gumgoddesss

[starlooove]

When ppl ask why traditional men and women don’t get together the answer is literally so simple. Like these kind of women are all about misogyny until the disrespect comes. And I’m talking true degradation and disrespect; as in they want the man to make all the choices till they realize it’s ALL the choices. They don’t want to think until they realize they don’t GET to. It’s the same reason when ppl ask why ppl like Pearl don’t shut the fuck up since it’s not traditional for women to speak. Their entire view of traditional relationships is Pinterest Boards, Incel tweets, and 40s propaganda posters.

Like it’s all ‘why can’t I just stay at home and cook for the kids’ ok but what happens when you want to go out on a fun trip and he says no. What happens when kid A is sick with X and kid Z is sick with Y and there’s a parent teacher conference for kids L-P and once ur done with all that u have to have food on the table? Like these women don’t think it through at all, which is part of the problem btw like that bimbo resurgence shit is just another excuse for y’all not to fucking think, and then when it’s 30 years down the line and they’re stuck in loveless marriages (because these men don’t love them. They think it’s love but when they tell you to shut the hell up about something you were interested in before them it starts to click) they blame the whole damn world and it’s so sick.

[slowlydrowningme]

Not the One You Were Meant to Find (Pt 2)

Title: Not the One You Were Meant to Find (Pt 2)

Rating: T

Word Count: 2544

Warnings: none

Pairing: Damian x fem!reader 

Notes: Find Pt 1 here There’s shifting character POV here and it kind of changes the tone a bit.  I’ve been trying to tweak it, but it’s still bothering me no matter what I do.  So I’m just going to post it and hope it doesn’t disappoint.  There are at least three more parts coming on this one.  

Tags: @vigilantesarethebest (as the original requester) & @this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re sitting in the café on campus, furiously typing out a paper that you had forgotten was due the next day when a familiar owl mask was dropped down next to your coffee.  You would never forget the beautiful mask, the voice that had come from beneath it’s cream colored feathers would forever be burned in your memory.  You just wish you had known who it was underneath it.

Looking up, you find yourself frozen in place for a moment when you see none other than Damian Wayne standing there looking like the work of art he was.  Seriously, genetics were not fair at times.  You didn’t know what his mother looked like but of course Bruce Wayne would produce an heir that rivaled his own good looks.  And not to mention the beauty of the other three adopted brothers.

“I don’t…”  You frown and look back down at the mask, wondering what your response was supposed to be.  Had it been Damian that night?  You had never spoken to him before, so you had no reference point for his voice. And up until this moment, you had only seen him from a distance.

“May I sit?”

So, it was him under the mask that night.  Dumbly, you nod your head and move your hands to push aside your papers strewn all over the table, so he has room.  Room for what, you have no idea.  You’re just looking for something to do instead of stare stupidly at his beautiful face.

“Did you know who was beneath that mask?”  Shaking your head, you look at him.

“Not until you spoke just now.”  The tilt of his head would have made you chuckle, if you weren’t practically shaking from nerves at the moment.  He reminded you of a dog.

“Truly?”

“I’ve only ever seen you from a distance and I have never spoken to you before.  How would I have known?”  You watched his shoulders drop just a fraction of an inch and his body lean back into the chair he occupied.  “How did you know it was me?”

“Paranoid brothers.”

“Is that supposed to make sense to me?”

“I’m thrilled it doesn’t, actually.”  You just furrow your brows in confusion and look at him, hoping he’ll explain.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay…”

“But I cannot say I didn’t hope to figure out who was under that elegant mask.”  That made your cheeks warm in response, causing you to break eye contact and look down at the mess you had on the table still.  “What are you working on?”

“A paper I stupidly forgot I had due.  Natural selection vs human interference in the animal kingdoms of the world.”  You laugh softly, shaking your head at yourself. “The gala distracted me.  Another reason why I am constantly telling my father I don’t want to attend.”  You notice the slight tensing of his body when you mention your father.  And though you want to ask if he knows the man, you decide to just leave it alone.  He wasn’t a good subject, no matter who you were talking to.

“And what conclusion have you come to for the paper?”

“That if we have the power and resources to help, then we should.  Even more so when we are the ones who have endangered them to begin with,” you tell him honestly, with conviction.  

“And do you have the means to do something?”

“Not personally.  Not really.  At least not monetary.  But I have my time.”  He smiled at that and you find yourself wishing he would do that more often.  It made you want to melt into a puddle at his feet.  He probably got that often.

“I work with the endangered wildlife group here in Gotham.  We are always looking for volunteers.”

“I have been trying to do so for months,” you shrug a shoulder and his smile vanishes, a frown replacing it and you don’t like it.

“What do you mean?”

“I applied for a spot as soon as I came to Gotham last year.  But they turned me down without explanation.  I volunteer at the three animal shelters instead.”  You watch the frown deepen on his face and wait for him to say something in response.  It takes a moment, his eyes watching you from the opposite side of the table in an almost calculating way.

“I will look into it.” That makes you frown in return. “My father’s company owns the establishment; I am being groomed to take over operations.  I will look into it.”  There’s a determined set to his jaw now and you can’t help but wonder what he’ll be like as a businessman when it’s time for him to fully take over.

But for now, you wave a hand and act like the situation is no big deal.  “I have plenty I’m doing.  I’m more just curious why I got turned down.”

The look in his eye is sort of telling and you wonder if he knows what you have begun to suspect about your father.  Or if maybe the people who run the foundation currently do.  But it didn’t matter in the end, or at least it shouldn’t.  He was your father, not you.  Being the unfortunate recipient of his genetics wasn’t your fault.  But it seemed like you were to be punished for it.

“But I would like to know why it happened.  Especially, when I am constantly being told we need more help.”

“Perhaps they’re just looking for specific kinds of help?”  His eyebrow raised in question and you shrug in response.  “Perhaps my pockets aren’t as deep as they’d like.” He has the nerve to look somewhat offended by that remark, but then schools his look back to a neutral expression.

“That would completely against everything we should be standing for.”

“That’s easy to say when it’s not a problem you have ever encountered.”

“So, you are not fond of the wealthy?”  You shake your head and glance at your laptop for a moment before closing the lid and stacking your papers on top of it.

“I’m not fond of people who think they are better than others just because they have large cash reserves.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t agree?”

“On the contrary.  But I have heard many people say things like this to me, but usually they are grounded in much more hate.”  He leans forward and folds his arms on the table top that has been cleared of your belongings.  “But you are not angry.  You are…I’m not sure the proper word to use.”

“Indignant.”  That causes him to chuckle and you wish you could hear him laugh in the fullest sense.

“Not that word either. Passionate, perhaps.  Convicted, even.”

“Experienced.”

“But your father has deep pockets.”  

“And how do you know who my father is?”  He looks slightly unsettled by the question and you remember him saying his brothers were paranoid and that was how he had figured out it was her under the peacock mask. “Brothers again?”

“They’re very good at it.”

“And what did they discover?”  The frown makes its way onto his beautiful face again and you wonder if he’ll bother telling you anything.  Maybe he can confirm what you’ve been suspecting but could never prove.  Your father was a monster among men.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”  He says instead and it catches you off guard.  With a silent nod, you place your things into your bag and stand up with him. He takes your bag without even bothering to ask and allows you to walk toward the door first, only rushing ahead to open it for you before you can do it yourself.

“Thank you,” you say instead of the biting reply that your mother would expect of you.  But she didn’t have to know that her daughter liked when a man treated you with respect.  But you could still her the angry feminist voice of your inner mother complaining.

You follow his subtle lead down a path that winds down the outer edge of the campus, one of the quieter paths.  It’s a beautiful part of the school that you have been in before, just to clear your head. But you suspect he wants to avoid as many people as possible.  So, you wait until he speaks, since this was his call.

“Do you know what he does for a living?”

“I know what he claims to do for a living.  But it only took me two weeks to figure out it’s a flat out lie.  But I haven’t figured out what he actually does.”  Looking from the path to Damian, you find him watching you.  “He’s very good at covering his tracks and I’m not terribly good at this kind of thing.”

“What do you suspect?

“Nothing good.  I suspect that he’s into something I would hate him for.”  You stop walking when Damian stops and turns to face you fully.  Tilting your head in question, you wait for him to speak.  It takes a few moments, longer than you thought it would, but eventually he seems to figure out the right words.

“It’s not safe for you to be near him.”  That you had already figured out.  But there wasn’t much of a choice in it for you.  He was still your father, even if he was a horrible person.

“I’m not exactly in a position to just move out on my own.”

“I could help.  My father would help.  But your father has his hands in some very ugly things and it’s only a matter of time before the Bats get their hands on him.”  That was startling.  The offer and the threat, or sort of threat.

“There are much bigger threats then my dad, surely.”

“All crime is a threat in this city.”  You didn’t know what to say to that.  He was right, of course.  But that didn’t make hearing it any easier.  What would happen to you if your father was taken into custody by Batman and company?  Would Red Hood kill him?  Had he done anything to bring it to that point.

Thankfully the sounding of Damian’s phone made it so you didn’t have to respond.  He pulled his phone out and looked at the screen. Without glancing at you, he typed out a reply to whatever was on his screen before pocketing the device again and looking back to you.

“I have to go, but will you promise to consider what I said?  Will you think about accepting my help?”

“Why do you care?”

Handing your bag back over to you and letting you slip the strap over your shoulder; he took a step back and looked away.

“I’m not sure yet. But I do and I would like to make sure you’re safe.  If you’ll allow it of me.”

“I’ll consider it. That’s the best I can do,” you tell him softly, drawing his gaze back to you.  He considers you before nodding and reaching out to brush his fingertips along your cheek bone, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

“I’ll see you soon.”  You watch him walk away before turning and heading back to where you had parked your car for the day, deciding to just take your work back home instead of going back to the café you had left behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you do it?” Damian glanced at Tim as he made his way into the Cave and nodded, refusing to say it out loud.  It had felt like a betrayal, slipping the tracker onto the bag he had held for Y/N when they had taken their walk.  It left him feeling something he wasn’t quite willing to unbox.

But thankfully, Tim didn’t require verbal communication and was back to the computer.  Damian watched as he pulled up the tracker and zoomed in on the location.  A residential area for the middle-class.  She was home. They had a starting point.

“I’m going to turn on the audio, you sure you want to hang around for this?”

“Just do it Drake.  I’m not some simpering fool,” he complained, rolling his eyes at Tim’s attempt to being understanding.

“He’s just trying to be kind, Little D.”  Of course Dick was loitering around.  Crossing his arms over his chest, Damian just looked at Dick and said nothing.  “It’s okay to not be okay with this.  We all know you were against it, but we have to know for sure.”

“I know, Grayson,” he stated.  “I know we have to be certain she isn’t aware of her father’s nefarious activities before we help her.”  Dick watched him for a moment longer before nodding and moving to stand behind Tim and watch the screens over his shoulder.  The audio came on with a crackle and a soft melody of classical music came filtering over the speakers.  Of course she liked classical music.

He ignored the glance Dick gave him over his shoulder.

Over the music, the faint sound of hands on a computer keyboard could be heard and Damian knew she was probably back to working on her paper.  It was a few moments longer until they heard the sound of someone calling her name.  A male, deep voice that drew Damian to stand next to Dick and grip the back of Tim’s chair.

“Y/N, shall you join me at Ocelot this evening?  I have some business to handle, but I would enjoy your company.”  The name of one of the Wayne owned establishments in Gotham sent Tim into motion, setting up the camera and security systems to be watched now that they knew he’d be there.

“No, sorry.  I have this paper I forgot to do and I need to finish it.  I got a little behind thanks to that gala.”  Her voice was distracted but Damian wished he could see her face.  He wished he could see if she was worried or afraid.

“You know, I am starting to wonder if you even like your old man.  You hardly ever spend time with me.”

“I’m just busy with classes and extra curriculars.  You know how much this all means to me.”

“Hmmm.”

“Dad…”

“Of course, Princess. I’ll leave you to your paper.  My reservation is at seven, should you change your mind.”

“Okay.” Silence met the sound of fading footsteps before the slight woosh of a deep breath being let out.  Damian’s hand tightened on Tim’s chair in response.

“She sounds scared.”

“She is.  I saw it at the gala and I saw it today.  I am certain she has no idea what he’s up to, but she isn’t blind enough to not know it is bad,” Damian responded to Dick, looking over at the elder.

“Can we slip in there and get some surveillance, you think?”  Tim asked distractedly, separating the audio to try and isolate any other noise that might be coming through at the moment.

“Send Hood to scout it out. He’s the best at that.”  And Damian trusted Jason to know the difference between spying on the girl and spying on the father.  Tim grunted in agreement as he sent off the message to Jason and waited for the other man to respond.

“Dami you up for Ocelot with me tonight then?”  

“Absolutely.”  

[ninjadurtles]

“It’s Not What It Looks Like” Grayson Dolan Imagine

Requested?-  “30? With Grayson plllsssssss, I love how you write btw that’s why I’m asking twince lol” - @dolanfivsosxox So this is Number 30 from the prompt list. Thank you so much for the sweet request! I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry it’s this late!

Word Count- 7.4k.

Warnings- Language.

Author’s Note- Holy shit, it’s been a while! Sorry, I’ve been super super busy and this surprisingly enough took a long while to write. This is the longest thing I’ve written and it was a test of my patience. Hats off to every writer who’s ever written more than 1000 words coz damn, it’s hard! Anyway, I will be replying to all my lovely asks soon- thank you to everyone who’s sent an ask in, I really really appreciate it! Lots and lots of love to you all xx

Masterlist

"It's not what it looks like!"

Your best friend raised her eyebrow at you as she waved your phone at you. You knew there was a good reason you'd given her full access to your phone but you couldn't remember what it was for the life of you as she grinned like a cheshire cat, your phone held tightly in your hand.

"Really? Coz it looks like you're getting it on with the guy you've had a crush on since forever."

You huffed as you stalked towards where she was perched on the sofa, ready to snatch your phone from her but she was ready, leaning out of your reach and holding you back with a sock clad foot.

"No one's getting anything on," you protested as you tried to bat away her legs, doing your best to reach- unsuccessfully- for your phone.

"Not what it looks like," Maya singsonged gleefully as she read the messages on the screen. She let out a squeal, twisting away as you lunged for her, ending up half on top off her. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"Give it- ooft!" You groaned as you landed on your back on the floor, the breath well and truly knocked out of you. Taking in a deep breath, you pushed yourself up so you were sitting on your carpet and glared at your so called best friend. "I really hate you."

She waved a hand at you dismissively. "Yeah, I love you too. But seriously, when did you start flirting with Grayson Dolan?"

You shrugged with faux nonchalance, your fingers twisting together.

Dating apps weren't really your thing so when Maya had all but forced you to download Bumble, the last thing you'd expected was to come across Grayson's profile as you'd halfheartedly swiped through an endless myriad of photos. You'd remembered stopping in surprise, your finger ready to continue its spree of rejecting every option, when you'd recognised the chiselled face in the photos as your good friend who you may or may not have had a thing for for the last few years.

Then, before you could second guess yourself, you'd swiped right because what was the harm, right? If he came across your profile and didn't swipe back, he'd be none the wiser. He could go on with his life, blissfully ignorant about the way he made your heart skip a beat every time his eyes crinkled when he smiled and Maya could stop harassing you about never trying. Win-win situation.

You just hadn't been expecting to be told it was a match. And you knew he'd probably matched back because he'd thought it'd be a funny joke between friends. 'Remember that time we both matched on Bumble?' 'Yeah, hilarious.' By then you'd obviously had to message him because not messaging him would have definitely made things awkward. So you'd sent a casual message to him, laughing about the situation and the joint embarrassment of discovering each other's dating profiles and somehow, you'd both kept chatting.

"A few days ago, I guess," you finally conceded when the weight of her expectant gaze proved too much.

"And you didn't tell me? I'm hurt." She pouted at you in mock offence before patting the sofa cushion next to her. "Come on, get up here so I can psychoanalyse these messages properly."

Sighing in resignation, you pushed yourself off of the floor and flopped down onto the sofa, crossing your arms as you watched her scroll through the conversation.

"Holy shit, you guys are hardcore flirting!"

You felt your cheeks warm at her exclamation even as you tried to keep your face neutral. "It's not like that."

"Are you kidding me? 'Can't believe we matched haha.' 'How could I turn down the chance to talk to a pretty girl?' 'You're not so bad yourself.' Are you seriously trying to tell me you're not flirting?" She cast you an exasperated glance before gluing her eyes back to the screen. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing anxiously as you let her finish her investigating in silence. The minutes dragged on but you let out a sigh of relief when she tossed your phone back to you, fumbling to catch it and pull it close to your chest.

You looked back to Maya who was staring at you with a finely arched eyebrow and far too much amusement.

"What?""You're genuinely going to tell me you're not flirting? To my face?"

"We're just messing around. We found each other on a dating app and we're just playing along. It's ironic flirting," you explained with as much casualness you could summon.

"Uh huh," she drawled out, unconvinced. "No, what's ironic is that I signed you up to this dating app for the express purpose of helping you move on from Grayson and you've somehow managed to completely negate that."

You pouted at her. "I thought you signed me up because you thought it was time I met a 'nice boy' so I could stop third wheeling you and Josh."

A roll of her eyes. "Yeah, a nice boy who wasn't Grayson. Gotta give you props for that. When you want something, you don't quit."

She yelled out when the cushion you'd been leaning on made contact with her smug face.

"Shut up. I didn't exactly plan for this. Plus, like I've told you a hundred times now, it's not like that." You sighed when she fixed you with a sceptical look, dropping your head back onto the couch cushion. "I'm not just saying that to be cute or coy or whatever. I genuinely do think he's just trying to be funny. Plus, he kind of has that casual thing going with Emily so I doubt he's looking for anything serious."

"Er, yeah, no, he doesn't." You lifted your head, confused as you took in the sight of your best friend who at least had the decency to look a little apologetic. "Liam told me their thing ended a good while ago."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"'Cause you would've gone straight back to pining for him from a distance, never having the guts to do anything because you didn't think there was a chance. And, I love you, babe, but to be completely honest, I didn't think there was much of a chance either. Except now, you're both flirting with each other so I'm telling you to go for it!"

"There's nothing to go for!" you exclaimed, trying to burrow yourself further into the sofa.

"So what's your 'plan'? Just continue to flirt with him 'ironically' forever?" You narrowed your eyes at her hands making air quotes.

"No," you said pointedly, rolling your eyes. "I'm just going to wait until I see him at Liam's this weekend and then we can laugh over it in person and move on."

The sound of a notification cut off whatever she was about to say next and you grinned in victory at the sight of her mouth snapping shut. Your relief was short lived as you read the words on your phone screen, your stomach twisting into nervous knots.

"Change of plans," you managed to get out, scanning over the words again just to make sure you'd read them right the first time. "He, erm, wants to meet for dinner tomorrow."

…..

"Oh my god," you hissed into your phone, ducking your head low as you stepped past a middle aged couple dressed to the nines. "This place is ridiculous. I can't do this."

"What? Ridiculous how?" Maya asked. You mumbled an apology as you narrowly avoided ploughing into a pretty girl in a dress that definitely cost more than your salary this month.

"You know I'm a feminist and a strong supporter of splitting the bill but, holy shit, Grayson better offer to pay or at least have an amazing discount code because I'm pretty sure I cannot afford a starter from this place, let alone a whole meal."

"Oh. That kind of ridiculous."

"Yeah. I'm not built for places like this. I completely panicked like an idiot when the valet guy offered to park my shitty little car and said no so I had to park like 10 minutes away. And now my feet are swollen from these stupid heels." You huffed, digging a finger into the neckline of your dress and tugging at it to try and alleviate the tightness in your chest. "And this stupid dress is way too tight."

"Shut up!" You froze, taken aback by your best friend yelling down the phone at you. "Stop with the rambling and the overanalysing and the panicking. Actually, just stop with the thinking. Turn your dense brain off for two minutes and listen to me. I know you think you look overdressed and like you're trying too hard for a fake date but you look stunning. If it is a fake date, he's going to wish it was real. And I know you're nervous and you feel awkward but I also know it's going to go great. Worst case scenario, you spend some time with your friend who you really get along with and eat some good food. So stop stressing. It is going to be fine. Okay?"

You took in a deep breath, letting her reassurances slowly but surely calm you down.

"Okay?" she repeated.

"Okay."

She hummed in satisfaction. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," you admitted with a small smile.

"Good. Now go and enjoy your ironic date," she teased and, just like that, she'd hung up on you. You rolled your eyes and stuffed your phone into the astonishingly small handbag she'd insisted you wear.

In the time you'd been talking to Maya, you'd crossed the car park, managing to avoid an embarrassing encounter with the valet guy who you'd turned down and you were now stood a few steps from the large glass doors that marked the entrance. You ran your hands over your hair, your stomach rolling with nerves as you tucked away any stray strands.

"All you have to do is be chill and enjoy. Enjoy your ironic date," you muttered to yourself, echoing Maya's words. Straightening your back, you walked through the doors.

"Good evening, madame." You'd barely stepped inside before a server was at your side, smiling politely at you. "Do you have a reservation?"

You offered a nervous smile, resisting the urge to fix your hair. "I think so. Grayson Dolan?"

"Ah, yes, Mr Dolan is waiting for you. If you'd like to follow me, madame."

"Madame," you found yourself mouthing as soon as the she had turned her back, testing out the foreign word before you could stop yourself as you trailed after her.

Your breath hitched as you turned the corner, your eyes landing on Grayson sitting at the table, his fingers playing with the napkin. His button up was snug, showing off his broad shoulders and well-built arms in a way that had your mouth go a little dry. He'd changed up his usual floppy hair, gelling it back and it bought even more attention to his chiselled face.

He looked like a model, you realised. It wasn’t a startling revelation. Grayson always looked beautiful, the perfect mix of sharp and soft, but in that moment, he looked like he would’ve belonged better on the cover of a magazine.

He glanced up towards the entrance and his eyes landed on you and, God, if there was anything you loved more than Grayson unintentionally smouldering, it was Grayson smiling. You felt your heart skip a beat as he pushed himself to his feet, napkin forgotten, his full attention on you as his eyes raked down your form. He was a breathing work of art. Michaelangelo would’ve never glanced twice at David if he’d laid eyes on Grayson.

It all just cemented the fact that this was definitely not a real date because how could Maya ever think that someone like him would go for someone like you?

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself as you came to a stop in front of him, the waiter offering you a final polite smile before she walked away.

“Hi," you managed to get out before he was taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips, keeping his eyes locked with yours. You felt heat dance across your cheeks, unable to look away.

"Hi," he echoed, his warm touch lingering for a few beats before he let go of your hand. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," you said softly. God, you'd have to resign to dealing with the discomfort of a burning face for the entirety of this evening if he kept this up. "You look pretty good."

"Pretty good, huh? I'll take it," he teased, eyes sparkling with his usual humour before he nodded towards the table. "Shall we?"

You nodded, stepping towards your chair before he abruptly moved towards you, pulling it out for you. You offered him a shy smile in thanks as you let him push your chair in. He'd clearly decided to fully commit to this thing, ticking off every date cliché you could think of.

"Sorry, I didn't come to pick you up," he said once he was seated. "Ethan and I had a thing across the city and I totally forgot until this morning."

You waved him off, trying to settle in your chair which was definitely more pretty than it was practical. "Don't worry about it. We could've rescheduled if you had a long day today."

He shook his head fondly. "Best way to end a long day is with a beautiful girl."

You ducked your head, the contents of your empty plate suddenly demanding your attention.

"Shall we order?" you prompted, reaching for a menu desperately. "I'm starving."

"When are you not?" he chuckled as he pulled his own menu towards him. He stopped abruptly, looking up at you. "You really do look beautiful."

The more he flashed that crooked smile at you, the more you realised that Maya was wrong. The worst case scenario wasn't an enjoyable evening with your friend. It was said friend realising that you liked him a lot more than you should. It was easy to flirt over text. He couldn't see the way his words affected you over text. He couldn't hear that your compliments were more genuine than a light joke. Sitting in front of him as he smiled at you and pinned you down with dark eyes, it was impossible to play this game with him without him realising exactly how you felt and it was so unfair that he seemed to be so at ease with this all, the perfect epitome of cool confidence- a stark contrast to the puddle of nerves you felt like.

"Thanks, Gray," you managed to get out, your eyes glued to the menu. It took a few seconds for your brain to clear enough for you to realise that the menu you were reading was essentially gibberish. You frowned, scanning the list for a single item you could recognise.

Starters, you could deal with, you decided as you identified garlic bread before miserably remembering that you definitely couldn't afford both a main and a starter from a place like this. The mains, however, were a different story.

You glanced up at Grayson, who was poring over his own menu.

"What are you getting?" you asked him, hoping he'd be able to offer some insight.

"Still looking. You?"

"Same here," you said dejectedly, sinking a little further into your seat. You eyed your tiny bag resting on the table before making your decision and trying to extract your phone from it as discretely as possible. Placing it in your lap, obscured from Grayson's view, you began the tedious task of searching your options.

"Are you ready to order?" Your head jerked up at the sudden appearance of the waiter at your table. You looked up at Grayson who raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I think so. I'll have, uh, that." You pointed to the potato based dish you'd decided seemed like a safe option before Grayson was telling the waiter his choice.

"Any starters?"

"I'm good." You smiled politely.

"We'll have some garlic bread," Grayson said, sending you a knowing smile.

You both handed over your menus to the waiter, thanking her.

"How was your day?" Grayson asked after he'd filled both of your glasses with water.

"Huh?" you managed in response, your brain operating at suboptimal speed thanks to your nerves.

"How was your day?"

You groaned, forcing yourself to sound normal when you answered. "Long. Boring."

"Wanna talk about it?" he offered sympathetically but you shook him off.

"Not really much to talk about. I just need to find a job that's not so dull it makes me wanna peel my eyelids off," you said casually. Grayson let out a surprised laugh at your declaration. "Sorry, I'm being whiny. It's not a bad job. Just dull. Really, really dull."

"No, it's fine. Complain away. It just surprises me sometimes." You looked at him curiously and he shrugged. "E and I obviously complain sometimes about what we do too. But the one thing I can never complain about is it being dull."

"Lucky you guys," you said with a joking pout and he chuckled. "Speaking of, what did you guys get up to today?"

You reclined into your seat as he launched into an account of his and Ethan's day, his eyes bright and hands moving animatedly. To your pleasant surprise, you felt yourself start to relax as his deep, steady voice worked wonders on your nerves. You could feel your pounding heart start to slow, the tight band around your chest loosening, as you listened to him.

"That sounds amazing," you admitted, going to take a sip from your glass and frowning when you realised it was empty.

"Yeah, I'm so pumped. We're going to wait until we've almost finished though before announcing it," he said as you reached for the jug of water. You weren't sure exactly how you did it but the next thing you knew, the jug was tipping over.

"Shit!" you exclaimed as Grayson jumped in his seat, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of cold water. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

You pulled your napkin from your plate, paying no attention to one of your many forks clattering to the ground as you leant across the table and tried to dab at every wet spot you could see.

"It's fine," he said once the shock had worn off.

"I'm so sorry," you apologised again, wiping uselessly as a result of the table being a major barrier to your ability to reach him.

"Y/N."

"Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Y/N." You stilled when his hand wrapped around yours. "It's okay. Accidents happen. Plus, it was water. No harm, no foul. Okay?"

You offered him a small smile as he gently pried the napkin from your hands.

That was it. Any tiny semblance of composure that you'd had up until then disappeared. Grayson continued to be an absolute gentleman about it like always but you cringed internally every time you caught him squirming and subtly adjusting his clothes. He tried to engage you in conversation but it was like your brain had decided this was more than it could deal with and simply shortcircuited.

The upside to being in an expensive restaurant was that your food arrived fairly quickly and you welcomed it as an excuse to not talk as you busied yourself with chewing. The downside was the judgey side eye the woman sitting on the table next to you sent as you picked up one of the three knives in front of you. Hastily, you'd swapped it for another one, slumping in relief when she'd sniffed, seemingly appeased, and turned back to her own meal.

"We could get a dessert to split if you want?" he offered once the table was cleared of your plates, already scanning the dessert menu.

"No!" you blurted, dismissing his suggestion immediately. He looked up at you in confusion at your outburst, dark eyebrows furrowed. "I'm really full."

"You're never full," he pointed out. He turned the menu half towards you, trying to change your mind by appealing to your sweet tooth. "They have a brownie with caramel ice cream."

You shook your head and his face fell.

"Sorry, Grayson," you apologised sincerely, shifting in your seat. "I'm just stuffed."

"It's no biggie," he dismissed with a smile. You felt horrible as he tried to hide his disappointment, feeling sorry for him for having to put up with your bizarre behaviour tonight without even dessert as consolation, but you were itching to get away from him so you could finally breathe properly again. Sharing dessert like a couple from a romcom was more than you were equipped to handle.

The minutes seemed to drag on as you both waited for the bill to arrive. Grayson, being Grayson, tried his best to engage you in conversation just like he had been doing the whole night, realised you were struggling, and resigned to telling you a ridiculous story about him and Ethan, allowing you to just nod and hum at the right moments.

Finally, the silver tray was placed on the middle of your table

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, pulling the bill towards him. You opened your mouth to protest but he'd cut you off, anticipating your argument. "You can just pay for my next McDonald's."

"Thanks, Grayson."

You had never appreciated the cold before but you were grateful for the sudden change in temperature as you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool air clearing your mind.

"I had a really nice time," you began your usual post-date spiel as he surveyed the car park, itching to say bye to him.

"Me too," he said, flashing you a smile before going back to scanning the car park.

"Gray-"

"I don't see your car?"

You cringed, reminded of your encounter with the valet person. "Yeah, I parked outside."

"Oh, okay. Come on, let's go," he declared and you frowned in confusion.

"Do you need a ride?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, I'm just walking you to your car."

"You don't have to. It's really far," you tried to wave him off but he'd already fallen into step beside you, waiting patiently for you to lead the way.

You never thought that there'd be a day when you could not wait to get rid of Grayson but here you were, moving as fast as you could without it being defined as jogging so that you could shorten the journey as much as possible.

"Ta da!" You gestured towards your car after ten minutes, keys already in your hand. "Here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed with a small smile.

"So, yeah... I had a really good time," you said.

"Me too."

"I'm really sorry about your shirt," you added, glancing at the now-dry button down.

"It was just water," he brushed off your apology.

"Well, I still felt bad. Like I said, I had a good time so thank you." You gestured towards your car. "And thanks for walking with me. I will see you around."

He stared at you for a few beats and his heavy gaze made your stomach twist.

"See you around," he said finally and then he was stepping towards you.

Before you could think about it, you'd stuck your hand out rigidly, stopping him in his tracks when your fingers overshot and poked his chest. He glanced down in confusion at where your hand jutted out clumsily between you.

Oh my God, what is wrong with you? You hug Grayson all of the time.

And because the universe hated you, instead of opening up a hole beneath your feet like you desperately wanted, you had to endure the awkward moments that stretched between you too before he finally wrapped his hand around yours, with a chuckle.

"Yeah, goodnight, then, I guess," he repeated, a bemused half smile dancing across his lips.

You opened your mouth to say something to alleviate the tension, decided the situation was unsalvageable and snapped it shut again. Giving him a final jerky wave, you flung yourself into your car and pulled off into the road. You watched as his figure grew smaller in your rear view mirror before disappearing from sight. You sagged with relief, thankful to have back the ability to breathe.

You glanced up at your drained reflection in the mirror, shaking your head despondently. "I am a fucking idiot."

 …..

 "ARGHHH!" you screamed into the cushion in frustration. You felt Maya's hand on your lower back, a comforting weight as she rubbed slow circles. "I suck."

She chuckled, the sound barely audible over your groaning.

"It was awful," you whined, finally pulling your face away and sitting up. You kept your eyes on your lap, trying to discretely wipe away the little puddle of drool that must have escaped your mouth from the cushion before she noticed.

 "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

You glared at her futile attempt to make you feel better. "You weren't there. It really was. He looked insanely beautiful and my brain shortcircuited and I panicked because I was convinced I'd make it really obvious that I thought he was insanely beautiful. So I shut down. I literally shut down, Maya. I couldn't hold a single decent conversation. I spilled water on him! I was just a major fucking idiot. It sucked, sucked, sucked!"

She sighed, offering you a corner of the blanket she had over herself. "Breathe and then, tell me all about it."

Groaning, you buried yourself into the soft material and began to narrate your disaster of an evening.

"And then he went in to hug me and I stuck out my hand and then I jumped into my car and sped away," you finished with a wince, burying your face into your hands.

Maya's silence was all the confirmation you needed that you hadn't been exaggerating.

"I told you it was bad."

"It doesn't sound great," she admitted eventually, each word carefully spoken as she tried not to freak you out further. "But it's not the end of the world."

"No, just the end of my ability to ever look Grayson in the eyes again,"

"He thinks I'm a fucking weirdo."

She rolled her eyes. "Everyone you've ever interacted with for more than 30 minutes knows you're a fucking weirdo."

You let out a very questionable sound of frustration. "You don't get it. It's not that. Now, he thinks I'm some weirdo who's so in love with him that I can't function like a normal human being."

"That's all true though," she pointed out.

"You don't- He- It's embarrassing," you settled on finally. "He's probably gone home to laugh with Ethan about the fact that someone like me could ever think they had a chance with someone like him. I just- I feel so stupid and embarrassed."

"Hey, hey, come here," Maya cooed softly, surprised by the sudden sight of your glossy eyes. She pulled you in against her shoulder as you blinked rapidly, trying to banish your tears. "It's okay."

You took in a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before you sat up. "Sorry."

"You don't need to say sorry, you silly billy. But you do need to listen to me. It's not a big deal." You opened your mouth to contest that but she shut you up with a glare. "Listen, okay? It's not a big deal. So what if Grayson thinks you like him? He'll be flattered that someone as lovely and kind and intelligent as you thinks that someone like him is attractive. I'd be over the moon if I thought someone half as amazing as you felt like that about me. Plus, Grayson is a good guy. He's going to be nice about it. So, I know it seems like a big deal right now but I promise you it isn't and you should trust me because I'm one of the wisest people I know."

"Shut up," you mumbled but even now, you could feel the knot in your stomach start to subside. Maya always knew how to make you feel better. "But, also, thank you."

"Anytime." She grinned at you before slumping into you, remote in hand as she loaded up netflix on the television. "So does this mean you'll come to Liam's?"

Absolutely no way.

"We'll see, " you said to tide her over for now.

"Hmm. What do you wanna watch?"

…..

"I'm gonna go home," you announced for the tenth time, pulling your arm free from Maya's as she stepped out of the elevator, unable to force yourself to follow her.

She sighed, turning around to face you, head cocked in her best impression of a mother who was . "No, you're not."

"I can't do it. It's way too soon and too awkward," you protested, arms crossed over your chest.

"No, what's awkward is you not turning up to Liam's after your and Grayson's dinner. It'll just make him think that you think it was a bigger deal than it was and it'll be even worse when you have to see him next time," she parroted the very reasonable explanation she'd been saying to you for the last few days.

"What if I just never see him again?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "If you want to find a whole new group of friends just coz you're a little bitch."

She remained nonplussed as you glared at her.

"Come on now. Yank on those big girl panties I know you have somewhere and let's go." With that, she spun around and headed to Liam's apartment door. Sending her a final glare, you followed, knowing that she was speaking sense, as always.

You felt a soft hand wrap around yours, giving it a light squeeze.

"You've got this," she whispered and you were filled with love for your best friend who managed to always be there for you with the perfect balance of tough love and soft encouragement. You just about had time to squeeze her hand back before the door swung open.

"Hey!" You were enveloped in a hug from Liam before he was ushering you inside. "Come in!"

"Hey, Liam! We bought drinks." Maya held up the bag in her hand. "Where do you want them?"

"That's great. Kitchen would probably be good?"

"Sounds good. I'll be back."

You didn’t even have time to  think to protest before she was disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Sighing, you took the opportunity to survey the room. You weren't sure if you had some internal Grayson radar but your eyes immediately landed on him as he talked to two people you didn't really know that well. He looked beautiful as always, eyes crinkling as he laughed at something.

Before you could decide whether you wanted to go talk to him now or give yourself some time to build up some courage, his eyes landed on you and he beamed, jumping off his place on the sofa.

"There you are!"

As big of a treat it had been seeing Grayson dressed up, you felt your heart fill with affection at the sight of him in a normal t-shirt, silky hair bouncing as he took two long strides towards you, pulling you into his warm side. You relaxed against him, wrapping an arm around his back to return the gesture, his shirt soft against your cheek. He squeezed your shoulder gently and you felt the knot in your stomach dissolve as he grinned down at you.

Of course, Grayson wasn't going to be a dick about your situation.

"Hi," you said shyly, the corners of your own mouth tugging up before you could help it, any attempt to play it cool forgotten.

"Hi," he echoed, giving you a final, gentle squeeze before releasing you and you immediately missed his warmth. "Late as usual, I see."

"I'm guessing you were one of the first to arrive? Up and dressed at 7am," you teased and he snorted.

"I wish. Ethan was being annoying as usual with his clothes. He likes to spend an hour looking through his wardrobe like he's actually going to wear something different for once."

You shook your head fondly. "Typical, Ethan."

"You had a chance to grab some snacks yet?" You shook your head and Grayson nodded towards the kitchen. "Let's go, then.” 

Before you could move off, there was a yell from behind you. 

"Hey, Y/N!" You turned at the sight of your name, barely having time to recognise the tall brunette before Ethan was crashing into you.

"Hi, E," you laughed, your words muffled by his shoulder in your mouth.

"Brave of you to show up after breaking poor Grayson's heart."

You squirmed uncomfortably at Ethan's words, glancing sideways at Grayson to try and gauge just how much he'd told his brother about your disastrous night but he was avoiding your eyes. Enough apparently for Ethan to make fun of you. You couldn't quite decide if you were mortified or grateful that it apparently was a casual enough deal for Ethan to feel comfortable poking fun at you.

"He's been a mess, Y/N," Ethan continued, glancing at his brother with mock sympathy. "Really let himself go. I mean, look at this scruff."

Grayson jerked back, batting away Ethan's hand as he tried to stroke Grayson's stubbled cheeks.

"Cut it out! Ignore my idiot brother," he addressed you now with an apologetic smile. "I'll get over it. Don't let him bully you into feeling bad."

You blinked in confusion, feeling as though you were missing some pivotal part of the conversation. "Feel bad about what?"

Ethan choked on a laugh, looking between the two of you with wide eyes. "Savage, dude. So unremarkable- she doesn't even remember rejecting you."

"Seriously, fuck off." Grayson shoved his brother's shoulder now but you didn't miss the red that had started to bloom across his cheeks.

"Grayson, you sure you went on a date with Y/N? Sure you weren't just dreaming again?"

"We did go on a date," you jumped in to Grayson's defence. "Well, kind of."Ethan raised his eyebrows, a silent invitation for you to continue.

"It wasn't a real date," you explained, shifting your weight between your feet.

"Grayson probably told you how we matched on Bumble and we just played along a little."

"Oh wow." Grayson's eyes were wide in disbelief as stared at you. "Are you serious?"

Your fingers pulled on the tab of the can, twisting it uneasily as you nodded hesitantly, feeling sure Grayson was going to call you out on your pathetic attempts to hide your feelings that evening, pointing out that you had definitely treated it like a real date with your constant heart eyes at him. You wished for a second time that the universe would open up a you-sized hole, or at least provide a good distraction if the whole hole appearing in the middle of Liam's apartment was scientifically implausible.

"You have Bumble?" That was apparently the part that Ethan chose to focus on as he smirked at his brother. "Knew you couldn't find girls without any help."

"Ethan! Shut! Up! Y/N, did you-"

Maybe the universe didn't hate you. Maybe it just had a bit of a delayed response, you thought, as Liam chose that moment to run up and sling his arms around the boys' necks, demanding that they 'bring some of that twin power over to the beer pong table.'

Grayson opened his mouth, looking like he might say something but then Liam was calling his name again and he let himself be dragged away with a final apologetic glance over his shoulder.

You exhaled slowly, taking a large gulp of your coke.

That was fun.

….. 

You laughed, throwing your head back as Maya's boyfriend Josh told you about another one of Maya's failed attempt to cook dinner for the both of them as Maya hit him playfully.

"It wasn't that bad!"

"You can't replace the sugar with salt and then say it wasn't that bad," he pointed out, pulling her in to settle under his arm.

"In my defence, I'd had a really long day. I was half delirious when I made those pancakes."

"Sure." She swatted at him half-heartedly."It's your fault," she grumbled. "I could cook just fine at uni and now, you've spoiled me with all your cooking and I'm out of practice."

Josh turned to you for validation of Maya's claim and you shrugged. "If you consider instant noodles a meal, then, yeah, sure."

Maya's shriek of indignation had you laughing as you ducked to dodge the popcorn kernel she'd thrown at you. "It wasn't just instant noodles! I made pasta sometimes!"

"Like five times in three years," you pointed out, jerking back as she tried to push you off of where you were perched on the armchair of the sofa. "You know I'm not exaggerating."

"Yeah, yeah. I just love it when my boyfriend and best friend gang up on me. It's so fun..." she trailed off, her eyes fixed over your shoulder. You turned around on instinct to see Grayson approaching you, shirt speckled with what you assumed were droplet stains from the beer.

"Hey, can we talk?"

He motioned his head towards the little terrace and you nodded, shrugging on your hoodie before following him, heart thudding in your chest. It was surprisingly empty as you stepped out, devoid of the constant line of smokers you'd seen out here the whole night and you wondered for a moment if he'd asked them to vacate the area so he could talk to you alone.

"How'd beer pong go?" you asked as you settled with your back against the balcony railing.

"Liam and I crushed Ethan and Jake," he said proudly, coming to a stop in front of you.

"Always knew you were the better twin," you joked and he chuckled.

"Good."

The two of you fell quiet, the only sound being the buzz of chatter and music coming from the apartment.

"You wanted to talk?" you prompted. 

"Yeah, I just wanted to clear the air I guess," he said hesitantly.

"I didn't think that there was any air to clear."

"Yeah, I didn't either. I just thought you didn't feel the same, which was fair enough, and I thought we could just keep being friends. But then Ethan started being a dick and you said some kinda strange things so I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page," he trailed off before tipping his head back and groaning. "God, I sound so lame."

You'd spent the last few days anxiously going over how tonight was going to go and you thought you'd imagined almost every scenario, most of them including Grayson and his friends laughing at you from a corner as he told them what a lovesick idiot you'd been your whole date. You hadn't once imagined your evening going like this. "What do you mean you thought I didn't feel the same?"

"I've been rejected before," he said matter of factly but even in the dim light you could see the blush on his cheeks. "It's no big deal. It's not your fault if you don't feel it."

"You thought I was rejecting you?" you asked, completely taken aback by Grayson's interpretation of the evening.

He shrugged helplessly. "Well, yeah. You shut down any of my attempts to talk and you looked like you couldn't wait to get away."

"I thought I'd weird you out if I flirted with you or anything like that," you admitted.

"Why would I be weirded out by you flirting with me on a date I asked you to go on?"

"I thought it was an ironic date," you muttered by way of explanation.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you cleared your throat, feeling more stupid by the second. "Huh?"

"I thought you matched with me to be funny.  And then I thought you were flirting as a little joke. No big deal, right? We matched, might as well . And then you suggested dinner and I just thought you didn't mean anything by it. Like an 'I'm your friend and I found you on a dating website so it'd be funny if we played along to be ironic' thing."

"Played along by asking you on a date?" he clarified, dark eyebrows arched.

"An ironic date," you repeated lamely.

"You have a weird sense of humour," he said finally. "Or you seem to think I have a weird sense of humour."

You let out a short laugh, tugging on your hoodie string as you twirled it around the tip of your finger. "Mix of both probably."

"Did you want it to be an ironic date?"

Your head jerked up, your hoodie strings no longer capturing your attention. "Huh?"

"Did you want it to be an ironic date?" he repeated, his voice strangely even, each word spoken with care.

"I wouldn't have been able to handle the pressure of being dressed up and eating at a place like that if I'd thought it was a real date."

He chuckled softly, pushing the hair flopping over his brow back.

"Yeah, it wasn't really my scene either. I had no idea what I ordered for my main until it came," he admitted.

"I googled the options under the table," you reassured and it was enough to coax a genuine laugh from him, the sound loud and wonderful in the quiet night.

"Of course, you did." He shook his head fondly. "I just didn't want you to think I was half-assing it."

"I definitely did not think that. It just wasn't very… us." He hummed in agreement, accepting your assessment with a nod.

It was silent for a few beats.

"I say we just get pizza and watch one of those crime documentaries you're always going on about on our next date," he suggested finally as a solution.

"Next date?" you asked levelly, the corners of your lips twitching upwards despite your attempt to keep your face neutral.

"Yeah. If you want." He shrugged, dragging a hand across his stubble, and there was something so endearing about him trying to act nonchalant about the fact he wanted another date and that he knew what you liked to watch that all the willpower in the world wasn't enough to hold back your smile.

"Can't wait," you told him sweetly and his shoulders sagged in relief- almost imperceptible, and you may not have even noticed if he hadn't been the guy you'd been a little bit in love with for years.

"Cool."

"Pizza's on me," you reminded him and he chuckled, conceding.

"This is a real date, by the way," he chimed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned down easily at you. "In case it wasn't clear enough this time around either."

"I know!" 

"Ironic date, my ass," he huffed good-naturedly as he rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry!" you exclaimed, giggling as you pulled lightly on the strings of your hoodie, feeling at home in his familiar presence.

The sound of laughter died away and you felt giddy as you stared at each other with matching grins.

"Now that that's sorted, if I try to kiss you again, are you going to jab me in the ribs again?" he asked teasingly, cocking his head.

You felt your cheeks burn as you tried to defend yourself. "I didn't jab, I elegantly offered-."

You cut yourself off as Grayson leaned in abruptly, blinking in surprise as your vision was flooded with his handsome face. You froze when his hand wrapped around yours, letting him gently tug it to rest on the side of his torso, in the same spot that it'd been that evening.

"Last chance to poke," he warned, warm brown eyes watching you intently. 

"I'm good," you said with a breathy laugh, your fingers curling into his shirt.

"Good."

The tip of his nose bumped yours gently before his lips were pressing against yours, warmth spreading all the way down to your toes.

Okay, so maybe Maya was right, and it had been exactly what it had looked like. But- you thought, giggling as Grayson playfully pulled you closer by your hoodie strings- you didn't mind being wrong this time.

Thanks a bunch for reading!

Click here to see the prompt list and here if you’d like to check out my masterlist for some reason!

[tayegi]

New Rules Ch. 2 (m)

Word Count: 7,563

“So what you’re trying to say is… when you slept over… the two of you actually just slept?” you ask Mijoo in utter disbelief the next morning.

She sheepishly nods, “Jimin is a complete gentleman. He offered me his bed for the night and crashed on Jungkook’s until Namjoon finally got the texts and let us out in the morning… I’m going to kill you for that, by the way.”

You nonchalantly wave her off, “Yeah, yeah. You got to make out with him though, so you should be thanking me.”

Her eyes pop open in surprise, “Wait, you saw that?!”

You laugh at her expression, “You guys looked like shy middle schoolers pecking at each other—it was barely a kiss. No need to be embarrassed.”

“Ugh. You peeping tom!” Mijoo exclaims as her face flushes a lovely shade of pink, “I can’t believe you did that!”

“It wasn’t intentional! We were just checking on you to see if you were alive, and accidentally saw you two kissing. That’s all!”

“Wait… we?” Mijoo repeats in a quiet voice, “Oh my god… Jeon Jungkook was there too?!”

“…Maybe?”

Your pretty roommate inhales deeply through her nose before responding, “The only way I’ll let that slide is if you tell me you and Jungkook were so inspired by us that you decided to get it on too.”

You nervously chuckle, marveling at the uncanny accuracy of her prediction, “That’ll never happen… But anyways, back to you. Are you and Jimin a thing now?”

This makes her hastily shake her head, curling in on herself with embarrassment as she instantly forgets about grilling you, “No, of course not,” she says in a hushed voice, “It was just one kiss… You know it probably means nothing…”

Her sudden crestfallen expression makes your heart sink in your chest. You sigh as you plop down on her bed and soothingly rub her back, “Jimin isn’t the type of guy to just make out with random girls at parties, Mijoo.”

She peeks through her fingers in interest, “He’s not?”

“Of course not. He’s not a dog like… Jeon Jungkook, for instance,” you say with a little wrinkle of your nose, “I know you’ve never met one before, so you probably can’t recognize one, but Jimin is genuinely a really nice guy. He doesn’t want to just mess around. If he’s kissed you, then he truly cares about you, hon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I was friends with him for a lot longer than you’ve even known him,” you remind her, gut twisting when the reminder of all your lost opportunities comes rushing back. You quickly suppress the memories and plaster on a grin, “Trust me, Mijoo. He’s not the type… What happened exactly before he kissed you?”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs as she awkwardly plays with a loose thread in the bedspread, “One moment we were laughing about something random, when he suddenly goes dead quiet and stares at me with this weird look in his eye. So I get all self-conscious and ask him what’s wrong… But he only tells me that I’m pretty… and then… and then he kisses me.” The last part comes out as a squeak and she claps both hands over her mouth in adorable embarrassment.

You take a moment to let her words sink under your skin. It’s all true, though. The way your roommate looks, blushing and demure with embarrassment. She’s very pretty. You can see why Jimin has fallen for her.

You abruptly rise to your feet, nearly bumping into Mijoo’s petite frame in the process, “He really likes you, Mijoo. Don’t let him slip away… You’ll only regret it.” And with that, you turn to walk out the door.

“Where are you going?” She calls out in alarm.

“Bathroom,” you gruffly call back. And it’s not a lie. You lock yourself in the nearest stall for a long time, waiting until you can finally breathe again.

“Oh god, it’s here! The party is in three hours!” Mijoo bursts out, nearly in hysterics, the moment the two of you finally come home from your lengthy group project meet up for your anthropology class in the library.

She’s been on edge all week, ever since Jimin invited her to beta sigma tau’s semi-annual costume party. This time, the ultra-classy theme is “CEOs and office hoes.” On any other day, this is the kind of party you would protest, running around with a half dozen other of your feminist friends as you collect signatures for a boycott. But alas, Mijoo is your best friend and you must suffer this indignity for her.

“Calm down, hon,” you lazily call out to her as you lounge on your bed, “Just put on a button down shirt and we’re fine.”

“But the theme is office hoes,” she empathizes, “And all my button downs are too conservative!”

“Wait… what makes you think that we’re supposed to be the hoes?” you ask her in suspicion.

She freezes at your accusatory tone, “That’s not what I meant,” she quickly backtracks, “It’s just that… You know how these parties are. It’s a joke! Please don’t take it seriously.”

“Fuck that.”

“____, come on, it’s not a big—”

“Fuck that,” you reply with more emphasis, “I’m going as a goddamn CEO.”

Mijoo sighs deeply, but she knows better than to try to convince you otherwise when you’re determined, “Can you at least be a slutty CEO?”

“Nope. I’m going to wear my interview suit.”

“Oh… no…”

A few hours later, the two of you stand on the front porch of the BTS frat house, nosily arguing with the designated bouncer of the night to try to get into the party. But he crosses his beefy arms over his chest and holds firm.

“Nuh uh. No way you’re taking one step into this house.”

“Oh come on!” Mijoo whines, “We followed dress code and we were invited by a brother! Why won’t you let us in?”

“You can come in,” he says, taking one look at her short skirt and crop top combo before making up his mind, “But not her.”

You bristle at the way his stubby finger is pointed directly in your face, “You better remove that finger, bud, or I’ll rip it off.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re dressed like a pastor, ma’am. I can’t let you in.”

“A pastor?” you repeat in utter indignation, “I look sharp!” You exclaim, smoothing out the wrinkles in your three-piece suit and adjusting your perfectly knotted tie.

The bouncer makes a face of distaste, “Try Lambda down the street,” he offers, “They aren’t as strict with their dress code.”

“But we were invited to this party,” Mijoo attempts to cajole him, “Can’t you let us off this one time?”

“I highly doubt that one of our brothers would invite you to this,” he says, eyes fixated on you and the way you tinker with your cuff links.

“Please let us in?” Mijoo has resorted to begging at this point, “We have to get into this party! We’ll do whatever you want!”

“Like hell we will!” You irritably interrupt, “Listen here, you punk ass bitch kid,” you growl as you roughly shove a finger into the middle of his chest, “Let us in right now or I swear to god, I’m going to rip off your fucking pea-sized balls and shove them up your—”

“Ah, ____, is that you?!” A boisterous voice interrupts you before you can complete your threat.

You whirl around in surprise to find a familiar face poking out from the front door, “Jungkook? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I thought I heard a familiar screeching,” he laughs, skipping out from the house to playfully swing an arm around your neck, “And you’ve brought Mijoo too. Wonderful!”

You bristle at his faux jovial mood and his unnecessary physical contact, but Mijoo brightens at the sight of him, “Jungkook!” She exclaims in delight, “Thank god you’re here. Please tell your friend here that we were invited to this party.”

“Friend?” Jungkook’s brow furrows in confusion and he seems to take in the sight of the bouncer for the first time, “Ah, this little guy is no friend of mine. He’s just a Freshman rushing our frat this year… But he’s clearly not doing his duty well tonight,” he says, taking a long step forward to tower over the younger man.

As expected, the pledge cowers at his approach, “S-sorry Jungkook. I didn’t know they were with you.”

Jungkook’s face darkens, “What did you call me?”

“S-sir!” he instantly corrects himself, blanching under Jungkook’s intimidation, “I’m so sorry, sir. Please forgive me.”

At that, Jungkook finally steps back, allowing the frightened Freshman some space. “Fine. I’m letting you off this one time. But if you ever treat these lovely ladies like that again, I think I’ll have to have a word with Namjoon…”

The Freshman boy says nothing, instead gulping and staring down at his shoes.

Jungkook takes another moment to glare at him, before turning to the two of you with his face wreathed in smiles, “Alright, now that that’s taken care of, let’s go have a great time, ladies.”

“Thank you so much, Jungkook,” Mijoo coos, eyelashes batting prettily at him.

But you’re still distracted by the pledge, “Damn right, yogurt slinger,” you snarl at him, “Try me again, and I swear to god, your carrot stick dick is going up your—”

“Let’s get a drink in you,” Jungkook hastily says as he physically hauls you away.

“I wasn’t done!” You complain as you throw off his unwanted hold on your arm.

“You were threatening to castrate a poor teenage boy in the middle of the street,” Jungkook wryly points out.

“He deserved it,” you shoot back.

Mijoo awkwardly clears her throat, “So anyways! Who could use a drink right now?”

But Jungkook doesn’t even spare her a glance, “What are you wearing right now?” he asks, incredulously eyeing you up and down.

You proudly adjust your pinstriped tie, “Don’t I look nice?”

“Yeah. You really do.”

“Wait, what?” Mijoo snaps her neck to gape at Jungkook in disbelief, “Don’t encourage her!”

“What’s the problem? ___’s pretty no matter what she wears.”

Mijoo looks as disturbed as if she’d walked in on her parents having sex, “I can’t deal with this dead sober… I’m going to get a shot, with or without you sappy kids.”

“Ok, go ahead,” Jungkook cheerfully waves her off.

Your jaw drops to the ground in pure astonishment. You’ve never met a man who could disregard your beautiful roommate in such a manner before. This is unexpected to say the least. “Jungkook,” you hiss at him as soon as Mijoo marches away in a huff, “What are you doing?”

“Jimin and Mijoo still aren’t a thing yet,” he whispers back, “If you checked any of your texts, you’d know that I’d been begging you to strategize with me for the next step for an entire week.”

“Wait, you texted me?” you say in bewilderment, “I didn’t get anything.”

“What? Did you change your number?”

“No… Oh wait, that’s because I blocked your number,” you say as realization finally dawns on you.

“You blocked my phone number?!” Jungkook half-shouts at you in indignation, “How could you do that?”

“What? It’s not like I didn’t warn you,” you shrug him off.

“I’ve never had a woman block my number before,” Jungkook says with amusement, “This is a first.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not special, Jeon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my roommate.”

Jungkook’s hand snaps out to grab you before you can move away, “Wait, don’t.”

You stare at the hand around your wrist in distaste, “What?”

Jungkook gestures his chin towards the bar, “Look who’s manning the bar tonight.”

You turn to meet where he’s pointing, and like always, your heart skips a beat when your eyes land on Park Jimin. “Ah,” you say as you swallow to bring saliva to your dry throat, “Good idea.”

“Isn’t it?” he says, beaming when Mijoo freezes in front of Jimin and they awkwardly begin to greet each other.

“Yeah…” You swallow again, “Anyways, don’t get any weird ideas into Mijoo’s mind. She’s already grilling me enough about our imaginary relationship. I can’t stand any more of this.”

“What ideas?” he asks in confusion, “I didn’t give her any ideas.”

You shoot him a pointed look, “You called me pretty in front of her. Even in this,” you say, gesturing to your three-piece suit.

“So what? You are pretty.”

“Look at what I’m wearing!” you exclaim.

“So? How does that change how pretty you are?” he asks with a raised brow. Your face warms a bit, surprised by the insistency of his compliment. But before you can begrudgingly thank him, Jungkook leans in real close so that his lips brush the shell of your ear, “Besides,” he whispers, “It doesn’t matter what you wear… I already know what you look like without your clothes on.”

Instantly, your flattered feelings dissipate and you wrinkle your nose, “Gross.”

“But um…” Jungkook continues, awkwardly scratching at the back of your head, “I hope you know that’s a one-time thing, right?”

“Huh?”

“I hope you’re not going to be too upset if we don’t hang out again… Or if you see me with other girls…” He looks so genuinely concerned that you want to burst out laughing.

“Jeon Jungkook, what are you smoking? Who the hell do you think you are? Of course I don’t give a fuck.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Sure you don’t.”

You laugh at his skeptical tone, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not one of your usual playthings, Jeon. I don’t sleep around with sleazy little fuckbois like you. Last week was just a hoax.”

“What is this ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude of yours?” he snorts, “You weren’t saying this shit that night.”

“I was drunk and confused,” you inform him, “And made a huge mistake. Trust me, it won’t happen again.”

“What? You’re saying you’re too good for me?”

“Oh my god, it’s seriously not like that,” you irritably say, “I’m just not into meaningless sex.”

“Why not?” he asks, brow furrowing like he’s genuinely perplexed, “Are you trying to save it for marriage or some shit?”

“No, of course not. I just want to be with someone who genuinely cares about me and vice versa.”

“Whoa,” Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in exaggerated surprise, “Who would’ve expected the infamous ice queen to be so sappy?”

You scowl at that. So it seems as though your little nickname has spread outside of the sorority… Just your luck. “Is it really so crazy that I want an emotional connection before I have sex with a man?”

“Yeah. Because they’re all faking it.”

 You frown, “What do you mean?”

“I live in a frat house with dozens of other guys, ____. I know how men think. Some of the sleazebags here will do anything to get in a girl’s pants—take her on dates, tell her what she wants to hear—whatever it takes. It’s really disturbing, and I thought you were smart enough to not fall for something like that.”

“Ok, I get it that there are jerks like that out there. But there still are guys who genuinely want a relationship.”

“Those guys are not in their right minds. They wake up months later, regretting everything.”

You shake your head, “No. I refuse to believe that every single man out there is as superficial as you say they are. Is it really that difficult to believe that someone could fall for me for my personality?”

Jungkook takes a second before responding, trying to tailor his answer to be as inoffensive as possible, “You’re hot-tempered and fiery. I can understand how some guys might like that… But none of them would care if you didn’t look the way you do.”

You plant both hands on your hips, “What does my appearance have to do with anything?”

Jungkook gives you a pointed look, “Would you really have slept with me if you didn’t think I was attractive?”

“Yeah, but that was just sex,” you defend yourself, “A relationship is different.”

“How so?” he asks, “There’s no way you would agree to be in a relationship with someone if you weren’t first attracted to them… This ‘emotional connection’ thing that you’re looking for? That’s just attaching arbitrary meaning to a superficial relationship. It’s not real.”

“It is!” You insist, “I’ll admit that some feelings are manufactured as a byproduct of hormones or whatever, but you can’t deny that love is real.”

But Jungkook rolls his eyes in distaste, “You sound like a child, going on and on about these ridiculous fairytales that your parents read to you at bedtime. The real world isn’t so pretty, sweetheart.”

Your temper flares at once. “I’m the childish one?” you growl, taking a long step forward so that you boldly intrude into his personal space, “For what? For believing that not all men are scumbags like you?” You throw your head back and let out a humorless laugh, “No, sweetheart. You’re the childish one for not being able to accept grown up emotions. Why is falling in love and caring for someone outside of their physical appearance so shameful to you? You need to grow the fuck up and realize that feeling for another human being does not make you weak.”

Jungkook is so stunned by your unexpected ferocity that he can’t speak. His eyes are as wide as saucers and his mouth opened slightly as he gapes at you. You’re still in his personal space, nose inches from his and finger jabbed harshly into his chest.

Your anger deflates and you take a step back from him with a deep sigh, “I need a drink.”

Frat parties really are not your thing. They were kind of fun back in your Freshman year when the allure of boys and alcohol seemed so rebellious and tempting, but now that you’re over half way done with university, you’ve realized how dull they really are. These parties are just an excuse for sleazy upperclassmen boys to get little freshman girls drunk, then take advantage of them.

The entire house is packed with people, so that it reeks of sweat and marijuana, and a spilt beer on the ground makes every step sticky. Most people are on the dance floor, recklessly uninhibited by too much cheap alcohol. You watch in disgust as cute girls sashay to the pounding electronic music while creepy older boys prowl the dance floor, looking for a target to grab. This is utterly revolting. Frat brothers are the scum of the planet; the lowest of the low; the—

“Hey, I got you another beer.”

You look up from where you lean against the bar to find Jimin standing before you, can in hand and brilliant smile plastered on his handsome face.

Frat brothers are despicable…except this one, of course.

You accept the beer with gratitude, delighting when you find the can to be icy, “Thank you so much, Jimin,” you say, brushing your hair out of the way to press the cold drink to your sweaty neck. “It’s ridiculously hot in here.” It’s an excuse. It isn’t particularly hot in the corner of the room where you stand, but sweat breaks across your skin from his proximity.

“I know,” he chuckles, “And you must be warm in that suit.”

“I see that you’ve taken the theme seriously as well, Park Jimin,” you snigger as you reach over to snap one of his suspenders, “Are you the office hoe to my CEO?”

The blonde playfully twirls around to show off his sleeveless white shirt and skintight red trousers, “It’s cute, right?”

“You look like a Magic Mike stripper.”

“Are you implying that that’s an insult?” He asks with a raise of his brows.

“No, of course not. I just forgot to bring my wallet tonight.”

He laughs, “That’s ok. I also accept venmo payments.”

“You frat bros are so sleazy,” you playfully slap his arm.

“And you customers are so cheap,” he says with a dramatic shake of his head, “I knew there was a reason I normally don’t attend these things.”

“And you think I do?” you snort as you pull the now lukewarm can from your skin to crack it open.

“Yeah, but it looks like you’ve got a reason to attend these days, huh?” Jimin says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrow.

You ignore the feeling of disappointment that swells in your chest and hastily take a gulp of your beer, “You too, Jimin,” you say, glancing over at where Mijoo chats up a group of sorority sisters near the dance floor, “Hell, the only reason you’re talking to me right now is because she’s busy,” you say with a laugh, hoping that you don’t sound too bitter.

Jimin turns in that direction, and the moment his eyes land on your roommate, his gaze turns wistful, “Yeah,” he admits, “I don’t think I can deny it anymore.”

You let out a bark of laughter that sounds hollow to even your own ears, “You’re so whipped.”

Jimin just shakes his head and laughs in chagrin. There’s a slight lull in conversation as he takes a sip of his beer and you observe the way the liquid slips between his plump lips. Then he turns to you with a smile, “It’s funny how this all turned out, huh?”

“Hmm?” you instantly revert your gaze to his eyes, hoping that he didn’t notice you staring, “What do you mean?”

“This whole thing,” he says, gesturing to the two of you, “You and Jungkook, me and Mijoo.”

You lick your dry lips, “How so?”

“It’s just… ironic, isn’t it? How we ended up this way.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you opt for another sip of your beer, hoping that your silence will hasten his vague confession.

True to your prediction, Jimin runs his hands through his hair with an embarrassed laugh, “It’s so ridiculous to bring this up again when it’s been buried for so long… But isn’t it so weird how the girl I liked is with my roommate? While I’m now with her best friend? I can’t wrap my mind around it sometimes.”

It feels like your world has been flipped upside down. You can’t process the words that just came out of his mouth for the longest time. He could be speaking a foreign language for all you know. “The girl y-you liked?” you choke out when you finally find your voice, “Jimin, what did you just say?”

The blonde man turns to frown at you with a look of confusion on his handsome face, “I had the biggest crush on you last year, don’t you remember?”

“I... I…” you stumble a step back from him, nearly dropping your beer on the ground in your shock. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted and you’re so overwhelmed that for a moment, you fear you might vomit.

“Ah, am I making you uncomfortable?” Jimin asks, his hands darting out to steady your shoulders in concern, “I’m so sorry, ____. I really shouldn’t be digging up old news again… But it’s all in the past now, I swear. I have no feelings for you anymore.”

The last sentence is like a bullet to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe from the excruciating pain. It takes everything in your power to keep standing and not immediately fall to your hands and knees. “You… you liked me?” you ask in a hushed whisper, staring at him with wide eyes.

Jimin sheepishly nods his head up and down, “Only last year,” he clarifies, “That’s all.”

“But…” you squeeze your eyes shut and furiously rub your head, trying to remember when Jimin had ever given you any signs that he had reciprocated, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did!” He exclaims, his eyes lighting up with indignation, “Do you get so many confessions that you’ve forgotten mine, Miss Ice Queen?” he laughs, using your nickname in a way that makes your gut clench, “I sent a note with Mijoo, don’t you remember?”

“Mijoo?” You ask in utter bewilderment.

“Yeah… It was almost a full year ago, that’s probably why you don’t remember,” Jimin sighs, “I went to the sorority house to try to find you, but you weren’t home. So I left my confession note with Mijoo to give to you.”

“O-oh,” you choke, “That note…”

“Ah, so you do remember,” Jimin grins, “I was pretty hurt that you didn’t even bother to respond to my note… but it’s all for the best. Can you even imagine us together?” he says, pulling a face, “It’s much better this way.”

A whole second passes before you can collect yourself enough to respond. “Yes,” you whisper, blinking back tears as you stare at the object of your every waking fantasy for the last two years. He’s so beautiful standing before you, smiling so brightly that it seems like a golden halo surrounds his whole body. “It’s so much better.”

Jimin liked you.

The whole time when you had been stressing about the most fleeting hugs and smiles and the meaning behind his texts, he had liked you back. When you had sat next to him in class, wrecked with nerves and pulse strumming at a thousand beats a minute, his heart was fluttering in the same way. Your feelings were not one-sided. He had, at one point, reciprocated them.

And then your best friend sabotaged you and took Jimin for herself.

Emotions well up in your chest as you watch Mijoo and Jimin interact from across the room. She’s never been a great dancer, and her lack of rhythm is appalling, but Jimin, with the patience of a saint, guides her through the movements. Unlike all the other obscene couples humping on the dance floor, the two of them sway to the music, Jimin’s arms tight around her waist and her head leaning on his shoulder, eyes sliding shut in the most peaceful expression. They’re in their own little world on the dance floor, completely enthralled by one another as they hold each other tightly like they never want to let go.

You swallow the lump in your throat. It would be one thing to see them wildly making out or grinding in the mosh pit like all the other horny kids. But to see them so enveloped in each other, content to just hug for the rest of the night… It hurts you more than you can express. You’d rather walk in on them fucking. This display of the purest affection… No one has ever held you like that before.

You’re jealous. It’s shameful how horrendously jealous you are. For one wild second, you can imagine yourself running across the room and ripping them apart with vivid clarity. If you got to your knees and begged for Jimin to reconsider… If you finally confessed your pent up emotions and let him know how much you cared for him… He’d be a heartless monster to just brush you off. Jimin and Mijoo aren’t official yet. It’s not too late. If what Jimin said was real, then maybe his feelings for you haven’t completely faded yet. Maybe you have a chance. Maybe you can—

But you’re not that type of girl.

You’ve been hurt one too many time by girls you had thought to be your friends, picking men over you. Those girls, who you’ve laughed with, you’ve cried with, who you’ve considered to be your sisters, have turned their backs on you with a single wag of a cute boy’s finger. You hate those girls who value relationships over friendships, and you refuse to turn into one of them. You refuse to stoop down to Mijoo’s level.

The happiness that Mijoo feels in Jimin’s arms… It’s not hers. It was yours. She stole it from you… But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve it.

You want the best for her, you really do. But it hurts so fucking bad.

“Hey, ___, can you move out of the way of the bar?”

A shrill voice interrupts your miserable thoughts and you look up to find one of your sorority sisters standing before you. It’s Hyejin, a voluptuous redhead with a figure so nice, she makes all the girls in the house question their sexuality. And trailing behind her is…

“Jungkook,” you gasp, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. Then you’re lurching forward to grab him by the wrist and yank him away.

“Hey, ___!” Hyejin calls after the two of you, indignant, “Where the hell are you going with him?”

But you ignore her and continue to drag Jungkook until you’ve left the main room for a narrow hallway. Bewildered by your sudden aggression, Jungkook automatically follows in your lead until you unexpectedly shove him into the bathroom.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he says, snapping back to his senses when you turn to lock the door, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Shut up,” you snap as you roughly tug your restricting tie off and slam it against the counter.

“Is this about Jimin and Mijoo?” he asks, still confused, “Can’t we discuss that later? I was trying to talk to that hot redhead back there! And I think she was into me, too!”

“Shut up,” you growl again, this time dropping to your knees so you can fumble with his belt.

Jungkook’s complaints die in his throat when he feels your hands right there. “___,” he says your name in a small voice, “What’re you doing?!”

You look up in irritation, “Jungkook, do you want a blow job or not?”

His look of utter shock is priceless. “Wh-what?”

You cup him through his pants to show him just how serious you are, “Do you want me to put your dick in my fucking mouth or not?”

“What the hell is going on…?” Jungkook weakly mumbles to himself, but nevertheless undoes the button of his jeans and pulls down the zipper, “This better not be some kind of fucked up joke,” he warns you in a dark tone, “You did not just ruin my chances with that chick just to play with—ah!”

His complaint dies in his throat at the feeling of your tongue pressed to his length through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Oh shit,” he weakly curses at the feeling of your mouth wetly suckling on just the head of his cock, carelessly leaving a stain against the dark fabric, “You really weren’t joking.”

You ignore him to yank his jeans and boxers down, licking your lips in anticipation when his heavy length instantly bobs up to slap against his stomach, “You get hard easily,” you remark as you pull his erection away from abdomen to position at your mouth.

“Hmm?” Jungkook mumbles, too distracted by the feeling of your breath on his length to give you a proper response until you irritably squeeze around his dick, “Ah, I don’t though,” he groans, “It’s because of you, babe. Because you’re so fucking hot.”

His words are so sleazy—just manufactured lies with no real meaning behind them. He’s telling you what you want to hear, but you don’t care. Pride floods your chest and you reward him by leaning forward to sink your mouth down on him as far as you can manage. His gasp of surprise is music to your ears. Without skipping a beat, you start up a hard pace, ignoring the burn of your throat to bob up and down on his thick length in a way that drives him crazy.

It pays off, for within seconds, his length grows to its full size, expanding and hardening into diamond under the relentless onslaught of your hot, wet mouth. You didn’t think it was possible to get hard this quickly, and it’s incredibly flattering. Pleased, you allow yourself to gag over his length, rewarding him with lewd squelching noises.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, over and over, whole body tensing with pleasure and sweat beading at his temples and neck, “Oh my fucking god. This feels so good.”

You hum around his length in response, and the resulting vibrations cause him to dart out his hands to grab onto your hair for dear life. You allow him to do so for a while, but the moment his fingers tighten around your strands, silently urging you to take him deeper, you stop.

“___, what are you doing?” he anxiously whispers when you pop off of his length entirely.

The look of sheer panic on his face makes you chuckle, “You really liked that, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” he hesitantly says, suspicious of your motives, but fearful that he might piss you off, “So why’d you stop? Come on, ____... don’t leave me hanging.” His fingers curl in your hair again, subtly trying to push your head forward.

You slap his hand away, “Touch me again, and I swear I’m walking straight out of this door.”

As though bitten, Jungkook’s hands fall back to his sides, “____,” he groans your name, hands balling to fists, but he doesn’t dare say anything else.

“Tell me how much you want me to blow you and I might just comply.”

His eyes snap to yours in surprise from your bold request, “___... You aren’t seriously going to make me beg for it, are you?”

“You think I’m going to give it to you that easily?” you chortle.

A muscle in Jungkook’s jaw twitches. You can tell that there’s an internal war raging in his mind between his ego and his desires. He would never stoop so low as to beg anyone for anything. And especially not you, this bratty, rude ice queen who says she doesn’t want him but keeps playing with him like a toy.

“You must not know me,” Jungkook growls, “Do you really think I would—” His voice chokes up when you suddenly lean forward to tongue at the swollen head of his cock, “Ah, fuck,” he curses, “please.”

You giggle at his abrupt defeat, “That was easy,” you comment to yourself as you suck off the copious precum beading at his tip with an unnecessary slurp, “Tell me what you want, and I might just give it to you, sweetheart.”

“Suck me,” he says at once, “Stop fucking playing around and suck me off already.”

His begging leaves something to be desired. Even when at your mercy, he continues to be an insufferable brat. Anger rises in your chest, “Suck yourself off then, bitch.���

His eyes widen with panic and he grabs you by the hand before you can rise to your feet, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he quickly backtracks, “Come on, please don’t leave me hanging.”

You pause at the feeling of him sweetly kneading your hand between both of his, “Do you seriously want this?”

“Do I want this—? Are you fucking kidding—I mean… Yes. Yes, of course,” he quickly catches himself before his temper can blow over, “Come on, beautiful,” he coaxes, “Please blow me? I need that pretty little mouth of yours, baby.”

“You need what?” you ask, teasingly curling a hand around his sticky length to reward him with a few strokes.

He tenses under the sensations, “I need your mouth, your hand, anything,” he groans, “I need you.”

You freeze at his unexpected words, hand stilling on his dick, “You need me?” you repeat in a small voice.

“Stop teasing me,” he whines, hand darting down to grab your wrist and force you back into motion.

You obediently tug on his slick length, but purposefully loosen your grip around him in a way that’s entirely unsatisfying, “Tell me how much you need me.”

“I need you so much,” he pants, ego clearly forgotten as he careens his hips upwards, chasing after the fleeting touch of your fingers, “God, I need you, baby.”

Your heart soars in your chest, “Do you? Then let me give it to you.” Then, you slide forward again, swallowing him down in one fluid motion. Jungkook kicks his head back at once, a beautiful moan tumbling out of his throat that sounds suspiciously like your name.

He continues to ramble on, almost incoherently, fearful that you might stop again, “God, your mouth is so fucking good, baby… Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop. I’m so close.”

Pleased by his reactions, you hum around his dick as you enthusiastically comply, bobbing up and down on his length as quickly as you can until your throat burns and his breathing stutters. You have your eyes squeezed shut, but tears still stream out from the corners, sliding down to join the unholy mix of saliva and bodily fluids on your face.

“Oh, fuck!” Jungkook cries out when you unexpectedly reach up to fondle his balls. His hips stutter forward in surprise, and it doesn’t take much more after that.

You moan encouragingly around his length with another squeeze of his balls, and suddenly, he thrusts deeply into your mouth with a hoarse cry of pleasure. You wince at the feeling of him releasing his bitter load down your throat with no warning, but you try your best to swallow it all up without making too much of a mess. Then, you pull yourself off his softening length with one last lick to the head, then rise to your feet.  

“Oh god,” Jungkook groans, whole body slack with satisfaction as he lazily pushes his spent cock back into his pants, “That was amazing.”

You flinch when you feel his arms encircle your waist, “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” He repeats with a raised brow, “Look at yourself. Where the hell did that come from? I thought you said it would never happen again,” he chuckles.

He’s clearly still reeling from the afterglow of his orgasm and smiles at you in a lazy, contented way that makes him far more attractive than he has any right to be. You’re perfectly aware that the ache between your legs hasn’t been satisfied, and you move to break out of his embrace, but he holds firm.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

“They’re probably looking for me at the party,” you mumble an excuse as you try to break free.

“They can afford to lose you for another couple of minutes… I still have to reciprocate after all, baby,” he murmurs in a low voice that makes goosebumps form all along your bare skin.

“Th-that’s ok,” you stammer as you try not to allow him to fluster you. You lick your dry lips you glance around the room for your escape. But it’s the wrong thing to do, because the flash of your pink tongue piques Jungkook’s interest at once. He licks his lips in return, and the smile fades from his face as he slowly lowers his face to yours.

You recognize that soft look in his half-lidded eyes too well, and jerk back just before his lips can make contact with yours, “Don’t kiss me.”

Jungkook loosens his grip on you with a frustrated click of his tongue, “You are so fucking weird… But whatever. Take off that stupid suit, babe. It’s my turn.”

You resist the urge to shiver at his suggestive words. For a moment, you’re tempted… But then you remember that you are in a bathroom… at a frat party… while Jimin and Mijoo hold each other so tenderly in the other room. Guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Is this what you’ve become? Giving head on the dirty bathroom floor while your best friend has her fairytale romance?

Bile rises in your throat and any feelings of arousal are quenched at once. “Get off of me,” you mumble as you forcibly shove him away from you.

Startled, Jungkook stumbles back a few feet, “What the fuck?”

“This never happened,” you tell him as you turn and run out of the bathroom. You can hear him calling after you in confusion, but you don’t look back until you’re far, far away from the frat house.

It’s nearly two in the morning when Mijoo finally returns home for the night. You haven’t been able to sleep the entire time, and instead of trying, you’ve opted for staring at the ceiling as you waited for her to come back.

Your roommate is surprised by the sight of you still awake in bed when she walks into the room, “Oh, ___, you’re still awake?”

You slowly turn to face her, “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you left earlier?” She lightly scolds you as she removes her heels, “I was so surprised when one of the girls told me that she saw you running out of the frat house. And you weren’t picking up your phone either! What’s gotten into you?”

You say nothing for a while as you simply stare at her, absorbing all of your roommate’s features. Even in the dimly lit room, it’s apparent that Kim Mijoo is a beautiful girl. With her small, heart-shaped face, large luminous eyes, and pouty pink lips, Mijoo looks like a fairy or some kind of storybook princess. She is just so pretty. So much prettier than you.

“Why didn’t you give me the note?” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the silent room like a knife.

“What?” Her eyes widen with confusion, but you can tell by the way her shoulders stiffen that she’s not as innocent as she appears.

“The note,” you repeat, “The confession note that Jimin asked you to deliver… Why didn’t you give it to me?”

Her façade crumbles at once and guilt strickens her features, “____... H-how…? Who told you about this?”

You irritably shrug her off, “That doesn’t matter. Just answer the question.”

Mijoo bites down on her bottom lip, brow furrowing and chin trembling slightly in distress. She’s so pretty that it inspires instinctive feelings within you to protect her. You feel like such a villain, grilling this angel and making her upset. It’s such an irritating feeling, but you can’t choke it back.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispers in a tiny voice.

A muscle in your cheek jumps, “Why did you do it, Mijoo?”

Her eyes drop to the ground, “I know it was wrong, ____. And I feel so terrible about it… But I liked him, ___. I liked him so much that I just—it’s so fucked up of me. I know it. I shouldn’t have done it, and I regret it every day. I am so sorry, ____.”

You are silent for a few seconds as you observe her. She looks so pathetic, trembling and on the verge of tears, that once again you feel like the biggest bitch. Even if it was her fault, causing this angel any pain makes you seem like the villain. And that pisses you off.

Mijoo’s used to getting whatever she wants in life with that pretty little face of hers. She’s probably had no repercussions for her actions before and didn’t think anything about sabotaging her best friend’s chances… And now she’s stolen Jimin away from you for good.

You had a chance… You actually had a fucking chance with Park Jimin, but she’s ruined everything. It’s unfair. It’s so unfair that she was born with the face of an angel and has everything—absolutely everything that you’ve ever wanted.

For a moment, you can imagine yourself causing a scene. You can see yourself screaming and cursing her out and throwing your things everywhere. You’ll throw a fit and alert all the other sisters in the house of this backstabbing bitch. You’ll make Mijoo cry and hurt her as much as she’s hurt you.

…but at what cost?

You’ve irreversibly lost Park Jimin. Will this petty revenge bring him back? Will ruining this friendship really make you feel any better?

You close your eyes briefly to exhale deeply through your nose as you revel in the tense silence. It feels as though time is suspended for a moment, the future and the fate of your friendship resting entirely on your shoulders. Then you cross the room to place a hand on Mijoo’s arm. The dark-haired girl looks up in surprise at the physical contact.

“Don’t do it again.”

“____?” she whispers your name, tearful eyes as wide as saucers, “I… I’m really, truly sorry. You have to believe me.”

You exhale again, “I forgive you… Just… please don’t do it again.”

Mijoo hurriedly shakes her head, “Of course. I would never dream of it,” she solemnly swears, “But, ____... Are we… are we good?”

You take in the hopeful expression on her perfectly symmetrical face. “Yeah,” you sigh, “Yeah, we are.”

Your roommate’s mouth splits into the most radiant of smiles, “Thank you so much, ___,” she cries out, throwing her arms around your neck in relief, “I hope I didn’t upset you too much.”

“Of course not,” you mumble as you affectionately stroke your fingers through her long, silky hair, “It’s not like I liked him anyways…”

Author’s Note: The reason for the title is coming up probably in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and as always, please don’t ask me for updates :)