Call Me Bunny - MYG

Call Me Bunny - MYG

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Yoongi x Chubby!reader

Genre/AU: Smut, pwp, tutor!yoongi, student!reader, the reader has a thing for being called bunny, yoongi just wants to be a good tutor.

Ratings: 18+

Warnings: Fingering, cum swallowing, sir kink, bunny kink, degrading, praising, dom!yoongi, sub!reader.

Synopsis: You had a thing for your tutor, but seeing as though you're dumber than a box of rocks when it came to your studies, a handsome man distracting you was definitely not what you needed.

masterlist.

Who knew you could get so horny over mathematics?

You gulped as you watched how your attractive tutor was trying to explain and work out the current math problem that you were stuck on. You felt like an idiot, and what made it even worse was that you had expected your tutor to be some ugly old guy, not an attractive, slender man in his twenties. You were sure he wasn't attracted to you, seeing as though you were an overweight nineteen year old that was apparently dumber than a box of rocks.

You observed how his tongue slightly poked out between his lips as he wrote things down. You couldn't help but wonder what that pretty pink thing could do. No! You thought, slightly slapping yourself. He looked up at you because of the small sound that was made when your own hand came in contact with the side of your face. You looked at him sheepishly, "Sorry."

He rolled his eyes, putting the pencil down on your coffee table as you two sat on the ground, your backs against the couch. As much as you would have preferred to be in your room, it wasn't looking the most impressive right now (aka there were snack wrappers and clothes absolutely everywhere), and you didn't want to look like a slob. He huffed out what seemed to be irritation as he asked, "Are you even paying attention to what I'm explaining to you?" You looked away in shame. He clicked his tongue, "I refuse to try and teach you this material if you aren't even going to make an attempt to understand." You hated that you were disappointing him, but it was his fault that you got distracted in the first place!

"I'm sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately. So I haven't really been in a studying mindset, but I'm trying, yoongi. I really am." There was nothing you hated more than failure. It wasn't even restricted to things like relationships, it was also academically as well. You weren't the best when it came to your studies, but your parents refused to give up on you, even if that meant paying a little extra to try and get somebody to come over on their most busiest days of work. You were grateful for all the support, but that also meant if you were to fail, that their efforts would completely go to waste and you would just disappoint them even more.

You felt tears pricking in your eyes as you sniffled a bit. That seemed to sizzle down yoongi's oncoming fury because his hand cupped yours, "Hey, It's okay. I get it, you have a busy life and what not, but if it's affecting you this much then maybe we should take a break. And we could... Talk about it. If you want." You faced him with wide, teary eyes. "I would like that a lot, actually."

You both settled down on the couch, sitting across from each other, your legs leaving to the side since you were were a skirt while he was sitting I in a criss cross shape.

"So, tell me what's bothering you, princess." Ah, there it was.

Yoongi had a habit of calling you pet names whenever he would teach you. Either that being when you get too off track, losing focus, or getting frustrated. For what it's worth, it usually works, especially bunny. Oh lord, the things that name does to you; it made you feel small, soft, safe, and undescribably needy. He's only called you it a total of one time, which made it all the more special to you. He's probably forgotten about that moment, but you held onto it dearly, knowing that you may never hear him say it ever again.

"Well.. um. I just haven't had a lot of motivation." Lie number one. "Motivation? Do I not provide you enough?" That wasn't the case at all. "No! It's not that! I just- I don't know." Your hesitancy was clear to see but he didn't push you to speak about it. "Well do you have any suggestions on how I could potentially help you focus?" You gulped and looked into his eyes. Well here goes nothing.

"A-after I get a question right can you praise me and-... Call me bunny?"

Silence.

Fuck.

You avoided looking up at him, panic now begining to form in your gut. The first person to come to your mind was your mother. She was going to be absolutely heated knowing that her daughter scared her tutor away because she wanted him to call her something as cheesy as bunny.

"Actually- nevermind! Please just forget about it! I'll try harder I promise just please don't quit, I-"

But before you could apologize Yoongi nudged your head up by your chin, trying to get you to look at him. You refused to though, keeping your eyes fixated on something else to the side of you.

"Look at me, ____." You shook your head no, biting your lower lip in embarrassment. He sighed, "I said look at me, bunny." Now that caught your attention. You looked at him with wide, shocked eyes, your nerves becoming jittery because of the look on his face. His eyes were dark, his grip on your chin tightening a little at the sight of the submissive look in your eyes. He could slowly feel his self control slipping away from him.

"Are you sure that me calling you bunny will truly help you focus?" You nodded slightly, "Only if you're comfortable with it." He then smirked, "But there's one thing that you have to do for me if you want me to call you bunny." You gave him a confused look, "And what would that be?" His hand cupped your cheek, bringing your face close to his, "You have to call me sir." Your face flushed. Gulping loudly you nodded, "Yes, sir." Yoongi had to stop himself from groaning at the sound of you saying it. You looked so adorable trying his newfound title out by mumbling all sorts of different scenarios under your breath.

You both slid down to the ground once more, resuming your earlier position. You had no idea that this was how tonight was going to play out, but you'd be lying if you said that you didn't like it. You would have never imagined that Yoongi was into such things as being called sir, but the more you thought about it, the more it began to make sense.

He had given you various math problems to try, and just like you had thought, the nickname helped spur you on. You wanted to hear that one word come out of his mouth so badly that you'd rather sit here on the ground for hours just trying to figure one of these godforsaken things out. Instead of yoongi scrolling on his phone or hovering over you to see if you're doing it right, he had his hand settled on the part of your thigh that wasn't covered by your skirt, rubbing it gently. You knew that if you had asked him to stop he would, but that's the funny thing about this whole thing, you didn't want him to. If anything, you wanted his hand to go a little bit higher.

You began to feel all hot and bothered at the thought of Yoongi fingering you in the middle of your living room. You couldn't stop yourself from slipping in a sort of submissive head space. You looked over at him with glassy eyes.

"Sir.." You whined. He looked over at you with a cocked eyebrow. "Please.." You requested. You had no idea what you were asking him to do, but you knew it had nothing to do about the math practice. He seemed to catch on but didn't make a move, only condescendingly asking, "What is it that you want, bun?" You then grabbed his hand from your thigh and held it in front of your face, looking at him straight in the eye before enveloping one of his fingers with your mouth. You suckled on it as you held his wrist. He groaned at the feeling of your tongue tracing one of his rings that he had on. He couldn't help but press the pad of it down on your tongue, his cock jumping in interest at the sight of you slightly choking.

You can say that he was a bit of a sadist.

He took the initiative to take the digit out of your mouth and put into his, tasting you. He growled as he forcfully grabbed you, pulling you onto your knees to help you straddle his lap. His eyes flickered from your lips and back up to you, as if he was silently asking for permission. You nodded without a second thought. He didn't hesitate to quickly take control of the situation, his lips locking yours into a heated kiss. His tongue plunged itself inside of your mouth, not even caring about the loud whimpers the followed along with his every movement. His hands slipped down to hike up your skirt, his hands gripping the naked part of your ass, his movements slightly stuttering at his unexpected discovery.

You were wearing a thong.

"You naughty little thing. Wearing a thong and a skirt at the same time I see? What a whore, you wore it even though you knew that you were going to be left home alone with a man. But then again.. this is what you wanted, right?" He teased.

You shivered at his dangerous tone. You then felt a stinging sensation spread throughout your left ass cheek, a rough hand then soothing it, "I asked you a question, bun." You whined pathetically, "Yes," You gasped as his hand hit you once more, "Mm~ I'd wear these every time you'd come over, even in my pajamas. I wanted you so bad. I liked you so much." You didn't even him time to dwell on the last part before pulling him into another hungry kiss.

Both of his hands practically ripped your skirt down your legs, his left hand moving down to cup your sex through your panties that barely left anything to the imagination, while the right one continued to massage your ass. You gripped his shoulders tight, your head falling back as you desperately grinded down on his rough hand. You were chasing friction that he was refusing to give you. What a fucking tease.

"Sir please.. touch me. Do anything."

He peered up at you, "Anything?" You stuttered when his fingers moved the lace to the side, rubbing your slit teasingly. He massaged your clit, the long awaited pressure caused an overwhelming feeling of pleasure to shake your body like a rattle. You cried out, your hips buckling as they tingled sensitivitely. He leaned forward his right hand coming to shove up your shirt so that it was pushed up to your neck. You immediately tugged the bothersome thing off as well as your bra. He hummed gratefully at your efforts to be a good girl for him, his lips going to suck on the stretch marks that decorated the tops of your breasts.

Yoongi would never understand how much that one simple thing meant to you. You moaned airly at the barely there sensation, but you were grateful nonetheless. His fingers then teased your opening before sliding one finger in, a loud squelch following with it. You bit your lip, noise clogging in your throat as his motions were fast, violent, and making you almost tip over the edge not even a couple of minutes in. Your body jerked everytime his finger hit your g-spot, a second one quickly joining in on the mix.

"Sir.. m' gonna cum." You gasped, your nails digging into his white button up." He looked up at you, an unforgiving smirk on his face, "But we've barely done anything." He said as he fake pouted, "Can sir play for just a little bit longer, please bunny?" Of course he was using your name against you. That's one thing that you were quick to catch onto, he loved to tease.

"O-okay.." You mumbled.

He continued to play with you, your request seemingly spurring him on. His pace was making you feel like you were going to explode. Tiny gasps and moans left you as you clenched down onto his two digits in a pathetic attempt to try and keep yourself together, just to let him have his fun a little bit longer.

It's when you began to tremble he took mercy on you, his lips locking onto the side of your neck to suck a deep, dark purple spot. Your legs felt like jelly, your grip on him becoming weaker as you felt your self control slowly collapse.

"Cum, bunny."

That's all it took for you to let go, an exaggerated whine leaving your mouth as you rode out your high, the heel of Yoongi's palm adding more stimulation as it rubbed against your clit. His moves were quick and smooth, like he knows what he's doing. You then settled down, Yoongi taking his fingers from out of you and holding them in front of you, the feeling of your release being forced against your lips.

You shyly took them into your mouth, your face flushing at the fact that your tutor was watching you swallow your own cum.

"So.. was that enough motivation for you, bunny?"

7-second interview with joon but it’s just him smiling 

#12.5 Jungkook and the Meaning of “Oh”

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

▶ type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly)

▶ word count: 5.0k

▶ series’ masterlist

▶ other works

▶ a/n: Looks at pictures of fetus Jungkook *does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes* This will have themes of coming to terms with one's sexuality and a cliffhanger. No fancy picture headers because only 10 photos allowed per post :(

Too many hours to count until move-in (but 2014)

“Weather forecasters warn of a thunderstorm descending upon Seoul and urge citizens to remain home and avoid travelling if possible.”

Jungkook grit his teeth harder and resisted the wind that was trying to propel him across the country, putting all of his 17-year-old body mass against the raging storm. The road was not easy but he had decided to see it through. There was no one around. No one with sanity would venture into such conditions but Jungkook was not just anyone. He had someone’s else's heart in his chest and he had to know why.

When he reaches Daehangno, it’s late in the evening and the wind is accompanied by pelting rain and thunderstorm that cracks right above his head.

He finds the small, neon sign of an eye enclosed in a circle and he punts his entire soul on those doors.

“Just, please, explain to me, please!”

The woman who opens them is greying, wrinkled as a blooming rose but there are many decades behind her eyes, Jungkook even thinks maybe centuries.

He bows, because he’s a polite boy, and spitting out rainwater, he yells over the thunder.

“Please, tell me, I’m not crazy.”

The old woman looks down on him, without pity even though Jungkook looks like a drowned rat, but she recognized him. Even if they never met before, she knows who he is.

“Get in, before you drown,” she puffs and without much objection he scurries in, shaking off his soaked back with books too heavy and too wet to be used, by now. He had run straight from school to Big Hit then to here.

The old lady prepares him a bitter tea, which he gulps down, chasing warmth and sensation in his frozen fingers. He doesn’t know how to say what needs to be said, so he voices his main point of worry.

“This is not my heart,” he points at his chest. It’s thundering again, it causes him pain and he wants it to stop. “Am I correct?”

Her dark eyes glisten in the candlelight of the small shop as rumble rips at the window panes.

“You figured it out, fairly early.”

Jungkook winced after a particularly hard tug. His heart was breaking and he felt so horribly alone.

“Please,” he begged the old lady and something in her demeanour changed, turned more lenient at the sight of his pleas.

She pulled out a stethoscope of all things and wiped black coal on his forehead. He sat obediently, not daring to breathe as she listened to his heart. When she was done, a tired sigh escaped her lips.

“Drink more of this. It should help for a little while,” she mutters more to herself, pushing another cup of the chamomile tea in his direction. He drinks it once more with fervour even though it tastes like a thing rotten. Taking a short gasp, he sits on the chair.

“I’m not losing my mind, right. I’ve got soulmates, right. Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Tae, Jimin and me. We’re…we’re connected, I’m right, am I? Please, tell me I’m right.”

He felt like some sort of freak thinking this but he couldn’t shake it off. He has no idea where the belief came from but it was rooted within him so deep, he couldn’t rid himself of it.

The old woman swirled her own tea around the cup with a disinterested expression.

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know how I know! I just…I just need to hear that it’s right and I’m not some sort of sick person for thinking it.”

“You’re not sick, Jeon Jungkook. Though you’re much more open-minded more than your friends.”

The world collapsed on his shoulders.

Oh.

“They…they know?”

She hummed in retaliation, grimacing sourly.

“They laughed at me for saying it. Can you imagine being laughed at by kids who haven’t lived even the eighth that you have?”

He sags further down.

“I presume it was annoying,” he mumbles appeasingly.

“It’s infuriating!” the woman interrupts, slamming her hand down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jungkook curls up on the sofa, fireplace crackling in front of him, chamomile tea in hand. He was sitting in quiet, though he often did not prefer it. Quiet was thinking, thinking was getting lost and getting lost meant being overwhelmed. His worst fear was being overwhelmed, trumping his fear of failure. Failure could be avenged, but being overwhelmed meant drowning underneath a vast wave of helplessness and when he was helpless he couldn’t protect what he needed to. He took a sip and winced at the taste, nevertheless, relaxing in the washing calm of his heart rate slowing down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, closer,” the old woman beckoned at him and, dubiously peering at her, Jungkook did shuffle closer. In front of him, there was a plate, a clay slab. Undecorated, coarse, it didn’t look more than a child’s cursory attempt at pottery. It stood on the table in front of the woman under which she was rifling through a brown bag. Sounds of clinking glassware travelled from her searching.

“Ah, there it is,” she breathed out in victory a few moments after.

The thunder was nearly ripping the windows from their place but in the small, overcrowded space no one seemed to care.

In her hands, there was a slender, glass bottle, filled to the brim with what appeared colourless substance, though Jungkook could swear that in the faint yellow lightning of the overhanging lamp it had a faint nacreous glow.

Underneath Jungkook’s widened eyes, she proceeded to pour the liquid onto the slab but instead of merely wetting the object, it began to divulge into eight different paths, twinkling so bright they cast water-like reflection upon his rain-soaked face.

Oh!

“Is this…is this magic?” he gasped and the old woman sized him with an impassive glance.

“It’s whatever you want it to be or whatever you’ll remember it in the future.”

Instinctively he knew that there was a reason for why there were eight paths. They began separately and then one by one merged together, creating a glimmering river from the small, independent brooks. He smiled at it as though he was witnessing the birth of something splendid.

“This is what a soulmate is?” he asked her, voice shaking but joyous. His cheeks were sore from the width of his grin but he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t quite understand what he was seeing.

“This is what fate is, Jeon Jungkook,” she replied, though her voice didn’t just hold as much happiness as Jungkook did, it held none at all. She seemed almost grimly resolute.

Suddenly one of the streams broke away from the liquid, travelling to the far edge of the table, twinkling away like a flickering candle for a short while before disappearing. Then another one broke off and was extinguished just as fast, then another one and another, and another, some going to the farsides of their allowed space, some clinging near but in the end, they all extinguished and what remained in their wake was a small singular stream, pounding weakly as it moved forward and then ultimately stopped rolling and there was no light left to see.

“No, no, no! Bring them back!” he demanded, feeling very frightful of the emptied tablet but the woman corked the bottle shut and stuffed it back into the bag.

“I can’t bring them back. This is what you decided,” she proceeded to sit down, groaning from the tired ache of standing up for too long.

Jungkook’s eyes began to feel entirely too wet.

“I didn’t decide! I didn’t get to decide! Explain what you showed me!”

His mother would slap him for yelling at an elder like that. His eyes shone with trepidation but at this point he was years away from being a walking powerhouse and standing here, trying not to cry and quivering from cold, he didn’t inspire much fear. Least of all in himself.

“I just told you, it’s fate. I informed your friends of what they should do and they rejected it and now fate is taking a different turn.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Because they rejected this,” he thumped the flat of his hand against his chest, not knowing whether it meant the rejection of the unified path or the eighth one, “this is what’s going to happen?”

“Yep. Fate is not as absolute as one thinks. People have free will to flourish or destroy it and you’ve chosen to destroy it.”

“But I didn’t choose anything!” he opposed starting off strong and decided, like a proud lion cub but somewhere in the middle, he began to grasp the injustice of it all and that reduced him to sobs.

“Are you actually crying?” she asked him dryly and Jungkook, sniffling and hiccuping, obstinately insisted that no. He immediately of course began to cry harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s six in the evening and the radiators sprinkled throughout the apartment have started to heat up the air for the night but Jungkook is still thinking. He’s preparing scenarios for what to say when you walk through the doors but there’s nothing that seems to fit. Empty sentiments and reassurances, apologies that you would not believe in. He didn’t fault you for not believing, had he not seen what he’d seen, he would discard everything too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Too many hours to count but still one hour closer to move in (still 2014)

It takes several long minutes of Jungkook wiping the snot away with the sleeve of his school uniform. He marginally regrets pressuring his manager to divulge where the guys had gone to last year that made them act so strange.

“But I still have this? It must mean something,” he mumbled weakly and the woman poured him the third cup of tea. It smelt just as acrid as the first but in his blooming misery, he couldn’t comprehend objecting against the old lady.

“It means you’re an empath,” she tapped one of her heavy ringed fingers against the table, relaxing deeper into the plush seat. “ You have a gift and you’ve given your heart across the ocean. The only thing it means is that you offer your love too freely.”

“Stop saying that,” he wheezes, clawing at his reddened eyes. His head was beginning to throb and it was difficult to breathe as mucus travelled down his throat with every gulp.

“No, I’m serious! Contrary to popular belief, love does not conquer all. It lives and dies as time wills it. If love could conquer all why do you think tragedy exists,” she said, in a low, tempered voice, “why do you think grief haunts the living? Love is not a weapon we can shield against suffering, it eases the pain of our existence but it can not absolve us from it.”

Jungkook listened to her carefully, deep weariness settling on his shoulders.

“So what? That’s it?! We’re doomed to be alone because of one mistake? One mistake that I didn’t take part in?!”

“I didn’t say fate had to be fair.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He thinks he’s falling asleep, the walls are tinted with a coat of confusing fog as he lets his neck rest on the plush armguard. He must be falling asleep because there’s a rattle on the door and the faint draft of the hallway between all of the apartments is stretching a scent of your perfume towards his nose.

Oh.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2+ hours closer to move-in (2014 and onward)

“I’ll protect them,” Jungkook states with broad finality when the storm quiets and it’s safe for him to venture outside, as such he’s no longer welcome in the old woman’s shop. He pins her down with his trademark doggedness, it only increasing when she gives a wry, patronizing smirk.

“How old are you, kid? 15? 16?”

“I’m 17,” he pushes through gritted teeth, walking out the door, still hesitating because he’s yet to prove a point.

“You said people have free will, they can choose to destroy their lives or flourish them. I choose to fix it then! I will use this gift for good.”

“Gifts can be useless. Have you never received too many socks for Christmas?"

He, in fact, hadn't and it shows on his face. The woman pushes further with the same derision.

"You against fate? Good luck with that.”

“Just you see,” he vows and leaves the unwelcome door space.

“Above cups and hearts and vases made of glass, the one most often broken is a promise.”

Jungkook remembers reading it. Or more accurately, Namjoon was reading it and the phrase stood out to Jungkook when he ripped the book away from their leader’s hands to whine about how he needed a sparring partner.

A promise was a nice word for the obsession that Jungkook grew ill with - the mindless desire to protect.

He had it ever since he’d been smacked on the ass, fresh out of his mother. It didn’t make much sense and over time they regarded it as just his thing - an innate characteristic that was just there. A Jungkook for a Jungkook if that made any sense.

His father at times teased him for being a bit doglike, all in good nature and Jungkook never took offence to it. He liked dogs. Dogs guarded, dogs were reliable, dogs could take joy in simple things that people more often than not forgot to do.

For Jungkook fear and drive were so intrinsically connected they couldn’t be parted. His fear of losing a toy, a friend, a soulmate walked hand in hand with his desire to protect it or rather them. So naturally, naturally for him mind you, he beefed up. It was a little thing but it was a start. If he could protect them physically from harm, he’d wander upon the path of how to protect them emotionally. Right?

….or wrong. Because his soulmates were absolute tools.

Jungkook loved and adored them with all his heart but they had to be a group of the densest people on the planet. He never abandoned them or broke his promise but they made it so difficult. When he asked of what they’d seen or heard in their time in Daehangno that made them act like they conspired to carry a ticking bomb for all remaining time, they shook their head and alternated between their favourite answers - “it’s nothing” and “you’re too young”. Young, he was but he was not stupid. And if Jungkook smacked them a bit too hard on the shoulder or put them in a chokehold for a second too long, it was but a small, temporary relief of the frustration he felt.

Protecting them meant that he had to be strong, no matter what, he would be their guard, their wall and their fortress. As he grew older and the mass of challenges increased, he, with only added frustration, understood that their strong wall not always was needed in physical form. There was strength in comfort, in allowing them to lie that the affection was because “he was the youngest”.

“You’re the youngest that’s why I’m giving and receiving flowers with such grace.”

“You’re the youngest that’s why I’m kissing you on the forehead and allowing you to do the same”.

There was strength in him staying with Yoongi, quietly sitting by as he worked through a piece that was troubling for weeks, there was strength in knowing how to pacify Jimin’s tears when he wound himself up so tight it felt like he had a noose around his neck, strength in cheering up Hoseok, in playfully bullying Jin to distract him, in supporting Namjoon and never letting him forget the kindness that poured out of him, in hugging Taehyung in the open, uncaring of what people thought.

It was strength and obstinance and bravery to be Jeon Jungkook and to continue being him every day. For him bravery was like a muscle he could exercise and he did so often. He got tattoos without permission, he cut his own hair, he did what he wanted even if it meant to rebel against soulmate’s wishes. It signified getting himself up, sometimes getting picked up after he stumbled and fell. Love, in the end, was bravery. To love was as scary as it was to be loved back. But he did it.

His memories grew fainter and voices grew muddier but he knows what he saw that stormy day. He knows the future they will hold if he’s not brave. Occasionally, the realization that he was the only one who knew of what their choice did to their futures burdened him so much he ended up screaming in the bathroom stall but as sure as the next sunrise would be, he wiped the tears off, washed his face and set back to work, diligent, stubborn and unswayed. He will do the impossible to save them from an unfair fate.

It’s all worth it though. The moments spent laughing, feeling safe and content win over the turmoil of worry and fear. He remembers the bright pool of the joined light. In the face of it, this was but a short detour, a small climb up the mountain to see the sun’s warming cheek.

“Oh, god, it smells so vile,” Jin cried as he took a whiff of Jungkook’s chamomile tea. It’s nighttime and they were still filming. This day was a hard one, not for him, but for the Other. They don't say it who it was, the eighth one, so he calls them "The Other". He’d been feeling his heart race for almost twenty hours now and it didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. The Other was having a very, very rough day. If only he could protect them, however, he's marooned for now with these six beloved assholes.

“It helps,” he grumbles back, not answering Jin’s follow up question about “for what”. It was perhaps a little bit petty that he never told them what he saw. Though in fairness they never told him about the Other, the holder of his heart as well. It was an eye for an eye sort of thing.

It takes four years for Taehyung to speak of the Other - Her. Lady in red and in a brilliant moment of clarity, lying in Tae's arms, Jungkook grasps everything.

They were incredibly fussy about wearing red, always insisting that maybe there were other choices. Anything but red. Yet when it came to songs, red was everywhere. Whenever anyone asked of where the inspiration came from, to write so acutely about longing and rejection and pining, they could only shrug their shoulders and try to somehow humbly present they were just genius’ of the human heart. A lie, of course, a preposterous lie. Jungkook who’d been watching them skirt around affections and longing with feeble excuses could attest that they were anything but genius'. Whatever the lie might be, the truth remained the same - they longed for a ghost. For a promise that was not yet made and one that Jungkook knew would never live up to the name if they didn’t act.

He and Taehyung are the first to kiss in front of their eyes and while stunted, it wasn’t like they objected. Jimin is next to fall, casting away his fears, maturing and realizing that love wasn’t a far stretched theory or dream in the future, it was right here, he only had to reach out.

“Jungkook?” Hoseok asked as they walked together in Malta, observing the beige stones and starry skies.

“Hmm?”

“You ever thought about, you know, being gay?”

The question is not unfounded but it is surprising to hear it from Hoseok’s mouth. He’s looking away, not knowing how to delicately phrase the matter but Jungkook doesn’t mind.

“I thought about it.”

“And?”

“I don’t care.”

Hoseok stops walking and Jungkook halts a few steps ahead of him.

“You don’t care?” he echoes, incredulously.

Jungkook takes a moment to think and when that moment passes, he gives a soft smile.

“I know for many people it’s important but, for me, I don’t see why I have to justify myself to others,” he ends with a shrug. “Regardless of who I like, I’m Jungkook and no one should care about anything more than that.”

Hoseok examines the pavement, expression forlorn as he bites in his lip.

“You’re very brave aren’t you, Kookie,” he at last whispers.

Jungkook’s grin turns teasing.

“Well, someone has to be."

Hoseok smiles but it’s without mirth.

Oh.

Jungkook can’t help but feel that maybe, in spite of all his guarding, he just said the wrong thing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Right. The irrevocable part of humans is that you mess up. Be it an interview, a conversation, your entire fate, you mess it up, but you can fix it.

Fix it, is the instinct Jungkook has when he rouses from the haze and realizes that the door rattle is not a dream. You’re home.

You’re home and his heart is glad. Ever since he moved here, his chest stops hurting. He has a theory that he felt you and not everyone else is because they were near, yet you were far. It’s like his heart kept vigil through means beyond the logic, remaining attentive even across the seas.

He gets up, adjusts his sweatpants and shirt, (he began to wear them because winter promises to be absolutely brutal here, though he still leaves three buttons open) walking calmly towards the doors. Again a bit dog-like but he doesn’t take insult.

You’re one step in and he greets you, lowly but kindly. Your face… he remembers the feeling of not being able to breathe. Your face is haunted and above else he wants to hug you, to push all your problems away, to save you but he keeps Gwenell’s advice etched in his brain. He’s not a ram, in this case, he was the woman with the crown, gently stroking the lion until it melted in his touch. He’ll be gentle, he’ll soothe your pain away, bit by bit, day by day. No matter how much you needed his love, which he was not blind to see, you needed love so plainly, you also deserved respect. So he stays away, even if his hands itch and he breaks at the crestfallen sight that's visible in your eyes. He stays away because some healing can only be done in solitude.

“Hey,” you greet him, trying to appear casual but your voice is rough. You’ve been crying and you’ve been worrying. He recalls the twinkling light, breaking away from them and then disappearing mutely into darkness until it was no more. He’ll fix this, don’t you worry, he’ll be your miracle when you let him.

“Hey. Let me take that,” he gently pries the luggage away from your hands and pulls the red suitcase into the living room. This must be the same one the guys saw that night they met and let you go. He’d only heard stories and vague lyrics about this thing. To hold it in his hands was to hold a symbol of you and he can’t help but beam softly despite the fact that he couldn’t hold you yet. Your symbols, for now, would suffice. Jungkook was greedy but he was not ungrateful.

“Did the conference go well?” he asks, turning around as you unhook the shawl from your neck. Your gaze is flitting around the room, spotting only the fireplace and nothing more.

“It was…” you trail off, unsurprisingly not giving an answer. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head. “Jin has class and they is... are still at work.”

“I see,” you drawl awkwardly. You give Jungkook a curious glance, examining him like he had changed his hair.

“Is something wrong?” he asks gently, sitting down on the sofa, hoping you’d sit next to him.

You don’t.

“You look different?” you question, a frown of worry creasing your forehead.

You, however, looked just like that day.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

13 hours until move-in

Oh! Oh! Here you are!

Jungkook feels like a seeker who's found the most diligent of players in Hide and Seek.

He doesn’t know you. But you must be the one, the holder of his heart, his Other. He feels as though he’ll throw up from nerves but at long last, his heart calms without the help of tea. He can’t feel you anymore but he can see you. You’re holding your phone and you’re frowning at it. Instantly, Jungkook wants to know what you’re reading, what’s making you so upset. You should never feel upset.

The guys are still sleeping back in the hotel. They haven’t slept on a bed for so long, everyone passed out like the dead once hitting the pillow but Jungkook couldn’t stop this fluttering in his chest. It’s like his every nerve was rhythmically going Oh! Oh! Oh! so he wandered out for some calming beverage.

This has to be fate. Or if not, then it was his doing. His gift was not useless. He rips open the doors to the cafe and is hit with the smell of pastries and coffee. He’s hungry but he doesn’t register it because Oh! Oh! Oh! You’re here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes, you’re here and Jungkook doesn’t know what to say.

“I just…had a…realization,” he explains and you leave him at that.

He looks you over and steps one daunting, but a brave step forward. Love is about bravery. Bravery, strength and obstinance. The Jungkook.

“What happened with Hoseok…”

“Is I think none of your business,” you bite back, defensively.

He nods along and lets the scorn pass over his head. It’s in the lion’s nature to roar and bite people, he knows that now.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

12 hours 57 minutes until move-in.

He can’t hear what the cashier is saying, he’s just saying yes. She offers him food and he keeps saying yes, not averting his eyes away from you. He can say hi, can’t he? Okay, so he smells and his hair’s a bit dirty and his clothes are a bit rumpled. You try living on the road for seven months and not be a little bumped over. But you shouldn’t mind. You don’t look like the sort of person who would.

He as subtly as possible leans in to smell himself and gives a quick glance around for any pharmacy or anywhere they would sell deodorant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s none of my business, but he’s very sorry for hurting you,” Jungkook gently continues and you shrug but your eyes say it all. You’re like him in that aspect, your eyes told or maybe he knew because your heart was sometimes in his chest. As gruesome as it sounded, he knew you intimately.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

12 hours 55 minutes until move-in

You’re getting up. You’re walking. Oh, oh, oh! You’re walking away. You mustn’t walk away! You can’t! They just found you, he just found you! What if you’d glimmer out at this very moment?!

His mouth keeps saying yes. The sum for his absentmindedness begins to soar in triple numbers but he pays it no attention. You’re leaving and he’s stammering by the counter like a dog on a leash. Say something, just say anything. Hi! You know how to say hi!

He can only gape and smell in your perfume when you walk past him. He even thinks that you give him a glance, a frowning glare as to why he was just standing here, smelling air like a weirdo.

Oh! Oh.

Oh…

You’re gone.

He smacks down into the hotel room, knees bending underneath the bags of takeout. It’s more than enough to feed fifty people.

Give them three hours and they’ll be done.

“I FOUND HER!” he yells, rousing them awake from the dead.

Namjoon lifts his dishevelled head from the crook of Yoongi's elbow, barely making out the shivering form of their youngest.

“What d’you mean…” he mumbles incoherently and Jungkook drops down the mountain of bags upon Jin’s sleeping figure, effectively burying him.

“I FOUND HER!” he repeats, capturing Namjoon’s cheeks in his palms.

His face is so close he can only make out the small spots of lighter brown in his irises. Years ago he would have wrenched away but for Jungkook’s sanity, Namjoon has resigned to their fate and Jungkook likes to think their stream was growing brighter by the day.

“I FOUND HER!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes, he’d found you. Against all odds, he’d found you and he’d make sure you didn’t twinkle out all alone. You’d be behind his wall, his fortress, his guard.

So he’s brave and he takes in a breath, to pop the bubble, the ballon, the truth that they hid.

“Hey, _________, what do you think of soulm-”

Ringing.

He grits his teeth, jaw clamping shut.

Did your phone really have to ring, right now? Was his life a bad TV show?!

It’s still ringing and you’re looking at it with…softness? You didn’t look upon anyone calling you like that? You hated phone calls. You made so sure that they only ever texted you.

Jungkook sees greedy racoons, with their greedy paws taking away his precious pentacle.

You answer the phone, giving Jungkook a peculiar glance when you notice his fists clench. He doesn’t want to frighten you so he lets them loose.

Gentle. Patient. Not aggressive.

You’re Jungkook, not a ram, he reminds himself.

“Hey. Did you land?” you speak.

Land? Someone was flying over? From where? From New York? Did you meet an acquaintance in New York?

Jungkook discreetly inches forward, pretending that he’s not at all listening in. He can’t hear anything though, the volume of your phone is too low for him to make sense of the person on the other line.

“Yes, tomorrow, at 10. I sent an e-mail so they should know you’re coming.”

Who? Who was coming?

You huff but it’s not annoyed. Your behaviour is not making any sense.

What happened? Why hadn't you been able to breathe? Why did you feel empty? Who was talking on the other side? Who had the attention of the holder of his heart?

“Okay, I got it. Yes. Okay. Bye, Jae.”

Oh.

previous ⟷ next

a/n: Either you love it or hate it, I'm *runs away*

Mr. President ✎ Kim Namjoon

✎ Summary: There’s just something about Kim Namjoon. Kim Namjoon whose name is always being passed around by the girls on campus as if he was a creature sent from the heavens. Kim Namjoon who is always mentioned as a picture student by the teachers no matter the class. Kim Namjoon, the man that is the bane of your existence with his perfect face and his perfect grades, always placing you second on everything. Kim Namjoon, the man that gets your panties in a twist in more ways than one.

✎ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

✎ Genres/AU/Rating: 18+, College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Humor

✎ Warnings: good old voyeurism, angry sex, masturbating, protected sex (that’s a new one) lots and lots of kithes, not a warning just a tag: Jimin is queer, microaggressions in terms of misogyny by teachers, YN just wants to be heard!

✎ WC: 6.7k

✎ A/N: I swear this was waaaaay overdue, but I really liked how it turned out, so hopefully you’ll do too! Check out the College Enemies 101 Project to see what everyone is going to bring to you this assignment. THIS FIC HAS MADE ME CRY, IT’S MY BAY AND I WILL CHERRISH HER FOREVER IT WAS REALLY JUST AN EXCUSE TO WRITE A FEMINIST OC WITH SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND KIM NAMJOON LENDING HER A PLATFORM I NEED ONE OF THOSE PLEASE

✎Taglist: @fuck-expectations-people @theestrangeddreamer @btstrasht

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

“Well, Y/N we have to say, the board is astonished by your entrance exam and curriculum and we’d just like to say” The lady cladded in a navy blue suit and a polite smile on her face reaches to her side to grab a folder and pass it on to you “We will be over the moon to see you here during the fall semester.

Entering such a renowned university was sure a feat on its own, hours upon hours of studying in no way that the rest of your classmates had done in high school, which indeed somewhat got you outcasted, but at least you got to secure your place in Seoul National University and were sure that you wouldn’t have to see any of them ever again. Perhaps it was more wishful thinking.

The first time you knew about Kim Namjoon– well, not really, cause Kim Namjoon had attended the same high school as you, but he was more about keeping to himself, a scrawny figure with glasses on his face and velcro shoes sitting in the back– was exactly one week before you were supposed to go to college, boxes upon boxes decorating your parents’ house, awaiting for your leave when you had received that phone call.

“Is this Y/N?”

“Yeah she’s speaking”

“Y/N! I’m calling from SNU, unfortunately, we’ll have to put your entry on hold, there’s been an acceptance of another student with a higher CSAT than yours”

You had felt your mind go blank, 13 hours per day studying were meant to guarantee you the highest score in the batch. You had made sure of it. Your results had come back with a 99/100 on them, if someone had indeed scored higher than you, it would mean they had a perfect score. A 100/100.

“Wh-who is it?”

“Uh…” there’s some rustling on the other side of the line, papers moving around “Kim Namjoon”

So really, the man had left an impression, you had every right to consider that a first introduction, not only had he scored higher than you, taking over a spotlight you had never seen him in, but it would mean your plans of never seeing anyone from high school again would go up a notch and you’d have to not only see someone from high school, but you’d have to see Kim Namjoon, the one that scored higher than you on the CSAT, the one with the perfect score in what was considered the most difficult exam of all, the one that had put your college entry on hold.

And it was as if fate had been sealed from then on, having the time of her life watching you suffer. One would come to think, it’s such a huge campus, what are the odds of even crossing paths with Kim Namjoon ever again. Wrong. It was as if every single place had it’s own version of Kim Namjoon on them just out of spite, to make your blood boil. Surely, it could only be a childish rage that would have to had disappeared when your acceptance went through, Kim Namjoon or not, your own hard work had gotten you there. It would have been amazing not to be put on hold tho.

At first, you would cross it out as mere coincidence, having to watch Kim Namjoon being elected first-year representative on campus, having to hear “Ayee Namjoon!” every single time you were studying outside the buildings while you were trying to study, the tension from that phone call where you had first been aware of his existence coming back as time went by.

“Y/N you know you should ask Kim Namjoon for tutoring, he isn’t even in this major but he chose this elective last semester. Best student I’ve ever had” yes. sure. being tutored by Kim Namjoon. Is there something the man isn’t rumoured to do?

“Ah… that book was last checked out by such a sweet young man, Namjoon, he even brought me tea when he dropped it back” Ah, yes… what a godsend he is, that Kim Namjoon

“And the winner is… Kim Namjoon!” what. Kim motherfucking Namjoon had presented the same research topic as you, same approach, even more enraging, you had been one fucking point under his perfect score.

You huffed as your bag thumps against the table, your head soon following on top of it in an attempt not to scream. You hear a laugh coming from somewhere near you “Kim Namjoon fever, am I right?”

“I gotta admit, I see where they come from, I’ve seen him workout” there’s a wolf whistle followed by a scoff and you can’t hold your groan any longer as you look up to see the unfortunate people whose lunch you had crashed after yet another class where Kim Namjoon had been granted a gold star. He wasn’t even enrolled in it, to begin with.

“You have to excuse Jungkookie here, he’s got a boy crush on him” the long-haired brunette seems scandalised at his friend’s words, deer eyes opening up without a word as the blond one chuckles at him “I’m Park Jimin, and I’m guessing you’re… Y/N?”

You groan once again before dropping your head on the table “Is my disgrace really that popular?”

“We call it the Y/N curse in the first year” great. Absolutely terrific, so yeah, perhaps you had known it wasn’t really only inside your head, Kim Namjoon and his damned publicly success, couldn’t have noticed by now that every single time he wins the first place, it leaves an open tab for everyone to see who exactly was almost but not quite there in the second place. Y/N had always been the name on that spot. The second best. The almost but couldn’t make it. So much for popularity in your last year.

“Fuck”

Turns out, getting along with Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook was a wild ride on its own, while they were both somehow connected to Kim Namjoon, they both had way different ways of exercising their connectedness, which had time and time again proven to be challenging in your eternal course of action of dethroning the man.

“I’m tellin you, Namjoon, you stick to your overused, over traditional and oppressing line of study and let me be the voice of reason” you overheard Jimin as you walked inside the cafeteria, having to turn on your heel from the growin commotion, a regular scene if the multiple social media posts from Jimin passive-aggressive late posting about his and Namjoons discussion of the week were anything to by. Jimin had been raising his voice, and while you were unable to hear whatever words came out of Namjoons mouth, Jimin’s were as clear as day “Well, that’s easy for you to say! You benefit from the system! You’re a handsome, conventionally intelligent heterosexual man!”

Other times, almost crossing paths with Namjoon went down a completely different road, with Jungkook singing praises everywhere both you and Jimin went and he decided to tag along. Namjoon hyung visited this cafe last week. Namjoon hyung actually offered a conference on his term paper last semester. Did you know that Namjoon hyung was offered a spot to work at Google? All in all, you wouldn’t have it any other way, late passive-aggressive bickering with a friend Was Namjoon even Jimin’s friend? or boy crush drooling over the man, Jimin and Jungkook had proven to be ride or dies as weeks went by.

You had just been turning left after going down the stairs, the hallway almost empty as it always is used to being, the few majors that had classes inside the building long gone for the night, which was almost a heart-stopping surprise as you heard an all too familiar low voice with an even more familiar melodic tone “...Joon listen, all I’m asking for is queer representation, is that too much to ask?” Jimin’s voice was faded, almost as if giving up in a fight that hadn’t even been fought, never had you ever thought about listening to his voice crack, not the outspoken, overly confident Jimin he let people in to believe was his all, “because apparently not even my friend is willing to help me out”

“Listen Jimin, you could always run on your own” Namjoon’s voice was compassionate, if not a bit defeated too as a sob made its way to your ears.

“You know those fuckers in the dean’s office would never allow me to get there” Jimin’s voice is filled with a sarcastic tone, a scoff making its way out as if it came from experience and you would be lying if you say it didn’t break your heart even just a little. And they say that sometimes people just happen to be in the right place, the right time.

“Listen to me, Y/N. We’re winning this presidential run” Any trace of vulnerability was gone from Jimin’s eyes as he hooked his arm around yours, driving the both of you away from where Namjoon had been standing with him just a few seconds ago, stuck in place as Jimin threw him what could only be the nastiest look you had ever seen him sport. Everything was a blur after that, Park Jimin was everything and much more than a driven person, a whole structured plan filled with petitions and alliances from small student clubs around campus willing to vote for a change within the school, a campaign born out of thin air with you as President and Jimin as Vicepresident, day after night working yourselves to the bone in order to make numbers, which had proven to be working as you easily surpassed other candidates, Kim Namjoon hadn’t even begun working on his own campaign as everyone else kept talking about him, promising votes to a man that hadn’t even said he was running for student council president. That’s just how being Kim Namjoon works around campus, you suppose.

“I mean- I see why people are drawn to him” the picture before you looked like something straight out of a Disney movie, where the lead is this obnoxious popular guy that is surrounded by girls every waking hour of the day, waiting for an opportunity to get close to him. Jimin’s eyes hadn’t left Namjoon sitting far ahead of where you two were.

“I don’t” you turn your head towards your work as Jimin glares at you, an unspoken threat in the way that he purses his lips at your comment, “I thought you hated him after-”

“Namjoon and I are friends” he cuts you off completely, a completely serious facade taking over his features not long before he redirects his attention towards his book “Although he might be stupid and not as deconstructed as he thinks he is, but he’s a handsome, caring man”

“Uh-huh”

You hear him sigh loudly and the telltales of his book slamming close as he whispers loudly in your direction “You cannot lie to my face and say you wouldn’t tap that, Y/N” He points to your back, where Kim Namjoon, as usual, is being his stupid handsome self, retreating from his spot while apologising to some girl, dimples on full display as he politely bows and rushes to enter the building. So yeah, perhaps it was almost impossible to deny just how attractive the man was, but that didn’t mean you would have to get why people were exactly gravitating towards him, why he got to be the centre of the universe without as much effort as other people poured into. It just didn’t make sense at all.

“Come on, we’re going to be late for registration”

Your teeth are gritted as you watch the scene play before you, arms tightly crossed over your chest in a way that it would make you look like a child throwing a tantrum. Months of perfectly curated hard work thrown immediately down the drain in mere seconds. All it took for the unanimous decision of turning a non-competitive student council presidency campaign into one you were destined to lose was a perfectly dimpled smile showing up ten minutes late to the candidates’ sign-ups.

That damned dimpled smile was shaking hands with the equally smiling, heart-eyed Head of the board kindly accepting Kim Namjoon’s mistake because we all run a tad little sometimes. The absolute nerve after almost turning you away for signing up your name two and a half minutes over the schedule. “Fucking Kim Namjoon”

“Yeah, I bet you’d really like that” you fix your friend the nastiest glare you could come up with at which he just shrugs and turns his attention back to the man. Jimin, as your VP candidate, was undoubtedly just as mad as you at the whole fiasco you were witnessing, if not even madder at the ordeal, given how it was also his hard work going down the drain.

Days of animated small talk with the girls around campus to ensure a vote, keeping up with the unashamed bantering the old ladies running the library constantly threw at him. It’s part of the politics of it Y/N. he had said. Well, politics was just now making bedroom eyes at the only other student on campus that was capable and willing to drown your student council presidential campaign.

Oh, it is war.

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

You immediately whip your head around as soon as you hear a chorus of shrieks going around while you and Jimin went through some campaign details, eyes focusing on the group of freshmen, mostly women, making heart eyes at the screen that hung high on the cafeteria’s wall, none other than Kim Namjoon on screen as he advertised whatever it was that he was needed to put a rather tight shirt on him for it.

“Is it really necessary to have him making official advertisement campaigns for the school now?” Jimin’s eyes deviate for a brief second to the screen before shrugging uninterested. “Isn’t it like-foul play or something for him to use the official platform as part of his campaign?”

Jimin keeps his nose in his notes before saying “Dunno, but Jungkook is one of the many actual fanboys Namjoon has so-”

You don’t even try to keep to yourself the groan that bubbles up towards your throat at the revelation.

The next time you hear Namjoon’s personal fanbase shrieking– now very aware of Jungkook’s appearance in it– it is not on screen but rather over the course of the weekend as the man is surrounded by puppies and cameras. The excuse? Apparently, the university was running an adoption campaign and Namjoon had been voted the face of the youth. Sure, a handsome man playing with puppies was a must that could have anyone’s heart-melting in a matter of seconds, but did it really have to be him?

The drop that finally spilt the glass presents itself on a Thursday evening after Jimin had gathered most of his club members and a few other passersby (led there by his stupidly charming smile) for an impromptu rally. One that had seemed to go perfectly well, enough to draw a wide smile on your face once it was done. Up until…

“Hey, that was a great job Y/N! I really liked yours and Jimin’s proposals” a girl you recognised from one of your classes approached you while she toyed with one of the flyers that you had delivered around in her hands.

You smile at her genuinely “I’m so glad to hear that! We actually are thinking about-”

“I might have to pass on voting for you guys though” The smile you had plastered on your face quickly wipes itself off as she continues rather shyly at your change of demeanour “It’s just– you guys are great, really you are but- Kim Seokjin, Namjoon’s campaign advisor, promised to give us a shirtless carwash Namjoon is he wins and you know it would be so dumb to pass such an opportunity Y/N, Kim Namjoon is buff buff”

You could very clearly see the appeal, Kim Namjoon’s biggest strength was indeed himself, aside from whatever proposals he had presented–if he even had any, there was no denying that the man was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, more so if a prospect of seeing him wash cars while half-naked played a part of it. But still, it doesn’t relent the fact that you had worked very hard on your own campaign only to lose it in the face of a pair or very much buff– and very much appealing– pair of arms.

And as if it wasn’t enough, speak of the devil “Hey- uhm, Y/N?” You have half a mind to turn around and tiredly glare at him for a few seconds, making him seem rather uneasy on his feet. Good. “Can we talk?”

You don’t even mutter out an answer before you’re dragging him inside the unoccupied auditorium, most people hanging around outside after vacating the place, a rather dimly lit space where it would hopefully pass time the quickest to whatever it was that he wanted to say.

“Listen- Seokjin-hyung asked me to come to your rally and see what it was all about in hopes of ‘driving people away' but I stayed and well- both Jimin and you have such great ideas and I just-”

“Wait- you stayed?” Your tone was purposely colder than whatever reaction that your heart seemed to deem appropriate for the situation, hammering against your chest as you feel a warm sensation rise to your face.

“Yeah and- I know my team and I have made it really difficult for you guys to draw the attention you need and it’s so fucking sad because you are actually speaking for the students and I’m just well-” you really shouldn’t find the tall man scratching the back of his head as cute as you did “I’m just doing what I’m asked to do, I do care about the students but I have no time at all to commit and I wouldn’t-”

“You’re rambling”

“Yes. So-” he clears his throat before his eyes scan the place for a brief second before landing on yours, a steady and rather impetuous gaze, they’re shifting in the slightest and you can’t help but feel flustered all around, eyes darting to stare at his lips, wondering even if just at that moment, what every other person on campus had thought about– kissing the man in front of you before he snaps you out of it “I could retire if you’d like me to”

Your brain comes to a halt as every hormonal need leaves your body, shutting your eyes tightly as you step back from him– at whichever point you two had gotten closer to each other “What? KIM NAMJOON YOU CONSIDERATE BASTARD!”

“What?”

You open your eyes to stare at him coldly“I fucking hate you”

The poor man looks almost as disoriented as you feel about the whole situation “I just offered to-”

“And you will NOT retire” you are quick to point a finger at him as a way to punctuate your words

“But you want the presidency so bad”

“And I WILL win it. Fair and square” you turn to him and can clearly make out a smirk on his face, one that makes him look even more handsome than you could even begin to admit even in such a low light “Not because your stupid bland heart lets me win it” You face away from him as you take a deep breath “I am an independent woman”

“Oh that you are” Namjoon’s tone had seemed to stabilise itself, a rather cheeky and playful tone to his words now “So…it’s on?”

You turn to face him, approaching him for the second time in the span of five minutes, a fire in both of your eyes as you seem to stare down at each other “It’s on, Kim Namjoon. I’ll stomp on your stupidly gorgeous face”

“Can’t wait” you extend your hand towards his at the same time he does the same, opting to shake hands for a brief moment before he scoffs playfully and leaves the auditorium. Just about how much worse could it be if Kim Namjoon was openly competing against you this one time?

Apparently, a lot worse.

First off, campus campaign had turned into a whole ordeal where you would find yourself along with the rest of the candidates trying to get people for rallies, handing out information on the same spot– it certainly was questionable whether or not being bombarded by five different people about the same thing in the span of three minutes would work but campus rules were meant to be followed.

It should have stopped at that. Having to share a spot with Kim Namjoon– painfully aware and teasing Kim Namjoon. The man could be handing out a flyer mere meters away all the while locking eyes with you for a brief second before winking and going back to his conversation, leaving you flushed on the spot. Or the way that you were able to see just how much material there was on the man from whatever perspective you dared to look at him. Perhaps he wasn’t that overhyped as much as you were stubborn on seeing what had been in front of your face all along. But that wasn’t right, there was a reason for his popularity, and it was most certainly a trap. A trap you had fallen into the second Kim Namjoon had dared look you in the face. That’s just how he rolled on campus, a pretty face to accompany a gorgeous brain, a hole in one to have pretty much everyone wrapped around his finger. Flirting just came naturally to him, nothing less, nothing more.

“Kim Namjoon could you please stop your googly eyes with Y/N and focus on your career?”

You had almost been curious enough to look up and see what the whole fuzz was about, thinking better, at last, to leave it be. Now that Namjoon knew he was actively competing against you, it was in your best interest to keep yourself alienated, at least that was what Jimin had said in passing after spilling the tea of the other day inside the auditorium. “Sorry hyung”

The second problem had risen when it was none other than Kim motherfucking Namjoon redirecting his own spotlight onto you whenever you two shared a lecture. “That’s my opinion, I know for fact Y/N has something to say about it” “I would really like to hear Y/N’s perspective on that one” “Perhaps Y/N has something to add to that?”

You weren’t so sure how you were supposed to stand on that one, having been relayed from the academic spotlight from him on countless times, now leaving you speechless along with everybody else on the room whenever the blond-haired man decided to shift in his seat so he could place the entirety of his– and everyone else’s– attention onto whatever words you dared to utter after him. A constant battle inside your mind that didn’t know whether to scold or thank him for it.

The most certain– and truthfully unthinkable at first– outcome to Namjoon’s change of demeanour was the conversations that followed you in the hallways, skimpy glances and hushed voices all wondering the same: ‘Since when did Kim Namjoon get a girlfriend?’ Although it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“So I heard you and Namjoon-hyung are dating” Jungkook’s backpack hit the floor aeons before he sat down, as always.

“I am not”

A second presence making itself known as you were about to sip on your cup “So apparently you and I are dating now”

“In your wildest dreams Namjoon” you scoff at him

“Wouldn’t know, haven’t had those yet” you can see Jungkook’s eyes getting bigger by the second when he takes a seat on Jimin’s usual spot. “I do, however, have a proposition for you, a real one at that”

There’s a loud sound of a chair scraping the floor as you both turn to look at Jungkook scrambling to get out of there “I gotta go- room- left my uh- brush in the microwave” you can see him cringe to himself by the way that he scrunches his nose “Bye Y/N! bye Namjoon-hyung!” so what if you see him almost crashing against the glass doors thrice on his way out.

You turn your attention to Namjoon “I’m listening I guess”

“Right. So uhm- the dean is throwing a dinner party tonight for the school representatives and well- I thought you might like to come”

“Why are you really inviting me?”

“I needed a plus one”

“You could get anyone out there” a mix of uncertainty and just the slightest bit 9f insecurity taking over your mind as soon as the proposition so much as dwell inside your brain until you flashbacked the past few weeks, finding a specific reason as to why he would be doing such a thing. “Kim Namjoon, why me? why the Dean’s diner party?”

You are, as predicted, met with utter silence.

“Kim Namjoon”

“Well it could really help your election and you really want it and you won’t let me back down so I’m trying to help- if you’d like of course”

You ponder the thought for a second, considering the exact extent to which Namjoon, once rival, now… something along the lines of it still, is taking the presidential campaign and him helping you out without it being an actual helping hand. “And if I don’t?”

“Then this is me inviting you as my plus one” his dimpled smile takes over his face and you can feel a warm sensation taking over your whole body, rivalry aside, there’s no denying that Kim Namjoon might actually be the closest one can get to a perfect man.

As a sign of understanding, he takes your hand in his much bigger one, nothing intimate about it, simply reassuring as his proposition keeps on being inside your mind “You know we’re supposed to be rivals”

He lets go of your hand and you regret the words coming out of your mouth immediately, thinking you might have upset him with your prolonged silence, until you fix your eyes on his teasing smirk, something other than bantering in his eyes that you can’t quite place “Oh we are, Y/N. Selective rivals. The best kind”

“This was such a bad idea”

“What are you talking about?” “Oh hey, professor Jung, may I present to you Y/N? She’s running for student council president, I’m sure Hoseok has talked about her to you before, I’m just putting my word in for her this time around”

“Kim Namjoon, a word?”

You’re left awkwardly standing along with Professor Jung, answering half-assed answers to generic questions about school. Perhaps this was the reason Kim Namjoon was so good at what he did. Sweet talker fucker. The man excused himself after his eyes jumped around the room for a few seconds. You found yourself gravitating towards where the two tall men were not so discreetly talking

“-Kim Namjoon I built a whole career for you and you’re giving it for free to your girlfriend”

“I’m not his-“

“Y/N sweetheart I adore you but I’m beating your boyfriend’s ass right now” he turned his attention towards Namjoon as you’re left with your heart thumping loudly against your chest “Do you have any idea how hard it was to get your ass in here? And you go ahead and bring none other than your strongest rival!” “No offence Y/N, you’re amazing”

“Which is why she’s here!” Seokjin throws the nastiest look his way “Hyung listen, Y/N is the best bet out there, both she and Jimin actually have plans for their presidency, they just need a handicap to win this” Seokjin turns to look at you, making you recoil subconsciously “Y/N might be your best project so far, help her win this, hyung”

“You do realize by now, with the rumours going around about her being your lover, and the whole year long fiasco you two had going on in classes, it’s almost impossible for her to be noticed enough to compete against you right?” You had always heard about Kim Seokjin masterful public relations graduate, a true legend if the word going around was anything to go by. Never had you imagined him to be such a passionate and somewhat crude person in action “No offence, love”

It was something you had always been aware of, deep down. Never had you imagined before that you would hear it said out loud, not one second had you thought it would hurt you as much as it did as soon as the words left Seokjin’s mouth. Perhaps it was true, and everyone else was aware of it, a faceless person trying to compete against charismatic, student extravaganza Kim Namjoon, laughable.

“It’s-It’s fine, I’ll just- I’ll go catch some fresh air, you two keep your thing”

Catching some fresh had turned into grabbing a few champagne flutes from the waiters passing by, not enough to get drunk but most certainly enough to make that weird nauseating sensation you got when your eyes landed on Namjoon being shamelessly hit on by a classmate, enough to accept a stranger’s invitation onto the dance floor, at least the intention was clear before Kim motherfucking Namjoon materialized from thin air, placing a hand on the small of your back

“I’ll take it from here, buddy” The man scurried off in a matter of seconds at his sight. Only leaving a pondering Namjoon in its place as he started lecturing you about scurrying off and downing alcohol like water in an official party, the words mushed as your brain couldn’t really quite comprehend what he was saying until the last bit “..that was so childish of you, Y/N”

“You think I’m childish?” you scoff “How about you take a look at yourself! You and I are nothing Namjoon, why do you gotta get all alpha male when that man asked me to dance?”

There’s a kicked puppy look on Namjoon’s face that almost has you taking back your words “Listen- I’m sorry okay? I don’t know what got to me”

“You certainly didn’t have a problem when Seojun was grinding against you”

“Oh, so you’re jealous” that signature cocky smile of his is back on his face in a second as you whip your head around to face him, pointing an accusatory finger his way.

“Don’t you dare turn this against me”

You both had been walking the whole time, only now noticing the way that you two were surrounded by massive trees, the lights from inside the party barely reaching where you were both standing as he takes the opportunity to stand above you, large hands finding home in the small of your back.”Are you okay, though?”

There’s a much softer look in his eyes you had never seen in him ever before, perhaps too focused on other things to notice it, you can’t help but let your eyes travel down to his lips, wondering if they would feel as soft as they look, if Kim Namjoon is really an all-rounded overachiever and could potentially be the best kisser out there. Your voice is barely over a whisper as you place your hands behind his neck, pulling him towards you in a second, breath fanning his face, eyes droopy “Just kiss me already”

There’s really no other way you’d picture it, Namjoon’s soft lips on yours as one of his hands comes up to caress your cheek, lips moving deliciously and feather-like as you get lost in it, something akin to pride filling your chest at the realisation that you’re kissing the Kim Namjoon. Campus’ most sought out bachelor. Campaign rival Kim Namjoon who you’d once thought you’d hate forever before the man had willingly put his career in line by believing in your ideas, Kim Namjoon who could have done a thousand things to make you go crazy and despise him in every possible way, although it certainly doesn’t feel like that man is the same as the one holding onto you so tightly, as if afraid of losing you when he didn’t even have you in the first place, holding your face with utmost care as his lips danced against you in the most tender way.

You feel like you could stay right there forever, up until a screech makes its way up to your throat, dress getting wet in a second as you both finally are separated by the automatically activated sprinklers surrounding you. You don’t think there’s a sound that can rival the way that NAmjoon laughs as he takes your hand in his before running away from the place, heaving, hair and clothes all wet as you catch your breath, a familiar figure clad in the most expensive suit you could lay your eyes on coming into view, Jimin’s pose radiates being done with both of you as he gets ready to walk back to where he came from “I don’t even want to know”

After getting a taste at just how soft and tender– and undoubtedly hot– Namjoon could be, no one could really blame you if during one of the rare occasions you find yourself without much else to do, ready to wind down on your own, quiet dorm room all to yourself, a teasing hand that you wish was someone else’s finding its way under your panties, the rest of your clothes laying somewhere on the floor to pick up later, ragged breaths and wet noises taking over the rather small space as your closed eyes conjure Kim Namjoon’s image, imagining just how much better you would be filled if it were his hands working you towards orgasm, you can even swear you faintly sniff his cologne as you hear a door clicking in the back of your mind, a sharp inhale making you open up your eyes in a fraction of second, glistening fingers out of your heat as you stare terrorised at the man standing in front of you.

“WHAT THE FUCK NAMJOON”

“Sorry, sorry” he pulls a book nearby to cover the entirety of his face as you scramble to throw a hoodie over yourself, “Jimin said-”

“That fucking bastard”

There’s a rather awkward silence that follows, although it doesn’t go over your head how there’s a palpable tension in it too, unspoken want mingling with it as clears his throat “Uhm, I could-” he gestures towards the door, leaving you stunned in silence, even more so as his next words register in your mind “Or I could help if-”

“Let’s see if you live up to the expectations Kim Namjoon”

He is quick to take a seat in the cramped up space, pulling your desk’s chair closer to the bed before extending a helping hand your way, pulling you onto his lap, wet cunt undoubtedly staining his pants as his hands come up to hold your waist under the hoodie, rocking you softly on top of his clothed and rapidly hardening cock, skilled hands getting rid of the single clothing article covering you before his head dives in to latch onto your nipples to give them much needed attention that has your head dipping backwards, hands on his thighs to keep you balanced, open-mouthed kissed trailing along your exposed skin before his tongue darts out with yours in a feverish kiss as he manoeuvres out of his clothes just enough to let his cock spring free, half-hard as you take it in your hand, pumping it a few times, enough to have him closing his eyes in pleasure, the moment gone briefly as you roll a condom on him from your desk, quickly regaining that charavteristic tender controlling side of him as you position the tip of his cock before you sink down on him, your fingers ridding him of his shirt so that you can press yiour naked chest to his, hands tugging at his head as you bury yourself in a passionate kiss, tender and slow as it matched his languid rythm, kissing noises, chair squeaking along with breathy moans filling the air as you both reached your high in the sweetest most Namjoon-like way possible.

“Listen, no matter the outcome, you’re a strong independent woman” Namjoon had opted to sit by your side when the results ceremony was meant to take place, odd looks were thrown your way as the rivalry fiasco had become a thing around campus, suddenly to be seen attached at the hip after that late evening in your dorm. Not quite talked about, yet familiar about it, pace slow and coming to terms about the whole ordeal.

“Why does that sound straight out of a mum’s Facebook page?” there’s something akin to pure adoration in his eyes that has your chest clenching, needing to reassure him in the most honest way possible that you knew “I know”

He turns you around to face him, hands on your shoulders keeping you there, that rarely seen serious and overly fond side of him taking over “I mean it, Y/N you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, you’re stubborn and strong-willed and not many people see it, but you don’t need them to acknowledge your hard work, you’re doing just enough” your eyes get glassy, a warmth in your chest that has you blooming from inside, the flashbacks from everything that had happened before coming to the front of your mind, how it was impossible to think about Namjoon in this new light “You also look hot as fuck when you look like you want to snap my neck in two”

“And…there goes our moment” he laughs as he takes your hand in his much bigger one, fingers caressing the back of your hand in a subtle attempt to soothe your nerves.

“With an incredible and never seen before point breaker of 50% plus one, thanks to a late voter, I am glad to announce your next Student Council President..” You close your eyes in anticipation, whatever the outcome, as much as your heart aches for it, you can’t quite complain about what the whole experience had brought to you, amazing friends, a competitive spirit, lots of learning and an even more amazing boyfriend– plus, you’re almost sure Namjoon would listen to every word you might say on his administration, so that’s a plus. “Y/N!”

You turn to look at Namjoon, eyes crinkled by his smile, dimples on full display, fully aware that he had been the last one to vote. Your ears are ringing, there are cheers somewhere, Jimin is doing a teasing dance in front of Jungkook, Seokjin is smiling knowingly, and you feel like you’re about to pass out. “Why would you do it?”

“Eh..I’ve been student president before, thought I might try out the first gentleman part now” Namjoon huffs out a laugh as you gracelessly get on your tiptoes to pull him in for s kiss, the crowd cheering louder around you, his hands grabbing your waist before he rests his forehead against yours, voice barely above a whisper “I’m walking this path by your side, Y/N never forget that”

he forgets your birthday

Jin x f!reader

Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

WC: 1.1k

<series masterlist>

ding!

You look over to your phone as the screen lights up with a text from your boyfriend, Jin. You had texted him two hours ago asking if he could come over for dinner tonight. His text reads,

Jin: sorry babe, the boys planned a karaoke night. Maybe tomorrow?

You text back,

Y/n: sure no problem. have fun

You sigh, placing your phone back down on your desk and leaning back in your chair. It sucked to have an assignment due on your birthday, and having dinner with Jin was the only thing keeping you motivated.

Keep reading

pairing: jin x reader word count: 5.4k genre: friends to lovers (can you tell what my favourite trope is? my bad) summary: In which her mom knits her and Jin matching couples' Christmas sweaters, which comes with only one problem - they're not a couple. warning/tags: slight angst, meddling mothers, kissing A/N: Ahh! Finally! Here's my first fic for my Winter Wonderland fic event. Thank you so much to everyone who participated/who is still participating - check out the Masterlist here for all the wonderful fics that have been written!

Christmas is most definitely her favourite time of year.

The lights, the decorations, the snow — the way that the world seems just a little bit softer around the edges. Everytime she steps outside, even in the freezing cold, she feels just that much lighter. Not to mention that decorating her apartment every year sparks an immense amount of joy — and she has to admit that she’s extra pleased with the work she’s done on her place this year.

“It looks great, sweetie!”

Her mom’s voice sounds through the phone as Y/N finishes the tour of her apartment in all of its newly decked out glory — the silver garland hung by the door and in front of the TV on its stand; the twinkling lights and fake snow set up on the windowsills; her favourite red throw blanket and snowman pillows on the couch. Of course, she ends with the grand finale – her Christmas tree.

She sets her mom up on the coffee table before she moves to grab the box that she’d set on the kitchen table after work — the one that she’s surprised made it through the mail in one piece, considering the state of it. She places it between her legs on the floor as she sits down on the couch.

“Thanks, mom,” Y/N replies. “I’m pretty proud of my decorating this year.” She pauses, glancing down at the heavily-taped box before looking back at her phone screen. “Okay, are you sure I can open this now? It feels blasphemous to open it before Christmas. It’s not even mid-December yet!”

“Since when have you ever hesitated to have Christmas a little early?” Her mother teases. “What is it that you always say about December 1st?”

“That December 1st is also Christmas 1st,” Y/N replies automatically, and her mom laughs.

“Exactly. I promise, you want to open this one now — I’ve sent another box with your actual presents, don’t you worry.”

“There’s more?” Every year since she moved away, she’s gotten a Christmas box in the mail from back home, but never two. “You spoil me.”

“Open it!”

“Fine,” Y/N concedes with a teasing eye roll, “but remember that I was the patient one this time.”

She does as told, opening the box carefully, and gasps as she moves the tissue paper aside. Underneath it she finds two neatly folded, hand-knit Christmas sweaters, intricately woven threads in patterns of greens, reds and whites.

“Mom!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “Did you make these?”

Her mom nods excitedly, looking terribly pleased with her daughter’s reaction. “Yes! I’ve been taking classes with the ladies.”

“Wow,” Y/N murmurs, holding up each sweater in turn to look at them in detail, admiring her mom’s handiwork. “You've always been good at crafting, but you’ve outdone yourself this time.” She stops talking again, completely in awe.

“I’m so glad you like them.”

“I love them,” Y/N corrects, continuing to run her fingers over the material, before she suddenly realizes something. “You didn’t have to make two, though. I do, in fact, possess a washing machine.”

Her mom tsks. “Don’t be silly,” she chastises. “The other one is for Jin.”

Y/N looks up abruptly at that. She’s sure that the surprise on her face can be seen from miles away, as she blinks back at her mom through the screen.

Jin?

Seokjin?

The Jin she’s known for a couple of years now? Her friend, Jin? The one that is always up for a last minute coffee run or a spontaneous trip, the one who comes over almost once a week for movie nights, the one who loves Christmas as much as she does? The one with the soft brown hair that falls perfectly across his forehead right before he gets it cut, the one with the dark, teasing eyes that haunt her every waking moment, the one whose smile she’s certain every romance novel has been written about?

The one that she’d been sure nobody, even her own mother, knew she had a crush on?

That Jin?

“Huh?” She finally manages to blurt out. “Jin?” She can’t help the way her heart has begun to race at the thought of him, and she hates it.

Her mom gives her an exasperated, knowing look, her eyebrows raised. “Yes, Jin. The boy you’re dating?”

Y/N is frozen — save for her heart that's now not just racing, but absolutely pounding at the insinuation of her and Jin being in a relationship — and it takes her another moment to react. “What? Mom, no. I–”

At the sound of her doorbell ringing, she jumps, even though she knows exactly who it is on the other side – which makes her current situation even worse. What convenient timing.

“Who’s that?”

“I think you already know, Mom.”

Y/N shoves the offending sweaters back into the box, before hastily placing the package behind the armchair and out of sight. The panic in her continues to rise as she tries to calm herself down before he sees her — as though Jin will be able to read her mind and know what has her so flustered. She doesn’t even want to risk it.

“I won’t say a word,” her mom promises with a suggestive wink through the screen. “But you’d better give him his sweater. I worked hard on that!”

Y/N can hear the doorknob jiggling as Jin uses the key she’d given him to let himself into her apartment, and her panic rises even further. All she can do now is pray that Jin doesn’t notice how red she’s become, because there’s no way she can erase the red from her cheeks before he gets inside.

“I’ll give it to him later,” she hisses. “But Mom, why–”

“Honey, I’m home!”

Jin’s voice rings out as he finally opens the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him with a soft click. Her eyes are immediately drawn to him, and she’s lost for a moment at the sight of him so casually in her doorway — as if it’s his home, too. She wishes it was.

As always, when she sees him, it takes her brain a moment to catch up. Thankfully, he never seems to notice. He shoots her a grin as he holds up a bag from their favourite bakery in his hands, somehow completely oblivious to her current inner turmoil.

“I’ve secured the goods.”

She manages to tear herself away after shooting him a thumbs up before she turns back to her phone, praying to the heavens that she can make a quick getaway before her mom says anything else.

“Mom, I’m going to go–”

“Wait. Your mom’s on the phone?”

She hears a soft thud as Jin drops the pastry bag. Within seconds, he’s by her side on the couch, and she can feel every part of him pressed against her. It’s a normal occurrence to be this close when they hang out at her apartment – her couch is small – but she hadn’t even had a second to prepare for it this time.

Her mom is wrong – they are absolutely not dating.

She definitely does have a huge, massive, unrequited crush on him, though.

He grins and waves at her mom through the screen, and she’s done for.

Yep. Massive crush.

“Jin, hi!”

Y/N watches as Jin converses easily with her mom. The older woman is easily charmed, which is especially understandable when it comes to Jin, and Y/N is sure that the two of them could talk for hours if she let them. She tries to send pointed looks to her mom through the phone, and the hint is finally taken as her mom makes up an excuse about going to knit a sweater — which is paired with a completely unsubtle, exaggerated wink. When they finally hang up, Jin is beaming.

“I love your mom.”

She’s a little bit speechless for a moment as she’s finally able to take in the sight of him up close, his nose still red and his cheeks still a little flushed from the cold. His hair is a bit tousled from the wind, causing it to fall in those soft waves across his forehead that she loves so much. He still has his jacket and shoes on from his rush to say hi to her mother, and when he stands back up to take them off and leaves her alone on the couch, she’s finally able to breathe a little.

“I’ll clean up the snow I dragged in onto the floor,” he offers sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just excited to say hi to her.”

She ignores the fluttering in her chest that comes immediately at his words. She hastily tries to push back the thoughts that come — thoughts of taking him home to meet her family in person, thoughts of him with her younger cousins, with her parents. She just knows that he would fit in perfectly with her chaotic family circle, and her sanity can’t afford to think about it any longer.

“Your place looks great, by the way,” he says, interrupting her daydream, and she realizes that she's barely said two words to him since he arrived.

“Thanks, Jinnie.”

He smiles over at her from his spot by the door as he hangs up his coat on the coat rack, leaning down to place his shoes neatly on the mat before grabbing the bakery bag from where he’d dropped it on the floor.

“I can’t believe I put these babies on the floor,” he pouts, lifting the bag to hold it against his heart. “I’m sorry, my sweet, sweet pastries.”

She snorts at that. “Don’t worry about it — the pastries will forgive you.”

Jin sets the bag down on the coffee table before he disappears into the kitchen to grab paper towel to clean up his mess.

“I’m sure your rush to the phone made my mom’s day,” she adds, calling out to him. “She loves you.”

“As previously stated, the feeling’s mutual.”

He winks as he appears in the living room again, and she scrunches up her nose, turning away under the guise of putting on Netflix. In truth, she’s been finding it terribly difficult to be around him this Christmas season — and not for any fault of his own. He’s a great friend, a great person — of course she’s fallen in love with him a little bit. What is there not to love? It’s just that being around him, especially at Christmas, hurts a lot more now that she’s finally accepted her feelings for him. She knows she can’t just cancel their holiday plans — including the ones that involve him curled up and cosy on her couch — and even if she could, she doesn’t want to.

She’s certain that not being around him would hurt far more than crushing on him in silence ever could.

He finds his spot next to her again, this time looking much too boyfriend in his black hoodie and jeans. As she presses play on the next episode of the show they’ve been binge watching, he’s too busy digging into his sweet treat and groaning dramatically with each bite to notice that she isn’t really watching the show. Her eyes keep wandering to where the sweater box is hidden behind the couch as she replays her mom’s words in her mind. She’s never told her mom about her feelings for Jin, so why had she assumed that they were dating? How had she known?

She can wear her own sweater for the next few weeks and give him his on Christmas, right? That would give her a couple of weeks to avoid any awkward conversations. Plus, her mom won’t know the difference… But then again, she knows she can only put off the conversation for so long — it’s inevitable, and it’s just a matter of when.

How is she supposed to explain to Jin why he’d gotten a gift from her mom for the first time in two years? Oh, yeah, she thinks we’re dating now.

Absolutely not.

She’s not ready.

She resolves that Christmas is still weeks away, and that she has time to figure it out.

*****

Turns out, she does not have time to figure it out.

As usual, Christmas comes around far too quickly for her liking, and not because she doesn’t like Christmas — but because she likes it too much. It doesn’t help either that this year, she’s somehow ended up with plans to spend the holiday with a certain Kim Seokjin.

“Are you going to be alone on Christmas Eve?”

They’re sitting at their favourite cafe when he asks it out of the blue, and it takes her a second to process his question.

“Obviously,” she teases, once she’s recovered. “You know my family is too far away for me to go see see them. Who else would I spend it with?”

He pauses for a beat, and then, “Me?”

She blinks. He smiles. Her eyebrows raise as she tries to maintain a steady facade despite the stark, rapid increase in her heart rate, and thankfully her stare has him caving quickly.

“I have to work during the day on Christmas Eve,” he elaborates, “ so I can’t go to the family cabin.”

“And naturally I’m your next choice?”

Her words come out sarcastic, but she’s suddenly worried that he’ll see through her and realize just how much his sudden proposal has affected her. To her surprise, his face is the one that softens, and she swears she sees a blush on his cheeks as his head dips down to stare at the table between them.

“Of course you are.”

What?

She blinks. “Oh.”

“If you are actually busy, that’s okay,” he says quickly after a moment, and she’s surprised at how fast his tone changes. “I get it, you probably have your own thing.”

His words are casual, but his voice sounds off. He’s still not looking at her, and she can’t make any sense of it. She’s confused - he was usually so happy-go-lucky with plans, and she hasn’t even given him an answer yet. But before she can even speak, he’s looking up at her again, and his usual smiling face is back. She frowns, not sure what to make of what’s just happened.

“I’m not,” she manages to stammer out. “Busy, I mean.”

His face cracks again – she’s not imagining it this time. She watches as something that looks like relief passes over his features before he relaxes back into his chair, his fingers wrapping around his coffee cup as he brings it to his lips.

“Okay, good.” He smiles over at her, and she nods. It’s her turn to look down now, to look away from where he’s gotten his confidence back as he adds, “Can’t wait.”

*****

She doesn’t realize it until a few days before, but she’s working later than Jin on Christmas Eve. She calls him to apologize profusely – she’s the host, how can she not make dinner – and she’s in the middle of a breakdown about not being home in time to cook for them when he offers.

“I just assumed I would be cooking, anyway,” he says teasingly through the phone, “since you can’t even boil pasta.”

She protests – it was one time - but she knows that deep down she’s not really disappointed by his suggestion. She’s excited, actually. She feels bad that she won’t be able to help him, but she also knows how much he loves to cook – and how much he likes to surprise the people he loves, though she tries not to think too much about where she fits into that category.

When she finally makes it home on the 24th, she’s exhausted and cold, but her heart warms instantly when she steps inside her apartment. There’s music playing – a soft, instrumental version of Silver Bells – and her decorations are lit up, causing her otherwise dark living room to be cast in a soft glow. She can hear humming and can smell something divine from the direction of her kitchen, and as she takes off her coat and scarf, she has to stop for a second to catch her breath before she allows herself to see what she knows awaits her in the next room. She isn’t sure she’ll be able to handle it.

She’s right.

Jin stands by the stove, her Santa apron hung loosely over his neck. Her eyes wander over the expanse of his back and she realizes that he’s wearing her favourite deep red dress shirt of his – the one that hugs his shoulders just so. Her eyes wander upwards to said shoulders, then up to where he’s styled his hair back off his forehead for the evening. The song changes, and when he moves to check the title on his phone, he catches her in the doorway. A smile spreads across his lips, so full and genuine, and all just at the sight of her.

“Hi!”

“Hi,” she manages.

“I’m almost done!” He turns back to the stove, and she can finally breathe a little without the weight of his gaze. “Go get changed. Everything will be ready in 20 minutes.”

When she wanders back into the living room donning her homemade Christmas sweater and her favourite pair of jeans, Jin is just setting down the last plate on her coffee table. She gasps a little when she sees the way he’s set everything up with her Christmas dishes, and she notices that he’s placed a small bouquet of poinsettias in the middle.

“Ta-da,” he says softly.

“Jin…”

“Do you like it?”

She doesn’t speak for a moment – she can’t – and he seems to take that as a bad sign as his hand lifts to rub at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much or if it looks bad. I’ve never been good at the whole plating thing… I just know that you love Christmas a lot so I tried to make it, well, super Christmas-ey.”

She shakes her head, and she has to swallow the lump in her throat before she can say anything. “Jin,” she repeats, and she can feel his eyes on her as she takes everything in again. “This is…” She bites her lip, willing herself to meet his gaze. He looks nervous, and she hastens to soothe his worries. “This is amazing, Jin,” she says quietly, but the way his shoulders relax let her know that he heard her. “Wow.”

“Good,” is all he says in return, and she can hear the breath of air that he lets out in relief. “Let’s dig in.”

She’s grateful that the conversation is normal enough as they sit on the floor to eat. She still finds herself looking at him for a bit too long, giggling a little bit more than usual, and she’s terrified he’ll catch on to her nerves, too. It feels too much like a date, she realizes, and that’s not what this is. He just looks so soft under the glow of the Christmas tree, handsome in ways that she can’t even begin to explain, and she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do about how in love with him she is.

“Thanks for hanging out with me on Christmas.” She says it without thinking as they finish eating, and Jin tilts his head to the side.

“Why are you thanking me?”

She blushes, looking down at the glass of wine in her hands. “I’m sure you probably had lots of other options, so thanks for thinking of me, I guess.”

“I mean, I’m always thinking about you.”

Her heart stops. She forces herself to swallow the sip of wine she’s just taken, avoiding his eyes completely. How is she supposed to respond? How can he be so casual?

“You know I want to be here, right?”

His words are soft as he says them, and she feels warmth shoot through her when his hand brushes her thigh. When she doesn’t move away, he begins to trace circles into the fabric of her jeans, and her eyes finally meet his again.

“There’s no one else I would rather be with,” he says after a moment, and she’s trying desperately to keep up. Her heart is racing as he searches her face, and she swears she’s never seen him look so serious. His fingers still their motions as they stare at one another, and she’s sure the breath is completely gone from her lungs.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

An alarm sounds from the kitchen, but Jin doesn’t move, his gaze falling to her mouth as he murmurs, “Dessert.”

Huh?

It’s then that he stands up, and she falls back against the couch, her hand lifting up and settling over her chest.

What the hell was that?

When Jin comes back with a promise that their dessert would cool down soon, she’s already sitting up on the couch. Neither of them says anything for a moment.

“Should we open just one gift each?” Jin finally speaks. “Start our own Christmas Eve tradition?”

She blinks slowly, before she nods. “Sure, yeah. Let’s do that.”

“It’ll be fun,” Jin exclaims, and she wonders if she’s the only one who was affected by their moment just before. “What’s in this giant box?” He muses, glancing down over the side of the couch. “Let’s start with that.”

Oh, no.

“Oh, that’s just–”

“It says it’s from your hometown!” He pauses, inspecting the top of the box. “Wait, you already opened it? Can I see what it is?”

His eyes are wide as he smiles over at her excitedly, and she knows there’s no way she could ever deny him. Not when he’s looking at her like this. All she can do is nod again, speechless, and then he’s opening the box like a child on Christmas morning.

“This is – this one is from my mom,” she finally stumbles, and her entire rehearsed speech about the sweaters goes out the window. “It’s for us. Um, for me, but also for you.” Jin’s eyes widen even more, and she can’t help but stammer on before he can speak, gesturing at the sweater she’s wearing. “This one’s mine – she made one for both of us. I’m not sure why, but she seemed to think you would like one, so I guess she–”

“Holy shit.”

She’s interrupted by his curse, surprised at his choice of words, but all of that is quickly forgotten when she takes note of how he’s lit up like the lights on her tree – brighter, even. He looks so completely thrilled that her heart skips multiple beats, and she realizes, not for the first time, just how easy it is to love him.

“Your mom knit me a sweater?”

She’s dumbfounded as she nods, and within seconds, he’s standing up. He swiftly pulls the sweater over his head in one motion, and when his head pops out from the top again, he looks so genuinely pleased that it makes her heart ache. He crosses the room to look at himself in the mirror by her door, and he can’t help but grin at his own reflection.

“This is incredible!”

She watches as he looks down, his fingers tracing the pattern her mother had knit for him. The sweater looks good on him – though everything does, she supposes. She’s so busy ogling him that she barely hears him when he speaks again.

“What time is it back home for you? Can we call her?”

Her eyes widen, and she’s about to shake her head in panic when Jin pouts.

“I really want to thank her… This is so nice, I can’t believe it.”

“Okay,” she concedes, and Jin whoops before grabbing her phone from the coffee table. She hesitantly pulls up the call, and within seconds her mom has answered.

“Hi, baby!” Her mom croons from the screen. It only takes her a second to notice the man beside her before she cries out his name, too. “Oh! Jin!”

“Hi!” Jin waves excitedly from beside Y/N.

“Merry Christmas, you two! What are you upto?”

“We just finished dinner,” Jin informs.

“I hope Y/N didn’t cook,” her mom teases, and Y/N blushes.

“Of course not,” Jin grins. “Don’t worry – I took care of it.” He winks, and her mom claps her hands in delight. “We called because I wanted to thank you for the sweater. I love it.”

Despite the intended short phone call, the two of them delve into conversation again, and Y/N settles in to listen. She can’t help but keep her eyes on Jin as he interacts with her mom, turning to her every now and again to get a dramatic reaction out of her (which she willingly provides). She’s barely listening as she sips her wine, tracing the side of his profile with her gaze, her chin in her hand. She’s in a daze, with a dumb smile on her face, when it happens.

“Thank you again for the sweater,” Jin says seriously. “It means a lot to me.”

Her heart warms to a million degrees, before it promptly turns into ice at her mother’s next choice of words.

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for the boy my baby girl loves.”

Everything freezes. Her mouth falls open in shock, and it feels like time stops as nobody says anything. It can’t be longer than a few seconds, but it feels like lifetimes before someone breaks the silence.

“The boy she loves, huh?”

It’s Jin who speaks first, and she’s not sure if that’s better or worse. She can feel him looking at her, but she refuses to give in — she knows that there’s absolutely no hiding how flushed she’s become now, and if she meets his eyes, she’ll lose every shred of dignity that she has left in her.

“Of course!” Her mom finally seems to pick up on the tension, and Y/N wants to disappear into the floor. “It looks great on you, Jin. So glad you like it, but I’d better be going.”

Her mom hangs up with a swift goodbye and another ‘Merry Christmas’, and then – it’s just the two of them again. She decides quickly that she can’t be around him for a second longer as she stands abruptly.

“I’ll go do the dishes.”

To her dismay, Jin follows her into the kitchen, standing beside her silently with a towel for drying ready in his hands. He doesn’t speak, but he keeps sneaking glances at her that she willfully ignores, terrified of what might happen if she looks at him directly. It’s dead silent in the kitchen save for the sound of water and clinking dishes, and when she simply can’t bear it anymore, she blurts out the first thing that came to mind.

“I have never in my entire life told my mom that I’m in love with you, just to clarify.”

Great start.

“She said that you loved me, not that you were in love with me.” Jin’s voice is calm as he responds smoothly — a serious juxtaposition to the inside of her mind. “Those two things are very different, so it’s interesting that you just said the latter.”

She feels her cheeks flush even more as she continues to wash the dishes, and she can feel his gaze still on her as he continues to dry the glass that’s in his hands. She’s desperate to change the subject, but he speaks again before she can.

“Do you?”

“Do I what, Jin?” Her tone is full of exasperation.

“Love me.”

She nearly drops the plate she’s washing. “We are not talking about this.”

“It should be an easy answer, shouldn’t it?”

Her heart is racing a million miles per minute as she tries to figure out the best escape plan. “You know the answer already. Of course I do — you’re my friend.”

Jin pauses, silent, before reaching out to grasp onto the other end of the plate that she’s holding in her hands.

“Y/N,” he says, voice a low timbre in the quiet of the kitchen. His eyes search for hers, and as soon as he finds them, she has to fight the urge to look away. “You know what I’m asking.” He pauses again, before finally posing the question that she really wished he wouldn’t, his voice low. “Do you love me like that?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. She lets him pry the dish from her hands, but instead of drying it, he sets it down on the counter. His drying rag follows soon after, and she’s rooted in place.

“Jin…” She trails off as he takes a step forward, moving even further into her space, and her eyes meet his again.

“I’m in your kitchen on Christmas Day,” he begins, his voice gentle, “wearing a damn sweater that your mom knit for me.” His eyes are gentle. “I’m asking if you’re in love with me.”

She’s stunned into silence. How can she answer him? Why is he pretending that it’s so simple?

“What do you want me to say here, Seokjin?”

He searches her face, a soft smile curling onto his mouth before he says the words that nearly knock her off her feet. “That you love me back would be ideal.”

Her heart stutters in her chest, skipping several beats before righting itself as best as it can.

“Jin—”

“Tell me that you don’t, and I’ll never bring it up again.” His voice is even softer now. He searches her eyes, his dark brown ones warm in the dim light of her kitchen. For the first time, he looks a bit unsure, his brows furrowing gently as he gazes back at her.

“Can you…” She pauses, trying to catch her breath as he waits for her to gather her thoughts.

“Hm?” He prompts gently, urging her to go on.

“Can you say it?”

He blinks back at her, his brows furrowing even more. “Can I say what?”

“What I think you’re saying.” She begins to stumble over her words. “Because you haven’t actually said it, and I need to be sure that I’m not misreading this, because I will—“

“That I love you?”

Her heart leaps into her throat as he cuts her off. She shakes her head, feeling her hands tremble as she moves to twist them into the hem of her shirt. “Not that… I know that you love me.”

The pause that follows is deafening. She can only hope that he puts the rest together on his own, because she can’t tell him what she needs to hear from him. She can’t.

“You don’t already know that I’m in love with you, Y/N?”

She inhales sharply. Within seconds, Jin takes the last step that’s keeping any distance between them, and his hand moves to cover hers, stilling her anxious motions.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, gentle as ever, and she can’t do anything but acquiesce. When her gaze meets his once more, her eyes wide and his soft, he says it again. “I’m in love with you.”

Her breath catches. “You are?”

The man before her lets out a laugh, and his smile is wide as he replies, “Of course I am.”

She can’t help it as his words register, and some of the shock wears off — she laughs too, her face flushed, and as Jin’s fingers softly find her cheek, she can’t help but lean into the warmth of his palm.

“I’m in love with you too, if that wasn’t clear,” she manages breathlessly, and the smile on his face only grows.

“Thank god,” he murmurs, his other hand lifting so that he’s cradling her face between his hands. His forehead moves to rest against hers. “Because I really like this sweater.”

Her ensuing whine is promptly cut off as Jin’s mouth finds hers. She parts her lips without thinking, and he tilts her face up to him even further, pulling her into him as close as he can. He continues to kiss her — soft, slow, consistent kisses, one after the other — and she can feel him smiling into each one. His fingers grasp onto the material of her sweater, pulling her ever closer, and she makes a mental note to thank her mom for the sweaters again.

*****

Tagging some loves: @tae-bebe, @moon-write, @sunshinerainbowsbts, @taejinnies, @taehyungsupremacy