itzy oneshots

ryuryeong : how do fights end like?

published october 8, 2024. 1699 words
au
ryujin pov.

"So if you wanted to call her, why didn't you? If you wanted to meet her, why didn't you?"

"I—"

My girlfriend interrupts me, as if she's allergic to the sound of my voice. "You could've. You could've," she repeats, pressing her face into mine.

I back away, but she's so close that she ends up stepping on my feet. "Damn, chill out, Chae." I try to assure her, profusely easing her with a calming gesture of my hands.

"No! No, I won't!" She shoves my shoulder, throwing me off balance and forcing me against the wall. Obnoxiously spitting, she insults me, "You hopeless asshole! You should've just left me if you like her so much. God, I'm wasting my time with you!"

"What the fuck— What do you mean by that?!" I step aside, but she halts in front of me, her arm outstretched, halting me in place.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" she growls, wagging a finger in my face.

I in fact do the opposite. She's not my mom. "I'll raise my voice to whoever the fuck I want. If you're acting up, you fucking know I will."

She slaps me across the face.

I palm my cheek. "Why the hell—"

"You don't disrespect your girlfriend like that."

I turn to her. "I will literally fight you—I don't care." I walk towards the kitchen to ponder. "You need to learn that you're not always right; you're sometimes just saying shit."

She charges at me full speed, wrapping her arms around my torso in an attempt to tackle me. "Listen to me!" she shouts, furious at my "boldness" and the lack of answers.

I fight the urge to lash out and ease her, but I can't not play fair. I grab her shoulders hard, dragging her toward the bedroom where there's less room for her to thrash around. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"You!" she screams, clawing at my hair, trying to rip me apart.

We spin violently, brawling, crashing into the bed. She forces me down, and we wrestle, locked in a cat fight, fists gripping, breaths heavy, as we spill over the sheets.

"Get the hell off me!"

"No!"

"I didn't even... I didn't even—" I start to explain, but she thrusts my face aside, forcing me to look away as she tries to push herself up. "Stop!"

She hits me repeatedly, each strike conveying her frustration. "Fuck you!"

I groan, "Stop that!" and grab her waist, gripping her arm tightly as I lift her, slamming her onto the mattress with every ounce of strength I have. "You're going to stop that."

"Shut up!"

I wouldn't say we're toxic—just a little disheveled.

"You're trying to blame shit on me! I don't understand—"

"Shut the fuck up! Stop!" she blurts, struggling under me, exerting to push me off as I pin her down. Suddenly, she slips her hand to the hem of my jacket, tugging me closer as she pinches my inner thigh.

I scream and retreat, my hand closing around her wrist in a desperate attempt to pull her away, but she's already a step ahead, evading my grasp. "What the fuck?!"

I'm lying on my side while she looms over me, delivering swift attacks. Then, just like that, we're back to fighting for control. It's merely the surge of adrenaline that pushes me to keep up the spar.