──✶ inspired by @matchastwb and her drabble WHEN THE PARTY IS OVER
──✶ party boy!jackson wang x mid-life crisis ── after too many parties and watching everyone falling in love but him, jackson wang is officially in his mid-life crisis era.
──✶ word count: 1.2k
──✶ genre/warning: crackfic, light angst if you squint, celebrity au, therapy jokes, mid-life crisis, self-deprecating humour, delusional jackson wang agenda, mentions of your favs stealing everyone’s attention, dramatic behaviour
──✶ a/n: this is literally for the shits and giggles, if y'all ask for a taglist i will force @matchastwb to make this into a series with me (lowkey already is). enjoy! much love <3333
Jackson Wang is in therapy again.
Third week in a row. Same office, same chair, same tragically beige carpet that has seen more emotional breakdowns than his Instagram DMs.
Not because of the partying, or the sleep schedule, or the existential dread that hits at 3am and whispers, “hey king, what if this is all meaningless?”.
But because every man he meets is in a relationship except him.
His therapist doesn’t even look up anymore. She just clicks her pen, like she’s starting a timer on how long it’ll take him to get dramatic.
“What happened this time, Jackson?” she asks, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook.
“Everyone is in love except me,” Jackson declares, collapsing into the couch like a Greek tragedy in designer sweatpants.
He sprawls out so aggressively the cushion wheezes. One arm draped over his eyes, he looks like the world’s most dramatic K-drama second lead who never gets the girl but always gets the soundtrack.
“I tried getting a girl’s number last night,” he groans.
The therapist underlines something. “And?”
He peeks at her from between his fingers. “And she asked if I could introduce her to Jungkook.”
Silence. The kind of silence that deserves its own Oscar.
His therapist hums sympathetically, which is therapist code for “again?”
Jackson isn’t done suffering.
“The week before that?” He sits up just to gesture more dramatically. “A girl asked for Taehyung.”
He throws his hands up, incredulous. “She didn’t even pretend to be subtle. I was mid–flirting. I had a whole compliment lined up about her earrings. And she just—” He imitates her voice in a high-pitched tone. “‘Omg, you know Kim Taehyung, right? Can you introduce us?’” He clutches his chest. “I didn’t even get to the part where I say I like her style. Do you know how hard it is for me to do soft boy?”
“And last month?” the therapist asks, her pen hovering. She’s learned with Jackson that it’s best to let the monologue run.
Jackson’s shoulders slump. He covers his face with both hands like the memory physically hurts. “Yeonjun,” he whispers through his fingers.
The therapist leans in slightly. “I’m sorry?”
He drops his hands and looks at her, eyes wide and traumatized. “Yeonjun,” he repeats, louder. “From 4th gen.”
There’s a pause where even the clock on the wall seems to hesitate.
The therapist finally looks up properly. This, apparently, has crossed some invisible line.
“That… must hurt,” she says, and for once, it sounds less clinical and more like, girl, I’d be crying too.
Jackson’s voice cracks. “Do you know what it feels like to be the ‘do you know so-and-so’ guy? I’m like a walking LinkedIn connection for people’s crushes.” He sits forward, eyebrows knitting together. “Am I old?”
“You’re twenty,” she replies, already knowing what’s coming next.
“THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING,” Jackson cries, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m surrounded by men who look like Greek gods,” he continues, counting on his fingers. “Jimin winks at people for fun. He doesn’t even mean it half the time. His resting state is flirt.” He holds up another finger. “Wonho exists. That’s a hate crime against the rest of us.” Another finger. “Eunwoo breathes near a girl and suddenly she’s like, ‘Wow, fate is real.’” Jackson gestures to himself. “And I’m out here getting friend-zoned into being a party promoter for other men’s relationships. I’m basically Eventbrite with abs.”
The therapist presses her lips together, clearly fighting a smile. “You do host a lot of parties,” she notes.
“That’s branding,” Jackson says defensively. “It’s community building. It’s networking. It’s—”
“It’s you inviting women to environments where all your stupidly attractive friends are also present,” she finishes gently.
He narrows his eyes at her, betrayal in his gaze. “Are you… victim blaming me right now?”
“I’m just observing a pattern,” she replies. “Maybe,” she says slowly, “stop inviting people to parties.”
Jackson blinks.
Stares.
Tilts his head like a confused golden retriever who just heard the word no for the first time.
“Stop… partying?” he echoes, as if she’s suggested he stop breathing.
“Or,” she clarifies, folding her hands over her notebook, “stop using parties as a personality.”
Jackson gasps like he’s been stabbed. “That’s literally my brand, doctor.” He looks personally attacked. “What am I supposed to do? Read?”
“Yes,” she says immediately.
He blinks again, horrified. “Like… books?”
She nods.
He mutters, “I knew this was going to be a hard session,” under his breath.
She gives him a very professional look. “I’m not answering that.”
“I’ll put that down as a yes,” he says confidently. “Continue.”
She takes a breath. “You are more than the fun guy who knows everyone. But right now, that’s the role you keep throwing yourself into. If you only ever show up as the party guy, people will treat you like a doorway. Not a destination.”
He goes quiet at that.
A doorway.
To Jungkook.
To Taehyung.
To Yeonjun–from–4th–gen.
He slumps back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. “So what, I need a new personality?”
“Not new,” she says. “Just… expanded. You don’t have to stop hosting parties, but maybe stop measuring your worth in how many people show up, or who asks for whose number.”
He kicks his foot a little, sulking. “That’s like… half my hobbies gone.”
“Develop new ones,” she suggests. “Ones that are just about you.”
He squints. “Like… cooking?”
“That could work.”
Jackson pictures himself in an apron, holding a pan, accidentally setting something on fire while a girl falls in love with him over ramen. He decides he likes that visual.
“Or,” she continues, “you could try going places alone. No entourage. No back-up dancers of doom. Just you.”
“Alone?” he repeats, like she’s suggested exile.
“Yes.”
“Do I at least get a good outfit?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “But no parties.”
He groans, dragging his hands down his face dramatically. “This is oppression.”
The therapist smiles. “It’s character development.”
He stares at the ceiling again, processing. Somewhere in the distance, a future version of him flips his hair in slow motion and thanks her. Present him, however, is still grieving.
After a few moments of theatrical suffering, Jackson sits up, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looks oddly serious for once.
“So what do I do,” he asks, “when the next girl asks me if I know Jungkook?”
The therapist considers this. “You tell her yes.”
He looks offended. “Doctor.”
She holds up a hand. “You tell her yes… and then you say, ‘But you’re talking to me right now.’ And you keep talking. You give yourself a chance in your own conversation.”
He blinks. “That’s… kind of smooth.”
“You’re welcome,” she says.
He leans back again, thinking. For the first time, he imagines a scenario where the girl doesn’t pivot away from him like he’s the customer service line to someone else’s heart.
Jackson leaves the session with one new affirmation, typed aggressively into his Notes app with a little sparkle emoji next to it:
I am more than a gateway to Jungkook.
His new goal? Make a girl fall in love with him before the next semester. Not with the parties. Not with the guest list. Not with the ‘oh yeah, I know him.’
With him.
With the guy who accidentally cries at animated movies, makes terrible late-night sandwiches, cares too much, overthinks everything, and still shows up anyway.
Godspeed, Jackson Wang.
He schedules another therapy appointment on his way out. He knows he’ll need it.
Genre: fluff…maybe a little angst, them being big babies, possessive behavior
Warning(s): none, they are a warning in and of themselves
제이비┃JAY B
Jaebum gets jealous more often than he'd like to admit. He trusts you and he knows how much you love him, but he gets very angry very quickly. Seeing someone capture your attention, someone trying to sway you, gets him hot in the face. He settles for leveling the person with a very bored deadpan as he approaches, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you away. Doesn't bother to address them, simply pulls you into him and carries on with his day. After the anger subsides, the shame takes over. He's stuck staring at the ground, mouth curled in a pout before you cup his face and litter him in affection. He doesn't like feeling insecure, to feel like he's doubting you but he can't help it. It's all made better with some warm words and loving kisses.
마크┃MARK TUAN
Mark is not a jealous man. He's confident in himself and your relationship, but he has his moments. He tries his best to keep his jealousy hidden as it's not an emotion he wishes to revel in. If someone approaches you and you seem to enjoy the conversation, he simply hovers behind you and stares. If you seem uncomfortable, however, he's approaching you both. He rests a hand at the small of your back, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple and calmly ending the conversation. You can always tell when he's upset. His voice gets tighter, sharper, and he's more affectionate following the interaction.
잭슨왕┃JACKSON WANG
He is incredibly protective. He hates the idea of people seeing you. Anything longer than a glance leaves an unsavory taste in his mouth. So when someone actually tries to talk to you it has him on edge. He's moving closer to your side, unabashedly curling around your waist and nuzzling at your neck, hovering over your shoulder. If you don't seem bothered by them, he stops at attempting to mentally burn a whole through their skull. If they actually try and touch you though or start making you uncomfortable, he's not afraid to hurt them—feels it's more than justified—no matter where you are. He gets very needy once you’re back home, draping himself over your lap and pushing his face into your hands. Makes you tell him how much you love him and refuses to move for an hour.
진영┃PARK JINYOUNG
He has a nonexistent tolerance for jealousy, it's always very clear when he gets jealous and quickly boils to the surface. He's not loud, never wants to scare you, and tries not to make a scene. He locks eyes with them over your shoulder, dark and daunting, and makes his intentions very clear. Fuck off. If they're persistent, he wraps a heavy arm around your waist and tugs your back against his chest or hovers over your shoulder and glares. Once they're gone, he gets softer. Subtly touches you: slipping his hand into yours and sitting close enough that your thighs brush.
영재┃CHOI YOUNGJAE
Sweet Youngjae doesn’t really get jealous. He trusts you and almost everyone around him, he understands that the feeling is irrational, you love him and he loves you. If anyone was ever successful in getting him to that point, he would hate the feeling and tries his best to work through it without you noticing. If the person is making you obviously uncomfortable, however, he tries to end the interaction as quickly as possible, firmly introduces himself as your boyfriend. He’ll hide his anger behind a sunny expression, pulling you away from them. His easy smile and soft affection is back the moment you're both alone.
뱀뱀┃BAMBAM
He gets jealous pretty easily, no matter if it's a stranger off the street or a friend you've known for years. Like, he would be unable to hide the fact. He’s very transparent, may get confrontational, and you can just always tell whenever he gets jealous. His smile gets a little darker, jaw clenched tightly and his eyes flashing. He always waits until he feels like a line has been crossed. If they reach a hand to touch you or say something that has you recoiling, he slides his hands over your hips, nosing at your cheek, mumbling a quiet, "you okay, baby?" And takes a little too much pride in the look on the person's face when they shuffle away.
유겸┃KIM YUGYEOM
Gyeomie doesn't usually get jealous easily, mostly because he's too enamored with staring at you to notice anyone else looking, so they have to be pretty shameless for him to notice. He hates seeing you uncomfortable, even if it's only a little, so the moment he does notice, he's removing you from the situation. He has no shame about it either, doesn't even try to hide his intentions when he walks over. He will pick you up and carry you off without so much as a word. He gets really clingy afterwards, whining about you not paying enough attention to him and pressing himself against you, curling over your shoulders.
"Come on Jacks," you pleaded, whispering. The phone dial rang out a few more beats, and you hastily walked into the drugstore and out of the shadowed streets. The shop floor was busier than you had expected, what with the time being too late to be comfortable—some people may have well needed a last minute, urgent skincare fix.
You nodded at the single cashier manning the counter, meeting his eye for a second before he continued scanning for the customer in front of him. With another look through the shop's glass windows out to the street outside, you weaved yourself through the aisles of shower gels and blister plasters.
"Hey, what's up? It’s late, is everything ok" Your friend's voice cuts through the ringing, and you quietly breathe out in relief. You hear rustling in the background, the receiver assumably rummaging around his bedroom.
"Jackson, I just, just stepped out to grab some food from the CVS and—are you free? Were you slee—" You pick up one of the items on display, a scented candle, hand shaking slightly as you tried to read the packaging. "No no, it’s ok, what happened? Tell me," your friend presses, you feel your strained breaths unravel at his comforting tone.
You take a sigh, trying to collect your thoughts, looking around. "Umm, I think I'm being followed," you wrap your other, unoccupied arm around yourself. You don’t hear anything in reply. "There was, is, this man. He was standing outside the CVS when I got there, and then when I was done and left, he started walking behind me." You slowly turn your head towards the glass windows of the store, trying to catch a figure in the periphery of your sight. "Now l'm at this 24/7 beauty shop and I can see him outside, he's just looking at me." “I’m sorry to ask you so late but, could you come meet me? I don’t think I’m too far from where you’re staying,” you ask, starting to feel your chest tighten and stomach turn as the shadowed man faces your direction.
“You’re location’s on, right?” Jackson speaks up, “sorry, stupid question, of course it is - I’m on my way, give me like 4 minutes. Ok?”
You bite your lip, “ok, thank you,” you breathe out. Truthfully, you had forgotten your location share was even on. Jackson’s reminder takes you back to when he insisted you two always have location share on for each other, one of you had asked the other to do so because you were both away in different countries on holiday. It was a nice way to keep tabs on each other, whilst vacationing and just generally during busy day-to-day life. It’s the first time it’s ever come in handy for a situation like this, though.
“Keep me on the line, I’ll talk as I run,” Jackson’s voice cuts through. “Is the shop empty, is there anyone else there with you?”
“Yeah, a couple people browsing and some at the till.”
“Good.”
“Thank you, Jacks, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t pick—“
“I’ll always pick up, anyways, it’s no big deal, literally, bare minimum,” his speech comes out choppily, in staccato. You can hear his feet hitting the ground as he runs, but his breathing never hitches. “Can you hold on the line for just a minute, please? I’ll be back after,” Jackson asks.
“Yeah, of course,” you nod, staring at the paint starting to chip on your nails, and the line goes quiet.
You hadn’t met a long time ago, it had only been a few months since this housewarming party a mutual friend hosted in their fancy new apartment. There, you struck up a conversation after being introduced to each other, and you and Jackson clicked so well. Whilst being from two different worlds, you had a very corporate job whilst he lived a creative’s dream as a famous musician, you loved the same things. To an extent. And the things you didn’t share in common, had somewhat of a commonality too. He wasn’t a fan of a specific genre of film you liked, but he’d happily sit down to watch your favourite movie, without complaint.
After the first meeting went so well, you two quickly set up regular hang outs. You heard he loved a dish and wanted to try out a new recipe, so he came over for dinner. He had an event coming up, therefore he needed your expert eye on what outfit suited him and the event's dress code best. Also, it wasn't too long before your flatmate's cat fell in love with him, and you'd go on cat walks to the park together—in disguise of course.
A few minutes pass of you inspecting the bottles on display, your pretence keeping you occupied as you kept tabs on the man outside. “I’m back,” Jackson’s voice cuts through the call, his tone serious and stern. “I’m walking in now.” The call drops.
The doors to the shop slide open, and you turn to see your friend striding in. He’s adorned in all-black, some loose joggers with a black zip-up, the oversized hood hung over his head. He meets your eye, and rushes over to you.
His hair hangs low, the ends slightly wet from a shower, and he pulls his mask down a little to speak to you. “Are you ok?” Jackson’s eyes search you, his hand comes up to your shoulder. You smile at the way his frown twists in concern, “I am now you’re here, thank you.”
He rolls his eyes, “don’t thank me, I said it’s the bare minimum. Besides, how could I even say no… sorry, I’m busy, ask him to stop following you? As if—” Jackson huffs. “Speaking of, that’s the guy? Following you?” He, subtly, nods pointedly at the figure outside the window. You’re both standing somewhere deeper into the shop, no one can see you from the outside in. And, Jackson made sure to slow his walking down before turning the street corner, he wasn’t about to lose the perpetrator before he could even get him caught.
You nod, “yeah, I, I noticed he had his hand in his pocket, he kept reaching into it a couple times—I don’t know, I’m probably just being paranoid—but I think he had something in there,” your fingers fidget, clasping around your phone. You watch as Jackson’s brows furrow, his hand drops from your shoulder. “We’re staying until the police come,” he says, finally.
“Police? You called them? When?”
“I put you on hold, remember. Anyways,” Jackson takes the bag in your hand from you, filled with snacks from the CVS, “do you want anything from here, it’s on me.” You walk further into the store, looking up and down the aisles together aimlessly as you waited on the police to arrive. If you ignored the shadowed creep outside, this moment felt domestic. Your bag was even slung over his shoulder. Despite your friendship only being relatively new, you felt you had known Jackson for ages. And, there were always twinklings of other things below the surface every time you met each other. Sometimes they were moments of lasting eye contact, other times, goosebumps after lingering touches or brushes of hands. You were still feeling each other out a little, though, taking it slow to build up feelings until they’d become too strong to ignore.
Jackson looks up, noticing something from the corner of his eye, “stay here for a second,” he tells you. “Don’t move.”
You nod, intrigued as you watch him walk away. He strolls out the store, and you see him walk up to some figures in uniform. Two men. Jackson talks to them, points in another direction, and the officers walk up to the shadowed figure, Jackson looking on. The stalker attempts to make a run for it, but unfortunately for him, doesn’t get too far before the officers hold him down and detain him. The scene moves so quickly, too quick for you to process and before you blink, the officers take him away and Jackson walks back into the shop and stops in front of you.
He smiles down at you, “let’s go, I’m walking you home.”
As you walk down the street, you chat away about your day at work, updating him on some recent office gossip about a work-couple. You don’t pay much attention to the way Jackson scans your surroundings: the way he moves closer to you ever so slightly, the way his hands ready to pull you back in case a cyclist nearly runs you over as you cross the road, the way he checks to see how you’re doing, only to get distracted by the way the warm street lights make your face glow.
It’s only when he hears a bunch of rowdy teenagers run past the two of you, that you register the way his arm wraps around your shoulder, bringing you in closer, shielding you. You look up at him, much closer now than before, your brows raised a touch, “oh, thank you.” His arm around you feels heavy, but warm, and you thank him silently for not dropping it afterwards.
Jackson keeps his arm there for the remainder of the walk home, carving its presence. He keeps it there until he walks you to your door, and keeps it there until you ask him if he’d like to come in.
a/n: sorry to anyone whose requests i haven't gotten to. this has been in my drafts for a hot minute, so i figures i'd just post this so i have some new content on my page 😭
⁀➴CONTEÚDO: Fluff but a little sugestivo! O Jinyoung e a pp estão casadinhos!
⁀➴N/A: Amo ele no GOT7, tem um solo dele que eu amo (Dive, essa música é simplesmente perfeita), gosto muito da atuação dele, homem talentoso demais, beijoqueiro demais, viu 🙈. EXTREMAMENTE husband material, e ele pode até tentar se pagar de santo, ele não é!!!!!! Acho que é isso! Beijos, me digam se gostaram, amo vocês. Boa noite, durmam e acordem bem! Amo vocês²! 💋
[Obs: gostou dessa e quer ler mais do que eu escrevo? Bicha, vem dar uma conferida na minha masterlist e seja imensamente feliz!]
— Ah não, tia, relaxa, é meu marido — você incentivou sua tia a continuar falando, enquanto observava Jinyoung deixar o crachá do trabalho e a mochila no sofá.
Você estava em pé, com o telefone no ouvido, apoiada na bancada da cozinha estilo americano, parecendo entediada. Jinyoung percebeu, porque se aproximou de você e deixou um beijinho no seu ombro.
— Tia, só um minutinho.
Você deixou o celular no mudo por alguns instantes. Queria dar um beijinho no seu marido — afinal, não tinham se visto o dia inteiro, e ele chegou mais tarde hoje. Nem jantou contigo.
Jinyoung suspirou.
Você estava linda, com um conjuntinho novo de regatinha e shortinho, o cabelo encaracolado preso num coque desleixado, porém bonito, no seu estilo casual. No rosto, mal havia maquiagem, mas você tinha usado alguns produtinhos que deixavam um viço natural.
Jinyoung sempre fora louco por você, obcecado. Nunca tinha se sentido assim por mulher alguma além de você. E te venerava pelo menos umas cem vezes mais toda vez que te tinha daquele jeitinho, preparada pra dormir — fosse com o conjuntinho sexy de hoje ou com os seus pijamas engraçadinhos. Ele amava. Sempre terminava numa sacanagenzinha debaixo do edredom.
— É aquela sua tia chata?
— Aham.
Jinyoung gemeu manhosinho no seu pescoço, e você o afastou, ficando de costas pra ele — o que foi um erro, porque ele colou o abdômen nas suas costas, e sua frequência cardíaca foi pro beleléu.
— Fala que nosso cachorro tá vomitando.
— A gente não tem cachorro, amor!
— Ela não precisa saber. Fala, vai… quero te beijar sem nenhuma distração.
Você riu, pegando o celular novamente. Sua tia falava sobre mil coisas ao mesmo tempo, e você não dava a mínima — principalmente porque Jinyoung te virou de novo, a boca beijando sua pele em exposição, venerando cada centímetro que conseguia alcançar.
Quando ele ficou de joelhos diante de você, você quase desmaiou.
— Tia, me perdoa, surgiu uma emergência… vou ter que desligar.
Jinyoung sorriu contra o seu umbigo, as mãos no seu quadril. Você bateu o celular contra o material do balcão, olhando-o como se precisasse discipliná-lo — e realmente precisava.
Jinyoung perdera qualquer filtro desde que se casou com você. Antigamente, quando namoravam, costumava ser tímido contigo. Depois que colocou uma aliança no seu dedo, estava quase fazendo o tipo exibicionista.
— Pode parar com essas mãos.
Você o puxou de volta pra si, unindo os lábios nos dele enquanto pressionava as bochechas de Jinyoung, fazendo-o exibir um biquinho adorável. Você queria que o futuro filho de vocês tivesse aquele mesmo biquinho fofo.
— Tô com saudades.
— Eu também. Mas antes, vai pro banho.
— Vem comigo? — ele questionou, mesmo já sabendo a resposta; o seu perfume já tinha denunciado que você havia tomado banho.
Você sorriu, concordando de levinho com a cabeça. Jinyoung devolveu seu assentir com outro sorriso e uma afirmação:
— Ótimo… não vou te deixar sair do box tão cedo, amor.
Words: 5,300 exactly (couldn't do THAT again if I tried. lol)
Summary: After months of chickening out of Tinder dates, your roommate offers to help you with your problem.
Warnings: Unprotected Sex, oral (f. receiving), masturbation (m), voyeurism if you squint, creampie, loss of virginity, sweet and slow, Jackson is the perfect gentleman (as always), roommates to lovers.
A/N: I seem to have blacked out again and my hand slipped. I blame @breakmeoff for reigniting my lust for Jackson with their diabolically good fic "Hall Pass" (which I still haven't recovered from, obvi.) Thank you as always to my bestie @ot7sgoodgirl for beta'ing this (after I tortured her and kept the Jackson as {REDACTED} for a whole day lol) Thank you as always to my other bestie @kpop---scenarios for throwing Jackson gifs at me and helping my mushy brain come up with a title for this indulgent little stroll into Delulu-ville.
Enjoy!
You were sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through channels and sipping a glass of wine. You hadn’t even bothered undressing from your failed date. Well, you can’t necessarily say it failed if you didn’t even show up.
You gotten ready; hair, make-up, and little black dress. You’d pulled up the Uber app to order your ride and willed yourself to go downstairs to wait when your phone buzzed in your hand.
Eun-woo: 7:26pm: Hey, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little late. The city has been doing some roadwork in front of my apartment and my car is still trapped. They were supposed to be cleared out an hour ago! I’m calling for a taxi now. Can’t wait to see you!
You glanced at the photo you’d taken from his profile to use as his contact photo and dread filled your stomach. ‘He’s way too pretty. This is a sign. I need to cancel. I can’t do this’ you thought and before you knew it, you’d already typed out a cancellation response. Something about Ubers being busy in your area and you didn’t wanna make him wait any longer than he has. You’d definitely call him next week to reschedule! Such a weak story. If you’d received the same, you’d probably be furious, but you just couldn’t go through with it. Before you could ruminate on it any further, you blocked his contact and headed for the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and a glass.
You don’t know what possessed you to think this would be a good idea.
Just use Tinder, they say.
It’s a one and done, they say.
It’s as easy as ordering food, they say.
Not when you’re almost 30 and have something you desperately want to get rid of and be done with it.
Your virginity.
Honestly, you don’t even know how you’d gone this long. You’d been so laser focused on your education and career that sex was the furthest thing from your mind. When you finally did have the time, the idea of being your first made every single guy you talked to, run for the hills. Eun-woo, on the other hand, didn’t even know. You’d decided to keep the info to yourself and tell him in person, like ripping off a bandaid and hoping he didn’t literally run; until those icy feet of yours kept you from even leaving your apartment.
You needed to get a guys opinion about it, but all you had was your painfully attractive roommate and you’d be damned if you tried to open up to him again. Last week, you’d pulled him aside to talk about it. You’d told him about being too nervous to go out with anyone, but as soon as you’d get close to talking about the why, you’d be reminded of how many gorgeous women you’d seen limp out of his room on the weekends; blissed out smiles plastered to their faces as he kissed them on the cheek and sent them on their way. You froze like a deer in headlights, muttered a ‘nevermind’ and bolted to your room; slamming the door and leaving him standing, baffled, in the hallway.
Luckily, said roommate would be gone tonight, so you wouldn’t have the temptation to spill your guts to him, nor did you have to hear his whining about you chickening out once again. Just as you settled on another cheesy rom-com where the perfect couple gets together in the end, you hear the front door open. You scramble to grab your phone and the bottle to run off to your room, but it’s too late.
“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be out on your date by now?”, Jackson asked, catching you mid-stride down the hall.
“Um, yeah. I decided to cancel. Eun-woo texted me saying he’d be late because of roadwork outside his place, so I just thought….”
“No, don’t tell me your anxiety got the best of you again?!”, Jackson sighed, turning to lock the door before removing his shoes. “Sweetheart, why? He seemed like a great catch! Hell, I’d date him!”
“I just...it’s not…” you give up before you can finish your sentence and continue down the hall towards your room.
“Oh no you don’t! C’mere. I’m not gonna let you spend your night sulking alone in your room. Forget it.” he grabs your arm and pulls you back towards the living room. “C’mon, let’s find a movie to watch or something. You sit and I’ll grab some more wine and snacks, and we can just forget about everything for a while.”
Jackson returned with an armful of junk food and 2 bottles of wine, dumping everything on the coffee table before plopping heavily next to you on the couch.
“So, what are we in the mood for? Rom-com? Drama? Horror? I promise, I won’t end up in your lap this time.” he holds up a hand like he’s swearing an oath.
“I’m gonna be alone forever.” you blurt before leaning away from him and flopping face down onto the cushions.
“Ooooooookay, so we’re talking about it. Got it.” he reaches for the open bottle of wine to refill your glass before pouring some for himself.
“It impothible. Im gon be an ol mai cath ladee.” you whine into the fabric.
“Alright, fuck the glasses too.” he says before nudging you to take the whole bottle as you sit back up.
“I’m just gonna come out with it.” he says as he opens the other bottle and takes a big swig. “You’ve given me a million reasons as to why you keep backing out of these dates, but I know none of them are legit, so let’s hear it. What’s really keeping you holed up in here and not out there, living?”
You shoot him a look that begs him not to actually ask that.
“I’m waiting.” he shoves a handful of cheeseballs into his mouth.
“I…” you begin, but decide a big gulp of wine is needed first and you quickly realize half of the bottle has now been drained. “I just have no experience with this sort of thing. No big deal.”
“Ok, so you’re not a hump n dump type. That’s completely valid. Set that boundary from the get go and if they don’t respect it, then definitely walk away. That’s the bare minimum.”
“No, Jackson. I mean...I feel like I should think that way now? But it’s just...”
“Ok? Why do you feel like you should all of a sudden? Is someone pressuring you because I swear I’ll clothesline the sonofa...”
“Jackson!” you stop him before he can run off on a tangent. You’re gonna have to be honest with him. He has become your best friend over the last couple years yes, but he’s also a stunningly gorgeous man that makes you very nervous. You inwardly cringe at the idea of spilling the truth, but maybe it needs to be done.
“I’m a big girl now, it’s time, but I don’t wanna get in over my head. I don’t know a whole lot about…” you take another big gulp. “I don’t know a lot about sex and intimacy.”
“Ok, so maybe leave the leather whips and handcuffs for the second date?” he says with a smirk.
“No, dammit. I mean I don’t know anything. I have no experience... With guys… At all.” you huff out before bringing the wine bottle back to your lips.
You don’t know what you expect his response to be, but it sure wasn’t what he actually did.
Jackson laughs.
You reach an arm out to smack against his chest, your bottom lip poking out as you try to bite back tears of humiliation.
“I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart. I’m just surprised. Shocked, actually.” he giggles out.
“Why shocked?” your lips ask before your brain can stop them. Oh you really don’t want his answer to that.
He pauses mid sip and pulls the bottle away from his mouth. “Have you ever seen a mirror? You’re smokin’ hot!” his eyes wide.
“I think you’ve had enough already.” you reach out to try to pull the bottle from his grasp, but he swats your hand away and settles the wine back on the coffee table.
“I’m serious. I think I went through 2 bottles of lube trying to rub out my frustrations when I first moved in.”
“Ok, you’re not drunk. You’ve had an aneurysm.” you stand and grab your wine, intending to lock yourself away in your room until hell froze over.
“Sweetheart, wait. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so bold.” all traces of humor drain from his face. “Am I correctly assuming that you’re trying to tell me that you’re a virgin?”
You nod meekly, staring a hole in the floor.
“Ok, and why do you think you’ve avoided this experience.” his inflection on that last word makes your stomach flip a little.
“I don’t know, it just never really came up? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saving myself for marriage or hoping for some Cinderella-hearts-and-flower petals on the bed bullshit moment. I just got busy with life and now that I have the time, guys seem to act like being a virgin is a terminal illness.”
He chokes on the mouthful of wine before sputtering, “I’m fucking sorry, terminal illness??”
“The guy before Eun-woo referred to it as ‘deflowering’ and said he couldn’t handle the pressure.” you reply flatly.
“Ok, that made my dick shrivel up.” Jackson’s face scrunched in disgust. “I mean, I guess I get where they’re coming from? Most girls don’t have the same view as you when it comes to virginity and they do tend to get a little...clingy afterwards, but still, those guys that run are missing out. Experiencing that level of grip and being the first one to make a girl’s eyes roll back and her legs shake…” his eyes close and he leans back into the couch, a lascivious grin spreading across his face.
“Annnnnnd, we’re done.” you turn away from him and curl into yourself on the couch.
“Sweetheart, I mean it. We need to talk about this. We need to get you laid already!” Jackson whines as he pounces on top of you, shaking you back and forth until you giggle. “So, let’s figure this out. Let’s start with the basics. What experience do you have?”
You groan into the arm of the couch, but relent and sit back up. You turn, making eye contact and feel your blood turn to ice. You’re really gonna talk about this with this god of a man.
Jackson must read the fear on your face as he sits back and takes your hand. “Hey, I may have been around the block a few times, but I still get nervous too, y’know.” there’s not an ounce of teasing in his expression or tone. “Have you at least kissed someone?”
Your throat locks up at that and you can only shake your head and quickly look away.
“Would you like to?”
Now it’s his turn to be insulted because the only reaction you’re capable of is laughing hysterically.
“Hey, why is that funny? I’m not diseased or anything!” he pouts, genuinely offended.
“I’m not laughing at you, I’m just shocked” you giggle, turning his words back on him as you wipe tears from your eyes.
“I’m serious, Sweetheart. I want to help you. Do you want to try kissing me?” his tone makes your stomach flip again, but thankfully the wine has lowered your guard enough for you to be blunt.
“I actually do, but I’m afraid of making things weird between us. You’re like, my best friend. I don’t want to jeopardize that.” you answer honestly.
“One kiss won’t change anything.” he promises and leans in toward you. “Besides, I have experience in virgin territory. I’ll teach you well and treat you with respect.” Without giving yourself another second to possibly chicken out, you lean in as well and feel his lips press against yours; soft and warm. You briefly open your eyes and the sight of Jackson this close to you causes a soft moan to escape. Your body taking control as you begin moving your lips against his and softly suck his lower lip into your mouth.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you sure you don’t have any experience? Maybe you should be teaching me.” he says with a light chuckle as he lets you continue to devour his mouth; your hands reaching up to card through his hair as you unconsciously scoot a little closer to him.
Jackson finally pushes you away, gently, so he can look you in the eyes. “You’re a natural at this. If you’re not careful, you could really fuck someone up.”, he smirks, his lips still glistening from your saliva. “How did that feel?” his words are breathless and his eyes are hooded; sending tingles racing throughout your body.
“Can I do that again? Can I keep kissing you?” the timid look on your face and softness of your voice goes straight to his dick and he absentmindedly adjusts himself before responding.
“You absolutely can do that again. I’ll tell you what, take charge for me. You set the pace. Don’t worry about me, just focus on how it feels for you.” he reaches out to pull you closer.
“I...I don’t wanna do something that you don’t want or like.” you worry at your bottom lip and avoid his eyes.
“No way, I want you to be selfish. Use me, sweetheart. I promise you, you can’t do anything that I won’t like.” the lust burning in his eyes would definitely send you running if not for the wine flowing through your veins and the throbbing already started between your legs.
You lean forward and begin kissing him again; goosebumps erupting across your skin in waves. Instinctively, you open your mouth and gently swipe your tongue against the seam of his lips. He readily opens to receive you; a long groan bubbles up from his chest that sounds suspiciously like your name.
Without thinking, he pulls back to look into your eyes once more and asks you; “If you’re ready to take the next step, why don’t you try sitting in my lap?” he waits with baited breath, hoping it doesn’t scare you away. You gasp softly, a little worried that might be too much, but at the same time you want nothing less than to get as close to him as you can, running your hands across every inch of his firm body that you can reach.
“O-okay. I can d-do that.” you take a deep breath, desperate to calm your nerves so you can keep going. It already feels way too good to stop.
As you settle into his lap, the first thing you feel is his erection digging into your thigh insistently. It feels massive and you can’t help but give into a jolt of fear. Surely all dicks aren’t that big, right?
Jackson senses your hesitation. “Can I touch you sweetheart?” he asks, his hands hovering a few inches away from your arms. You nod your consent, but he doesn’t advance. “I need your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes, touch me, Jackson. Please.”
He shivers at your words as his hands make contact with your arms, slowly gliding up and down in a relaxing motion; willing you to feel the calm he’s trying to project. No matter how far you end up taking this, he wants to make sure it’s perfect for you.
You relax a little as his arms encircle you, pulling you close, so you start kissing him again. This time, you open your mouth to allow his tongue to explore this time, pulling a sweet whimper from you. His hips buck up before he has a chance to reel himself in. His bulge connecting with your aching core causes your hips grind down of their own volition and you let out a long sigh of relief at the contact.
Jackson buries his head in the junction of your shoulder and neck. “God, sweetheart. The noises you’re making are so fucking hot.”, his tone is deep; words heavy with desire. Feeling a little boost of confidence, you grind down again, this time experimenting with circling your hips with a little less pressure. His girth barely brushes against the lacy fabric, right on top of your clit, making you whine out his name.
“Oh fuck sweetheart!” Jackson’s voice sounds raspy; destroyed, as he grips your hips like a vice and holds you still. He sounds like he’s already been screaming your name all night and it causes you to freeze solid in place.
“I’m sorry! What did I do? Did I...was I?” he stops your babbling with a chaste kiss to your lips.
“You did everything right, actually. You’ve got me so fuckin’ hard right now I might finish before we even get started.” he pants, his forehead resting against yours. “Can I try kissing your neck?”
You moan in agreement as his lips brush against the artery in your neck, throbbing wildly with your heartbeat, as your hands fly up to tangle themselves back in his hair. “There you go, sweetheart. Just feel” he murmurs against your skin as he continues tasting from your jaw to your collarbone. He briefly nibbles against a spot just to the right of the column of your neck, “Please, take me to my room Jackson. Please.” you’re begging already and don’t even know what for. You feel his hardness throb rhythmically against the soaked gusset of your panties; the nerve endings in your clit burning white hot and desperate for more.
Wordlessly, he stands up, easily taking you with him; your legs wrapping around him tight as you begin kissing him once more. “Patience, sweetheart” he chuckles against your mouth before high-tailing it down the hall towards your room and gently laying you down on top of your comforter.
Your eyes hazy with lust, your dress hiked up to your hips allowing a sliver of your lacy panties to peek out; Jackson palms roughly at his painfully erect cock to remind himself of the moment.
“You’re still in charge sweetheart. Don’t forget that. I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for. If you tell me to turn around and walk out that door now, I will….but I’ll probably clean you out of your entire supply of body oil, just letting you know.” he says with a debilitating smirk that sends fire racing through your veins.
“Jackson, please. I need you.” you beg and it almost levels him where he stands. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d touched himself repeatedly when he’d first moved in. Your beauty was obvious, but your personality, your intelligence, your wit on top of it? He should’ve known he was a goner the moment you said hello.
“Let’s make out a little more, mmkay?” he offers as he leans over you and drops, rolling to the side at the last second. If he settled himself between your legs right now, he’d explode the front of his jeans; zipper and all.
As your lips join once more, he threads his fingers through your hair; getting caught briefly on a tangle that pulls at the back of your skull just right and you moan loudly; his mouth swallowing the sound. You reach out blindly and drag him closer. Fisting your hands into his shirt like you need it to hold you to the Earth, but you also need it gone and out of your way. You grunt in frustration.
“Do you need a break, sweetheart?” his raspy voice sends chills down your spine.
“No, need more….need this…” you can’t even finish, only tug harder at the fabric like it’s offensive to you.
“You want me to get naked?” he practically purrs the question into your ear and you whine out a yes while nodding intensely.
“Your wish is my command.” he stands, yanking the shirt off his head one-handed before reaching down to unzip his jeans and let them pool at his ankles on the floor.
You didn’t know if it was possible, but you felt as though you were about to cum, untouched. Seeing him standing there, his beautiful body on display and his long, thick cock dribbling so much precum, it oozed to the floor in one long, unbroken drop. He gripped his length tightly, stroking slowly and gazing at you with hooded eyes. “See what you do to me, sweetheart?” his eyes rolled back as he swiped his thumb across the head of his cock.
You needed him now, in every single way you could think of.
“Pull those panties to the side, I wanna see what I do to you.” he grunts, still slowly stroking his throbbing erection.
Running on pure arousal fueled autopilot, you reach down and slide the drenched fabric to the side. Your folds glistened in the lamplight, your entrance dripping into an ever widening dark spot on your sheets.
His eyes zeroed in; a strangled moan left his chest as a small spurt of precum left the tip of his cock. He suddenly dropped to his knees and begged. “Please let me taste you, sweetheart. Please?”
“Yes, Jackson.” you answered in a strained whisper and watched him crawl across the floor to sit at the edge of your bed as you ripped your panties off and launched them somewhere to the side.
“Give me your hands sweetheart.” he reaches forward, palm up, waiting for you to place your hand in his. He brought them both to the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair. “I want you to guide me. Pull me where you need me, okay?”
Your legs were already shaking before his lips made contact with your center, but when you felt his tongue slide up from your entrance to your clit, you thought you’d explode right out of your skin; both from the feeling and the sounds of him surrendering to you completely.
The tip of his tongue explored your folds, changing up the pressure and speed until he felt you tug at his strands and moan out your approval. Within minutes you were rolling your hips up into his face and crying out his name. He brought his fingers up to swipe through your soaked flesh, gently brushing against your entrance.
“Have you ever been penetrated sweetheart?” he asks
“Nothing, um. Oh god...nothing more than a tampon.” you hated to be that blunt, but your brain was short circuiting to the point of full cascade failure.
“Ok, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle, I promise. Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes shining.
“I trust you more than anything, baby.” your reply had his heart soaring in his chest.
He gathers some of your arousal around his index finger and slowly begins pushing inside. The feeling initially taking your breath away; not from pain, but from such a foreign feeling. He slowly begins moving in and out and letting you adjust to the sensation. Your walls begin clenching around the digit as you writhe under his ministrations.
“I need, fuck...I want…. Jackson, please?” you were babbling nonsense, but he easily understood.
“I’ll do anything you ask of me, sweetheart. Do you want me to go faster? Do you want another finger? ” his warm breath fans against your wetness; his tongue gliding over your clit to punctuate each sentence until the last one made you cry out again, your walls clamping down.
He gets up on his knees for a better angle. He then brings his fingers to his mouth, to not only taste more of you, but to lubricate his middle and ring fingers before sliding them both inside, shallow and smooth.
“Oh god.” you moan, you can’t say there’s not a small twinge of pain, but you really don’t care. Feeling his thick fingers stretching you is pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You yank his face back towards your clit because you still need more.
With a soft grunt, he attaches his mouth back to your core, alternating between sucking and licking while stretching your walls little by little. As amazing as he is with all of this, it’s still not enough and you whine his name.
“More please, god I can’t take it.” you cry out.
“Sweetheart, maybe we should slow down. I don’t want you to do too much right away.” his mind says to hesitate while his cock throbs painfully between his thighs. You’re at your wits end, so you tug on his hair, indicating he move up. He stands, left hand still tight around his dick just in case he goes off like a pistol without the safety. You take the opportunity to grab both his arms and pull him down on top of you. As your lips meet, his cock head brushes against your dripping center and you shudder violently. You may not have ever had it before, but you know that’s exactly what you need; his girth splitting you in two.
“Please take me, Jackson.” you whimper, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips
“Oh my god, we’re really doing this? I’ve wanted you for so long, I just didn’t know how to say it.” he sighs into your neck as you roll your hips repeatedly, reveling in the feeling of his cock sliding around through your folds.
He pulls away with every last drop of his willpower. “I need to get a condom sweetheart. I don’t wanna knock you up the first time I get my dick inside you.”
“I’m on the pill already Jackson. I have been for years because of my periods.” you reply. “Haven’t you ever seen the blister pack in the medicine cabinet?” you giggle sweetly.
“You mean you want me raw?” his eyes grew to the size of saucers.
“If you’re gonna be my first, I wanna feel all of you. Every. Single. Inch.” your words interrupted by each sweet kiss you place across his face.
He actually whimpers at that, shivering like he’d been dunked in ice. “You’re un-fucking-real sweetheart.” he pulls back and shifts to lay down on his back, but you stop him.
“What are you…” he cuts off your question before you can finish it.
“You should be on top, so you can control everything. Speed, depth, pressure.” he explains, but you’re not interested.
“I told you, I trust you. Make me feel good.” you whisper before placing a chaste kiss against his lips.
He re-situates himself back on top of you, grasping his cock and sliding it through your folds to gather as much fluid as possible. He curses himself for not grabbing some lube prior, but he honestly never saw this coming.
“I’m telling you right now, this is probably gonna hurt. I’m not trying to brag, but I am above average and as far as I’m concerned, I didn’t spend nearly enough time prepping you.” Jackson worries at his lip, almost expecting you to back out.
“I know, I’m ready” you vow, using your legs to pull him down, his blunt cockhead resting perfectly against your entrance. He starts pushing his hips forward, slow and steady, sliding easily with the mix of his saliva and your own arousal. The pressure is definitely intense, but not painful as his head breaches you completely.
“You okay?” he checks in, ready to jump off if needed.
“I’m okay, it’s just...pressure?” you try to find the right word. “Just keep going.”
He lets his hips thrust forward another inch or so as he feels your barrier pinching at his tip.
The pressure escalates into a rather unpleasant ache that intensifies with his forward motion. You buck your hips to hurry it up, but pain finally sparks to life and he doesn’t go any deeper. You grit out a ‘fuck’ before asking. “It’s starting to hurt. Just do it please?”
“Okay sweetheart, I’ll try to distract you.” he leans his head down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss as he releases his hold, allowing his weight to carry him forward inside you to the hilt.
Tears prick at your eyes as you cry out a litany of shrill curses, but the pain starts to fade almost as soon as it starts. He kisses at your eyes and cheeks while whispering words of apologies and comfort as he lets you adjust around him.
When the pain has finally ebbed to a very weak throb, you buck your hips again to indicate you want him to move.
“I’ll go slow, sweetheart” he promises as he begins to withdraw and slide forward once more. The pain is definitely gone, but it still feels foreign. After a few trips in and out, pleasure ignites inside you, spreading through your abdomen and legs.
“There’s no words, god you feel fucking incredible.” he moans. He wants to raise up so he can watch the grip he feels with every thrust, but he’s afraid that will send him over the edge. He resumes kissing you and brings his hand down; fingers toying with your clit lightly.
“Oh fuck, Jackson! Faster, please?” the pleasure has built back up to where it was before he was deep inside you and you can feel yourself being pulled to the edge.
He feels it too, with the way you’re clenching him rhythmically. He’s determined to make you finish first, his fingers working magic against your swollen nub.
“Ohhhhh fuck….I’m gonna…..” your almost sobbing from the pleasure at this point as Jackson starts losing his grip on his sanity.
“That’s it, cum for me sweetheart. Let me feel that tight pussy cum all over me.” he pulls your left leg up and over his shoulder so he can drive deeper and angle towards your g-spot. He finds it immediately, as he feels you clamp down hard.
“Oh fuck...oh god...oh JACKSON!” your practically screaming as your orgasm sets every nerve you have on fire, sizzling like water on a hot pan. You’ve gotten yourself off before, but it never came anywhere close to this. You’re still cumming as his thrusts slow and become more shallow.
“You’re gonna make me blow, sweetheart oh fuck” he prepares to pull out when your legs lock around his, holding him in place.
“Cum Jackson, cum inside me.” your eyes stare directly into his soul and he has no choice but to let go. His cock spurting at least 9 jets of semen into your depths as his ears begin to ring and his lips go numb. He’s never cum that hard in his life and can only manage a weak sigh of your name as the aftershocks take hold of him.
You pull him into an embrace as he peppers kisses along your face and neck, relishing the feeling of his weight on top of you and his semi hard cock warm within your walls. After a few minutes, he finally catches his breath. “Not to be cliché, but was that as good for you as it was for me?” he asks with a goofy grin.
“I can honestly say I didn’t know orgasms could be measured on the Richter Scale, but mine definitely created a debris zone.” you chuckle, eyes closing as your entire body hums with warm relaxation.
Jackson’s laugh rings out through your room as he settles beside you, pulling you into his arms; face to face
“I honestly can’t fathom a better way to become a woman than what just happened.” you admit.
“Sweetheart, you’ve always been a woman, all I did was make you mine.” his tone was cocky, but his eyes held a hopeful glint.
Synopsis:
The reader has been avoiding Jackson and BamBam, trying to hide how sick they are. But the boys find them anyway—and they’re not happy about it. Cue clingy, domestic fluff as they take care of their stubborn FWB.
Requested: Yes
Word count: 2.0k
You should have known they’d come looking for you.
Jackson and BamBam weren’t exactly the type to respect boundaries—not with you, at least. Being their friends-with-benefits (emphasis on the friends part) meant they were all up in your business, whether you liked it or not.
So the fact that you had been ignoring their texts and calls for the past few days? Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly.
Still, you tried.
You locked your doors, silenced your phone, and buried yourself under layers of blankets in your dimly lit apartment, fighting off the fever that had settled deep in your bones. Every movement felt sluggish, your head pounding with the force of a thousand drumbeats. But no way in hell were you going to call them.
You didn’t need them to worry.
You didn’t need them to see you like this.
Unfortunately for you, Jackson and BamBam didn’t need an invitation to break into your life—literally.
The knock at your front door was loud and insistent.
"Honey! Open up!" BamBam’s voice rang through the silence of your apartment.
You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.
Another knock. Harder this time.
Jackson’s voice, firmer, laced with suspicion: "We know you’re in there. Stop ignoring us."
You groaned, curling deeper into your blanket cocoon. Maybe if you stayed silent, they’d just—
Click.
Your front door swung open, the cons of giving them your apartment keys.
Shit.
You peeked out from under your blanket just as the two men stepped inside, their expressions shifting from annoyed to concerned the moment they saw you.
"Oh, hell no," BamBam muttered, his usual teasing lilt replaced with something softer.
Jackson crossed the room in three long strides, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale skin, glassy eyes, and the way you shivered despite the warmth of your apartment.
Without a word, he crouched down beside you, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. His lips immediately pressed into a tight line.
"You’re burning up," he said, voice dangerously low.
You tried to shrug weakly, but BamBam was already climbing onto the couch beside you, poking at your cheek. "How could you hide this from us?!"
"I—" Your throat burned as you tried to speak, and you coughed into your sleeve instead.
"No. Nope. Shut up." Jackson stood, hands on his hips like an angry mother. "We’re not doing this. You’re sick, and you thought it was a good idea to suffer alone?"
You opened your mouth—to lie, to downplay it, to make an excuse—but BamBam wasn’t having it.
With zero hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, effectively trapping you under his weight. "Guess what? You’re stuck with us now."
"Get off me, you menace," you croaked, but your voice was too weak to sound threatening.
Jackson, unimpressed, simply bent down and—without warning—scooped you up into his arms.
"Jackson—!" you wheezed, but he was already carrying you to your bedroom.
BamBam followed, dramatically clutching his chest. "You should’ve told us, babe. We would've come over days ago."
Jackson set you down gently, pulling the covers up to your chin before sitting on the edge of your bed, arms crossed. "From now on, if you’re sick, you call us. Got it?"
BamBam leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours with an exaggerated pout. "Got it, baby?"
You scowled, but the warmth of their presence—their concern, their ridiculous yet oddly comforting energy—was already breaking through the feverish haze in your mind.
"Fine," you muttered.
BamBam grinned.
Jackson sighed in relief.
And just like that, you lost your right to be left alone.
Jackson took the kitchen.
You heard him rummaging through your cabinets, muttering about "Where the hell is their ginger?" and "I swear, if they don’t have soup ingredients, I’m buying groceries and force-feeding them."
BamBam took the job of “emotional support.”
Which really meant he was laying next to you, playing with your hair, and dramatically sighing every few minutes.
"You really thought you could avoid us?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his teasing tone softer than usual. "You think we wouldn’t notice?"
Your throat was too sore to argue, so you just nudged him weakly with your elbow.
He gasped, clutching his chest. "They still have the energy to bully me. They must be getting better."
You would’ve rolled your eyes if they weren’t so heavy.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson returned with a bowl of homemade soup.
You stared at it. "That looks… suspicious."
BamBam, peering over your shoulder, snorted. "Did you poison them?"
Jackson shot him a deadpan look before turning back to you. "Shut up and eat."
You took a tentative sip. It was… actually decent? Maybe a little strong on the ginger, but warm and comforting nonetheless.
"Okay, it’s not bad," you admitted.
Jackson smirked, smug as ever. "Told you."
BamBam, meanwhile, tried a spoonful and fake gagged. "Ugh, what is this? Medicine?"
Jackson shoved him. "It’s soup, dumbass. Go eat instant ramen if you don’t appreciate my cooking."
Despite the teasing, the room felt soft—warmer than it had been all day.
Hours later, when your fever had lowered slightly, you found yourself half-asleep between them.
Jackson was seated against the headboard, his fingers lazily running up and down your arm. BamBam was curled into your side, one hand still tangled in your hair.
It was… comfortable. Too comfortable.
Maybe that’s why the words slipped out before you could stop them.
"Didn’t want to bother you guys."
Jackson stilled, his fingers pausing for just a second before resuming their slow, soothing motion. "You’re not a bother."
BamBam shifted, his face now dangerously close to yours, voice soft in a way you weren’t used to. "You know that, right?"
Your chest tightened—but this time, it wasn’t because of the fever.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, Jackson sighed, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
BamBam nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your cheek.
And just like that, your defenses crumbled completely.
Maybe you were too tired to keep pretending. Maybe you didn’t want to anymore.
Either way, you let your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the scent of them—cologne, warmth, something unmistakably Jackson and BamBam.
And as sleep finally pulled you under, you missed the way they glanced at each other over your head.
Missed the way BamBam murmured, "Dude, we’re screwed."
And Jackson, running a hand through his hair, exhaling softly: "Yeah… we like them too much, don’t we?"
