#bts rivals to lovers

[theharrowing]

Babyface 🥇 1: Bring it on, Wildflower

An up and coming pro wrestling company hires you to work alongside Kim Seokjin—a rising star in the industry, and everyone’s favorite heel. His arrogance is dashed when he discovers you are not only talented enough to rival his skills, but that he can’t stop thinking about you.

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🥇 Seokjin x Athletic Non-binary (AFAB) Reader 🥇 word count: 8.4k 🥇 rivals to lovers, pro wrestling au, light angst, light fluff, mature, 18+ 🥇 warnings: anxiety and being overwhelmed (general and related to identity), these two are clearly perfect for each other and are both idiots. 🥇 written for the Catch of the Century Collab!  🥇 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 🥇 posted dec. 2022 | read on ao3 🥇 see index for lengthy author notes and small glossary of terms.

Your manager’s words echo through your ears, harsh and uninviting, like salt being ground into a wound. The fluorescent lighting of the large, vacant conference room is suddenly too bright, buzzing under your skin like a poorly connected fuse. You attempt to hold your composure and keep a straight face, but the more his words ricochet, the higher your anxiety spikes. 

"Did you hear me?" Jimin asks after a moment of silence, eyes wide and expectant, watching for any minor change in your demeanor like he always does. “You will be partnering up with Kim Seokjin."

And you do your best to keep it cool, but his eyes drop to your mouth the second your jaw twitches, and his lips turn down into a frown while his attempt to smooth things over borders on frantic. 

“Look, you and I both know he’s a great showman—“

“Jimin, he’s a heel!” 

In all of your career on the women’s team, you were a face—a wrestler the crowd got behind and cheered for; a wrestler loved by all. Joining teams with a heel feels like career suicide. 

“I don’t know how to be a heel,” you groan under your breath.

“You can act, darling!” Jimin bites back, already clearly exasperated by this conversation, pushing a hand through his short, dark brown hair. 

Tears prick your eyes, and suddenly, the air in the room feels too thin to inhale properly—the walls begin to close in. 

“What if the crowd gets the wrong idea,” you mutter, voice cracking around every word. “I was the hero as a woman and now…now I’m the villain.”

“First of all, you are not rebranding,” Jimin offers. “You’re still Wildflower. You just dress less feminine, your hair is short, and your…you know…”

“Tits are gone,” you grumble. 

Jimin hums, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. You know that it is not the topic of your gender-reaffirming surgery that makes him uncomfortable, but his fidgeting stresses you out nonetheless. Jimin has been the only person who has supported you since the day you came out, and he has been by your side every step of the way. 

But Jimin is empathic and sensitive enough for both of you, and often he doesn’t know what to say, for fear of getting it wrong. You don’t blame him; it’s your identity, and sometimes even you get it wrong. Life is strange, like that. 

“I don’t want to work with Seokjin,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. 

“He’s the people’s heel. Everyone loves Seokjin. They love to hate him, and cheer him on when he wins because he has a charming arrogance that draws people to him.”

“He’s insufferable,” you mutter. 

Jimin huffs, “He is actually very kind! You’ve just never given him a chance!”

There are a handful of wrestlers you have never tried to schmooze with, and Kim Seokjin is at the top of the list. People love to kiss his ass and say he is kind and wise, but you know better. Wrestlers rarely sway from their true personalities on stage. Assholes portray assholes. That is how it has always been. At the end of the day, the people's heel is still a heel—the character meant to be hated; the bad guy who always breaks the rules. 

Not to mention, you can count on one hand how many male athletes have given you the time of day. Usually, once they have a taste of fame and it gets to their heads, everyone who isn’t a cishet male may as well be gum on the bottom of their shoe—and often, even their own kind end up treated the same. There is no way Kim—superstar people’s heel—Seokjin is any better. 

With a sigh, Jimin reaches over the table and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Meet with him and his manager tomorrow. If you absolutely hate him, we’ll postpone your comeback and find you another wrestler.”

“I don’t want—“

“You will not get a better opportunity than this,” Jimin interrupts sternly. “Wildflower teaming up with Worldwide Handsome will be the biggest event of the year. You're being offered a spot in the hot, new company that is already expected to rival the others in the division because of its inclusivity alone, and you and I both know tag team matches are bigger than individual matches, which is why they want you as a team. People won’t be able to keep your name out of their mouths; you will be a crowd favorite overnight.”

What is left unsaid—the truth you are not ready to voice out loud, into the universe—is that you are not sure you are good enough to be on a team with Worldwide Handsome Seokjin. He is one of the most talented athletes in the industry today, and it terrifies you to imagine not being able to keep up with him. 

That, and you are not sure how he will take the news that he has to wrestle alongside someone who used to perform as a woman. You dread the things he may say during interviews, even if, by some stroke of luck, he is okay with the idea of working with a non-binary athlete at all. It terrifies you. 

“He gets ten minutes of my time,” you concede, knowing damn well Jimin will not accept such a low number, despite his nodding and eyebrow-raising. 

“That’s all you need,” Jimin lies, squeezing your hand once more. 

You hope like hell that he is right. 

You are made aware of Seokjin’s presence not by seeing him, but by hearing the cheers and claps from everyone outside the conference room the moment he exits the elevator. Even Hoseok, your secretary and second best friend in the whole world stands from his seat, waving frantically with the widest smile you have ever seen, like the traitor he is. 

The chair you sit in is a monster of black leather on wheels that swivels, and you spin yourself in a circle, kicking your feet out and letting them slam into the metal leg of the large conference table before propelling yourself in the opposite direction. As Seokjin approaches, you decide that perhaps sitting in a chair like this while you are anxious is a bad idea, so you get up and move down to the other end to a group of large, leather stationary chairs, taking a seat in one of those, instead. 

With a deep breath, you smooth your hands down your charcoal grey slacks and check your white button-up blouse once more to make sure there are no coffee stains. Then, the door creaks open, and in comes Jimin, followed by Kim Seokjin and his manager, Kim Namjoon. Jimin wears a pink sweater and black slacks that nearly matches the blue sweater and black slacks worn by Seokjin, and Namjoon looks professional as can be in a black button-up tucked into black slacks, with his short, dark brown hair pushed away from his forehead. You stand to greet everyone and tug your lips into a forced smile, and although you are sure your eyes betray you, you do your best to appear happy and collected. 

As Seokjin enters, rather than taking a seat across from you, he walks over, takes your hand in both of his, and bows at the hips, nearly touching your conjoined hands with his forehead. You hesitate but follow suit, and when you stand, looking Seokjin in the eye up close, your heart beats heavily in your chest. Seokjin is, indeed, a very handsome man, and with his short, dark brown hair trimmed just above his brow line, his gaze is very focused.

"Wildflower, we finally meet," Seokjin says as his lips break into a hint of a smile.

Warmth rises to your cheeks. "I suppose it was only a matter of time," you respond softly, unsure whether you can say his stage name with a straight face.

After a beat, you loosen your hold on Seokjin's palm with the hopes of him getting the hint and letting you go. He seems to catch on and he gives you one more small bow before taking the seat beside yours, angling himself to face you.

Jimin hesitates, having expected to be the one to sit next to you, then walks around the table, taking his place beside Namjoon. You sit and angle yourself slightly toward Seokjin, avoiding his knees as you shift around. All of this feels unexpected and perhaps a little too friendly for your first meeting, but you keep an open mind. 

"I have actually been wanting to meet you for a long time," Seokjin begins. To your left, Namjoon and Jimin open files and quietly shuffle around papers, and you do your best to stay focused. "You were absolutely brilliant while shoehorned into the rolls the last company gave you, in the women's division, and when your team made the coming out announcement, I was very excited."

"Oh?" you ask. Your voice is quiet and meek, and you clear your throat, then glance around the room for some water, finding none. 

Seokjin hums. "Your talent and potential are unmatched, but that company didn't favor female athletes, which was a shame. I had actually put in the request several times to be partnered with you, due to your skill level and command over the ring. I was excited to not only receive an offer from the new company, but to find my request finally being granted in a roundabout way."

Seokjin's candor takes you by surprise. There is a sharpness to the way he speaks—an arrogance that you had expected but that makes you shift in your seat. You are also surprised to learn that Seokjin has wanted to work with you before.

"I admit, I know very little about being trans and non-binary," Seokjin continues, "So, for that reason—should you accept our proposal to work together—I hope we can talk openly about the kinds of things you absolutely do not want me to say during promo cuts, interviews, and casual conversations among friends. I do not plan to ever speak for you, but I will be expected to speak about you, and I want to make sure I get it right."

"We have created a questionnaire," Namjoon interjects, pulling your attention to the left, across the table, "so that we can get a sense for how you feel, in the event that you may not be comfortable or ready to discuss anything aloud, today."

A questionnaire feels awkward, and you shake your head, glancing at Jimin, then turn back to Seokjin. "I'm an open book, you can ask me anything now."

"You continue to use your same legal name," Namjoon begins, and you nod, directing your response to Seokjin, who watches you with calm patience. 

"Correct. The concept of a dead name doesn't really resonate with me the way it does for others."

"And you identify as non-binary," Namjoon continues. 

With a nod, you glance at Jimin, whose warm smile gives you strength. It is not as if this topic is difficult to discuss, but this is only the second time you have had to do it for possible contractual purposes.

"Correct," you respond, turning once more to Seokjin. "Trans is also fine, as it is an umbrella term, but I use the term non-binary."

"It's a spectrum, right?" Seokjin asks softly, and you smile, nodding your head.

The conversation continues like this, never getting too invasive with personal questions, but making sure they understand the terminology you prefer, and getting to know a little more about you, personally. Although it is a bit of a rigid conversation, it feels good to get everything off your chest, and you find yourself warming up to the idea of working with Seokjin. 

"So, as you know, I'm a heel," Seokjin says, and suddenly, all of your worries come flooding back. 

"That's right," you say, letting your head droop before you can catch yourself. 

"And you have always been a face," Seokjin continues, to which you nod. "I don't want you to feel pressured to become a heel for me. I wonder if the two of us could keep the different dynamics that we have already been working with. It might be fun if the two of us acted as if we didn't want to wrestle together, but were given no choice."

You mull it over and consider how fun it could be to play-fight with Seokjin while also having to work with him to defeat the other wrestlers. "What if the crowd turns on you, in favor of me?"

A wide grin spreads on Seokjin's face, forcing your breath to hitch. He really is breathtaking with a cheshire smile and a twinkle in his eyes, and you get goosebumps when he leans in close and says, "Bring it on, Wildflower."

"I love this idea," Jimin pipes up, mercifully pulling your attention from Seokjin. You blink rapidly as you turn to face your manager. "Bickering while assisting one another with an elevated jawbreaker. Maybe even distracting one another and getting knocked out by a member of the other team. A fight within a fight!"

"Yeah, honestly, I like the idea a lot," you admit, though, you imagine how difficult it may be to grab someone who is sitting on Seokjin's shoulders by the head. Perhaps an elevated jawbreaker isn't quite the move, but Jimin is certainly onto something. 

"On the issue of your attire," Namjoon adds, "will you continue to wear pink?"

"I would like to," you respond softly. Your outfit has always been pink with blue and silver accents, and, aside from changing the top from a glorified bra to more of a tank top, you like the thought of keeping everything the same. 

"So we'll change my uniform colors, then," Seokjin says, raising his eyebrows to Namjoon.

"If you wish," Namjoon responds. "Perhaps, at first, you should join as a mismatched team, and then over time, change your outfit to match their style?"

If you remember correctly, Seokjin's outfit is a burgundy blouse exposing a deep v-line of skin and white slacks. 

"Sounds good to me," Seokjin says. "Wildflower?"

You hum, turning your attention back to Seokjin, and nod listlessly. "Sure. That could be cool."

"Do you think I'll look good in pink?" Seokjin asks, holding a hand below his chin and fluttering his eyelashes. 

"You'd look good in any color," you respond before you can stop yourself, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. 

Seokjin's eyes widen as he smiles softly, and you curse yourself for being so loose-lipped. You were so determined to hate this man, and here you are, becoming flustered after complimenting him. 

"They don't call you Worldwide Handsome for nothing," Jimin chimes in, and Seokjin's smile grows before he turns to face your manager, though his gaze lingers on you just a bit before he does. 

The rest of the meeting is more formal, with Namjoon and Jimin going over contractual terms. The discussion returns to your identity and pronouns, and how to address you during promo cuts and interviews, but Seokjin assures you that he will always defer to your advice or keep his mouth shut if he is unsure what to say. At the end of the meeting, Seokjin gives you a firm handshake and bows before leaving, and you sit back at the conference table in a daze. 

"Wow, you really stood firm on your unfounded hatred and showed him who's boss," Jimin teases as the door is closed, leaving the two of you alone.

"Shut up," you mutter, unamused. 

"He gets ten minutes," Jimin parrots in the slightly higher-pitched voice which he uses to mock you. "Kim Seokjin is like all the other icky men, and there is no way I'm going to work with him."

You cross your arms over your chest and tongue the inside of your mouth. "Are you finished?"

A grin breaks out over Jimin's pretty face. "For now."

Over the next several weeks, you train like your life depends on it. You already work out a fair amount for an athlete, but given that you are going to make your comeback debut with a tall, strong man who you are likely going to have to do complicated wrestling moves with, you have been taking everything to the next level, focusing on your legs, shoulders, and arms. 

"What if, on opening night, you and Seokjin enter the ring and immediately attack one another before the other team is announced?" Jimin had suggested, setting your panic into motion. 

Sure, you have performed complicated moves with people who were bigger than you plenty of times, but this bout with Seokjin will need to be whiplash-fast and over-the-top if it is going to not only be the crowd's first impression of the two of you as a team, but take place before other wrestlers enter the ring. 

You also have no idea what Seokjin may want to do, and you realize as you stand in front of the mirror of your home gym, drinking water while a towel hangs lazily from your neck, that you have no direct way to get in touch with him. You had not exchanged numbers during the meeting.

Stressed about wanting to discuss your comeback with your new partner, you grab your phone, pause the very loud music playing on your home speakers—currently Cream by Mannequin Pussy—and dial your manager. 

He answers on the first ring. “Yes, my love?”

“Hey, h-how do I get in touch with Seokjin?”

“You never exchanged numbers?”

You stare at your reflection, dumbfounded. “N—what? No. You were at the meeting.”

Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, I was. But I was distracted by the other Kim in the room. Did you hear how deep his voice was?”

Never a dull moment, you think, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeeze your eyes closed. Jimin can be heard chuckling through the phone, which lifts your spirits a bit more—not that you would show any indication of the fact.

"Anyway," you grumble, "can you ask deep-voiced-Kim to give me broad-shouldered-Kim my number? Or pass my number along to them?"

"You think Seokjin has broad shoulders?" Jimin teases and you roll your eyes.

"It is a statement of fact."

"Sure, sure," Jimin continues to chide, then adds, "I'll send your number along right now. Thanks for giving me an excuse to hear that deep voice again, darling!"

You deadpan, "I live to serve," as flatly as possible, biting back a grin as Jimin laughs and hangs up. 

As you wait, you begin flexing in the mirror to check out your gains, as the kids say. Staying at the top of your game is hard work, and you are always proud to see a reflection staring back that looks ideal for the kind of work you want to do. Then your eyes linger on your chest—flat and muscular. It still takes you by surprise at times—makes you do a double-take and stare. How fortunate and grateful you feel to have been able to take such a step in your life, despite all the various risks. 

The sound of your phone dinging pulls you from your thoughts and even makes you flinch. Embarrassed by your jumpiness, you exhale and squeeze your eyes closed for a couple seconds before holding up your phone to find a message from an unknown number.

[Unknown] It has come to my attention that you seek communication with the most handsome man on the planet. 

"Ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, holding back a small smile. Seokjin being obsessed with how good-looking he is has certainly become part of his act, but you wonder how much you can stand the performance outside of the ring. 

You Oh, sorry! I was actually looking for Kim Seokjin.

You nibble on the inside of your mouth as you watch three dots appear and disappear...then appear and disappear...over and over. Rumor has it that Seokjin has a good sense of humor, and you wait in hope that the rumor is true. 

[Unknown] Ah, here I thought I was messaging my pretty, charismatic new partner Wildflower. I guess I have the wrong number. 

You Darn! Well, if you see Seokjin-ssi, let him know I need to talk to him. 

Once again, three dots appear and disappear. Then, your phone rings. You let it go for a bit, drawing out the tension of the moment, then pick up, shifting around on your feet while staring at the floor.

"Yes?"

Seokjin scoffs in response, then simply says, "Wildflower."

You wonder if he will ever greet you by your name, but decide not to question it. "Kim Seokjin-ssi."

"Please, call me Worldwide Handsome Jin."

"Wow," is all you can say in response, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. 

"I hear you request my presence. Miss me already?"

"Hardly," you deadpan, rolling your eyes. "But I would like to discuss our comeback opener. I guess I'm getting antsy about having no plan."

"Agreed. Come by this week? I can order some dinner and we can discuss what we have in mind, and then—if we're not too full—we can practice some moves."

Dinner sounds nice but at Seokjin's place? You wonder if it would be more convenient to find a restaurant close to one of the rings. 

"I'm always down to eat," you respond. "I don't want to put you out, though. We can always find a place near one of the practice rings. Which do you usually reserve?"

Seokjin laughs—a deep, condescending sound. "I have my own ring. Less paperwork and red tape. My dining room happens to be the closest eatery to that location, so it is no trouble at all."

"Oh," you mutter. "Okay."

The conversation cuts after you settle on a date and location. Then, as you let your arm drop to your side and stare at your reflection, reality begins to sink back in. You have to work with Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin's house is massive, and you feel overwhelmed entering the property. Whereas most people you know live in apartment buildings—some very lavish, nonetheless—this man lives on a large swathe of property on a hill just outside the city. Once you arrive, you have to be buzzed into the driveway and wait for a large steel gate to open, granting you access. 

As soon as you park your shabby little car behind a large, shiny sedan, Seokjin's front door opens wide. And before you have your seatbelt unclicked, he is already opening your driver's side door and holding his arms out to you. 

Even while giving a warm welcome, there is something piercing and dark in Seokjin's eyes. Only once during your previous meeting did they soften—when you said he would look good in anything—and you feel scrutinized under his gaze. 

"Welcome!" Seokjin says, pulling you into a hug that is brief but tight, and then turning to lead you into his home. 

He wears a simple white tee tucked into blue jeans, and suddenly you feel overdressed in your crisp black short-sleeve button-up tucked into charcoal grey slacks. You had, of course, packed workout gear in the event that the two of you decide to try out some moves in Seokjin's ring, and you lean back into your open car door and reach across to the passenger seat to retrieve your black leather duffle bag before closing up the car and running to join Seokjin in his foyer. 

"Shall we eat now or later?" Seokjin offers, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

You hesitate, then begin to slip out of your shoes as you say, "I'm actually quite anxious, so I don't have much of an appetite."

Seokjin cracks a smile and says, "Perfect! Let's get changed then, and head to the ring?"

With a soft smile, you nod and follow Seokjin to the left, down a set of stairs into a home gym. Surprisingly, the basement is set fairly deep into the foundation, and you are surprised when you peer toward the far end of the large space and see the ceiling rise even higher above a professional-sized wrestling ring.

"It's excessive, I know," Seokjin begins. "But this home actually belonged to my father. It was his idea to build a mansion large enough to house a ring in the basement. I merely inherited it."

Now that he mentions it, you faintly remember hearing that Seokjin's father had also been a wrestler, several generations back. At the time, you probably brushed off the notion and cited nepotism to Seokjin's rise in fame—ignoring, of course, the pure athleticism it takes to be a wrestler of Seokjin's caliber. Bitter thoughts are rarely rational. 

Seokjin leads you through a home gym that rivals your own, toward the ring. You grip the leather strap of your bag tightly as your eyes flit over the black ropes, off-white canvas floor, and the various black and red padding over the steel beams holding it all together. Rather than having a skirt covering the underside, it sits open, and you spy ladders, folding tables and chairs, and various other things beneath the ring. 

"Bathroom is there," Seokjin says, pointing toward a white door that is cracked open. "Feel free to change and meet me ringside?"

You nod, swallow a lump of nervousness, and head toward the bathroom. Of course, it is a full en suite equipped with a large walk-in shower, and you allow yourself to focus on the details of the room—cream-colored tiles, light marble counters, and gold furnishings—as you untuck your shirt and begin to undress. 

Time blurs as you change into your workout gear—black knee-length spandex shorts and a black tank top over a sports bra, which you continue to wear because you like the familiar squeeze of the tight fabric around your ribs. When you return, holding a pair of sneakers in your hand, you nearly stop in your tracks as you find Seokjin standing bent over against the side of the ring in a tight black tank top and shorts. He is tying a pair of shoes, so you join him and lean your butt against the ring, slipping into your own and keeping your eyes off all the dips and curves of his muscular frame. Seokjin's wrestling costume covers him up to the extent that you are not used to seeing so much skin. 

"We'll do some warmup stretches and then practice some moves?" Seokjin suggests, stepping away from the ring. 

You hum in acknowledgment, pulling your shoelace bow taut and standing up straight. When you turn to Seokjin, he is gazing at you with a straight expression, and you once again feel nervousness under his stare. 

After a brief moment, as if coming out of a trance, Seokjin blinks once, twice, then narrows his gaze. "Over text, I called you pretty. I've been dwelling on it since."

"Oh," you respond, trying to think back to the text conversation. Already, it is a bit of a blur. "I assumed you were being cheeky, so don't sweat it."

"I mean," Seokjin begins but pauses, cocking his head slightly. "I guess, what I mean to say is, I don't know if that's a word you mind being called, because of its feminine nature."

"Oh!" You suddenly feel embarrassed, mostly for not realizing Seokjin may have genuinely been complimenting you. "I don't mind. I still think I'm pretty."

Seokjin hums and nods. "Just let me know if I say the wrong thing."

With a shrug, you begin to stretch, pulling your left arm over your chest while your right hand presses against your upper arm, then alternating. "Stuff like that is kind of whatever. I strive to exist between the realm of pretty and handsome, so being both or neither is perfectly fine. They're words that don't really need to be gendered anyway, you know?"

You're rambling, and you catch yourself, clamping your mouth shut while bringing your right knee up to your chest and pulling it close with both hands. Seokjin stands straight from having been touching his toes and rolls his shoulders back.

"True," he says. "Although I find only 'handsome' applies to me. Never saw myself as 'pretty' before."

As you release your right leg and bring your left knee to your chest, you survey Seokjin's face—keeping your eyes off of his body as much as possible. "I disagree. Your eyes are very pretty. As is your smile. You just have more of a classic masculine prettiness, I suppose."

Seokjin glances up and fixes you with an unreadable look. Then, he begins to squat, dropping his gaze to the floor. You could swear the tips of his ears are a deeper shade of red, and you bite back a smile. 

Stretching continues in silence, save for labored breaths as you begin to do more complicated, strenuous moves. Then, after an indiscernible amount of time, the two of you hop up and down, shaking out your hands, and looking at the ring. 

"Ready?" Seokjin asks with a hint of a smirk.

Truth be told, you are not so sure that you are. As you turn to the ring and approach, your heart pounds so hard, you can hear it booming in your ears. You reach out and grab the bottom rope, feeling the thick layers of tape in your palms, and you squeeze and tug, feeling it pull taut, then release. Without another word, you bend, placing your right arm and leg onto the mat, and roll onto the canvas. 

As you stand and get your bearings, Seokjin grabs onto the middle rope and lifts himself, jumping onto the edge of the canvas with both feet. Then, with a bounce, he flips over the top rope, bounding onto the ring with a boom and causing the padded wooden floor to bounce. You stand stunned, watching as your partner—and rival, for all intents and purposes—gets into position, knees bent and hands in front of his chest. 

"Come at me, Wildflower," Seokjin mutters with a grin, and you hesitate before stepping forward and contemplating your opening move. 

To say Seokjin wiped the floor with you during your first bout would be putting it lightly. In fact, you are pretty sure he went easy on you. Although it was easy to get him into a headlock, as soon as you began to pivot and drop to your knee to bring him to the mat and finish the takeover move, Seokjin lifted you, easily breaking the headlock, and brought you back to your feet—setting you down carefully as if you were delicate—before stepping behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and muttering, "Suplex, tuck your chin," as he brought you both onto your backs.

From there, the two of you called out moves that you were going to try, coming at one another slow enough to make sure you were positioned correctly and that the other had a chance to react. But Seokjin quickly and easily broke out of everything you attempted, and you struggled to make yourself heavy enough for him not to toss around like a ragdoll. 

Sweaty and out of breath, the two of you sit on the floor of the ring. Seokjin has his palms on the mat, anchoring himself up, and he stares at the ceiling with his head back. The long, sweaty column of his neck glistens, and you fight back all thoughts of how biteable it looks while making the mistake of allowing your eyes to trail down to his toned arms, and to the shirt that sticks to his pecs and abs. 

Truth be told, Seokjin is a walking distraction. Attempting to get the upper hand whenever he flashes a smile, or god forbid a wink, feels impossible. And every time his hands grab your shoulders, ribs, waist, or thighs—all perfectly good places grips with no intent but to perform wrestling moves—you feel something inside you stir. 

"I know you're holding back, but that's to be expected," Seokjin mutters. "I was, as well. Let's take a water break and work on choreography?"

You crack a smile, sitting up and stretching your neck from side to side. "Sounds good."

After a quick water break, the two of you begin to choreograph a possible opener. The plan is to come out to the ring from opposite entrances, pissed off and acting as if you want to be anywhere but in the ring with one another. 

Seokjin will ham up to the crowd while you hold your chin up and make your way down the ramp, glaring at him from across the stadium. The announcer will say something about an offensive comment Seokjin made about having to work with you, which will piss you off, causing you to scream profanities at him as you advance. Incensed, Seokjin will begin to run for the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and jumping to his feet, holding his arms out in a challenge, and you will also run to meet him. 

"Can you enter the ring like I did earlier? Flipping over the ropes?" 

You have flipped over the ropes many times in the past, and you nod as you slide from a standing position under the bottom rope and onto the floor. It takes several tries to jump with both feet from the floor to the edge of the canvas, but your legs begin to remember what it feels like. 

The first time you grab onto the top rope and jump to flip, you don't get enough air and nearly topple over. Seokjin makes a move to grab you in case you fall, but you find your footing easily, get onto the bottom rope, and try again, this time making it over the top. 

"Just need to get the hang of this again," you say as you return to the outside of the ropes and stand on the lower one again, positioned to jump. 

Seokjin says nothing, just watches as you flip, reposition, and flip again. After four tries, you stand on the edge of the ring and grab the top rope. As you fling your body over and into the ring, the weightlessness you felt in your early days returns. Before rising to the level of fame that you managed to reach in a short amount of time; before deciding to transition away from the women's team—a move that caused your former employee to fire you—when nothing mattered but the feeling of the canvas-covered wood beneath your feet. The rush of that memory takes hold and carries you to your feet. 

Your land is loud and a bit sloppy, and you stumble slightly into your stance, but Seokjin squares up in his squatted position and lunges as if the landing was perfect, and you pull each other into your starter move, with your hands on one another's shoulders.

"We'll tug one another like this," Seokjin says, warm breath ghosting over your face as you stare at his clavicle—scared to look him in the eye this close. "Take wide steps into a circle, and then you'll attempt to knee me, which I'll kick away."

As Seokjin talks, you slowly move, lifting your leg, which he pretends to kick away. The back and forth comes naturally and you fall into step as if performing a dance you know by heart. You manage to get Seokjin into a headlock and attempt to take him down, but he lifts you and flips you over his back. 

"From here, the referee should attempt to separate us, but we will continue to lunge at each other, until finally, the other team comes out and pulls us off one another, thus starting the tag team match. I imagine we'll both fight a member of their team for a while, and then one of us will retreat to the corner."

Everything seems perfect, and you practice the choreography several times. Then, when you are worn out, feeling satisfied despite being out of practice, Seokjin slides out of the ring and crosses the room to pull his phone from his pants pocket. 

"How does sushi sound," he asks, thumbing around his phone.

"Sounds good," you respond, breathless as you sit in the center of the canvas. Seokjin orders, and you roll unceremoniously out of the ring and follow him up into his house without changing out of your sweaty workout gear. 

He has a plain house with scarcely decorated off-white walls. There are paintings here and there that feel sterile, like something you might see at a therapist's office, and it feels to you like they are simply taking up space and making the large rooms feel less empty. His dining room table is large enough for eight, and he has tan marble counters in his kitchen, on which he sets two plates and two sets of utensils, stacked neatly. 

You take a seat at the table, close to the end nearest the kitchen island, and wait as Seokjin brings everything over. Ordinarily, you would ask if your host needs a hand, but there is something about being alone with him in his large house that has you retreating and sitting quietly, eager to stay out of the way. 

It could also be Seokjin's demeanor. You wouldn't necessarily call him cold, but he isn't really warm, either. Unless he has something constructive to say, he doesn't say much at all, never really engaging in small talk. For years, all people could talk about was how charming and charismatic he is, but the more you get to know him, the more you wonder if those people had ever sat with him like this, one-on-one.

When Seokjin sets the plates down, you jolt. You had been so lost in thought, staring at the lines in the wood grain on the polished table before you that you hadn't seen him approach.

"Jumpy," Seokjin mutters, and you let out a soft chuckle, attempting to dispel some of your anxiety with the breath.

"I get lost in my head sometimes."

"Sorry I'm not very talkative," Seokjin says as he returns to the kitchen. You watch as he opens a large wooden cabinet and takes out two glasses. 

"It's fine," you respond after a pause. "I'm not really, either."

"I know."

Awkward. You lift your hands onto the table and fiddle with your fingers, searching for something to say. Your time in the ring together went well, and you think you made good progress, but those words had already been spoken in the moment, and you don't feel like they bear repeating. Seokjin returns with a glass of water and sets it before you, then he takes the seat beside you. 

"If I weren't mistaken, I would think you hate me," Seokjin says, taking you by surprise. 

When you lift your head, you find him sitting with his body angled toward you and his elbow on the table. His expression is flat, though there is something indiscernible in his eyes, once more. 

"I don't hate you," you respond softly, feeling the urge to get defensive but attempting to tamp it down. 

Seokjin hums and cocks his head. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

You squint and shake your head, straightening your posture to face him better. "No."

"I know that you originally weren't pleased to work with me—" Seokjin begins.

You squeeze your eyes closed and mutter, "Fucking Jimin," under your breath.

"—but I feel like I have been kind and welcoming."

"You have been."

"So what's—"

"Nothing," you say, voice slightly raised and a little clipped. Surprised by your volume, you clear your throat and feel your shoulders shrink inwardly. "There is nothing wrong. I'm sorry if Jimin said I didn't want to work with you...I just...I don't know. Before I met you, I assumed your whole persona was fake."

Seokjin scoffs, pulling your attention back to him, and you find him studying you with a hint of a scowl. Surely, Seokjin cannot be surprised by how his arrogance on stage has translated to others. His moniker is Worldwide Handsome, for fuck's sake. 

Just as Seokjin opens his mouth to speak, the doorbell rings, pulling his attention toward the front door before he momentarily glances back at you and lets out another silent laugh with his mouth open as if he has something he wants to say. You feel the urge to get up and run for the exit, shoving the poor sushi delivery person out of the way and jumping into your car. Instead, you sit feeling dazed as Seokjin's chair scrapes against the floor, and he stands to retrieve the food.

Although it is faint, there is a polite lilt in Seokjin's voice—practiced happiness reserved just for strangers—as he greets the delivery person. Anxiety swirls like acid in the pit of your stomach, and you take a large drink of water. You tell yourself that whatever that conversation was will not easily be resolved and that you should just leave. But when you stand, determined to apologize and thank Seokjin for the training session before taking your leave, he returns with a hint of a smile fading into a confused grimace. 

"Sit," Seokjin says, setting the large plastic bag in the center of the table. "We need to eat after that strenuous workout. I think it's safe to say we were both a little out of our element and need to refuel."

You hesitate but ultimately sit. Then, feeling bold, you stand again.

"Are you sure? I feel like I insulted you; maybe I should leave."

Seokjin does not make eye contact as he continues to undo the flimsy bag and set out plastic containers of sushi rolls and appetizers. He really ordered too much. 

"You didn't insult me," he says toward the food, "It's nothing I haven't heard before. And I would feel worse if you left without helping me eat all of this."

There is a hint of kindness in his voice, but there is also something that seems a little sad. You feel the urge to investigate, but you hardly know the guy and decide that if he wants to open up to you, he will.

But he does not. As you settle back down and begin to eat, you do so in silence. When Seokjin finally does speak again, it is to comment on the various moves you did and to suggest ways to improve the flow. From what little you have gathered as his partner, Seokjin seems to have a brilliance with the way he approaches the ring, and has very quickly adjusted to your weight, height, and strength to attempt to suggest moves that would be easiest for both of you to execute. In fact, you feel like you were hardly contributing, which, in turn, makes you feel bad for letting him do everything. You can't help but wonder if he minds, but you don't really want to ask. Maybe when things feel a little less...tense.

After the meal, you offer to help Seokjin clear everything away. When he declines, you thank him for the meal and excuse yourself, bowing at the hips and turning to the exit. Perhaps it is rude to leave so abruptly, but everything feels weird, and you want to step outside and get some fresh air. Surely, Seokjin will understand, you convince yourself as you shuffle toward the front door.

Footsteps follow you, and you reach for the door without looking back. But then, Seokjin calls, "What about your clothes?" and you freeze in your tracks. You had forgotten your clothing and duffle bag in the basement, and you were even going to leave without putting on the sneakers you walked into the house wearing. 

Without another word, Seokjin runs down to the basement. You walk after him, feeling foolish enough for trying to make a break for it and not wanting to be a deer in the headlights by his front door. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, Seokjin comes from the bathroom holding the strap of your black bag bunched in one hand.

"There you are," he says as he hands it off to you and walks past, back to the top landing. 

You turn on the balls of your feet and pad up the steps, then take off the wrestling shoes and set them bottom-side up on top of your clothes in the duffle before sliding your other sneakers on, wiggling to get the heel of the shoe to stop bending under the weight of your feet. 

"Thanks," you mutter, finding it hard to look Seokjin in the eye.

Seokjin hums and says, "Good work today. We'll do this again soon." Then he walks away, back toward the kitchen. 

With a resolved sigh, you grab the gold handle of his large wooden door and twist. The first inhale of fresh air fills your lungs with reprieve, and you hold it for three seconds, then exhale slowly, feeling yourself become lighter. This day may not have been perfect, but it was productive and worth being proud of, all things considered. Small miracles.

Two hours after returning home From Seokjin's house, you sit freshly showered on your couch, staring at your television while pictures move and sounds follow, unbeknownst to you. You are completely lost in your head, replaying every minute detail of your visit with Seokjin, attempting to make sense of some of it. The more you allow yourself to dwell on it, the worse you feel for the way you behaved. 

If you are being honest with yourself, it was in part because Seokjin feels impossible to read at times, and partly because he is stupid fucking handsome, and it makes your brain come to a screeching halt at times. But how do you tell him that without compromising your relationship as his wrestling partner? Sure he called you pretty in jest, but telling him that his beauty makes your heart race so fast you want to throw up feels a little intense. 

When your phone buzzes, you hardly notice. A tiny voice alerts you to the feeling against your leg, but you continue to stare ahead and attempt to dissect the look on his face after you told him you assumed his personality was fake. You squeeze your eyes closed and groan, scolding yourself silently for saying something like that to him. Then, your phone buzzes again, snapping you from your reverie, and you glance at the screen, expecting to hear from Jimin, and surprised by what you find instead. 

Worldwide Handsome Great work today, Wildflower! We definitely have chemistry in the ring, and I look forward to meeting again to work on our comeback.

Worldwide Handsome Also, please don't worry about what you said. Unfortunately, I think we are both a little awkward. We'll figure it out. 

With a sigh of relief, you smile to yourself. Seokjin is hot and cold, but at least he makes an attempt to communicate, and that is honestly more than you have been able to say for yourself since meeting the guy. 

You I feel really bad for what I said. I should have apologized properly, but sometimes I have a hard time expressing myself to people I don't know very well. It was unfair of me.

You hit send and consider a myriad of things to say, to explain yourself further. But before your thumbs can work out what to send next, your phone lights up with a call. Phone calls always make you feel apprehensive, and you brace yourself with a deep breath before answering. 

"Seokjin," you mutter, but he cuts you off.

"You don't need to apologize. You were right, my on-screen persona is incredibly fake."

There is a bite to Seokjin's voice that sounds matter-of-fact and also a bit harsh. But it does not feel directed at you. At least, you don't think it does.

"I mean, to an extent, all of our in-ring personas are fake," you supply, attempting to squash some of the tension you have felt building between the two of you all day.

Then, Seokjin responds with, "You're more charismatic, for one."

Stunned, your mouth opens, but all you manage to do is squeak out a weak sound. "I'm—oh. Okay."

"I almost bought into your awkward, manic-pixie-dream act, you know? But then I thought about how different you were in the ring and out of the ring at my house, and it's pretty clear that you just don't like me."

Seokjin's reasoning hardly makes sense, but all you can bring yourself to respond with is, "What?"

"It's fine. Whatever. We only have to work together; we don't need to be friends. And I meant what I said, we do have in-ring chemistry together. We can work on our awkwardness for the camera and avoid each other, otherwise."

The tone of this conversation is nothing like what you had expected, considering his text messages seemed so kind and understanding. But, then again, it is always difficult to tell someone's intentions over text. And, as you are coming to discover, Seokjin is an arrogant asshole, after all.

"Fine," you huff with a sigh, resolved not to argue. If Seokjin wants nothing more than a working relationship with you, then that is all he is going to get. 

"I can speak with our managers and find us suitable sparring partners for the time being, if you would rather not practice with me," Seokjin offers, rubbing salt in wounds you didn't realize you had. 

"Don't bother," you grit into the phone. "We'll work together just fine. And Worldwide Handsome?"

Seokjin hums into the receiver, and you sense surprise in his tone. 

"You had better bring your A-game because our so-called fake rivalry is very fucking real, I am going to make you regret talking to me like this."

As you pull your cell phone away from your ear and hit the end call button, there is a quake in your hands, your ears begin to ring, and all sensation feels both non-existent and overwhelming, all at once. Seokjin is going to rue the day he made you his rival, and you are going to make sure he knows it. 

tags: @btsiguess-kpop @btsstan12 @codeinebelle@dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki​ | this is a limited run series, but if you would like to be tagged, comment or dm!

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#seokjin x reader #seokjin angst #bts angst #btswritersclub #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #bts rivals to lovers #fic: babyface

[haeggi]

the gift and the gifted | myg ✓

➔ pairing: top student!yoongi × top student!reader

➔ genres/warnings: highschool!au, christmas!au, holiday!au, romcom!au, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, suggestive themes (but there's no smut, woops), also yoongi wears glasses bc my babie is so cute and hot when he wears one, lots of cussing prolly, some jokes may be offensive, reader and yoongi basically wants to strangle each other's necks bc yes.

➔ word count: 12.9k

➔ synopsis: you were always at the top; girls envied you and they aspired to be like you, and you got guys swooning at your feet. but there was always a particular individual who followed your footsteps. min yoongi. everywhere you were, he always shadowed you. he always came in second to you, and just like you, he also had become the primary cause of ladies getting diagnosed with erotomanias (metaphorically, of course). but everything crashes downhill when your roles are suddenly switched; he ends up at the top, and you below him. how messed up could that be?

or alternatively, christmas was just around the corner, and all it takes are the midterms (which will be a piece of cake to you) before the semester ends. however, the christmas news you receive that year was one of the worst gifts yet. let's say, it went catastrophic because the gift came in the form of min yoongi, your biggest rival.

notes: this is my first ever tumblr ff ajshssk. it's raw and unedited, so expect a lot of grammar mistakes.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

According to statistics of an unknown source, a lot of experts believe that the global population is composed of between 2% to 6% of gifted children. Such child prodigies are blessed with naturally high inborn intelligence. They perform significantly at complex levels compared to peers.

You belonged in the 2 to 6% of that category. At the fresh age of two, you were able to read novels that are typically for adolescents. You also already knew how to write children stories, your imaginations constantly spreading as if you were using a hex in your mind, expanding your thoughts into a whole new wide level.

Yes, that was indeed a Marvel reference.

Oh, you started watching the series by the time you were three, by the way. Whenever your parents kissed you goodbye to report to their jobs, you would bake pancakes while standing on a stool because you were still too tiny to reach the top of the kitchen counter. Afterwards, you would waddle into the living room, turn on the TV, and bask into a three-hour Marvel movie.

You would also laugh at the adult jokes that were made that even most adolescents wouldn't get, yet there you were, being a couch potato, sipping on maple syrups while giggling at the scenes.

And by the time you were four, you knew all your basic math. You could also spell complicated words already such as pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (man, I literally had to copy-paste that from Google, smh). You also have memorized all the countries of Asia and Europe, and the parts of the human's and plants' cells—not just the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell basic and overused shit.

But most importantly, you definitely had attitude problems. You had a blunt tongue and a sharp wit.

"I don't want to go to school," your five-year-old-self whined burying your small head further into the pillow. "I don't need to," you add, muffled.

"Honey," your mother sighed, inviting herself in your bedroom. She knew how much you despised it whenever someone crossed your personal space, yet you were too whine-y to even fight your mother. "I know that, but you still need to. The world is too big for everything to fit in your brain—"

"Are you calling me small?" you grimaced, exhuming your head from the pillow and whipping it at your mom's direction. "Mom, you know how much I'm sensitive when it comes to my height!"

"Yes, dear, I apologize—"

"I don't wanna hear it, mom! My decision is final, I don't wanna go to kindergarten!" you yelled, albeit your voice was muffled because you stuffed your face into your pillow again.

"Kindergarten?" your mother repeated. "Y/N, I never said anything about enrolling you to kindergarten. I was planning to apply for your acceleration for elementary—"

"Mmmooommmm!" you groaned, almost sounding like a wolf, but to your beloved mother, you just sounded like a pup. "Leave me alone, please! I know my geometry, I can solve the area of a rectangle, a square, a decagon. Even a gazillion-gon or whatever! And I know how to use similes, metaphors, hyperboles, and ironies!"

"Clearly," your mother muttered under her breath. "With how sharp your tongue is, I'm not even surprised."

The woman flinched when a soft piece of fluff landed before her feet. It was one of your stuff toys, Mr. Bear-able.

She resisted the urge to massage her temples, catching what her daughter was implying. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone. But if you ever change your mind, tell me."

"I don't do do overs, mom," you retorted, suddenly having the appetite to get out of bed. You waddle towards your desk, plopping on the seat with your back turned to your mother. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a lot to do."

"Of course," your mother responded. "Come down for dinner at seven. Don't. Be. Late," she warned.

"Yes, mother," you stressed the last word.

Hearing the door shut close, you released a sigh of relief, finally grateful for the time of peace.

But, unfortunately, for gifted children, peace was a state they rarely achieved.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Ten years later, you are now enduring the third year of high school. And ten years ago, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't step foot into a school. Ever. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the hallway, flooded with lots of people your age. Jocks and cheerleaders mostly flocked the lockers, some of which are busy slamming each other against each one, their faces all over each other.

It was a disgusting sight to you, but you are used to it now. You know not to pry into their business and scream at them to stop the eff out. One, because you were simply lazy—or rather, conserving energy is the right term. Second, they weren't worth your precious time.

Yes, it was your third year in high school, but also it was only your third time attending school because for the last seven years, you had been cooped up within the four walls of your bedroom. You never stepped foot out the door, except when you ate. You were either sleeping, writing, or just aimlessly scrolling on Twitter and Tiktok.

It had gotten to the point where your mother barged into the room with your father following her like a lost puppy, because he didn't want to deal with you because he was either 1) really, really afraid of you or 2) he just didn't really want to deal with an untamed animal that was in the form of you. Yet, he followed your mother to your room because 1) he was definitely still more afraid of his wife more than of his daughter and 2) he probably wants to witness your demise.

And you did get your demise. You got an earful from your mother. She had confiscated your phone, pulled you out of your room and locked the door. She was getting sick of you acting around as if you were the boss. As if you were the adult.

Yeah, you definitely had (still have, by the way) attitude problems.

And the only condition that your mother had so that you could gain access back to your room and phone is if you enrolled at school, got a degree, and a decent job.

So here you were, in the very hellhole you didn't want to end up in.

On the bright side, you are still a gifted child, and hell did you demolished everyone in your path. Academically, of course. Consistently, you were the overall top one of your batch from first year to second year. You were always the top scorer in examinations. You were also literally destroying your teachers' careers, which basically made almost everyone love you. Almost.

You got guys begging for your attention, wanting to take you out on dates. You also got girls envying you, wanting to be you. And also, of course, you had haters.

And most significantly, you had competition.

He was always there, wherever you were. You were on the list of top scorers, and underneath your name, just right next to it, was his name printed. You were the overall top one, and below you, just beside you, was his name written.

You were the first, and he always came in second.

Your eyes were literally burning in crimson when you saw him entering your line of sight. His jet black hair was neatly styled as usual, his pale skin was glowing underneath the fluorescent lights, his eyes were adorned with round-rimmed glasses, accentuating his clever ambience further.

It made your blood boil; the way he was just calmly walking through the crowd of students. He didn't even make an effort passing through the bodies because people made way for him. Of course, they would. He is the fucking student council president, for hell's sake!

Your arms are crossed, still staring him down as he greeted and bowed to those who smiled at him. Oh, how badly you wanted to rip his mouth off of his face and smack it to the first girl you see because she would definitely pay you at least ten years worth of your life, then you can finally ditch school, maybe disappear off the surface of the map and enjoy a life of solitude in probably an abandoned island, sipping on mojito, or maybe the mountains to enjoy the fresh air of nature because the air down there smelled like pieces of shit—

"Y/N," he singsongs, his gravelly voice reaching your ears.

You didn't notice that you had been standing at the middle of the hallway for quite a long time now because he, along with a few of the other student council members trailing behind him, was now in front of you. You notice everyone's eyes are on you two. Everyone knew of the rivalry you two have. And you also knew that they are totally anticipating a war to happen.

"Yoongi," you say, your tone honeyed with a hint of passive-aggressiveness.

"How was your weekend?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Oh, he is definitely enjoying the attention. Just so you wait, I will rip your fakeass smile—

"It was okay!" you chirp, faking a laugh. "I hope yours was too."

Yoongi hums, fixing his glasses that had slightly slid down, exposing his feline eyes for a fleeting moment. "Fortunately, it went more than okay to me," he says with a pompous smile.

Your verbose response is a forced smile, hoping that he will take the hint that he will leave you alone now, because you knew what he was referencing to. The recent weekend, both of your families had dinner together. Unfortunately for you, your parents and his parents are very well-acquainted with each other. Mr. and Mrs. L/N, and Mr. and Mrs. Min's relationship was founded through a business partnership. Despite that, the relationship between the four adults ensued into a deeper level.

Alas, the same couldn't be said with the two offsprings. While their parents considered each other close friends, you and Yoongi acknowledged the other as each other's nemesis.

Everything between you and him always ended up to become a competition. A competition to see who gets on the other's nerves the quicker.

That was why on that particular Saturday night, in a fancy restaurant booked by Yoongi's parents, underneath the rectangular marbled table, you used the advantage of wearing heels that time to sink one of your stilettos on one of his leather shoes when he taunted you. Afterwards, he made a scene, instantly pointing a finger at you when his mother worriedly asked what happened. You promptly defended yourself, saying that it was an accident and that you didn't notice his foot immediately. Then, your beloved mother scolded you in front of them to be more careful because it was bad manners; and that you should act like a proper lady in a five-star Michelin restaurant.

Luckily, he starts to leave you, but only after making up an excuse. "Well, I'm a bit late with my duties, I can't waste time any longer. So, I'll see you later."

He attempts to walk past you, but you had enough time to recover from his pettish outro. As he takes the first steps, you mislead him by moving aside. Then, you slide your foot forwards, miniscule. You watch as his own bumps into yours and in a span of a second, he trips, albeit he regains his balance quickly to your dismay. You almost pouted since he didn't meet the floor with his face.

His calm composure cracks a tiny bit, his eye twitching as he looks at you, his expression now displaying irk. He expected everyone else to look at you as if you were the culprit, but unfortunately, for his part, no one noticed because it is too crowded in the hallway for anyone to catch what you did. Instead, they all had their gazes at him. Some of them awkwardly smiled, while others began to whisper.

Nevertheless, Yoongi ignores them. He stands up straight, fixing the collar of his shirt before waltzing away with his group trailing behind. Unlike earlier, he was tramping, eager to flee the scene and rendering you into a fit of hushed and inconspicuous giggles.

Not today, Snow White. Not today.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You are stuck in another hour of a boring lesson. You lazily spin a pencil around your fingers, with one hand supporting the weight of your chin as you stare outside the window of your classroom, observing the varsity soccer players attempting to score goals.

You unconsciously snicker when one of the players falls on the grass, catching the attention of your math teacher. It took two calls of your name before you faced her, scowling when she says, "Since you seem so confident, not listening to my discussion, will you please be so kind to solve this on the board?"

You raise an eyebrow, looking at her as if saying 'Are you serious?' The teacher doesn't falter, however, and you sigh vexatiously, standing up from your seat and idly ambling across the aisle. You feel the stares of your classmates piercing at your back but you don't waver. Upon reaching the front, you take the marker from your teacher, whose face was still etched into a frown at the behavior you are showing.

You solve the polynomial equation with ease, not even pausing to think. And when you encircled your final answer and turned to return your teacher's marker, she was gaping at you. Smirking in victory, she tells you to return to your seat. And for the rest of the lecture, she doesn't bother you anymore.

After school, you went straight out of the campus, as if the air inside the building had been suffocating you that you even release a long sigh of relief. Frankly, you thought that you had wasted another day because you didn't learn anything new from any of your subjects. All that was discussed, you already know those concepts since you were ten years old.

And now, you wanted to throw a tantrum at your mother when you get home.

You head for the gates of the campus, and as if you didn't have enough on your plate, a car comes revving near you, and before you knew it, it blocks your path, making you abruptly halt your steps. You instantly recognize the model of the vehicle. The driver's door opens and a familiar black bob of hair is revealed. You don't even try to hide your irritation when Yoongi approaches you.

"Get in the car," he demands, opening the passenger door right in front of you.

You don't listen. Instead, you comment, "Nice calculations there. Which theorem did you apply that made the passenger's door end up in front of my face? Show me your scratch papers."

He rolls his eyes, clearly not having your shit. "My mom called me and told me that your mom told her to tell me that I'm dropping you off at your house because your mom is worried that you'll be off somewhere else again and cause trouble, so she wants to make sure that you're not going to do anything stupid again—"

"Hold your horses, Eminem." You flail your hands in front of him. "First of all, drop the your mom tongue twister. Second, I'm not coming with you. Who knows? You might be plotting my death. And third, stop talking to me because people might think that we're friends."

Without waiting for Yoongi's response, you swaggered around his Hyundai Sonata, heading for the campus gates. Relief washes over you when you don't hear the annoying honking of his car. He had left you alone for now.

Besides, how worse could your day get any further?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Your bag drops to the floor once you have registered the sight of your mother guffawing at a joke he said. They were both too occupied in their conversation that they only sensed your presence when you make a beeline for the stairs.

"Y/N," your mother calls, and you stop in your tracks, one foot mid-air. You curse lowly, not being able to even make it for the first tread.

You put on the fakest smile you could muster, making sure that it was discernible that you didn't want to have to do anything with the two most exasperating persons in the room.

"Aren't you gonna join Yoongi and I for snacks?" she says, rendering you to fist your hand. It took a lot of strength from you not to swing a punch at the said male. He was clearly enjoying this. He absolutely knew that you were getting reprimanded again once he leaves the premise.

Your smile twitches, almost cracking but you stay firm. "Sure, I will. Mother." You deliberately stressed the last word. A warning gaze is given to you by your mother.

Smirking lightly, you don't tiptoe anymore, seeing that it was useless. You pull the chair across where Yoongi sat, purposely making the wood screech against the floor. Your mother winces slightly that made you smile triumphantly.

As if nothing had transpired, your mother began to speak. "So, Yoongi here told me that you refused to get a lift from him. You do know that that's basic manners."

"Yes, and you told me not to accept anything from strangers," you deadpan. Your mother's eyes widen in horror, instantly sending Yoongi an apologetic gaze.

"Oh, Yoongi, I'm so sorry about my daughter. I think she meant that she didn't want to a burden to you."

Yoongi waves his hand, a cheeky smile painted on his lips. "It's alright, Mrs. L/N. I get what you mean. I absolutely understand where Y/N is coming from."

Your head was beginning to ache from the exchange that was occurring between the two people you weren't entirely fond of. Before your mother could respond to your nemesis, you cut in.

"Why is he even here, mom?" you demand. Your mother chuckles awkwardly, looking back and forth between you and your enemy.

"Well," she starts. "Your midterms are nearing alongside the weather that is starting to cool off. I invited Yoongi so that you two could study together and maybe consider this as a bonding moment for the two of you—"

You don't let her finish, abruptly standing up from your seat, already shooting daggers at the woman who birthed you.

"Mom, I don't need a study buddy. I can clearly study fine on my own. In fact, I don't need to because I know everything and I assure you that I will ace my midterms just like I've had for the past two years."

Mrs. L/N frowns at your response. "Y/N, if you please, will you stop with the bratty attitude? We have a guest and the least you can do is act accordingly!"

You are certain that your blood had reached its boiling point. "No!" you raise your tone, unbothered by the fact that your rival is literally witnessing the argument that is transpiring right now. What irked you more was that he is probably enjoying the scene unfolding before him. "You're just doing all of these because you know how much I despite it! I hate it, mom. And I absolutely harbor all of the ill feelings you can name towards him!" You point at Yoongi, who is calmly watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

As far as you know, only your parents knew that you loathed Yoongi. That was why you were always comfortable expressing it even in their presence. But whenever his parents were at the scene, that was when you could control your temper, and suppress your irritations, which is why now, you were exploding once again.

"Y/N—!"

"I'm not hearing it," you proclaim, already making way towards the stairs. "Chit-chat with him for all I care. Just leave me be."

You stomp upstairs, making sure you slam your bedroom door shut. Smoke was literally smothering out of yours ears and nostrils as you grabbed the nearest book you had from your shelf and throw it with all your might at the other end of your room. Then, you march towards your bed, falling on it face-first and releasing your screams, muffled by your pillows.

You are so angry and infuriated, mentally wrecking Yoongi with all the curses you could think of. After what seemed like hours of disparaging him in the form of talking to your long-time best friend, Mr. Bear-able, you feel your throat become dry. It is parched and you feel the need to gulp down a gallon of water with how much saliva you used.

Annoyed that you had to leave the comfort of your room to get a glass of water downstairs, you wonder if Yoongi had already left. You check outside, raising the blinds of your window. Then, you grimace, seeing the familiar vehicle parked in front of your house.

Why was that son of a half-troll still here?

You really didn't want to go down and see him, but your throat was literally begging for your thirst to be quenched. You try to weigh the pros and cons, with the cons definitely outweighing the former, but you were still too thirsty. It was sending you to the brim of annoyance so you had no choice but to step out of your room.

Your ears try to hear for movements and conversations, but when you don't, you thought that maybe they were in the backyard. You sigh in relief, albeit too early because when your feet touched the floor of the first floor of your house, you almost lost your balance upon seeing the devil himself standing by the stairs' handrails. The balusters did the job of concealing him because his face is already adorned with a smirk.

"Why the fuck are you here?" you demand. "Where's mom?"

"Out," Yoongi simply answers, sipping on his iced Americano.

"Why?" You cross your arms, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"She felt bad about your tantrum—" he explains nonchalantly. "—so, she insisted to take-out dinner."

"Why didn't you just come with her? That would save us both the case of fighting—"

"I offered to stay and look after you in case something happens, although your mom was still really worried for me in case you might pull something against me. But I assured her that I would be fine." He blinks as if his response was a normal one.

However, you don't buy it, narrowing your eyes and taking a defiant step closer to him. "What are you scheming this time? Wasn't it enough for you that you got to witness me getting reprimanded?"

Yoongi doesn't seem affected because he stands his ground, his eyes reciprocating the determined gaze you were giving him.

He doesn't answer you, and he breaks your eye-contact, looking at something behind you.

"Hey, I asked you a question—"

"It's snowing," he cuts you off.

Mildly confused and musing a what, you turn around to check what he was looking at. And then you see the first fall of snow of the year. Immediately, you feel the chilly breeze of winter prick your skin.

Eyebrows still furrowed, you only move when Yoongi scurries off towards the heater, turning it on. After a few seconds, the cold that you instantly felt is replaced by warmth. Still, you were on edge, because Yoongi was acting really... weird.

You watch him with judgment in your eyes as he makes his way towards the dining room. That's when you see study materials sprawled on the table; Stabilo highlighters with their caps off, arrow sticky notes pasted on top of pages of the textbooks, reviewers spread all throughout the space of the table. He had been clearly studying for midterms. You were disturbed that he had shamelessly claimed territory on your dining room.

You feel the bile crawling up your throat, you are cognizantly displeased at the way Yoongi was acting. You march towards the room, where he was busy organizing his notes.

"Hey!" you squawked. "Will you stop walking around as if this is your house?! And... can you stop that? You're acting weird..." you trail off when Yoongi doesn't even snap at you. He only looks at you as if you were the strange one in the room.

You roll your eyes, opting to get your glass of water from the kitchen instead. If the damn bitch won't respond to you properly then you won't bother to waste your time.

Closing the refrigerator, with one hand holding the pitcher, you jump the second time that day, caught off-guard by your rival standing behind the door of the refrigerator.

"Jesus Christ, Yoongi!" you yell. "I will literally smack you in the face with this pitcher!"

"Huh," he muses. "That's really weird."

"What?" you say in disbelief. "Don't call me weird when between us, you're the one that's acting weird. Fucking leave me alone, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah, exactly." He remains unfazed by your threats. "Strangely, I don't feel anything towards you right now."

"Of course you don't," you scoff. "You hate me. Hello? Have you suddenly become stupid or something?"

Seemingly lost in thought, Yoongi replies, "No, I mean like I literally don't feel anything right now towards you. I don't feel like I hate you right now—"

"Yes, I hear you. Now can you shut the fuck— wait what?" You pause and do a double take on what he just said.

What did he say? That he doesn't hate me right now?

"Look, I don't know what the fuck it is your scheming right now, but I just want to tell you to drop your crap, because I don't believe a single word you're uttering right now," you say, pouring water on a glass. You take a sip before resuming. "Stop saying bullshit, because I won't fall for it."

"I'm not telling you bull right now." He raises both of his hands in surrender. "Ugh, whatever. You probably have the mental capacity of a lizard for you to understand even if I explain—"

"Take that back right now," you threaten him. "Have you forgotten that you always come second to me? Don't get too cocky, you still don't know who you're messing with. It's been three years, you should know now that you can't beat me."

"Whatever you say so, Megamind." He fixes his glasses before returning to the dining room. You warily watch him go back to studying before you climb up back into your room.

Even though you were already inside, you still felt uneasy because of how peculiar Yoongi acted just a few minutes ago.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The gray cement road is replaced with the ivory snow, concealing everything underneath it. It's now the month of November, which meant that your parents are busy preparing for the holidays. That also meant that you had to help them too to your dismay.

You are sitting on your house's porch, a stick in your hand while doodling on the snow. Meanwhile, your father is occupied in attaching the Christmas lights on the gutters of your roof.

He calls your name, and you oblige. You step foot out into the snow weather, bits of frost coating your hair. You crane your neck up the ladder.

"Can you pass me the other string of lights?" he requests, pointing at the said lights sprawled on the snow. You grab it off the floor, taking the end of it. You spin it like a lasso before unleashing it towards your father, who catches it with ease. He laughs, "Nice one!"

You roll your eyes before returning to your earlier position. You begin to scribble again as your mind wanders off somewhere else.

For the past few weeks, you had noticed that something became different. And it was all because of a particular person who was supposed to be the hell of your life. Instead, it seems like he had now become pacified, and he decided that you weren't worth his time anymore.

A part of you feels extremely offended and infuriated because you feel that Yoongi doesn't see you as a menace anymore; that he was now confident that he can easily defeat you; that he doesn't see you as a competition anymore. Another of your part feels concerned and peculiar—as if something is missing. You don't feel the adrenaline pulsating through your veins anymore whenever you saw Yoongi.

When you crossed paths, he would only give you a smile of acknowledgement and then leave before you could even tell him a snarky comment.

Oddly, it was affecting you more than it should be. You were starting to think that maybe this was one of his tactics for you to get distracted. If it was, it was unfortunately working, and you were getting vexed as each day passed by.

You wanted Yoongi to lash out on you. You wanted to feel his anger radiating towards you. You wanted him to feel threatened. You wanted to be the one with the upper hand.

But instead, you were feeling none of those from him. It was rendering you to madness because even though you wanted to deny it so bad, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

And maybe, just maybe, you thought that something different was also brewing inside you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

November flew by in a blur and before you even knew it, you only had two weeks before midterms. You and your mother were busy setting up the Christmas tree. She was busy handing you the ornaments and garlands, and directing you where to place them.

"There," your mother says. "A little bit up. Nope, down. Nevermind, put it up again."

You groan in annoyance. "Mom, can you please make up your mind? My arms are starting to sore."

She gives you a sheepish smile from below. You feel goosebumps pricking your skin, disturbed by your mother's expression. It was the first time you saw that kind of smile from her.

"You're creeping me out," you say.

"Oh, it's nothing," your mother tells you. "It's just... recently I've noticed how you seem at peace now unlike before. It's nice..." she hesitates a bit but when she sees you only looking at her and listening intently, she finds the courage to express to you, "It's nice that we're finally having a mother-and-daughter bonding experience since... I don't know, maybe since you were one?"

You laugh. You actually laugh genuinely at what she says. You climb down the ladder, dusting your hands on your sweater. Peace. A word that its meaning which you know, but don't know what it feels. It is a foreign feeling and peculiar. Only then when your mother notices it you realize that maybe that was the right word you were looking for to describe your interiority right now.

But as soon as you take cognizance of it, your mother crashes it when she lets you know the news.

"Yoongi's family is having dinner with us on the Eve," she informs you, and your smile stiffens. "I expect that you'll be on your best behavior."

She looks at you expectantly, and it was enough to let her know that you aren't fond of the idea because you say,

"I'd rather be a Christmas feast to a cat, honestly."

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"To be honest, I'd rather feast on a mouse, mom," Yoongi says when his mother informs him their plan for the evening of Christmas Eve.

She laughs heartily. "Why would you say that, dear? Is it because of Y/N? Are you still uptight around her because of her gift?"

Yoongi shudders at the mere mention of your name for some unknown reason that he couldn't decipher. He denies it, shaking his head.

Then, her mother's eyes sparkled. She leans forward and whispers, "Then... have you gotten fond of her? You seem to be more nervous than before, Yoongi. Whenever we spend time with the L/Ns, you always seem so determined, and you look forward to spend time with their family. Why do you seem so uneasy now?"

"Err, it's not that, mom." Yoongi tries to distract himself by sipping on his iced Americano, but that doesn't ease his nerves. He regrets ordering his usual drink on the cold season because his shivering is amplified. "It's just... midterms' soon, and I'm just stressed, I guess."

"Stressed?" His mother repeats. "That's the first time I've heard that word from you, dear."

"Is it?" Yoongi chuckles awkwardly.

Mrs. Min emits another lighthearted laugh. "Yoongi, I know you more than anyone else. Don't even deny it, you have taken quite a liking for the L/Ns' daughter, haven't you?"

Yoongi gapes at his mother's proclamation. He immediately shakes his head vehemently. "Mom, that's ridiculous. Of course, I haven't. She hates me." At the last sentence, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But his bitter tone doesn't come unnoticed to his mother.

"Does she?" she innocently asks.

"Yeah." Yoongi sighs, pressing his lips into a thin line that resembled a bracket. It was a habit of his whenever he feels displeased. "She hates the mere sight of me, mom. And we compete for the first place, every time. She hates the fact that I'm always second to her because she's threatened that I might overthrow her anytime! It's annoying to be honest. But now, I'll just let her have her way. I'm just going to focus on studying for midterms. She's not worth my time, anyway."

Of course he was half-lying. He wanted nothing more but to continue this rivalry you two had. But these days, he had been in conflict with his inner self. He didn't want you having your way, he wanted to conquer you. But also, another side of him is troubling him. He didn't want to continue fighting you any longer for some reason. Yoongi doesn't know if he simply got tired of it or if it was because of something else that he couldn't pinpoint.

Either way, he didn't want to interact with you for the mean time. He had to figure whatever the shit was happening to his brain. Had he finally lost it?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You were serene as usual when midterms ended. You can't help but feel pride swelling on your chest as you listened to your classmates' complaints and sighs of regrets because they had a lot harder time getting through each question of the exams than you did.

But somehow, there was something missing; the thrill. Your mind wanders to your nemesis, wondering how he did in his exams.

When you were all dismissed, the hallways are instantaneously filled with students, celebrating their triumphs and the fact that they were now free from school. Instinctively, you try the look for a familiar midget with black bob hair and round-rimmed glasses.

And when you do see him, a smirk makes its way to your lips. You march confidently to his way. He doesn't notice your presence until you blocked his way, causing him to look up from his phone to acknowledge you.

"Hey, Potter," you drawl, playing with the ends of your hair. He rolls his eyes at the nickname you call him.

"What do you want?" he straightly gets to the point. You raise an eyebrow, a bit caught off-guard by his question.

That was a good one because yeah, what the hell did you want? Why did you approach him in the first place?

Yoongi unintentionally saves you from the embarrassment. His feline eyes narrow and he smugly smiles. "Oh, are you concerned about how I did well in my exams? Are you perhaps... threatened?"

You scowl, pointing a finger at him. "Don't get so brazen. I'm just here to tell you not to feel too self-assured. I know what you've been up to lately. You've been trying to distract me by not acknowledging my presence for the past few weeks. You think that that's all it takes for me to back down? Nah-uh. Nice try, Yoongi, but try harder."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, fascinated at your assumptions. "So, that's what you've been presuming." Then, he shrugs, "Look, doll, I don't know where such thoughts of yours suddenly came from, but I'm just saying that that sounds like a you problem. I'm not doing anything, but it seems like you're turning into one of them, having delusions about me."

You cringe and sneer. "You can't be serious, Yoongi. Now, you're the delusional one!" The way he was smirking victoriously made you want to slap the mocking smile off of his face.

You decide to end the interaction, curtly pivoting on your heels and strutting away from Yoongi, whose piercing eyes never left your figure until you disappeared from his line of sight.

In the back of his mind, he is contemplating. He ponders if you were right. For the first time in his lifetime, he was considering what you said.

Meanwhile, you were stomping on piles of snows. You were furious at the lack of energy Yoongi was showing you. He really seemed like he didn't give a damn anymore about you. He was so laid-back and relaxed and that made your confidence dwindle a bit, wondering what had he pulled from his sleeves.

Your mood remains sour the whole time you walked home. People who passed by you probably thought that you were releasing dragon breaths if not for the freezing weather.

You were basically tramping on the floor of your living room, immediately catching the attention of your mother, who scampers out of the kitchen to check out the commotion. She sees you muttering incoherent words to yourself and you only stop when she gets your attention.

"Did something happen, Y/N?" she questions. "Why are you in a sour mood? Did something happen with your exams?"

"No, mom!" you immediately answer. "In fact, I aced the exams, I'm certain! You don't need to worry about anything. It's just that—" you abruptly stop. Your mother looks at you, waiting for you to continue but you don't.

Frankly, you're confused yourself, suddenly wondering why were you so worked up. You didn't have to worry about anything, you were a hundred percent confident that you did outstandingly in your exams.

"Y/N?" Your mother's voice pulls you out of your trance.

"It's nothing!" you exclaim. "Just tired. I'm going to my room, if you don't mind." You start going up the stairs. "Call me if you need help." Your voice echoes in the first floor.

Mrs. L/N blinks, finding your behavior strange lately. Yet, she shrugs it off and goes back to working in the kitchen.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"Y/N, please stop harassing the carrots," your mother says. "They did nothing to you."

You stop cutting the vegetable, noticing that indeed, the whole carrot was now mashed. You sigh, not realizing that you've been cutting angrily.

"If you're not in the mood, I can cook myself. You can go on and set the table instead."

You don't argue, abandoning the knife and mashed carrots before making way towards the cabinets where your mother kept the utensils for special occasions.

It was finally the day of your impending doom. Christmas Eve. Dinner with the Min family, and honestly, you didn't know what to feel. The last time Yoongi visited was when you and your mother had an argument right in front of him. It was also the day everything changed. You wonder if the argument that transpired traumatized him, rendering him to madness. Or maybe he was diagnosed with a disorder.

There I go again. Why the hell am I even thinking about him? Focus at the task at hand, Y/N—

You reach out for the stack of plates but one of them slips from your grasp, clattering and breaking on the floor. Your mother jumps, and she starts to scold you as you bent down and picked up the broken pieces.

"Y/N, seriously, what is going on with you?" she exclaims. "You've been so out of it!"

You sigh, fluttering your eyes close for a moment. When you open them, you wince, suddenly feeling blood rushing towards your index finger. You look down and see rivulets of ruby spilling out of your skin.

Mrs. L/N notices your trance and she follows your gaze. Her eyes widen and she gasps, instantly ushering you to rinse your wound and put a band aid on it.

You obey, grabbing the opportunity of ephemeral peace. In the bathroom, you dab the small laceration with Betadine, before wrapping it up with a band aid. Then, your ears register the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the door.

It didn't take you long to realize that the Min family has entered your residence. And that meant, Yoongi was also here. Your last interaction with him was at the school hallway, where you two had a small argument about which one of you was the delusional one. It was an awkward one, to be honest. It didn't feel like your previous fights.

You slap your forehead with your wounded hand, wincing and mentally cursing yourself because of your stupidity. It was ironic, to be frank. You were gifted with an incredible high IQ, but your EQ was equivalently low.

After a few minutes of attempts to calm yourself down, you finally step out of the bathroom, sauntering towards the living room to make your presence known. Mrs. Min acknowledges you, giving you a peck in the cheek. You awkwardly stand before her as she compliments your crown braid hairstyle and the baby blue turtleneck dress that you wore, matched with a pair of flats because you didn't do well in heels in cold weathers.

Her attention pans towards your father, greeting him with the same enthusiasm and you finally felt like you could breathe. But that's when you see him too.

Yoongi is standing in the sidelines, observing the interaction between the four adults. He is obviously avoiding your eyes but you don't notice it, of course. He could literally feel your burning stare on him that he was starting to feel his legs buckle.

However, all those went over your head. You pay heed on his outfit. He didn't seem... too bad. You acknowledge that he has a sense of fashion. He is wearing a pair of beige slacks, complimenting his skin tone. The black leather belt that hugged his waist is a contrast to his white button up long sleeve, a cream-colored knitted vest resting on top of it.

When you look at his eyes, you find him already staring at you. Clearly, he had completely failed avoiding at looking at you. You two continued to have a staredown when Mrs. Min calls the attention of the two of you.

"Y/N, Yoongi! Take your seats. Let's bless the food and eat!"

After dinner, the four adults in the room began to chat with the company of champagne and whiskey. Meanwhile, you and Yoongi were tasked to do the dishes. So, as much as to your disappointment, you were stuck with him. He soaps the dishes while you rinsed them. The situation was awkward because you two were enveloped in a uncomfortable silence. The only sources of sound between you were the voices and laughters coming from the living room.

Earlier, your mother had warned you to be in your best behavior for the umpteenth time, and you don't even fight her on it because 1) you didn't have the energy to engage in a war anyways and 2) Min Yoongi had been passive so you actually had no reason to go into a fit of rage. But still, there is a slight disappointment in you because of the lack of interaction you were having with the said boy.

It was like he had gone mute. To you, it's irksome but also, you were starting to feel concerned. However, your pride was more essential to you, so you don't ask Yoongi what has been bothering him lately because 1) he's your nemesis, you aren't supposed to care for his well-being and 2) it might be a part of his grandmaster plan of plotting your demise.

After drying your hands, you don't bother to wait for Yoongi. Passing by the adults in the living room, you silently exit through the front door to get some fresh air.

As if finally freeing yourself from constriction, you inhale the scent of snowflakes and exhale through your nose, an icy breath leaving your lips. You don't notice the front door opening once again. You don't notice the pair of footsteps padding against the soft snow. You only notice it when the footsteps stop beside you.

You turn your head slightly and see Yoongi, who's looking straight ahead. Cautiously, you take a step to your right to increase the distance between you two.

He notices instantly because he scoffs, "I'm not going to bite you."

"I was just making sure," you reason out. "Why are you here, anyway? Did your mom tell you to? You can drop the act now."

He looks at you in disbelief. "I didn't come out here because I was told to. I came here on my own accord."

You frown. "You're legit scaring me now. Will you stop it already?"

This time, Yoongi doesn't let his gaze leave your face. He is intently looking at you, as if scrutinizing every movement you made. Instinctively, you tuck your chin inside the collar of your turtleneck, hoping that it would shield you from his piercing eyes. It doesn't work out.

"I'm not doing anything, Y/N," he says calmly. "It's you who's overthinking—"

"Oh, stop!" You wave your hands at him. "I'm not stupid, Yoongi. You thought I wouldn't notice the way you're acting differently around me now? You don't seem to have that fiery eyes on me every time we talked. It's sickening, almost like you're mocking me."

A silence envelops the two of you, and you feel your cheeks reddening, partly because of the cold but mostly because of the boy who stood beside you.

"You know," he finally speaks. "It's not that difficult to admit to yourself that you missed me."

This time, you have the strength and courage to actually look at him dead in the eyes. "Are you planning to major in slapstick comedy? Because if yes, then I say go for it. Undoubtedly, you'll be the valedictorian just like you always dream of."

He snickers, tilting his head lightly as he reciprocates your incandescent gaze. "You're funny," he tells you.

"See?!" you exclaim. "This is what I mean! Why aren't you arguing back?" You stomp your foot.

He blinks, finding your question dumb. "Because I simply don't want to?" he answers albeit unsure of it himself.

You cross your arms and emit a scoff. "Sure, you do."

"Look," Yoongi starts. "If you're expecting me to argue with you, I won't. I already told you before, a few months ago, I don't abhor you as much as I do before."

"Why?" you ask and this time, he scoffs.

"Why?" he repeats. "For a person like you with immensely high IQ, you suck at reading the room."

Before you could protest, he interrupts you, making sure that your attention was only on him. He takes two steps towards you, decreasing the distance between your bodies.

"Y/N, I may be the bad guy but I'm not a bad guy," he says. "To be honest with you, I, myself, am confused too. I don't strongly loathe you these past few months and I've been questioning myself why either. But—"

He stops and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What happened to your finger?"

His question catches you off-guard, rendering you to caress the covered part of your skin. You flinch slightly when he holds your hand, raising it to get a proper look on it. His face scrunches and for the first time, you feel something somersaulting in your stomach. You didn't know if you liked it or not, but it was certainly making you feel discomfort.

When you start to feel overwhelmed, you pulled away from his touch, placing your hand to your chest. "I-I'm fine," you stammer.

"Are you sure?" he worriedly asks.

"Yes, I am!" You didn't mean to yell at him but you couldn't help it. He has been making you feel lots emotion. He was confusing you, and the more and more time you were out here with him, the more you were driving to madness.

"You know," he smirks. "If you could stop yelling at me for a second, I could show you much more fun and productive uses for that mouth of yours."

You gape at him, and you start walking backwards when he begins to take defiant steps closer to you. Every time you stepped back, he takes one towards you too. As your back hits the cold exterior walls of your house, you gasp lightly when Yoongi encages you between the walls and his arms, his hands falling on either side of you.

Light snow pelted on both of you but that isn't the reason why you flinch. The reason is because he leans close, increasing the proximity of your faces.

"Yoongi—" you begin to protest but he doesn't let you.

His forehead touches yours and you yelped slightly at the way he is treating you right now. His eyes flutter shut and he speaks in low manner that had you trembling in your position.

"Y/N, you're absolutely driving me crazy," he murmurs. "Like I said, I'm so confused too. My heart and mind are clouded because lately, you've been occupying my thoughts. I loathe the way you bewitch me whenever you use your sharp tongue against me. I despise how you can easily get under my nerves but also it satisfies me whenever you attempt to put me in my place, when you give me a taste of my own medicine."

He pauses, fluttering his eyes open. He leans away slightly, the warmth emanated from his forehead leaving you instantly.

"There is no other plausible explanation for this except for the possibility that... I have been harboring feelings for you for quite awhile now, Y/N." He exhales softly, as if a huge weight has been finally lifted off of his shoulders. "And it's not what you're thinking of. It's the opposite of it."

The world stops for a moment, the snowflakes stop falling, and the time stops ticking. You only hear his soft breaths that had never sounded so calm up until this moment.

"I like you, Y/N." He shows you a coy smile. "And right now, I'm surrendering to you. You can continue to hate me if you want, but it won't change my feelings for you."

Your heart is hammering against your chest wildly, and you only hope that Yoongi isn't hearing how loudly it was beating against your ribcage. As the silence between you two continues to prolong, the harder it was for you to formulate a coherent response.

A buzzing sound slices the still atmosphere and you usher Yoongi to check his phone. He does, sighing in dismay. You warily watch him as he opens his messaging app. You awkwardly stand before him as he scrolls through his chats.

His expression morphs into perturbation. The lump that had formed in his throat getting harder to swallow. You notice his adam's apple bob up and down and you start to wonder what happened.

Then, his eyes leave the screen, searching for yours. When your gazes collide, the confidence that he had a few minutes ago was now gone, replaced by anxiousness.

"I think..." He says reluctantly. "You need to see this."

He hands you his device and you impassively check out what he saw. Then, the blood drains from your skin, your own expression alters to skepticism first, then turns to perplexity once you double take on the image viewed on the screen.

At first, you didn't know what to feel. Your mind going haywire for a fleeting moment. You felt even worse when you look up at Yoongi because his emotion was anything but jubilance. In fact, he rather looks like he was in agony.

But you don't care about that. Your anger only rises, traveling through your veins. At that very moment, standing before your own rival, you were beyond humiliated and enraged that he witnessed your downfall, the scarlet ink being the proof of it.

Top Performers for This Year's Midterms

1. Min Yoongi

2. L/N Y/N

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The Christmas jingles resonating all throughout the suburbs was unnecessarily aggravating you more than it should be for the reasons that you are making it sound like Christmas is mocking your once exuberant mood a few days ago, and because you didn't like the gift and news you received that night.

Despite the freezing weather's attempts to cool you down, it was heightening your fury instead. Four days after Christmas Eve, you kicked the sheets off yourself and impulsively decided that a walk in the suburbs will be a great idea so that you can finally turn your sour mood into a sweet one.

Alas, it fails miserably. You are still trampling on snow piles as your fervent eyes scan the shops in the sidewalks, desperately trying to look for something that can finally extinguish the fires within you.

But when you reach the end of the street, the tall buildings of stores turning into festive bungalows, and decorated apartments. The worst of all is the duplexes, because the decorations of both similar-structured houses have conjoined Christmas embellishments, letting everyone who passes by know that the two families living inside are more than acquaintances.

It stupidly reminds you of your family's current situation with them. More specifically, your situation with him.

When you finally reach the comfort of your bedroom, contradictory, it doesn't feel comforting at all. Everywhere your gaze lands, they remind you of him; of the fact that he had finally conquered you; that all your hardwork that year were for nothing.

Shutting your eyes close, you begin to recite the numbers of pi, pacing around your room. It was something that you always do when you're stressed.

"...190914564856692346034861045432664821339!" When the door of your bedroom creaks open, you couldn't help but yell nine, as if threatening the one who dares to interrupt your attempts to keep yourself level-headed.

You were about to glare but instead, you were surprised to see your father, peeking through the crevice of your door. You notice that he's slightly anxious because, well, you were screaming numbers.

A sigh escapes your lips and you shuffle towards the door, opening it wider. Your father takes this as a sign that he was invited in your room.

Your relationship with your father is very much uptight and timid which is why between him and your mother, you're less angry at him. At times though, you didn't know how to act around him because you feel like you don't know him. You never bonded with him. Except for that time you were helping him out with connecting the Christmas lights on your roof's gutters.

After that fleeting moment, the bond was gone, as if a scissor magically appeared to cut the strings between you two. You don't hate him for it, but sometimes, you wonder and daydream possible moments where you could actually bond without that suffocating rope forcedly tying you two together.

You wonder if in the past, in the years when you were still full of innocence, purity, oblivious of the histories of the ancient world; when you still didn't know how to count one to three; when you barely knew how to lift a muscle and take the first steps towards your father.

Had he ever squat down before you, his face full of sunshine, and encourage you to come to him with open arms? Tell you that you could do it! That you could make it to the heartwarming embrace of your father's arms?

But the more you try to dig any sort of memory from your lobes, nothing resurfaces. And you were back with the reality that, maybe, he didn't need and have to do all of those.

Because as far as your memory traveled back, you had been completely fine on your own. Maybe, you taught yourself how to walk, think, say your first word.

Because, you were gifted.

And now, as the years go by, you realize that the gift you have, may be also your curse.

It's a tightrope with both ends holding you up, urging you to keep on walking. A gift and a curse on either end, shouting at you—

Stop standing around!

The rope's about to break if you don't start moving another step!

What has gotten into you?!

You used to do this so effortlessly!

"Y/N."

The call of your father's soft voice pulls you out of your trance. You suddenly realize that you had been standing by the door stupidly and your father is looking at you with worry creasing his mature features.

"Oh," you say. "My bad."

You shut the door then turn your back towards your father. You amble towards your desk, attempting to fix the sprawled mess on it by carelessly shoving the scratch papers in your bin, keeping your ballpens and pencils in your pencil case, the zipper loudly being the only source of sound slicing through the deafening silence.

"Sorry about the mess," you say. "I've been busy."

"On your holiday break?" your father asks, chuckling lightly. The sound faintly makes your lips form into a small smile. But as soon as it came, it disappears.

"Yeah, well, I'm growing older. And that means the more I age, the more my ability to suck in information rusts."

Your father doesn't reply after that, so you continue to clean up your desk wordlessly. Once you had nothing to pick up and throw and keep anymore, you finally turn back around to face your father.

He's sitting quiety on the foot of your bed, and you take heed of the small box he's fiddling with his hands. The box is covered with red wrapper, with flurries of snowflakes as pattern.

He notices that your attention is on him, so he stands up from your bed and approaches you in a relaxing manner yet you can catch on the slight cautiousness along it. You decide not to mention anything about it.

He hands you the little parcel, and you accept it wordlessly, opting to wait for him to speak first.

He does. "I wasn't able to get you any gift on Christmas, and I hope I'm not too late. I had a bit of a hard time picking one, but I made sure I thought about it. Hopefully, you'll like this small present."

"Thanks, dad," is your only verbose reply.

He nods and after contemplating a bit, he decides to leave you to it. In your own solitude once again, you scrutinize the small box, tossing it lightly every now and then to guess what it was. You feel movement from inside, like a flow of something liquid.

Your curiosity makes you rip the wrapper apart and it didn't take long for the gift to make its apparition.

The gift is simple like its size, but to you, it holds a lot of meaning. It's a snowglobe, but the inside is what makes it unique. No, Santa Claus isn't there inside nor were the nine reindeers that pulled his sleigh—even the sleigh itself is absent. Rudolph isn't there which makes you slightly pout but it doesn't last long because staring back at you from the other side of the glass is a small girl with Iron Man's arm around her. He is almost hugging her but his other arm remains at his side.

You shake the globe in your hands, chuckling at the bits of snow encompassing the small figures inside.

Indeed, it reminds you of something. You and your father.

But for the first time in forever, you aren't longing. Rather, you are contented.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

It is still snowing a week after New Year. Nothing much happened. You only had a family dinner, watched fireworks, and jumped around because of your belief that you would grow taller if you do so.

But after the first day of the year, things went back to normal. The only difference is the relentless snow pouring everywhere.

Oh, and classes are resumed.

Miraculously, you don't feel as much anger as you did a few weeks ago. You don't know if it's because it's a new year so you just suddenly feel like oh, fuck it, it's been a long ass while, I should chill the eff out.

Weirdly enough, you expected to be really infuriated when your feet leads you to the bulletin board and scan it. You see your name, beside the number two. It sinks in to you of the reality that you're now second but oddly, you don't feel the particular element surging through your veins.

You thought everything's going well so far. And you must have a curse because every time you thought that all is well, that's when the real torrential typhoon arrives.

Tornados hit everywhere, and instead of rainshowers, you see hails vehemently falling on yourself. It hurts so much more than rain, but you had to get through it anyways. Or else, you would die getting shot by mere ice. It was gonna be embarrassing if your soul sees your grave with the words 'Cause of death: ice' engraved on your tombstone.

So, you make sure that you are under control when Min Yoongi does his usual entrance, greeting the student body with nods and smiles. It's slightly different now though, because some of them greeted him back with congratulations.

You resist your eye wanting to twitch when Yoongi's gaze finally lands on you.

A year ago and a year before that, you would always see his eyes fiery and intense, trying to get under your nerves with a mere eye contact. Now, however, his eyes hold on anything but anger. The sight of him doesn't infuriate you for the first time, but it does provoke you for another reason that you were afraid to unravel.

You desperately want to bury what you're feeling six feet below, because as much as you loathe it, you can't help but trail your mind back to that particular night when he had declared his feelings for you.

"I like you, Y/N."

Was that even possible? Was it possible, at all, to grow feelings for the person who constantly tormented you for the years you've known them? You couldn't wrap your mind around it, no matter how smart you are, it seems like you couldn't find any plausible explanation for such circumstances.

Not even when the devil himself is only three inches away from you, did you successfully come up with a conceivable reason.

Yoongi greets you but you don't respond. The crowd was anticipating what would your response be, and you refuse to give them the satisfaction. Instead, you walk past him, not even sparing a glance to any of the spectators. You also drown out their whispers, making you want to yell at them 'Why whisper when I would still hear it anyway, dumbos?'

You don't utter a single world, opting to force to smother the flames instead, maybe bury them deep within your ribcage, lock it with a key and throw it in the Altantic Ocean, hoping that it will land on the Titanic where no one could ever take it. Not even you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You spent the whole day in school cocooned in your hoodie, attempting to take naps despite of the loud voices of your teachers and classmates. But you only end up being wide awake, your eyes open, your face on the desk, seeing nothing but black. You succumb in yourself in the trenches of your own thoughts, and you finally drift off.

You don't know how long you've fallen asleep, but your consciousness slowly enters your systems, causing you to become suddenly aware of your surroundings. Unlike a few minutes—or hours—ago, the ambience is silent. Too silent.

When you open your eyes and move your arms slightly, your brows furrow in confusion when the darkness remains. You have no idea if your sense of hearing had heightened in the span of your sleep or if the sound is just extremely loud because you can hear someone breathing, as if they were just beside you.

Squinting your eyes, you brace for the brightness of the world to blind you, but you still see nothing.

You rub your eyes to adjust your sight in the dark. And you finally realize that it is night time. The stars are awake, looking down on you as they twinkle. The moon is round, as if it is luring you to spill your secrets.

Most importantly, you finally process the presence beside you. The main sound source of breathing.

Min Yoongi.

When you look at him, he's already staring at you. It reminds you of that certain night once again. Come to think of it, the situation you both are in is similar. It's night time again.

"What are you doing here?" It's you who breaks the silence. Your voice is slightly hoarse so you clear your throat.

"I could ask you the same." Yoongi shrugs. He leans on his desk, propping his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

"I fell asleep," you merely say.

"I figured," he replies. "But you slept through your classes? Even after it ended?Huh, I never took you for a deep sleeper."

"It's because of the weather." You grit your teeth, starting to feel annoyed at the exchange you're having with your nemesis.

Your bitter tone, however, doesn't come unnoticed to Yoongi.

"Why are you grumpy? Shouldn't you feel better after a nap?"

"You could say that I woke up on the wrong side of my desk."

He lets out a laugh at your response, and you furrow your eyebrows and frown because your intention wasn't to make a joke.

"Is that your awkward way of flirting with me?" He gives you a coquettish smile.

Your face distorts into disgust. "You're ridiculous."

"What?" Yoongi tilts his head. "You said you woke up on the wrong side of your desk, which is the opposite of where I am. Do you think you would've been in a less sour mood if it was my face you saw first?"

You mentally kick yourself for being slow. Moreoever, you also curse lowly because your heart stopped beating for a fleeting moment.

You also can't contain your irritation any longer. You grimace, making your vexation perceivable to the boy who sat beside you.

"You're really getting on my nerves," you say. "This was your goal all along, right? To deter me away from focus. This was your grandmaster plan all along. To get ahead of me. Well, guess what?" You abruptly stand up from your chair, the furniture screeching against the floor. The eerie sound reverberates through the whole room yet Yoongi doesn't flinch.

"Congratulations, Yoongi," you seethe. "Congratulations for beating me! Did you have fun distracting me? Also, cut the crap, will you? You weren't here because you wanted to set a romantic mood, and maybe try again in making me fall for you, yes? No, you don't have to go through all that bullshit. Not at all. Because right now. Right here, I am giving you the full permission of mocking me! Tada! Isn't this fun? It's all going well for you, isn't it, hm?"

You were now leaning forward, your face right in front of him. You gathered that much of your confidence because you already knew it would be your last. Because the following days, you would probably be drooping in humilation.

However, Yoongi stays put in his seat, his eyes void of any emotion you could decipher. He only looks at you. The silence envelopes the both of you again, and you were losing every bit of patience you had left within you.

But the silence breaks as soon as you acknowledge it.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Yoongi's question-declaration cuts you deep. Your breath hitches and you feel like someone had taken your lifeline.

"Wha—"

"You know," he speaks again. "For all the years I've known you, I always thought that even if we were in an apocalypse; if we were the last humans on earth, I would rather date a zombie that have myself associated with you. It was always easier that way, right?" He pauses, looking briefly at you before shifting his gaze at the silvery scenery outside. "It was easy... but now, it's difficult to think that way. Because in all my life, I have never even considered, thought about falling for you."

At the last word, his eyes meet yours and a thousand galaxies can be seen in his irises. You can see your own reflection in his eyes, unsaid words starting to spill out the more stars his eyes consumed.

"Your brutal words used to be my melodies, because whenever I hear you utter words of hatred at me, they become my symphonies. I was always satisfied having successfully gotten into your nerves. But now, they're like bullets to me. Your wicked words are curses to me. Whenever you express your loathe, they come across as daggers now. But they also bewitch me in some way, because I know that you don't vehemently hate anyone else as much as you hate me."

A soft wind kisses both of your skin, serving as the temporary rest between the overwhelming tension between you.

"But I can't help but think..." He moves from his seat, standing up from it and you are forced to stand properly as well.

He takes a step closer to you. "That maybe, just maybe, we are on the same boat."

"That maybe, the reason you're getting so worked up on me right now is because you feel the same way." Another step closer.

"That maybe, I'm not going insane. That this is all totally normal for me to feel." Another step closer.

The back of your knees hit the teacher's desk, and you yelp slightly at the familiar proximity of your bodies. The night of Christmas Eve haunts you back, but oddly, it doesn't asphyxiate you. Rather it dawns on you in a soothing manner, but also in a way that the weight of the world on your shoulders becomes a bit bearable.

The eventual arrives upon you and it hits you like a meteor plunging on the earth's surface, burying itself deep within the soil so that it becomes a part of the planet. Everything started to make sense to you at this very moment; why you cared so much about how well Yoongi did in every exam you took; why it seems that everything he does gets under your skin; why everything he says stuck to you the most, etching on your mind and it becomes a mantra in your head.

It had always been him. You had always loved that fucker, even more this moment of realization. And it terrifies you now more than anything. You wanted to incessantly succumb yourself under denial, but you knew you would only feel worse than you already are.

You can't push him away any longer, because the more you do, the more your world collapses, and sooner or later you will find yourself underneath the heap of rubble you created yourself. That no matter how vehement you scream for help, nobody will come to you.

But in the depths of your abyssal thoughts, you finally conjure the image of your worst enemy; the one who pulls you out of the demolished building; the one who embraces you and whisper you sweet nothings.

You unconsciously sought Yoongi in all seasons because he have always been the one who saw you; he's the cold wind that caresses your cheeks, the storm that torments you, the sunlight that blinds you, the water that pours on you so that you'll bloom.

And now, the autumn leaves that delicately descend on your palms, and you nuzzle your nose against his, the warmth emanating from him instilling in yours.

His lips ghost over yours, and he whispers, "Tell me to stop. And if you don't... I will take that as your indication that you're returning my feelings."

Yoongi's lips are soft when he brushes it against yours a few times before he presses deeper. His lips are sweet when you taste him the first time in your tongue. His kiss is deliberately and painfully slow but he fills you to the brim, taking in all of your cold breaths. His touch is gentle and tender, stroking the soft skin of your nape as he searches for an angle that can fully quench his desire for you.

It was nothing like you ever imagined, because you never did. Only in this moment, did you let your mind wander to dangerous territory. Your fantasies getting vivid as each second passed by as he drinks in your breathless exhales, strokes your hip lovingly.

Your eyes are still fluttered shut when the warmth of his mouth leaves yours, and you suddenly feel empty. When you open them, his beauty greets you and your eyes that once held fervid flames are extinguished into something much more gentle and fond.

That's all that it takes for Yoongi to know what you truly feel about him.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The blanket of snow dissipates, replaced by the freshly-bloomed flowers, coating the once melancholic pavement. Flocks of birds fills the void, the leaves rustle, and the world seems a whole lot livelier than before.

Furthermore, you are much more in a state of tranquility.

Spring break arrives sooner than you expected, and you are once again free from the bars of school. Lately, however, you don't deem that place like a prison anymore. It had become much more bearable and breathable for you to step foot on it.

One, because being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore (partly because you had a recent discovery that you pretty much enjoyed being at the bottom, if you know what I mean). Two, because you decided that you're going to use your gift in a much more calmer way, where you won't have to stress too much about your grades, as long as you continue to do well in every aspect of your academic performance.

And three, because you look forward for the rendezvouses your boyfriend plans every single week day.

Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and janitors' closets, discreet hand-holdings in crowded public spaces such as the cafeteria, playful banters in the hallways to put on a show for everyone to see, the thrill of getting caught whenever things got a little bit too heated between the two of you in the darkness of storage rooms.

Yeah, while everyone else still thinks you're each other's rivals, you two have a secret relationship taking place in the premises, right under their noses.

Yoongi and you had no problem about it at all. You two came into a mutual agreement that you were going to keep this rivalry thing going on only for the sake of the adrenaline rush pumping through both of your veins at the thought of your schoolmates possibly finding out what has been transpiring between the two of you.

You've never understood the meaning of love and hate until now. They are two emotions, not entirely the opposite of each other, but they belong to both sides of a coin. The coin wouldn't exist without the other. That's why you worry less about the future that awaits you, because it's Yoongi.

Yoongi had seen you in your worst and so did you had seen his. There's that fine line that exists between the both of you of love and hate, which is why you think that indifference is the opposite of love instead. Because with indifference, you don't give a damn about that person. That isn't the case for you at all on what you feel towards Yoongi.

He is the psychedelic drug you never want to stop drinking. It feels overwhelming at times, but you feel good. And you make sure to return the favor when the coin lands on your side.

Once again, he pulls you out of your reverie, intertwining his fingers with yours. He keeps your hands in the pocket of his coat, while you blush underneath his stare. He walks ahead slightly, pulling you along with him. You don't know where he'll take you on your umpteenth date, but you let him do as he pleases to you.

Yeah, this feels all right.

Maybe, you don't mind him being at the top at all. As long as it was always you who follows behind him.

#bts #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi imagines #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #romance #highschool au #romcom au #christmas au #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #yoongi oneshot #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #suga au #suga angst #suga fanfiction #suga fanfic #the gift and the gifted #haeggi

[couchpotatoaniki]

An Annoying Kind of Pretty

Pairing: College Rival!Jungkook x College!Reader (British college, so basically senior year in highschool--they're 18) Word count: 4k+ Tags: mega fluff, light swearing, mentions of very mild violence (banter...maybe), mentions of clowns, reader is terrified of them, honestly, just cute shit, and they're being idiots A/N: I'm in the middle of reading Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert and this just sprung to mind soooooooo yeah

No matter how much you scrub, you can't get this darn plate clean. At this point, you're ready to smash it to pieces so you don't have to spend another second on it. But, alas, this is not your dish and therefore dish-smashing rights are revoked. A true travesty, considering how ugly the damn thing looks anyway. Society would be better off without it.

But you scrub, scrub, scr--"Are you done?" A deep voice rumbles behind you. Involuntarily, your eyes close to hide the annoyance flickering through them, lest he somehow sees through the obscured reflection of the kitchen window. This time you've spent together has taught you he's almost decent at guessing body language (almost--he's still otherwise a useless male).

Gosh, if only you could destroy the plate and take a shard to one of his annoyingly pretty brown eyes. Honestly, the fact that a man like him has such wonderful features is what you'd consider to be a crime that nature has committed.

"What does it look like?" Yeah, maybe you should relax your jaw before your teeth grind to dust. Your dentist would have a heartattack if she saw the stress they've put them under lately (she likes to talk about them like they're some separate entity, a bit odd but she's sweet and likes to rant about her cats so you can happily bare it).

"Looks like you're slacking off."

Excuse me? "Maybe I'd be more efficient if you didn't leave your dishes to grow a mini ecosystem in your kitchen. You're likely worshiped as a god by bacteria since you created them their own little world."

He rolls his eyes. This you can't see through the haze of his reflection on the slightly filthy window but you've somehow grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Like a shitty superpower.

"Don't be so dra--"

"If you dare say 'dramatic', the next thing I'll be cleaning are your insides off the floor and countertops."

His reflection raises a hand in mock surrender. "Touché. But for your information, I don't live here."

This makes you turn around, pinning him with a glare. "If you don't live here, which ogre or troll does?"

"My brother. But he's been... ah, what's the word--" he waves his hand in a circular motion with his eyes closed, only to open again at the snap of his fingers--"backpacking across mainland Europe for past three months."

A huff leaves your nose as you return to the gruelling task at hand. You're going to need a shower after this, maybe two, just to make sure you don't catch the Black Plague or some other disease that would trigger another pandemic. "Then why am I here?"

"Because you owe me, remember?"

"Yes, you--not your brother that can't even remember to put away his dishes before he goes on stupidly basic holidays."

"'Stupidly basic'?" Jungkook's frame hobbles into the corner of your eye as he mocks you with a smirk. Darn him and his unusually large (and unfortunately well sculpted) build. A disgustingly natural beauty that demands attention, but you'd rather poke your eye repeatedly than admit that to him lest his cocky smirk and big head grow more than it already has.

Yet, you can't help a glance in his direction. Props to you though, your face managed to not betray your soul and remained in it's usual disinterested state.

"If I had a penny for every time I've heard someone backpacking across Europe, I'd be so rich I wouldn't have to pay you back with my services."

"Considering you sprained my wrist and my ankle, I'd request both payment in money and services."

The thought of the Incidents sent and involuntary shudder down your spine. About two weeks ago, you were minding your own business in the library, one thing led to another and long story short, you accidently pushed the usually well-balanced hulking man onto the hardwood floor and his hand landed at a funky angle. Less than 72 hours had passed and various shenanigans ensued involving 12 glue sticks, streamers, a helium tank, and an unwanted clown roaming the gymnasium which led to his second trip to Accident and Emergency.

In all fairness, he shouldn't have even been there helping to set up the farewell assembly for the final years in the first place. His fault, really, but he wouldn't hear of it since you did crash into him as you were running away from a definite (maybe) psycho killer.

"How many times do I have to apologise," you huff.

His finger taps his chin in mock thought. "Preferably forever, seeing as though I am having to limit my activities while it's the summer holidays before we go off to uni. But I suppose having you as my little servant until I get better is decent enough."

You send him another glare before carrying on. Almost spotless, this dish. "This is abuse of power."

He raised his cast as well as a deadpanned expression onto his face. "And this was just regular abuse."

"It was self-defence."

"Against me or the very innocent clown you claimed was 'chasing' you?"

"Both. And he was chasing me. I was terrified."

"Remind me when your birthday is?"

"Why?"

"No particular reason. Certainly not a clown-related one for retaliation. None whatsoever."

Your head turns so quickly to him that it almost gives you whiplash. "You dare."

"We'll just have to see."

Huffing, you finish up the last of the dishes, with Jungkook sat on the countertop beside yours (with a bit of difficulty). Guilt begins to bleed out of your heart and pool into a warmth in your cheeks as you once more mumble an apology to him, the dishes suddenly looking more appealing for your eyes to land on. "I... I really am sorry, though."

He sighs--as he usually does when you once more feel horrible about the state he is in and try to voice it. "Stop that."

For the millionth time, you purse your lips, ready to let a few beats of silence pass before you could say something to return it back to that annoyingly fun hateful banter than the heavy and suffocating air that follows an apology. Jungkook, however, did not care for your mental plans (you don't really think he cares about much of anything besides his grades, friends, and snacks like a typical man).

"Can I... admit something to you? So, like, Truce?"

"...Truce." You reach out for a cloth to wipe anything left on the countertop, but ears keenly remained on him.

"I'm kinda... glad you fucked up my arm." You send him an incredulous look, to which he blurts in response, "don't get me wrong, it hurts like shit and I'm no masochist, but having you here doing my bidding--" his lips quirked at the sight of you murderous glare, "--and keeping me company is... nice."

"...'Nice'." The word feels funny to your ears as you hear it, and even funnier when you speak it.

"Yes, nice." His feet swing a little, his head hanging a little sheepishly. "My friends are cool and all, but you're, like, really fun to piss off." Okay, you might actually end up killing him. "And we don't really hang out all that often during the holidays. Plus, you've got a different vibe to you that I think is... nice--" There's that fucking word again, how on earth did he get higher marks than you in English? "--and my parents work a lot regardless so having you as company is, I suppose, ni--"

"Get a grip, dude." Your eyes roll by themselves. "You're rambling."

His lips pout and his cheeks puff to make a ridiculous (yet adorable) face of a child being lightly scolded for no reason. "You said Truce."

"I'm hearing you out, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but you're still being mean."

"Boo-hoo." He look up at you and his narrowed eyes make you retract your statement. "I mean, sorry. Carry on."

"That's it."

"What's 'it'?"

"The thing I wanted to tell you."

"What thing?"

"You know...the thing."

"You spewed a lot of crap in that short frame of time, I truly have no idea what you're talking about."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed once more, this time in suspicion. "You know exactly what I mean."

"No I don't." It's pitiful to say that your face is losing the battle to keep your smile away, which ultimately makes him gasp and point accusingly towards you.

"Yes, you do, you egg."

"Going for the Shakespearean insults? Wow, I must've really ticked you off," you laugh.

Lucky for you, the nearest thing to him was an almost-finished kitchen roll, otherwise he would've landed you in A&E too from his well-aimed throw to your forearm.

"I'm trying to be sincere." His voice is at that whiney pitch he uses when he's frustrated but not enough to care about it. He tends to only use it around his friends, but the more hellish (a potential exaggeration) time you spend with each other, the easier it slips out of him.

"Stop saying 'nice' like someone's pulling it out of your arse and not in a fun way."

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?! That I think your wonderful and funny and interesting and I like it when we spend time together!"

You try not to let the admission show up in your expression, not when it's making your heart race a mile a minute. "I mean, yeah. Don't stop on my account, keep telling me how you think I'm the most amazing person on the planet and you worship the ground I walk on, please."

He rolls his eyes and smiles in that adorable shy why which tells you that he knows exactly what you're trying to do and appreciates the way you relieve the tension. "Jesus, even when you take the piss out of me you still say 'please' in a way that makes me want to..." he trails off, then sighs. "Nevermind, ignore me."

Oh no, you're not going to let it go that easily. "Hard to do when your pig-headed ego takes up half the room." You take your gloves off--making a mental note to burn them in the incinerator for all they've had to deal with today (it's a mercy, really)--and turn towards him to give your full undivided attention. As if that would make it any easier for him to speak. "Go on, please."

He rolls his eyes again, trying even harder to hide his smile but it's fails just as easily. "Stop it."

"Stop what? Could you tell me, please?" Your head cocks to the side and your eyes challenge him in a teasing sort of way.

"God fucking damnit, Y/N. I don't know how I'm going to survive uni with you," he laughs, but the way he looks back at you feels a little too fond.

It takes a second to process what he just said. "Um, what?"

"What?"

"You said... wait, are we going to the same uni?!"

"Um, yeah? We got into the same uni."

Shock takes ever your expression for a moment. "You remember which uni I applied to?"

He looks at you incredulously. "Yeah, of course I remember. And don't be so damn humble about your exam results, I know for a fact we're both getting in."

You take a second to find a response in your head, which seems momentarily empty except for that one phrase 'of course I remember.' "Well, that's beside the point." Jungkook raises a brow at you, not buying it but willing to shelf the matter for now. "What did you mean by all that earlier?"

He looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I have no idea what you mean."

"No no, you can't get out of it that easily."

"I think I can."

You take a few steps to his side and try to perch yourself up on the side of the counter next to him. He doesn't say anything as he helps you up with his good hand wrapped around your waist--and neither do you in case the combustion of heat in your body will expel flames out of your mouth the second you open it, right for your rival to see. "You're infuriating, you know that right?"

"Really? Haven't heard you say it before."

"Shut up," you chuckle, lightly shoving his shoulder with your own.

"Never. I know how much you love my snark, even if you don't admit it," he grins in return, looking at you in a way that makes your insides turn and twist. God you didn't think you could hate his stupid face even more than you do now (or something like that).

Then there comes a moment where everything went still. You think it's slightly unfair that this boy is able to bend people to his will with his looks and charm, and now apparently he can bend time too. Okay, maybe in this instance it doesn't feel as bad because you strangely don't mind having time suspended when he's there with you.

Those brown eyes flicker down to your lips so quickly you wouldn't have caught it had you not been intently gazing at him too. Rushes of heat fill every inch of your body, and to be honest, you don't know how to respond to it.

Times like these are few between you two, mostly because most of your interactions happen where there's a number of people around. But when it's just the two of you...

It feels slightly dangerous, but in a warm, comforting way that's so addictive you get a little scared of how much you don't want it to end. And also how his lips don't look as repulsive to press your own again as much as they usually do.

Damn him and his witchery.

"Anything else you want me to do?"

He raises a brow. "I want you to do a lot of things, you're gonna have to be more specific."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I mean, any cleaning up you needed me to do for your unhygienic brother?"

"Ah... no. The dishes were the main thing."

"Okay..." Silence stretches around the two of you until you find enough boldness within you to break it. "What were the other things?"

"What other things?"

"That you wanted me to do."

"Uh, I think you might fracture my balls too if I said them."

"Coward."

The corner of his lips curve. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."

"Wow, I didn't think you knew it existed since you tend to cross it a lot."

"Har har," he deadpans, making you smile.

Your hands run over your thighs, a nervous tick you have that you have no doubt he's clocked onto by the way his good hand reaches out to squeeze one of them gently. Your hand, that is, though a corner of your traitorous mind that's steadily becoming louder over the past couple of weeks the longer you spend time with him thinks that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it was your thigh instead. It's certainly big enough and you've seen the way he handles modelling clay for his art homework. There's no doubt he'd be able to relieve the tension of the muscles there. Or anywhere else--ah, no. Nope. Absolutely not.

"Sometimes I kinda kick myself for doing this deal with you." At your quizzical look, he clears his throat. "Makes it harder to ignore you when you're right with me for a good chunk of the day."

"You couldn't ignore me even if you tried."

He snorts. "Tired and proven."

Your brows scrunch, though your heart still beats against your chest. "What, really? You've tried to ignore me? Damn. Here I was hoping it would've worked out."

"Oh, I tried a few years ago, I think? Closer to when we first met. But unfortunately, you're hard to ignore."

Mockingly, you straighten you back and lift your head up. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all."

His smile is a bit weaker this time. "Yeah... Practically impossible to keep my mind off you."

Silence flows once more for a moment or two and you realise his hands is still wrapped around yours. "You know I tried too...in the beginning. Unfortunately, that didn't last long either."

His brow quicks. "Given how perfect I am, smarts and looks and all?"

"The opposite, actually. You were too dumb and ugly not to. Out of pity, really." From your teasing expression, he knows that he was right.

"Riiiiight, 'pity'. We'll go for that blatant lie if you want to save face."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I think you do."

"I think I don't."

You don't realise until now how close your faces have gotten, able to feel the soft gentle breaths against your lips from his. It feels so difficult to maintain the distance but even more so to move closer to further.

"When you asked me what I meant by all that... ask me again."

"What?"

"Ask me what I meant by everything I said before."

You've been sensing this coming for a while now, longer than whatever time you've spent together in his brother's now-clean kitchen (thanks to you). Like the sky is falling, but you can't seem to look away from it.

"What did you mean?"

Jungkook's tongue peeks out to run along his bottom lip. "I meant that I... I think you're amazing, potentially out of my league--"

"--definitely out of your league--" Definitely what you would consider a lie because look at him and his social skills and his grades and passion and whatnot.

"--and so damn sweet and kind."

"Did you not just hear me call myself out of your league? Or pay attention to most of our conversations in general."

He sends a questioning look to you, as if he can see through your bullshit. "I think we both know you don't think that--for some stupid reason, because you actually are out of my league."

"Don't be humble, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not. Just truthful. And the truth is, I find it hard to be around you and not fall for you. I see the person you are when you let your guard down with people you care about and how annoyingly well you follow that moral compass of yours even if you use fancy mean words to distract everyone else."

You snort. "If only you heard my thoughts about you while I was doing the dishes. Maiming was not off the list."

He tried to bite back a laugh. "Given the condition of those dishes, I would give you a free pass for homicide."

"Good thing your teen boy-genes haven't totally overtaken your common sense of hygiene."

"I think we can both agree we're growing out of the 'teen' bit of our lives."

"Nope," you deny quickly, waving your hand out as if to undo what he just said. "I'd like to stick my head in the sand and forget about how quickly life is moving into adulthood until it hits me like a train--"

"--or a clown--"

"--thank you very much," you end tightly, sending him a light-hearted glare.

"As I was saying," he continues, amusement lighting up his face, "it's hard not to want to kiss you at times."

"Even when I'm mouthing off to you?"

"Especially when you're mouthing off."

Even though you were expecting it, it takes a minute to process. "Oh."

"Yes, 'ohhhhh'," he mocks, nudging you with a teasing smirk.

"That must've been annoying in class then."

"Very," he nods solemnly. "There were times I wanted to throw caution to the wind and traumatise everyone."

"From the shit some of my friends say, I don't think people would be that shocked if you'd kiss me."

"Huh, maybe you're not as airheaded as you make yourself out to be."

"Rude," you mumble. "I pay attention. I just tend to...second guess."

"I think my feelings for you were a bit obvious. I mean, I think I could've survived without having you be at my beck and call this summer but I said yes anyway."

"Manipulative bastard."

"Anything for you," he sends a cheesy grin your way, making you laugh at the sudden and very inconvenient butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

"'Anything'?"

"Okay, from that tone, I can tell you're imagining something horrifying so let me change that to 'anything within reason'."

"Coward."

"You are slightly terrifying."

"Why, thank you," you smile, and he smiles too with that buttery warm look of fondness again before he leans in slowly, giving you enough time to move away. But when you don't, he pressed his lips against yours and fucking hell it's the softest thing you've ever felt.

You don't know how long it takes for the kiss to break but even breathless you still miss the warm softness against your mouth. And apparently he felt the same because it takes very little time for him to capture your lips again, untangling his hand from yours to cup the side of your jaw, keeping you in place--not like it was possible for you to leave his addictive taste anyway, it might take dark magic for that to happen.

Maybe something even more potent, when his tongue slips its way past your lips and you find that he's stolen every single thought that occupied your mind. Again, time slips away until you're lungs are burning from the lack of air and you both pull away--though not too far from one another.

"So," he says breathless.

"So," you repeat in the same manner, mind still a little fuzzy.

"That was... something."

"Good something or bad something?"

"I don't think 'good' is a strong enough word I want to use." You hum in agreement, and reluctantly pull a little further away, his hand dropping back down onto yours. He looks at you curiously. "So..."

"So..."

"Would I be too soon if I asked you to take pity on a poor simp like me and be mine?"

"Hmmm," you hum in thought. "Given your performance, I'm inclined to accept."

"I can upgrade you from being my reluctant servant to my reluctant lover." He wiggles his borrows and you groan.

"With a romantic declaration like that, I find it hard not to accept," you deadpan, before sighing and leaning against his shoulder. You want to bottle up that sound up and listen to it until you get sick of it--which you have a sneaking suspicion is about as likely as the sun imploding in your lifetime.

"Would you let me continue to wreak havoc on your life?"

"Naturally."

"Then yes. I accept." He raises a brow expectantly and you clock on to what he's waiting for. "I'm not saying it."

"Say it."

"No."

"Please?"

"I take back my answer."

"No backsies."

"What, are you five years old or something?"

"Just say it! Say you'll be my lover."

"If you manage to make this relationship last for 50 years, then I will."

He huffs, leaning his head on top of yours, fingers linking with yours. "I suppose I can agree with that. I'll keep a note of it in my calendar."

"How unusually organised of you."

"Like I said, I'd do anything for you."

"Within reason, of course."

"Of course. Doesn't need to be logical reason, just reason."

"Good to know. Now, let's get out of your brother's place. I feel all the germs crawling all over me and need an extra hot shower--maybe two--to feel even remotely clean after that ordeal."

He laughs as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. "Yeah, okay, we can do that. Though I hoped you reminded me before I kissed you."

"You just did again after I told you, dumbass."

"In my defence, I did tell you it was hard not to. If I die of some unknown disease, I blame on you." You roll your eyes with a smile as the two of you hop off the counter and make your way out, hands still clasped together.

#if you're not threatening bodily harm. is it really rivalry banter? #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook bts #fluff #academic rivals to lovers #rival!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #junkook #jungkook oneshot #jeon jungkook oneshot

[amiharana]

revalink shitpost of the day: revali and link as kpop stans

revali is either a complete anti who openly mocks and says shitty stuff about kpop idols and runs blockchains on stan accounts, or he gets extremely defensive and aggressive because you didn’t like his nugu girl group’s comeback song because come on this is musical genius what do you mean it sounds like construction noises!!! he spams fancams of his bias and runs a protect/shooter account for his ult group. revali is definitely at risk for being a solo stan, though, he's got a couple of strong opinions about certain idols in certain groups...

as for link, no one had any clue that he likes kpop at all. his personal belongings have no indication of kpoppery and he never talks about it irl, but then you look up his youtube channel and its like 300+ videos of full length kpop dance covers. link performs it exactly like the original idols do down to a T and also has really nice outfits and sets, and the video is just really professional??? how did he film this??? champions+zelda would probably find out after doing a random kpop dance challenge for shits and giggles, but wait why is link slaying the choreography to antifragile by lesserafim rn…

#loz #botw #loz botw #revalink #shitpost #this was extremely sef indulgent i know #very specific niche of mine being fulfilled #disclaimer i'm an army and not a kpoppie i'm just severely ill (a twitter user) #i started writing a whole kpop stans rivals to lovers revalink au because of this #if this gets attention i'll post it #in case anyone wanted to know my thoughts on the other champions #daruk isn’t a kpopper but he thinks the whole newjeans hype boy tiktok trend is hilarious and sings the song constantly #he might ask link to teach him the choreo for hype boy… #urbosa likes older gen kpop like 1st/2nd gen #she probably cried when snsd came back with forever 1 #mipha says she’s not a kpopper but she’s an avid collector of jimin photocards and has spent hundreds to buy his official pcs #(she’s not a solo stan btw she just really admires jimin’s contemporary style of dance) #zelda is one of the baby kpoppies who have 22.6k followers on twitter #she’s gonna follow in revali’s footsteps and become a shooter account i think #king rhoam bosphoramus hyrule knows one (1) kpop song and it’s butter by bts #i could write so much kpoppifying the champions #amihan's revalinkverse

[rainbowsuitcase]

(put your lips on mine and) shut me up | 5K

Namjoon says so many words but never the ones Yoongi wants to hear - and pretends he doesn't.

Namgi

Academic Rivals

Rapper Yoongi

Tip Me!

#ao3 #bts #bts fic #namjoon #yoongi #namjoon fic #yoongi fic #rivals to lovers #rapper yoongi #namgi #namjoon x yoongi

[snowpetaly]

“Be the reason someone believes in the goodness of people”

unknow author

Feel free to use 🤍 credits are welcome!

my prompt (do not copy):

Hoseok loves Christmas, but even more he loves competing for the prettiest Christmas ornaments with his neighbor Yoongi.

The two have known each other since one of them moved into their neighborhood, with a nice and good attitude at first, ending with cutthroat rivalries and mutual teasing. It started with the plants in the garden, the porch, the layout of the stairs in the house, and then it ended with Christmas.

There are many reasons why they should keep their sanity and seriousness, because they are both in their twenties, after all, but not even their friends can stop them in this sick race.

But who knows... maybe this eternal rivalry can turn into something beautiful when one snowstorm, Hoseok falls into a snowdrift in the middle of nowhere and it just so happens that only Yoongi can help him get out.

Should I write this? 🤭 let me knoww~

#november prompts #for writers #aesthetic #moodboard #daily prompt #fanfiction #hoseok moodboard #yoongi #sope fanfiction #yoonseok #rivals to lovers #christmas love #neighbours #moodboards #hoseok #bts #fanfic

[biaswreckmepls]

Fan-Chosen BTS fics #2 - Feb 2024 - Day 7

Mastering Perspective

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52184491

Author: Thekaliwali

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Status: Completed

Chapters: 1/1 (11991 words)

Tags: Author AU

Summary:

“Stay out of my way if you know what’s good for you.”

Jimin blinks slowly at his words, not sure if what he heard is right. There’s no way Jungkook is actually threatening him right now, in the middle of a writing workshop, right?

“Kinda hard to stay out of your way when we’re partners.” Jimin says as he narrows his eyes, his tone of voice challenging. Jungkook licks his bottom lip, eyes narrowing to match Jimin’s before he leans in closer. “Clearly Namjoon thinks you can learn a lot from me. Might be easier if you take notes, I talk fast.”

Or

Jimin and Jungkook are two romance novelists who fight a lot and get paired together for a writers workshop, totally not a cliche enemies to lovers *said with sarcasm*

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52184491

#fan chosen bts fics #fan chosen bts fics 2 #bts fic rec #bangtan fic rec #jikook #jikook fic rec #author au #thekaliwali #mastering perspective #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #10k-20k #they seemingly hate it each other but #:(((( #misunderstandings #listen they're uwu ok trust me

[bangtanseptimus]

BTS imagine: You and RM are both struggling beet farmers. You bond when you  meet at the manure stand at your local market, and rivalry for beet sales and lust compete for dominance in your heart...

#BTS Imagine #bts x reader #kim namjoon #RM #rivals to lovers #beetroot #cottagecore #organic #green aesthetic #farmcore #cottage aesthetic #grow your own #Army #agriculture #Dig for victory #bangtan sonyeondan

[lilprincegoo]

Dancing on Blades by Lesprit

seokjin/jungkook

Alternate Universe - Skating, Alternate Universe - Olympics,figure skating, minor character injury, Alcohol, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Light Misunderstandings, Rivals

25.4k words

rating: M

Olympic figure skater Kim Seokjin is working to make a comeback in the figure skating world; looking to bring himself back up from a slump, he's aiming for gold at the 2022 Beijing Winter Games. It would help if he wasn't so distracted by his hometown rival and young ice prodigy Jeon Jungkook of the South Korean National Hockey Team constantly one-upping him for the best opportunities. Or the fact that he's ridiculously attractive.

#ship: jinkook #au: sports #figure skating #au: rivals #enemies to lovers #slow burn #misunderstandings #seokjin ship #jungkook ship #hockey player jungkook #figure skater seokjin #ao3 #bts ficrec #bts fic rec

[ravenesse]

Strawberry Fields Forever - Final Chapter 🍓

Summary:

An unlikely hero, a family secret exposed, and something sweet to end the summer.

#bts #kim taehyung #taehyung #taejin #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #bts fic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #taejin fic #vjin #vjin fic #taetae #bts taehyung #jin bts #bts jin #strawberry #strawberry farm #rivals to lovers #romeo and juliet #shakespeare #farm au

[okaymoonchild]

My current WIP! I love a fall college AU so I wrote a fall college AU. I’ll update with another chapter in about a week and then I’ll be taking a break as I complete nanowrimo 2022

#bts fic #taekook #college au #taekook college au #rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers #fake relationship #fake dating #namgi #angst

[theharrowing]

Babyface

An up and coming pro wrestling company hires you to work alongside Kim Seokjin—a rising star in the industry, and everyone's favorite heel. His arrogance is dashed when he discovers you are not only talented enough to rival his skills, but that he can't stop thinking about you.

🥇 Seokjin x Athletic Non-binary (AFAB) Reader

🥇 rivals to lovers, pro wrestling au, light angst, light fluff, mature, 18+

🥇 warnings: anxiety and being overwhelmed (general and related to identity), these two are clearly perfect for each other and are both idiots. i might add a smut chapter at some point, but for now, the rating is mature. 

🥇 written for the Catch of the Century Collab! 

🥇 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🥇 posted dec. 2022 | read on ao3 (link coming soon!)

🥇 note: hello, friends! before we begin, i just want to lay down some ground work...usually i do not describe the mc's body in specific terms, but for this fic, the character is "athletic". "athletic" does not automatically suggest anything about their weight, and i do not mention dieting.

🥇 also note: trans athlete opposition is a topic that i will tread lightly around in this fic, but because it is a frustrating, overwhelming issue, it is not something i will go into too much detail about because it is hard to even write about without becoming infinitely annoyed. but in light of that, the mc is combating some feelings in this fic that will make them untrusting and with their guard up, at first. (also, none of the wrestlers on the banner are meant to represent the mc, i just searched for aesthetically pleasing shots lol.) this might be the longest author note i have ever written. wow. 

🥇 also, for the record, reader’s ring name was Wildflower before Indigo came out, okay enjoy! lolol. 

Index:

Part 1: 8.4k words

Part 2: coming soon!

Part 3: coming eventually!

Glossary of Terms:

heel: wrestlers who are villains, rule breakers or bad guys in the storyline, intentionally turning the audience against them.

people's heel: wrestlers who are heels that the audience likes and cheers for.

face: the opposite of a heel; wrestlers who are the good guys, that the audience is expected to side with.

tags: @btsiguess-kpop @btsstan12 @codeinebelle@dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki​ | this is a limited run series, but if you would like to be tagged, comment or dm!

Babyface is copyright 2022 Nabi Olive, all rights reserved. Let’s be friends on Twitter!

#seokjin x reader #non-binary reader #bts angst #bts rivals to lovers #catch of the century #fic: babyface

[eleni-cherie]

ok I'm currently writing another bts fanfic this time w jimin as protagonist (tho all of them appear/will play a big role bc I don't like side characters, if there are any, to only be 'warm bodies' and not be involved) and it'll be so different from my previous stories:

a) it's an action/gangster comedy (jimin, tae, yoongi & oc will be thieves! // the rest will be agents who are after them! )

b) it won't be very realistic but rather fun, entertaining and crack sometimes (w some light angst and sexy moments 👀)

---literally what comes out when your fave game is uncharted 4 and you're a sucker for films like ocean's 11 lol

-also jimin x oc dynamics are a bit based on one of my fave anime pairings hehe

I'm actually quite nervous of how it'll turn out since it'll be my first non-realistic story, but writing it is fun and the characters are fun and I love them so I'm excited haha

no one's probably gonna read it anyway but eh whatever, I felt like writing it so I did

(it's still not finished tho but it's close!)

#jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #fanfiction #jimin au #bts au #thieves #kinda rivals to lovers but not really? #it's complicated ok!

[phas3d]

Crushing on You || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: cute little loser things they do because they’re so down bad for you. inspired by the fucking masterpiece that is ONE DAY ONE NIGHTTTT AHHHHHH by bts ofc. some of these might be creepy but I think they’re cute

DRACO MALFOY

It’s always an enemies to lovers for him, he literally cannot get crushes on someone unless he hates their guts

Probably cause he got daddy issue but meh, we’re not solving that today

He HATED your guts, he has literally thought of getting a hit-man on you before

You’re his rival in every single aspect, even more than Harry is

Academics, you’re better

Athletics, you’re better

Clubs and community, you’re WAY better

He hates you and makes fun of you every single day and time he gets the chance

Even worse, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all come to defend you which makes him even more mad

But overtime, his aggressive staring and cursing under his breath turned into admiration

It all started when one day during Quidditch practice, some annoying 3rd year thought it would funny to mess with Draco’s broom

He ended up malfunctioning during practice, almost speeding into the walls of the school at astounding speeds

But luckily, you came just in time and yanked him off his broom, letting his broon get destroyed into the castle. But he was unharmed and was wrapped securely in your arms

From then on, he’s had a huge crush on you and all of his hatred turned into admiration

His aggressive stares were a bit softer and his insults had a hidden compliment in it

Everyone thinks that maybe he just feels bad and is finally regretting how rude he’s been to you, which is kinda true

He’s always watching over you, kinda like a stalker (because he is one)

He learns your daily routine, your favorite foods, clothing brands, makeup products, skincare routine, everything

Goes as far to hire and pay different students to watch after you if he’s busy

Somehow, you never notice and just think that people are nosy

He takes his research really far though, like straight up creepy

Draco gets his hands on all of your medical history, every single thing about you

He learns what your allergic too, what your rising sign is, how much you weigh at every check up

When he finds out that you’re anemic, he crushes up pills and sneakily adds it to your food to make sure you’re healthy

Does this with other things too, like Vitamin C, iron pills, etc etc etc

But in the end, it helps you a lot and makes you feel much better

And it makes him happy to know that you’re better because of him

One day, you get asked out by none other than Harry Potter

Instantly, Draco is enraged and everything in his sight is going to die a painful death

He feels betrayed by you despite treating you like utter shit for so many years

Not the mention he’s also gotten with maybe two or three other girls

He plans to ruin your date and he succeed

He burns Harry’s outfit, posses someone to spill hot tea on you, and even goes as far to sneak food you’re allergic to into your food

The date ends with you crying back to your dorm and Harry beating himself up

From this, Draco is happy and prepares to come and play knight-in-shining armor for you

But once again, he sees Harry comforting you and giving you a tight hug

Draco is literally about to kill Harry for this, cause ain’t no way he just did ALL of that for Harry to swoop in again

“You can’t take her! I loved her first! I love her more than your stupid four-eyed could ever!” He shouts at Harry

So yeah…. He just confessed out of rage

TOM RIDDLE

Never ever EVER will he get caught lacking for someone

This man keeps all of his lovey dovey feelings to himself, bro literally got a diary 😭

But when he saw you, and just like all of those dumb movies he’s seen, he was instantly love struck by you

He never knew that this was possible, he’s instantly disgusted with himself and does his best to the diminish the crush

But it won’t go away… you’re just perfect in every way

He’s so frustrated that he genuinely thinks of just killing you

But, thank GOD, he decides to not kill you and just become a stalker 😊

He finds out your entire schedule and walking path just so he can get small glimpses of you

Whenever you see him or make eye contact with him, he looks at you like you killed his entire family and he’s coming for revenge

But he’s actually drooling and hearing the most beautiful classical piano in the background

He sees you as a god/goddess that blessed him with your presence

Tom has always seen himself as the chosen one, the one given enough power to destroy and fix the world

And he sees you as his future Queen to the brand new world he will make :) kinda romanticccc

Finds all of your social media and stalks it for hours

He makes one of those fake burner accounts that looks like a bot

So when he follows you, you think nothing of it

But in reality, he’s watching you in depth

Bro finds your SPOTIFY and YOUR AO3 ACCOUNT… That’s how crazy he is

He made an entire playlist of every song you’ve ever posted and mentioned

He listens to it daily :)

Honestly, he’s just like me fr

He’s just a lil crazy and wants to know EVERYTHING about you

If you ever come up to him or are assigned partners, oh my god he’s gonna act so cold

Acts like he hates your guts and despises your existence

But in reality, he’s gonna thank every single religious figure out there for blessing him with allowing him to be in your space

MATTHEO RIDDLE

When he first saw you, he thought you were fine as hell

He was just trying to get into your pants

But when he tried to make a move, you scoffed and shoved him away

Instantly, he was attracted to you

He’s only been rejected like twice, and both times it ended with them begging on their knees for him

He was about to do the exact same thing to you

Unlike the others, he’s the only one that shows it and actively makes a move

Constantly flirts with you, no matter the time or day

Kinda like Filipino courtingggg 🤭

Finds all of your classes and walks you to all of them

Even though you want to walk with your friends, he won’t let you and always pulls you away from them

He skips his classes constantly just so he can be with you and flirt with you more

Even if you keep rejecting him or even slap him, he won’t stop. He loves when girls play hard to get

Sends you flowers, they’re a little bit ugly, but it’s the thought that counts

Sends you chocolates and stuffed animals to the point where a whole section of your dorm is dedicated to the pile of 65 stuffed animals you’ve received

He can’t really write poems or love songs, but he sends you little drawings that are barely readable

He makes little stick figures to represent you guys, one that’s super tall with abs (him) and another one that has hair and a triangle body (you)

Although you can barely understand his chicken scratch drawings, it makes you giggle from how stupid they are

Sometimes it’s him fighting off dragons, or you drowning and he saves you, or him being a rich king and you’re his queen

Never ever gives up on you, no matter what

Will fight off every single competition he has, he doesn’t care if they end up paralyzed

One time, someone older than you guys by one year tried to ask you out

Because he was a grade above you guys, he thought Mattheo wouldn’t fight him

But nopppeeee he was dead wrong, Mattheo sent him to the hospital wing repeatedly for a whole month

Even though the poor guy learned his lesson, Mattheo was mad that not only did he have the balls to ask you out but to also doubt Mattheo’s strength

Surprisingly, he cares a lot towards your friends as well and never leaves him out of the picture which is sweet

If you get a 100 roses from him (an almost daily occurrence), then he’ll get your best friends a small bouquet of 10-12 roses in return

If you get a huge chocolate box of the most expensive chocolates, then your friends get a small little wrapped box of a few chocolates

It’s really sweet and it makes your friends see that he’s actually pretty cool and sweet

Definitely goes around and lies to people by saying you two are dating

Eventually, everyone is fucking tired of you guys and basically sees you as a couple

One day, your friends say they’re gonna have a girls day and ask you to meet them at this nice restaurant

But surprise! The girls lied, you got all dressed up for nothing :(

But surprise again! Mattheo pops up. Your friends set you up with him to help you two to finally start dating

THEODORE NOTT

He’s had plenty of one night stands, weird situation-ships, and more but with you, he’s never had that

You’ve been his friend for ages, before he got hot and ripped

And he appreciated you a lot for that, he felt like he could finally be himself with someone

Over the years, he’s slowly gotten more and more comfortable with you

When he was going to bed, he thought to himself “I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)”

He smiled as he said that, about to sleep until his eyes shot wide open as he repeated what he said

“I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)??!???!!?”

When he realized he likes you, he’s a complete idiot

Normally with girls, he’s super smooth and charismatic - but that’s only because he’s trying to get into their pants

With you, you knew all his tactics and how awful of a person he can and HAS been over the years

You’ve seen him cheat, yell, and sometimes be borderline abusive to his past girlfriends

He starts to worry about how you perceive him and wants to make sure he seems like a good option

He becomes so awkward around you, it’s painful

Starts to be way nicer to you than he ever has been and becomes a lot more chivalrous

He takes off his jacket and shields you from rain, if anyone teases you he’ll get really defensive, he spoon feeds you at times, always pays for your lunch and dinner

Even goes as far as to take you on shopping sprees with no limit - even if you say no he’ll just keep track of everything you look at and buy it for you

Gets you flowers every week and always excuses it as “this is what best friends always do”

You two are basically dating… just without an official title

He’s TERRIFIEDDDD to ask, he’s literally had break downs over his fear of you rejecting him

Please just confess to him yourself, I’m not sure when he’ll get the balls and confidence to do it

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

He’s the most sane out of all of them all 😭

Literally the one line from Taylor Swift, “in a world of boys he’s a gentleman” AHAAAAHHHHH

He gets a crush on you after you two are partnered for a long term project

Loves how smart and dedicated you are, it inspires him to be the same way

Sometimes he purposely acts dumb just so that you’ll help him

Always pays attention to the small details and everything you do

Spoils you ROTTEN omg

Will take you out to go shopping with him and he whips out his black card and casually drops 25k just on clothes and makeup for you

He loves the feeling of spoiling you, makes him feel like your future husband

Praises you for everything, even the bare minimum

“Woah! I like your outfit!” And you’re literally wearing the required school uniform

He wants to date you and call you his own, but he knows he’s a fuck boy deep down

Every time he’s dated a girl, he’s ended up breaking up with them because he can’t commit or just straight up cheating on them

He’s very confident that he could change and be better, but he wants to be perfect before he dares you

Because he sees you as perfect :”) and you only deserve the best

You help motivate him to become better, even though you didn’t know you did

Starts going to the gym, works harder in school, tries to be more nice to everyone

Eventually, he’ll get the guts to ask you out for the Yule ball but he’ll keep saying you’re going as “friends”

But one day you’ll overhear him and his group talking about how fat of a crush he has on you

They all tease him and call him a simp, loverboy, everything

But when he sees that you’ve been listening the entire time, he’s so reddddd

Tries to hide his face and runs away, he avoids you for a little bit

He’s so so so scared of not being good enough or even ruining his relationship with you

He’d genuinely be okay with just being your best friend for all his life whilst loving you, even though it would hurt him so badly

Please just accept this boy 🙏 tell this man he’s enough and that you love him

read more here! :D

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #fluff #crush #harry potter headcanon

[snowpetaly]

Winter Chemistry ❄️🫓

Feel free to use 🤍 credits are welcome!

my idea (do not copy):

When the annual downtown cooking competition opens, Jungkook can't let go this time.

For three years, the first place has been occupied by Park Jimin, a kind-hearted, sweet and beloved man. Nothing annoys Jeongguk more than his smile and perfect face as he accepts the award with his modesty in his voice.

This year, he decides to change that and roll in the big guns. But things don't go as planned...

Christmas has never been so explosive.

#for writers #moodboard #aesthetic #november prompts #fanfiction #daily prompt #jimin #jungkook #jikook moodboard #jikook #kookmin #christmas love #competition #culinary #baking #holidays #bts #moodboards #rivals to lovers #strangers to lovers #rivals #new adult

[biaswreckmepls]

Fan-Chosen BTS fics #2 - Feb 2024 - Day 6

wasted summers

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52318012/chapters/132349000

Author: starships03

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Status: Completed

Chapters: 8/8 (18624 words)

Tags: Growing Up Together AU

Summary:

Jimin is back in the towering apartment building with its cream colored walls and olive doors with gold lettering. Jungkook looks at him, and it’s a little angry, and a lot sad.

Jimin has his arms wrapped around himself. “Please.” It’s a whisper that tastes like desperation and tears. “Please, help me.”

Jungkook watches him for a long moment, before he sighs. He steps aside.

“Come in,” he says.

or

Park Jimin hasn't talked to his childhood best friend after they had an explosive falling out six years ago. He's moved on, living his own life in a different part of the country. Until one phone call from his past forces him to put his life on hold and fly halfway across the country, seeking help from the person he thought he would never talk to again.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52318012/chapters/132349000

#fan chosen bts fics #fan chosen bts fics 2 #jikook #jikook fic rec #bts fic rec #bangtan fic rec #growing up together au #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #this one isn't as much about jikook as it's about jimin's trauma lol #10k-20k #wasted summers #starships03