Just downloaded tumblr months ago so I’m still pretty new to this. I follow a couple of writers that I love (of course you’re in there too) because I love the fics they write. I was just scrolling through this writer’s blog and i saw that you commented under their post and I don’t even know why I was shocked to find out that the writers I follow are all mutuals with each other 😫. Like if I name a couple of the writers I follow, I’m pretty sure they’re your mutuals too
ayeeee ngl babygirl i was really high yesterday so i was pretending to be extroverted and i was answering everything out there hehe (my apologies to everyone who had to deal with me) >_< i don’t usually interact with lot of people outside my acc but i loveee having mutuals im always try to follow everyone back yes im nice like that>_< anyway say the acc names and ill tell u if we’re mutuals LLMAOO NO ACTUALLY IM JOKING IM AFRAID OF PROPLE DONT DO THAT I DONT WANT REAL MUTUALS IM SCARED OF THE INTERNET
Queen idek why i asked what’s your favorite alcoholic drink because I’ve only ever drink girly girl drinks aka soju, truly, twisted tea, etc. I’ve also tried buzzball, crown royal, mimosa, and bbc. (not the bbc we’re thinking of though….)
I don’t turn 21 till later on in the year. What drink do you recommend i should try when I’m at the bar?
giggled like a 13 teenage boy at the bbc acronym. turning 21 to have a drink at a bar is lowkey insaneee u living in the usa? insane too. honestly, im always recommending espresso martini, it’s just sooo good and even better cause coffee yay yummyy or baileys yes yes yes love goated taste i usually like sweet drinks so those are my go to when i go to bars (also mojitos u can never fail with that one is really refreshing and yummy, specially for summerrr) if not then chug that mf beer down like a real woman
pairing: fem! student/gamer reader x student/gamer jeon jungkook
summary: Lately life had been really nice to you. Trying to survive college, staying out of boy drama, hanging out with friends and playing video games until morning. Everything was good… until a group project complicates your routine and you can’t remain unaware that the most familiar and annoying voice in your headphones isn’t as anonymous as you think.
warning! — +18. this story contains a lot of misogynist bad jokes (based on real life gamer trash talk), lot of fat and homophobic jokes too, and so much more. so yes, bad really bad humor. if you’re sensitive please don’t read this. i understand it might be too much for some people. + smut (warning will be added in the respective chapters). this is literally idiots to lovers/annoyances to lovers!
authors note: i actually had this fic for over a year and while i was looking for something funny to read i found this old draft. hope u have fun with this one!!>_<
You sprawled across your bed like a corpse. One arm hanging off the side, hoodie half over your face. You had been watching Youtube videos all day, ignoring the schedule you had made for your time to study. You felt like a goddamn zombie.
College had been… an experience.
Almost a senior, one and half more year to go, and you already felt like your soul had been chewed, spit out and stepped on. The first two years had been a cocktail of partying, “studying” (if you called half-assed cram sessions studying), sleeping in weird positions in lecture halls, and living on energy drinks… Now? You had one class at morning. One. For one hour. And you were already dead inside.
Your laptop sat on your small desk, glowing like a tiny beacon of hope in your dimly lit room. Next to it, a cold can of energy drink, half‑finished. Your two best friends weren’t answering your texts, probably off doing… whatever they were doing that didn’t let them answer you. Fuck them. You rolled your eyes, swung your legs over the side of the bed, and dragged yourself toward the chair.
You could ignore your assignments for a couple hours more.
Just one round…
Gaming had been your sanctuary since forever. Since you were a kid, really. The world could be burning outside your window and you’d only care if your Wi-Fi cut out mid‑match. A little slice of chaos where you could be yourself, loud, annoying, stupid, and do the most trash talk ever. And also… well, humiliating men online never got old.
You remembered the first time you’d logged into a competitive match years ago. Misogyny hit like train wreck. Men shouting into headsets, spewing some combination of threats, nonsense, and self‑aggrandizing horseshit. At first, you’d been quiet. It was honestly shocking the way the talked, almost scary. But with time… well, it actually didn’t get better. But since you couldn’t go against them, at least you could be better than them. So you let them underestimate you. Let them yell and talk shit. Let them think you’d choke. And then… you learned.
Oh, how you learned.
You learned the sweet, intoxicating art of humiliation by keyboard and a cheap headset microphone. A perfectly timed grenade, a calculated headshot, a casual insult delivered between laughs. You had gotten better at games and over time you were just playing for the love of it. You loved, not only getting lost in time, but also winning. You loved hearing the players throw a tantrum. And you loved— more than anything— hearing when guys half cried, half rage‑quit, half made the mistake of thinking they had a chance.
You opened the game you had been playing last week, Call of Duty. Your fingers hovered over your controller as you watched the lobby fill with more players. Voices pinged through your headset. It was usually men who talked, you barely heard any girls but no because they didn’t play but because you knew most of them hated interacting with loud guys. And they had all the reasons, men were annoying. In video games men usually were misogynistic and confident, some nasally and irritating, some sounded like they’d just discovered puberty.
You didn’t like playing when there was a space for them to talk. But when there was, you didn’t run away either.
You tilted your head, calm as ever, impatiently waiting to start. The game downloaded in the background, progress bar crawling lazily across the screen. You watched it, noting how every other player was already jittering, adjusting settings, talking over their headsets, trying to establish dominance before the match even began.
You yawned a little tired. Damn, you should be sleeping.
“Yo… what’s that username?” a nasally voice asked.
“Mommyeatsyouup,” another guy called, sounded almost horrified. “What the fuck is that?.”
“Huh?” you hummed, paying attention after they called your username “Yours?”
“Uh… letjungcook,” the same guy who called you responded with a deep, confident voice. Laughing at his own ingenious username you didn’t understand yet.
“Like yours is any better?” You replied confused.
There was a five seconds silence in the room chat.
“Oh… a girl,” came the chorus, surprise and disgust dripping from every word.
You rolled your eyes, already knowing by the sound of it what was about to come.
“Yeah, don’t cream your pants.”
A deeper voice cut in, clearly trying to dominate. “You’re actually gonna play?”
“No, I just like to enter lobbies to listen to men talk,” you said sarcastically.
“Yo’, chill.”
“Are we sure this is a girl?” you recognize the voice of ‘letjungcook’.
“Are we sure you’re a man?” you clapped back, voice getting a little louder.
“See, I can’t tell if you’re a girl or a twelve year old little boy” He chuckled, clearly trying to bother you.
“Why? ‘cuz you don’t talk to girls or you normally talk to twelve year old little boys?”
Laughter erupted in the lobby after your comment. Two voices, probably his friends, started to make fun of him. You couldn’t hear his answer properly and you honestly didn’t really care either. A couple of groups formed, players scrambling to pick classes, assign loadouts, and talk strategy. Your leaned slightly forward, checked your ammo, mapped out your route in your mind. This was your domain, you knew every map like the palm of your hand.
One irritating voice distracted you.
“Great. We’re with the girl.” He groaned. “I’m not carrying you, just so we’re clear.”
“Bet you can’t even carry a 2kg, lazy-ass.”
“Go make me a sandwich.”
The match started.
You slid silently into cover. The map was wide, with multiple paths, buildings, and open areas, perfect for a calculated, fluid approach. You checked corners, vaulted low walls, and moved in patterns that kept you largely unseen. Your first engagement came quickly when you spotted an opponent flanking, calculated the timing, and executed a clean takedown.
Grenades popped, gunfire echoed from multiple directions. You stayed calm, tracking movement across the map, listening for footsteps, reloads, and voice cues. Every step was fast, you used crouches, jumps, and angles to minimize exposure while maximizing your lethality. By the time the first few opponents had noticed you, you had already moved to a more advantageous position, picking off another enemy before they could respond.
“Well, who’s carrying the group now? Everyone say ‘thank you, Mommy’. Come one, guys. You can say it.” You chanted, killing two more.
One of the other guys muttered. “She’s mentally ill.”
“You’re fucking insane” The guy groaned, flailing.
“It’s easy, ‘thank you, mommy’” You repeated mockingly as another player tried to trap you in a corner.
Letjungcook killed him before he could shot you once more.
The match ended. The first round ended. You had five kills, Letjungcook had two, his friends had one each.
For the second round the groups reshuffled. You continue with that guy again though. You noted the same aggressive tendencies, predictable behaviors, and communication patterns. Men were really so predictable when they talked trash. This time you didn’t care to hide but to make more kills than anyone. You decided to attack everyone on the way. Within moments of the match starting, you had located multiple opponents and killed most of them.
And the second round ended half an hour later too. You had dominated. Your score dwarfed all others. You leaned back briefly, sipping from your cold energy drink, eyes scanning the next lobby as players scrambled to ready themselves again.
“You’re welcome,” you heard him saying.
“You all got one kill each and I got five.” You scoffed. “You should be kneeling, boy.”
You knew he wouldn’t admit he got only two. It would be an opening for you to talk more shit about him.
“And you should be in the kitchen.” He clapped back. “Let’s go another round. Can someone put the fatty in another team?”
“Damn, why are you talking about your boy like that?” You leaned back in your chair.
You could hear a couple of giggles in the back and another conversation going too.
“I like her.”
“Guk, she’s killing you.”
Guk.
“Oh, so your name is Guk?” You snorted, like it was funny. “What a sweet name for a good boy.”
You heard another big and scandalous laugh. “He is a good boy.”
“Good boy,” the other guys started chanting.
The lobby split into different group. You were now against Guk.
“Oh, we have the bitch in our team,” someone complained.
“Girl I have twelve more kills than you. Keep that mouth shout.” There was two seconds of silence you took in your favour. “Yeah, like that. Be a good boy and shut up.”
“We’re gonna lose because of this bitch. She should be in the kitchen,” other guy said.
“Kitchen jokes, wow. And I thought men supposed to be funny.” You fake yawned.
“Go make me a sandwich, fatty.”
“Why? Can’t reach the counter, shorty?”
Laughter explode as the match started.
“He can’t!,” his friends laughed at him.
You decided to shut up and focus on the game since the team you were, at least most of them, barely had any kills the round before.
You were not going to lose.
“Okay, okay. Let’s lock in.”
A firefight erupted in the central building. You entered fast, low to the ground, taking positions behind cover, waiting for an opening. You timed your shots perfectly, taking advantage of the chaos as your opponents argued, flailed, or misstepped. Each kill was really fast and easy, silent to those outside your headset but devastating in scoreboard results.
“Are you seriously all dying?”
Oh, they were so bad.
“Miss me, baby?”
Guk— or whatever his actual name was — made his presence known quickly. You jumped to the other side of the building, trying to make the blood of your screen dissipate by healing. He had been quick to caught you out of guard while you were killing his team mate.
“Is this my good boy Guk?” You muttered, loading your gun while trying to find him now. “Of course I miss you. I think you’re the only one left from your little boys team.”
“Tae?” You heard him call, you knew now that the other guy who was laughing at him early was in fact his friend.
“I’m dying. Come here fast, dude.”
“Aw, it’s okay.” You looked out the window in the tower, trying to localize them. “I’ll give you time to go and heal your friend. I know you need backup, baby.”
“Shut up, tubby.” Tae tried to defend his friend.
“Why? Are you mad I’m disrespecting your boyfriend?”
There was some seconds of silence. You knew that made them a little mad. You tried not to laugh.
His teammates tried to coordinate, but you were already getting bored. You barely needed to glance at the mini-map, instinct and experience guided you to know exactly what they were thinking on doing. And also because they were talking their strategies, really loud.
The match ended two minutes later.
Victory.
You had killed them all— the ones outside your group of course.
You exhaled slowly, smiling faintly and a little bored of how easy that was. The other players had disconnected or were mumbling their frustrations in the background with insults ands loud noises. You didn’t need to speak to feel the satisfaction.
Guk barked again. “That was a charity round!”
“The only charity here is me still talking to you,” You said, as you started looking at the scores, your kills racking up, their cries of frustration and bad insults echoing in your headset.
“Fuck you. Let’s go again.”
“Oh, hell nah. This isn’t real competition. Even an armless guy plays better than you and your team.” You heard him cracked his neck.
“Let’s go again. Are you afraid now?” He tried again, trying to annoy you into playing another round.
You snorted, loud enough to make him angrier. “Ever since you opened your mouth, you haven’t won a round if it wasn’t with me.”
“You know—”
“I’m leaving now. Go play with your twelve years old little boys.” You cut him off. “Now I know why you liked them so much. I bet they rank better than you anyway.”
“You fucking—”
“Bye, baby boy. Be good for mommy.”
Before he could answer you logged off and queued in another game.
You laugh slightly. It was always funny the banter with angry man. They were always so sensitive.
Your friends weren’t answering, the world outside didn’t exist. All that existed was you winning those games back to back. You moved your screen, adjusted your headset, and prepared to enter into another match with other people. The thrill about playing video games had become in finding someone who could outplay you now. Which was almost rare.
You leaned back slightly, a little bored, fingers resting lightly on your controller. Another round was about to begin.
————————
You had barely managed to get your laptop into your bag before the next class started. You dragged yourself into the lecture hall, hair slightly mussed, hoodie hanging loosely over your frame. You felt so exhausted it was almost taking all your strength to be awake.
You had meant to play for just a few rounds, but as the sun had crept through the blinds, you realized you had lost track of time entirely. Now you were paying for it with heavy eyelids, dragging feet, and a mind that barely wanted to exist outside the warmth of your bed— or, more accurately, the remnants of your mattress from the previous night that you hadn’t touched.
The lecture hall was rows of seats rising like stairs, the polished wood of the desks cold under your palms, there was a lot of students taking places in the front rows and most of them had coffee cups. You slid into a seat in the back row, far enough from the front that the professor would assume you were paying attention since he clearly wouldn’t be able to see you from so far.
The board read “Advanced Technical Animation” in neat, almost smug lettering. You had never been terrible at school, but you didn’t particularly care for this class. Two semesters left before you could practically coast to your degree, and this was a required class you had chosen almost arbitrarily because of a friend’s recommendation and the fact that the professor had a decent rating online.
The professor’s voice, monotone and boring, started filling the room. He spoke about corrective blend shapes and pose-space deformation and more stuff you were losing track of. Your eyes began to droop. You rested your chin lightly against your hand, letting your head sag forward just a little, pretending to take notes, though the pen barely touched the paper.
Sleep came quickly, not heavy but enough to blur whatever was happening around. You drifted in and out, absorbing fragments of words: “advanced character rigs,” “facial rigging,” “deformation techniques,” “blah blah blah…” Your mind remained mostly elsewhere, mostly regretting staying too late playing some stupid game.
You could feel yourself smiling faintly even as your eyelids fluttered. You couldn’t wait to get some sleep.
“Group sixteen,” the professor’s voice cut through your nice nap when you heard your name be called. “That will be Y/n… and Jeon Jungkook.”
Your head snapped up so fast you almost knocked your things over. Your mind scrambled. Who the fuck was Jeon Jungkook? The name resonated faintly somewhere in the back of your memory.
You scanned the room, pretending to be looking for the right slide or some imaginary note, but your eyes locked on a guy sitting somewhere closer to the center, leaning casually against his desk. He hadn’t moved yet, hadn’t reacted, but the recognition hit you like a sharp gust of wind.
Your heart skipped a beat
Oh, no. Ohhh no. No, no, no…
You froze, a little too stiff, remembering the end of sophomore year, late one Friday night. A hookup you had never really followed up on. The kind of one-off that was messy, fun, and slightly regrettable. You had never talked after that, not that you remembered anyway.
And now here he was, almost two years later, the same classroom, the same professor, and apparently now your partner for a project your didn’t want to think about just yet.
Jeon Jungkook
He finally looked up, scanning the room until your eyes met. You felt a shiver, mostly from surprise, mostly from nerves, but mostly from sheer disbelief. Did he remember? Would he even care? You had no idea. The last you remembered, you had left his room the next morning before he woke up, apologizing quietly in your head as your slipped out.
You never talked to him again.
The professor continued, oblivious. “You have ten minutes to discuss schedules, roles, and plan your initial meeting. Please keep in mind this is a big note for the class.”
You exhaled softly, pretending to stretch, then turned toward Jungkook. He was standing now, moving toward you with that familiar, easy gait you remembered, carrying the kind of self-assurance that only came with good grades, a strong confidence, and probably too many compliments over the years. You mentally prepared yourself as he walked to you.
“Uh… hey,” he said lightly, a little awkward, a little like he wasn’t sure how to start.
“Hey,” you replied very calm and smooth. Internally, you were repeating to yourself to not make it obvious you remember him.
“I guess we’re partners for the project,” he said, glancing down at the handout the professor had left on each desk.
“Looks like it,” you said, scanning the paper. “Animation… yay, fun stuffs.”
He nodded, frowning slightly to your confusing words. “Yeah. So… uh… when are you free to meet? I can do afternoons.”
You tilted your head slightly, pretending to consider it. “Afternoons are okay. I have some classes before six, though, so maybe right after. Anywhere you want to meet?”
“Library? Or maybe the cafe?”
“Library works,” you said immediately. You had been spending enough time with caffeine lately to know it would probably be bad to be so close to a coffee machine.
You two settled a time, quickly coordinating your schedules, discussing tentative roles for the project. You felt your nerves settle slightly as you realized he wasn’t making any move to comment on your shared past.
That was good. That was very good.
Class ended sooner than expected, maybe because the professor’s lecture had been boring enough to make you almost happy to leave. You gathered your things, slid on your hoodie again, and headed toward the door.
As you walked past, you heard a voice behind you, closer to Jungkook. A guy you didn’t recognize was showing him something on his phone.
“I found her, man!,” the guy said.
You don’t care enough to eavesdrop so you simply walked away down the hall, past students who were chatting idly and toward the cafe machine tucked into the corner.
A third free cheap coffee wouldn’t kill you anyway.
You grabbed a cup, steaming and bitter, and made your way toward your next class, keeping your thoughts focused on your next assignments.
The hallways smelled faintly of disinfectant and leftover cafeteria food. You took a sip of your coffee as you reached your next classroom. It didn’t start until next hour so it was practically empty. Perfect, that way you could have time for you. You dropped your bag in a seat, leaned back, and stretched out, ready to sneak in a nap while waiting for the professor and students to arrive.
Your phone buzzed. One quick vibration that immediately made you know from what app was it. You frowned slightly, sitting up just enough to see the screen.
letjungcook sent you a friend request.
You stared at the screen, your mind flickering back to the previous lobbies you had entered the night before, trying to find a moment you gave someone your username— which, honesty, was a little dumb of you to have the same username in discord as you did in steam— but you never shared it with anyone who you didn’t like or thought was bad so…
Who the fuck was this guy?
so yeah… new fic!! yayyy. i had this for more than 8 months in my drafts and lowkey i thought it was funny enough to edit and post it so lmk what u think so far >_< this was heavily inspired by those tiktok videos of gamer girls winning match with obnoxious men
btw guys if this is not ur thing u can tell me to remove you from my perm taglist lol i won’t be offended (yes i will)
OKAY TO WHOEVER FOLLOWED ME ON SPOTIFY AND LIKES WAVE TO EARTH IM GONNA NEED YOU TO CONTACT ME RIGHT NOW THIS IS SOSOSSO SRIROUS FOR ME IM NOT JOKING PLEASE PLEASE LEASE
Queen what are u talking about writing more I bet u have 19393873 already written drafts of the all of the ur on going fics just drop them all
LMAO I JUST READ THIS NO YOURE SO RIGHT I HAVE LIKE 80 DRAFTS NO JOKE. pLEEASEEE TAKE MY PHONE AWAY I NEED TO STOP POSTING FICS ITS TAKING ME FOREVER TO FINISH JUST ONE
hey guys anyone here that fucks with ao3 can u give me some vm*n fic recs that are not old asf. i just woke up with some craving for this please please please
STOP LIKING MY FICS I NEED U ALL TO FOCUS ON THIS GUYS IM NOT JOKING I ONLY HAVE 3 HOURS OF ME TIME AND I NEED TO SPEND THEM READING GAY FICS SOMEONE GET ME THOSE FOLDERS RIGHT THE FUCK NOWWW
hey guys anyone here that fucks with ao3 can u give me some vm*n fic recs that are not old asf. i just woke up with some craving for this please please please
depends on what we doingggg during the night hehe but my go to it’s always tinto de verano ayeee arriba españa. and if im feeling like spending money then espresso martini. i could drink 10k of them in one night dont even joke with meee
pairing: fem! student/gamer reader x student/gamer jeon jungkook
summary: Lately life had been really nice to you. Trying to survive college, staying out of boy drama, hanging out with friends and playing video games until morning. Everything was good… until a group project complicates your routine and you can’t remain unaware that the most familiar and annoying voice in your headphones isn’t as anonymous as you think.
warning! — +18. this story contains a lot of misogynist bad jokes (based on real life gamer shit talk), lot of fat and homophobic jokes too, and so much more. so yes, bad really bad humor. if you’re sensitive please don’t read this. i understand it might be too much for some people. + smut (warning will be added in the respective chapters). this is literally idiots to lovers/annoyances to lovers!
authors note: i actually had this fic for over a year and while i was looking for something funny to read i found this old draft. hope u have fun with this one!!>_<
You sprawled across your bed like a corpse. One arm hanging off the side, hoodie half over your face. You had been watching Youtube videos all day, ignoring the schedule you had made for your time to study. You felt like a goddamn zombie.
College had been… an experience.
Almost a senior, one and half more year to go, and you already felt like your soul had been chewed, spit out and stepped on. The first two years had been a cocktail of partying, “studying” (if you called half-assed cram sessions studying), sleeping in weird positions in lecture halls, and living on energy drinks… Now? You had one class at morning. One. For one hour. And you were already dead inside.
Your laptop sat on your small desk, glowing like a tiny beacon of hope in your dimly lit room. Next to it, a cold can of energy drink, half‑finished. Your two best friends weren’t answering your texts, probably off doing… whatever they were doing that didn’t let them answer you. Fuck them. You rolled your eyes, swung your legs over the side of the bed, and dragged yourself toward the chair.
You could ignore your assignments for a couple hours more.
Just one round…
Gaming had been your sanctuary since forever. Since you were a kid, really. The world could be burning outside your window and you’d only care if your Wi-Fi cut out mid‑match. A little slice of chaos where you could be yourself, loud, annoying, stupid, and do the most trash talk ever. And also… well, humiliating men online never got old.
You remembered the first time you’d logged into a competitive match years ago. Misogyny hit like train wreck. Men shouting into headsets, spewing some combination of threats, nonsense, and self‑aggrandizing horseshit. At first, you’d been quiet. It was honestly shocking the way the talked, almost scary. But with time… well, it actually didn’t get better. But since you couldn’t go against them, at least you could be better than them. So you let them underestimate you. Let them yell and talk shit. Let them think you’d choke. And then… you learned.
Oh, how you learned.
You learned the sweet, intoxicating art of humiliation by keyboard and a cheap headset microphone. A perfectly timed grenade, a calculated headshot, a casual insult delivered between laughs. You had gotten better at games and over time you were just playing for the love of it. You loved, not only getting lost in time, but also winning. You loved hearing the players throw a tantrum. And you loved— more than anything— hearing when guys half cried, half rage‑quit, half made the mistake of thinking they had a chance.
You opened the game you had been playing last week, Call of Duty. Your fingers hovered over your controller as you watched the lobby fill with more players. Voices pinged through your headset. It was usually men who talked, you barely heard any girls but no because they didn’t play but because you knew most of them hated interacting with loud guys. And they had all the reasons, men were annoying. In video games men usually were misogynistic and confident, some nasally and irritating, some sounded like they’d just discovered puberty.
You didn’t like playing when there was a space for them to talk. But when there was, you didn’t run away either.
You tilted your head, calm as ever, impatiently waiting to start. The game downloaded in the background, progress bar crawling lazily across the screen. You watched it, noting how every other player was already jittering, adjusting settings, talking over their headsets, trying to establish dominance before the match even began.
You yawned a little tired. Damn, you should be sleeping.
“Yo… what’s that username?” a nasally voice asked.
“Mommyeatsyouup,” another guy called, sounded almost horrified. “What the fuck is that?.”
“Huh?” you hummed, paying attention after they called your username “Yours?”
“Uh… letjungcook,” the same guy who called you responded with a deep, confident voice. Laughing at his own ingenious username you didn’t understand yet.
“Like yours is any better?” You replied confused.
There was a five seconds silence in the room chat.
“Oh… a girl,” came the chorus, surprise and disgust dripping from every word.
You rolled your eyes, already knowing by the sound of it what was about to come.
“Yeah, don’t cream your pants.”
A deeper voice cut in, clearly trying to dominate. “You’re actually gonna play?”
“No, I just like to enter game lobbies to listen to men talk,” you said sarcastically.
“Yo’, chill.”
“Are we sure this is a girl?” you recognize the voice of ‘letjungcook’.
“Are we sure you’re a man?” you clapped back, voice getting a little louder.
“See, I can’t tell if you’re a girl or a twelve year old little boy” He chuckled, clearly trying to bother you.
“Why? ‘cuz you don’t talk to girls or you normally talk to twelve year old little boys?”
Laughter erupted in the lobby after your comment. Two voices, probably his friends, started to make fun of him. You couldn’t hear his answer properly and you honestly didn’t really care either. A couple of groups formed, players scrambling to pick classes, assign loadouts, and talk strategy. Your leaned slightly forward, checked your ammo, mapped out your route in your mind. This was your domain, you knew every map like the palm of your hand.
One irritating voice distracted you.
“Great. We’re with the girl.” He groaned. “I’m not carrying you, just so we’re clear.”
“Bet you can’t even carry a 2kg, lazy-ass.”
“Go make me a sandwich.”
The match started.
You slid silently into cover. The map was wide, with multiple paths, buildings, and open areas, perfect for a calculated, fluid approach. You checked corners, vaulted low walls, and moved in patterns that kept you largely unseen. Your first engagement came quickly when you spotted an opponent flanking, calculated the timing, and executed a clean takedown.
Grenades popped, gunfire echoed from multiple directions. You stayed calm, tracking movement across the map, listening for footsteps, reloads, and voice cues. Every step was fast, you used crouches, jumps, and angles to minimize exposure while maximizing your lethality. By the time the first few opponents had noticed you, you had already moved to a more advantageous position, picking off another enemy before they could respond.
“Well, who’s carrying the group now? Everyone say ‘thank you, Mommy’. Come one, guys. You can say it.” You chanted, killing two more.
One of the other guys muttered. “She’s mentally ill.”
“You’re fucking insane” The guy groaned, flailing.
“It’s easy, ‘thank you, mommy’” You repeated mockingly as another player tried to trap you in a corner.
Letjungcook killed him before he could shot you once more.
The match ended. The first round ended. You had five kills, Letjungcook had two, his friends had one each.
For the second round the groups reshuffled. You continue with that guy again though. You noted the same aggressive tendencies, predictable behaviors, and communication patterns. Men were really so predictable when they talked trash. This time you didn’t care to hide but to make more kills than anyone. You decided to attack everyone on the way. Within moments of the match starting, you had located multiple opponents and killed most of them.
And the second round ended half an hour later too. You had dominated. Your score dwarfed all others. You leaned back briefly, sipping from your cold energy drink, eyes scanning the next lobby as players scrambled to ready themselves again.
“You’re welcome,” you heard him saying.
“You all got one kill each and I got five.” You scoffed. “You should be kneeling, boy.”
You knew he wouldn’t admit he got only two. It would be an opening for you to talk more shit about him.
“And you should be in the kitchen.” He clapped back. “Let’s go another round. Can someone put the fatty in another team?”
“Damn, why are you talking about your boy like that?” You leaned back in your chair.
You could hear a couple of giggles in the back and another conversation going too.
“I like her.”
“Guk, she’s killing you.”
Guk.
“Oh, so your name is Guk?” You snorted, like it was funny. “What a sweet name for a good boy.”
You heard another big and scandalous laugh. “He is a good boy.”
“Good boy,” the other guys started chanting.
The lobby split into different group. You were now against Guk.
“Oh, we have the bitch in our team,” someone complained.
“Girl I have twelve more kills than you. Keep that mouth shout.” There was two seconds of silence you took in your favour. “Yeah, like that. Be a good boy and shut up.”
“We’re gonna lose because of this bitch. She should be in the kitchen,” other guy said.
“Kitchen jokes, wow. And I thought men supposed to be funny.” You fake yawned.
“Go make me a sandwich, fatty.”
“Why? Can’t reach the counter, shorty?”
Laughter explode as the match started.
“He can’t!,” his friends laughed at him.
You decided to shut up and focus on the game since the team you were, at least most of them, barely had any kills the round before.
You were not going to lose.
“Okay, okay. Let’s lock in.”
A firefight erupted in the central building. You entered fast, low to the ground, taking positions behind cover, waiting for an opening. You timed your shots perfectly, taking advantage of the chaos as your opponents argued, flailed, or misstepped. Each kill was really fast and easy, silent to those outside your headset but devastating in scoreboard results.
“Are you seriously all dying?”
Oh, they were so bad.
“Miss me, baby?”
Guk— or whatever his actual name was — made his presence known quickly. You jumped to the other side of the building, trying to make the blood of your screen dissipate by healing. He had been quick to caught you out of guard while you were killing his team mate.
“Is this my good boy Guk?” You muttered, loading your gun while trying to find him now. “Of course I miss you. I think you’re the only one left from your little boys team.”
“Tae?” You heard him call, you knew now that the other guy who was laughing at him early was in fact his friend.
“I’m dying. Come here fast, dude.”
“Aw, it’s okay.” You looked out the window in the tower, trying to localize them. “I’ll give you time to go and heal your friend. I know you need backup, baby.”
“Shut up, tubby.” Tae tried to defend his friend.
“Why? Are you mad I’m disrespecting your boyfriend?”
There was some seconds of silence. You knew that made them a little mad. You tried not to laugh.
His teammates tried to coordinate, but you were already getting bored. You barely needed to glance at the mini-map, instinct and experience guided you to know exactly what they were thinking on doing. And also because they were talking their strategies, really loud.
The match ended two minutes later.
Victory.
You had killed them all— the ones outside your group of course.
You exhaled slowly, smiling faintly and a little bored of how easy that was. The other players had disconnected or were mumbling their frustrations in the background with insults ands loud noises. You didn’t need to speak to feel the satisfaction.
Guk barked again. “That was a charity round!”
“The only charity here is me still talking to you,” You said, as you started looking at the scores, your kills racking up, their cries of frustration and bad insults echoing in your headset.
“Fuck you. Let’s go again.”
“Oh, hell nah. This isn’t real competition. Even an armless guy plays better than you and your team.” You heard him cracked his neck.
“Let’s go again. Are you afraid now?” He tried again, trying to annoy you into playing another round.
You snorted, loud enough to make him angrier. “Ever since you opened your mouth, you haven’t won a round if it wasn’t with me.”
“You know—”
“I’m leaving now. Go play with your twelve years old little boys.” You cut him off. “Now I know why you liked them so much. I bet they rank better than you anyway.”
“You fucking—”
“Bye, baby boy. Be good for mommy.”
Before he could answer you logged off and queued in another game.
You laugh slightly. It was always funny the banter with angry man. They were always so sensitive.
Your friends weren’t answering, the world outside didn’t exist. All that existed was you winning those games back to back. You moved your screen, adjusted your headset, and prepared to enter into another match with other people. The thrill about playing video games had become in finding someone who could outplay you now. Which was almost rare.
You leaned back slightly, a little bored, fingers resting lightly on your controller. Another round was about to begin.
————————
You had barely managed to get your laptop into your bag before the next class started. You dragged yourself into the lecture hall, hair slightly mussed, hoodie hanging loosely over your frame. You felt so exhausted it was almost taking all your strength to be awake.
You had meant to play for just a few rounds, but as the sun had crept through the blinds, you realized you had lost track of time entirely. Now you were paying for it with heavy eyelids, dragging feet, and a mind that barely wanted to exist outside the warmth of your bed— or, more accurately, the remnants of your mattress from the previous night that you hadn’t touched.
The lecture hall was rows of seats rising like stairs, the polished wood of the desks cold under your palms, there was a lot of students taking places in the front rows and most of them had coffee cups. You slid into a seat in the back row, far enough from the front that the professor would assume you were paying attention since he clearly wouldn’t be able to see you from so far.
The board read “Advanced Technical Animation” in neat, almost smug lettering. You had never been terrible at school, but you didn’t particularly care for this class. Two semesters left before you could practically coast to your degree, and this was a required class you had chosen almost arbitrarily because of a friend’s recommendation and the fact that the professor had a decent rating online.
The professor’s voice, monotone and boring, started filling the room. He spoke about corrective blend shapes and pose-space deformation and more stuff you were losing track of. Your eyes began to droop. You rested your chin lightly against your hand, letting your head sag forward just a little, pretending to take notes, though the pen barely touched the paper.
Sleep came quickly, not heavy but enough to blur whatever was happening around. You drifted in and out, absorbing fragments of words: “advanced character rigs,” “facial rigging,” “deformation techniques,” “blah blah blah…” Your mind remained mostly elsewhere, mostly regretting staying too late playing some stupid game.
You could feel yourself smiling faintly even as your eyelids fluttered. You couldn’t wait to get some sleep.
“Group sixteen,” the professor’s voice cut through your nice nap when you heard your name be called. “That will be Y/n… and Jeon Jungkook.”
Your head snapped up so fast you almost knocked your things over. Your mind scrambled. Who the fuck was Jeon Jungkook? The name resonated faintly somewhere in the back of your memory.
You scanned the room, pretending to be looking for the right slide or some imaginary note, but your eyes locked on a guy sitting somewhere closer to the center, leaning casually against his desk. He hadn’t moved yet, hadn’t reacted, but the recognition hit you like a sharp gust of wind.
Your heart skipped a beat
Oh, no. Ohhh no. No, no, no…
You froze, a little too stiff, remembering the end of sophomore year, late one Friday night. A hookup you had never really followed up on. The kind of one-off that was messy, fun, and slightly regrettable. You had never talked after that, not that you remembered anyway.
And now here he was, almost two years later, the same classroom, the same professor, and apparently now your partner for a project your didn’t want to think about just yet.
Jeon Jungkook
He finally looked up, scanning the room until your eyes met. You felt a shiver, mostly from surprise, mostly from nerves, but mostly from sheer disbelief. Did he remember? Would he even care? You had no idea. The last you remembered, you had left his room the next morning before he woke up, apologizing quietly in your head as your slipped out.
You never talked to him again.
The professor continued, oblivious. “You have ten minutes to discuss schedules, roles, and plan your initial meeting. Please keep in mind this is a big note for the class.”
You exhaled softly, pretending to stretch, then turned toward Jungkook. He was standing now, moving toward you with that familiar, easy gait you remembered, carrying the kind of self-assurance that only came with good grades, a strong confidence, and probably too many compliments over the years. You mentally prepared yourself as he walked to you.
“Uh… hey,” he said lightly, a little awkward, a little like he wasn’t sure how to start.
“Hey,” you replied very calm and smooth. Internally, you were repeating to yourself to not make it obvious you remember him.
“I guess we’re partners for the project,” he said, glancing down at the handout the professor had left on each desk.
“Looks like it,” you said, scanning the paper. “Animation… yay, fun stuffs.”
He nodded, frowning slightly to your confusing words. “Yeah. So… uh… when are you free to meet? I can do afternoons.”
You tilted your head slightly, pretending to consider it. “Afternoons are okay. I have some classes before six, though, so maybe right after. Anywhere you want to meet?”
“Library? Or maybe the cafe?”
“Library works,” you said immediately. You had been spending enough time with caffeine lately to know it would probably be bad to be so close to a coffee machine.
You two settled a time, quickly coordinating your schedules, discussing tentative roles for the project. You felt your nerves settle slightly as you realized he wasn’t making any move to comment on your shared past.
That was good. That was very good.
Class ended sooner than expected, maybe because the professor’s lecture had been boring enough to make you almost happy to leave. You gathered your things, slid on your hoodie again, and headed toward the door.
As you walked past, you heard a voice behind you, closer to Jungkook. A guy you didn’t recognize was showing him something on his phone.
“I found her, man!,” the guy said.
You don’t care enough to eavesdrop so you simply walked away down the hall, past students who were chatting idly and toward the cafe machine tucked into the corner.
A third free cheap coffee wouldn’t kill you anyway.
You grabbed a cup, steaming and bitter, and made your way toward your next class, keeping your thoughts focused on your next assignments.
The hallways smelled faintly of disinfectant and leftover cafeteria food. You took a sip of your coffee as you reached your next classroom. It didn’t start until next hour so it was practically empty. Perfect, that way you could have time for you. You dropped your bag in a seat, leaned back, and stretched out, ready to sneak in a nap while waiting for the professor and students to arrive.
Your phone buzzed. One quick vibration that immediately made you know from what app was it. You frowned slightly, sitting up just enough to see the screen.
letjungcook sent you a friend request.
You stared at the screen, your mind flickering back to the previous lobbies you had entered the night before, trying to find a moment you gave someone your username— which, honesty, was a little dumb of you to have the same username in discord as you did in steam— but you never shared it with anyone who you didn’t like or thought was bad so…
Who the fuck was this guy?
so yeah… new fic!! yayyy. i had this for more than 8 months in my drafts and lowkey i thought it was funny enough to edit and post it so lmk what u think so far >_<
btw guys if this is not ur thing u can tell me to remove you from my perm taglist lol i won’t be offended (yes i will)
pairing: fem! student/gamer reader x student/gamer jeon jungkook
summary: Lately life had been really nice to you. Trying to survive college, staying out of boy drama, hanging out with friends and playing video games until morning. Everything was good… until a group project complicates your routine and you can’t remain unaware that the most familiar and annoying voice in your headphones isn’t as anonymous as you think.
warning! — +18. this story contains a lot of misogynist bad jokes (based on real life gamer trash talk), lot of fat and homophobic jokes too, and so much more. so yes, bad really bad humor. if you’re sensitive please don’t read this. i understand it might be too much for some people. + smut (warning will be added in the respective chapters). this is literally idiots to lovers/annoyances to lovers!
authors note: i actually had this fic for over a year and while i was looking for something funny to read i found this old draft. hope u have fun with this one!!>_<
You sprawled across your bed like a corpse. One arm hanging off the side, hoodie half over your face. You had been watching Youtube videos all day, ignoring the schedule you had made for your time to study. You felt like a goddamn zombie.
College had been… an experience.
Almost a senior, one and half more year to go, and you already felt like your soul had been chewed, spit out and stepped on. The first two years had been a cocktail of partying, “studying” (if you called half-assed cram sessions studying), sleeping in weird positions in lecture halls, and living on energy drinks… Now? You had one class at morning. One. For one hour. And you were already dead inside.
Your laptop sat on your small desk, glowing like a tiny beacon of hope in your dimly lit room. Next to it, a cold can of energy drink, half‑finished. Your two best friends weren’t answering your texts, probably off doing… whatever they were doing that didn’t let them answer you. Fuck them. You rolled your eyes, swung your legs over the side of the bed, and dragged yourself toward the chair.
You could ignore your assignments for a couple hours more.
Just one round…
Gaming had been your sanctuary since forever. Since you were a kid, really. The world could be burning outside your window and you’d only care if your Wi-Fi cut out mid‑match. A little slice of chaos where you could be yourself, loud, annoying, stupid, and do the most trash talk ever. And also… well, humiliating men online never got old.
You remembered the first time you’d logged into a competitive match years ago. Misogyny hit like train wreck. Men shouting into headsets, spewing some combination of threats, nonsense, and self‑aggrandizing horseshit. At first, you’d been quiet. It was honestly shocking the way the talked, almost scary. But with time… well, it actually didn’t get better. But since you couldn’t go against them, at least you could be better than them. So you let them underestimate you. Let them yell and talk shit. Let them think you’d choke. And then… you learned.
Oh, how you learned.
You learned the sweet, intoxicating art of humiliation by keyboard and a cheap headset microphone. A perfectly timed grenade, a calculated headshot, a casual insult delivered between laughs. You had gotten better at games and over time you were just playing for the love of it. You loved, not only getting lost in time, but also winning. You loved hearing the players throw a tantrum. And you loved— more than anything— hearing when guys half cried, half rage‑quit, half made the mistake of thinking they had a chance.
You opened the game you had been playing last week, Call of Duty. Your fingers hovered over your controller as you watched the lobby fill with more players. Voices pinged through your headset. It was usually men who talked, you barely heard any girls but no because they didn’t play but because you knew most of them hated interacting with loud guys. And they had all the reasons, men were annoying. In video games men usually were misogynistic and confident, some nasally and irritating, some sounded like they’d just discovered puberty.
You didn’t like playing when there was a space for them to talk. But when there was, you didn’t run away either.
You tilted your head, calm as ever, impatiently waiting to start. The game downloaded in the background, progress bar crawling lazily across the screen. You watched it, noting how every other player was already jittering, adjusting settings, talking over their headsets, trying to establish dominance before the match even began.
You yawned a little tired. Damn, you should be sleeping.
“Yo… what’s that username?” a nasally voice asked.
“Mommyeatsyouup,” another guy called, sounded almost horrified. “What the fuck is that?.”
“Huh?” you hummed, paying attention after they called your username “Yours?”
“Uh… letjungcook,” the same guy who called you responded with a deep, confident voice. Laughing at his own ingenious username you didn’t understand yet.
“Like yours is any better?” You replied confused.
There was a five seconds silence in the room chat.
“Oh… a girl,” came the chorus, surprise and disgust dripping from every word.
You rolled your eyes, already knowing by the sound of it what was about to come.
“Yeah, don’t cream your pants.”
A deeper voice cut in, clearly trying to dominate. “You’re actually gonna play?”
“No, I just like to enter lobbies to listen to men talk,” you said sarcastically.
“Yo’, chill.”
“Are we sure this is a girl?” you recognize the voice of ‘letjungcook’.
“Are we sure you’re a man?” you clapped back, voice getting a little louder.
“See, I can’t tell if you’re a girl or a twelve year old little boy” He chuckled, clearly trying to bother you.
“Why? ‘cuz you don’t talk to girls or you normally talk to twelve year old little boys?”
Laughter erupted in the lobby after your comment. Two voices, probably his friends, started to make fun of him. You couldn’t hear his answer properly and you honestly didn’t really care either. A couple of groups formed, players scrambling to pick classes, assign loadouts, and talk strategy. Your leaned slightly forward, checked your ammo, mapped out your route in your mind. This was your domain, you knew every map like the palm of your hand.
One irritating voice distracted you.
“Great. We’re with the girl.” He groaned. “I’m not carrying you, just so we’re clear.”
“Bet you can’t even carry a 2kg, lazy-ass.”
“Go make me a sandwich.”
The match started.
You slid silently into cover. The map was wide, with multiple paths, buildings, and open areas, perfect for a calculated, fluid approach. You checked corners, vaulted low walls, and moved in patterns that kept you largely unseen. Your first engagement came quickly when you spotted an opponent flanking, calculated the timing, and executed a clean takedown.
Grenades popped, gunfire echoed from multiple directions. You stayed calm, tracking movement across the map, listening for footsteps, reloads, and voice cues. Every step was fast, you used crouches, jumps, and angles to minimize exposure while maximizing your lethality. By the time the first few opponents had noticed you, you had already moved to a more advantageous position, picking off another enemy before they could respond.
“Well, who’s carrying the group now? Everyone say ‘thank you, Mommy’. Come one, guys. You can say it.” You chanted, killing two more.
One of the other guys muttered. “She’s mentally ill.”
“You’re fucking insane” The guy groaned, flailing.
“It’s easy, ‘thank you, mommy’” You repeated mockingly as another player tried to trap you in a corner.
Letjungcook killed him before he could shot you once more.
The match ended. The first round ended. You had five kills, Letjungcook had two, his friends had one each.
For the second round the groups reshuffled. You continue with that guy again though. You noted the same aggressive tendencies, predictable behaviors, and communication patterns. Men were really so predictable when they talked trash. This time you didn’t care to hide but to make more kills than anyone. You decided to attack everyone on the way. Within moments of the match starting, you had located multiple opponents and killed most of them.
And the second round ended half an hour later too. You had dominated. Your score dwarfed all others. You leaned back briefly, sipping from your cold energy drink, eyes scanning the next lobby as players scrambled to ready themselves again.
“You’re welcome,” you heard him saying.
“You all got one kill each and I got five.” You scoffed. “You should be kneeling, boy.”
You knew he wouldn’t admit he got only two. It would be an opening for you to talk more shit about him.
“And you should be in the kitchen.” He clapped back. “Let’s go another round. Can someone put the fatty in another team?”
“Damn, why are you talking about your boy like that?” You leaned back in your chair.
You could hear a couple of giggles in the back and another conversation going too.
“I like her.”
“Guk, she’s killing you.”
Guk.
“Oh, so your name is Guk?” You snorted, like it was funny. “What a sweet name for a good boy.”
You heard another big and scandalous laugh. “He is a good boy.”
“Good boy,” the other guys started chanting.
The lobby split into different group. You were now against Guk.
“Oh, we have the bitch in our team,” someone complained.
“Girl I have twelve more kills than you. Keep that mouth shout.” There was two seconds of silence you took in your favour. “Yeah, like that. Be a good boy and shut up.”
“We’re gonna lose because of this bitch. She should be in the kitchen,” other guy said.
“Kitchen jokes, wow. And I thought men supposed to be funny.” You fake yawned.
“Go make me a sandwich, fatty.”
“Why? Can’t reach the counter, shorty?”
Laughter explode as the match started.
“He can’t!,” his friends laughed at him.
You decided to shut up and focus on the game since the team you were, at least most of them, barely had any kills the round before.
You were not going to lose.
“Okay, okay. Let’s lock in.”
A firefight erupted in the central building. You entered fast, low to the ground, taking positions behind cover, waiting for an opening. You timed your shots perfectly, taking advantage of the chaos as your opponents argued, flailed, or misstepped. Each kill was really fast and easy, silent to those outside your headset but devastating in scoreboard results.
“Are you seriously all dying?”
Oh, they were so bad.
“Miss me, baby?”
Guk— or whatever his actual name was — made his presence known quickly. You jumped to the other side of the building, trying to make the blood of your screen dissipate by healing. He had been quick to caught you out of guard while you were killing his team mate.
“Is this my good boy Guk?” You muttered, loading your gun while trying to find him now. “Of course I missed you. I think you’re the only one left from your little boys team.”
“Tae?” You heard him call, you knew now that the other guy who was laughing at him early was in fact his friend.
“I’m dying. Come here fast, dude.”
“Aw, it’s okay.” You looked out the window in the tower, trying to localize them. “I’ll give you time to go and heal your friend. I know you need backup, baby.”
“Shut up, tubby.” Tae tried to defend his friend.
“Why? Are you mad I’m disrespecting your boyfriend?”
There was some seconds of silence. You knew that made them a little mad. You tried not to laugh.
His teammates tried to coordinate, but you were already getting bored. You barely needed to glance at the mini-map, instinct and experience guided you to know exactly what they were thinking on doing. And also because they were talking their strategies, really loud.
The match ended two minutes later.
Victory.
You had killed them all— the ones outside your group of course.
You exhaled slowly, smiling faintly and a little bored of how easy that was. The other players had disconnected or were mumbling their frustrations in the background with insults ands loud noises. You didn’t need to speak to feel the satisfaction.
Guk barked again. “That was a charity round!”
“The only charity here is me still talking to you,” You said, as you started looking at the scores, your kills racking up, their cries of frustration and bad insults echoing in your headset.
“Fuck you. Let’s go again.”
“Oh, hell nah. This isn’t real competition. Even an armless guy plays better than you and your team.” You heard him cracked his neck.
“Let’s go again. Are you afraid now?” He tried again, trying to annoy you into playing another round.
You snorted, loud enough to make him angrier. “Ever since you opened your mouth, you haven’t won a round if it wasn’t with me.”
“You know—”
“I’m leaving now. Go play with your twelve years old little boys.” You cut him off. “Now I know why you liked them so much. I bet they rank better than you anyway.”
“You fucking—”
“Bye, baby boy. Be good for mommy.”
Before he could answer you logged off and queued in another game.
You laugh slightly. It was always funny the banter with angry man. They were always so sensitive.
Your friends weren’t answering, the world outside didn’t exist. All that existed was you winning those games back to back. You moved your screen, adjusted your headset, and prepared to enter into another match with other people. The thrill about playing video games had become in finding someone who could outplay you now. Which was almost rare.
You leaned back slightly, a little bored, fingers resting lightly on your controller. Another round was about to begin.
————————
You had barely managed to get your laptop into your bag before the next class started. You dragged yourself into the lecture hall, hair slightly mussed, hoodie hanging loosely over your frame. You felt so exhausted it was almost taking all your strength to be awake.
You had meant to play for just a few rounds, but as the sun had crept through the blinds, you realized you had lost track of time entirely. Now you were paying for it with heavy eyelids, dragging feet, and a mind that barely wanted to exist outside the warmth of your bed— or, more accurately, the remnants of your mattress from the previous night that you hadn’t touched.
The lecture hall was rows of seats rising like stairs, the polished wood of the desks cold under your palms, there was a lot of students taking places in the front rows and most of them had coffee cups. You slid into a seat in the back row, far enough from the front that the professor would assume you were paying attention since he clearly wouldn’t be able to see you from so far.
The board read “Advanced Technical Animation” in neat, almost smug lettering. You had never been terrible at school, but you didn’t particularly care for this class. Two semesters left before you could practically coast to your degree, and this was a required class you had chosen almost arbitrarily because of a friend’s recommendation and the fact that the professor had a decent rating online.
The professor’s voice, monotone and boring, started filling the room. He spoke about corrective blend shapes and pose-space deformation and more stuff you were losing track of. Your eyes began to droop. You rested your chin lightly against your hand, letting your head sag forward just a little, pretending to take notes, though the pen barely touched the paper.
Sleep came quickly, not heavy but enough to blur whatever was happening around. You drifted in and out, absorbing fragments of words: “advanced character rigs,” “facial rigging,” “deformation techniques,” “blah blah blah…” Your mind remained mostly elsewhere, mostly regretting staying too late playing some stupid game.
You could feel yourself smiling faintly even as your eyelids fluttered. You couldn’t wait to get some sleep.
“Group sixteen,” the professor’s voice cut through your nice nap when you heard your name be called. “That will be Y/n… and Jeon Jungkook.”
Your head snapped up so fast you almost knocked your things over. Your mind scrambled. Who the fuck was Jeon Jungkook? The name resonated faintly somewhere in the back of your memory.
You scanned the room, pretending to be looking for the right slide or some imaginary note, but your eyes locked on a guy sitting somewhere closer to the center, leaning casually against his desk. He hadn’t moved yet, hadn’t reacted, but the recognition hit you like a sharp gust of wind.
Your heart skipped a beat
Oh, no. Ohhh no. No, no, no…
You froze, a little too stiff, remembering the end of sophomore year, late one Friday night. A hookup you had never really followed up on. The kind of one-off that was messy, fun, and slightly regrettable. You had never talked after that, not that you remembered anyway.
And now here he was, almost two years later, the same classroom, the same professor, and apparently now your partner for a project your didn’t want to think about just yet.
Jeon Jungkook
He finally looked up, scanning the room until your eyes met. You felt a shiver, mostly from surprise, mostly from nerves, but mostly from sheer disbelief. Did he remember? Would he even care? You had no idea. The last you remembered, you had left his room the next morning before he woke up, apologizing quietly in your head as your slipped out.
You never talked to him again.
The professor continued, oblivious. “You have ten minutes to discuss schedules, roles, and plan your initial meeting. Please keep in mind this is a big note for the class.”
You exhaled softly, pretending to stretch, then turned toward Jungkook. He was standing now, moving toward you with that familiar, easy gait you remembered, carrying the kind of self-assurance that only came with good grades, a strong confidence, and probably too many compliments over the years. You mentally prepared yourself as he walked to you.
“Uh… hey,” he said lightly, a little awkward, a little like he wasn’t sure how to start.
“Hey,” you replied very calm and smooth. Internally, you were repeating to yourself to not make it obvious you remember him.
“I guess we’re partners for the project,” he said, glancing down at the handout the professor had left on each desk.
“Looks like it,” you said, scanning the paper. “Animation… yay, fun stuffs.”
He nodded, frowning slightly to your confusing words. “Yeah. So… uh… when are you free to meet? I can do afternoons.”
You tilted your head slightly, pretending to consider it. “Afternoons are okay. I have some classes before six, though, so maybe right after. Anywhere you want to meet?”
“Library? Or maybe the cafe?”
“Library works,” you said immediately. You had been spending enough time with caffeine lately to know it would probably be bad to be so close to a coffee machine.
You two settled a time, quickly coordinating your schedules, discussing tentative roles for the project. You felt your nerves settle slightly as you realized he wasn’t making any move to comment on your shared past.
That was good. That was very good.
Class ended sooner than expected, maybe because the professor’s lecture had been boring enough to make you almost happy to leave. You gathered your things, slid on your hoodie again, and headed toward the door.
As you walked past, you heard a voice behind you, closer to Jungkook. A guy you didn’t recognize was showing him something on his phone.
“I found her, man!,” the guy said.
You don’t care enough to eavesdrop so you simply walked away down the hall, past students who were chatting idly and toward the cafe machine tucked into the corner.
A third free cheap coffee wouldn’t kill you anyway.
You grabbed a cup, steaming and bitter, and made your way toward your next class, keeping your thoughts focused on your next assignments.
The hallways smelled faintly of disinfectant and leftover cafeteria food. You took a sip of your coffee as you reached your next classroom. It didn’t start until next hour so it was practically empty. Perfect, that way you could have time for you. You dropped your bag in a seat, leaned back, and stretched out, ready to sneak in a nap while waiting for the professor and students to arrive.
Your phone buzzed. One quick vibration that immediately made you know from what app was it. You frowned slightly, sitting up just enough to see the screen.
letjungcook sent you a friend request.
You stared at the screen, your mind flickering back to the previous lobbies you had entered the night before, trying to find a moment you gave someone your username— which, honesty, was a little dumb of you to have the same username in discord as you did in steam— but you never shared it with anyone who you didn’t like or thought was bad so…
Who the fuck was this guy?
so yeah… new fic!! yayyy. i had this for more than 8 months in my drafts and lowkey i thought it was funny enough to edit and post it so lmk what u think so far >_< this was heavily inspired by those tiktok videos of gamer girls winning match with obnoxious men
btw guys if this is not ur thing u can tell me to remove you from my perm taglist lol i won’t be offended (yes i will)
