SOMETHING BETTER THAN FIRST
ᝰ.ᐟ chapter 1: the election.
summary: at seoul central university, jeongguk and y/n are legendary for their brutal academic rivalry. two years of endless bickering, sharp comebacks, and unspoken tension. but when y/n suddenly goes quiet, the game completely changes. what starts as irritation turns into something deeper, messier, and far more dangerous than losing first place.
genre: kind of slow burn romance · college au · enemies to lovers · heavy emotional angst · hurt comfort · fluff
chapter warnings: academic pressure, rivals-to-lovers tension, frequent bickering/arguments, sarcasm and verbal jabs, competitive dynamics, family financial struggles, scholarship pressure, parental stress, emotional suppression, brief mentions of mental health resources, work-school balance, and mild language/profanity.
#1. #2. #3. #4. #5. #6. #7. #8. #9. #10.
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. i do not own jeon jungkook, bts, or any real-life individuals mentioned in this story. all characters, events, relationships, personalities, and situations portrayed are fictional and do not reflect reality or the real people they are inspired by. any resemblance to actual events beyond the use of public figures is purely fictional.
the lecture hall smelled like old wood, chalk dust, and the faint bitterness of too-strong instant coffee. y/n sat three rows from the front, back straight, notebook open, pen flying across the page as she refined her speech points one last time. her stomach twisted with nerves, but her hands stayed steady. this moment mattered. student president wasn’t just a title. it was leverage. resources. a way to actually help students like her.
daeun, her closest friend on campus, leaned over from the next seat, sliding an iced americano across the desk like a peace offering. “you really think you can beat him?”
“i don’t need to beat anyone,” y/n murmured, voice low and focused. “i just need to be better.”
two years at seoul central university had drilled one truth into her: nothing came easy when you carried a full scholarship, a struggling family restaurant back in busan, and the constant weight of proving you belonged. so she prepared harder than everyone else. stayed later in the library. practiced until the words felt like breathing.
the election was supposed to be hers. only two serious candidates—until three days ago.
of course it was jeongguk.
he strolled into the hall ten minutes before speeches began, black hair slightly tousled, white button-up rolled at the sleeves, that easy confidence radiating off him. he dropped into a seat near the back beside taehyung, laughing at something his best friend said like he wasn’t about to upend her entire plan.
y/n forced her gaze back to her notes. she had known jeongguk since freshman year. not friends. never friends. but impossible to avoid. they had circled each other constantly—always first or second on every leaderboard, always trading sharp remarks in group projects, always that spark of something unnamable beneath the rivalry.
today that spark felt like fire.
when her turn came, y/n walked to the podium with steady steps. she spoke clearly and passionately about real issues: better support systems for scholarship students, fairer access to campus jobs, mental health resources that actually worked for people carrying heavy loads. heads nodded. some students clapped hard. she stepped down feeling proud, heart still racing.
he didn’t use notes. he spoke like he was chatting with old friends—charming, warm, funny. he promised stronger alumni networks, better campus events, and “making seoul central feel like home for every kind of student.” one well-timed joke had the entire hall laughing. he mentioned his experience organizing charity runs and leading successful group projects with concrete results.
y/n watched from the side, arms crossed tight. he was good. annoyingly, effortlessly good.
the votes came in that evening.
jeongguk won by a solid margin.
she became vice president.
the next afternoon, y/n stood alone in the student council room, staring at the large wooden desk with the fresh nameplate. president jeon jeongguk. the late afternoon light slanted through tall windows, casting long shadows. outside, the campus buzzed with new-semester energy.
“not bad for second place,” jeongguk said, voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt as he stepped inside.
y/n turned slowly. he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing that half-smirk she both hated and couldn’t stop noticing.
“congratulations, mr. president,” she replied, tone flat. “hope the charm offensive keeps working when real problems show up.”
jeongguk pushed off the frame and walked in, dropping his bag on the long table with a thud. “real problems? like the broken coffee machine in the library? already handled. maintenance is coming tomorrow.”
“of course you handled it.” she let out a short, humorless laugh. “must be nice having connections for everything.”
his eyes narrowed, the smirk fading just a fraction. “and it must be nice acting like you’re the only one here who actually cares about anything. your platform was solid, y/n. but this isn’t about who cares more. it’s about who can actually get shit done.”
they stared at each other across the table. the air felt thick, charged, like the moment right before thunder cracked. something always hummed between them during these moments—deeper than rivalry, sharper than annoyance.
“we’re supposed to work together now,” he added, voice lower. “ms. vice president.”
y/n grabbed her bag. “then stay out of my way and i’ll stay out of yours, dickhead.”
she brushed past him, their shoulders nearly touching. he smelled like clean laundry and soft faint cologne. she hated that she noticed it every single time.
the little café across from the main library sat tucked in a shaded corner, sheltered by an old, towering oak tree whose branches stretched wide and protective. y/n had watched that tree change through every season since her freshman year. bright green buds in spring, full lush canopy in summer, fiery gold and red in fall, bare and stark against winter skies. it had become her quiet constant. a symbol of time passing, of things shifting whether she was ready or not. no matter how chaotic campus life got, the tree kept its rhythm. she found strange comfort in that.
today, mid-october leaves were turning again, drifting lazily down as she wiped the counter during her afternoon shift. the shaded spot kept the café cool and peaceful even when the rest of campus felt like pressure cooker hell.
“another long one?” the owner asked kindly.
“midterms,” y/n answered with a small smile. she didn’t mention the late-night call from her mom yesterday. mrs. han had tried to sound upbeat, but y/n heard the exhaustion. the restaurant was struggling worse. fewer customers, rising costs, the eviction notice looming like a shadow. mr. han was working longer hours. her five-year-old brother kept asking when noona was coming home to play.
she sent most of her scholarship money home every month. this job helped bridge the gap, but it was never enough. still, she smiled on video calls. told them she was thriving. top of her class. vice president. she had it under control.
pride was heavy armor, but it was hers.
the bell above the door chimed. y/n looked up with her practiced customer smile—and felt it slip for half a second.
jeongguk walked in, taehyung right behind him, laughing about something.
jeongguk’s eyes locked on hers instantly. that familiar spark ignited. two years of this dance. two years of competing for every rank, arguing in every shared class, trading barbs that sometimes cut too deep before they both pretended it was nothing.
“if it isn’t my favorite vice prez,” jeongguk drawled, leaning casually on the counter. “working hard or hardly working?”
y/n reached for a cup. “what do you want, jeon?”
“americano. hot. and whatever taehyungie hyung is having.” he tilted his head, studying her face a beat too long. “you look tired. pulling all-nighters again trying to edge me out on the econ midterm?”
taehyung snorted. “be nice, JK. she might actually spit in it this time.”
“i would never,” y/n said sweetly, punching in the order. “i prefer my revenge cold. like watching you choke on second place. again.”
jeongguk grinned, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “keep dreaming, y/n. we both know i’ve got that number one spot warmed up for you.”
“warmed up? that’s cute. almost like you’re preparing to hand it over.”
their banter flowed easy, unhinged, the way it always did. sometimes it was light and playful. sometimes it tipped into something sharper, almost hurtful, like they knew exactly where to press to get a reaction. yet they kept coming back to it. like the bickering was the only safe language they had for whatever this thing between them was.
while they waited, jeongguk kept leaning on the counter. “serious question. you coming to the council meeting tomorrow? we’ve got that funding proposal for the new study lounge.”
“obviously i’m coming,” y/n replied. “someone has to stop you from funneling all the money to your photography club buddies.”
“it’s called supporting the arts, sweets. maybe if you spent less time buried in textbooks you’d understand culture.”
y/n frowned the moment the word left his mouth. sweets. the infuriating nickname sounded far too familiar, and judging by the smug curve of his lips, he knew exactly what it did to her.
“and maybe if you spent less time charming your way through everything, you’d actually do the work instead of delegating.”
taehyung sighed loudly. “God, you two are exhausting. just kiss already and end the suffering.”
both y/n and jeongguk whipped their heads toward him at the same time.
“shut up, dude,” jeongguk said.
“mind your business!” y/n added at the same second.
the coincidence made taehyung burst out laughing. even y/n felt the corner of her mouth twitch. jeongguk noticed, his grin widening.
their drinks came up. as jeongguk took his cup, their fingers brushed. neither pulled away immediately. the contact lingered half a second longer than necessary. that unspoken thing passed between them again—something heavier than rivalry, something neither ever named out loud.
“see you tomorrow, y/n,” he said, voice dropping a little.
he left with taehyung, but glanced back once through the window. y/n turned to the big tree outside. leaves fluttered down slowly. seasons changing again. she wondered how much longer she could keep pretending everything was fine.
the following morning in advanced economics, the lecture hall buzzed with pre-midterm energy. professor kang had barely started reviewing when jeongguk’s hand shot up with a question that was clearly aimed at poking holes in y/n’s last group presentation.
y/n shot back without hesitation, citing data from a different study. the class watched like it was entertainment. this had become routine. their debates often derailed lectures in the best and worst ways.
“that source is outdated,” jeongguk argued, turning in his seat to face her a few rows back. “current market trends show—”
“current trends according to who? your dad’s company reports?” y/n countered sharply. “some of us actually read independent research.”
a few students ooh-ed. jeongguk’s eyes flashed with challenge, but there was also that glint of respect. “low blow, han. at least my sources don’t come from some random blog you probably stayed up until 4am finding.”
“better than relying on nepotism.”
professor kang sighed. “as entertaining as this is, can we save the rivalry for after class?”
they both muttered apologies, but the second the lecture ended, jeongguk was waiting near her desk.
“nepotism? really?” he said, voice low enough for only her to hear, but the grin was back. “you’re getting meaner, y/n.”
“you’re getting cockier,” she replied, packing her bag. “there’s a difference.”
he walked with her out of the hall, their steps falling into sync like muscle memory. “admit it. you’d be bored without me keeping you on your toes.”
“i’d be at peace. top of the class. no headaches.”
“liar. you love the chase as much as i do.”
she hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong. their bond had grown strangely deep over two years. silly, unhinged fights in public. late-night arguments over council proposals that sometimes turned personal and cut deeper than either wanted. moments where one of them would quietly slip the other notes or resources during tough weeks, then pretend it never happened. it was messy. sometimes genuinely hurtful. but it was theirs.
later that afternoon in the library, they ended up at adjacent tables. again.
“you’re breathing too loud,” y/n muttered without looking up from her textbook.
“you’re highlighting too aggressively,” jeongguk shot back, tapping his pen. “that poor page didn’t do anything to you.”
“says the guy who dog-ears pages like a savage.”
they kept going like that for nearly an hour—quiet jabs mixed with actual study tips passed back and forth. at one point jeongguk slid a perfectly summarized article toward her without comment. she slid him a corrected calculation on his practice problem set. neither thanked the other. it was just how they worked.
as the sun began to set, golden light filtering through the big tree outside the café window across the way, y/n caught jeongguk watching her instead of his notes.
he shrugged. “you’ve been quiet lately. everything okay?”
the question landed heavier than she expected. for a moment, the armor slipped. the restaurant. the eviction notice. her little brother’s voice asking for her on the phone. the scholarship warning email sitting unread in her inbox.
“i’m fine,” she said quickly, pride snapping back into place. “just busy. same as you, mr. future ceo.”
jeongguk’s expression flickered. he knew there was more. he always seemed to know. but he didn’t push. not today.
“alright. but if you need anything—”
“i don’t,” she cut in, sharper than intended. “i’ve got it.”
he nodded, but the look he gave her lingered long after he left the library.
y/n stayed behind, staring at the oak tree through the window. leaves continued to fall. change was coming. she could feel it pressing in from every side.
pride had carried her this far. it had to be enough.
author’s note: can you guess my favorite season? 😆 anyway, chapter 1 is finally out! the story’s actually finished already. i’m just releasing a chapter every day (or whenever i feel like people are interested in reading it). i’m the type of person who likes to write and prepare everything first before uploading. i’m honestly a lil nervous because this is my first fic, and everything about this is new to me.
just a little disclaimer: i’m not a professional writer, and my writing definitely isn’t perfect. this is purely for fun—a little side quest i decided to take.
i hope you enjoy reading it, and i hope someone does read it ☺︎ if you do, please leave a comment and a heart so i know i’m not just posting into the void hehe.
remember, it costs you nothing to be kind.
