungcheol shot him a glare. "I’m not." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "I know how I feel."

That was the problem. He wasn’t second-guessing himself. He wasn’t unsure. He knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how much he cared about you. That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was what if he said it and you freaked out? What if you weren’t ready to hear it? What if he messed this up when things were finally good between you two?

He had worked so damn hard to get here, to get past your walls, to get you to trust him. If he said the words too soon, would you take a step back? Would you run?

Joshua was watching him, a knowing look in his eyes. "So... what are you going to do?"

Seungcheol exhaled. "I don’t know."

Joshua nodded slowly. "Well, you better figure it out. Because from what I can see? You’re already in deep."

Seungcheol had been acting different.

It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing anyone else would notice, but you did. He was still the same—still teasing, still touching you when he could, still looking at you in that way that made your stomach flip. But there was something underneath it all, a tension in his shoulders, a weight behind his eyes, like he was carrying something he wasn’t saying.

And you hated that.

You hated when people acted like they wanted to say something but didn’t. It made you anxious, made your mind wander to all the worst possible reasons. Was he mad at you? Annoyed? Regretting something?

You tried to ignore it at first. You didn’t want to overthink things, didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. But it had been days, and it was still there.

Like now.

You were at his place, curled up on his couch, your legs resting over his lap as he scrolled through something on his phone. It should’ve been a normal moment but you weren’t relaxed. Not when you could feel it—his energy, the stiffness in his posture, the way he wasn’t fully present.

You narrowed your eyes. "Okay, what’s up with you?"

Seungcheol looked at you, brow raised. "What?"

"Don’t what me," you shot back, sitting up a little. "You’ve been weird. Tense. You keep looking like you wanna say something but then don’t, and I don’t like it."

His mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. And that just pissed you off more.

You swung your legs off him and sat up properly, arms crossing. "Seriously? You’re still not gonna say anything?"

"There’s nothing to say," he finally answered, running a hand through his hair.

"Bullshit."

His head snapped toward you, startled by the change in your tone

"You think I can’t tell? You think I don’t notice?" You shook your head, jaw clenched. "I hate when people do this. When they keep things to themselves like I’m too fragile to handle it. So either say whatever it is, or stop acting like you’re carrying the weight of the world."

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch. "It’s not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, voice low, "I don’t wanna mess this up."

That gave you pause.

Your frustration flickered with something else, something softer, something unsure. "Mess what up?"

His eyes met yours then—dark and unreadable, but heavy with meaning. And suddenly, you felt tense. Seungcheol watched as you pushed off the couch, your jaw tight, your movements sharp. You didn’t even look at him as you grabbed your phone and hoodie from the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low

"Leaving," you said shortly. That one word had something hot and annoyed burning in his chest.

"You’re really gonna walk out just because I don’t want to talk about something right now?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "I don’t wanna say anything else that’s gonna piss me off even more, so yeah, I’m leaving."

Seungcheol stood then, stepping toward you. "You’re mad."

"No shit," you bit out, finally meeting his eyes.

He could see it—the way your hands gripped your hoodie tighter, the way your expression was carefully set, like you were forcing yourself to hold back.

He took another step closer, his voice softer. "Hey."

You didn’t move away, but you didn’t soften either. "Fine," you said, shaking your head. "Don’t say it. Keep whatever it is to yourself. But don’t act like I’m imagining this."

Then you turned toward the door. And for a second, he let you but the moment your fingers touched the handle, something in him snapped.

"Wait."

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He could let you go. He could pretend this tension between you wasn’t suffocating him, that he wasn’t overthinking every second he spent with you now.

But he couldn’t.

"Wait," he said again, softer this time.

You still didn’t turn around, but you didn’t move either.

"I—" He hesitated, clenching his jaw. He had to say something, or he was going to lose you to this stupid misunderstanding.

"I don’t want to keep anything from you," he admitted. "But I’m trying to figure out how to say it so I don’t fuck this up."

At that, you finally turned, your eyes narrowing. "Fuck what up?"

He let out a frustrated laugh, rubbing his face. "Us, obviously."

Your lips parted slightly, and for the first time, he saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I feel something, and I don’t know if it’s too soon to say it. I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it."

Your breath caught, and he saw your fingers twitch by your side.

"But the way you’ve been looking at me," you whispered, voice quieter now. "It’s been messing with my head. I don’t like not knowing."

"I know," he said, stepping closer. "And I don’t want to make you feel like that."

You held his gaze, searching his expression for something, anything that would make this all make sense. "Then just say it, Seungcheol," you murmured. "Whatever it is."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his fingers twitching like he was holding himself back. Then, with a quiet chuckle—one that sounded more like surrender than amusement—he finally said it.

"I love you."

The words hung between you, heavy and charged.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stared at him, like your brain needed time to process what he'd just said. "You—"

"I love you," he repeated, firmer this time. "And I know it’s fast, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do."

You were silent, and his heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t scared of how he felt—he never was—but this was the first time he was terrified of what you’d do with it.

When you finally spoke, your voice was small. "You weren’t going to tell me?"

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I didn’t want to push you before you were ready."

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "You idiot."

His brows lifted. "What?"

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and grabbed his face, pulling him down into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful—it was desperate, like you were making up for every second you spent doubting him.

He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you impossibly close. When you finally broke apart, you stayed there, forehead resting against his, breath uneven.

"You love me," you whispered, like you were still trying to believe it.

"Yeah," he murmured, his thumb stroking the side of your face. "I do."

You swallowed hard. "Then say it again."

He huffed out a soft laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before whispering against them, "I love you."

You just hug him, burying your face into his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You don't say it back—not yet—but you don’t freak out either.

"You're an idiot," you mumble against his shirt.

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, his hands running up and down your back. "I figured that much"

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. "You're an absolute idiot for thinking I’d run away now."

Something in his expression softens, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on your waist.

"So... you're not mad anymore?" he asks, a bit cautious, a bit hopeful.

You roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "Maybe at myself. The world, I don't know," you sigh, shaking your head before leaning back into his chest. "But I’m not running away, so you better deal with it."

Seungcheol chuckles, holding you even closer, his chin resting on top of your head. "Oh, I’ll deal with it just fine." he doesn’t let go. If anything, he holds you even tighter, like he's afraid that if he loosens his grip even a little, you might change your mind.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice warm against your hair, "I really wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I just… I didn’t want to mess this up."

You sigh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "You almost did."

He chuckles, but it’s breathy, like he knows how close he came. "Yeah. Noted."

You tilt your head back, looking up at him. His eyes are searching yours, and you can tell he’s still a little hesitant, still waiting for you to process everything.

But you stay there, in his arms, with him. No running away, no deflecting, no hiding away. Then you smile, kissing him softly like you know he'll know what you wanted to say.

And he does.

It's the end of another long workday, the only redeeming part of it is when your boyfriend texted you letting you know he'll come and pick you up. Though for Seungcheol it's the norm, he just likes updating you.

He barely has time to react before you're already right in front of him, practically bouncing on your feet. His eyes widen slightly at your enthusiasm, and then—he smirks.

"What’s with the happy energy?" he teases, arms already opening for you.

You don’t even answer, just throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "I just missed you," you mumble against his shoulder.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. "Yeah?" he murmurs, voice warm. "That much?"

You nod, still clinging to him. "Mhm. And my day was annoying, so fix it."

He huffs a small laugh and pulls back slightly to look at you. "Fix it, huh? And how am I supposed to do that?"

You dramatically sigh. "I don’t know. Be my boyfriend or something."

Seungcheol grins, tilting his head. "Oh? Thought I already was."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. "You are. I’m just reminding you."

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before opening the car door for you. "Well then, let me take my girlfriend home."

You pretend to think. "Hmm… ice cream first?"

His eyes narrow playfully. "So that’s why you missed me." He laughs, shaking his head, before pulling you into another hug. "Alright, ice cream first. Then home."

Seungcheol glances at you from the driver’s seat, watching as you hum along to the song playing on the radio, fingers drumming idly against your thigh. There’s something light about you now, something warm and unguarded.

He never thought he’d get to see you like this. Not after how hard you pushed him away in the beginning. But now, here you are—grinning at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

"What?" you ask, catching his stare.

He shakes his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just… I like seeing you like this."

You blink. "Like what?"

"Happy," he says simply.

Your smile falters just a little, eyes searching his like you’re trying to understand him. You still have those moments, where doubt creeps in, where you hesitate—but they’re fewer now. And even when they do come, Seungcheol just holds on tighter.

"I am happy," you finally say, quieter now.

His hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly. "Good."

For a while, neither of you say anything. You just hold his hand, tracing little shapes against his skin absentmindedly. He doesn’t miss the way you squeeze his fingers, like you’re reassuring yourself that he’s really there.

It hits him all at once—how much he loves you.

How every part of you, even the difficult parts, even the stubborn parts, only makes him love you more.

That night, you’re at his place again, curled up on the couch with him. The TV is on, but neither of you are really watching. You’re leaning against his side, playing with his fingers, and Seungcheol just watches you—completely, utterly taken by you.

"You’re staring again," you mumble without looking up.

"Told you, can’t help it," he says, voice warm with amusement. You roll your eyes but don’t pull away. Instead, you let out a little sigh and shift closer, practically molding yourself against him.

"Comfy?" he teases.

You nod against his chest. "Mhm. You’re warm."

Seungcheol chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. These are the moments he treasures the most—the quiet ones, when you let yourself just be with him without hesitation.

"You’re staying over, right?" he asks after a while.

You hum, considering it. "Do you want me to?"

He scoffs. "Obviously."

A small smile tugs at your lips. "Okay."

Seungcheol grins, satisfied. But then you shift again, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him with that thoughtful expression he knows too well.

"What?" he asks.

You hesitate, like you’re deciding whether or not to say what’s on your mind. But then, after a beat, you ask, "What did you think of me when we first met?"

Seungcheol raises a brow. "You mean when you walked up to me all confident like you owned the place?"

You groan, burying your face in his shirt. "Forget it."

He laughs, pulling you even closer. "No, no. I liked it. I thought you were interesting. A little reckless, but definitely interesting."

You peek up at him. "And now?"

Seungcheol’s gaze softens, thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "Now I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

You stare at him for a moment, and Seungcheol swears he sees a million thoughts flicker across your face. But in the end, you don’t say anything—you just smile, a little shy, and nuzzle back into his chest.

He holds you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

It happens so naturally that neither of you realize it at first.

It’s a lazy weekend morning, the kind where neither of you are in a rush to do anything. You spent the night at his place again, and now you’re curled up under the covers, half-awake, watching Seungcheol pull on a hoodie as he gets ready to leave for the gym.

"I’ll be back soon," he says, fixing his hair in the mirror

You nod sleepily, your voice still thick with drowsiness. "Okay. Bye, I love you."

Seungcheol freezes.

You don’t even notice—you just turn over, snuggling deeper into the blankets, eyes already fluttering shut again.

It takes him a full five seconds to process what just happened.

You said it. I love you. Just like that, so effortlessly, so naturally, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His heart is pounding.

Does he wake you up? Does he say it back right now? Should he pretend he didn’t hear it and bring it up later? What is he supposed to do with this information?

Seungcheol lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. He glances back at you—you’re already asleep again, completely unaware of the internal crisis you just threw him into.

With a small, almost incredulous smile, he leans down, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too," he murmurs, even though you’re not awake to hear it.

And with that, he leaves, a stupid grin on his face the entire way to the gym.

Later when he comes back from his workout, he's practically bouncing on his feet. Seungcheol walks through the door with an energy that’s almost suspicious. He’s humming—actually humming—as he tosses his gym bag aside and heads straight for the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

You, curled up on the couch with your phone, raise an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so jolly?"

He grins, twisting the cap off his water bottle. "Can’t a guy just be in a good mood?"

"No, not you. You, specifically, are annoyingly smug right now," you counter, narrowing your eyes. "What happened at the gym? Did you beat Joshua at something?"

Seungcheol lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that." He takes a sip of water, still smiling

You watch him for a second, suspicious. "You're acting weird."

"Am I?" he teases, walking over to you. Before you can protest, he flops onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms with ease. "Maybe I’m just happy to see my girlfriend."

You squint at him. "Okay, now I know something’s up."

Seungcheol just chuckles, squeezing you tighter as he buries his face into your shoulder. "You’re overthinking, baby."

You poke his cheek, trying to get a read on him. He’s still grinning, a little too happy, but whatever it is, he’s clearly not going to tell you. You sigh, deciding to drop it—for now.

Instead, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He kisses the top of your head, and even though you don’t know why he’s in such a ridiculously good mood, you find yourself smiling anyway.

Seungcheol holds you close, his chin resting lightly atop your head. His voice is quieter now, softer, just for you. "I love you."

It’s not the first time he’s said it, and he never expects you to say it back—not until you’re ready.

But today, it feels different.

Today, he heard it from you first, even if you didn’t realize it. You shift slightly in his arms, letting out a sleepy hum, but you don’t react beyond that. You’re still completely unaware of what you said before he left earlier.

Seungcheol doesn’t mind, though. The words are still lingering in his chest, making everything feel a little bit lighter, a little bit warmer. He tightens his hold on you, just a little. He’ll wait until you’re fully aware of it, until you choose to say it again—because he knows you will.

For now, though, he just lets himself enjoy the moment.

What he doesn’t know is that you've been thinking about it too.

You didn’t realize how much space the thought was taking up in your head until recently. how much you wanted to say it, how much it sat at the tip of your tongue every time he smiled at you, every time he pulled you closer without a second thought.

You've always been cautious with your feelings, but with Seungcheol, it feels different. It is different.

"You're thinking too hard," he finally says, pulling you from your thoughts.

You blink, turning to him. "What?"

His eyes crinkle with a teasing grin. "You're staring at the TV, but you haven’t reacted to anything in the last twenty minutes. Either you’re really bad at watching dramas, or something’s on your mind."

You open your mouth, then close it again, hesitating. If only you knew that he was fighting the same battle—wondering when you'd say it, waiting to hear it again, completely unaware that it had already slipped past your lips once before.

You exhale, shaking your head. "It’s nothing."

Seungcheol just hums, reaching over to tug you into his side. He doesn’t press, doesn’t push. Neither of you knows that you’re both waiting for the same thing.

You feel the warmth of his palm as he rubs gentle circles on your back. His voice is soft, comforting, steady—just like him.

"You know you can tell me, right?" he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. "Anything. I’ll be here. But take your time."

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of his hoodie. You want to say it. You really do. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but there’s still something in you that holds back—maybe fear, maybe habit.

Seungcheol doesn’t push. He never does. He just stays close, waiting, patient as ever.

You nod, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "I know."

And he just smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good."

Little does he know, the next time you say it, you’ll be wide awake and it happened in the middle of a completely ridiculous argument.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you insist, arms crossed as you watch him attempt to assemble the shelf you bought.

He scoffs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m doing it wrong? I literally followed the instructions!”

“You’re not supposed to tighten that part first! It’s going to make the other side uneven.”

“That makes no sense.” He stares at you, completely baffled. “How does that even—?”

“Cheol, baby, I love you, but you’re being so stubborn right now.”

Silence.

Your own words register a second too late, and your eyes widen in horror. Seungcheol, on the other hand, freezes mid-motion, screwdriver in hand, looking at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

You both just… stare at each other.

Then he slowly puts the screwdriver down, standing up to his full height, taking a step toward you. “What did you just say?”

You immediately backtrack. “I said you’re stubborn—”

“No, no, before that.” His lips are curving into a slow smile now, eyes practically glowing with amusement.

Your face burns. “I—nothing, it’s nothing—”

He traps you against the counter in a second, hands braced on either side of you. “Say it again.”

Your heart is pounding. “Cheol—”

“Sweetheart—” he drawls, voice teasing.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

He chuckles, effortlessly prying your hands away. “That’s not what you said.”

“I am never speaking again.”

His grin softens as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Too bad, ‘cause I love hearing you say it.”

And just like that, he kisses you, completely ruining your ability to argue back. Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips still curved into that teasing grin. “Say it again.”

You groan, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Cheol—”

“Come on, just once more.” His voice is soft, coaxing, as if he’s trying to savor the moment.

You purse your lips, pretending to think. “Hmm. No.”

His grip on your waist tightens as he buries his face against your shoulder, groaning dramatically. “Baby, please.”

You laugh at how genuinely desperate he sounds. “I already said it once—”

“You accidentally said it. I need to hear it properly.” He pulls back again, looking at you with those warm brown eyes, filled with so much adoration it makes your stomach flip. “Please?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile, but it’s impossible. “I love you,” you finally mumble, cheeks warm. A full-blown grin takes over his face, and before you can react, he lifts you off the ground, spinning you around.

“I knew it! I knew you loved me!”

You yelp, holding onto him for dear life. “Cheol—put me down!”

“Never,” he declares dramatically, but he does set you back on your feet only to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle.

He pulls back just slightly, his hands cradling your face. “Say it one more time?”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you makes your heart melt. So you cup his face in return, smiling softly as you whisper, “I love you, Seungcheol.”

He kisses you like he’s been waiting forever to hear that. And honestly, you think you could get used to this.

You never thought you’d be here. Wrapped up in Seungcheol’s arms on a lazy Sunday morning, his even breathing against your hair, your legs tangled together like there wasn’t a time you used to push him away.

It still amazes you sometimes. How this happened. How he happened.

Seungcheol shifts, arms tightening around you as he mumbles something incoherent. He’s warm, comfortable, and you let yourself sink into him for a little longer before peeking up at his face.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he repeats, voice raspy from sleep, “you should get up and make breakfast today.”

You snort. “No thanks.”

He groans dramatically. “You’re lucky I love you.”

That makes you pause, thinking back to how long it took you to get here—to be able to hear those words and not flinch, to not shut him out at the first sign of something real.

When you first met him, you were all sharp edges and walls built so high even you weren’t sure how to break them down. You’d walked into his life all confidence and bravado, pretending like you could handle him, only to realize you’d bitten off more than you could chew.

And still, he stayed.

Through every time you tried to push him away, through every moment of doubt, through every scar you never wanted to talk about—he stayed. He waited.

“You okay?” he murmurs now, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are soft, filled with something so deep it makes your chest ache.

You nod, smiling a little. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” His gaze lingers like he knows you’re thinking about something, but he doesn’t push. He never does. He just looks at you with love you thought you'll never feel again, arms feeling like a home you thought you'd never find.

So, naturally, you decide to ruin the moment.

“Though, if we’re talking about luck,” you muse, dragging a finger down his chest, “you are the lucky one here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes.” You hum, barely biting back a grin. “Because who else would deal with your ridiculous gym obsession, your clinginess, and—oh! The way you steal the blankets every night?”

Seungcheol gasps, scandalized. “I steal the blankets?”

“Yes.”

“Baby, you are the thief here. I wake up freezing at least twice a week because you bundle yourself up like a burrito—”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He huffs before suddenly rolling over, pinning you beneath him. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”

You grin up at him. “You’re lucky I let you love me.”

"Baby, give credit where it's due. I worked hard to be here" he jokingly says, cuddling you even more. And he really did, he is exactly the man he said he is. He didn't leave, he stayed when it mattered. He never let you go when you wanted to disappear.

To him, you will always be worth all that wait. It wasn't luck. It was him being sure of you from that very first night. It was luck when you saw him that night at the bar.

But the rest, that's all him and you. It's hardwork but with the person, with you, it's easy.

And that’s why, despite all the teasing and the banter, you lift a hand to cup his cheek and whisper, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

That makes something flicker in his eyes, something real and tender, because you both know how hard it was for you to accept love—to accept him.

His face softens, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

And really, this is how life with Seungcheol is—full of laughter, playful teasing, and more love than you ever thought possible. You never expected to let someone in so completely, but here he is, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

328 notes · View notes