#listen. it can just go from rivals to lovers to enemies to lovers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

x0x0josephinex0x0 · 5 months

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pretty boy | jeonghan

I can't help myself from writing enemies to lovers Jeonghan, because he provides the source material himself. Also big thanks to Hani @vanillacheol for letting me use her name and likeness to a) provide our MC with a bestie and b) provide Seungcheol with a girlfriend. Anyway, here are the details: Word count: 8.3k Summary: After a complicated first date, you swear to hate Jeonghan forever, but fate has other plans >:) Genre: E2L, academic rivals to lovers, royalty au kind of, college au kind of Warnings: reader is referred to using feminine pronouns and other identifiers, reader is mentioned to be wearing a skirt and a gown on separate instances, Jeonghan calls reader "princess" a lot (because she is), there are pranks mentioned, pressure to choose someone to marry is mentioned, lots of name-calling, a couple of arguments, lots of kissing, some suggestive language, some brief actual bullying (not between Jeonghan and MC), long-hair Jeonghan (def needs a warning), and Jeonghan is an absolute menace as per usual.

“Are you listening to me?” your friend Hani asks, bringing you back down to earth.

The truth is, you hadn’t been listening to her at all. You’d been miles away in your mind, daydreaming of home. “I’m sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Would you mind repeating?”

Hani rolls her eyes. “I was asking,” she says pointedly, “if you’ve got a flight for my birthday ball yet.”

“Of course,” you reply. “Why?”

She fidgets nervously — a telltale sign she’s hiding something. “Oh, no reason,” she says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Your grin drops. “He’s coming,” you realize. “Jeonghan is coming to your birthday ball after all.”

“I know what you’re going to say, and I need you to be rational about it. Jeonghan is Seungcheol’s best friend, and I couldn’t just not invite him.” Hani plays with her pearl bracelet, a gift from her boyfriend, and avoids eye contact with you. She’s gotten more assertive since she started her relationship with Seungcheol, the prince of a nearby country, who’d fallen in love with your friend at freshman orientation at your posh private college. They’d been together for a year and a half, and six months ago she never would’ve said any of that to you, carefully concealing her real feelings behind a placid smile.

It’s for this reason you’re grateful for Seungcheol. He’s helped your friend feel confident and strong, and you can tell how much he loves her. He’s also kind and thoughtful and genuine and funny, very down-to-earth despite being a prince, and full of good advice when you need it. Becoming his friend has been a huge perk of the relationship he has with Hani.

The one major downside? Yoon Jeonghan. He’s Seungcheol’s best friend from home, the son of a high-ranking military leader in Seungcheol’s home country, and apparently they were raised like brothers. Unlike sweet and harmless Seungcheol, though, Jeonghan is a devil in disguise. Blessed with the face of a fairy prince, with intellect to match, he was confident to the point of arrogance and seemed to always get exactly what he wanted. He could sweet-talk even the strictest professors into extending deadlines just for him, and had a penchant for connecting especially accommodating students and teachers to job opportunities and networking events and even really nice favors — once he paid for one of the school secretaries to fly to a tropical island with her new husband just because she straightened out an attendance issue for him.

You had butt heads with Jeonghan almost upon first sight, which had coincidentally been on a date that Hani insisted you go on. “You’ll love him,” she had oozed.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to fulfill your lifelong dream of us dating brothers?” you’d grumbled, trying to avoid showing how nervous you’d been.

“They’re not really brothers,” Hani had reminded you, “but of course I would love it if you dated Jeonghan for real. He’s perfect for you, trust me.”

She’d had to eat her words when you came home from the date soaked to the bone, a murderous glare in your eyes. “He is without a doubt the most bull-headed, self-important, cocky, absolutely despicable human being I’ve ever met. I never want to see him again,” you’d fumed.

“What happened?” Hani had exclaimed, rushing to grab you a towel. She listened sympathetically as you recounted how it had all gone down.

It had actually started off well. Jeonghan struck you as the kind of person who could make a brick wall feel clever and important, and he was a perfect gentleman at first. He’d even addressed you as “my lady”, a reference to your position as eldest princess of a small island country, until you begged him to relax, but the level of decorum he’d approached you with had bolstered your confidence a bit.

“So...princess,” he’d said cautiously after you’d insisted he call you by your name, and you’d rolled your eyes at this. “How’s the island these days?”

“Are you asking me about foreign policy on our date?” you had asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m asking you about your home,” he’d countered. “What’s it like there? It’s one of the few places I’ve never been.”

“Oh, really?” Your eyes lit up. “Well, it’s much warmer than it is here.”

“Naturally,” Jeonghan had said. “Do you miss that?”

“More than anything,” you’d said, frowning at the snow falling in soft piles outside. “Near the palace is this one stretch of beach -- you sort of have to hike through a small jungle to get there, but nothing too bad, you know -- and when it snows like this I have to remind myself that it still exists and I can go back there one day.”

Jeonghan grinned. “What does it look like?”

“Well, there’s a thick treeline since it’s just past the woods, but that means it’s very private. It’s got the most beautiful sand -- it’s pink!”

“Pink sand?” Jeonghan had repeated, his head propped up by one hand as he gazed at you, rambling on excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s from a micro-organism that lives in the coral reefs that grow around the island. There are a few different pink beaches on our island, but this one is special. Hardly anyone knows about it. Seokmin -- my cousin, you know, the theater major -- found it first, and I’ve been going there ever since.” You caught sight of him watching you and felt your face heat up. “Uh, sorry. I got carried away.”

“No, no, it was cute,” he reassured you, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

“What about you?” you had asked, and you’d listened with rapt attention as Jeonghan had described the mountainous region he hailed from, with so many clever little asides that made you laugh. You were generally more of a “black cat” type personality, but Jeonghan was bringing out an eager, girlish side of you that almost no one got to see. He made you feel like your blood had become carbonated -- like little tiny bubbles were flowing all over your body, all tingly and excited.

The conversation had lasted hours, covering everything from your families (yours was close, his was rather distant) to your favorite foods (seafood for you, fried chicken for him) to the most unusual kinds of music you liked (film scores for you, musical theater songs for him). Finally, with all your food eaten and the drinks all but drained from their fancy bottles, it had come time to talk about education. “If you weren’t a princess, what would you be studying?” Jeonghan had asked.

“I think I would still want to learn about public policy, especially as it relates to nonprofits,” you had replied. “At my core, I want to use what I know to help others, and there’s almost no easier way to do that than improve the legal conditions for charity work.”

Jeonghan nodded thoughtfully. “You might be the biggest nerd I’ve ever met,” he finally said with a grin.

You had gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “Even bigger than you, Mr. Political Science?”

He shook his head. “Imagine how cool I’d have to actually be to be studying poli-sci and still be considered cool.”

“Oh, are you considered cool?” you’d teased. “I hadn’t heard that.” (Which was a lie. When a girl in your dorm had found out who you were going on the date with, she’d almost keyed your car out of jealousy. Jeonghan was notoriously cool.)

He clapped a hand over his chest. “Please don’t wound me like this. My reputation is all I have.”

You looked him up and down in the way that tabloid articles had called your “man-eater move.” “Just your reputation, pretty boy?” you questioned lightly. “How disappointing.”

Jeonghan’s eyes got wide, but he recovered quickly. “I actually have one more thing. Way more important than my reputation.” He said it so seriously that you leaned forward in interest.

“What is it?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He leaned forward to match you and whispered in your ear softly, “A fully completed Death Star Lego set.”

And you had burst into laughter. People were generally easy for you to read, but Jeonghan took you by surprise every time. The rest of the meal was full of giggles and simmering tension. More than once you caught yourself staring at him and wondering what it’d be like to kiss the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

Which is how you found yourself in the custodian closet at that very restaurant twenty minutes later doing exactly that.

He had begun it -- suggesting a quick bathroom break that you somehow understood with your eyes, and on your way in he’d pulled you right into that tiny closet and pressed his mouth to yours like it might be the last thing he ever did. You were surprised at how strong this lithe boy was as his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands tightening into fists around the fabric of your skirt at your hips as he pressed you up against one of the shelves, knocking several bottles of cleaning wipes onto the floor. You had gasped and pulled away, just enough that you could look at him. “Careful, pretty boy,” you’d hummed breathlessly as you pulled him back for more, and he’d groaned.

“Call me that one more time, princess, I dare you,” he’d murmured against your lips.

“Is that a threat?” you’d whispered back, knotting your fingers into his long hair, perfectly content to let him do whatever it was he’d had in mind.

But then his cellphone, which had somehow slipped out of his pocket onto the floor, rang. Loudly. You both dived for it, worried that someone would hear, and you reached it first. After silencing it, you saw a familiar notification pop up on Jeonghan’s phone.

“No way!” you’d exclaimed quietly. “Are you in Exploration of Debate?” It was an online class you were taking as a general, where you posted anonymously on an online debate forum. The person with the highest number of won debates was the person with the highest grade, and to your chagrin, you were in second place after a devastating loss to “TwinkleToes17”. In fact, so ruthless was TwinkleToes that they’d gained a reputation outside the class as someone who was a pure psychopath, willing and ready to twist every word to their advantage. It seemed like everyone on campus had heard of this person.

Which is why you’d burst out of the closet two minutes after. “I can’t believe this,” you’d yelled, not caring that the other restaurant patrons and the wait staff were staring at you. You’d ripped your coat off your chair, grabbed your bag, and ran out into the wet, snowy evening, Jeonghan hot on your trail.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. It’s a class,” he’d insisted, jogging to keep up with your dramatic pace, a laugh in his voice that only made your anger more overwhelming.

“Okay, firstly, even outside the class everyone knows you’re a monster,” you’d said. “And secondly, you manipulated me and twisted every word that I said to win that debate.” The third thing, which you hadn’t said, is that you couldn’t bear looking stupid in front of anyone, even if no one knew it was you. Mistaken, fine. Naive, sure. But never stupid.

And Jeonghan had made you look really stupid.

So you’d ignored his repeated calls after you, until he’d finally got frustrated and stopped following you. You’d walked the entire five kilometers home in the snow, arriving soaked and cold and grumpier than you’d possibly ever been. Worse was when you shared classes with Jeonghan for the next two semesters, unraveling your plan to never see him again.

When recounting this story to Hani, you left out the part about the short-lived makeout session in the closet and the undeniable chemistry between the two of you. You, instead, focused on the massive betrayal of learning about his online activities, Hani had scolded you for being too stubborn, prideful, and competitive, and that had been the end of it.

But the true rivalry had begun six months ago. You had had to go over to Seungcheol’s apartment to take care of Hani while he was away. Hani usually stayed at his place when she was sick, mainly because Seungcheol was the world’s biggest worrywart and called her constantly when he couldn’t be there while she wasn’t feeling her best.

So you had driven to his place, to hopefully ease some of her suffering (and Seungcheol’s), completely forgetting who he lived with. To your shock, it was Jeonghan who answered the door. “Ah, princess,” he’d exclaimed. “Welcome.”

The way he’d beamed when he saw you was infuriating. Peeking around his shoulder, you made venomous eye contact with Hani, who was sitting in a heap on the couch, her eyes red and watery with her illness. “How are you?” you asked, pointedly stepping around Jeonghan to go to her.

“I’m suffering,” she said. “But Jeonghan has been taking really good care of me.”

“Has he, now,” you’d said in a deadpan voice.

“Well, now that you’re here, I need to run some errands,” Jeonghan had said, quickly excusing himself to go to the grocery store. You had tended to Hani while he left, not turning when he’d called a goodbye over his shoulder as he stepped out into the night.

Watching Hani was mostly uneventful. You brought her water when she finished her glass and watched TV together until Seungcheol came back. As you’d stood up to leave Hani and Seungcheol, who were snuggled together on the couch, Hani asked if you would grab the ibuprofen out of Jeonghan’s bathroom.

You had been surprised (and a little annoyed) at how clean it was inside, but he had left his toothbrush out on the counter, which immediately made you think of the fluorescent blue dye you had in your bag that you had needed for a recent experiment in your geology class. The dye, coincidentally, was colorless until it reacted to saliva, and stained everything around it a shocking shade of blue for several hours before fading completely. You had tried to be good, you really had -- you’d almost left the bathroom without doing anything to the toothbrush -- but there was a petty streak in you that desperately wanted Jeonghan to feel even one bit as foolish as he’d made you feel. Plus, when were you ever going to get an opportunity like this again?

This had been the beginning of the prank war between you and Jeonghan. The following week, you’d come home to a flock of confused pigeons trapped in your apartment. “Where did he even get a flock of pigeons?” you had muttered as you mopped your hardwood floors free of all the lingering gifts that the birds had left for you.

“Beats me,” Hani said, spraying your tabletop with cleanser. “But I think this is a good learning experience for you. Jeonghan is really sweet, but he’s competitive, and he’ll do anything to win.”

“Oh, but I’m the exact same way,” you’d told her with a grim determination.

And so, it had continued. One week you were swapping out Jeonghan’s bar of soap for one that was almost identical but had a particularly itchy ingredient, the next week Jeonghan rearranged the letters on your keyboard and made it nearly impossible for you to finish your assignments in time, the week following you stole his textbooks and replaced them with poorly written erotic novels.

The pranks had only escalated the academic rivalry you’d had, especially as the two of you had striven to derail the other. When the exam results came out, you were elated to learn that despite Jeonghan’s efforts, you had come out of the semester at the top of the class — with Jeonghan just below you at number 2, by .02 points. Now, as you were about to fly to Hani’s birthday ball during spring break, your elation has been crushed. “Are you still going to come?” Hani asks, giving you her big sad eyes that you can’t say no to.

And because this is Hani, who knows you better than anyone and has always been there for you, you already know what you have to say. “Of course I’m going to come,” you reassure her. “It’s your birthday. I suppose I knew he’d probably end up deciding to come. But I’ll be darned if I let a man get between us.” You can’t suppress an eye roll. “Especially not that man.”

“You’re the best!” Hani exclaims. “Do you have a dress yet?”

“I have a few options,” you say. “I’ll take them with me so we can try things on together and you can help me choose.” You grin at her squeal of delight and try not to think about all the strategizing you’re going to have to do to avoid Jeonghan at the ball.

******

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan.

Jeonghan grins from the seat beside yours. “What? Did you want the window seat?” he asks, pointing out the small window of the airplane. It’s one of those huge jets with two stories, built for a seventeen-hour flight across the world, and yet, of all the seats you could be sitting in, of course Jeonghan is sitting in the next one over.

You huff as you sit down. “Why didn’t you fly with Cheol?”

“He flew with Hani,” Jeonghan replies. “I didn’t want to third-wheel for that many hours in a row.”

That’s honestly pretty fair, but you can’t let him see you agree, so you roll your eyes. “Well, this is actually good. I needed to talk to you.”

“About?”

“The ball. We have to call a truce on our war.”

“Our war?” Jeonghan repeats with a raised eyebrow.

You clear your throat. “Our...rivalry.”

“I would call it a ‘friendly competition’,” he tells you.

“It’s really not that friendly,” you snap, and rifle in your bag for your headphones. “And it doesn’t matter what you call it, we just need to be well-behaved and civil during the ball because I will not have you or anyone else ruining Hani’s birthday party.”

“Well, I can’t promise to be well-behaved, but I promise I won’t ruin Hani’s party,” he comforts.

You shake your head. “I guess that’s the best I could really hope for,” you grumble. Unable to locate your headphones, you toss your bag under your seat in frustration.

“What did that poor bag ever do to you?” Jeonghan asks.

“I can’t find my headphones,” you hiss.

“I brought an extra pair.”

You stare at him. “You did not.”

“I truly, truly did,” he says. “Would you like to use them?”

“What will it cost me?”

“Nothing,” he says, grinning. “Let’s call it a mark of our truce.” He pulls them out of his bag and hands them to you, and you accept them, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Do they zap your ears when you put them in?” you ask nervously.

“No,” he says, taking one bud and putting it in his own ear. “Just regular old headphones.”

So you put one of them in, bracing yourself. Nothing happens, but the way Jeonghan is watching you is making you worried. “Forgive me if I’m a little wary after the pen incident.” (You were, of course, referring to a prank Jeonghan had pulled where he had replaced your pen with one that shocked you at random intervals.)

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to make your life miserable, princess. Actually, right now, I’m trying to make your life easier.” He leans back against his seat’s headrest and closes his eyes. “It’s not going to kill you to trust me a little.”

You shoot him a dubious look before acquiescing, slipping the other bud into your ear. No shock. You decide he’s probably telling the truth, and you listen to an audiobook while you wait for the plane to take off.

Hours later, after you’ve watched the sunset fade to black outside Jeonghan’s window, and after watching two movies and dozing off during a third, you jolt awake to a sudden dip of the plane. Blinking rapidly, you try to make sense of your surroundings, and the first thing you register is a hand clasping your own.

You look over, mortified, to see Jeonghan staring at you. But instead of the sneer you expected, his expression is serious and kind. “Are you okay?” he asks, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“I’m fine,” you say, although your voice is shaking and you can’t bring yourself to let go of his hand even though it’s embarrassing.

“You’re scared of flying?” he asks you quietly.

“Not enough to not do it,” you reply. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes that makes you think that you’ve stepped outside the incessant teasing that has been the hallmark of your relationship with this man, but you find yourself saying, “I feel like I should be used to it already.” Immediately you begin to worry about how Jeonghan might use this weakness against you, but he just looks at you.

“Well, if it makes any difference,” he finally says, “you’re handling it pretty well.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

This is just too weird. The weirdest part is, it doesn’t feel weird at all -- not talking with him, not holding his hand, not even the way he looks at you. For a second, you remember how intently Jeonghan had listened to you speak at that dinner all those months ago. This seems much more like the person you thought he was before you’d found out he’d destroyed you in an anonymous online debate. And, terrifyingly, this was a person you could see yourself falling deeply into, with no hope of escape.

The plane lurches again, and you close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose. A low chuckle from Jeonghan makes you shoot him an annoyed look.

He shrugs. “Sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean to laugh at you, I’m just surprised.”

“Why?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“Because,” he says, as though choosing his words very carefully. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’s scared of anything.”

His tone is -- dare you say it? -- respectful, almost awed, full of admiration.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you remind him, swallowing nervously.

He purses his lips. “Sad, but true.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat again, closing his eyes. “Figure it out, princess,” he whispers, before falling asleep with your hand clenched around his.

******

The night before the ball, you’re on a video chat with your little sister when your dad enters the frame.

“How’s my girl doing?” the king asks, and you have to smile. Your dad is really an amazing leader, and an even better dad.

“I’m good,” you say. “Just three more days before I’m home!”

“We’re so excited to have you back,” your sister chimes in, and your dad nods enthusiastically.

“Can I have a word with your sister?” your dad asks her, and she skips away with a quick “bye!”

“What’s up?” you ask.

“There’s been a little bit of tension on the mainland lately,” your dad confesses. “Nothing too concerning, but we want to nip it in the bud. I think it’s time for you to think about your future.”

You know when he says “future” he means “marriage”, and your heart sinks. As the eldest child, you will inherit the crown once your father retires. His hair and beard are grayer every time you see him, and you’ve known for awhile that he’s feeling a bit exhausted. “I am thinking about it,” you admit. “I’ve been going on dates.”

“Anything promising?” your dad asks hopefully.

You fiddle with your shirt hem, hesitating before you answer. The truth is, only one date you’ve been on since college is memorable at all. You try not to think about Jeonghan’s smirk and the way he’d made you laugh and holding his hand on basically the entire seventeen-hour flight over and most importantly his lips against yours in that dusty custodian’s closet before shaking your head. “Not really,” you confess. “Most politicians are really boring.”

Your dad scoffs. “Tell me about it.” He sighs. “Well, I’m not trying to force you into anything, but maybe the ball can be a good networking event for you. I heard that Prince Chan will be there.”

Prince Chan was internationally famous for being a real-life “Prince Charming” -- the perfect gentleman, always smiling, handsome as a fairytale prince. Your country was off his country’s southern coast, so his home was close to yours. “That might be a good political move.”

“And Prince Seungcheol will be there, and the general’s son, I forget his name...” Your dad trails off, but you know who he means, and you rush to put an end to those thoughts.

“Seungcheol is dating Hani,” you remind your dad quickly. “And Jeonghan -- the general’s son -- is...not an option either.”

“Okay,” your dad says, not catching the unspoken information in your tone. “Well, you’ll have boots on the ground, so just try, okay? And we can talk about it when you get back.”

You finish your talk and hang up, looking up at the vaulted ceiling of your guest bedroom in Hani’s parents’ palace. It was a curse to be the heir to the throne sometimes. The weight of your mantle was often so heavy it felt crushing. Your country was a small one, inhabited by gentle people. Military power, the nuances of war, conquest — none of these things were built into your culture. You weren’t sure what you’d do if things went south.

Sighing, you head to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. When you emerge from your shower and as you’re brushing your hair, the wind starts to pick up from outside. By the time you get into bed, a storm is raging outside. This, coupled with the thoughts swirling relentlessly around you head, has you thoroughly wound up and incapable of sleeping.

So you wrap yourself in a dressing gown and head up the corridor toward the spiral staircase that leads to the library. One thing that always helps you sleep is a familiar book. You wander between the dim shelves, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps, as the thunder gets louder and louder. Finally, you’re able to locate a copy of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s Secret Garden, which you take from the shelf, cozying up in a large armchair to read by one of the lamps.

A few pages in, you’re nearly startled to death by a voice from behind you. “What are you doing awake?”

You jump out of the chair and whirl around. “Jeonghan!” you whisper-shout. “For the love of all that is holy, you scared me.”

He gives a small smile. “Sorry, princess.” He’s also in his PJs, his shoulder-length hair still wet from a shower, and there are dark circles under his eyes that make him look more gaunt and melancholy than usual — a vampire rather than his standard fairy. It’s especially pronounced in the low lamplight.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says simply.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you couldn’t sleep. I sensed you coming in here.”

You scoff. “What nonsense,” you say.

“I’m serious. We’re soulmates.” Jeonghan’s grin has turned sly.

“Don’t be difficult,” you snap. “Was there a real reason you wanted to share, or — ?”

But then a bolt of lightning briefly illuminates the library in bright white light. The following clap of thunder is so loud it seems to shake the library. Jeonghan cringes and claps his hands to his ears before eyeing you warily.

You point a finger at him. “You’re scared of thunderstorms?” you guess.

He blushes. “Scared is a strong word.”

He cowers as the lightning flashes again, plugging his ears preemptively to avoid the massive clap of thunder. “You’re totally terrified,” you say when he finally takes his fingers out of his ears. “Well, this is just perfect.”

“That seems like a strong word, too,” he grumbles, coming to sit in the chair next to yours. “Perfect, how?”

“Now I know your weakness, and you know mine,” you explain, turning your attention back to your book. “We’re even.”

You couldn’t be more shocked when Jeonghan snakes a cold hand onto your wrist. When you gape at him, he looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I held your hand during the turbulence,” he reminds you. “So this is actually how you get even.”

This is hard to argue with, so you just keep reading with his fingers wrapped around your hand. “Do what you need to do, pretty boy,” you sigh.

His sharp intake of air makes you look up from your book. “What?”

“You need to stop calling me that,” Jeonghan says quietly.

“Or what?” you say, shutting your book with a snap.

“Or I’ll lose my mind,” he says in a strained tone. His jaw is clenched, his cheeks are flushed, and his palm on your wrist has become clammy with sweat. “I thought it would be easier to be close to you, but you insist on making my life harder, don’t you?”

This hits you like a punch in the gut. Glaring, you wrench your hand from Jeonghan’s grasp. “You don’t have to talk to me, Jeonghan. It’s perfectly alright for you to ignore me if it’s that hard for you to stand interacting with me.” Suddenly the library doesn’t feel big enough for you and Jeonghan to occupy the space at the same time -- as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. You jump from the armchair and turn on your heel, your robe blowing out behind you.

But Jeonghan is following you again -- and it’s so reminiscent of that first night that you almost laugh. “I don’t understand how you’re not as tortured as I am,” he calls after you. “That’s part of what makes me so insane.”

“Who says I’m not? You’re absolutely agonizing to be around,” you shoot back over your shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, and he catches you by the arm, whirling you around so that you face him. You try to shake free, but his grip is iron-strong. “It’s like you’re barely affected by my presence. You don’t feel this constant draw -- this constant need to --

“To what, Jeonghan?” you ask, taking a step forward. “Finish the sentence. To what?”

Your faces are inches apart, the tension between you so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Jeonghan flexes his jaw and swallows hard before his gaze flicks down to your lips. You’re breathing too hard, your pulse too quick, your face hot. He inches closer -- the tips of your noses nearly touching, and when he whispers, it’s in a husky tone that sends chills down your spine. “It’s impossible for me to understand how you don’t seem to think about what happened between us. For you, it’s like it never happened. For me...I think about it every day.”

He’s so close you can smell the peppermint toothpaste on his breath. So close that if you even slightly moved forward, your lips would meet.

And then lightning strikes again. Jeonghan lets go of your arm, takes a step back, nods to you like he would an acquaintance from class, and leaves you alone in the library, where you lean, trembling, against a bookshelf just as the more distant clap of thunder rings out. You have to place a hand over your chest to soothe the frantic beating of your heart. The rest of the night is sleepless -- you toss and turn, wondering what on earth has just happened between you and Jeonghan.

******

“Is Hani ready?” Seungcheol asks, meeting you halfway up the stairs.

“Almost,” you say, adjusting your pearl necklace so the clasp is in the back. “And she gave me explicit instructions that you are to stay at the bottom of the stairs. She wants that movie moment. And you are going to give it to her, because it’s her birthday.”

Seungcheol follows you back down the stairs. “So, Jeonghan’s been weird today,” he says, a question in his tone.

“He’s always weird,” you say shortly.

“Weirder than usual. You look great, by the way,” he tells you, gesturing at the glittering white dress you’re wearing. It hugs your frame with a corseted top, cascading like sea foam down your hips and ending in a train. Hani had picked it out, saying that it matched your small pearl-encrusted crown the best, but you also suspected that she knew it was your most devastating look.

“Thanks,” you say to Seungcheol. “Wait until you see Hani.”

He’s so down bad he even smiles just at the sound of her name. “I can’t wait.”

“And about Jeonghan,” you continue. “Did he tell you -- anything?”

Seungcheol gives you a stern look. “Should he have? Did anything happen last night?”

“There was a thunderstorm,” you say quickly.

“Ah,” Seungcheol says, his gaze a little too understanding. “Jeonghan is scared of thunderstorms.”

You nod, refusing to answer the question he isn’t asking. Luckily, you’re saved by the arrival of Hani at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely stunning in the prettiest blue dress. Seungcheol’s whole face transforms into a picture of joy. “Wow,” he breathes.

You can see her beaming from here. You decide to let them have their moment by themselves, and instead push through the magnificent double doors into the ballroom. As your eyes scan the crowd, you try to believe that you’re not looking for Jeonghan, but there has been a knot in your chest since last night, and you somehow sense he is the only person who can do anything about it. Before landing on Jeonghan, though, your eyes land on Prince Chan. You remember your dad’s request and plaster on your most winning smile as you approach him.

“Hello, Prince Chan,” you say, curtsying low to him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

He’s just as handsome as everyone has said, and he’s smiling just as kindly as you’d expect. “It’s a beautiful party,” he says. “The hostess is your best friend, right?”

“She is,” you confirm. “Princess Hani is wonderful. Have you ever met her?”

“Only a handful of times. We were kids,” he explains. “But everyone speaks highly of her.”

You nod. “So, how are things on the mainland?” you ask, changing the subject.

You pass a few pleasant minutes discussing his interests, the state of his country’s affairs, and you. After awhile, a very territorial woman comes to stand between you and Prince Chan, interrupting your conversation. He shoots you an apologetic look over her shoulder, and you wave him off with a small smile and a bow, backing away.

“Already causing problems, I see,” says a familiar voice.

You turn to see him -- Jeonghan, in his decorated military uniform, looking far more handsome and ethereal than he had any right to. You stick up your chin. “Well, it wasn’t my intention,” you say. “He was standing alone.”

“What a kind soul you are,” Jeonghan says drily as Hani makes her grand entrance.

You pause in your bickering to applaud her, beaming and embracing her as she comes to greet you. “Do you feel beautiful?” you ask her.

“Yes, I do,” she tells you. “Thank you for always being here.”

After she walks away to greet her other guests, you turn back to Jeonghan. “So, do you have anything else to say to me? Or do you have more pigeons to sedate and put in my bedroom?”

He grins. “As tempting as that is, I have plenty more to say to you.”

Just then, the music starts, and before Jeonghan can offer you his arm to escort you onto the floor, you are turning to the nearest passing gentleman and asking him to dance. Jeonghan follows suit, escorting a pretty redhead in a yellow dress into the space right beside you. As you begin the steps of the dance, you make polite conversation with your partner, whose name you have already forgotten. Jeonghan seems to be vaguely paying attention to his own partner as she rambles on good-naturedly, but his eyes never leave you. His scorching looks from across the dance column have heat rising in your cheeks and the back of your neck, and a funny swooping feeling in your stomach, almost like you’ve done a massive drop on a roller coaster.

At the end of the dance, you politely bow to your partner and are just about to scurry away when Jeonghan catches your hand. “One dance,” he begs. “Please.”

And his eyes are searing with some barely-concealed passion, his skin unnecessarily flushed and his jaw set in a hard line, and you open your mouth — to refuse him, you remind yourself — but nothing comes out, leaving Jeonghan free to pull you back into the dance floor and into his arms for the waltz.

You have done a simple waltz a thousand times — maybe hundreds of thousands at this point. Your feet are familiar with the steps and the turns. It’s simple enough to do. But waltzing with Jeonghan is like trying to speak a language you’ve never heard before. Pressed against his body, his hand burning into the small of your back through your dress, you find yourself unable to meet his eyes as he leads you through the steps. Something about him holding you like this is reminding you forcefully of that distant janitor’s closet, and this is making it impossible for you to look at him for fear of what it might do to you. So, with your heart pounding in your ears, you fixate on the top button of Jeonghan’s uniform and let him whirl you around, until it feels like everything else has faded away but the music and his arms around you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, but you don’t look up until the very last strains of the song are fading away.

And as you do, Jeonghan’s angelic face breaks into a smile that could make the devil repent. He’s so unbearably beautiful that you actually feel your breath hiss out of you, stolen by his smile. You realize that it doesn’t matter how much you pranked him or ignored him or rejected him or lied to yourself — there was absolutely nothing that could have kept you from falling in love with him.

Just at this moment of revelation, someone taps Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt,” Prince Chan says.

“It’s no trouble,” Jeonghan says. He’s still partially holding you in his arms, and you are still struggling to remember how to breathe, but Prince Chan seems not to notice or care.

“Would you mind if I had the next dance?” he asks, looking between the two of you.

You find it impossible to speak, so you just nod in assent. Jeonghan gives your hand to Chan, looking mildly crestfallen, and you try to get your crap together before the music starts.

You successfully collect yourself enough to look Prince Chan in the face. He’s smiling at you, but his eyes are a little too understanding. “Jeonghan’s great, huh?” he asks.

You try to laugh, but it comes out choked and awkward. “He’s a bit too charming for his own good,” is all you’re willing to admit.

Chan nods in agreement. “He’s interesting. Most people like to show their very best selves to others, and you find out the bad stuff the more you get to know them. But Jeonghan kind of does the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’ll be crafty and cunning up front, but he’s actually very kind. And you only get to see that if you get close to him.”

“How do you know?” you ask.

Chan glances over at Jeonghan. “I actually stayed with his family for a month while my mother was sick,” he explains. “Jeonghan had gone through something similar, and he was a big help to me. Of course he still drove me crazy sometimes,” he adds with a laugh, “but he’s solid gold all the way through. You just have to crack him open a bit to see it.”

You’re silent, chewing on this information, when all of a sudden, someone tosses the contents of their wine glass at you, coating your gown in a deep red stain. You gasp and look over to see Jeonghan with his current dance partner -- who is holding her empty wine glass and grinning wickedly at you. You recognize her as the one who interrupted your earlier conversation with Chan. “Oops,” she says.

Your eyes bounce between Jeonghan and the girl. “I need to go change,” you say to Chan. “Please excuse me.”

Chan’s glaring at the girl, and he nods to acknowledge he heard you. You immediately turn away from Jeonghan’s wide-eyed stare, hugging your arms to your chest and heading straight for Hani and Seungcheol. “Some psycho threw her wine on me,” you whisper to her. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks with concern.

You muster a weak smile. “No, you stay and enjoy your party.”

“I’m going to go escort the psycho out of here,” Seungcheol says, his eyes focused behind you on where you’ve left Chan and the girl and Jeonghan. You look over your shoulder to see Jeonghan leaning in close to the girl and whispering something in her ear, and this is the final straw. A part of you wonders if he planned it himself -- even after you asked him not to ruin things. So you turn on your heel and flee from the ballroom, running up the stairs and heading toward the library.

The tears start the minute you cross the threshold. You hate crying, and hate being a cliche damsel in distress, but the lack of sleep, the confusion about your own feelings, and the blatant bullying you’ve experienced have overwhelmed you, and it’s hard to stop yourself from collapsing into full-blown sobs. You only have a few seconds to cry by yourself between the bookshelves, however, before you hear someone’s footsteps sprinting into the library.

“Princess?”

Oh, no.

You try not to make any noise so that he won’t find you, but Jeonghan still rounds the corner and finds you. You immediately turn your back to him, wiping your eyes as you face the bookshelf. You can hear him approaching you slowly. “Princess?” he repeats.

You slowly turn over your shoulder to face him, looking him in the eye. You know you probably look ridiculous, but you still have to ask. “Was that your idea of a prank?” you say in a hard voice.

“Not at all,” he replies, his voice equally sharp. “Seungcheol and I threw her out ourselves.”

“You did?” you squeak.

He gives you a sad smile. “Of course. She’s never going to be within fifty miles of you ever again if I can help it.”

You nod, looking at your feet. “Well, that’s good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Jeonghan hesitates, then takes another step forward. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

You avoid his gaze and back up a little, right into the bookshelf. “I don’t see what we have left to talk about,” you hedge.

“Are we back to the bickering?” he asks, sounding frustrated. He steps forward again, nearly toe-to-toe with you, and brings a hand up to your chin, tugging on it gently. “Need you to look at me, princess.”

You lift your eyes to him and are once again overwhelmed by his closeness. You can’t help the deep breath you take at the sight of him. “Why do you keep pretending you hate me?” Jeonghan asks you quietly.

“What do you mean?” you reply.

“I know you don’t really hate me,” he explains. “I’ve known it for months. But I just don’t know why you can’t admit it to yourself. I wish you’d just let it go.” When you don’t reply, he sighs. “I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you. You truly have no equal.”

Your emotions are so overwhelming and close to the surface that this light barb stings a lot more than Jeonghan probably intended. And this sends you over the edge. You bat his hand away and whisper-yell, “Well, you’re selfish, and conceited, and self-important, and conniving, and I don’t know why I --”

But you stop yourself before you give yourself away. Jeonghan impulsively brings his hands to both sides of your face, trapping you in. “Finish the sentence,” he demands. “You don’t know why you...what?”

But the answer won’t come, stuck between your heart and your voicebox, your stubborn mind trying fruitlessly to bar Jeonghan from knowing the truth. But, as is always the case in all the love stories you’ve ever read, the heart is too strong for the mind, and for a moment, it overcomes all rational thought and takes control over your hands. You grab Jeonghan by the collar and pull his lips to yours.

No amount of shock could keep Jeonghan from responding to your kiss. Ever quick on his feet, he brings a hand to the back of your neck so that he can move you in just the way he wants to, and you, for the first time in forever, let go of your need to sort through all your feelings and make them make sense, and give in to your heart entirely. You don't have to think with Jeonghan -- he takes charge in a way that makes your knees feel weak, and you cling to him desperately to avoid toppling over. Jeonghan kisses with even more passion than he had in that closet, with enough fire that you think you both might combust. His lips are searing and insistent, and you melt into his arms. Instinctively, you tangle your fingers in his hair, and he gives a throaty chuckle. “Careful, princess,” he whispers between kisses, and you hum against his lips in bliss.

Eventually, his kisses turn soft and sweet, slowing down to a pace where you can both catch your breath. And then he pulls away. The sight of him with his hair ruffled from your hands and his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright makes you giggle, and he beams at you, his gaze flicking to your lips again. “Wait,” you say before he can kiss you again. “I like you.”

“Duh,” he says with a laugh in his voice.

You swat his arm. “I mean it. I don’t understand how, or why, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the night we met. And compared to you, everyone seems so...dull.” He’s smirking now, and you swat at him again. “Stop it! I’m trying to be sincere.”

“I can’t help it,” he complains, and he’s looking at you so fondly that it’s dangerous. “You’re so cute. And I love to listen to you speak, but when you speak you move your mouth, and suddenly that’s just become so incredibly distracting for me.”

“My lips are distracting?” you repeat, wrinkling your nose in disgust at how corny it is.

“Well, they always were,” Jeonghan admits. “But right now...” He leans in, gives you a peck, and then runs a hand through his disheveled hair and groans. “Oh, it’s nearly too much.”

You giggle again. “You’re truly obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“Embarrassingly so,” he says proudly. “Why else do you think I bribed the person who would’ve sat next to you on the plane to take my seat on Seungcheol and Hani’s flight?”

“You switched flights to travel with me?” Yesterday, this would’ve been annoying to learn -- but now, it’s a little endearing.

He nods. “And I switched classes so that I could take them with you. I’m still going to do that until we graduate, mind you, so if you could please avoid the eight o’clock classes, I would appreciate that so much.”

You tsk in fond exasperation at him. “And all of this time, you didn’t think to tell me that you’re --”

“Head over heels for you? Well, I sort of felt like it probably wouldn’t have gone over well. So I bided my time. And it was worth the wait,” he says, clasping one of your hands to his chest. “There’s absolutely no one like you, princess. You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

You shake your head, although on the inside you feel like angels are singing. “What an end to our war,” you say, snaking your arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“War is such a strong word,” Jeonghan complains. “It was barely a scuffle.”

“You filled my room with pigeons.”

“And that was low-hanging fruit for me.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Entirely,” he agrees. “Which is why I have no plans to return to that ball anytime soon.” He gives you a mischievous smile and once again looks at your lips.

“I can’t miss my best friend’s entire birthday party,” you remind him, playing with a lock of his hair shyly.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “That is a predicament. Might I suggest a compromise?”

“Indubitably,” you say, playing along with his posh tone.

He scoffs. “We go back in an hour. We stay to watch her open her gifts. And then we meet back here.”

“To do what?” you ask him, giving him your own dangerous grin.

“What an excellent question, princess,” he says, leaning in and kissing you deeply and slowly before pulling away just slightly and brushing a stray hair from your face. “I guess we’ll have to play it by ear,” he finally tells you in a low voice. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” you sigh, and then you smirk at him. “Pretty boy,” you add as an afterthought.

His eyes darken. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he threatens. And as he kisses you into oblivion once again, you seriously doubt it.

#seventeen #svt #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x you

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angelkhi · 1 year

Text

love me, hate me - s.r

summary: steve rogers pisses you off, and you piss him off. but is it really ever that simple?

warnings: SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI), p in v, switch steve & reader, face sitting, unprotected sex, talks of bodily fluids, enemies to lovers a little bit, slight hate fucking but also not?? feelings at the end sort of.

word count: 2.8.k

a little note: Happy New Year to you all! finished this at 4 am so not beta’d any mistakes are my own (seriously i just spelled mistakes as ‘mestayks’ so like sorry lol) half based on this request but also something i already had in the works that seemed to mesh xx

"Let's not forget who's doing who a favour." You chide, already irritated by presence.

"Please sweetheart, I'm doing you more of a favour than you realise."

"And how's that Mr Rogers?" You fix his crooked tie. Always picking up after him.

"You walk in there with me? There's no way you're going home alone tonight." He smooths out the collar on his shirt, checking himself over in the mirror. "Your little problem gets solved."

"My little problem?"

"Don't get me wrong, Yels, it's great doing it yourself but it would be nice for someone give me an orgasm every now and then."

"You fuckin pig! You were listening to my conversation?" You're embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. If there's one person that doesn't need to know about your dwindling sex life it's Steve Rogers.

"It's kinda hard not to overhear yours and Yelena's screeching on girls night." Once again those fingers fly up into quotation marks and you have to blink yourself free from the daze you're slipping into.

Maybe Steve does have a point, you're significantly louder after a bottle or two of rose, but it doesn't give him the right to use your own words against you.

"You're a dick, Rogers. It's none of your fucking business how many orgasms I have." He's smirking down at you now, something in his eyes you've never seen before. "Let's just get this over with. I don't want to have to see your face any longer than necessary."

The two of you enter the ballroom together as planned, and heads turn almost instantly. The quiet gasps and turning heads boost his scolded ego more than nicely. But that's all it is. A soothing bandage over a painful wound.

Stark's infamous shindigs that rivalled even the most grand of galas, yet you are the only thing that matters to him in a room filled with expensive champagne and extravagant sculptures. He watches you from across the room, Bucky's latest debrief on Sam's irritating behaviour blending into the mindless background chatter.

You're done up to the nines, pretty hair twisted in some intricate up-do, and that dress. That fucking dress. He wonders if things would be easier if you knew how he really felt about you, that the trading of insults between the two of you is the only way he can resist pinning you against every available surface and fucking the attitude out of you.

You work your charm with everyone that comes up to you, offering you drinks and boring conversation. You know you're in charge, so do they, and so does he.

He spots you talking to a pretty redhead he soon recognises as Wanda, she's changed since he last saw her. But he much more notices the lingering stares and flirtatious touches, the way you lean into each other and laugh a little too loud. Jealousy is no longer a green eyed monster, but a blonde haired, blue eyed super soldier.

You happen to glance over at him in that moment, taking in his tensed jaw and white-knuckle grip on his champagne flute, expecting it to shatter under any more force. He watches as you smirk in his direction, and the go back to the conversation like he wasn't even there. Sam and Bucky pull him away to a conversation that is meant to be important and he loses sight of you for the rest of the evening.

The party starts to get a little too lively towards 11pm, the rowdy crowd excited about the looming new year. You find yourself at the bar, sick of your uncomfortable shoes, ready to get more than drunk, kiss a bottle at midnight and fall into bed with your vibrator once again. Someone slides into the empty seat next to you, speaking to the bar tender. You catch the 'and whatever she's having' and roll your eyes just wanting to be left alone at this point.

Your double vodka and cranberry is slid in front of you and you take a single sip before turning to the man next to you. He's attractive, with his full beard and long brown hair. There's something in his eyes but you don't care enough to find out that much about him. He shakes your hand firmly, introducing himself as Quentin Beck. You smile and thank him when he compliments you, you hum and nod when he tells you about his latest technological venture that sounds weirdly similar to Tony's, you smile coyly when he rests a hand on your thigh and offers to take you somewhere a little less private.

You're silently disappointed that this is the best you could do on a night like tonight but you're not one to look a fort horse in the mouth. He guides you through the crowd with a hand around your waist until the function room doors come into view and your excitement dims even further. Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he stares at Quentin and then his hand on your waste.

"Hey honey." He wraps his fingers around your wrist lightly, stopping you in your tracks. He stares down at you for a second too long, then diverts his gaze to Beck.

"Fuck off." Two words. Two are all it takes for Quentin to crumble.

His hand moves from your waist faster than you can blink and he's already being swallowed up by the crowd when you turn away from glaring at Steve. His fingers linger around your wrist but you shrug him off, and leave the grand ballroom stomping down to the elevator.

He follows you of course, right up to your door, pushing inside when you try and slam it in his face.

"Honey that guy was a creep."

"Don't 'honey' me you just ruined my one good chance of getting laid tonight." You kick off your shoes.

"Well I wouldn't call it a good chance..."

"What was that?!" You're about to fiddle with the zip of your dress but instead steve has your attention and an insane amount of audacity.

"M'just saying he wouldn't have been worth it." He pauses, sitting on your bed uninvited. "Doesn't look like he can find his car keys let alone please a woman."

"I guess I'll never know now." You scoff.

"Use me instead."

What in the sweet baby jesus?!

"How much have you had to drink?" You chuckle, and go back to working your zip.

"You know I can't get drunk. How much have you had to drink?" He retorts, reaching up to undo the zipper for you.

"Not enough for this to be a hallucination. What's in it for you?"

"An orgasm." Fair enough.

"Why are you doing this? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"What? No! I'm just trying to apologise for ruining your New Years hook up." He looks sincere, but then Steve never lies. You on the other hand, would be lying if you said you didn't want to jump his bones at least twenty three and a half of the twenty four hours in the day. And he's offering himself to you on a golden platter. Why turn. it down?

"Strip."

It's a simple word, but it holds so much power. Starting something that may just fucking ruin you. But you want it. He wants it. The easy route be damned. Steve is quick to discard his clothing, looking up at you expectantly waiting for your next request. You simply just let your dress drop, carefully stepping over the expensive fabric and slotting yourself between Steve's legs. His eyes widen when he realises you'd neglected to put on any underwear that evening. She reaches out to touch you, rest a hand on your hip but you slap it away.

"Lay back." You kneel over his hips, excitement fizzling on your skin as he rests on his elbows, taking up an insane amount of space with his broad shoulders and wide thighs. He doesn't move any further, a sly smirk on his lips and wonder in his eyes.

"I said I don't want to see your face, lie the fuck back." You have him under your thumb, and your pussy, when he lays back against the cotton sheets you crawl across his body and rest above his face. His hands grip onto the backs of your thighs, usually light eyes dark with lust.

"No touching." You thread his arms above him, resting forward and pinning them against the pillows. His response is muffled when you lower yourself onto his face. His tongue works wonders when he's not using it to talk and you definitely prefer it when he's not talking.

You grind yourself down against his pliant tongue, clit bumping his stupidly perfect nose with each thrust. You're taking what you deserve from him, what he owes you and you fucking love it. You love the fact that he could easily slip you underneath him, pin you beneath him and pull you apart but instead he's letting you use him, letting you grind yourself to an orgasm on his face.

"You're not so useless after all Rogers, fucking hell." His lips purse around your exposed clit and your thighs shake a little. You press yourself further against him, chasing your well deserved orgasm until you're panting above him half spent.

Lifting yourself off of him, you take in his flushed cheeks and blown out eyes. God he's pretty. Your hand strokes through his hair and he leans into your touch. Putty in your hands.

You reach back, your hands almost dwarfed by the impressive size of his pretty cock. You struggle to wrap your hands around him fully, but when you start stroking him slow but firm it doesn't matter. His face twists into one of pure bliss and his hips fuck up into your fist desperately. Deciding enough is enough you manoeuvre down his body, hovering over his painfully hard weeping cock. You drag him through your folds, almost slipping him in before bumping his engorged head against your clit until you're right on the edge of desperation and finally sink down on him.

You take him slowly at first, unable to stay quiet as he stretches you open. There's a slight sting but my god does it sting so good. Once he's fully sheathed you take a moment to accommodate, grinding down on him, twin moans coming from the two of you. You raise yourself up again, right to the tip and back down, slowly building the rhythm until you're bouncing on his cock, hitting spots you didn't even know existed panting for breath.

"You feel so fucking good." You whimper chasing your own pleasure, fuelled by Steve's. He fists the bedsheets, so obedient trying not to touch you, but you look so pretty and broken and you're touching yourself whilst you ride him, clenching down on his dick so fucking perfectly. He's more vocal than. you expected, grunting and moaning and whining.

"Fuck I'm gonna come. Steve." Your fingers roll your taught nipples between your fingers, pinching and pulling. Steve's hips stutter for a moment, but then he's right there with you, fucking up into your perfect cunt until you're shaking on his dick, grinding your clit against his pubic bone and falling over the edge.

He doesn't give you a second to breath, wrapping his strong arms around you and placing you flat on your back. You're breathless, your vision is still fuzzy but then he's pounding into you. Lifting your leg above his shoulder opening you up up to him even more. You're well and truly fucked. Not a single word or thought or even sound registering. You're just wide eyed and open mouthed and taking what he gives you.

"Not so cocky now are we, hmm sweetheart." His thumb flicks your clit once and you're coming all over again, a loud scream echoing off of the walls.

"There she is. So fucking perfect, taking what you need. Did I do well, did I satisfy your greedy pussy or do you still want more?"

"St-Steve. More." You sound so broken, so unalike yourself but you never want to go back to her when you can be this.

"Course you fuckin do. Play with your tits for me, that's a good girl." He thrusts slow but deep, your weak legs held in position by his huge hands. He relishes in your flushed face and smudged makeup. Your hair has foregone the confines of bobby pins and it's splayed out on the cushion behind you. You're fucking perfect.

"Who's cunt is this?" Your eyes lull into the back of your head when he delivers a quick sharp tap to your clit. "Tell me who's cunt it is and I'll let you cum."

"Y-Yours. Yours Steve."

"Good. And who's fuckin dick is this tearing you apart?" It's all too much, you're on the verge of crying from the overstimulation. "Who's is it?"

"Mine."

"Good fucking girl." He punctuates his words with his thrusts, picking up speed once more and rubbing small quick circles against your clit. Your tears do spill then, dark mascara running down your cheeks when you explode all over him.

He fucks you through the orgasm, pulling out of you when you begin to claw at his chest, leaving pretty marks all over him. He kneels over you, furiously stroking himself to completion until he cums in long white ropes all over your breasts, chest heaving and panting. He collapses next to you, silent as you try to catch your breaths and wrap your head around what just happened.

It shouldn't surprise you when Steve gets up to the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth, but it does. It leaves you stunned. You try not to show it though, nor do you give him a glimpse at how disappointed you are about leaving.

"Damn Rogers, you really know how to hate fuck." Steve's gaze is frantic, but mostly confused.

"Hate? I don't hate you." His eyebrows are pulled together so tightly you're scared they might just fuse into one another.

"Could've fooled me." You pull up your underwear and pull on his shirt foregoing the tight dress.

"Look. I don't. Hate. You. Do you get on my nerves? Sometimes. But I could never hate you."

"So what? You wanna call the way you've treated me since I got here a proclamation of your undying love." He's silent. "You can't be fucking serious Rogers."

"Don't be like that, you gave just as good as you got." You scoff, but it's the truth. "Every time I look at you I want to fuck you, every time I see someone even look at you I wanna fuckin... I don't know!"

"Steve..."

"You terrify me. I have all these feelings for you, but you're so... you. You're so gorgeous, you're potty mouth and you're strong and you don't take shit from no one, not even me. I'm an idiot, I know that and I don't expect a sorry to fix anything, but I need you to know that that wasn't a one time thing, I want you."

"Well fuck. You have feelings for me?" He nods, simple, effective and oh so Steve Rogers. "I thought. I don't know what I though. I walked in here and you just stared at me and left, and I guess I though you took one look at me and decided I wasn't enough. So I decided I was gonna prove you wrong."

"I think you're everything. You've certainly proved me right." He looks angry, at himself at and the situation, but mostly at the fact that you'd ever thought those things about yourself.

"Right pair of idiots we are." You mutter, trying to lighten the you're-not-sure-what mood. He pulls you into his lap, rough hand resting around your waist.

"Aren't we just." He whispers against your lips.

"How many people did you tell to fuck off tonight? Just out of interest."

"Bout 15." He mumbles and then laughs, "don't regret a single one of them though."

You surge forward and press against him. His lips are softer than expected and his movements are so slow, so tentative. You arch into him, greed driving your need to make up for the last few wasted months.

A loud bang erupts from outside of the glass windows, popping into a concoction of golds and reds and pinks, until the New York skyline is littered with individual fireworks displays.

"Happy New Year Rogers." You whisper against his lips, though it turns into a breathless whimper when he pulls your panties to the side. "You get on my nerves too by the way. Like a whole lot."

"Yeah yeah. Happy New Year."

#chris evans #marvel #marvel smut #smut #avengers endgame #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers #nomad steve #chris evans smut #steve rogers fic rec #mcu smut #captain america smut #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america #marvel fic

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softxsuki · 5 months

Note

Hello, congratulations on your milestone!!! I am not sure if there are any spots left, but if there are, can you please do the trope enemies to lovers with a tokyo revengers character? Have a nice day and congratulations again!!!

1.5k Follower Event Trope #1 Tokyo Revengers

Trope 1: Enemies to Lovers

This event is now CLOSED. You can check out the masterlist for this event here.

Warnings: Slight mention of violence and being killed (baji says it once, no one actually dies)

Note: Thank you so much! I had this one sitting in my google docs for while because I didn't like it, but I reread it today and I think it grew on me after letting it sit there for a while lol. Enjoy :D

“Why are you here again?” Baji spits, not impressed at all.

You were another person Mikey had dragged in, finding you interesting and deeming you both friends, not that you minded. You hadn’t joined Toman, but Mikey always invited you over to their base, and you quickly became fond of many of them, including a certain black-haired man that couldn’t find it in him to accept you.

“Still suspicious of me? Seriously Kei, ever thought about loosening up?” You question, walking past him.

The nickname makes Baji’s heart flutter slighty, much to him mentally refusing to acknowledge it. “Oi, I told you about calling me that name. Stop acting like we’re so close to each other! I don’t want you here,” he grits, hating how unfazed you were by his ‘hatred’ for you.

“Yeah yeah, I know you like it,” you tease, disappearing down the stairs to head back home for the day.

Since the first time Mikey introduced you to everyone, Baji had his suspicions about you. How could everyone just openly accept you to hang around them and listen in on their meetings? What if you were working for a rival gang, showing up to get intel for them? Why was he the only one suspicious of you? And why did you have such an affect on him? Your carefree attitude, your disregard for being surrounded by dangerous men. He felt so conflicted.

The longer you hung around, the more he let his walls fall, yet he kept that stubborn, rudeness whenever you were with him. He refused to show that he had somewhat trusted you, let alone that he may or may not have a thing for you–though he’d never admit that to anyone, he could barely admit it to himself.

One day though, you had managed to gain all his trust. You had found a sneaky rat from a rival gang sneaking around Toman’s grounds, just looking for trouble. Could you fight? No. Were you still going to call him out and try and get him to leave? Yes.

You approach the man and begin to threaten him, talking big for someone who couldn’t defend themselves. Baji was watching the whole thing go down from afar. A tinge of suspicion grew as he watched you approach the man who was clearly up to no good and didn’t belong with Toman, but that all vanished as soon as he saw you try and make him leave.

“That idiot,” he grunts to himself, tying his hair up as he makes his way over to you, arriving just in time as the guy goes to throw a punch your way.

Baji quickly pushes you out of the way, and easily beats the guy up, mentally making a note of the gang attire he wore so he could inform Mikey of the situation later.

“Are you insane? It’s like you were just asking to get killed! You should have just shouted for one of us to help, we’d be able to hear you if you screamed loud enough. What kind of idiot who knows they’re weak, tries to fight someone off alone?” Baji went on and on, telling you off, yet all you could do was smile at him.

“Stop looking at me like that with that stupid grin, it isn’t funny”

“Heh, you care about me,” you smirk, egging him on.

“Of cour- What?! NO! No, I don't. What made you ever come to that conclusion?” He screamed, his face growing red at his almost confession. Why were you so irritatingly cute?

He could deny it all he wanted, but it was obvious how he felt for you. Now knowing that he could trust you, he started hanging around you more often. And after a few more months, he became the one who’d invite you over.

“You know…you could just ask me out instead of staring at me all the time. I’d say yes.” You say from beside him, feeling his eyes on you as you sit side by side on the shrine steps.

“What?! I-” He groans, feeling stupid that he was so obvious. With a sigh, he looks away from you. “Then let’s date.”

You didn’t expect him to actually go along with it. Who knew the man who had hated you so much would be secretly admiring you and finally have the guts to ask you out.

“Sure,” you shrug, feeling your own face heat up.

It would take some time to fully warm up, but dating was the first step, a large step from where you’d been with each other before.

Posted: 1/2/2024

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littledollll · 1 year

Note

If you don't mind, could you please write an enemies to lovers style smut? The reader is a new English teacher coming from a rival school but Larissa wasn't the one who chose them it was the board or something so she feels powerless. This leads to her taking it out on the reader and them bickering constantly about the reader's eccentric teaching that she'll never admit she finds amusing. Which leads to hate fucking (they both want to be the one in charge which leads to a lot of forced submission from them both) but after a particular hate fuck they both realise they need the others comfort as Larissa reluctantly requests the reader to stay with her and the reader is happy she wants them to so they both look at eachother like oh shit- which leads to them going for round two trying to prove that they don't care and aren't gonna go soft on the other? But ultimately ends with them both in each others arms really soft and confessing how much the other means to them?

Quiet

Larissa Weems x Reader

A/n: i have another request so similar but the way I built the other plot I couldn’t mix it but it’s rly the same idea😭this is pure smut, the plot is in between and thrown around a little but for rivalry plot here u go “Personal”

I didn’t exactly follow the request to a T but listen my mind just kept going so here we are, still I feel like I got the main idea down so I hope that’s okay.

Warnings: kinda hate sex but they don’t hate eachother, thribbing because it’s HOT, cunnulings, fingering, edging/ orgasm denial (once), overstimulation

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Never in her life did Larissa think this is where she’d end up with the person she swore to hate. All the bickering and fighting turning into tension, turning into this.

Yet another discussion in the privacy of her office, nothing unusual. Turned into a hungry kiss and that turned into make outs, desperate touches, scrambling to get eachothers clothes off.

This became a habit. You would get into some type of trouble, or Larissa would find any excuse to have you in her office. You’d argue back and fourth until fighting turned into kissing and it ended in probably the best orgasms of both of your lives.

Some days there would be no issues, you wouldn’t argue there was no build up, you showed up and shared a look and that’s how it would start.

Regardless of how it started, it would always end the same, the both of you exhausted yet sexually satisfied and then you’d walk away with a heartache and wait for the next time.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

Larissa sat on her knees as you laid on her bed. This was new, you had never stumbled out of the four walls of her office until today.

Parting your thighs, Larissa wasted no time before diving into you cunt.

You moaned out, hands finding purchase in her hair, completely ruining her perfect styling as you pulled her against you, desperately grinding against her skilled tongue.

“fuck, you look good like that, between my thighs like a good girl, is this what you needed? You’ve been insufferable for the past week.” Big talk when you were a stuttering and moaning mess above her. You managed to rile her up regardless.

“Quiet, before I ride that pretty face of yours to keep you quiet.” Did that sound like a fucking deal, but at the moment you needed her, so you bit back your snarky remarks.

“You look good with your mouth shut.” She teased, continuing her ministrations between your thighs, two fingers curling to meet you sweet spot and your legs quivered as you forced them open.

Hips bucking, you held her head against you, using her to get yourself off when she pulled back, making you whine. “I’ve only just started and you can barely control yourself. Were you gonna come already? Greedy girl.” Larissa mocked as she moved up your body.

“Fuck me Larissa, come on.” And god was she about to. As she situated herself between your legs, you could feel her arousal against your own, how every slight movement created delicious friction between the two of you, yet she didn’t move.

She busied herself marking your skin, across your chest, collarbones and neck. You could feel your skin aching, that delightful dull throbbing that followed after she sucked it until it bruised making you moan and buck your hips against her.

Larissa moaned into your neck, and it encouraged you to keep grinding against her, you sat up slightly against the pillows behind you making it easier for you.

It was messy, filled with desperation and lust. The constant friction of her clit against yours was driving you mad and clearly she was just as affected as her teasing remarks were reduced to pants and whimpers.

At first it was you doing all the work, but Larissa got impatient, needy. She started moving her hips against yours, wanton moans escaping her lips even as she attempted to hide against your neck.

Your hands found her hips as you helped her grind against you and you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening more and more. “Kiss me, Issa please- ‘m gonna cum please, kiss me.” And who was she deny your begging?

Sure, it was needy, but it wasn’t messy, it wasn’t heated and charged with frustration, her lips felt so soft against your own. It felt intimate, how you would part but only slightly. Interrupted by moans and the harsh grinding of your bodies but you wouldn’t break away completely because you knew you would continue.

You saw stars as you orgasmed, and Larissa followed quickly behind you. Whimpers escaping you both as neither seemed willing to stop, even as you continued towards overstimulation.

In a second her lips were back on yours, her tongue running over your lips begging for entrance which you gladly allowed. You could feel her everywhere, she completed overtook every part of your body and mind and you had no complaints.

Everything felt like too much, her stuttering hips against yours as she refused herself or you a break, she had you gasping, hands struggling to get her to still as she only pressed herself closer against you, she was close, you knew she was as she started getting lost in her own pleasure. “Issa-“

She shushed you through her whimpers. “Just one more- please just one more, you feel so good-please.” She nuzzled into your neck leaving even more marks, breathing getting heavier until you felt her tense up and bite your shoulder. You winced, eyes screwing shut as you both fell over the edge.

You took a second to catch your breaths, and Larissa moved from on top of you and to the bathroom on shaking legs. You guessed that was your queue to leave and you hoped to any and all gods that you’d be able to walk out fine. You didn’t notice Larissa coming back out, wash cloth in her hand.

“Stay. Lay back down.” You looked at her confused but complied. Larissa moved back to the bed, sitting between your thighs and parting them, which quickly made you snap them shut. “I’m just cleaning you up, can I do that?” You nodded.

It felt so odd, you’ve never stayed post sex, you’d get back to your room and clean up, opting to just stay in bed for the remainder of the day. She was gentle and the wash cloth was cold against your burning body. “Stay the night. If- if you want I mean, I’d like you to stay.” You could only nod. Letting out a quiet “okay, good.” Larissa put the cloth down and laid with you.

It was calm and quiet for a bit, both of you enjoying eachothers warmth and comfort, shivers running down your body every time Larissa would lay a kiss on one of your marks, she payed special attention to the bite, almost apologetically. “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?” She said voice low as if it was a secret, tracing the bite mark with a finger. It looked pretty, to her anyways.

You decided to follow that air of quietness. “I’m okay.” A pause. “Larissa- can’t keep doing this and leaving, I don’t want to go. And today- I mean today felt so different. Please tell me you feel that too.” You were terrified she’d just yell at you to get out. Yet she didn’t, she hugged you closer.

“I want you to stay, no more walking away and I don’t want this to continue being just sex, I’ve fallen for you- much more than I’d like to admit. Be with me, say you’ll be mine, darling.”

You were filled with joy. “As long as you say you’ll be mine.” She felt the same, she knew exactly what you were talking about she felt it all. And she wanted you to be hers.

“Seems like we can finally agree on something.” She quipped. And you rolled your eyes. “Seems like we can.”

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems nevermore #larissa weems wednesday #larissa weems fluff #larissa weems smut #larissa x reader #larissa Wednesday #Wednesday weems #principal weems smut

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moonyswritinq · 1 month

Note

I can’t wait to read your fics! Your writing is awesomeeee!

Can we know whatchu got in the inbox already plsssss?

(Btw I just discovered your blog but it’s so cooooool!)

😍

* REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR NOW ! *

thank you so much! it really means a lot to me to hear that <3

and for sure, I'll tell you what I got, in no particular order. I've written what the ship is, the form it's going to be written in—if it's decided (which can be subject to change if you have opinions on it)—, context to it and its status if it's started. I also added some projects that I haven't had requested but are working on, just in case you are curious about that (because I realised I had not updated about them for about a year, so sorry).

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST, REQUEST RULES

Dead Boy Detectives

Charles Rowland:

Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — based on the song 'So American' by Olivia Rodrigo : finished

Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — reader is short and alive

Charles x male reader, oneshot — Charles pines for reader and doesn't know how to confess his feelings

Charles x gn reader, headcanons — just cute headcanons : just started

Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — established relationship, alive reader who is psychic/has powers

Charles x male reader, headcanons and oneshot — Charles with an s/o who is European (prob Italian)

Charles x alive! gn reader, oneshot — how Charles would react to Crystal and Niko's roomate (reader) getting hurt on a case

Charles x alive! gn reader, oneshot — Charles is worried the reader will get hurt if they help on cases, so in retaliation they stubbornly put on loads of iron jewelry to keep him from stopping them

Edwin Payne/Paine:

Platonic Edwin x sibling! gn reader, oneshot — reader has been wandering the earth as a ghost in search of their brother, and accidentally run across him in a small town in America : finished

Platonic Edwin x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — reader is a witch and Edwin does not trust them in the beginning, but they end up with a sibling relationship

Edwin x psychic! alive male reader, headcanons and oneshot — reader is the opposite of his partner Edwin; energetic, outgoing, impulsive, and often gives him ghost heart attacks trying to prevent him from dying

Monty the Crow:

Monty x gn reader, prob oneshot — non-native reader (prob French) that struggles with english and Monty thinks it's cute/reassures them

Monty x male reader, headcanons and oneshot — vampire gothic reader who shows affection in strange ways and loves to listen to Monty talk

Monty x gn (maybe male) reader, oneshot — painting Monty's nails black in a tender and intimate scene

Monty x ghost!gn reader, oneshot or headcanons — Monty goes after the wrong ghost

Monty x male (or genderfluid) reader, oneshot or headcanons — Monty has a crush on reader but feels guilty because of Esther's plan

Thomas the Cat King:

Thomas x male reader, oneshot — enemies/rivals to lovers where reader is more of a dog person so you know it's going to be lots of tension : just started

Thomas x ftm reader, prob oneshot — a fallen angel reader who got hurt and gets reassurance and help from The Cat King

Thomas x male reader, prob headcanons — reader is stoic and ace, yet not sex-repulsed, but The Cat King has to work differently to gain his affections than through his sexuality

Thomas x gn reader (or x Edwin), oneshot — a poor soul narrowly avoided Esther's capture and takes refuge in The Cat King's palace

Thomas x male reader, oneshot or headcannons — enemies to lovers with the Cat King and the Dog King (reader)

Thomas x mage!gn reader, oneshot — the reader is Edwin's descendant and helps out on cases, always thinking about the two ghosts and never about themselves. The Cat King notices this and helps them unearth some repressed desires

Painland/Payneland:

Charles x Edwin, prob oneshot — friends to lovers in a non-modern AU where they didn't die

Charles x Edwin, oneshot — Charles realises his feelings earlier and says he loves Edwin back in that scene

Edwin / The Cat King:

Edwin x Thomas, oneshot — Edwin finds himself paying a lot of attention to cats in London, though he hasn't figured out why, which is something The Cat King notices and decides to send him a little something to remind Edwin of him

Edwin x Thomas, oneshot — the rest of the Detective Agency find out about Edwin's relationship with The Cat King and chaos ensues

Miscellaneous:

Dead Boy Detectives x male reader, oneshot — reader has powers and works with the detectives on a case

Poly Edwin x Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — established relationship with fluffy moments between the three : may not be written (don't love poly but we'll see)

Dead Boy Detectives x supernatural!male reader, headcanons — the boys get a crush on the feminine presenting supernatural being and then finds it out he's a man

Platonic! Edwin x gn reader x Thomas, oneshot — part two of Runs in the Family, The Cat King finds out Edwin has a sibling and shifts his attention : may not be written (there will be NO incest)

Lord of the Rings

Legolas Greenleaf:

Legolas x male reader, oneshot — reader and Legolas drink way too much at a pub, ignoring any onlookers and opting to share a dance together : not requested

The Marauders

Regulus Black:

Regulus x ftm reader, oneshot — fluffy scene, maybe dysphoria comfort

Regulus x male reader, oneshot/series — academic rivals to lovers that resolves with a lot of tension at a Slytherin party : not requested, almost finished

The Maze Runner

Newt:

Newt x male reader, prob oneshot — Newt is very protective of reader, could be in the Glade or in the Scorch Trials or in the Last City

Newt x ftm reader, headcanons and oneshot — best friends to lovers and everyone in the Glade knows about them

The Umbrella Academy

Male Original Character, series — with a charismatic & overdramatic who flirts with everyone, multiple ships : not requested, but a long work in progress

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank:

JJ x male reader, oneshot — reader is a surfer and manages to impress JJ enough to get invited to a party, where they play truth or dare and silly things happen : not requested

Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes:

Sherlock x male reader (or oc), oneshot — reader is a genius, autistic, and a cat person, and help Sherlock with one of his cases, thus earning his attention immediately : just started

Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

Obi-Wan x male reader, oneshot — part two of Caught in the Moment, which would be the aftermath of them finding out about Obi-Wan and the reader's relationship during a joint training session

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson:

Eddie x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — shy reader who needs to let loose, Eddie takes it upon himself to show them a good time and they really come out of their shell

Eddie x male reader, oneshot — reader stumbles onto Eddie's magasins which are bookmarked with people that look suspiciously like reader, so gay confession ensues : may not be written (original request too lewd so I changed but don't know if I'm inspired enough to write it)

hope this helps if you want to request something or just to see what's to come in the near future :) you guys have really put me to the test and to work and I appreciate it more than you can believe. if you cannot see a request you've made her then I will not write it, sorry (prob bc it went against my rules or was too sexual).

if you want to encourage me to write faster/more a good way is to read, like, reblog, and comment what I have already written. I loooove feedback and encouragement

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tlouxx · 10 months

Text

Electromagnetism - p. 2

~ ellie williams x reader

——————————————————————————

part one | part three <3

synopsis: you and ellie williams have been long time rivals. you're a physics majors at wellesley college, and you’re competing for the same spot in the prestigious dr. ramsey’s lab as ellie. suddenly neither of you can escape the other as you’re both trying to navigate your final year of college.

content: college!ellie, mean!ellie, modern au, academic rivals to lovers, forced proximity, swearing, banter, eventual smut i swear, tensions rising between ellie and reader

——————————————————————————

Day 22

PHYS 302: Quantum Mechanics

It’s only a few weeks into the semester, and this class is already demanding way too much of my time. Ellie and I are still sitting next to one another. I think both of us are too proud to move. Our first exam is coming up in less than a week, and to say I'm nervous is an understatement. I can tell Ellie is stressed out about it too. She’s been studying every free second, biting her nails down to a nub, and she wore that same shirt yesterday. Not that I’m keeping track! We are spending a significant amount of time together between our class schedule and work. I guess you begin to notice little details about someone when you’re with them almost everyday. Even if it isn’t by choice.

…

I can’t think straight. So many variables are swirling around in my thoughts. Ellie. My increasing anxiety. This exam. Being the best at what I do. The professor lecturing is only background noise to the ardent contemplation of the current state of my life. Quite frankly I’m struggling to understand what a quantum state is or why I should care about it. I’m only brought back to reality when I realize that Dr. L is talking to me.

“Are you listening?”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

“Can anyone else tell me what the variables are that define the quantum state of a system?”

Ellie quickly speaks up, “Compatible and Incompatible.”

“Correct, Miss Williams.” Dr. L glares at me as she turns back around to the dusty chalkboard.

…

I want to throw my head down against the desk. I knew that, and now I’ve made myself look like a fool in front of the class. I’m just so distracted by Ellie lately. Ever since she got in my face and said she intended to get the same lab position I’ve been dying to have, I feel frozen in time. I knew she wanted it, but it’s real now that she’s said it out loud. Getting into Dr. Ramsey’s lab could mean I have a fighting chance at grad school or even a future in research. It’s fucking important to me. It occurs to me that maybe Ellie and I could have an alliance. After all the saying goes, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

…

In the corner of my eye, I see Ellie chewing on her pencil. She’s studying again while I’m stuck explaining basic calculus to a freshman. It’s 8:07 p.m. Only 23 minutes till the end of my shift, but I tell her anyway that we’re closed for the night. I needed to escape the monotony of derivatives and integrals.

Ellie’s head lifts up as she hears me escort the girl out the door. It seems I piqued her curiosity, “Why did you tell her we’re closed?”

“She’s going to fail calculus with or without my help." I slump back in my chair knowing I'm barely conscious from my lack of sleep. "I’m just exhausted today. I don’t want to explain integrals again.”

A smile appears on Ellie’s face. She looks down at her hands before looking up at me again. I think I almost made her laugh.

“Trust me. I heard you explain it to her multiple times. I get it.”

Before I know it, a smile is materializing on my face too. I laugh knowing we have a mutual understanding. To be honest, Ellie kinda intimidates me. Maybe that's why when I’m around her it makes my body feel like it’s on fire. I can hear my heart pumping as she starts to move in closer to me ever so slightly. I know she’s waiting for me to say something else. Maybe I should say something else. I hope she doesn't notice how I choke on my words as I try to speak.

…

“Um, while we’re uh talking… I was just wondering how you felt about the exam on Friday.”

Ellie settles into her seat. Confidence seeps out of every pore of her body. I watch as she sets down the pencil she was once chewing on. “It’ll be easy. Maybe not for you, but it will be for me.”

“Sure… Ellie." I mirror her position. Trying to emulate the confidence she exudes. "I was just going to offer you some study tips in case you needed them.” I remark back at her.

She leans forward in her chair. Without warning, the air between us seems to thicken. “You could barely keep up today in class. I certainly don’t need any of your help.”

I lean forward too. “Really? Because I think that you’re studying every second you get because you know I’m better than you."

I stand up, and walk toward Ellie. As I begin to close the space between us, Ellie lifts herself out of her seat. She almost looks like she can't believe I'm saying this "..and you can’t stand the thought of it.”

Ellie looks like she's about to say something. Her mouth opens but closes. She turns around and opens up her bookbag. I watch as she rips a piece of paper out of a notebook. She writes something down.

She turns back around with a paper crumbled in her hand. Ellie inches toward me just like she did on our first night working together. My breath catches in my throat as my mouth goes dry. She pushes the piece of paper into my chest as I stumble backward.

She swivels on her foot and begins to pack up her things. I grab the paper and look at it. She remarks “It's my number for when you realize you’re the one who needs my help.”

…

As I walk out of work, the cold of the night makes goosebumps appear all over my arms. I am still in shock of what just happened. Ellie pushes past me and into the emerging nightfall. Her perfume lingers behind. She smells of mint and eucalyptus. Not wanting to disturb her, I continue walking a few paces behind her.

My head feels clouded. I feel overwhelmed by all of the thoughts spinning around in my head. Did she seriously just do that?

The moon brightens up the night sky as Ellie exits my view. My apartment building is only a few blocks away. I need to tell someone else about what happened tonight. I pull my phone out of my back pocket to text Dina.

8:33 P.M

you will never guess what just happened to me tonight

D: What??! Spill please!

Well... I asked Ellie about the exam in 302 and she basically said it’d be easy for her, but not me. So i said well maybe i could give you tips so you wouldn’t have to study every second of the day. then she gave me her number?!!! and said to text her when i realize that i am the one that needs help??

D: oh my fucking god.

isn’t she crazy?

D: I mean.. I think you both are.

D: but i’m curious if that’s her real number?

D: send it to me and i’ll let you know.

you have her number?

D: we might’ve exchanged numbers at some point..

???

D" well…. we kissed once or twice.

D: but we're not talking anymore

omg. DINA! why didn’t you tell me!!!

D: I thought you'd be mad and it was casual!!

D: send me the number!!!

I threw my phone onto my bed after I sent the number over to Dina. I doubt Ellie would give me her real number. She probably just wanted to fuck with me. Not that it matters if its real or not.. I wouldn’t text her anyway.

I’m disappointed that Dina didn’t feel like she could tell me about her and Ellie. I’m supposed to be there for her like she has been for me. I let this stupid rivalry get in the way of our friendship. Although when I look back on it, I don’t think they tried to hide it either. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the fact that she was my nemesis to realize that Ellie and Dina were practically sitting on top of each other at parties or both missing at the same time. How could I have been so naïve to miss this?? My phone vibrates on my comforter. I feel my stomach drop. I’m not sure I even want to know. I open my messages with one eye open.

8:47 P.M.

yep. that's ellie’s number.

…

Day 26

PHYS 302 : Quantum Mechanics

The sun is shining in through the cracks of my blinds. My eyes are barely open. I feel the fatigue wash over me. The warmth of my bed is all-encompassing, but I know I have to pull the covers aside. My legs feel like lead as I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth. The darkness under my eyes looks deeper than usual. I pulled an all-nighter studying for the exam today. I’m debating if I have enough time to run to the coffee shop down the street. I’m in desperate need of caffeine.

I end up walking to get coffee.I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes open without it. The wind is starting to have a chill to it as summer slowly bleeds away. The bell rings as I walk in the door. This is the coffee shop I originally met Dina in. Her hair was shorter then. Our friendship continued to develop the more and more I came here. Then we found out we were working together at the tutoring center, and well the rest is history.

…

Walking into class with my iced latte in hand, I see Ellie. Her hair looks more disheveled than usual and her clothes wrinkled. Maybe I’m not the only one who pulled an all-nighter.

I’m not sure if the caffeine is helping me or just making my anxiety worse. Despite my fear that I may not have studied enough, I feel confident. I tell myself today is going to be the day I’ll be setting the curve. Not Ellie. Staying up all night is going to be goddamn worth it when I see that smirk Ellie wears off her face.

I look over at her as I sit down. She’s still biting her nails, but she doesn’t look at me.

I shift my body to look at her. She finally looks up from her notes. I whisper to her “Goodluck Ellie.”

Ellie looks at me and winks. She is wearing her exhaustion on her face, but her self-assurance is ever-present, “Goodluck to you too, sweetheart.”

I turn back around seething. The heat is rising to my cheeks, but I don’t have time to think further because Dr. L starts handing out our exams. I’m ready for it.

…

I’ve been anxiously pacing my room. Biting my nails even. I think Ellie is rubbing off on me. I dismiss the thought of becoming more like Ellie. The grades are going to be out tonight in 20 minutes. I continue walking back and forth on the hardwood floors of my room. I need to distract myself for just a little while longer. Instead, I keep brooding over my conversations with Ellie and the moment this exam score will come out.

Only a few minutes are left until the email will pop up in my inbox. I spend this time running over the exam in my head again. I’m pretty confident I answered everything correctly. Well maybe except for question 25, but I think I’m overthinking it.

My laptop pings, and I know it’s the results. My hands are damp as I lift open the screen. The subject line reads Exam Results. I click on the link

9:30 P.M.

Subject : Exam Results

Congratulations,

You’ve received the top grade on exam one with a score of 100%. Take pride in this!

Sincerely,

Dr. L

…

I am buzzing with excitement. I shoot up out of my seat and sigh with relief knowing my hard work was worth it. I subconsciously start thinking of Ellie. How she feels in this moment knowing that I did better than her. I take pleasure in thinking that she’s jealous of me. Thinking of me right now too. I catch sight of Ellie’s note crumpled up on my desk. Before I know it, her number is in my phone, and I’m typing out a text to her.

9:32 P.M.

Need my tips now Ellie?

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x you #dina tlou #rivals to lovers #slow burn #forced proximity #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #mean!ellie #college!ellie williams #college!au #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou

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dr3amlab · 10 months

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7. wicked games

SUMMARY. Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING. Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE. series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT. 2956 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. i feel like this is rushed :/ I didn't have anymore inspo for the story, but i didn't want to leave the story unfinished. I hope you like it :3 NOT PROOF READ AND I MAY CORRECT IT.

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6

TAGLIST. @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @charlenasaxen @johnmurphys-sass @alittlebitofinsanitea @islayedyourmom @dramatic-long-coats @slashermadness @marplest @whosyourgnomie4 @makhaia @louieblue2 @born2222die @nikki-89 @jamlessgucciswegsunshineot7 @rachelccollier @imwaysthelastchoice @dracosgrf @vinkiesz @sleepinmoonbean @skiejustskie @hxl06 @iluvsebastiansallow @keira-kaz2y5 @iraa567 @marxlu @narcissisicus @ashicerye @yagurlyve @mayapapaya18 @afro-hispwriter @tinafuentes @kaibie @drscobading

VII. STAR-CROSSED LOVERS.

"Out of all the people in this school, she decided to go with Potter?" Draco chuckled to himself like a madman, "what's wrong with him? he's been like that for the entire afternoon," Theodore whispered to Blaise, "man, I don't know! I think he's broken or something," Blaise replied. Swiftly, the latter grabbed a pillow from one of the common room's couch to throw it on his friend in order to get his attention.

“Dray, what’s wrong with you? You look like a maniac!” Theodore exclaimed as soon as he and Blaise got their friend’s attention, “what’s wrong with me? More like what’s wrong with Gorgon!” Draco’s friends sighed as they didn’t could probably recite from memory every word that was going to come out of Draco’s mouth. Can you blame them? Who would want to hear their friend have a ted talk about someone they allegedly hate?

Theodore and Blaise have known from the moment you and Draco met that he liked you. They saw how you picked his interest and how he would always put so much thought and effort on the prank he did to get back at you. His friends knew that if draco didn't actually like you, he wouldn't even acknowledge your existence.

Blaise scratches the left side of his nose, which is a gesture he always does when he’s annoyed, “what did she do?” he sighed, not even bothered to hide how much he didn’t want to listen to his rant about you. Theodore on the other side, already took a seat on one of the many sofas of the common room. Well, ‘taking a seat’ isn’t the most appropriate wording to describe the way he took a sit : the boy was literally sprawled on the couch. He knew he had to get comfortable because Draco’s rant was about to be unnecessarily long, and, most importantly, he knew that he was going to end up in morpheus' arms.

“This morning, i was going to class, and I—" draco started his rant, "I don't got time for the entire story, just make it short," Theodore intervened earning a glare from Draco, "Basically, I thought Y/N was going to ask me to the ball, turns out she just wanted to ask me to get my 'fangirls' away from her. And the worst, is that she's actually going with Potter!" Theodore and Blaise shared a funny look which didn't go unnoticed by Draco who frowned his eyebrows, "Did I say something wrong?" He asked confusedly which made both of his friends burst into laughter, "ain't no way," Theodore laughed, "you're actually, jealous?" This sentence alone made Blaise and Theodore laugh like hyenas, "Yeah! Aren't you the one that once said, and i quote, 'if I ever feel any other feelings for Y/N other than hate, check me in a psych ward'?" Blaise said as he tried to get his breath back from laughing too much, "yeah!", theodore laughed, "which psych ward do you choose?"

"Is your head empty? Or did you lose the plot?" Draco said defensively, not wanting to admit that he had caught feelings for you. But Draco was not stupid : he knew that his friends caught on, and him denying his feelings for you was, perhapsn only a matter of pride. "I'm not jealous! Can't you guys see that both of my enemies are literally forming an alliance? I know Y/N just did this to piss me off, For Merlin's sake, she knows how I feel about potter"

The look of despair, or maybe even pity, was so prominent in Theodore's and Blaise's eyes. So instead of making Draco get back to his senses and admit his feelings for you, they decided to try another approach, "I mean, what if she actually likes him?" Blaise said while shrugging his shoulders to which draco frowned, "True, like look at him! Isn't he the chosen one or something? If I didn't know better, I'd also totally be in love with him." Theodore agreed.

A silence took over the room, the boys were looking at each other awkwardly due to Theodore’s unnecessary comment, "Oh, boy! look at the time! We need to go back to class," Blaise said as he looked at his watch, "All we're saying is that you make your move before Harry Pottah snatches your girl," Theodore suggested as he got up from the couch he was sprawled on, and Blaise nodded his head in agreement as he squeezed Draco's shoulder.

The boys left Draco all alone with his thoughts. Draco was beyond annoyed. He knew you liked him, he caught on with all the clues : The letters, the amortentia and you implicitly admitted it by being speechless to his question. And yet, you were going to the ball with Potter ? That's where he drew the line. He sure hoped that you were playing a stupid prank on him, and if you didn't, things were going to get ugly. Malfoy didn't know how, but he was going to put an end to all these wicked games.

Draco poked his tongue inside his cheek, "Really, Potter?" he grumbled for the nth time on this day as he grabbed his backpack harshly.

"Really, potter?" Athena said as you dragged her by the arm in the hallway, earning curious looks from the other students. "Please, please! stop repeating this," you pleaded, almost ready to get down on your knees to beg her to put an end to your suffering.

"But, why Y/N? You make me so tired!" Athena huffed, "everything was going so smoothly, I could almost picture myself at you and draco's wedding. But, noooo! you had to add Potter to the equation." she said, "Wedding? You are so sick Athena,” you said as you pretended to gag, “besides, is not like i had a choice. Potter was the first one to go through that door ! Do you really think i’d choose him on purpose?” you asked doubting that your friend even knew you well.

“you had a choice to not imply that you had a date to the ball!” Athena exclaimed. You didnt know how to answer her because she had a point : Maybe, just maybe, if you didn’t say that you were going with Potter to the ball, this whole saga between you and Draco actually would’ve been over. You sighed as you knew that you made whatever situation was going on between you and Draco even longer.

“Harry’s coming towards us. Act natural,” Athena whispered, "shit, I forgot that he'll want some clarifications," you said as you drew a big smile on your face.

You felt someone tap on your shoulder, "Y/N," you recognized Harry's voice, "oh, hey Potter! what are you doing here?" you asked as soon as you made eye contact with him, "What am I doing here? in school?" he said confused, "oh, c'mon! you know what I meant, Harry," you playfully slapped his shoulder, "Uh, yeah, right." He scratched the back of his head.

"Look, I understand you have some feud going on with Draco for quite some time right now," he started, "and I really do not want to get involved in it. I mean, you understand, right? You know that Draco and I aren't exactly the best of friends," he continued as you knew damn well what the end of his sentence will sound like, "Obviously, I'm afraid I won't be able to go to the ball with you Y/N. Plus, there's already someone I'd like to go with," he said while avoiding any kind of eye-contact with you.

You put your hand on his biceps gently, "I get it, Harry ! don't worry about that. I was wrong to involve you in the first place," you smiled, "anywho, who's the lucky girl?" you asked noticing a faint hint of blush on the boy's cheek. Harry looked reluctant to say the name of the person that had the key to his heart ; he opened and closed his mouth, almost resembling a goldfish. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” you smiled, “besides, i’ll wait for the ball to see who’s the lucky one,” you added. Harry bid you and Athena goodbye and walked rather quickly, almost running, from you guys.

You wondered what made him want to run away from you guys. Was it something you said ? Did you prey too much on his private life ?

Turns out, it was neither. All you had to do was to turn around to see the answer of your question. “Jeez! Where the fuck do you keep popping from, Malfoy?” You put your hand on your heart as an attempt to try to calm its hectic heartbeats.

Draco frowned at you, "what were you talking about just now?" it was now your turn to frown, "why do you care?," you replied. For a second, Malfoy's frowned turned into surprise but he regained his composure, "I don't care! Matter of fact, I could care less about you and that prick were talking about!" He pointed to the door behind you, "I'm just trying to get to that room and you're blocking the way, move!" You looked behind you, only to find you were standing in front of the girls' bathroom.

"You're turning to go to the...girl's bathroom?" You asked and on draco's cheeks, a faint hint of red appeared, "yeah? besides, it's none of your business!" Draco got defensive and you chuckled in a way that made Malfoy's heart skip a beat, "Sure, weirdo," you replied, "i'll leave you tend to your," you stopped your sentence, "business".

The ink was slowly drying under Draco's gaze. To make the process a little faster, Malfoy was blowing on the paper.

You see, the boy had a plan : As the ball was approaching, Draco was still persuaded that you were going with Harry. Therefore, Malfoy had to act quick to change your mind. And so, his last resort was to write you a note in hope that it would make you change your mind.

As the ink finally dried on the paper, and Draco's decision was made, the latter read the note for the nth time :

"Meet me tonight at 10 pm sharp in the astronomy tower. D.M."

His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, he could even hear his heartbeat in his ears if he were to hold his breath. Since when did you have this effect on him? You made him feel so giddy that it was ridiculous. He had never met someone like you, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to have such an encounter as you were so unique.

Gathering all of his courage, he grabbed one of his signature black envelopes, put the piece of paper in it and sealed it with green wax.

"Let's hope for the best," he mumbled to himself as he placed the enveloped that contained all of his courage written in a single sentence on the corner of his desk.

He planned to give you the note tomorrow morning, so, needless to say, this was going to be a sleepless night for draco.

To say that today was the best day you've experienced so far would be a stretch, yet, this was how you truly felt. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't run out of hot water while you were taking your daily morning shower, how you managed to do your hair without ending up in tears of frustration or because they served your favorite for breakfast in the cafeteria : Anywho, today is the best day ever and you're not letting anyone ruin it for you. I mean, even your breakfast was tastier than usual.

As you were savoring your breakfast, a black envelope fell gently on the side of your plate. You looked at it curiously, you didn’t expect to receive any mail today. Placing your cutlery on the table, you grabbed the envelope and something caught your attention : The green seal.

“Is this from Draco?” you whispered to yourself, and as you brought your hand to the black envelope to carefully break the seal, you couldn't help to wonder why he would send you a letter.

As you took out the piece of paper that was contained In the envelope to read it, you felt someone mumble in your right ear, "Meet me tonight at 10 pm sharp in the astronomy tower, signed D.M." Of course, you had recognized that voice : it was Athena, "Hey! Don't read that! it's personal," you exclaimed as you brought the paper close to your chest, "D.M.?!" Athena said, "As in 'Draco Malfoy?'" she half-screamed with a mouthful of pancakes in her mouth and eyes wide as saucers.

"I think so," you said as you examined the letter over and over and over again. "Are you going? Please tell me that you're going," she pleaded, "I don't know," you shrugged your shoulders, "I need to think about it," you said, "Well, you better think fast!"

By noon, you already decided that you were going to face Draco and finally bury the hatchet with him.

And by midnight, after successfully avoiding Flich, you made your way up to the top of the astronomy tower. After climbing the entirety of the steps, you saw the one who stole your heart : there he was, in all his glory, facing the stars as he patiently waited for you to come. The silence of the starry night was broken by the sound of his suave voice, "did you have fun playing with my feelings?", he started, "was it entertaining to you, Gorgon?" He turned around to look in your eyes.

You frowned your eyebrows, "chill, Draco! It was just a prank. Didn't we already talk about this?", you told him as you watch his face turn into a frown, "I'm not talking about the letters, Y/N," his grey eyes starred straight at yours, and you felt intimidated in this moment, "What are you talking about then?" you managed to say without stuttering.

"I'm talking about the fact that I was truly convinced you liked me after you had smelled the amortentia that day, but there you go, asking Potter to go with you to the ball as if you don't even feel a thing for me." You could swear you heard his usual monotone voice break a little, "Do you still love me, Y/N?" he asked with a sincere look in his eyes.

There was no need to hide it anymore, you did have feelings for Draco and he undoubtedly knew it. However you couldn't find the strength in yourself to say it loud and clear because, well, you will still in denial : it felt like the moment you would say those three words to him, it would only confirm to you that you have feeling for him.

"Why does it matter, Draco?" you said desperately, "Do you love me, Y/N?" he repeated, but this time, it seemed like he demanded you to say it. "Why do you care?" you sighed.

"Because," he looked away from you, "Because I'm in love with you, Y/N!" he exclaimed, and you were taken aback.

Draco took three steps towards you, as an attempt to make the distance between you two a little less far, for all he wanted was to feel closer to you, "It's you. it has always been you, Y/N. Since the moment i laid my eyes on you, I knew that we were meant to be together." Draco felt nervous: he had the impression that his voice was shaking, his hands were getting sweaty, and he had no doubt that it was all because of you.

"it was not love at first sight, so don't get on your high horses," Draco laughed, "I just knew that I was gonna end up falling in love with you eventually, no matter how hard I tried to stop myself. I hated it that you had this power over me."

This couldn't be true. How did Draco go from hating the fact that he had to share the same oxygen as you to acting as if he wanted to be the air you breathe?

"Is this a joke?" you half-laughed, "you're pulling a joke on me right, Draco? You don’t love me, draco. Trust me." you looked away from him, but his index and thumb found their way to your chin to gently make you look at him again, "Who are you to think that you know my heart better than I do?" Draco asked you.

You searched his eyes for the usual sparkle of malice that he would have when he used to pull those pranks on you, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. And so, you gathered your courage to speak up, "Do you really love me, Draco?" your words came out in a whisper as you felt like a helpless child under his gaze. You felt your heart beat faster, "Because I do love you. I really do," you confessed.

"I love you, Y/N," Draco started as he held your face in his hands, "I’ll love you in every universe," he kissed your left cheek, "I’ll love you in this life and the next," he kissed your right cheek, "I’ll love you for a thousand lifetimes." He brought his lips to yours.

After a passionate kiss, Draco pulled away to look at you, “Merlin, you’re so pretty,” he said, breathless. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the entire galaxy in them from how much they sparkled, “so, is it over?” you asked, “What?” he questioned you, “the wicked games,” you affirmed to which he just smiled sheepishly at you.

“On one condition,” he started, “will I get to be your boyfriend?” Draco’s hands held yours as the question rolled out of his mouth, “i’ll think about it,” you smiled before putting your lips on his again.

We all have memories we’ll never forget. Those memories bear an impact on us, an impact so big that they are engraved in the back of our brains forever. For instance, you remember the first time you ate a chocolate frog, the first time you watched the snow fall from your bedroom’s window, your first encounter with Draco Malfoy, and the day you first felt Draco's lips on yours.

#draco fic #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic

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portaltothevoid · 6 months

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God Called In Sick Today — Chapters 1 & 2

Summary: It’s the ghafia fic you didn’t know you needed… When a mission goes south, Copia is left scrambling to figure out a plan to get the mayor-to-be in favor of the Emeritus family. That’s where Arianna Diodati, the Mafia Princess of his (very Catholic) rival, comes in. He plans to use her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants. Did he place the right bet or did he take more than he bargained for?

Word count: 5.8k ~//~ Warnings: mafia au, copia x oc, death/murder, gun usage, angst, physically and verbally abusive relationship, domestic violence (between oc x oc), (brief, almost subtle) dacryphilia, kidnapping, dark copia, cliffhanger, enemies to lovers, slow burn

A/N: Surprise! It's a double feature! Fair warning, the next chapters won’t be up til I have a few under my belt so that they can be posted regularly and since I’m still working on You’re Losing Me as well… it might be a while. But I am so so excited for this, that I had to give you all a taste! Massive, massive thank you to @fishwithtitz @da-rulah and @copias-juicebox for beta reading and listening to me talk about this non-stop as I worked out the plot 🖤(photos in mood board all found on pintrest and dividers by @gothdaddyissues!)

Chapter One -- The Sermon and The Plan

It was never a good sign when Papa Emeritus IV demanded a mandatory mass that wasn’t on Sunday. Usually, meetings such as this would be for the upper echelon of the clergy and the Ghouls, but this time around, every single member of the Satan’s Ministry was in attendance. No one dared speak or even look away from their Papa as he stood, eyeing everyone in the room like the disappointed father he was.

Those in the front row could hear his leather gloves squeak against the oak of the pulpit as he gripped it like a stress ball. His unique set of eyes, one green and one white, focused on one specific Ghoul. His expression darkened like an approaching storm, which made for his already intimidating skull-painted face to become menacing. As for the Ghoul, if it weren’t for the silver-horned mask covering his face, even Papa would have seen the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of it. He knew he was the reason everyone was here and why Papa looked beyond furious. He knew it the moment he saw the blue and red flashing lights at the docks.

“As most of you know,” the Satanic pope began, “our latest operation was thwarted by carelessness. All of you deserve to know why, but first, it isn’t a true Mass without a sermon, hm?”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he turned to walk to his right, addressing those in the pews in front of him. “Pride and greed. Two sins that often go hand in hand. Sins which we celebrate here. It seems I need to remind you all that the celebration of sin, any sin, does not give one a free pass to do whatever the fuck they want, eh?”

He turned again, to walk to the other side of the sanctuary. “Every coin has two sides. At what point does living in sin, celebrating sins, become a hindrance?

“Pride. An excessive belief in one’s abilities. Pride can make one think they are untouchable. Pride is the sin that pushes us to achieve greatness not just in the name of Satan, but for ourselves. And there, we find greed. A desire for wealth, for gain. But, again I ask you all, when does celebrating these glorious sins become a hindrance?”

Now, he was in front of the pulpit. Leaning against it was a cane, something he only brought out for show or to inflict pain. While he was addressing everyone, his dichromatic eyes landed on the trembling Ghoul in the center. “Excessive or grandiose sinning becomes a deterrent when it puts the lives of others at risk, when it puts an institution, a family, that you’ve devoted your life to at risk.” Grabbing the cobra head handle, Papa gracefully jumped down to walk in front of the first row. “Many of you are aware of a mission we set out on recently. A mission to save helpless women and children from a sex-trafficking ring. There also was to be an exchange of money. These degenerates were exchanging quite a large sum of money for this transaction. Those prisoners were denied the choice of freedom we offer here. We were denied what was to be used as payment to put the malleable Gregory Osorio in our corner. We have very little time to come up with this sum to get a powerful, up and coming politician in our corner. One who could turn votes in our favor. One who would look out for us. One who would defiantly oppose the Diodati dickheads.

“This mission was not successful. By the time our Ghouls arrived, the prisoners were ‘rescued’ by the police. The money – that should have been ours – confiscated. I know many have wondered how this could have happened. Well, children, the answer is simple.

“Pride… and greed…” he spoke slowly, as he walked down the center aisle, dragging his cane along the ends of the pews. “Someone felt too secure in themselves… Felt they could just… open their fucking mouth to anyone who would fucking listen… while not realizing… They were fraternizing with an informant for the enemy.” He paused his promenade. “This was not a simple mistake. This was blatant negligence from someone who I know, for a fact, knew better. This Ghoul broke our Sacramentum Secreti (Oath of Secrecy).” He began walking again. His cane hit a pew with every word. “Internal problems will be dealt with.”

He stopped. Everyone turned to look at Papa, except for one Ghoul. Papa reached over, using the tip of his cane to force him to look at his figurehead, his boss. With a look that could kill and a wave of his hand, he indicated the Ghoul to walk in front of him back up to the sanctuary.

After twenty paces, “Ghoul, you seem to be limping. I wonder why that is… Is it because your pain and suffering is a message from La Famiglia Diodati?” he remarked snidely.

When Papa planted himself behind the pulpit, he pointed the cane to indicate a spot on the ground. “Kneel,” he commanded. On shaky legs, the Ghoul did as he was told.

Papa dragged his gaze up to the choir loft before him, where one of his best Ghouls was waiting for the signal. Painstakingly slow, he looked back at the insurrectionist. “Per aspera, ad inferi,” he prayed. Again, he made eye contact with the one in the choir loft, giving a solitary nod.

In the blink of an eye, the Ghoul to Papa’s right jolted back slightly, a red dot forming in the center of his forehead. As deep burgundy liquid dripped from it, the congregation gasped, and the Ghoul toppled forward onto his masked face with a deafening thud.

Papa bowed his head, but his eyes passed over everyone clutching their rosary beads in front of him. Somehow, this look was more sinister than it was at the start. “Let it be known that internal problems will be dealt with,” he paused dramatically, “by whatever means necessary.”

And with that, he turned heel and left through the back door, concluding mass.

“Do we really need Osorio this time around? Putting our efforts into driving back the Diodatis would be more beneficial,” Secondo, the second oldest Emeritus, argued. The highest members of the clergy and of the Emeritus family were gathered in their meeting room reserved for familial “business” matters.

A leather clad fist slammed on the dark cherry wood table. “And what the fuck do you think getting Osorio on our payroll would do?” Papa snapped. Secondo just rolled his eyes in response. “We’re running out of fucking time.”

“There’s that charity gala, or whatever the fuck, tomorrow. I could just use my lascivious charm to reel in Osorio,” Papa’s predecessor and brother, Terzo, waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Papa pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his luxurious leather office chair.

“Copia, he actually–and it pains me to admit this–might be onto something. That gala could be a way in,” the eldest Emeritus agreed as he pressed his elbows into the table, his fingers interlacing in front of him, as he stared down his youngest brother and the church’s current Papa.

Terzo waved his hand and his smirk deepened with Primo proving his idea had some merit.

“We have nothing to give Osorio! The whole point of that mission was to dangle that money in his face,” Copia countered.

“So instead we ask him his price,” Terzo shrugged nonchalantly.

“How many of Sal’s men will be there?”

“I believe just his right-hand, Alessio Fidanza and his fiancée and probably only a handful of his associates,” Primo relayed.

Copia’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of the fiancée. “Isn’t that Sal’s daughter? The prim and proper Mafia princess?”

“Sì.”

“For what it’s worth, my advice as your consigliere would be to attend this gala for recon purposes only. Yes, our time is running out, but we still have time to sway Osorio.” For the first time an older woman, who everyone called Sister Imperator, spoke up. She had been keenly observing Copia’s every move, just as any mother would her son, carefully watching knowing he was especially volatile right now.

“And Sal, what about him? He’ll be there too?” Copia asked, ignoring the woman beside him.

“As far as we know, yes.”

A wicked, devilish smile spread across Copia’s face, exaggerating the black paint reminiscent of a rat’s skull around his mouth.

“No… Copia, what are you thinking?” Sister Imperator asked hesitantly. She knew that look. They all did.

“Oh we’ll get some information. We will find out Osorio’s price and we will get Diodati’s attention.”

“Elaborate, brother,” Secondo said wearily. They knew Copia had just hatched a plan and from the look on his face, it was going to be far from easy.

“Diodati thinks he has the upper hand, sì? We can kill two birds with one stone. Show him who has the power here and get the money from him to pay off Osorio so those Catholic fucks can’t use God as a basis for politics.”

“And how exactly… would we do that? Are we intercepting one of their shipments or–” Sister Imperator began to ask hesitantly until she was cut off.

“It’s simple,” Copia stated. He leaned back in his chair casually this time, his elbows perched on the chair’s arm rests. He waved his hands in front him as if he was presenting a physical idea. “We kidnap la Principessa di Dio.”

Chapter Two -- You Should Be Scared

The last thing Arianna Diodati wanted to do was attend some pompous charity event chained to her fiancé wearing a designer dress she hated and a fake smile. She thanked God that she didn’t have to endure the after parties; she could retreat to solitude and her husband-to-be could do whatever (and most likely whomever) he wanted there. Not knowing what happened at those parties used to ruminate in her mind like a catchy pop song… until she actually found out.

The infidelity bothered her at first, caused her to lose sleep at night, and question her worth. She used to be confrontational. She used to stick up for herself. She used to care. Arianna learned the hard way that Alessio Fidanza never actually wanted her or truly loved her. Maybe at first he did, but as time marched on, she came to realize the only thing he cared about was having an in with the most illustrious mafia family in New York City. The closer he got to her, the closer he got to Arianna’s father aka the boss of the Diodati family, and the higher up in the ranks he rose, the less he paid her any attention – or respect. In less than a handful of years Alessio was promoted as Salvatore Diodati’s right hand man. He learned the ropes, got enough blood on his hands, and eventually helped call the shots. She was used to her father dictating her life, but now, finding herself under the thumb of another man? There were only two things she could do: watch her life pass her by from behind barred windows and pray to God someone would eventually notice (and care enough about) her imprisonment to save her.

Nevertheless, she admired herself in the mirror; for once, she wore a dress that made her feel confident. Her black cherry red curls cascaded around her face. For a moment, she could see a sparkle, or a glimmer of hope, returning in her hazel eyes as she noted how the asymmetrical dress framed her body perfectly. Satin jersey panels on the two thirds of the dress accentuated her curves as it snaked down the length of it. It draped up, slightly off one shoulder while the other was a simple strap clad with the subtle (yet signature) Versace Medusa emblem. That side of the dress was a simple satin. A slit allowed one of her toned legs to peek through adding an air of sexy sophistication to the look. She was almost smiling until she heard her fiancé behind her.

“You’re wearing that tonight?” And with that snide question, the sparkle in her eye dimmed once more, returning to their usual lackluster shine.

“Um, yes? I showed it to you, remember? You said it would be fine…” she said hesitantly, her voice dancing on eggshells, and her small smile fading.

Alessio scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you think I pay attention to half the stuff you show me? If I saw something like that, I would have remembered. Wear the other Versace dress. The one I had Roberta pick up for you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Specifically for tonight,” he added, his tone proving he had little patience for her tonight.

“But what’s wrong with this one? It’s not like it’s–”

He sprung at her, his nostrils flaring as he gripped her arms tighter than a blood pressure cuff. She fought back the tears that pricked in her eyes. “You look like one of Satan’s whores. Now,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “put on the other dress.” He shoved her back, her arms flew out to find purchase on the dresser beside her so she wouldn’t fall. The few perfume bottles that toppled over made an almost deafening sound amongst the tension. Her breathing was ragged as she glared at him. His look back at her served as a warning.

She never understood how someone who claimed to be so devoted to God could be so evil, but she had to trust God’s plan for her. This all had to serve a purpose, didn’t it?

Her eyes closed as she composed herself, doing her best to stuff down the ever-raging storm of anger that lately seemed to be constantly brewing inside her. “Yes, Alessio. It’s the one still in the garment bag?”

Slowly he rolled his head up to look at the ceiling, before bringing it back to glare at her. “Obviously, you dumb bitch. Hurry up and get fucking changed. I can’t afford to be late tonight because of you,” he spat as he walked out of their room.

Once more, she took a deep shuddering breath, her whole body trembling on the exhale. Stepping out of her preferred dress, she left the almost four thousand dollar garment lying crumpled on the floor.

Now as she looked at herself in the mirror again, she saw a stranger she didn’t even recognize despite the only thing that physically had changed was her dress. She noted how her eyes seemed more hollow. The color in her face had paled. There was nothing but a stranger who once had dreams and ambition staring back at her. None of this felt real.

The worst part of it all was that under any other circumstances, she would have loved wearing this. It was a black viscose material. A slim-fitting, hooded crêpe dress with a plunging V-neckline that was much more revealing than her own choice, but this one had long sleeves and went down to her mid-calf. There was a criss-cross belt also adorned with Versace’s Medusa logo, only this one was more prominent than the one on her choice of dress.

She let out a humorless laugh as she adjusted the long sleeves. All she wanted tonight was to feel confident, to show off some skin, because things had been relatively quiet as of late. Alessio was kept busy, his attention divided elsewhere. For the first time in a while, her arms didn’t look like an abstract painting.

If she had been the one to pick out this dress, her sentiments towards it would have been different. She didn’t want to hide, but this was what Alessio wanted her to wear. There was no way around that unless she wanted to pay the price. Letting out a heavy sigh, she put the hood up. This dress felt like the most high end and lavish prison jumpsuit. No one would know how much it felt like she was wearing shackles, a stark reminder that her choices were never own. But at least tonight she wouldn’t have to come up with a lie to explain the fresh bruises on her arms.

A single tear slid down her face, which she quickly wiped away. With a shake of her head, she put her emotions under lock and key, tucking it away into a dark corner of her mind. She practiced her million dollar smile and nodded to herself, putting her shoulders back and her chest out –a mirage of confidence and happiness– and made her way to the Bentley that was waiting for her.

No matter the formal event, the routine was almost always the same. Arianna would find her father, talk to and dance with who he (or Alessio) told her to, have two strong drinks (but no more than that or else she’d have to deal with a very irate Alessio), fake pleasantries with the other ladies who were just as much a prisoner to this life as she was, then once the crowd began thin, could she retreat. Tonight would be no different. At least, that's what she had assumed.

She greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek. “Arianna, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he father said, ushering over to a man that was just about six or seven years older than her. He looked just like everyone else here like he came from money and would stop at nothing to get more. “Greg, this is my daughter, Arianna. Arianna, this is Gregory Osorio, our soon to be Mayor.”

This Greg guy let out a low whistle as he looked Arianna up and down. “Sal, you weren’t kidding. She is absolutely stunning. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so many things about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” she said with a smile that would never quite reach her eyes.

“Oh, absolutely! Your dress looks like it was made for you. Ah, how do you say it… You look… bellissima!”

“You’re too kind. Alessio convinced me to wear this tonight. I have to give all the credit to him,” she laughed, keeping up the ruse of niceties as Alessio dug his fingers into her side. It was his retaliation for the subtle jab she just made at him, even though these people would never ever know that it was.

“Fidanza, you are a lucky man!”

“I thank God everyday for her,” Alessio said, giving one more bruise-worthy squeeze on Arianna’s waist. He dropped his hand when everyone’s attention snapped towards the door. The group that had just arrived turned heads as they sauntered in.

“Who invited those Emeritus fucks?” Sal snapped.

“Copia put a call in himself to my office about a sizable donation for tonight. I figured if he's willing to be a top donor–perhaps even the top donor tonight–they might as well enjoy some of the festivities, no?” Osorio responded cautiously. “If you’ll excuse me, Sal…”

They exchanged nods as Gregory meandered through the crowd. Sal snapped his fingers. “I want eyes on them. They’re fucking up to something. Never once have they given a shit about things like this.”

“On it, boss,” one of his men said before he disappeared amongst the throng of people.

Arianna never liked the Emeritus family. In fact, she borderline hated them with their menacingly painted faces and blasphemous way of life. She never quite understood how they rose to rival that of her family. Perhaps they really did make a deal with the devil.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” she said quietly. Alessio just waved her off, her father already in a passionate discussion regarding something she couldn’t care less about.

She made her way to the bar, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “Your usual, Ms. Diodati?”

“Yes, please,” she smiled.

It wasn’t long until she felt a pair of eyes on her from the other end of the bar. She looked up to see Copia, the ringleader of the Satanic circus, staring her down like a hunter watching its prey. It sent a shiver down her spine, but all he saw was the scowl that encapsulated her face. That only made him smirk at her.

She rolled her eyes in disgust, looking away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, though, when she knew his attention was back on someone that wasn’t her, she couldn’t help herself from taking in his appearance. She hated to admit, he looked… elegant. His burgundy pants were impossibly tight in all the right ways. It pained her to acknowledge the way they perfectly hugged his thighs. He had foregone his suit jacket, leaving just his matching burgundy vest and black dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see his muscles flex as he grabbed his drink.

Her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long. This time, he caught her watching him. His mouth curled up again into a sly half-smile as he took a drink. His dichromatic eyes never left her. The instant her drink hit the counter, she brought it to her lips and weaved her way through everyone back to Alessio in hopes of putting distance between her and whatever exchange had just taken place.

Shortly after she resumed her role as the token arm candy she was, did her father tense up when a leather clad hand slapped his shoulder. “Salvatore! Come stai (how are you)?”

“Copia,” he greeted stiffly. “To what do we owe this… surprise?” The words rolled off his tongue as if they made his skin crawl.

“Can’t a man just be willing to support a good cause such as this?”

Sal’s only response was to purse his lips. Copia was reveling in the fact that just his presence alone was getting under his enemy’s skin. “Say, Copia, did you hear about the girls that were rescued from trafficking by the docks the other day?” A condescending smirk now replaced the sour look on his face.

Copia’s eyes darkening was the only acknowledgement of Sal’s jab he let slip. “Ah, yes, thank the Gods below they’ve been transferred from one prison to another, being treated as criminals instead of victims.”

“Well, a whore contained is better than a whore on the street.”

Copia laughed sneeringly. “Ah, and I’m sure by whore, you mean a two-bit one. Tell me, though, what are the plans after this? Anyone escorting you to the after party?” he smirked as it was Sal’s turn for his expression to darken.

Arianna didn’t realize she was watching this with bated breath, or that she was clinging to Alessio until he shook her off him. Copia's eyes immediately darted to Arianna’s fiancé breaking free of her almost death grip to take a step towards him. “You know, since you’re here, a thanks is in order,” Alessio said cunningly. “Those girls couldn’t have been saved without the helpful information one of your soldiers let slide right off his tongue. I’ve gotta say, that was a lucky group of girls.”

“Life’s just a game of luck, isn’t it?” Sal chimed in with a shrewd smile directed at Copia.

“And I thank you as well, gentlemen, for helping me shed some dead weight.” The tenison grew thick as the flames of their rivalry were fanned with each remark. “But, a real man makes his own luck.” He casted a quick astute glance with an accompanying nod to Sal before he turned to directly face Arianna. “Perdonami,” he murmured gently, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Arianna, e come stai stasera, principessa (and how are you tonight, princess)?”

Her heart thumped wildly against her sternum and her eyes flashed nervously over to Alessio. She knew somehow this man’s unprompted actions would be her fault. Both men noted immediately how her body stiffened. One was amused by her fear while the other felt a pang of pity. “Bene, grazie (good, thank you),” she piped up meekly.

“Would it be alright if I stole la bella donna (the beautiful woman) for just one dance?” he asked the two men beside him, only taking his eyes off Arianna for a mere second.

Giving Alessio a slap on the back, “She’s practically yours now, son. That’s your call to make,” her father laughed as he walked off towards the bar.

Arianna widened her eyes, begging Alessio to say no. Rolling his lips between his teeth as he pondered his decision quickly. He nodded, another sly smile curling the edges of his mouth. “One song wouldn’t hurt, eh? Careful though, she’s a pistol. Hope you can handle her. Lord knows some days I barely can.”

Copia laughed dryly. “I think someone of my stature knows how to handle one of those quite well,” he challenged, ushering Arianna away quickly.

Alessio reached out and grabbed her by the arm, just like he had earlier, turning her towards him. She inhaled sharply through gritted teeth at the pain as he had constricted her already tender bruises. “I’ll be waiting by the bar for you,” he hummed as his eyes flicked back and forth between Arianna and her new dance partner, before they lingered on her. She knew that look on his face. It was another warning. Without a sound, he let go of her, and followed the path of her father.

Copia’s arm snaked around her waist. He made it a point to do it gingerly, but that did nothing to calm her rattling nerves. “You’re trembling, cara,” he noted quietly, turning to face her, placing a hand on her hip on the same spot Alessio’s fingers left painful imprints. Her eyes fluttered shut when she involuntarily shied away from him. He eyed her curiously as he switched hands, placing one on her opposite hip and taking her hand in his other. She never quite understood the random ballroom dancing that happened at some of these parties.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

A sinister laugh quietly bubbled from him as he leaned to whisper in her ear, “You really should be.”

“And why’s that?” she challenged as they stepped in time together. Unsure of how, or why, but she could feel some of her old fire ignite inside her.

“Now, now, if I answered that it would ruin the surprise.”

She spoke in a way so her lips didn’t move, but Copia could understand her muffled words perfectly: “My father has eyes on you, you know.” This came off as more of a warning of caution than a threat.

“I’d expect nothing less from him. The real question is, does he have eyes on you?”

“I highly doubt it. I’ve proven to him I’ve learned from my rebellious ways,” she scoffed.

“Oh?”

“The consequences aren’t worth the… It serves no purpose anymore.”

After a few beats of silence, Copia asked, “Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like they own you.”

For the first time since their dance began, she looked directly into his two-toned irises. Her breath hitched. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone, never mind a practical stranger, had even acknowledged her feelings or that she might have any at all. Her life wasn’t her own; it was already planned out. She could picture her life with Alessio as if she already lived. It’s mostly the reason she had become a shell, a carbon copy of herself. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a tall cliffside with no one to pull her back and no one who noticed, or even cared… So why was her father’s sworn enemy acting as if he did? And why in God’s name did it make her stomach flip and her heart flutter? “Because they do,” she finally managed to say through barely parted lips.

As the song ended, Copia regarded her with a smug, yet sympathetic look. He stepped towards her, pressing his body against hers, bringing his forehead down to hers. Standing there frozen, there was nothing she was able to do except stare into the most intriguing pair of eyes she’d ever seen. “Il mio agnellino (my little lamb)…” he purred. A devilish smile creeped onto his face. “I’ll see you soon.”

He abruptly left her standing there like a deer in headlights with her heart hammering in chest, and disappeared into the crowd. She sucked in a deep, ragged breath as she looked around checking to see if there were any witnesses to what just happened.

That man was evil. She knew this. He was ruthless. He worshiped the devil. He was the enemy.

And yet, what terrified her the most wasn’t his veiled threats, but her reaction to them. There was an allure to him, an air of mystique. Someone heard her faint cries for freedom… She shook it off and went to find Alessio, fearing what he would do if she waited any longer.

Arianna caught his eye as she walked up to him leaning against the bar, alone. He knocked back the remainder of his drink and forcefully grabbed her wrist, dragging her out to a deserted hallway. Not a single person batted an eyelash as they rushed past.

Once he assumed they were completely by themselves, he forced her up against the wall. Her back stinging in protest as the coolness of the concrete seeped into her skin. Unbeknownst to the nowhere-near-happy couple, Copia and his ghouls were waiting in a nearby room. Every part of his plan was falling in place like dominos.

“Alessio wh–” Arianna started to question, but was cut off by Alessio slamming his fist on the wall right next to her head.

While he now had her caged in, he pointed a finger in her face. “What the fuck was that about? You fucking wanted to dance with that vermin?”

She stared at him in horror. Even though she knew he would pull this card, it never made it easier any time it happened. “What are you talking about?! Did you miss the look I gave you? I wanted nothing to do with him! I wanted you to say the ‘no’ that I couldn’t!”

“You wanted–” he scoffed. “You wanted me to say no? Since when do I make your decisions for you?”

“Only every fucking day of my life!” she spat back at him, seething. Though he embodies sin and everything unholy, when Copia switched the hands on her hips, when he noted her fear… Those actions, so subtle, spoke volumes. She was reminded of what it means when a person has compassion, empathy, and even a trace of humanity inside them. If she ever experienced that with Alessio it had long be wiped from her memory, overridden by every terrible thing he had done to her and put her through.

The rage that erupted from him, the hatred that bled from his eyes, haunted her nightmares. Instantly after the words left her mouth, her whole body tensed. When the blow from his hand landed across her face, she didn’t even have time to react before he gripped her arms again, somehow even harder than the two previous times.

“You think you can just go dance with another man without looking like one of the devil’s whores? Maybe I should have let you wear that dress, since here you are, being one instead of just looking like one.” He shook her as he berated her.

“Alessio, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face as her fiancé screamed at her. His voice drowned out from the thumping music and the raucous party-goers in the other room.

“You little fucking cunt, if it wasn’t for your father I would have left your pathetic ass years ago,” he snarled through his teeth just before he tossed her to the ground like a rag doll. “Get the fuck home. I don’t want to deal with this right now. And you better think of a good way to make this up to me…” he warned before he cracked his neck, fixed his shirt cuffs, and sauntered back into the party.

Quietly, she sobbed into the tile floor. Her body was alight in a flame of pain. “Please, God. Please help me. I can’t… I just can’t…”

A hand gently touched her shoulder. She recoiled, flinching, and pressed herself into the wall behind her.

“Oh, Principessa,” Copia tutted. He crouched down in front of her and used his thumb to wipe away her tears. She watched as he brought his hand closer to inspect how they glistened on his leather glove. His eyes bored into hers as he brought his thumb to his mouth, nearly sensually cleaning off her agonized tears with his tongue. Fear coursed through her harder than the adrenaline did when she spoke back to Alessio. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that God called in sick today,” he leaned in closer, hovering over her forebodingly, “and he sent me to handle your prayers,” he cooed disparagingly.

He stepped back from her, offering to help her up. She stared at his hand, her eyes wide with panic. When he waved it to snap her out of her trance, she scrambled to her feet. Automatically fearing supposed repercussions.

“How much… how much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“All of it.” With a snap of his fingers two ghouls appeared, seemingly out of nowhere from Arianna’s perspective, and grabbed her arms. Their grip firm, but it wasn’t lost on her how they somehow managed to avoid touching where Alessio had hurt her.

“Wh-what are you doing? Let me go. Let go of me!” she cried out, feebly attempting to wriggle from the ghouls’ grasps.

Copia stepped forward, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. With his face inches from hers, that diabolical smile reappeared. “I’m sorry about that too, but I can’t allow that. You see, il mio agnellino, you won’t be going home tonight.” He snaked his hands down from her face and along her neck before he leaned in so close to her, his breath tickled her ear. The way his lips moved against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “I told you. You should be scared of me.”

As he backed away from her, a third ghoul put a cloth over her mouth. Her screams were muffled as she tried to thrash and escape from her captors. Soon, her movements slowed and her vision blurred. The last thing she remembered seeing was that haunting pair of eyes, one green and one white, watching her with a smirk that rivaled that of the devil’s, before something covered her head and plunged her into darkness as her body went limp.

Next Chapter || taglist: @gorie-talks-a-lot @haelithra @love-is-all-you-need-13 @lydzlore @megachaoticstupid @onlyhereforghost @state-of-longing @werich @whenparadiseislost

#the band ghost #the band ghost mafia au #mafia au #copia #mob boss!copia #mob boss copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus 4 #papa copia #copia x oc #papa emeritus iv x oc #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #ghost bc fanfic #copia angst

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allwaswell16 · 4 months

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in February 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #59 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🩷 with venom on your tongue by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 91k, enemies to lovers) a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought

🩷 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(M, 60k, superpowers) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band.

🩷 through walls of trees by @ineverateakiwi

(T, 41k, fantasy) Elesdon is a country divided into five kingdoms and had long been considered peaceful. After a coup in the heart of the country, Lady Sulia ascended to the throne and imprisoned the four courts, stripping them of their powers. With the exception of King Louis Tomlinson, who submitted to her favors.

🩷 Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 29k, exes) “You really that desperate, are you?” Despite it being a shitty thing to say, Harry didn’t mind too much, as the bitterness in Louis’ tone sounded like music to Harry’s ears. Harry was winning tonight. “Can’t find anyone new to be interested in you, so you try to hit on Zayn.”

🩷 this love is alive by @stylinsonwritingpalace

(E, 10k, writer Louis) When Louis's favorite fictional character, Harry Styles, comes to life, it's up to him to decide if he should stay.

🩷 Pretty and Preposterous by @brightlyharry

(NR, 5k, neighbors) Harry donates a copy of Pride and Prejudice to his little free library. He never expects what comes next.

🩷 In Jest by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 4k, soulmates) Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top. Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.

🩷 All This Time (I was Waiting for You) by @ohharold

(E, 4k, vampire/fae) Harry and Louis have always been destined for each other. Some time apart has Harry reminiscent of their first meeting.

🩷 Jealousy Looks Good On You, Baby by cigarettesbeforesex

(M, 4k, pwp) A flirtatious stranger wanted to entice Louis by buying him a drink from the bar. The handsome 29-year-old tavern manager with curly hair, who Louis (often) flirts with, is currently working on shift...Poor Curly, because he's the one that has to deliver the drink to him.

🩷 the "Falling" series by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 4k, exes to lovers) Harry looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, and just nods, putting the CD in a box that’s filled with all kinds of knick knacks from their bedroom. Or, no. Louis supposes it is his bedroom now. Or will be, after today.

🩷 spring in your eyes by @nouies

(NR, 3k, fake relationship) “Just Go with It” inspired AU where plastic surgeon Harry pretends to be married to his assistant Louis to avoid unwanted attention.

🩷 Dirty Diana by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 3k, epistolary) In the month leading up to his 30th birthday, Harry writes to his confidante Diana every day, sharing his fantasies about Louis.

🩷 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🩷 You Could Give That Aspirin the Headache of Its Life by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(M, 3k, exes) the one where Louis is a football player who gets stuck on a flight with his ex-boyfriend Harry. The universe might be conspiring against him, or is it?

🩷 What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13

(T, 2k, soulmates au) Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed. But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

🩷 miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(T, 1k, social media) Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.

- Rare Pairs -

🩷 Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) He remembers arguing that he had no real power over anything, so no one would care about him, let alone try to hurt him. But that assessment had proven to be untrue today.

🩷 Skin on My Skin by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(E, 2k, Zayn/Liam) Let me touch you where you like it Let me do it for ya

🩷 Stray by @haztobegood

(E, 1k, Zayn/Harry, Harry/Louis) Finally, Louis catches a glimpse of familiar curls weaving through the crowd. The man’s arm is firm around Harry’s waist until they stop in front of the booth. “I found this stray wandering around. I believe he’s yours.”

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #ficsfor4am #ficrec

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oddinary4bts · 1 year

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The Forgotten Spaces | ch 8 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in previous/later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: laura is purposefully mean, oc sprains her wrist, oc's mother is a bitch, lots of angst, some sort of miscommunication between oc and jungkook (what's new) (nothing bad this time I promise), probably some curse words as per usual

☆word count: 12.6k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: Some more angst, but a silver lining in the end I promise. Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, September 22nd

You’re tired. Tired and anxious, especially as nationals are coming in two weeks. Two weeks. It’s unbelievable – it feels like the auditions were yesterday. And you don’t feel ready at all with the choreographies. You’ve mastered them a while ago, yes, but you’ve mastered them alone. Now, you have to practice with the rest of the crew, no matter how much you’ve been trying to avoid Jungkook.

But also, you’re tired and anxious because your mother has been on your back. Indeed, she believes you’ve been investing too much time in the crew, and that you’ve been neglecting your studies. You haven’t, of course, but your mother can’t accept the fact that you are juggling both dance and law. At least that’s what it feels like to you, so whenever she scolds you you just let her talk, tuning her out until she leaves you alone.

Today is no different. You haven’t really been listening to what she’s saying, but all that you know is that she is making you late for dance practice.

“Like, you think dancing will ever bring you any good?” she’s saying. “The type of dance you dance is not something you’ll make a living out of, and I can’t believe you haven’t understood that yet.”

You sigh, and you focus on her where she’s standing in the doorway of your room. “That’s kind of funny coming from you, a professional ballerina.”

Red splotches dot her cheeks. “Ballet is a far more lucrative discipline than whatever you call dance, Y/n. But of course you wouldn’t know.”

You can’t resist but roll your eyes. “Listen mom, I know you don’t like the crew. But I’m an adult and you can’t do anything about it. I have practice now, because we have nationals in two weeks, so can you just please let me go?”

“What are you going to do if I stop paying for your college, uh?” she spits. “You’ve been using my money forever. Your crew doesn’t even pay for the studio.”

“If that’s a problem to you, we can pay”, you say, folding your arms on your chest as you cock an eyebrow. “We’ve suggested it plenty of times before, and you keep refusing.” That makes you shake your head a little, and you add, “And we both know dad wanted to pay for my college. You’re the one who refused.”

You might be a little too bold. It is true that your father had once suggested he could pay for your tuition, considering that you are studying to be a lawyer like him. But that was years ago, and you have no idea if the offer still stands.

“He’s not even your father,” your mother chooses to say, as if you don’t already know.

It just makes you shrug your shoulders. “He’s been more of a father to me these last few weeks than you have been a mother. At least he supports me and my interests.”

She’s insulted. It’s clear as spring water. Brows so furrowed over her eyes that they’re almost touching, fists clenched so hard you can see white on her knuckles. “I…”

But she has nothing else to say. She knows just as well as you do that what you said is true. Your father, even if he isn’t your biological father, has always supported your dance passion. He never once questioned it, never once made you feel lesser because the type of dance you chose isn’t as “elegant” or “classy” as ballet. He also supported you when you decided to join the crew, even if your mother was fully against it.

“As I said, we’re adults, and I have engagements with the crew,” you continue. “So I’m going to go now, and if you want to talk like adults about me paying you for tuition or for the studio, we can do that another time. Alright?”

It’s insolent, the way you say it, but you know nothing else works with your mother. Sometimes, you feel like you’re the more mature one out of the two of you.

Scratch that – you are the more mature one out of the two of you.

Surprisingly, your mother lets you go for now. You expect that she will be on your back again soon enough, but at least you will be able to get to practice without being too late. And you walk quickly to compensate, so much so that you end up arriving before Jungkook and Heather, and you start stretching next to Jiho.

“Hey loser,” Jiho greets you, and you reckon the moment you see her, the annoyance your mother caused you goes down the drain.

Your relationship with her has been sailing smoothly now that you have decided to cut Jungkook out of your life. Now that you’ve actually taken steps to remove him from your heart too, which you’ll be forever thankful for. Maybe Jisung helped a little too, making Jiho realize that pushing her happy relationship in your face was the wrong thing to do. She and Hobi have chilled a little now, though you don’t feel about it the way that you did a month ago.

Now you’re just happy whenever you think about how Jiho got lucky. You know more than anyone else that she deserves that luck.

“Hey stupid,” you reply.

“Are you calling my girlfriend stupid?” Hobi asks, faking offense.

“We all know she’s stupid for you,” Scottie points out, and everyone laughs.

You love them. You love the crew with every single beat of your heart. You can’t imagine a life without them – if you had to choose, you’d cut ties with your mother before you’d even consider dropping out of the crew.

Heather joins you next, bright smile on her lips as Bridget files in behind her. You wave to Bridget and she waves in return, before moving to the spot where you’ve brought bean bags in for her.

After all, Bridget has taken a liking to attending dance practice, saying that it helps her to focus on studying. You have no idea how she manages to do that – loud music has always been a big distraction for you – but Bridget does it well. Sitting in a corner on one of the bean bags with her laptop on her knees, typing away as you all dance.

Jungkook doesn’t seem like he’s going to come soon, and Hobi suggests practicing without him. No one argues, and Lance sets up the music as you all take your places on the floor in front of the mirror.

You’ve done the choreography almost three and a half times when Jungkook finally deigns to show up, and you’re ready to throw hands when you realize why he’s late: he’s decided to bring Laura to practice.

Mind you, you’ve been good at moving on lately, or maybe you’ve just been good at pretending you’ve moved on. But seeing her in a space that she doesn’t belong in, in a scene that never should have been tainted with her presence makes your heart hammer in your chest, eyes going wide.

Jiho has the exact same reaction, mouth hanging open as she looks at Laura walking in. Laura has the decency to look shy a little as everyone just stares at her, and it’s with cheeks flushing red that she raises a bag she’s holding.

You only then notice that Jungkook is holding a bag too.

“We brought boba for everyone,” Laura sheepishly says, entirely avoiding the side of the room where you, Jiho and Lance are standing.

You exchange a look with your best friend, features slightly turning into a frown just long enough for her to notice. To outside eyes, nothing happened, and you’re back to looking at Laura a second later.

Though what you notice then is not her. It’s Jungkook. Jungkook is looking at you, as if he’s gauging your reaction. You meet his eyes, and you hope your emotions don’t show on your face.

Because quite frankly, the hammering of your heart aches, and you wish you could disappear.

Lance is the first one to break the silence that followed Laura’s words. And then everyone follows suit, moving closer to grab their own drink. All you can do is stay rooted in your spot, and you keep looking at Jungkook. He keeps looking at you too, and it feels like the moment has frozen for the two of you. It’s strange, as you have been avoiding him, but it does feel like the connection is still there.

You think it probably will always be there. You’ve just been better at accepting its existence doesn’t mean you and Jungkook were meant to be together anyway.

You stare at each other until Hobi nudges Jungkook, who blinks as if he’s been brought out of a trance. He shakes his head a little, gaze sliding to Hobi, and then he’s opening the bag he’s holding to hand the drinks he has.

You just stay there, teeth digging in the inside of your lips as you notice Laura has seen. She’s seen you and Jungkook looking at each other, and she’s frowning. When your eyes meet, it’s only for her to glare at you.

You wish you could tell her that he’s hers anyway, that she doesn’t have to hate you, but you’d never be able to step on your pride like that. So with your head held high you walk towards where they are. It feels decisive, like something is about to change – maybe the universe is about to shift back into position, after having spun off its axis since that night under the stars.

You think Jungkook senses you approaching, because he doesn’t even look at you when he tells Laura, “Babe, do you have the banana milk bobas?”

Her features turn solid, harsh. “I have yours, yes.”

You watch Jungkook. He’s furrowing his brows as if he doesn’t understand. “You don’t have Y/n’s?”

To hear him say your name makes your heart stop in your chest, and you reckon it hurts just as much as the hammering.

“I only got one banana milk.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides to you then. The room fills with tension, and you just cock an eyebrow as you hold his gaze. As if to say ‘she’s the one you chose as your girlfriend?’

“I asked you to get one for Y/n too.”

Laura just shrugs, and she fakes innocence. “Sorry, I forgot.”

It doesn’t really matter. It’s just a boba anyway, and you don’t usually drink anything while you practice, so you don’t upset your stomach. But the way Jungkook’s features fall, turning apologetic, makes you clench your fists until you feel the sting of your nails digging in your palms.

But you decide to be the bigger person, because you can’t really stay in front of them any longer. “No worries,” you let out, and you spin on your heels, moving away.

Jiho catches your gaze, and she looks livid. Way more than you are, because you reckon this little interaction almost made you faint.

“Wait, Y/n,” Jungkook says.

Now, you’re pretty sure you’re stepping on shards of glass as you turn back around. “Uh?”

“Take mine,” he suggests, and he even digs in Laura’s bag to hand it to you.

You shake your head. “Nah, it’s fine.”

He doesn’t insist, and Laura doesn’t say anything else either. But you see the way everyone is looking at each other: disapprovingly, and you think Lance and Jiho are about to say something. You shrug your shoulders to tell them that it really is fine, but it’s a lie to yourself.

The fact Laura purposefully didn’t get a boba for you does upset you. It’s childish of her, and maybe it’s childish of you to get upset over it too. But you’re human, and you aren’t flawless.

Lately you’ve been thinking you’re more flaws than qualities anyway. And you don’t think it’s your fault that your mind fills with the night sky and cataclysms again. You’re allowed to feel, you’re allowed to break.

You avoid Jungkook’s gaze after that. You try to ignore Laura too, but she has a smug look on her face. She knows what she did, and she’s happy about it. You didn’t think Jungkook would be able to like someone like that.

But he never really did like you anyway, did he?

You made progress over the few last weeks. You really did. You’ve barely been thinking about Jungkook now, but something about standing in a room where she is too… It’s unraveling your progress. You feel like you’re back on square one, back to the day he told you about her.

Right in this room, actually. And maybe you’re not on square one, maybe it was bound to end in that same place.

Dancing isn’t easy, under her watchful gaze. Under the smugness on her features. Under the remorse on Jungkook’s own features. He looks like he wants to apologize, like he wants to talk to you maybe.

But that boat sailed a long time ago, and you’re not going to speak to Jungkook alone outside of choreography talk anymore.

Bridget doesn’t seem too happy when Laura decides to sit next to her. She throws you a look, eyes going to the ceiling before they settle back on you.

It’s then that you realize just how much you really do love the crew, and the other friends you’ve made over the last few months. All of them… They’re your family. Who cares about a broken heart when you have a family like that?

Jungkook is kinder tonight, as he makes you practice. Well, he starts that way, until he seems to relax and forget that Laura is here, and that she was a bitch to you. Then he returns to his usual iron will, and he hammers the choreography into each of you, as if you don’t already know it.

But something about the way Laura’s been looking at you this whole time is starting to make you lose your cool. You feel anxious, though you reckon you really have been feeling anxious for days now. About nationals, about your mom, and of course about Laura and Jungkook.

Jungkook stops the music for the thousandth time. “Heather, try doing this instead,” he says as he shows the move he’s talking about. He’s still moving mechanically, but everyone has stopped noticing it now. “I think it’ll work better.”

She nods, and Jungkook starts the song again.

You’re not one to trip. You’ve never tripped on your feet, have always been agile. But for some reason your feet tangle during one of the steps, the one Jungkook changed for Heather, and all you know is that you’re down before you even had time to blink.

It hurts. Something hurts, and you don’t know if it’s the embarrassment or your body. You only know that tears are pricking at your eyes.

It only doubles up when your gaze meets Jungkook’s doe eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks.

He’s kneeling next to you, and you didn’t even notice him moving. Hands gently holding your shoulders as you try to push yourself up.

Pain shoots up your left arm, and you would have collapsed had he not been holding you.

“Fuck.”

“You’re hurt,” he says rhetorically, and he helps you as you sit up.

You feel everyone’s eyes on you. They look shocked, but what you really do notice are Laura’s eyes. She’s livid where she’s sitting, and you almost want to scream at her that this is her fault. That Jungkook wouldn’t be touching you if she wasn’t here tonight.

“I don’t know,” you reply, and your gaze moves back to Jungkook.

He looks concerned, infinitely so. He’s a little pale, and his big eyes scan your features a few times before dropping to your left arm. Your wrist has already started to swell, and you both look at it for a time.

“Do you think it’s broken?” he asks with a small voice.

You don’t know. You don’t know shit. All you know is that your heart is breaking again, always, and the tears you’re blinking back aren’t because of the pain anymore.

Aren’t because of the physical pain, in fact.

“Can you please stop touching me?” you ask.

He’s not looking you in the eyes, but you feel how he stiffens next to you. How his shoulders tense up, how his jaw clenches. His hands drop on his thighs, and then they turn to fists.

“Sorry. I just…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe because he’s realized everyone saw him run to your side the moment you hurt yourself.

You know then that he does care. That whatever led him to choose Laura over you wasn’t because he didn’t care about you. Or maybe he only cares because you’re part of the crew, and you getting injured puts you all at risk of failing nationals.

Needless to say, you favour the former possibility.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Jiho asks as she moves closer.

Jungkook doesn’t move, and neither do you. You just glance at her. “I think it’s just sprained.”

“You better get it checked out before nationals,” Hobi points out. “Just to be sure.”

You nod. He’s right, and the pain turns into anger. The blinding kind of anger. Because if this messes up your performance at nationals, you’re pretty positive you’ll murder Jungkook.

For choosing her, for bringing her tonight, for caring when he should be pretending he doesn’t care.

But he was there under the stars, wasn’t he?

“Okay,” you agree. “But no need to call an ambulance, I can just grab a Lyft.”

There’s no chance in hell you’re risking an ambulance bill when your mother has been pestering you about money earlier this evening. You have pretty good insurance, you really do, but you’re not going to risk having a higher bill than needed.

“I’ll go with you,” Jiho declares.

No one else says anything, because she’s obviously the only one that should be going with you, and a moment later you’re leaving.

You can’t help looking over your shoulder as you go. Jungkook is watching you leave, and you think you see him blinking back tears too. You might have imagined it though, and you’re gone before you can make sure.

Maybe he hasn’t forgotten. Maybe he still remembers how it felt, maybe he’s finally realizing the implication of his decisions.

You reckon you shouldn’t even be thinking about that. So you cling to the progress you made, and you pretend you’re not blinking back tears during the Lyft ride. Jiho holds your hand, the uninjured one, and she pretends she doesn’t see the tears either.

Sunday, September 23rd

Laura has been crying for twenty minutes now. Jungkook thinks she should have seen it coming: after getting angry at him about you last night, she made his decision pretty easy.

He knew he was going to break up with her the moment she started insulting you to his face. And she knows what happened between you and him; he told her everything, not wanting to build a relationship over a lie.

Maybe that’s why she’s been crying so much. Sobbing, face flushed red as snot pours from her nose. She’s told him he’s an asshole and a liar at the beginning, but it hasn’t affected him like he thought it would.

No, he never lied to her. He only lied to himself, so much so that he refused to even acknowledge how he feels about you. But seeing you getting hurt yesterday – both by Laura and because of your wrist… It brought him right back to the night he chose her over you, and it made him sick to his stomach.

They are in Jungkook’s room. Laura is sitting on his bed, and he’s sitting in front of his gaming PC. His chair is turned away from the monitor, but the sound is on speaker, so he hears it when he receives a discord notification.

He looks over his shoulder to see that Taehyung wrote something, but Laura lets out a broken sound that grabs his attention again.

“I just…” she says as she sniffs and he turns back to look at her. “You fucking used me.”

He plays with his piercing for a few seconds. He does feel bad. He’s not immune to someone he cares about being hurt. And for all that she thinks, Jungkook does care about her. Platonically, that is. Because she is comfortable, she is like the sun in his life.

She was like the sun in his life.

Because he misses his night sky too much. He’s not stupid though: he can’t be with you either. He doesn’t want to do that to you. To run back to you with his tail between his legs begging for forgiveness. He just doesn’t want to string someone along when his heart is not into it.

“I didn’t,” he says, and it’s not the first time he’s told her that in the last twenty minutes. “I really wanted to be with you, but after the disrespect you pulled yesterday, I just don’t want that anymore.”

“You say that as if she doesn’t deserve it!” Laura exclaims. “She broke your heart.”

He shrugs. “We broke each other’s hearts.”

He knows it now. And he knows he’s mostly responsible for it. Because he was too proud, too immature to fully face whatever it was that was blossoming between you and him when you clearly were ready to commit.

Laura stays for a while longer. Crying, screaming at him, and Jungkook just does his best to remain impassive. It hurts him, it does, and in other circumstances he’s pretty sure he would have cried. He’s a sympathetic crier, and seeing Laura cry should be enough to make him cry, but somehow it isn’t. Somehow his gaze remains dry during the whole ordeal, even as he thinks of all the good moments he shared with her.

But it’s been just a little under three months, of them seeing each other. He’s known you for years now. The impact she has on him is just not the same as you, and he reckons he’s not an asshole enough to cry about you in front of her.

He’ll allow his heart to break for you later.

When Laura leaves, Jungkook walks her to the door. He even orders the Lyft for her, and when she begs him to not break up, he tells her he is glad he got to know her. At that she bristles, punches him in the chest and then she turns around to leave, without once looking over her shoulder.

His heart does ache for her then, and he reckons he does shed a tear about it. He wipes it quickly though, and when he turns around to head back upstairs, passing through the living room to reach the stairs, he’s met with a stunned Yoongi.

He doesn’t know how long Yoongi has been standing there, only that his older friend sports wide eyes.

“What happened?” Yoongi asks.

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head slightly. “I broke up with Laura.”

Jin pops his head out of the kitchen. “You did what?”

Valeria appears behind him, a sad smile on her lips. “I’m so sorry, JK.”

He’s stunned for a few seconds. Valeria does look concerned for him, but Jin has started smiling and Yoongi just looks confused.

“Don’t be,” Jungkook reassures Valeria, offering her a small, sad smile. “It is the right thing to do.”

Jin fully comes out of the kitchen, crossing his arms on his chest. “And why is it the right thing to do?”

Jungkook’s brow creases as he holds Jin’s gaze. “Uh?”

“Is there a certain someone that’s caused this… sudden decision?”

Yoongi seems like he’s just put two and two together. “Did something happen with Y/n?”

“Y/n?” Valeria lets out. She appears to be the one that is confused now. “The girl from the cottage?”

Jin grabs her elbow, slightly shaking his head at her as if to tell her not to talk, before turning his shit-eating grin back on Jungkook. “Good for you, bro.”

“Uh?” is all Jungkook can produce again before Jo and Taehyung appear too.

It’s the strangest thing. All his friends flocking in as if they sensed something important happened in his life. As if they sensed he might need them, or as if they too have sensed the shifting of the universe.

It has shifted right back into place, hasn’t it?

“Damn, what are you all doing here?” Taehyung asks as he passes by Jungkook, heading towards the kitchen. Jo is following him, and she and Valeria greet each other.

“Jungkook broke up with Laura,” Jin provides in a sing-song voice.

He’ll murder him. Jungkook will kill Jin in the most agonising way he can think of.

Taehyung stops in his tracks, and Jo bumps into him. She’s the one that turns with eyes big as saucers.

“What the fuck?”

It leads to a very strange conversation. They all sit in the kitchen, and since it’s still early afternoon Jin decides to make mimosa for everyone. Though the atmosphere feels heavy to Jungkook, somehow, it doesn’t linger too long as he speaks with his friends. As they speak to him too, and the conversation doesn’t linger on Laura for long either.

As if she didn’t even matter anyway. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe it’s always been about you anyway.

He knows it’s true now. But he’s too late, and he knows that too. He won’t ask anything of you again. Though he’s learned his lesson, and he won’t let his pride affect him anymore. It was a good defense mechanism for a time, albeit a dysfunctional one.

He’d rather leave it in the past.

Hobi and Jiho arrive as Yoongi leaves, and Jin is once again the one to break the news to the new arrivals. The glare Jiho has been reserving for him for weeks melts as her gaze matches the one Jo offered him earlier.

He reckons he’s getting tired of it, so he says, “It’s nothing, can you please all stop?”

He’s angry. He really does sound angry too, frustrated, embarrassed and annoyed. It works, but it creates an uncomfortable silence that he decides to flee this time around. He gets up from the table, tells them that he has to go, and he moves up to his room.

He decides to clean it then. To wash away every little lingering piece of Laura, and then he sits at his PC and games. He games for a while, until guilt catches up to him about not doing schoolwork today, and then he turns off his game to work on editing the pictures he’s starting to choose for the final project he’s already been working on since the beginning of the semester.

Pictures he took through the last few months appear on his monitor. They’re a collection of moments and emotions, and each picture tells its own story. He stills on the page for a time, watching the pictures without blinking, before he decides to add one to the others.

It feels like it deserves the centermost spot, and he doesn’t even hesitate as he reorders the pictures.

It’s late in the evening when his phone buzzes next to him. He hasn’t looked at it since he’s come up, and the text brought him back to reality, quite at the same time his stomach growls to remind him he hasn’t eaten all that much today.

He pushes his hair back, before grabbing the phone. He tilts his head to the side in surprise as he sees Jiho’s the one that texted him.

[8:37 pm] Jiho: hey, i told everyone to let you tell y/n urself. plz don’t be an asshole again🙄

It does put weight on his shoulders, but he knows Jiho is right. He’s about to tell her so when he receives another message from her.

[8:38 pm] Jiho: but u better talk to her soon bc she’ll find out herself if u don’t. she’ll be at the studio tmrw night

Now he feels as if someone is crushing his heart in his chest. Anxiety floods his blood, and he wonders, is that how you felt that night before he told you about Laura?

He reckons he deserves the anxiety, but you also deserve him telling you. So he tells Jiho he’ll be there, before turning off his phone and resting it face down on the desk.

He keeps working on his project until late that night. Until the night sky glitters up above as he looks out his window, reminding him that some things are forever.

Monday, September 24th

You think it’s early in the year for the weather to be so cold. Like the summer came and went in the blink of an eye, and it really does feel like it.

The summer warmth really feels like a distant memory as the cold fingers of the fall wind grabs at your hair, blowing it all around your head. It’s unusual for it to be so cold today, and from your weather app you know that it’s not going to last. It’s already supposed to start warming up in the next few days, but today it really feels as if you’ve time traveled to the autumn days that are looming over the horizon.

It starts raining a little before you get home, and you reckon you should have grabbed a Lyft to go back home. But you wanted to walk, and now you have to suck it up and live with the consequences of your choice.

Your wrist still aches a little, and the cold makes it feel worse, as if someone’s digging their fingers in your skin, right where it already hurts. You glare at it, as if it’s going to change anything. It’s not broken. Just sprained, and the doctor said you should be okay to dance at the competition, as long as you don’t go crazy with the hands motion.

Hence why you’ll be heading to the studio later tonight: you need to figure out how to adjust the choreography so you don’t hurt yourself more.

You sigh, though your house finally comes into sight. It’s a relief, it really is, until you see that your mother is home. You haven’t spoken yet since Saturday. She doesn’t even know you’ve hurt yourself, and you don’t see why she would need to know.

She’d probably just scold you because that’s the only thing she knows how to do.

You walk up to your house, wincing as a particularly strong gust of wind almost makes you lose footing. Luckily enough, you remain steady, and a few seconds later you finally reach the door.

You open it and step in, shutting it softly behind you hoping your mother won’t hear you.

Only, she’s sitting at the foot of the staircase that’s almost right in front of the door, just outside the hall, and a duffel bag lies on the ground next to her. It’s yours, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you take off your Airpods.

“What are you doing?” you ask her as you remove the platform boots you wore to college today. It’s hard to unzip them with just one hand, but you manage to succeed after a few tries.

Your mother just remains silent. Confusion moves through you even more, and you’re getting out of the hall when her eyes fall on the brace around your wrist.

“What happened?” she asks. The way she says it is curt, as if she’s asking just because she has to, and not because she’s concerned.

You know damn well she’s not concerned. And it’s not like you will tell her about Jungkook, Laura and the whole thing that led to you spraining your wrist. So you just shrug and say, “Nothing really, just a sprain.”

She nods at this, and then she kicks at the duffel bag next to her. “It’s going to make this hard to carry.”

“Why would I carry this?”

You’re stupid sometimes. Book smart, street stupid. Because it’s obvious. To outside eyes, what is going to happen is completely obvious. But you just stand there, watching her with an eyebrow cocked quizzically.

“Because you don’t get to live here anymore.”

You laugh. You genuinely start laughing, shaking your head. “Okay mom, of course.”

You walk around the duffel bag and her, and you’re halfway up the stairs when she speaks again. “I’m serious, Y/n. I’ve had enough of you living under my roof. I don’t have to be taking care of you anymore, not at your age.”

You freeze, before slowly turning to look at her. “What?”

“You can try living on campus or getting an apartment, I really don’t care. I’m giving you a month to be out. You can keep the furniture that’s in your room.”

She’s still sitting with her back turned to you, because you know she’s too much of a coward to tell you while looking you in the eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“You can keep practicing at the studio. And no, you don’t have to pay for it. And I’ll pay for your college until the end. I just don’t want you living under my roof anymore.”

You’re stunned for so long you think you’ve been turned into a statue. You don’t know what to say, and your brain can’t really process what she’s saying. “And you expect me to go right now?”

She nods, finally glancing at you over her shoulder. “Yes. I prepared a bag that should have everything you need.”

You scoff, and you start feeling like you’re going to be sick. Like someone pulled a rug under your feet, and you’re crashing to the ground.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She nods again, slowly getting up. “Yes, Y/n. Go live with your father for all I care.”

“He’s in California!” you burst. “College is a twenty minute walk from here.”

“You can find some housing that’s near college,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not my business anymore.”

“By tonight?”

You’re seeing red. No, in fact, you’re way past the red, everything turning fully white as fury grabs you into its hold, blinding you.

“Yes.” There’s a silence, and then she adds, “I’m sure you could stay with the Hans. Or some other friends.”

You don’t remember the rest of the fight. You remember screaming, and you remember her screaming back. You remember going up to your room to make sure you really had what you needed, packing an extra bag yourself as she screams at you from the door to your room. Telling you how much she hates you and hates that you’re the reason why the love of her life left.

As if she’s not the one who cheated on him. And when you tell her so, she strides in your room and slaps you straight across the cheek. She’s wearing rings, and you feel your skin sting where one of the rings cut through your cheek.

A glance in the mirror confirms that you are already bleeding.

Then all you remember is walking to the studio. Carrying the bags, not even feeling their weight. You can barely even feel the ache in your wrist. You hide in the room you usually take for refuge, and it strikes you then that it might be your actual last refuge.

Because you don’t have a house anymore.

You want to call your father, you want to call Jiho, you want to scream and throw up and rage at the world. But all you can do is sit with your back against the mirror.

Jiho is supposed to come later anyway. You just need to wait for her.

You watch the sun lowering on the horizon, light moving on the floor as it slowly sets, a long time after you’ve gotten to the studio. You feel as if you don’t move, then maybe none of this will be real, that maybe you’re going to wake up from a really bad nightmare.

Your mother is a bad mother, she is, but she’s not a monster.

Your eyes slide to the bags. They’re in the semi-obscurity next to the door, because you haven’t turned the lights on. But they’re still there, and it’s proof that it really did happen.

That your mother is really the monster you prayed she’d never be.

Tears come to you then. Welling up in your eyes, stabbing into your heart, and you pull your knees to your chest, resting your head on them as you wrap your arms around them. As if holding yourself will stop you from breaking.

You reckon you’re already fragile. You’ve barely glued the pieces of your heart back together after Jungkook, so maybe you break a little harder.

Maybe the tears and the pain are tenfold what they would have been otherwise. Because you’re in pain. It physically hurts a lot more than Jungkook did. Because a mother is supposed to protect you, to love you unconditionally.

The last time you think your mom loved you was when you were eight and practicing ballet. Long before you gave up on it to focus on dance styles that felt more natural to you, with upbeat music that you could get lost in easier.

You remember the last day she told you. You won a competition, and when you got off the stage she gave you flowers and told you she loved you. She brought you to get ice cream after, and you stained your outfit as you ate. She yelled at you then, told you that you had to be better.

You never were good enough. You’d never be good enough to live up to her expectations, and you accepted that a while ago. But you never thought, never could imagine that she’d choose to kick you out.

Because that’s what happened. You’ve been kicked out of your house, kicked out of the home you grew up in. Kicked out of the memories of laughter and dancing around the kitchen with your father. Of Christmas wrapping paper and twinkling lights, of crying at the dinner table because you didn’t understand a math concept and your father sucked at trying to help.

You’ve been kicked out of the house where you and Jiho played Wii in the basement when you were younger, kicked out of the house that your father left from.

You’re spiraling. You know you are, and your breathing is turning erratic as panic wells up in your chest. What are you even supposed to do?

A soft knock at the door startles you. You don’t even remember shutting it behind you. All you know is that the sun is fully set when your brain focuses back on the present, and dusk has made the studio dark in shades of grey that match the bleak colour of your feelings.

You look at the door, but it’s lacking a window for you to see who’s on the other side. You assume it must be Jiho, and you really feel like crying in her arms for a time. So you get up on wobbly feet, making your way to the door, seeking your best friend’s comfort.

You almost let out a terrified scream when you open the door and Jeon Jungkook is standing on the other side, a halo of light surrounding him and blinding you coincidentally.

You blink a few times, as if it’s going to make him disappear, but you still see him once you hold your eyelids still.

He’s in front of you, wearing an oversized grey crewneck over a black t-shirt. He’s holding bubble teas, and glasses you’ve never seen him wear before sit on his nose. His hair is a mess around his head from the wind outside, and his eyes surveys you as you just stand there.

But he has no business being here right now, when you’re breaking. It just breaks harder, and he looks utterly terrified as tears well up in your eyes again, so much so that they start rolling on your cheeks.

He says your name, so softly you don’t really hear him. He says your name as if you’re made of glass, and maybe you are. Maybe you are and all that you know how to do is break and break and break.

Your face falls in your hands, and you cry, you sob, and it takes Jungkook a few hesitant seconds before he steps closer to you and wraps an arm loosely around you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a small voice.

You grab his shirt with your uninjured hand and press your forehead against him. He’s warm, and it hurts even more.

But you don’t have anything left in you that can break. Your mother made sure of that, he made sure of that all those months ago. All that’s left is an ocean of sorrow, and you fear you’ve just seen the surface.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” he asks again.

You say something through your tears, but you reckon it was inaudible. So you steel yourself, before asking, “Why are you here?”

He pulls you in, closes the door behind him. You fall in darkness again. “Why is it so dark?”

“Hold on,” you say though you’re still crying. You let go of his shirt before moving to the light switch. You keep your back turned to him as the neon lights flicker to life around you.

“Y/n, what’s happening?” he enquires once more.

You hate him. You hate him so much you want to turn around and move back to the comfort of his arms. Because then you can focus on the pain he causes, on the lava he pours into your blood. You’ve already gotten used to it, and it’s easier to handle that than whatever your mother did to you.

“My mother kicked me out,” you reply, using the sleeve of your shirt to dry your cheeks.

You’re surprised when no new tears meet those that have already cascaded down your face.

“What?”

You chuckle, ever so bitterly. “You heard me right.”

He’s silent for so long you turn around. And he looks so sad it only makes you break again, and fresh silver lines your gaze. Especially as his eyes fall to the cut on your cheek, that you at least managed to clean when you got to the studio. All you can do is hope he won’t mention it.

“What are you doing here anyway?” you ask as you blink the tears away.

“Jiho told me to come.”

So he’s not going to mention it, but you’re going to kill Jiho. You’re pretty positive you’re going to eviscerate her the next time you see her. It’s an emotion other than the sorrow, and you cling to it as best as you can, because right now it feels like preservation.

“I don’t need your help,” you say, folding your arms on your chest.

It makes your sprained wrist hurt, and you let your arms fall at your side almost immediately.

Jungkook just nods, and he pulls at his piercing, like you’ve seen him do a thousand times before. He glances at your bags next to the door, and then holds up one of the bobas.

“Do you want a bubble tea?”

It brings you back to Saturday, and goddamn him you’re crying again. “No.”

He takes a step towards you, then seems to realize he isn’t the one that should be comforting you. Not with Laura in the picture.

“I got your favourite.”

You know he did. You know Jungkook would always get your favourite bubble tea, because that’s just the person that he is. As much as he breaks, Jungkook cares too.

You inhale sharply, trying to keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks. “Why?”

He seems like he wants to talk, to say something, but he remains silent. He just holds the bubble tea out between the two of you, and you watch it as if it’s going to blow before you finally walk towards him.

You grab it with shaky hands, before taking a long swig.

“Better?”

You don’t know how drinking bubble tea will make you feel better about getting kicked out, so you just remain silent. Jungkook figures you don’t want to say anything, and he just stands there, looking away from you as if to give you privacy.

For a few seconds, all you can picture is how he cared last Saturday.

“I sprained my wrist,” you tell him. And then you bristle at your sight as you look in the mirror on the wall.

Your face is flushed red, eyes bloodshot and nose putting Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer to shame. You look positively horrible, hair ruffled and all out of place.

“Yeah,” he replies flatly. He then worries at his piercing some more, and you turn your gaze away from the mirror. “Are you going to be okay for nationals?”

You realize the next time you might be in a bedroom is at the hotel for nationals, and you’re back to crying. “I don’t know,” you say, and this time Jungkook really hugs you, pulling you flush against his chest.

You hate that you’re crying in his arms, but he’s warm and solid, and right now it’s all that you need.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he whispers reassuringly, brushing his hand on your back in a soothing manner. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I have nowhere to stay tonight,” you admit.

It feels as if he holds you a little tighter. “You can come over to mine. Stay in my room, I can grab the couch.”

It is a stupid idea, and it just makes you cry more. “Why?”

“I care about you,” he says simply.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care and shouldn’t make you feel safe. But he does. He still makes you feel safe even though he broke your heart. Even though he’s hers.

You think about her. You think of her smug smile Saturday. And maybe it makes you a bitch, maybe it makes you worse than she is, but you say, “Are you sure the boys wouldn’t mind?”

He pulls away so he can look you in the eyes. “Yeah. They love you, they will be happy to help.”

You refuse to mention Laura. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s arms. Instead, you nod once, sniffling a little. And then you glance down at his chest, and at the wet spot you left behind. “Sorry about that.”

He looks down too, before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s okay. Let me grab your bags, I’ll call a Lyft.”

You’ve stepped in a parallel universe, haven’t you? One where Jungkook is allowed to take care of you, one where he felt the way that you felt under the stars that night. And you’re selfish. You’re selfish and you decide to let him do it. To let him care for you.

You’ll find a way to fix things yourself tomorrow. But tonight, tonight you’ll let yourself find comfort in his arms and presence. Then maybe the sun will never rise and tomorrow will never come.

Maybe you’ll be allowed to stay in his arms until eternity takes you in its embrace instead.

*****

It takes you a lot of courage not to cry in the Lyft. Not to look at Jungkook and sob again. It takes you even more courage to sit on your side, miles away from him, with your bags creating a physical border between the two of you.

You’re weak, and you want him to make you feel weaker still. Until you die and can’t feel anything anymore.

The Lyft driver has some music playing on the radio, and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jungkook bobbing his head to the beat. He’s texted away on his phone for the first part of the drive, and you assume he’s informed the boys that you’re coming over.

You wonder what they think, and then you remind yourself that you don’t care. You really just need a place to stay.

You’re not surprised when you receive a text from Jimin, when you’re just a few streets away from their house. It confirms the fact that Jungkook told them, because as you open your phone, you read,

[9:07 pm] park.jm: hey, if u’d rather stay in my room, u’re welcome to it🤗 i’m not gonna be home tonight

You’ve remained friends with Jimin after the night you kissed. As a matter of fact, you think you’re way closer now, mostly because he’s dropped the flirty persona, and now you’ve started seeing the person that he is underneath.

Which is, a very caring and kind person.

You type back a reply, teeth pulling at the ever-constant dry skin of your bottom lip.

[9:08 pm] You: thank u💛 i’ll figure it out later [9:08 pm] You: if jk’s chill with it, i don’t mind staying in his room tho [9:09 pm] park.jm: sounds good!

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Jimin. That leaves you to focus on the music on the radio again, and on the splatter of the rain on the windshield and side windows. It only takes a few more minutes, and then the car is stopping in front of the house.

Jungkook grabs your bags as he thanks the driver, and he gets out before you do. You hesitate long enough for Jungkook to have walked around the car, and you figure you have nowhere else to go, so why not just do it?

Why not just claim Jungkook’s room as yours for the night?

It’s not a nice feeling. But it’s starting to take room in your heart, replacing the hurt that your mother left behind. You want to hurt someone, just so you can transfer the pain to someone else. You never thought you’d have it in you to feel this way, but it just feels like it’d be a relief.

Give someone else the weight to bear. You’ve had enough of it.

You’re trying not to think about your mother too much. You know the moment you’ll be left with your thoughts again you’ll crash, so you try to focus on the fact Jungkook’s waiting for you just outside the door.

It works. Almost.

You thank the driver, and then you open the car door, stepping outside into the rain. The only thing you notice is that some drops are clouding Jungkook’s glasses where he’s standing waiting for you, but he turns his back to you and walks to the door without saying anything.

It feels weird, but you still follow him. He waits for you by the door, and offers you a smile as you stop next to him.

“They shouldn’t talk to you about it,” he says as he glances towards the door. “And if someone makes a comment, I promise I’ll beat the shit out of them.”

That sounds a little excessive, and it takes you aback. You remain silent for a time, just taking in the noises and smells of the rainy world around you.

“I… are we going to hang out with them?” you ask.

You don’t realize you’ve used the word ‘we’ until Jungkook repeats it. “We can stay in my room, if you prefer.”

“I…” you trail off, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that better.”

He offers you another sweet smile, a soft smile you haven’t seen in months now. “Alright then. We can go straight up to my room.”

You thank him with the smallest voice you can muster up, and then you’re walking into his home behind him, trying to hide behind his large frame so his friends – your friends – won’t see you.

Luckily enough, the living room is empty, even though the TV is on and playing some drama you know for a fact Jo has been watching with Taehyung. You wonder where they’re hiding, but you’re thankful you don’t have to confront them as Jungkook leads you to the staircase, and then up to his room.

You only relax when you step in the cool darkness of his room. Jungkook drops your bags by the door before turning his LED lights on, and they shine purple around you. You eye his room – it’s a lot cleaner then you saw it the last time you stood in it, the night he told you about the accident. Not that it was very messy then, but it looks and smells like Jungkook has just cleaned it.

It feels homey, and it makes your eyes well up again. Jungkook has his back turned to you as he moves to his PC, before sitting in his gaming chair. He turns to look at you, tongue playing with his piercing for a few long silent seconds.

You just stay by the door, fighting the tears in your gaze.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asks, gently, his big doe eyes casting softness on his entire aura.

You dry the lone tear that’s escaped the confines of your eye with your thumb, before folding your arms on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”

He offers you a sad, knowing smile, before glancing pointedly at his bed. “You can first get comfortable.”

You don’t know why, but it makes you chuckle a little. You reckon you might be going crazy, but you can’t even bring yourself to care.

“You’re just going to sit there?” you enquire.

He shrugs. “Would you rather me sit with you?”

Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you answer, “Are you comfortable with that?”

It’s the closest you’ll go to mentioning Laura tonight. If he wants to pretend she doesn’t exist, then you’ll follow his lead.

“Of course,” he simply says, and you watch as he moves to his bed. The floor creaks as he steps closer, and you watch as he rearranges his pillows so they can serve as a backrest. He then sits on the side of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come here.”

You bite at your tongue to refrain from saying something, instead nodding your head as you cross the distance between you and him.

It feels a little awkward sitting there, but Jungkook saves you by saying, “Do you feel comfortable confiding in me?”

You glance at him. His eyes are already set on you, and it makes something ache so deeply in your chest that you think you might actually be dying.

“I mean, I’d be better off talking to Jiho, uh?” You shrug your shoulders. “I… is it okay if I talk to you?”

He nods. “As I said earlier, I care about you. You can tell me anything if it can help make you feel better.”

You highly doubt it’ll help. You highly doubt revealing to the man that broke your heart that your mother hates you will help in any way. So you choose to say something else instead.

“You know my parents divorced, right?” You wait for him to give you an indication that he does, and then your gaze slides to the floor, before settling on a vague spot next to his gaming chair. “I don’t think you know the reason why. Only Jiho and her brother do, and I’ve never really told anyone else.” You steel yourself, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “My mother cheated on my dad before I was born? And uh… He’s not my dad. We learned when I was sixteen.”

A heavy silence follows your revelation. You’re too broken and exhausted to be ashamed, so you just shrug your shoulders. “That part doesn’t even matter anyway.”

You completely freeze when Jungkook grabs your uninjured hand, slowly forcing you to unclench your fist by gently pulling on your fingers. “You have the right to say it matters,” he carefully says.

You feel like falling in his arms again, but you let him play with your fingers instead. “It… it does matter. My mother has always blamed me for him leaving. Said if I never was born then he would have stayed with her.” You’re crying softly now, silently. “I think that’s the reason why she decided to kick me out today. She’s had enough.”

“I don’t have the words to convey how sorry I am that you’ve experienced that.”

You let out a broken sound, and then your crying is nothing but silent, with you sobbing as you hide your face in your hands. Jungkook wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. And he holds you as you break, as if the breaking has never scared him. You don’t know how he does it: the night you saw him break right in this room you fled like a coward.

“It hurts so bad”, you say through your tears, and the words cause a break in the sobbing. “Like, I never thought she’d go this far.”

He runs a hand on your back, waiting for you to continue.

“We barely even talk most of the time, but we got in a fight on Saturday before practice. Something about money. And it doesn’t even make sense because today she said she’ll still pay for everything, but she’s given me a month to be out of the house.”

The position in which Jungkook is holding you is a little uncomfortable, so you push on his chest, until he lets you straighten. You balk at the sight of tears on his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” you ask, forgetting all about your own pain for a few seconds.

He chuckles sadly, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Sorry. I’m a sympathetic crier.”

It’s endearing. And you know the last thing you should feel when it comes to Jeon Jungkook is endearment, but you’ll allow it for tonight.

“It’s fine”, you reassure him. “I’m going to be fine.”

You say it as if he’s the one that needs comforting, and he catches on to it right away. “You’re not alone, you know?”

You blink back tears as one rolls on his cheeks. It makes him laugh awkwardly, and he quickly dries it, this time using the sleeve of his shirt.

And he has no business telling you you’re not alone. It makes you look away as you’re fighting the urge to yell at him. To yell at him for breaking your heart, to yell at him for not listening to you, for moving on so quickly.

He’s right though. You’re not alone. You have friends that are there for you, no matter how far away they feel like.

“It’s just…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “It fucking sucks that my mother hates me so bad. No matter what I do she just always hates me, and sometimes it does feel like everything is my fault.”

“It’s a natural way to feel after she’s blamed you for years”, Jungkook carefully replies, as if he too has heard the hidden meaning behind your words.

As if he too knows you’re also referring to how you lost him.

“But you know that it isn’t, right?” he adds. “People make mistakes. That’s what makes all of us human.”

“I just…” Now you break even more. You can barely breathe for a few seconds, and it feels like you’re burning inside, so badly you think all that will be left of you are charred remains. “I just wish my mother would love me? It’s so fucking hard to see happy families all around when all I’ve got is her.”

You’re talking about Jiho and her family. Jungkook probably doesn’t know, and you reckon it isn’t really relevant. Because Jiho’s family is not the only happy family in your vicinity. You see couples on walks with their kids all the time in your neighbourhood, you see some friends from high school getting married and starting their own little family. And you’d like to think your friends are your family – it does feel like it most of the time. But today it feels as if you’re back in that forgotten space where no one knows about you.

Where all that you are is the physical embodiment of breaking.

“You know, I still talk to my dad,” you add after you’ve fought a wave of panic. “But he has his own family now. He’s married, and they have a son.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s still crying. In silence, just letting his tears flow freely. His nose has turned red, and you want to reach out and ruffle his hair. You want to wipe his tears and hold him, making sure that he’ll never hurt.

But that’s not your job. So you just let out a small laugh. “Stop crying.”

He furrows his brows before chuckling. “Sorry.”

“We can stop talking about it if you want,” you suggest.

He forcefully shakes his head no a few times. “No. You need to talk, and you deserve to be listened to.”

You hate him. You wish you could show him that he’s ripped your heart from your chest, that he broke you that July night. When he chose not to listen to you, when his pride won over whatever emotions the starry night raised between you.

He’s sensed your unease, because he adds, “I’ll never do that again.”

“But why, Jungkook?” you ask, voice trembling. “Why did you do it in the first place?”

His hand moves between you as if he wants to hold you again, but his arm falls back to his side. “I was too proud. We can talk about it tomorrow?”

You scoff, but then crease your brow. Because if he’s referencing to a tomorrow, maybe he doesn’t expect you’ll have to leave again. “Why?”

“Because you’re vulnerable right now, and I think it’s better to process what happened today before we focus on what happened in the past.”

Jungkook sounds as if he’s majoring in psychology, and not photography. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Why?” you repeat, as if it’s the only word known to you.

“Because I think you still have a lot more to say about your mother. And I’d hate myself if I brought the conversation to me.”

“Jungkook…”

He shrugs. “I’m serious, I was a dick. And I don’t want to be like that anymore. So tonight we’ll figure out what we can do to fix your situation, and then we can talk some more tomorrow.” He offers you a tentative smile. It’s a little hopeful, like he wants you to stay.

And tonight, you’re foolish enough to believe you will.

“What should I do?” you ask after a while of silence. “I never thought I’d have to find a place to stay in such a short amount of time.”

He worries at his piercing, and then he’s getting up to walk to his PC setup. He turns it on, before glancing at you. “Come here.”

You hesitate, but when he moves the chair so it’s facing you, you figure it’s better if you just do as he asked. So you get up and cross the distance between you once again, before plopping down in the chair. Jungkook turns you towards the keyboard, and then he leans down to press in his password.

You catch a whiff of his detergent from so close, and maybe of some cologne, though it’s pretty faded. It distracts you from your ocean of sorrow, and you just watch him with wide eyes as he waits for the monitor to show its welcome screen.

“Why don’t you look up some apartments? Figure out what you’d like to live in.”

It’s a good suggestion, but it makes you feel infinitely insecure. “I don’t know what I’d like to live in.”

He glances at you, offering you an encouraging smile. “Do you want a studio, or do you want your room to be separated from the rest of your living area?”

You think about it for a time. You’ve always been used to having your own room, and you’ve always liked the comfort of a closed door when you sleep at night. So you reply, “I’d like to have a room.”

He nods his head, before focusing on the monitor as he opens the web browser, and then searches for a website where you can look through listed places to rent. He puts in some filters, asking you more questions to guide the search – like your budget, if you want an office, if you need a parking spot.

You’re so thankful to have him with you right now you think you’ll cry again. You succeed at blinking the new wave of tears away though, and then you start looking at the apartments.

A whole hour later, you’ve made a list of places you’d like to go visit. Jungkook suggests to go sometime over the weekend, but with midterms coming and having to practice for nationals, you feel like you’re running out of time.

It makes panic rise in you, and Jungkook quickly gets up from where he’s been sitting on his bed. In two long strides he’s already next to you, and he turns the chair away from his monitor.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he says gently. “You’ve got a good list, and I can help by visiting some of them if you want.” He slowly nods. “That could work. I could take videos for you.”

“Most of them are on the other side of town.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine, I can take the bus. I can visit a couple of them on the same day too.”

When you start crying, Jungkook grabs your hand to pull you up. You don’t resist, and you let him guide you to his bed.

“Sit.”

You don’t move, instead burying your face in your hands.

He says your name gently, pulling you in yet another hug. He’s firm next to you, warm and real, and in this moment you realize you don’t want him to be gone when tomorrow comes.

But he’s right, and it’s better if you focus on figuring where to live for tonight. Already, you feel a little reassured that things will work out.

He lets you go when your tears recede, and you let out a small laugh as you notice he’s shed a couple of his own too.

“You really are a sympathetic crier,” you tease, and it makes both of you laugh some more.

“Sorry.”

His hands are still on your shoulders, and your mind chooses this moment to focus on the spot where his palms trace warm spots on you. He notices the change in your expression right away, and he lets his arms fall to his side.

“Don’t apologize,” you say, and you let your gaze drop to a random spot on his chest. Mostly because his big eyes have started feeling like a safe haven far too much. “You’d really go visit some apartments for me?”

He sits on the bed, nodding his head. “Yes, of course. Unless you’d rather go yourself, which would be totally understandable.”

You kind of do, because you know you’ll need to see the places yourself to decide which one you want to build your home in. But Jungkook could pinpoint which locations are worth visiting…

“Maybe you can visit a couple and send videos?” you suggest, even though that’s what he already said he’d do. “And you tell me which you prefer and all.”

He smiles at you, a little hesitantly. “My opinion is not important.”

He’s right, it’s not. But at the same it is, so you only shrug your shoulders. “You’re not stupid, I’m pretty sure you can tell if a place sucks.”

“Right.” He laughs a little, that childish laugh of his you haven’t heard from him since the weekend at the cottage. It stabs into your chest a little, but you reckon you’ve cried way too much tonight to be able to cry some more.

Or maybe the way his eyes are crinkling at the corners, housing hearths of happiness that shine brightly as he looks up at you… Maybe that is the true reason why you don’t feel like crying anymore.

You look away, taking a deep, steadying breath. You don’t know what good it does you, but it’s easier to think when you’re not directly looking at him.

“What’s next though?” you ask.

“A trip to Ikea?” he proposes, shrugging his shoulders. “We figure out what furniture you need, what home appliances and all of that shit.”

“My mother is letting me keep the furniture in my room.”

He nods. “Then the bedroom is going to be easy. You might want a dinner table or a couch, or maybe just a desk?”

You decide to sit next to him before replying, letting yourself think about it for a time. “It’d be nice to have a little cozy living room area.”

You don’t see it, but he’s smiling softly as he gazes at your profile. “What do you have in mind?”

“Mmh,” you let out. “Maybe a cute little coffee table, and some plants? I don’t watch TV a lot, but I feel like that’s a necessary thing in an apartment.”

He chuckles. “You don’t need to have a TV. You can save up the money for other stuff.”

You’re too drained to feel stressed about the financial aspect, but you still say, “I hope I made enough money over the summer to be able to afford all of that.”

His expression turns somber. “You can always get a part-time job to help. And you mentioned you still talk to your dad. Is your relationship good enough with him to talk about money?”

For the first time tonight, you realize there might be a chance you’ll truly make it out of this situation. And Jungkook’s words remind you that your father suggested himself that you move out of your mother’s house. Maybe he’d truly be inclined to help.

“I could try,” you say after a few seconds of thinking. “I’ll call him tomorrow, see what he thinks about this whole situation.”

Jungkook offers you an encouraging nod. “Good idea.”

As silence fills the room around you once more, you find yourself yawning. You hide it behind the back of your hand, but Jungkook still notices. He chuckles a little, and you throw him a sheepish look.

“Sorry, I’m exhausted,” you admit.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds. “As much as I feel like I still have a lot to do, I think sleeping would be better.”

“You’ll also feel better in the morning,” he says, smiling softly. “Trust me.”

You chuckle, because you don’t know if he’s right but you sure hope that he is. “Let’s hope so.” You look around, eyes settling on your bags by the door. “Is there any chance that I could take a shower?”

He’s up before you’ve even finished your sentence. “Of course. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

*****

Jungkook has a hard time believing that you are currently sleeping in his bed behind him. He barely even dares look over his shoulder, afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. But each time he fails to resist the urge, you’re still there. Features serene in your sleep, arms wrapped around a pillow.

You told him you liked to hug something while you slept, and he made sure to tuck that piece of information in the safest corner of his brain.

When you came back from your shower, hair wet and cheeks red from the water – or maybe from crying some more – Jungkook had started a game with Taehyung. You told him that he could play while you slept, and he kept the volume to a minimum since then, though he reckons you’d probably sleep through a hurricane.

It’s unbelievable that you’re here. That you’re real, that maybe he’ll be able to fix things with you. He’s not foolish to expect he deserves to be the one that you love. He knows he’s lost that privilege a while ago. But he thinks that maybe, maybe you could be friends.

He finds a strange form of comfort in thoughts of friendship with you.

He’ll help you. He’s already decided he’ll do everything he needs to do to make sure you settle into your apartment comfortably. It’s what you deserve, and if you let him, he’ll make sure you forget about your mother.

He knew you had a bad relationship with her, but he has never suspected that it was so bad. And he didn’t tell you, won’t tell you either, but he’s glad that you’re out of that toxic environment.

Maybe it’ll allow you to grow and finally start healing. And he knows more than anyone on this Earth how much healing you deserve.

You don’t deserve any of the pain that you’ve been through.

Taehyung went to bed about twenty minutes ago, and Jungkook has just been looking at YouTube videos since then. He doesn’t want to go to sleep yet, mostly because he enjoys your presence, and he doesn’t want to have to go downstairs.

But he told you he would, so he will.

He’s not really paying any attention to the video unfolding on his monitor. As a matter of fact, all he can think of is that he understands you now, or at least he’s starting to. Starting to understand the complicated maze that is your heart, starting to know how to navigate its halls.

He can’t wait to talk to you more tomorrow. To tell you he’s not with Laura anymore, that he’s sorry for the pain he put you through. He’s anxious about it, and maybe that most of all is the reason why he doesn’t want to go downstairs.

Because there’s a high possibility that you’re just going to leave tomorrow, and he reckons he’d deserve it.

He sighs, blinking his tiredness away. He readjusts his glasses on his nose, tries to focus on the video, but he’s dozing off.

No matter how much he fights it, he knows he’ll just end up falling asleep in his gaming chair. So he turns off the computer, turning the chair around as silently as possible to glance at you. You shift a little where you’re lying, burrowing your face in the pillow.

Jungkook doesn’t think he is ready to feel the pang it causes in his heart, because he almost starts crying then. But he’s cried enough tonight – not nearly as much as you, of course. So he blinks the emotion away, and then he stands.

He moves towards his bed, walking around it to reach the empty side. He can’t resist but sit on it, and as creepy as it might be he just looks at you for a few seconds.

You’re real. You’re real and in his bed, under his comforter, like the place belongs to you. He thinks maybe it does.

Jungkook takes off his glasses, putting them down on the night table. He rubs his nose where the pads left little indents, sighing deeply before lying down. He knows he shouldn’t, knows he should just grab his pillow and go, but he wants to be in your company just a little longer.

He’s a fool, he knows he is, and he falls asleep in the next few seconds.

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☆☆☆☆☆

Soooo we're finally nearing the end of the angst are we?? I'm sorry I ended it here, this chapter used to be over 20k and I split it in two hahaha did we still like it??

Taglist (strike-through means dumblr is not letting me tag you my bad): add yourself to my taglist by following this link

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xiaojunsmintchoco · 1 year

Text

Taste of love - Kim Mingyu

Pairing: food science student!yn x food science student!mingyu

Genre: fluff, angst; enemies to lovers, polytechnic au

Synopsis: You and Mingyu have always been in competition for the top spot at everything since secondary school and the cycle doesn't end even after graduation, because you both end up in the same polytechnic AND the same food science course. Until one day, the professor puts both of you together for a year end project, and you both have to knock your heads together if you want to maintain your top GPAs.

CW: mentions of food (a lot because they’re studying food science)

wc: about 6.9k

a/n: this fic is dedicated to @bangchan-fairy! bee, I hope you like your (belated) christmas gift, and thank you so much for being one of the first moots to see me through my days as a beginning writer starting out on shaky steps — I truly appreciate the support 🧡 I hope you had a great christmas, and i wish you an amazing 2023 ahead!

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“Finally, we’re back in the kitchen!” You exclaim to your best friend, Minho as you follow your polytechnic class to the food laboratory. “God, when I left the house this morning, I swore that if we had to attend another lecture today, I’m officially dropping out of this course,” you add, with a dramatic sigh and a hand on your forehead, as if you were about to faint.

Minho gasps in mock horror, and puts a hand to his chest. “So you were planning to leave me to take this course alone? Just because of the lectures?” he asks incredulously.

You flick his forehead jokingly. “Of course not,” you laugh. “We promised we’d graduate from this polytechnic and obtain our diploma together, didn’t we?”

“Glad you didn’t forget, else into the air fryer you go,” he replies. "180 degrees for 20 minutes," he adds with a smirk as you both put on your aprons and caps before turning back to the front to wait for the teacher’s instructions.

The sound of a chair being dragged out from the work desk beside you startles you, and you wish you didn't turn your head to find out who it was. You exchange dirty looks with said person – Kim Mingyu.

Mingyu had been your sworn rival ever since you both started secondary school. From grades to leadership positions to competition results, you were always nearly neck and neck with each other at everything – except that one of you would end up on top in the end. The arrogant glances and smug smirks Mingyu would send you whenever he beat you to the first place in anything never failed to make you bristle with anger. You thought the competition would end when you finished your final exam and graduated from secondary school, but to your dismay, he picked the same polytechnic course as you. So, here you both are, continuing your long-term rivalry in Nanyang Polytechnic's Food and Nutrition course.

"Alright, class," your professor announces as she makes her way into the classroom. "Listen up! As you know, we've been studying Asian food this week, so today we're going to try our hand at making popiah. On your work benches you should see the recipe as well as the ingredients you'll need. Feel free to add anything else you'd like to the fillings. Work on it with your partner, and by the end of the lesson we'll give them a try. If you need any help, I'll be around".

You and Minho quickly skim over the recipe for the Teochew-style spring rolls. "I'll make the filling, while you can make the wrappers?" Minho suggests.

And just like that, both of you are ready to start work. Throwing open the cupboard doors, both of you successfully locate the grater, mixing bowl, frying pans and other utensils. You begin by combining flour, salt and water in the bowl, then straining the batter to remove the extra lumps. After that, you set the stove to low heat and place the pan on it. "Good thing I brought my pastry brush today," you offhandedly remark to Minho as you pull the brush out of your apron pocket. Dipping the brush into the batter, you proceed to brush the batter onto the pan, brushing several times to ensure the wrapper would not have holes in it. When the first wrapper is done, you peel it off and set it aside on a clean plate, and repeat the process again until you have five wrappers complete. "I'm done with the wrappers, are you almost done with the fillings?" you ask Minho as he's busy frying an omelette.

"Yes, I just need to cut this into long strips after and then we can wrap the popiah," Minho replies, removing the omelette from the pan and placing it on a plate to cool. "In the meantime, what about you grind some peanuts? There should be a mortar and pestle in the cupboard and some peanuts in the drawer," he suggests.

"Sure! That's a great idea," you compliment your friend and get the peanuts, as well as the mortar and pestle. Pouring the peanuts into the mortar, you pound them with the pestle until they're finely ground up. At the same time, Minho is done with the omelette strips, so you both get round to wrapping the popiahs. It doesn't take that long, and soon both of you have three plates of popiah, all cut into pieces that are one inch in breadth.

"Cheers," Minho declares as you each pick up a piece of popiah with chopsticks, gently bringing his piece to yours before you both pop them in your mouth. The flavours in the popiah explode in your mouth, the savoury flavours of the omelette strips and dried shrimps and sweet flavours of grated vegetables and jicama blending together perfectly like a match made in heaven, enhanced further by the sweet-spicy notes of the chili sauce.

“I think we did a great job!” You remark to your partner, eyes wide in amazement. Minho simply nods, too enraptured by the tasty creation both of you had made together.

Turns out, the teacher agrees with both of you. “The skin is not too thick or thin, and overall, your popiah is very flavourful. I also really like the addition of omelette strips and ground peanuts for extra protein,” the teacher comments after sampling a piece of the popiah you and Minho had made. “Well done, y/n and Minho! Also, the use of the pastry brush for the popiah skin was smart”.

You both give the teacher a small bow and thank her as she moves to the next table, giving Minho a discreet high-five. “Hmm, it’s not bad, but the popiah skin is a bit lumpy and a bit too thick. How did you prepare it?” The teacher asks Mingyu and his partner, Junhui.

“I just spooned the batter onto the pan and spread it out,” Mingyu answers.

“Did you strain the batter before doing so?” The teacher fires another question at them. You watch on, mildly amused, as both of them exchange glances and shake their heads.

“Ah, so that is why the batter did not turn out that well. In the future, strain the batter before cooking it, and try to use a pastry brush like y/n and Minho have done,” the teacher remarks to both boys before moving on to the next table, and you don’t miss the glance of disdain Mingyu sends in your direction, which for some reason causes the sweet feelings of a small victory to bloom in your heart. Hey, it was only the first practical cooking session your class had had in a long time, but you felt good that you were able to cook up a better dish than him this time. You can’t resist the urge to send him a smirk and mouth “watch and learn” to him, and that gleeful feeling only grows as his scowl intensifies as well.

“Okay class, as you all know, we’ll be starting our year-end projects soon, so I’ll be giving out some details today,” your teacher declares, bringing your attention back to the front of the kitchen. “I’ve paired all of you up, and in your pairs you will pick a dish to do a macronutrient and micronutrient analysis of. After which, both of you will need to recreate the dish, but make it healthier by changing up the cooking methods or ingredients. Your choice of dish is up to you, you can even create your own fusion dishes. Just make sure to do a macronutrient and micronutrient comparison of the original and the one you both recreated, and write a report on how you made it healthier,” she instructs. “I’ve emailed the instructions to all of you, and right now I’ll be flashing the pairings on the screen”.

You fix your eyes on the screen, hoping that you would be paired with Minho. Unfortunately, your anticipation soon fades to dismay as you see the name next to yours: Kim Mingyu. Oh God, why?

“These pairings are final, so I expect all of you to cooperate with your partners to obtain optimum results, and I will not be entertaining any requests to switch partners. I wish all of you all the best!” Your teacher finishes, dashing the last of your hopes to request to be paired up with another person. “You may go look for your partners now, and discuss arrangements to work on the project”.

Begrudgingly, you push in your chair and drag your feet to where Mingyu is. “So, we’re gonna have to work together for our final project, huh,” you huff, making no attempt to hide your displeasure.

“Obviously so. Now, I don’t like this any better than you do, so we’ll just make this as quick and painless as possible, then we can get this over and done with and hopefully never have to work together again. Okay?” Mingyu asserts, looking down at you with the same haughty glare you hated so much.

You narrow your eyes into slits, glaring daggers at him. “Deal”.

“Okay then. Meet me at the subway station after school, we can go to my house to do our research first,” Mingyu instructs, before hurrying off to catch up with Junhui.

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As agreed, you meet him at the subway station to go to his house. "It's only 2 stops away and then a five minute walk, so it won't take long," Mingyu informs you as you both board the train. Not willing to engage in a proper conversation with your enemy just yet, you simply acknowledge with a grunt.

Before you know it, you've reached his apartment block and are already in the lift to his fifth floor flat. Upon entering, the first thing that greets you is the row of medals hanging on the walls, right above the glass cupboard which houses all of his trophies and certificates. Immediately you feel slight bitter feelings rise in you, but you push them down, reminding yourself that you were here to focus on your year end project, and you'd also had your fair share of times when you'd successfully beat Mingyu to attain first place or top scores.

"You can put your bag down, and I’ll get you some water," Mingyu states. Though his tone was flat, you were mildly surprised that your enemy still treated you with basic hospitality. “Sit down at the table and we can start”.

Now, you weren’t expecting working on a project with your nemesis to be a walk in the park, but you weren’t expecting it to be this difficult and unpleasant either. It’s been more than one hour, and both of you are still arguing about which dish to pick.

“Goddammit, just pick something already!” Mingyu finally explodes, sick of the endless back-and-forth that both of you had been engaging in.

“Oh if it’s that easy, why don’t you pick then?” you snap, the last wisp of your patience vanishing as well.

“I don’t know, you keep refuting every one of my suggestions. You got a better idea then?” Mingyu shoots back, eyeing you with a challenging glint in his eye.

“No I don’t, your ideas were simply trash, and you weren’t listening to any of my suggestions either,” you state flatly. “You’re in the debate club, I thought you’d be more logical than this. Don’t waste my time. You’re my fucking rival but I still have to cooperate with you”.

Though you’re enemies with him, you regret your earlier words as a look of clear hurt crosses his features for a split second. Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut, draws in a deep breath, and then slowly lets it out again. “You know what, we’ve spent more than an hour here, but all we’ve done is bicker. Since today’s so unproductive and I don’t think we’ll accomplish anything, you can just pack and leave. We’ll continue another day”.

With that, you pick up your bag and brush past him in a huff.

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“He’s so freaking insufferable! He didn’t agree to anything I suggested and still complained I was the one being picky, ugh. I can’t believe I’m doing my year-end project with him”.

You’re ranting to Minho over breakfast the next day before school starts, the unpleasant project work session with Mingyu still fresh in your mind. “Gosh dammit, I bet I could finish this project alone and get a much better GPA than this guy can. Lucky you, you got paired with Jaehyun”.

Minho patiently listens to your every word as you vent your frustrations to him, before finally offering his advice. “You know, y/n, both of you are in the wrong here”.

Your head snaps towards Minho. “What? You’re my friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Y/n, I’m just being real here. Did you both tell each other what you found lacking in the other’s suggestions, or did you guys just shoot down each others’ suggestions?” Minho asks.

You go quiet for a minute, sipping on your coffee as you reflect on yesterday’s events. “I think the latter”.

“There you have it. It’s understandable if you guys didn’t like each others’ suggestions, but at the very least you guys should say why, and do it in a civilized manner. From what I’m hearing, you said some pretty harsh stuff to Mingyu,” Minho continues, explaining his thoughts on the situation.

“You’re not wrong”.

“And besides,” Minho continues, chewing on his food, “you’ve got to cooperate with him, no matter what. I know he was your rival and you both were competing throughout the year for a better GPA, but here your GPA is at stake. If you don’t cooperate with him, I don’t wanna imagine the drop in your own GPA. You’ve gotta accept that this time you can’t be fighting him. After this project, compete with him all you want, that’s no one’s business. But for now, you’ve gotta put aside your differences and work together, unless you wanna risk repeating year one again”.

You sip on your coffee, quietly reflecting on Minho’s words. “You’re right. I should have chosen my words more carefully before speaking to Mingyu,” you admit, a twinge of embarrassment pricking in your chest as you remember the harsh words both of you exchanged yesterday. “Maybe I do owe him an apology. Thanks, Min”.

Minho nods, happy that he was able to help you know how to move forward from the argument and figure out your next steps. “No problem. You can always catch him after class later to say what you need to. If you’re done, shall we go? I don’t wanna be late”.

“Of course”. With that, both of you clear your table and head off to polytechnic again.

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“Mingyu! Mingyu!”

You call for Mingyu as he’s leaving the lecture hall, a puzzled look on his face when he sees you hurtling towards him at the speed of light calling his name. You’d just fought yesterday, so why were you looking for him now?

“I just wanted to say, I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have thought before I spoke and gave your suggestions more consideration before shutting them down”. You pant out your apology, out of breath from running after him. “Sorry for wasting our time yesterday and speaking thoughtlessly to you”.

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have snapped at you first, I’m in the wrong too,” Mingyu says, reciprocating your apology.

“Apology accepted. Can we get along properly and cooperate with each other from now on, at least until our project is over? I know both of us have been in competition for top grades ever since sec 1, but both our GPAs are on the line here. If we want to do well, we must work together,” you request, reaching out your hand to offer him a true truce this time.

Mingyu’s eyes glaze over with a thoughtful expression as he processes your words. For a moment you worried that he would let his ego get in the way and reject your proposition. “I agree with you. I don’t think any of us want to be retained, so let’s call a truce, at least until this project is over,” he answers, shaking your hand firmly.

“Good. Well then, I guess we can get to work on this project again. Since you offered your house last time round, shall we go to mine today?” you suggest. "It's not that far from here, just a few bus stops away".

"That'd be great. The last time you were over, we squabbled so much, my mum was worried we'd get a noise complaint from the neighbours," he chuckles, and to your surprise you find it in yourself to get out a small laugh in response.

"No more of that this time," you laugh. "Okay, after school today let's meet at the coffee shop nearby, I'd like to get coffee first".

"Okay. See you then!" Mingyu shoots you a small smile and a wave, and walks away.

He’s actually pretty nice when he’s not in his competitive mode, you think to yourself, happy that for once, you were able to talk to Mingyu in a much friendlier manner than usual, with no hateful or malicious undertones.

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Mingyu: y/n

Mingyu: I'll be a bit late, Ms Lim wants to speak to me

Mingyu: sorry about it! you can buy your coffee first

Upon reaching the coffee shop, you open your phone to receive these three notifications from Mingyu, informing you that he wouldn't be able to make it on time.

You: no problem! would you like something too?

You figured you'd try to do something nice for him this time to make up for the last argument you'd both had. Besides, he did offer you a drink when you went to his house the other day, so one good turn deserves another.

Mingyu: yes please, I'll pay you later

You: alright, what would you like?

Five minutes goes by with no reply from Mingyu. Oh well, you'd take your chances with his order. He probably was already speaking to Ms Lim and wouldn't be able to reply to you for a while.

Making your way to the counter, you prepare to place your order. "Hi, can I have…" you tell the barista your order, before hesitating over Mingyu's order. What does he like?

You end up ordering him an iced Americano. Just as you collect your orders, Mingyu comes running in, panting heavily. "Y/n! I'm sorry I'm late".

"No problem. In fact, you seem a bit too excited to work on a project with your rival," you joke, completely missing the way his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.

"I mean, it wouldn't be nice to keep you waiting," he reasons.

"By the way, you didn't tell me what you wanted, so I got you an iced Americano," you inform, passing him the drink.

Mingyu takes the drink from you gratefully and sips on it. "Thanks y/n! How did you know I like this?" he asks, surprise crossing his features.

"I've seen you bring this into the lecture hall so many times, and I may have overheard Junhui joking about your Americano addiction yesterday," you explain, motioning to him to follow you. "Anyway, let's get going".

You both board the bus to your house and settle in the living room to do research. "I think that instead of trying to settle on one dish at once, we can just do our research today and make a list of possible dishes. After we come to a decision, we can get round to thinking of ways to make it healthier and drafting our report. Next we'll make a list of ingredients and possible equipment we'll need, edit our report, and try to find ways to make our practical session as efficient as possible. Sound good to you?” Mingyu fleshes out his plan to you.

You’ve got to give credit where credit is due, it was impressive that Mingyu was able to think up a sensible plan so quickly. “I guess we can do that. I’ll make a google document for us to list down our ideas, and then we can start doing our research”.

With that, both of you get down to doing the research again, listing out possible dishes as you go. “Jeez, there’s so many options. Now I understand why we had such a hard time picking the last time,” Mingyu mutters, scrolling through the document for what seems to be the millionth time.

You’re not having an easier time as well, simply staring blankly at the document on your computer while struggling to come to a conclusion. “Me too. I don’t know how we’re going to pick,” you grumble. At that moment, an idea hits you. “Why don’t we pick a dish that’s seemingly innocent and healthy, but is actually the opposite?”

“I was thinking of that too,” Mingyu agrees, considering all the options again. “In that case, it would probably be chicken rice? I mean, it’s rice, chicken, and cucumbers, which would be healthy in most cases, but in this dish the rice is swimming in chicken fat”.

“You’re right!” you exclaim, smacking your hand on the table in excitement as you swivel your head towards him. “Okay, let’s do chicken rice then. When shall we meet next to do our nutrient analyses?”

Mingyu swipes through his phone, looking at his schedule. “My next available day would be Friday after school, right after our practical session. Would that be okay? We can go to my house this time”.

You nod, approving the suggested date and noting it down in your own phone. “That’s fine by me. Okay, I guess that’s settled. See you on Friday”.

“We’ll be seeing each other tomorrow for class. Did you forget?” Mingyu points out, bursting into laughter at your expression of sudden realisation. “So I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mingyu chuckles, picking up his bag and preparing to leave.

“You’re right. Bye then, see you tomorrow,” you chuckle as Mingyu exits your house, pleasantly surprised at how well both of you were able to get along once you both put all forms of competition aside, and simply treated each other with respect and kindness. You hoped above all else, your future interactions with him would be more like today’s meeting, rather than all the other times that both of you ended up fighting like cat and dog.

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“So…what I’m gathering here is, chicken rice is a great source of protein, but too high in fat, especially saturated fat, and lacking in fiber,” you mumble, looking through the information you and Mingyu had compiled in the google document. “So we should find ways to reduce the fat content and boost the fiber content of this dish”.

“In terms of micronutrients, it’s sorely lacking in vitamins A, C, D, E and K, and has sky-high sodium levels, which we should work to bring down,” Mingyu concludes, looking through the nutrient analysis you’d both done together. “I’m thinking of adding more cucumber slices, which are rich in vitamin B, C and K, as well as some tomato because they’re an excellent source of vitamins A, C, E and K. In addition, we could add in mushroom slices to boost the vitamin D content,” he adds, getting the ball rolling on your discussion by throwing in the first few ideas.

“Those are great ideas!” You give Mingyu a genuine compliment, and add your own ideas as well. “Boosting the fiber content won’t be much of a problem — switching the white rice for brown rice and adding more vegetables as you’ve suggested should do the trick. It will be tricky to get the brown rice to have that nice, fluffy texture, but it should be doable. As for the fat content, most of it comes from the chicken fat that’s used to cook the rice, which is what gives the rice its delicious flavour. So the challenge here is to find a way to find a substitute for the chicken fat so the rice retains its signature flavour,” you muse, hard at work thinking of ways to do as you just said. “What if we steam the rice with chicken stock?”

“The sodium content is a concern, though,” Mingyu points out.

“Many supermarkets offer low-sodium varieties now,” you remind him. “We can always just look for one”.

“Mm, that’s true,” Mingyu grunts, signalling his approval. “Should we just take these ideas for now and begin working on our report? If we have any other ideas we can always add them in later,” he suggests.

With that, both of you get busy, drafting out your report and working on the nutrient analysis for the improved version of the dish together. Though it takes about two hours, both of you eventually get it done as you put your heads together. After that comes the task of compiling a shopping list, which you’d have to send to the professor so that the school could help you buy the ingredients you’d need.

“Brown rice, chicken, chicken stock, cucumber…” you read off the list you’ve both compiled so far. “Anything we missed out?”

“Wait! We forgot to specify that we need a low-sodium type of stock,” Mingyu exclaims, jumping in to correct the minor mistake on the list and scanning through it again. “Okay, this should be it. We can send it to professor Lim now,” he decides, and presses “send” on the email. “Now we can split the work for the actual practical session. It’s actually not that hard to cook — what if we just chop up the vegetables and prepare the seasoning together?”

“Sounds good to me,” you utter. It’s in times like these you’re grateful for Mingyu’s natural leadership skills, it definitely helped both of you get things done in a more organised way.

“Okay then, we’re done for today”.

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

“Alright class, as all of you know, today we’re here to create the dishes you've picked for your year end project in your pairs. You have two and a half hours to complete your dishes. After the time's up, I'll sample your dishes and evaluate them accordingly. Don't forget to submit the final draft of your reports by the end of today".

You're back in the polytechnic kitchen with Mingyu, listening to Ms Lim prattle on about instructions which the whole class already knew about. Nevertheless, you and Mingyu still give her your full attention, worried that you'll miss out on some important instructions. After all, this project would contribute to your final grade for the year – none of you wanted to mess it up.

"Your time starts now, you may begin". Upon hearing that sentence, you and Mingyu spring into action, with you preparing the chicken while Mingyu slices up ginger and grates garlic and shallot. Once the chicken is safely in the pot of boiling water with the seasonings, it's your turn to chop up the vegetables while Mingyu cooks the rice. As you're chopping up the vegetables, the tantalizing aroma of stir-fried ginger wafts into your nose, signalling to you that all was going well.

Or so you think.

Out of the blue, a sharp pain stings your finger, making you cry out in pain. Holding up your finger, you're greeted by the sight of a red patch that's about the size of a five-cent coin. In your carelessness, you'd cut your finger rather badly.

In a flash, you hear the stove go silent, and Mingyu's hands are no longer holding the spatula, but rather cupping your hands gently and examining the cut, expression of fierce concentration having softened into one of concern. "Quick, wash it," he instructs, guiding you to the sink and turning on the tap, letting you wash the cut under the running water. "Ms Lim! May I bring y/n to the nurse? She's cut herself!" he calls out, raising his hand to get the teacher's attention.

"Go ahead, I'll give you both extra time. Y/n, be careful next time". Ms Lim gives you both the green light, and Mingyu hurriedly brings you out of the kitchen and to the general office.

"Oh snap, the nurse isn't in," Mingyu groans under his breath as he passes by the empty sick bay. "Nevermind".

He sits you down on a chair, before rummaging through the cupboard where the nurse kept her supplies and pulling out some cotton balls and a bottle of antiseptic. Pouring out some antiseptic onto a cotton ball, he gently dabs at your wound. "It may sting," he warns.

But you barely feel it. You're more distracted by your surprise at the genuine worry he showed when you'd cut yourself, as well as the sensation of electric sparks coursing through your whole being with every swipe of the cotton ball he made on your finger.

Electric waves continue to flow through you, and your pulse rate quickens the slightest bit as Mingyu maintains his firm grip on your finger while looking through a drawer for a plaster. Unwrapping it, he quickly wraps it around your wound. "All done. Jeez, be careful y/n! That was a nasty cut!" He exclaims, gently running his thumb over the wound, which was now nicely bandaged up.

"I will. T-thanks, Gyu". You mentally slap yourself as you catch the tiny stutter that slipped out of your mouth.

Mingyu raises his eyebrow at you, and his lips curve into a smirk. "Gyu? A week ago we were at each other's throats like there was no tomorrow, and now you're calling me by a nickname that only my close friends use on me?"

Shit.

You definitely did not intend for that to happen.

"What? You got a problem with that?" You reply with the boldest tone you can muster to cover up your flustered state.

Mingyu shrugs as if nothing happened earlier. "Nope. Just surprised. Continue calling me that if you want. Anyway, we should really get going – we've still got a dish to cook," he decides, switching the light off and making his way back to the kitchen with you.

Luckily the rest of the cooking session goes on without a hitch, and you both successfully complete preparing the chicken rice, all within the original amount of time the teacher had given the class. When she began inspecting each pair's work, thick tension was palpable in the air. "I feel like we're on an episode of Hell's Kitchen, with Ms Lim as Gordon Ramsay," you mutter to Mingyu.

Mingyu chortles in response. "That's actually a great comparison".

Both of you are stiff as boards when Ms Lim's shadow falls on your workbench, thanks to the apprehension that is plaguing you both. She scruntinises the food in front of both of you, then picks up the utensils you put beside the plate and proceeds to sample each component of the dish, starting with the rice, the chicken, and finally the vegetables.

With bated breath, you watch as her expression softens into one of approval and begins making notes on her clipboard, and mutters a "good" before heading to the next table. Palpable relief washes over you, and you know Mingyu felt the same way as he lets out the breath he's been holding for God-knows-how-long, and the subtle frown on his face disappears from sight.

Little did you both know, a week later both your relief would become joy as Ms Lim announces that you and Mingyu's project had scored the highest in the class with a distinction, allowing him to maintain his solid 4.0 GPA and raising yours to a 3.9. A few weeks ago you would have given him a glare laced with venomous jealousy, but this time, for a reason you can't quite put your finger on, you're satisfied with your own GPA and finishing second in class – happy for Mingyu even.

"You're not mad or jealous?" Mingyu questions, audible suspicion in his tone after you congratulate him.

"Nope," you answer, popping the "p" as you firmly shake your head. "I mean, now that I think about it, second place isn't that bad. Hey, I still got a decent GPA and can move on to year 2".

"Funny you say this, because I know for a fact that if this happened a week ago you wouldn't have taken this so well". Mingyu points out as you're both leaving the school compounds. "Anyway, congratulations to you too! 3.9 is an amazing GPA as well". He finishes his sentence by offering you a handshake, which you gladly accept while trying to ignore the mild frenzy of butterflies in your stomach.

Outside the school gate, the sight of a shimmering pastel rainbow greets both of you, as if to signal that the animosity and hostility between you and Mingyu had been dissolved and replaced with genuine friendliness and harmony, just like how storm clouds clear to make way for rainbows. Looking up at the rainbow, a happy, warm feeling filled your heart, so much so that you felt like it would spill out of you.

⋆*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

After the project, though you and Mingyu remained friendly with each other, you both didn’t interact much, aside from a few comments on each others’ instagram posts.

Hence why it came as a surprise when Mingyu slid into your instagram DMs with this message one day:

Gyu: hey y/n! would you like to come to my house on the 24th for a Christmas potluck dinner party? it’s for all the fn course students!

y/n: sure! I think i can make it

Gyu: alright that’s great, thank you!

You chuckle as you shut off your phone, thinking back to last year when Mingyu hosted a post-exams party for your whole class. You had also gotten the invite, but because you and Mingyu had such bad blood between both of you, he had refused to personally invite you, opting instead to relay the message to Minho who sent you the details of the party. This was really the first time he’d personally invited you to any class gatherings, a sign that your relationship had improved significantly.

A potluck dinner filled with food and nutrition course students can only mean one thing — every single course will be mouth-wateringly delicious, while not compromising on nutrition. From the air-fryer chicken you’d prepared, to Minho’s greek pasta salad, to Kun’s steamed fish, everything was tasty and healthy — truly a gastronomical heaven.

But the most unique dish of all would’ve been Mingyu’s fortune cookies. They would have been rather ordinary, if not for the fact that he’d infused them with peppermint flavour and stuffed each cookie with Christmas messages he’d handwritten. If there was one thing the whole class was in agreement on, it was that Mingyu’s fortune cookies were the sweetest thing at the party, both taste-wise and thought-wise. You'd already eaten a couple of them and uncovered messages wishing you a Christmas filled with light and love.

"Ha! Slowpoke!" you announce gleefully, gathering up the remaining Halli-Galli cards as Kevin groans.

“Damn, I was hoping to beat her winning streak,” he huffs, though a smile still remains on his face to indicate he wasn’t being a sore loser. “Let’s rematch!” he declares, shuffling the cards again.

“Um actually, I wanted to steal y/n aside for a moment, if that’s alright”. Mingyu’s voice sounds from behind, startling you slightly.

“No problem! You guys go ahead without me,” you answer, excusing yourself from the group and following Mingyu into his kitchen, with their arguments about who will win the next round fading into the background along with the Christmas music.

“I wanted to tell you something, but before I do, please have this,” Mingyu whispers, handing you a fortune cookie. Thanks to the dim light entering from the living hall, you’re able to pick up on the slight tint of pink on his cheeks.

Biting into the cookie, you remove the piece of paper from the inside and unfurl it, squinting as you try to make out the words. y/n, I really like you a lot. This Christmas, would you be mine? ♡

As you read the note, you feel as if the butterflies in your stomach are having their own Christmas party in full swing as well. You look up at Mingyu, mouth slightly agape as you’re still processing the words that he’d written.

“Actually y/n…I’ve liked you since secondary one, when we were in the same class. You were constantly topping the cohort in so many subjects, and you were acing all of the cello competitions you represented the school in. I was in awe of how smart you were, not just academically but musically as well, and I found that so attractive — though I admit I was always slightly envious of you. I thought that I should learn from you if I wanted to pull up my own grades. But when I came to ask you for help with Mathematics homework, I think you were having a bad day, which caused you to lose your cool with me and tell me to figure out the question myself, and I snapped back at you in response. It fuelled my jealousy even further, and I began competing with you all the time, which pretty much kickstarted our long-lasting feud,” Mingyu explains while shifting his weight from foot to foot, the words tumbling out of his mouth so quickly that you could barely make sense of what he was saying. “Even though you’ve been my supposed rival since secondary school, I’ve had a crush on you throughout. But I suppose I felt that there wasn’t any way to fix things between us, since we were constantly at war with each other over grades and shit. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have flung those harsh words at you that day”.

The memory of that first interaction you ever had with Mingyu replays in your head as you try to put yourself in his shoes. If someone you asked for help had lashed out at you for not understanding a question in front of the whole class, you’d be wishing the ground could swallow you. Yes, maybe he shouldn’t have retaliated so fiercely, but you shouldn’t have let your negative feelings take control of you that day as well and just offered him the assistance he needed — maybe then you’d both have had a much more pleasant relationship for the past four years you’d known each other.

“Oh, Gyu, I’m so sorry. I really was having a bad day then, but it wasn’t an excuse to lash out at you when you simply asked me for help with a question. I’m sorry for causing you so much embarrassment back then,” you offer Mingyu a sincere apology. “And I have to admit, I looked up to you a lot as well. You did a great job as the class chairperson, through the ways you maintained order in class, settled class disputes and also brought everyone together. I was also amazed at how you never forgot to check in on everyone from time to time, and how you showed such genuine care for any struggling classmate in any way you could, even if you were bogged down by your own school work. I was slightly jealous of your leadership capabilities and how the teachers found you so trustworthy, but I thought that those qualities made you very attractive”. Taking one of his hands in yours, you continue to speak. “Don’t worry. It’s not too late. I think I’ve always harboured feelings for you, even throughout our time as academic rivals, and those feelings haven’t faded after we began getting along — if anything, they’ve only grown”. You catch the way his eyes crinkle into an adorable eye smile, and you feel your heart rate begin accelerating.

“Really? So…I take that as a yes?” Mingyu asks, gesturing to the slightly crumpled note that’s still in your hand.

“I mean…since we’ve both had feelings for each other for so long, why not?” you reason, a shy giggle escaping your lips. “Of course, we shouldn’t rush into things given the previous tension between us, but we could always see where things go. If we’re both happy, I would really love to be with you”.

Mingyu immediately pulls you into a bear hug, pressing a quick peck to your cheek. “Of course, y/n. I’m so glad you’re willing to give us a chance”.

Both of you remain like this for a few moments, soaking up the warmth of each others’ embrace. You marvel about how one single polytechnic year-end project had not only dissolved the tension between you and your previous rival, but also given you your first taste of love, one so sweet that even Jaehyun’s air fryer peach pies could never come close.

“Noooo! I was hoping they’d kiss!” A whine from Jeonghan suddenly punctuates the air, and you turn your head around in surprise.

“Gosh dammit, you idiot! You ruined their moment!” Minghao scolds, smacking Jeonghan on the head gently.

“Hey hey, be nice now,” Kun chides them both gently, but you see that he’s giving the both of you a happy smile. “Congratulations, y/n and Mingyu”.

“Thank you, Kun,” Mingyu replies, returning the smile. “Wait- why’s the whole class here?”

“Um so…I may or may not have been a bit of a big mouth and told all of them about your plan to confess to y/n”. Junhui blurts out in a tiny voice, but Mingyu picks up on it, and before you know it he’s torn himself out of your hold and is dashing out of the kitchen, to the amusement of all of you.

“WEN JUNHUI I’M GONNA FREAKING DEEP FRY YOU!”

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