I Like Complex Y/N’s

It's getting interesting 😁

LATCH - Part 7

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment, Slight Smut and Emotional Immaturity, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.5k

taglist - @calmyourtitts7 @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @kokoandkookie @inhuno @cherricherryy @le-vent-se-leve @babygirlskz98 @hersheyhearttae

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

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If you've ever heard the expression 'at it like rabbits', that's about the only way to describe where your relationship with Taehyung seems to be heading.

You don’t care where at this point- as long as he’s inside you, over you… under you.

Currently, he’s under you, you just got back from L.A. You're in the backseat of his car parked in the far end corner of the airport's multistorey car park. The windows are tinted, you can both thank Hyundai. Does the car shake? Maybe a lot, but you’re both freaks like that.

The way you’re riding him is... Sharp, fast and hot; needle point precision that feels so agonisingly good it makes his head roll back with a breathless, deep moan.

You fuck as good as you look.

“I love the way you moan.” He groans and pulls you down by your chin and kisses you- all messy, all tongues and teeth.

Taehyung was waiting for any opportunity to have you alone.

He’s not even sure what it is at this point, the thrill of it feels like nothing else, and he could tell you were battling with the thought too.

After that… interesting dinner with the colleagues in L.A, you stormed off to your hotel room and he didn’t see you the entire night.

The whole thing left him feeling strangely empty, and seeing how upset you were had affected him more than he expected.

What if that had been the final straw for you?

He knew Hana had struggled to move on, to choose to quietly accept everything that had happened. They'd spoken before, and he'd encouraged her to stand up for herself—to stop letting you walk all over her. And when she did? She didn't yell, she didn't embarrass you or expose you in front of everyone. Instead, she spoke with a calm, unwavering confidence, as though she knew every word would land exactly where it needed to, and that was something you weren't used to.

It was the kind of confrontation you didn't know how to fight, and it had left you unsettled.

What worries him is what would happen if you really withdrew from everyone? And more importantly, though he'd never admit it out loud, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

You might have been the difficult one, the woman everyone loved to complain about, but nobody deserved to feel like an entire room had turned against them. A small part of him felt a sense of unease accepting that kind of ending for you.

Trouble is, the only way he can seem to get through to you is by sleeping with you.

As the last waves of pleasure fade, your movements gradually slow until they come to a complete stop. The only sounds left are your uneven breaths and the quiet rustle of your fingers combing through your hair. He can feel your thighs trembling with the aftermath of it.

His hands remain settled at your waist, keeping you close as your forehead rests against his.

Then, almost cautiously, you feel the brush of his nose against yours.

It's such a small gesture, yet unexpectedly sweet. Soft enough to make something flutter low in your stomach.

Before you can think too much about it, he's leaning in again, stealing another kiss. This one is different—unhurried, gentle, lingering in a way the others hadn't.

His hand spreads across your back, warm and steady, covering nearly the entire span of it before slowly drifting upward toward the middle of your spine. The weight of his palm feels grounding, comforting.

Warm.

The kiss deepens gradually. Not enough at first to cross any obvious line, but enough that you can feel yourself stepping into unfamiliar territory. A kind of intimacy that feels far more dangerous than anything that came before it. When it starts to feel like it's crossing into that...

You pull away, sharply, lips parting with a soft sound.

He notices the shift in you immediately, so he loosens his hold without protest, allowing you the space to move away if that's what you want.

Still, you catch the quiet exhale that leaves him.

"There she goes," he murmurs. The words aren't bitter. If anything, it sounds almost like quiet acceptance.

Because that's the problem, isn't it?

You've become an itch he can't quite scratch. Every time he thinks he's figured you out, you retreat just enough to leave him wanting more, and lately, all he seems to think about is how to get a little closer.

You catch his muttered comment immediately and shoot him a sharp side-eye, complete with your most unimpressed scowl. An expression he snorts and laughs at because your attitude is too cute at this point.

The annoying thing is, he's not entirely wrong.

You're confused by your own behaviour too. You don't really understand why you want this to keep happening, why you found your way back into his lap after the mess that happened in L.A., but every time you tell yourself you need to stop, you only end up thinking about where and when you two will be alone next.

Maybe it's because focusing on this is easier.

Easier than thinking about how many bridges you've managed to burn this year alone and it's only June.

At least this gives your mind somewhere else to go. Something reckless. Something distracting, because if you're busy making questionable decisions, you don't have to dwell on the growing list of people who'd probably rather avoid you altogether.

But still.

It's Taehyung.

Number one enemy. Jungkook's best friend. Probably the most outlandish decision you've made (after everything you've already done) is wanting him between your legs.

You know the way he tastes now.

All the areas of your body he loves to touch.

The same man you met on your very first day of university—the one you somehow got swept into your own little tornado of disagreements with. Back then, you could only think, this boy is out to get me. He treated disagreeing with your opinions like an Olympic sport:

The dorm room had been barely larger than a studio apartment, but the balcony had made it feel twice the size. The balcony itself had enough room for a folding chair and a few potted plants. Yet it had become your favourite place to butt heads with Taehyung back in the day.

You sat cross-legged in one of the chairs, a laptop balanced on your knees, while Taehyung leaned against the sliding door with the weary posture of someone five minutes away from academic collapse. Back then, he was leaner, more boyish, all long limbs and effortless confidence. The lecturers seemed to adore him, barely giving him corrections, always telling him he was doing great.

You always felt like you had something to prove. Every critique seemed directed at you, every presentation met with another question, another suggestion, another reason to work twice as hard.

“You destroyed the entire composition,” you said, pointing accusingly at the screen.

Taehyung looked up. “I improved the composition.”

“You moved everything two inches to the left.”

“Because your original layout looked constipated.”

Inside the dorm room, Jungkook opened the takeaway bag with the reverence of a man uncovering treasure.

The smell of fried chicken immediately flooded the room.

“Hey,” Jungkook called toward the balcony, already chewing fries. “They gave extra tenders.”

No response.

Taehyung pushed himself off the doorway. “Negative space exists for a reason, Y/N.”

“And so does visual tension.”

“There was tension because it looked wrong.”

“It looked intentional.”

“It looked like the text lost a fight.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, overstimulated and exhausted by his persistence.

“Your mom lost every fight.”

Taehyung halted mid-comeback as if you'd just hit him with a Nerf dart.

“Really? My mom? Real mature, Y/N.”

Silence.

You slammed the laptop shut with a frustrated huff. Jungkook wandered closer to the balcony door, holding up a drumstick like a peace offering. “I’m begging you both to take one bite before this turns into Y/N pushing you off the balcony.”

Taehyung ignored him completely.

“Nobody reading that poster is going to know where to look first.”

“They’re supposed to explore it.”

“They’re supposed to read it.”

Jungkook took another bite before shrugging. “Honestly, that flyer looked kinda sick before Taehyung got to it.”

“Thank you,” you shot back instantly, your shoulders loosening with relief.

Jungkook smiled to himself. He usually sided with you, he knew how intensely you cared. You'd work yourself into frustration over details everyone else could let go of, and someone had to stop you from feeling like you were fighting alone. You started latching onto that comfort he would hand out to you easily.

Taehyung turned to look at his friend, offended.

“You are not helping.”

“I’m helping the chicken disappear.”

The balcony door slid halfway shut with the wind. For a moment, the argument dissolved into the distant hum of rain and traffic.

Then the front door swung open.

Hana stepped inside after finishing her shift at the donut shop near campus, another petty thing about her that somehow irritated you. Her father had money. Why was she insisting on playing the struggling student?

Jungkook looked up immediately.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the sight of her standing there in the oversized uniform and crooked little cap made him smile. She looked tired, cheeks slightly flushed from work, yet she still greeted him with the same quiet warmth.

He understood why she'd taken the job. It wasn't about needing the money. Hana simply liked earning things for herself. She wanted to work hard like everyone else.

Without thinking, he held the box of fried chicken toward her.

“Please.” he begged, pathetically cute, he's just desperate for someone to eat with him.

She laughed softly and picked out a piece.

As she ate, the familiar sound of you and Taehyung firing insults at one another drifted in from the balcony. With an amused sigh, she simply listened, already knowing exactly how the argument would end.

Which was nowhere.

“I don’t know how it always winds up being us three working on projects together,” Hana said.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning beside her against the counter. For the first time all evening, the apartment felt peaceful. The shouting outside faded into background noise as they stood there sharing fries and chicken in comfortable silence.

He'd always worried about you.

But somehow, without noticing when it happened, he had started looking forward to moments like these with Hana the most.

It wasn't just the arguing. There was a time you thought you'd completely wipe Taehyung off the face of the earth just for his ability to wind you up in the most creatively worst ways possible:

The four of you were sat on the patchy grass outside your dorm, bags tossed in a pile beside you. The afternoon sun was warm enough that nobody wanted to go back inside.

"So the ending," Jungkook said, leaning forward, "I still think the writer wanted you to sympathize with him, even after everything."

You smiled immediately. "Exactly! Everyone says he's the villain, but he's way more complicated than that."

Hana's face brightened. "I liked that part too, especially when-"

"Oh!" You cut in, turning back to Jungkook. "Did you notice the symbolism with the bird cage? I swear that's why the last scene worked."

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully.

"The bird cage was my favorite metaphor," Hana tried again with a small laugh. "I actually highlighted-"

You interrupted, talking over her. "And the letter he burned? That scene was heartbreaking."

Hana's smile faltered. She glanced at Taehyung, who had been watching the whole exchange with his chin resting on his hand. At this point, all three of them caught on. Speaking a silent language. Aware of what was happening, but no one ever dared say anything about it to you.

Hana piped up again, just to test the theory they're all telepathically thinking. "I wonder if there'll ever be a sequel."

"I hope not." You replied quickly. "It'd ruin the ending." You shoot her down yet again with a funny look.

There was a brief pause.

Taehyung sat up, rubbed his tired, tired eyes, and employed a strategy only he would think of, because If you refused to let Hana have the conversation, then nobody was going to have it.

"I didn't like the movie at all, or the stale popcorn. I had to run to the toilet straight after. I almost didn't make it and nearly shat a line up the cubicle wall."

Silence.

Hana burst into laughter. Jungkook snorted, trying not to laugh and failing.

You whipped around to stare at Taehyung. Disgust clear as anything on your face.

Taehyung shrugged innocently. "I just felt you deserved to know."

You scowled, crossing her arms as the conversation completely abandoned the movie and centered on Taehyung's ridiculous confession. Taehyung caught your glare and offered the tiniest, most satisfied smile, not because you were disgusted.

It was because, for once, he'd managed to interrupt the interrupter

.

Or there was the time you became genuinely convinced he needed psychiatric help:

The four of you had just finished dinner at your favourite little spot and were about to walk back to the dorms.

The second you stepped outside, the sky opened.

"Great," Jungkook muttered, fishing an umbrella from his bag. "At least I've got this." He instinctively turned toward Hana. She was wearing the thinnest jacket out of all of you, already shivering from the sudden drop in temperature.

Before he could say a word, you looped your arm through his.

"Come on," you smiled. "We'll get soaked if we stand here."

You were so pleased you'd gotten to him first that you completely missed the way Hana's expression flickered.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "You two take it. I'll just run."

Jungkook hesitated. "Are you sure? We could—"

"Really," Hana insisted with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Taehyung stared at the three of you for a long moment. Then, without a single word, he stepped forward, snatched the umbrella from Jungkook's hand... and snapped it clean over his knee.

Silence.

Rain hammered against the pavement.

Jungkook looked down at the two broken halves.

"...Taehyung?"

Taehyung tossed the ruined umbrella into the nearest bin. "There." He nodded once, completely satisfied. "Now it's fair."

You gaped at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Lots of things," he replied. "But at least nobody's dry."

If he couldn't stop you from inserting yourself between Jungkook and Hana, then he'd make sure nobody got what they wanted.

-

You don't realize you've been staring into space until the silence stretches into something uncomfortably long.

You're still sitting in the backseat.

Still beside Taehyung.

He clears his throat, the sound cutting through the haze in your mind.

"Y/N..."

His voice pulls you back.

All those memories had come and gone in the span of a few seconds, flickering through your head like flashcards. Tiny moments that had seemed insignificant at the time now lined up into something impossible to ignore. Every subtle glance. Every poor decision. Every humiliating attempt to make yourself the person Jungkook would choose, simply because he felt like your only source of comfort.

Slowly, you turn to look at him.

He's already watching you.

And for the first time since getting into the car, he looks sincerely concerned, but also trying his hardest to speak from his heart.

You brace yourself, you expect the worst, and you're certain you're numb to it now. But... to your surprise. He says:

"I'm sorry."

Your nose twitches. Because...

"What?" You croak out. Sincerely confused.

"This- this entire situation, it's getting way too messy..." he begins.

"I just... I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you. I don't want you to think what we're doing- is because I'm just looking for a quick fuck... and I just feel like we're heading somewhere that's going to ruin both of us if we keep pretending this is nothing."

There's a pause.

"I like you."

The words are simple.

No grand declaration. No dramatic buildup.

"I liked you secretly- quietly, in a way that felt buried this entire time because for a good portion that I've known you- we've had to be in competition with each other. That's what the lecturers instigated. That's how we were taught to behave to produce the best work.

I got so used to seeing you as my rival that I never stopped to ask why I was paying so much attention to you in the first place.

Now? I'm tired of it. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I don't want every conversation to feel like someone's keeping score.

We've done well, Y/N. We worked ourselves into the ground for years chasing careers we'd dreamed about since university. How many people get to say they've got T.O.P from BigBang on speed dial because he's excited about the work they're doing? And your album artwork for Jennie?"

He shakes his head.

"It was brilliant."

Despite yourself, you smile.

"We've both come so far Y/N. Non stop, for years we've been so lazer focused on doing well... but now, all I want to do is slow down."

You raise your eyebrow in confusion.

"What I mean is... I want to help Hanseo. He's pushing to do well and he needs his first design breakthrough... and Liza?" he huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know what to do about her. She's too distracted with the noise around her. Hanseo is distancing himself from her because he feels distracted. You know she's got this account on tiktok where she paints her nails and trash-talks all of us?" He chuckles.

"No... I didn't know that." you bite back a laugh.

"She's making crazy views from it. She's already said she wants to leave and I think it's time I stop encouraging her not to."

You bite back a laugh, watching him drift off into another thought. He's rambling now. Nervous.

You'd only seen him like this a handful of times.

And every single time, it had become your quiet weakness.

"Okay..." You tilt your head. "That's all very nice."

He looks up.

You fold your arms. "But unless I imagined it..." A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

"You just said you like me?"

Taehyung stares at you for a moment before letting out a small, nervous laugh.

"Yeah."

You wait. He rubs the back of his neck again.

"Another big reason I want to slow down," he says, "is because, as you so eloquently threw in my face back in L.A. I've never been in love. At least, not in a serious relationship."

You raise an eyebrow.

"And out of every woman in the world..." you ask, genuinely curious, "You're making a beeline for me because?"

He huffs.

"Because of something Jungkook once said... He never spoke about you the way everyone else did."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

"Sure, he'd complain about you. We'd all complain about you." A laugh escapes him. "But when I asked him why he even considered going out with you, he'd always say the same thing."

Taehyung pauses, trying to remember.

"'You don't get it. She's different when it's just us.'"

You feel your shoulders relax.

"He said that?"

He nods.

"He'd tell stories about you making him food at three in the morning because he'd forgotten to eat while writing. About you staying awake to proofread things you didn't even understand because they mattered to him. About you dragging him outside when he'd been locked in his room for days."

Taehyung smiles.

"I remember thinking... Who is that girl? Because she wasn't the one I knew. The girl I knew would argue with me over the spacing on a poster for forty-five minutes."

You can't help smiling.

"So I started wondering, what it would be like to be on your side."

He says it so simply that it almost hurts.

"I've spent years competing against you."

Another pause.

"And now all I can think is..."

His voice softens.

"I'd really like to know what it's like to see... the loving side of you."

Just when you think you might start crying from how sweet his entire speech landed. He pipes up again.

"You're welcome to tell me I've completely lost my mind. The doors are unlocked, you can get out anytime, I just- there's no one else I'm feeling this way for. I don't have a Hana, there's only you I'm thinking about. But if it's still weird for you-"

You lean in and kiss him again.

There's no urge to pull away this time, no instinct to hide behind another joke or another argument. Not after everything he's just said.

It's strange—one confession, a handful of honest words, and somehow you feel lighter than you have in months, as though you've finally set down a weight you've pointlessly been carrying.

Don't get it twisted—a mess is still a mess. Somewhere in the back of your minds, you're both already wondering how everyone else is going to react, how many complications are waiting just around the corner.

But that's a problem for another day.

Right now?

LATCH - Part 6

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment and Emotional Immaturity, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.1k

taglist - @calmyourtitts7 @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @kokoandkookie @inhuno @cherricherryy

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

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Dinner with your colleagues after what happened in Taehyung's hotel room this morning is proving to be an interesting affair.

Interesting mainly because you still haven't shown up.

The restaurant is beautiful—an Indo-Persian fusion spot perched high above the city (because… well, persian's are everywhere in this state), it's outdoor patio offering sweeping views of Los Angeles and the ocean beyond. Though, to be fair, anyone living in the Hollywood Hills would probably insist their view is better.

Taehyung sits at the end of the table, closest to the skyline. A cigarette rests between his fingers—a habit he only indulges when he's especially tense.

He's beginning to wonder if the reason you're late is because he broke you.

Then, just as the first round of drinks arrives, you walk in.

You look like you've stepped straight off the set of Selling Sunset.

Your black jumpsuit is backless, revealing the elegant curve of your spine—a sight Taehyung became far too familiar with this morning. The neckline wraps around your throat like a choker, cleverly concealing the mark he'd left behind. The front dips just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage; tasteful, sophisticated, and somehow still enough to make his head spin.

The sight of you again should've made this easier. Easier to remember why he couldn't stand you. Easier to remember every furious conversation he'd had with Jungkook after the truth came out.

Easier to remember Hana crying.

Instead, his mind betrays him. His gaze catches on the line of her bare back and immediately drifts somewhere it has no business going.

To tangled sheets and bruised skin. The sound of your voice saying his name.

Taehyung takes a harder drag of his cigarette, because attraction is one thing... Guilt is another.

And unfortunately, he's currently drowning in both.

Though it's reassuring, in a strange way, to see that he didn't manage to knock all the attitude out of you.

The proof comes when you claim the only empty seat left—directly across from him—and offer nothing more than a few casual hellos to select people around the table.

By select people, that currently means your manager, Yoongi, the only person you bother making eye contact with. Everyone else gets a greeting tossed vaguely into the air, left so whoever likes you enough can answer.

Taehyung has to bite back a smirk as he scratches the edge of his eyebrow with the tip of his finger at your audacity. You catch the gesture immediately.

The intern, Liza, doesn't seem thrilled to be seated beside you. It's obvious in the way her body angles away, her attention fixed firmly on the opposite end of the table where Jungkook, Hana, and Yoongi and Hanseo are in conversation.

From the fragments drifting across the table, you gather they're discussing Jungkook's plans for his second book. Jungkook always joked that he'd write a book about you one day.

You're quiet.

What's even stranger is that Taehyung is too.

He takes another slow drag from his cigarette and deliberately looks anywhere but at you.

Yoongi notices almost immediately.

Because what the hell?

Why aren't his star designers arguing like they always do?

It's unsettling.

Like always, he's had to mentally prepare himself whenever he knows the two of you will be occupying the same space, but now?

Nothing.

No snide remarks. No passive-aggressive comments. No thinly veiled threats disguised as workplace banter, so could this be some kind of miracle lingering in the Los Angeles air? The silence between you and Taehyung is deafening.

And the funniest part...

Everyone else is now starting to notice it too. All heads turn towards the two of you naturally, and if this really were an episode of Selling Sunset, you two would be the height of drama right now.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but even he’s not sure what. He almost seems desperate for you to talk, to sass someone out like you always do, throw a napkin at his face, flip the table.

“Should we just leave them here?” Yoongi whispers to Hana and Jungkook. Like it’s finally clicked into place, LA was the formula to keep us civil.

Jungkook almost chokes on his drink and Hana looks at the two of you sceptically.

"Why do you two look like little kids who just broke something?" Yoongi pipes up, leaning back in his chair with an amused grin. Thoroughly intrigued as to why his two favourite designers are sitting at the end of the table like decorative statues.

You side-eye your boss with your big eyes, your eyelashes fan as you look away with a small frown on your face and the slightest pout on your lips. You cross your arms with a little ‘hmph’ and look towards the view.

Taehyung feels his resolve melt instantly. God, that pout, those glossy lips. It's almost enough to make him forget where he is.

“Weird isn't it boss? Y/N doesn't want to play anymore.” Taehyung says, voice as deep and rich as ever, but his eyes sparkle with that air of mischievousness.

Every time the voice in the back of his head tells him to forget about happened between you two, he ignores it and takes two leaps forward.

He takes another deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his lips and nose, biting back a smirk but you can see it fighting to form. The double meaning behind those words are not lost on you. Especially since the way you left his hotel room after your early morning entanglement was like a celebrity covering her face and strutting away from a camera.

It went something like...

You left the bathroom, sheepishly walking away in the clothes you wore the night before. Picking up your heels and avoiding his eyes.

Taehyung's eyes were immediately drawn to you when you re-emerged from the bathroom.

He took in your figure, noticing the slight shift in your demeanor—no longer so confident, so cheeky. He's seen that kind of look on you before, the one that looks almost timid compared to all your usual bravado.

He could sense that you were trying to make a quick escape and speaks up before you reach the door. "Hold up."

“Absolutely not.” you say, shooting him down instantly with your sharp sass, in denial as always... like you weren't just moaning his name a moment ago.

All he could do was throw his head back with an amused laugh.

He couldn’t even really be mad at you, because he had no clue what to say after being balls deep inside you. The woman he swore he was going to take down just a few weeks ago- the same woman who lied her way into a relationship with his best friend and traumatised the hell out of everyone.

You sit there, stunned. Your perfectly curated persona almost cracking at the surface in front of everyone. The audacity of this man to say something so brazen and not bat an eyelash.

For half a second, the entire table goes silent.

Not because anyone else catches the double meaning, but because everyone is too busy waiting for your usual retaliation. The retaliation that never comes.

You narrow your eyes at Taehyung.

He stares right back, cigarette balanced between his fingers, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Hanseo who's sat next to Taehyung glances between the two of you like he's watching an invisible tennis match.

"Well?" he says. "Are you going to throw something at him or not? I need to know whether to move my drink." The intern says, too cheeky for your liking.

A few people laugh.

You break your intense eye contact with Taehyung and glance over at Hanseo.

“Some of us,” you say sweetly, “know how to behave at dinner.”

Taehyung’s gaze drops to your mouth, just for a fraction of a second, before flicking back up. The corner of his lips twitches. The laughter around the table grates against your nerves, not because it's cruel. Or because anyone is actually being mean, but because they're all waiting. Waiting for you to do what you always do.

Waiting for the eye roll.

The sarcastic remark.

The dramatic threat.

The inevitable argument that everyone seems to find endlessly entertaining. It's like they've already assigned you a role:

Y/N: Professional Diva.

And apparently dinner isn't complete until you've provided the evening's entertainment. You can see it in the way Hanseo keeps looking between you and Taehyung.

The way Liza is trying—and failing—to hide her smirk.

The way Yoongi practically perked up the second the two of you exchanged more than three words.

Like he's finally gotten his favorite television show back after a commercial break.

It's annoying.

Because for once, you're actually trying not to argue. Trying not to acknowledge the fact that every time you look across the table, you're reminded of something that happened a few hours ago, and somehow that's harder than fighting with him.

Nobody notices that you're quiet because you're thinking. You're confused, maybe even a little embarrassed. You're trying desperately to maintain some shred of dignity while sitting across from a man who knows exactly what you look like through your clothes now.

No.

They just want the show.

The second one of you says something remotely sharp, everyone lights up like Christmas.

As if your irritation is public property.

Soon enough, the attention that had been fixed so intently on you and Taehyung drifted elsewhere. Conversations resumed around the table, splintering into smaller groups as drinks were refreshed and plates arrived. The atmosphere settled into something more relaxed, despite the way you're sitting, all petty, looking down at your phone and sipping your wine occasionally.

Then Yoongi pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

The scrape of wood against stone was enough to draw attention, but when he cleared his throat and lifted his glass, the low hum of conversation faded almost instantly. Years of leadership had taught everyone at the table to recognise when he was about to speak.

“Alright,” he began, glancing around the group with an easy smile. “Since we’re all settled, and nobody has set anything on fire yet, I figured I’d say a few words.”

Laughter rippled across the patio, light and immediate.

“First of all,” he continued, raising his glass slightly, “thank you.”

The humour softened from his expression, replaced by something more genuine.

“This year has been insane. We’ve survived impossible deadlines, impossible clients, impossible revisions…” His gaze drifted meaningfully towards your end of the table. “And impossible personalities.”

That earned a much louder reaction. Groans from Taehyung, and laughter from the others, a mock offended look from you.

“But seriously,” Yoongi said once the laughter settled, “everything we’ve accomplished this year happened because of the people sitting at this table.”

One by one, he began calling people out by name.

Hana was praised for somehow keeping entire departments functioning despite everyone’s best efforts to create chaos. Hanseo and Liza received recognition for surviving their first year without collectively handing in their resignations, accompanied by good-natured teasing from the rest of the team.

The atmosphere grew warmer with every toast, every laugh, every appreciative smile.

Then Yoongi’s attention shifted towards Taehyung.

“Taehyung.”

He looked up from his drink, one eyebrow lifting in mild suspicion.

“You drive me absolutely insane.”

A chorus of agreement erupted before Yoongi could continue.

“Every day,” He added.

“Every hour,” Hana corrected.

More laughter followed.

Taehyung cranes over and shoots Hana a mock pout which she laughs at. This only makes you feel worse, because they’re all so close, and you’re at the end of the table sat like a thorny rose.

But again... who can you blame but yourself?

Yoongi waited patiently for it to die down before shaking his head.

“But you’re also one of the most talented designers I’ve ever worked with. Half the projects we landed this year happened because clients took one look at your work and signed contracts before you could even finish the presentation.”

For once, nobody interrupted, as there was an undeniable truth to the statement. Taehyung held Yoongi’s gaze for a moment before giving a small nod.

“Thank you.”

Simple. Genuine. Not a trace of his usual arrogance attached to it. Then Yoongi’s eyes moved across the table. Straight to you. Your stomach tightened immediately.

“And Y/N.”

A collective chorus of “oooh” swept through the group. You closed your eyes briefly. You already hated where this was going, but Yoongi ignored the reaction entirely.

“You are, without question, the most difficult employee I have ever managed.”

The table exploded.

Laughter echoed from every direction. Even Hana tried to keep herself composed. Jungkook is smiling too, but he knows you're not going to make eye contact with either himself or Hana anytime soon.

But when the noise finally settled, Yoongi’s smile softened.

“And you’re also one of the reasons this company is where it is today.”

The words landed with unexpected weight.

“You fight for every project like it belongs to you. You care more than you pretend to, and even though you’d rather throw a chair at someone than accept a compliment… you’ve done incredible work this year.”

The warmth that spread through your chest was immediate and deeply uncomfortable.

You suddenly found the view beyond the patio very interesting.

Anything was better than looking directly at everyone while they stared at you.

“Thank you.”

The sincerity in your own voice surprised you almost as much as it surprised everyone else. For a brief second, the teasing disappeared. Yoongi simply smiled, then he lifted his glass higher.

“To all of us.”

Around the table, glasses rose in unison.

“To surviving another year.”

Crystal chimed against crystal. Cheers followed, accompanied by applause and a few dramatically emotional declarations that earned immediate heckling from the rest of the group.

Just like that, the moment passed.

The atmosphere loosened almost instantly. Conversations restarted. Drinks continued flowing.

Everyone is enjoying themselves, smiling, laughing, sharing stories- all the things you don’t feel like you’re able to do with them.

Hana asks you politely to pass a plate of green olives across to her, which you do… but it’s the way you do it that’s feels like the final straw for her.

Because to you, it felt like you were being casual and indifferent, but to her, after everything you put her through, it was obnoxious as hell. Your refusal to look at her and acknowledge her, not even mutter a small 'sure.' At this point, even Jungkook felt the hostility in the way you did it. He let out a quiet sigh and shook his head.

She let it slide for now.

You released a quiet breath you didn’t realise you were holding as you swirled your drink in your glass. Just a nonchalant little troublemaker.

Then immediately you felt it.

A gaze that was steady and unwavering.

Across the table. Taehyung, of course.

Your eyes lifted despite yourself. His expression was unreadable. No smirk or teasing glint. No trace of the infuriating confidence that usually accompanied every interaction between the two of you.

He was simply watching you, almost thoughtfully.

His eyes dropped briefly to the wine glass in your hand before returning to your face. Then, without saying a word, he lifted his own glass slightly in your direction. A small gesture -subtle enough that nobody else noticed.

A silent acknowledgment of the praise.

Of your achievements.

Of the sincerity neither of you had anticipated, and perhaps of something else entirely.

For a second, you considered ignoring him... You really should have, but instead, you rolled your eyes dramatically and lifted your glass in return, and somehow this felt far more dangerous than any argument the two of you had ever had.

-

It was after dinner, after the drinks, after a couple of them had wandered off to the bar or disappeared toward the bathrooms.

You had thought you'd finally get a moment alone with Taehyung. Maybe talk about what had happened in his hotel room. Maybe clear the tension that had been following the two of you all evening. For the first time all night, you felt relieved.

You felt ready to talk.

Then Hana pulled out the chair beside you.

The scrape of wood against the floor made your stomach tighten. She sat down slowly, facing forward.

You glanced sideways at her, giving her that familiar look. The one that silently asked: Who are you to sit here? What do you want?

Hana laughed once.

Not because anything was funny, but because she recognized the look.

"It's honestly incredible, Y/N," she said quietly. "After everything you've done to me, you still look at me like I'm beneath you."

You felt your expression stiffen. Her voice never rose, and that's what made this feel like your throat was tightening with dread.

She wasn't emotional, nervous… or even appeared visibly angry. She just knew exactly what she wanted to say.

"In university, you treated me like I was something you scraped off your shoe. Every conversation was a test. Every compliment had a knife hidden inside it. You never missed an opportunity to remind me I wasn't as talented as you."

Her eyes met yours.

"And the sad part is, most of the time, I agreed with you."

The words hit harder than any insult. You opened your mouth, but nothing dares to come out. Taehyung looks stunned from the other end of the table.

"Do you know why I never fought back?" she asks.

The question sat between you.

"No? You have no idea?" she questions, "Because I felt guilty."

Her fingers curled around her glass.

"I grew up with parents who loved me. I had money. Connections. Opportunities. Every door was already unlocked before I got there."

Her gaze hardened.

"And then there was you- better than me in every way."

The admission landed heavily.

"You were the better designer. More creative. More instinctive. You walked into a room and people noticed. Professors noticed. You had something the some of us couldn't teach ourselves."

For a second, there was almost sadness in her voice.

"That's why I never said anything."

You frowned.

"Because the second I complained, people would've assumed I was jealous."

She gave a humourless smile.

"And maybe part of me was."

The honesty made your chest tighten.

"You criticized things about me that I was already losing sleep over." Her eyes glistened briefly.

"The internships. The networking. The opportunities my parents helped me get. You think I didn't already hate myself for that?"

The silence stretched.

"When my family helped me get this position, I felt sick. I spent weeks trying to convince people to look at your portfolios. Yours and Taehyung's."

Your head snapped toward her.

"I pushed for both of you because I couldn't stand the thought of talent like yours being overlooked while I got handed another opportunity."

For the first time, anger slipped through.

Not loud.

Not explosive.

Just enough.

"And you repaid that by spending years making me feel like I wasn't worth being in the same room as you."

Her hand slammed against the table.

The glasses rattled.

Taehyung even looked startled- he knows Hana doesn't mind him being there because frankly, she doesn't know what happened between you two this morning, or last night. In her mind he still hates you.

"You want to know something else?"

Her voice dropped lower.

"Jungkook didn't love you."

The words punched the air from your lungs.

Taehyung winced.

"He pitied you. "He told me he was scared of being on your bad side. Everyone was."

Your stomach twisted. The blood drained from your face.

"He spent years trying to keep the peace because he knew how quickly you could turn on people. And the pathetic part? He still defended you. He still hoped you'd find happiness. He saw the good in you long after the rest of us stopped looking."

You couldn't meet her eyes anymore.

Hana stood.

For a moment she simply looked down at you. Not with hatred. Not even with satisfaction. Just exhaustion.

"You made an enemy out of me, Y/N, and that is not something people usually manage to do, because unlike you, I've spent most of my life trying very hard to love people anyway."

Her voice was quiet.

Steady.

Final.

“So I hope you continue doing well. Fly high, and achieve whatever it is you want to achieve, but don’t think for a second I’m going to continue being the Hana you thought I was. This one has less patience… and won’t tolerate anymore of your bullshit.”

She pushes her chair back and leaves.

-

Taehyung doesn't move immediately.

He simply watches you sitting there alone, your shoulders rigid as you exhale a deep breath and rub circles with the tip of your finger on your temples.

For years, seeing you lose like this would've felt satisfying.

Vindicating, even.

After everything you've done, after all the damage you've caused. This should feel deserved.

Instead, all he feels is exhausted, because nothing about this feels victorious anymore. Not after this morning. Not after seeing parts of you nobody else gets to see.

Not after realizing that sleeping with you didn't make him hate you less.

It only tangled the knots tighter. Because where was his own moral compass pointing now? He knew the truth of you. He knew the hurt, the lies, the damage left in your wake. Yet the more clearly he saw it, the more unsettling it became to realise that none of it had managed to extinguish the pull he felt towards you. If anything, it had only made the attraction harder to understand.

-

Hana's chair sits empty beside you. You stare down at the remains of your wine.

Expressionless.

Calm.

Untouched.

At least that's what anyone could see.

But Taehyung can see your hand is shaking. Barely. So slightly that nobody else would notice. But he does. Your fingers tighten around the stem of the glass until your knuckles pale. Then relax, then tighten again. Like you're physically holding yourself together.

"Y/N—"

"Don't."

You swallow.

"Please don't."

That "please" hit Taehyung harder than Hana's entire speech, because you don't normally say please. You argue, manipulate and bite back.

-

You trail behind the others as they make their way back to the hotel, the sounds of their laughter and conversation fading into the background. Hana's words replay in your mind on an endless loop, each one striking just as hard as the first time.

It's almost nauseating, being forced to sit with yourself like this.

Piece by piece, you're beginning to see the full picture of who you've become. Not the version you've spent years defending, but the reality of it. The pettiness. The bitterness. The cruelty.

You can't even blame Hana for a single thing she said.

Not one word.

She was the person you'd hurt the most, and somehow you never once found it in yourself to stop. Never paused long enough to question why your resentment towards her ran so deep, or why every interaction felt like a battle only you were fighting.

You hated her.

Yet you spent years working yourself into exhaustion trying to achieve the same security she had.

You mocked her opportunities while secretly wishing you'd been given them.

You dismissed her designs as mediocre, but at least she was consistent. Reliable. Steady.

While you burned bright and unpredictable, Hana was the kind of person people could trust.

The kind of leader Yoongi saw potential in.

The kind of person others naturally gravitated towards.

And perhaps that was part of what made you resent her so much.

Because no matter how talented you were, no matter how many rooms you walked into and immediately commanded attention, Hana possessed something you'd never quite been able to replicate.

People felt safe with her.

The realization stings.

But not nearly as much as the final truth. The one you've spent years refusing to look directly at. You hated her for something she never had any control over.

Jungkook.

Because from the very beginning, his heart had always belonged to her.

And maybe deep down, you'd known that all along.

Someone as kind as Jungkook, as endlessly patient and soft-hearted as he was, could never help but see the good in people.

He'd seen it in you, long after everyone else had stopped trying.

But with Hana, it was different.

He didn't have to search for it.

It was simply there.

Effortless.

Obvious.

Real.

LATCH - Part 5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment and Emotional Immaturity, Smut, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4k

taglist - @calmyourtitts7 @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @kokoandkookie @inhuno

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

When the taxi finally rolls to a stop beneath the glowing hotel sign, you let out a long sigh and immediately kick off your heels. The relief is instant, sharp enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a second as your aching feet hit the cold pavement. You hook the straps around your fingers and stumble barefoot through the lobby beside Taehyung, the marble floors cool beneath your skin.

Your reflection catches briefly in the mirrored elevator walls—smudged lipstick, hair falling out of whatever elegant style it had started the night in. You look disastrous.

Taehyung notices you staring at yourself and bites back another teasing comment.

By the time you reach your hotel door, your coordination has deteriorated completely. One hand braces against the wall while the other disappears beneath the front of your dress as you search for the keycard tucked somewhere inside your bra.

“I know it’s here,” you mumble to yourself.

Taehyung leans against the wall beside your door, tall and infuriatingly composed while he watches you practically grope yourself in public.

“Classy,” he drawls. “Really keeping the mystery alive.”

“Shhhhh,” you hiss without looking at him, still digging around hopelessly.

He tilts his head back against the wall with a sigh, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him.

“So let me get this straight,” he says. “You lost your keycard, you can't walk straight, ripped off your own lashes in the taxi, and nearly took my eye out with your shoe.”

You pause and blink at him slowly.

“I really need to pee, too.”

His eyes close briefly like he’s summoning patience from another dimension.

—

Taehyung unlocks the door to his own hotel room, stepping aside so you can stumble in first.

The room is dim except for the soft amber glow from the bedside lamps, expensive and impersonal in the way luxury hotel rooms always are. Your heels hit the floor somewhere behind you as you make a frantic beeline toward the bathroom, nearly clipping the corner of the desk on the way there.

The en suite door slams shut.

Taehyung drops backward onto the bed with a tired exhale, one arm thrown over his forehead while the mattress dips beneath his weight. His suit jacket hangs open now, tie loosened just enough to expose the strong line of his throat. He scrolls aimlessly through his phone, though he isn’t really paying attention to anything on the screen.

Water runs for a while.

Then silence.

Then more silence.

He glances toward the bathroom door.

“Are you taking a shit in there or what?” he calls flatly.

The lock clicks immediately.

You yank the door open and glare at him. “No. I was washing my face.”

Your voice is sharp with offense as you cross the room and sit heavily at the edge of the bed, pulling your earrings free one by one.

Taehyung looks over automatically—his gaze lingers.

Without makeup, you look different. Softer around the edges. Younger, almost painfully familiar in a way he hasn’t let himself think about in years.

The last time he saw you barefaced this often was at university, when the two of you survived on vending machine coffee and four hours of sleep. You used to sit cross-legged on the studio floors surrounded by sketches and colour samples, chewing absentmindedly on pen caps while panic spiraled behind your eyes.

You worked harder than everyone else back then. Hard enough to exhaust yourself.

And no matter how many times Jungkook, Hana, or Taehyung himself told you to slow down, you’d always laugh quietly and say:

“I’m still not working hard enough.”

The memory settles heavily in his chest.

He scratches absently behind his ear, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as though rehearsing the words first.

“You did really well with Jennie’s project.”

You look at him, immediately confused.

“And your speech was good too,” he continues, quieter now. “You looked confident and well spoken.”

You stare at him as though he’s started speaking another language.

He huffs softly through his nose before continuing.

“You’ve always been like this.” His eyes flick toward you again. “You work yourself half to death, pull impossible things together under pressure, and somehow still act like none of it means anything.”

The room feels strangely still now.

“You take risks most people would be too scared to take,” he says. “And the annoying part is they usually pay off because you actually know what you’re doing.”

He lifts the vape to his mouth, inhaling deeply. The quiet mechanical hiss fills the silence between you, but it does nothing to ease the sudden tightness in your chest.

“You’re one of the best designers I know, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice lands harder than you expect.

Because Taehyung doesn’t hand out compliments carelessly. Not real ones.

You blink at him.

He blinks back.

Your throat suddenly feels dry.

“…If you think this is going to convince me to sleep with you,” you say carefully, “you’ve misunderstood the situation complete-.”

Taehyung bursts into laughter so suddenly he folds forward slightly, dragging a hand over his tired face.

“That is not what I’m doing,” he says between laughs.

“Mm.”

“I’m serious, I was trying to have a genuine moment and you made it weird.”

“You made it weird by being emotionally available.”

“Oh my god.”

He drops back against the mattress dramatically, eyes squeezed shut like you’re shaving years off his lifespan.

You try not to smile.

Try being the important word.

After a moment, his expression softens again.

He’s been in this industry long enough to understand how hollow success can feel once the adrenaline fades. Awards, applause, milestones—they disappear quickly. What stays with you are the people waiting afterward. The ones who tell you they’re proud.

For him, it had always been his parents. His friends.

Tonight, when your name was called and the room applauded, he remembers noticing something unsettling:

No one had been there for you.

No family. No partner. No one waiting excitedly amongst the sea of people.

Just crowds of strangers and polite congratulations.

After all, you’d gone to your own graduation alone too.

His jaw tightens slightly at the thought, because even back then, even after all the all nighters and casual get togethers that You, Jungkook, Hana and Taehyung had throughout your studies, neither of them could build up the courage to ask why you were on your own.

You look at him suspiciously, wondering what he's thinking, and then... He opens his mouth again.

“You're so stubborn Y/N” he mutters. “Someone should tell you when you’re doing well, because you clearly never say it to yourself.”

The words hit somewhere deep and uncomfortable.

You scoff quickly and move to stand before he can notice the way your expression almost cracks.

But Taehyung catches your wrist immediately and tugs you back onto the mattress.

The sudden pull knocks the breath from you for a second.

He turns toward you completely, brows furrowed. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just frustrated in that helpless way people get when they care deeply and can’t quite explain themselves.

And annoyingly, unfairly attractive while doing it.

Your eyes snag briefly on the sharp line of his jaw, the tired curve of his mouth (no thanks to you), and the loose strands of dark hair falling over his forehead.

God.

Had he always looked at you this intensely?

His gaze drifts downward slowly, lingering for half a second too long against your bare legs before returning to your face. Something unreadable flashes across his expression before he buries it immediately.

For one dangerous moment, the room feels smaller.

Quieter.

Like something is about to happen.

Instead, Taehyung grabs the nearest pillow and whacks you in the face with it.

“You're drunk. Go to sleep,” he says flatly.

-

The next morning, you wake with a miserable groan.

Your head throbs in heavy, punishing waves, your mouth feels like sandpaper, and somehow your bra has twisted itself into a position that seems physically impossible overnight. Every inch of you aches with the consequences of tequila, bad decisions, and sleeping fully clothed.

You squint blearily at the unfamiliar ceiling before memory comes crashing back in fragments.

The bathroom door opens.

Taehyung steps out with a toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth, still damp from the shower and very noticeably shirtless.

And—

Your eyes lower to find he’s standing in his boxers.

He catches you staring immediately.

Sleep still clings to your eyes, your hair is curled wildly in every direction, and judging by the amused look spreading across his face, you probably resemble a bratz doll that went for a spin in the washing machine.

Taehyung lifts a hand and gives you a slow, smug little wave.

“Morning, princess.”

You scowl instantly.

He laughs around his toothbrush as you shove the blankets off and stumble out of bed, looking deeply offended by the idea of being awake this morning.

You brush past him toward the bathroom, shoulder clipping his chest on the way.

Naturally, he follows behind you.

“If you need a toothbrush, you can use this one,” he offers after rinsing it thoroughly under the tap. “I got it in duty free on the way here. Literally only used it once.”

He expects the usual reaction—a dramatic expression of disgust, maybe an insult for good measure.

Instead, you just take it with a quiet, raspy, “Thanks.”

That catches him off guard.

Taehyung watches you through the mirror with narrowed eyes while you brush your teeth sluggishly, still half asleep. Barefaced and exhausted, your features look softer this morning, less guarded somehow.

It does something annoyingly strange to his chest.

“Care to explain,” he says casually, “why I found your keycard tangled up in my sheets this morning?”

Your brushing slows.

He tilts his head slightly, fighting back a grin.

“Because last night, I could’ve sworn you said it mysteriously disappeared from your boobs.”

You stop completely.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare at your own reflection like you’re considering whether denial is still an option.

Then you spit into the sink and rinse your mouth slowly, buying time.

“You sure it wasn’t yours?” you ask, attempting indifference.

Taehyung actually laughs this time.

“Pretty sure, baby.” His eyes flick downward meaningfully. “Mine says room 407 on it. The one I found says 403, the door we were standing outside last night when you were putting on your little act.”

Caught.

Completely caught.

You side-eye him before trying to slip past, but the second you move, Taehyung steps forward and boxes you in effortlessly against the sink.

One hand lands beside you on the marble countertop.

The other hooks loosely around the edge behind you.

Not touching.

Just close enough to make your pulse trip over itself.

He looks unbearably pleased with himself.

“You’re such a little schemer,” he murmurs.

Your eyes narrow automatically, though it’s significantly harder to act unimpressed when he’s standing this close.

“You’re delusional.”

“Mm.” His gaze drifts over your face lazily. “And yet you still faked losing your keycard to get into my room.”

“I was drunk.”

“You were manipulative.”

“I was resourceful.”

Taehyung grins slowly, all amusement and dangerous satisfaction.

“There she is.” he says.

He can see the irritation simmering beneath your skin, the way losing that petty little back-and-forth bruised your pride more than you’d ever admit out loud. What he doesn’t expect—what completely wipes the smug look off his face—is the sudden way your hand snaps up to grip his jaw.

Firm.

Hasty.

You yank him down without hesitation, closing the space between you in one sharp movement before your plush lips crash against his.

Hot.

Impulsive.

A kiss that feels far too much like a challenge.

He kisses you like how he gets furious with you—rough edges and reckless heat—yet somehow it’s still the best thing you’ve ever felt.

"Fuck." He rasps inbetween the wet smacks of your lips against his. "I hate that you’re so fucking pretty."

Makes it harder not to drop down on his knees and give you everything.

Each touch, each kiss, the faint scent of his cologne from last night and the unique taste of him mixed with the minty freshness of his breath makes your head go dizzy- it opens up your heart in a way you didn’t think was possible, and everytime the realisation hits you over, and over... your head goes to mush.

His hands are now on your hips, hoisting you up onto the counter next to the sink.

Taehyung's eyes lock with yours as his body looms over yours—a moment of tension, a moment to feel the heat between you both, maybe even giving you a moment to process what's actually happening in case you want to stop. But you don't. He finally comes back down in another messy clash of lips.

Taehyung's tongue presses between your lips, tasting you as his hand moves to grip the back of your hair gently at the roots—like he's trying to get closer, deeper, to devour you completely.

“Up.” He says, voice deep and authorative.

Fuck.

You think you’re going insane.

You raise your hands up, and he slips your silk cami from last night off your frame.

Then without hesitation, he unclasps your lacy bra and discards of that too, like it was personally offending him.

Taehyung's lips are all over you—your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders, your chest. He's taking his time, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your body with his mouth. He wants to devour you. He hasn't been able to think straight all night, he woke up in the early hours of the morning, hard as anything just by the thought of you asleep next to him. Then… he saw the keycard next to you. Your keycard.

And it’s like all the gears shifted.

You wanted to be here with him tonight.

He repeats in his mind like a mantra.

Now, he has you pressed against the sink, half naked and writhing as he marks you with his lips.

His kisses are hot and wet as he focuses your chest.

He shifts slightly and finally drags his tongue over one peaked nipple—and that’s when it hits you: Oh.

This man knows exactly what he's doing. Every movement is calculated, so damn precise-

Taehyung feels the way your body responds—the tiny arch of your back, the quiet gasp that escapes you when his tongue grazes sensitive skin.

It fuels him.

One hand slides up to cradle the curve of your breast while his mouth works—gentle kisses turning into teasing bites and hard sucks, but he doesn’t let you get too comfortable for long- he bites a little harder, not too hard to feel violent - just enough to make you yelp in surprise, you wince for good measure and shoot him a glare.

He only chuckles and moves back up, looking down at you. He fucking loves the way you scold him with your pretty eyes and brows turned into a frown.

"You don't like that?" he asks with his head tilted like he's taunting you.

You raise an eyebrow, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.

"What if I do?"

"Well then… I'd be asking how far you're willing for me to take you, because I like it rough, hard…" He eases your skirt off and it joins the pile on the floor.

"-messy, sweaty, desperate…" his voice deepens with every word, like a promise. He doesn't have to worry about his words scaring you off, he can see it in your eyes and the subtle hitch in your breath that you're eating this up. That someone is finally embracing your chaos, and you’re embracing his too.

He peels your underwear off, throws it over his shoulder, and shamelessly spreads your legs, wide and exposed for him. He licks his lips, glancing at you momentarily.

"So? How do you want it princess?" He asks.

Your breath hitches, pulse racing at being so exposed.

"I want all of the above."

Your words flip a switch inside him, like it's been painful for him to wait for a response. Without a moment to spare, he dives down, his mouth finds its way between your legs, lips sealing against you in a deep kiss as his tongue laps at you. He hums in satisfaction against you when he feels just how slick and desperate for him you already are.

"Taste so fucking good," he growls between licks—voice thick with arousal. "Like I knew you would."

A sharp moan leaves your lips as your body arches towards him. The way he just went for it almost knocked the wind out of you.

“Fuxk- oh my god- Tae-“

Taehyung smirks against your heat when he feels you tremble under his touch—the way your body arches, the way your toes curl, the little gasps and whimpers you’re letting out for him.

"That’s it," he murmurs darkly, dragging his tongue up in one long, slow stroke just to feel you shiver. "Say my name."

And then—with zero mercy—he devours you again like a man starved.

The sounds are slick, loud and unapologetic.

-

Strike one, he made you fall apart on his tongue, pressed up against the bathroom sink.

Next round, he carries you back to the bed. Just as promised, you’re on your stomach, he kneels at the edge of the bed, and thanks to the full length mirror on your right, you can see the way his eyes darken in a way that already has your legs melting like jelly.

Behind you, all see is his hand disappear between your legs, your body arched in a perfect position that makes your ass look heart shaped from where you're both stealing glances in the mirror.

His fingers are working through your slick folds, over your swollen cilt- and you can only see his forearms moving- sinful. The sight makes you shudder. You can't see exactly where he’s touching, but you can feel it, and it makes your head go dizzy.

You arch further and chase his touch. You’re so wet, it feels embarrassingly loud, but Taehyung is a freak for this kind of thing.

“Fuck- your pussy loves to talk.” He rasps and removes his hand from your throbbing clit to spit on it. He slips his index finger inside you slowly. Your body accepts it, tightening and pulsing around his finger.

“So hot and wet, all for me, yeah? Makes me want to fuck you dumb.” He leans over to say that in your ear, nipping and sucking at your earlobe.

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you bite back a smile glowing with quiet satisfaction.

You always wondered whether this man was capable of being so… precise. So far, he hasn’t put a foot wrong, and it makes you think you would let him do anything to you.

He slips a second finger inside you and your breath hitches, it stings a bit. It’s been a while. You body shudders as you grip the sheets underneath you, but the feeling leaves as soon as it came.

“You take my fingers so well- fuck, you’re practically dripping all over the sheets.” He says, voice smooth as silk.

"Do you want me?" He asks simply, but the underlying smugness is enough to make you melt the same way you did on his tongue.

"Yes. Fuck- yes-"

He can hear how impatient you're getting. He can feel it around his fingers.

"I can tell, your tight little cunt is practically crying for me."

He leans over to grab a pillow, he taps your ass gently as a way to say 'lift your hips.' When you do he positions it under your hips, arching your body to the perfect angle for him to slip in.

He positions himself properly behind you, your legs brushing and tangling against his in a way that feels playfully intimate.

His boxers are lowered just enough for him to free his dick, already hot and ready for you. He catches the sight of you looking at him, your eyes meet in the reflection.

That little smirk, you want to kiss it right off his face.

"You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you princess?" He says.

You nod your head as you feel his tip pushing into you. You can feel the sharp stretch, but you don't mind.

Before he pushes all the way in, inch by inch, he pauses and lowers his head, he spits a string of saliva and it lands where you two are connected, all performative, all mess and filth he wants you to gape at.

Taehyung gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts to move. One hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip.

And when you give him the go ahead, he's builds up the momentum and sets a steady rhythym—the sudden stretch and burn making your toes curl into the cushions as you let out a broken moan.

"Fuck—so tight—" he hisses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he drives into you with a force that steals your breath.

Each snap of his hips is timed with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Each one sends your body jolting forward and makes your ass jiggle in the way he loves most about this position.

"Take it," he growls, voice wrecked. "Take every fucking inch like the greedy little brat you are."

Taehyung’s pace turns brutal—no finesse, no restraint, just pure possession as he slams into you over and over, the sharpness of your gasps and moans echoing in the room. His fingers grip the back of your neck, forcing your spine into a deeper arch as he leans down to rasp directly into your ear:

“You feel that? How deep I am? How full you are?”

His free hand slides under your hip, fingers finding your clit again—rough, ruthless circles that have you choking on a sob.

“Gonna make you come again,” he snarls, teeth grazing your shoulder. “And you’re gonna thank me for it.”

Each word coming out of his mouth goes straight to your core. Thank him for it? Sounds like such a taehyung phrase.

You're enjoying every minute of this.

Taehyung loves the way you're falling apart for him, how desperate and needy you're becoming—how you're begging for more with every ragged moan and every broken word.

"Ah f-fuck - so thick-"

"Yeah? Is it that good baby?" he growls, his teeth biting down hard on your shoulder. "Look at you, whimpering for me—can barely even form a sentence."

Taehyung’s free hand slides up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair and yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat. His breath is hot against your skin as he smirks at the way your lips part—gasping, wordless.

"That’s it," he murmurs, pressing a bruising kiss to your pulse point. "Let me hear you."

His hips snap forward—harder—the angle punishing as he drives into you with a groan.

"Fuck—don't stop - s-so close now."

He can feel it around his shaft, how impossibly tight you get, with each thrust it's like you're pulling him back inside you. He doesn't dare move an inch from that specific spot he's pounding over and over.

The hand in your hair tightens, forcing your back to arch even more as his other hand slips down to circle your clit—ruthless, fast, like he’s determined to drag you over the edge now.

"Come."

It’s not a request. It’s an order.

-

Taehyung can't get over the sight of you- lips swollen from biting them, your legs are trembling from the journey this man just took you on. Like he already had it rehearsed, knew which positions to switch to next. Folding you and arching you like a ragdoll.

You're not one for recording but you would have that taped on a dodgy camcorder any day.

You're not one to squirt but somehow he fucked it out of you when you pulled you back into a reverse cowgirl position after he prone boned you through the mattress.

Messy?

Sweaty?

Desperate?

He ticked all of the above.

The way he gazes down at you now, smug and thoroughly satisfied, makes you forget for a second about every awful thing that happened before you stepped foot into his hotel room.

Question is how the hell are you two going to step out of here, back into reality like nothing happened?

LATCH - Part 4

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment and Emotional Immaturity, Eventual Smut, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.6k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

It’s been two weeks since you showed up at your ex’s door to apologize and ended up vomiting on him instead.

Ever since then, your mood has been consistently foul.

Despite this, you try to make amends with the intern, Hanseo.

You stop beside his desk, posture stiff enough to ache.

“I can show you how I pull a concept together, if you’d like,” you offer, the words dry and awkward in your mouth. “I’m working on make up branding for Katseye.”

Hanseo blinks up at you. Then he leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest.

“Taehyung has a meeting with T.O.P from Big Bang,” he says smoothly. “They’re discussing logos for his new alcohol line. He asked me to sit in.”

The professionalism in his tone does nothing to hide the childish pettiness underneath it.

A rejection wrapped in courtesy.

I don’t forgive you.

Taehyung's offer is better anyway.

Go away.

Your eye twitches.

“Okay,” you say simply.

You turn and walk off, but the second you do, humiliation crashes over you so hard it almost feels physical.

Suddenly, it feels like the entire office is watching.

Every glance snags on you. Every hushed voice sounds sharpened into judgment. They’re waiting for something, for you to snap, to lash out, to finally crack and reveal the embarrassment burning beneath your skin.

And God, you feel it.

It crawls slowly up your spine, hot and sickening, before settling across the back of your neck and blooming into your cheeks. Your palms turn damp. Your chest tightens. Even breathing feels painfully noticeable, like everyone can hear it.

You keep walking anyway, pretending you can’t feel their eyes following you all the way back to your desk.

How foolish of you to think an apology would fix any of your wrong doings.

As if you could slap a pretty pink bandage over a wound split down to the bone and expect it to heal cleanly. No infection. No scar. No lasting damage.

You should’ve known better.

The thought sits heavy in your stomach as you stare blankly at your monitor, the cursor blinking back at you like it’s mocking you. Around you, the office hums on as normal, keyboards clacking, muted conversations drifting through the room, someone laughing quietly near the break area, but it all feels distant. Muffled. Like you’re sealed behind thick glass.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The question circles endlessly, meaner every time it comes back.

You replay the conversation in your head and somehow make it worse each time. The stiffness in your voice. The way Hanseo looked at you. The way he dismissed you so easily, so politely, like he’d already decided you weren’t worth the effort of anger anymore.

Maybe that’s what stings most.

Not the rejection.

The indifference.

Your jaw tightens. Heat crawls beneath your skin again, ugly and suffocating.

Maybe I should just fuck off.

The thought comes quietly this time.

Just tired.

And it’s like your manager Yoongi has read your mind.

He walks over, hands in his tailored pockets and a warm, fatherly smile on his face.

“Jennie is hosting an album launch in L.A. She’s invited us to come. She wants you there.” He says with a proud look.

Ding Ding Ding

You start to feel your dignity recharge.

“Yes. Definitely. A hundred times over. I’ll be there.”

-

The company had to compromise flying economy so the group can splurge on a nicer hotel once you got to L.A.

You have the window seat (standard).

Taehyung shoves his rucksack in the overhead compartment above you, then parks his ass in the seat right next to you.

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

You then start to look around. All the seats are taken. Hanseo is sat with Liza, because rookies have to stick together.

Yoongi wasn’t going to sit next to you because you spray too much perfume and it tickles his nose.

Hana politely avoids you like a plague.

So that leaves Taehyung.

He glances over at you with a lazy chuckle, because he's known you for years. He can practically read your thoughts right now and why you're looking around.

“Congrats again on winning Jennie's cover," he drawls sarcastically, clearly still bitter about losing that pitch war. "Try not to let it get to your head too much while we're there."

He stretches his legs out into your space just enough to be annoying, because what’s a long flight without some petty rivalry?

You huff and tut and push him away.

“Stop hogging all the space. Long-legged freak.”

Taehyung's smirk only widens at your irritable response. He's clearly enjoying getting under your skin as usual, and the cramped plane seats are perfect for that.

"Oh please," he counters, not budging an inch from his comfy position. "You're so tiny, you don't need that much space."

With that, he manspreads further. Liza and Hanseo settle in the seats in front of you and suppress their own laughter. Like they're all in on this big joke that you were never a part of and never will be.

“I wish you would just combust.”

Taehyung lets out a sharp, amused laugh at your comment. As if the thought of him disappearing is that ridiculous.

"Nice try," he says, shifting slightly just to accidentally nudge you with his elbow. "But I'm not going anywhere."

You push him away again.

He turns his head with a chuckle, and he catches Yoongi walking past dressed like an actual tourist (floral shirt included) and barely holds back a snort. "Damn Boss, who let you pack like that?"

Yoongi glares halfheartedly and continues down the aisle towards the toilets, wanting to use it now whilst it's fresh, clearly done with both of you already.

You close your eyes and try so hard not to laugh. The last thing you need is taehyung seeing you laughing at his lame jokes. You never find them funny. So whats the deal now?

You inhale a deep breath and pick out a magazine to read.

Taehyung doesn't miss the little smirk that quirks at the corner of your lips before you quickly hide it behind the magazine. He grins lazily, satisfied that he managed to get even a faint reaction from you.

For a few blissful, silent minutes, you both sit quietly, reading and pretending to ignore each other.

But after a while, Taehyung gets bored. He glances over at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He's itching to test your patience during this flight.

"Hey." He breaks the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

He feigns innocence, like the little instigator he is—as if he doesn't know the question he's about to ask is guaranteed to get under your skin.

“No. Shut up.” You shoot him down instantly.

Taehyung grins wider as you snap at him so fast. He takes a moment to just study you with a smug look, so stern and bristly all the time, especially when it comes to him. It's almost endearing...

Almost.

He feigns a pout in mock-disappointment at your harsh response. "Ah, Don't be like that," he taunts in a singsong voice. "It's just one question."

“What?!” You snap and slam the magazine down on your lap.

A few people around you jump a little, even the stewardess. Taehyung doesn’t flinch a bit. He’s so immune to you now.

Taehyung grins wider at the impatient edge in your tone. The more annoyed you get, the more he enjoys it—it's like watching a little pressure cooker about to explode.

"Calm down," he has the cheek to say. "I just wanted to know if you took your motion sickness tablets?"

No way did he go there.

Oh he knows what he’s doing.

"I just, wouldn't want you throwing up or anything." He says with a tight-lipped smile.

That does it.

You make a tiny fist and go to swing at him but he grabs you just in time. His big hand encompassing yours.

He bursts out into laughter and kneels over. You roll up your magazine and whack him with it. Over and over. Like you’re trying to flatten the worlds largest mosquito.

He continues to laugh.

The flight attendant approaches cautiously, visibly flinching with every strike you land against the man. Around you, the other passengers stare on in shock, alarm spreading quickly through the cabin.

You slam the magazine down on the small table and stand up.

“Yoongi. Can I switch seats?!!”

Yoongi, a few seats ahead of you, turns towards you with a raised eyebrow at your outburst. He eyes both you and Taehyung with the exasperated look of a person who knows exactly what goes on between you both.

"No." He replies simply, shaking his head. He glances at Taehyung, who's still got that maddeningly smug look on his face, his hair in all directions from your magazine assault. He watches the whole exchange.

"Can't you guys be civil for one single damn flight?"

You tut and stomp your foot. You turn your attention to Hana.

“Switch seats with me.”

Hana, who was peacefully reading a book next to Yoongi, looks up at you with mild surprise. Her expression flickers with hesitation—like she really doesn’t want to get involved in whatever petty war is happening between you two right now.

"Uh... I don't know," she says carefully, glancing over at Taehyung—who’s watching the whole thing with lazy amusement. "I kind of like my seat."

You lose your patience.

“You don’t know? You two are practically trusted alies. Why the hell not?!” You sass at her. All the flight attendants start looking in your direction with caution.

Hana looks at you like someone who’s spent six years biting her tongue, swallowing every irritation for the sake of peace, but now, your tone, your attitude, even your mere presence is starting to scrape violently against her last nerve.

Yoongi lets out a slow breath, looking physically pained by this entire situation. "If I could fire both of you without tanking the company, trust me, I would."

You go quiet.

"Now zip it."

Taehyung raises his hands in mock surrender but doesn't say anything else.

You sit back down the minute Yoongi raises his voice.

-

As soon as the plane lands and everyone starts gathering their things to deboard, Taehyung can't resist one last little jab at you.

"That was dramatic even for you. Congrats on new heights." His tone drips sarcasm as he brushes past where you'e all waiting by luggage claim later that night.

You turn on your heel, but Yoongi ushers you away before you can fire off whatever scathing remark was brewing in your throat.

"No," he snaps, voice dangerously low. "We're not doing this in the middle of LAX at 10PM."

Taehyung watches from a few feet away—still smug, but smart enough to know better than to push it further when Yoongi is this close to actually murdering both of you. He just gives a lazy little salute with two fingers before turning on his heel and sauntering off toward baggage claim like nothing happened.

Hana sighs heavily beside Yoongi who is exhausted by both of you already and the trip hasn't even properly started yet.

"I need a drink."

-

The following evening, everyone begins getting ready to leave for Jennie’s album launch.

By the time you finally step out of your hotel room and descend the staircase into the lobby, heads turn almost instantly. For a brief moment, you look less like the designer and more like the idol herself.

You’re dressed in a matching blazer and mini skirt set cut from deep maroon leather, the color rich enough to catch the warm hotel lighting with every step. It looks luxurious without trying too hard. Expensive in the effortless way only you seem capable of pulling off.

That’s always been your talent.

You know how to build a look that feels iconic without drowning it in labels or excess. Every piece looks intentional. Sharp. Memorable.

Taehyung is waiting in the lobby along with everyone else when you arrive, and he immediately glances up as you walk down the stairs, almost doing a double take when he registers the sight of you.

He whistles under his breath at your outfit, his eyes raking down the tight, bodycon fit. For once, he's actually at a loss for words. Because damn: You always know how to dress.

You stop in my tracks when you see something, or rather someone who immediately steals the show from you tonight.

Jungkook, stood next to Hana. He's tucking away a stray hair behind her ear.

Taehyung notices your sudden reaction when you spot Jungkook, because how could he not? When your entire body suddenly goes rigid, the record scratches and your mini runway moment is ruined?

It makes sense. Of course he’d be here for Hana.

He booked his own flight and came all this way just to be with her. And now that he has the love of his life back, he spends every spare second at her side, like he’s terrified distance might steal her away again.

Taehyung watches you carefully as a myriad of emotions flicker across your expression. Theres too many for him to decipher in a moment.

He knows your last encounter with Jungkook was bad by your standards. Hell, he can tell just by looking at you that it still bothers you even now. Seeing him again, and seeing Hana on his arm has definitely gotten under your skin. That much is obvious.

Jungkook turns and notices you, he doesn't know whether to say Hi, because he doesn't feel like you're anywhere near that stage yet. He just watches as you storm past in your heels like you didn't completely shake up his and Hana's world a few months ago.

You wonder if Jungkook can tell you’re still in the slow, painful process of peeling yourself away from him emotionally.

-

When you all reach Jennies album launch, she requests for you to join her at the podium as she gives her speech. She thanks you for your contribution to the album cover and concept.

Taehyung takes a back seat as you stand on stage beside Jennie and watch her speak about her excitement for her album. He watches as everyone applauds and listens in silence—all the press corps, the media reps, the other celebrities gathered for this event and more. He notices just how well-loved Jennie really is.

His gaze flicks to you, watching as even you manage to look perfectly composed and professional as she gives you a shout-out. You may be a un-hinged and hotheaded mess in private, but here in front of everyone… you look every bit the top-tier designer you are.

The only thing worth celebrating tonight is your achievements. Not you personally.

After your little speech and an hour spent drifting through shallow conversations and forced networking, you slip out onto the balcony with your vape clutched between your fingers.

The night air is cooler out here, but it does nothing to settle the bitterness crawling beneath your skin.

Because just a moment ago, you saw Jungkook kissing Hana at the bar.

And something dark and ugly inside you reacted instantly. It felt violent enough to make your chest tighten with it.

For one horrible moment, the cruelest part of you wanted to hurl a glass straight in their direction.

Taehyung notices the way you tense the moment you walk out and catch sight of it. The murderous glint in your eye, the way your fingers twitch at your side like they’re itching to throw something. You raise the glass with every intent to watch it smash next to your feet, right outside on that balcony, visible through the glass doors where anyone inside could see.

He steps into your path before you can actually do anything reckless and grabs the glass out of your hand with a sharp glare.

"Don't." he warns under his breath, voice dangerously low, like he knows exactly what kind of impulsive bullshit is about to go down if he doesn’t stop it right now. "You know throwing a tantrum here will only make things worse."

You clench your teeth and look up at him.

“Then hit me with it.” You deadpan.

Taehyung's grip tightens on the glass as you glare up at him, your drunkenness making you more reckless than usual. He's not amused, his jaw tightens slightly as he resists the urge to actually shake some sense into you.

"Don't tempt me," he warns darkly, leaning in closer so only you can hear him, voice rough with frustration. "Because I will drag your drunk ass out of here before you embarrass yourself any further."

His eyes flick toward where Jungkook and Hana are still sitting at the bar, blissfully unaware of you looking like you’re one meltdown away from being sent to a mental asylum.

You let out a deep, deep breath, trying to reel in your own scathing jealousy that’s resurfacing yet again.

You lost. You know you have. Two weeks ago you swore you're healing, wanting to apologize and wish them well.

So why does it feel like that's all out the window? Like a reset?

Now, all you just want to do is unlock your jaw and swallow Hana's head full.

How is this healing? What’s the verdict? You apology feels like the biggest loss. Jungkook is kissing hana by the bar, on the night of what’s supposed to be your biggest career achievement, and all you can do is stand outside and chainsmoke your vape.

Taehyung watches you try to clear your own head, to try and calm down, to breathe without feeling like you’re losing your damn mind. The longer you're out there, the more his expression softens, he knows how much seeing them together affects you.

After a long beat...

"You done sulking yet?" His tone is softer than usualZ Less taunting and more… exhausted. Like he’s tired of this cycle too. "Why can't you just come back inside and enjoy your night?"

You shake your head. Your inner child is screaming: why can't you just understand how this feels?

"You need to let him go."

“You’re not my friend. You’re just a pest I tolerate on a day-to-day basis. I don’t have to listen to you, and you don’t have to pretend to act like you understand the situation.” You slur, words laced with venom.

Taehyung doesn't even blink. In fact, he's expected this kind of attitude from you: sarcastic, biting comments when you feel backed into a corner, like a feral trapped animal. He's more than used to this side of you, the one that lashes out when she's hurting.

"You're right," he retorts, his tone growing colder. "I'm not your friend. I'm just some sorry bastard trying to stop you from self-destructing."

You lose your patience and push at his chest.

“It’s all your fault! If you just kept your fucking mouth shut he’d still be mine!” You say in drunken rage.

Taehyung doesn't even budge from your shove. He just stands there, towering over you and looking completely unfazed—not even a hint of anger on his face. Instead, something dark flickers in his gaze.

"If you weren’t a manipulative, obsessive liar, you wouldn’t have lost him in the first place," he points out flatly. "You only have yourself to blame."

You run a shaky hand through your hair.

Then you begin to cry.

The sight of you suddenly crying makes him freeze. He's never personally seen you cry before. Not once.

He's seen how cold, how calculated you can be, how sharp and witty and stubborn you are—he even sees how angry you get when you're hurt. But seeing you cry… it throws him completely off balance.

It's hard not to reach for you.

Taehyung exhales sharply, his jaw tightening as he wrestles with himself for a long moment. Part of him wants to walk away, to let you wallow in the mess you created.

But the other part…

He curses under his breath before stepping forward and grabbing your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him through tear-blurred vision.

"Enough." he snaps, voice rough but lacking its usual bite. "You made your choices. Now own them, and learn to move on." His grip tightens slightly, not painful, just firm enough to shake some sense into you before letting go with another frustrated sigh.

"You’ve never been in love.” Your argue.

Desperate.

Taehyung's jaw tenses again as the words hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. You knew that would sting, and you knew him well enough to know that it would work, because it's the truth. He's never been in love.

He scoffs and shoves his hands back into his pockets. It feels too personal to look at you like this.

"And you can confidently say you have?" he counters sarcastically. Like he refuses to call whatever fixation you had with Jungkook love.

“Yes, and it fucking sucks."

Taehyung clenches his jaw at the rawness in your voice. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for you (not after everything you did), but there’s something about seeing someone as sharp and calculated as you breaking down like this that makes it hard not to.

“You fucking suck.” you continue.

Then your attention catches on Jungkook, now sitting alone at the bar, one elbow propped against the counter. Hana must’ve gone to the restroom or somewhere nearby.

“I’m going to go talk to him” you say, like a broken record.

Taehyung's expression darkens and he growls in frustration.

He steps in front of you before you can take a step forward. "Absolutely not," he says firmly, blocking your path. "You're drunk. You're not going anywhere near him like this."

“Let me go!” you say as you try to pull away.

Taehyung doesn’t budge, his grip on your arm tightens just enough to keep you in place as he glares down at you with a warning look. Then he slips it down your arm and takes your hand.

"No." His tone leaves no room for argument, especially not when it comes to this. "You're not making this worse for yourself than it already is."

Jungkook, still unaware of the brewing storm between you two, glances over at some point, just long enough that his eyes briefly land on where Taehyung is holding your hand and walking with you outside the building with urgency. His expression flickers with confusion.

Taehyung exhales sharply through his nose before dragging you out the party.

"Taehyung!" You hiss as he practically drags you out of the venue and into the alleyway outside.

Taehyung finally lets go of your hand once he’s sure you're far enough away from causing another scene. Though he doesn't step back, his towering frame blocking any escape route as if expecting you to bolt back in there like a madwoman.

"You’re done," he states with a finality that reads: this isn't up for debate. "You're not talking to him tonight. Not like this."

He lets go of your hand, you snap it back to your side, all dramatic and petty.

Noise swallows the entire street, people laughing over one another, music pulsing through the air, the distant blare of traffic and car horns bleeding in.

It’s enough to drown everything else out.

So you don’t hear the sharp click of heels approaching behind you. Don’t notice Jennie—the client you fought tooth and nail for—walking straight toward the scene unfolding in front of her.

Because by then, you’re too far gone.

Locked in. Fueled entirely by alcohol, frustration, and fury.

The war has officially begun.

With clumsy, reckless determination, you kick off one of your heels and grip it tightly in your hand before flinging it toward Taehyung.

The shoe misses Taehyung's head by a mile off, and clatters loudly against the brick wall behind him. His eyes widen for a split second before he turns back to you with an incredulous look.

"Are you serious right now?" He drags a hand down his face, visibly caught between disbelief and exasperation. "You’re acting like a damn toddler."

Behind you Jennie, who just wanted to check on her star designer freezes mid-step at the sight of your attack. She blinks once, taking in your disheveled state and Taehyung’s irritated glare before clearing her throat awkwardly.

"...Should I come back later?" she asks slowly, already backtracking toward the door with an uneasy smile.

Taehyung sighs heavily as he watches her retreat before pinning you with another sharp look, this time laced with clear warning: Stop embarrassing yourself.

You could mistake the look in his eye - almost like he's trying to protect you.

Taehyung watches the color drain from your face as the reality of your sudden outburst fully sinks in. Jennie. You'd just showed your ass in front of Jennie. Your own client and the reason you were even in that high-end venue to begin with. She just saw you drunkenly throw your shoe like a lunatic in the back alley.

He rubs a hand across his forehead and grimaces. This night has turned into a goddamn disaster.

Taehyung watches the conflicting emotions flicker across your face, the sheer absurdity of this entire situation weighing on you all at once. He’s half-expecting you to burst into tears again… or maybe throw your other shoe at his head.

He reaches down, picks up the discarded heel from where it had clattered to the ground moments ago, and holds it out to you with a dry look. "Here," he says flatly. "In case you feel like missing me again."

Somehow, after everything leading up until this point, that makes you laugh, you burst into a fit of tear-stricken laughter.

Taehyung stares at you for a long moment, unimpressed but unable to hide the slight tug at the corner of his mouth as you dissolve into drunken, tear-streaked laughter. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath:

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, enunciating every single syllable with sharp, deliberate emphasis.

But despite himself… he doesn't leave you there. Instead, he waits. Watching as your laughter eventually fades back into exhausted silence.

Somehow, this is just another night in the chaotic mess that is knowing you.

-

You're now in a taxi on the way back to your hotel.

You're tear-stricken, cheeks are flushed a rosy red and half your eyelashes have fallen off.

In a stark contrast, Taehyung is the very epitome of composed: sitting across from you, hands folded neatly on his lap.

He looks completely unfazed by everything that just happened… but you can see his jaw tense when his gaze flicks over the smudged makeup and tear-stains on your face.

It’s quiet, save for the city lights streaming past outside as the taxi weaves through late-night LA traffic. Neither of you say a word until Taehyung finally leans back and breaks the silence, watching as you pull your fake eyelashes off.

"What a mess." He teases

“Suck my dick.” you retort.

Taehyung snorts lightly at your words, unruffled as ever by how crude you can be. "Very mature," he deadpans, turning his head to look out the window again.

A beat of silence, and then: "You wish," he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

Oh?

“You couldn't handle it.”

Taehyung chuckles under his breath at your rebuttal, his lips turning up faintly—but he doesn't bother looking at you when he replies. As if he's trying to act nonchalant, like this conversation hasn't started to get to him a little.

"Sweetheart," he drawls, voice dripping with an arrogant edge. "I’d put you face down on your stomach and ruin you."

He sounds so unbelievably cocky, as if what he's saying is one hundred percent fact, and with that tone of voice? So deep and rich. You don't doubt it.

The drunken fog clears immediately.

LATCH - Part 3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment and Emotional Immaturity, Eventual Smut, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

A month before Taehyung found out the truth.

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a delicate pattern on the hardwood floor of the small apartment. You lay cocooned in the warmth of the sheets, like a toxic little caterpillar. The gentle hum of the city waking up outside barely reached your ears. Jungkook was beside you, his chest rising and falling peacefully, his dark hair tousled adorably as he turned over, unconsciously seeking the warmth of your body.

It was a rare Sunday morning, a moment stolen from your chaotic lives, just the two of you. The world felt muted, as if it were holding its breath, allowing the serenity of this moment to envelop you both. You blinked slowly, letting your eyes drift over Jungkook's features, memorizing every small detail. The way his lips quirked slightly in his sleep, the soft sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

You felt an ache in your heart, a bittersweet concoction of contentment and guilt. This was supposed to be Hana’s space. It was wrong, wasn’t it? The thought wormed its way into your mind, uninvited, telling you that you were being selfish, that you were the one who had unfairly inserted yourself into a life already tangled with another.

But then you shook it off. The warmth radiating from Jungkook’s body seeped into you, pulling you back into the comfort of the moment. He stirred slightly when you shifted, a tiny frown marring his features, and the instinct to brush your fingers through his hair overcame the pang of unease. So you did, running your fingers through the soft strands, and he sighed contentedly.

He stirred again, mumbling something unintelligible, and you couldn’t help but smile. Whatever he was dreaming about, it looked like it was bringing him peace, and at that moment, the rest of the world faded away.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Right here,” you replied softly.

One eye cracked open, sleepily assessing his surroundings before settling on you. “You’re awake?”

“Just barely. I figured I’d let you sleep in while I silently debated my life choices,” you said, attempting to keep the mood light.

He only smiled sleepily at that, a look so endearing it melted your guilt for a moment. “What choices are those?”

“Choosing to relax on a Sunday morning... in your bed,” you teased, though the truth was more complicated.

As he pulled you closer, wrapping you in an embrace that felt effortlessly right, your heart fluttered. The guilt scratched at the edges again, reminding you of the hurt that once lingered, but Jungkook’s warmth seemed to push it away, at least for now.

“Promise me you won’t leave?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep but genuine in its plea.

Without thinking, you nodded, your heart tightening just a little. “I promise,” you replied, surprised by the conviction in your voice.

“Come here,” he murmured, tugging at the blanket and inviting you closer.

—

These days, you wake up, your eyes fixtate on a corner of your room, and there’s this lingering weight pressing against your chest. You're constantly reminded of what you did, how you used your own body to get there, and the crushing realization that Jungkook knows. Not only does he know, but his best friend (your work rival) knows too.

He figured it out.

Because you know Taehyung always doubted you. He purposely sought to end you and take you out of the picture; out of the social circle and away from his friend.

Now that he knows, each subtle dig he throws at you feels like another knife to the chest.

“You know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You always need to win.” His tone is lighter now, less biting than before. “Even when nobody’s competing with you.”

Is this your reality now? To sit and listen to his little digs? Even if you knew you deserved it, it felt unfair.

Taehyung couldn’t even come close to understanding how you felt about Jungkook.

Jealousy had become something festering inside you.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Worse.

Quiet enough to sound reasonable in your own mind, enough to justify acting the way you did.

It started small. Every time Hana’s name came up when they first started dating after graduation, the slight tightening in your chest, the ugly twist in your stomach, the immediate need to know more. Had he talked to her recently? What kind of things would she say that made him laugh? Were there pieces of him you’d never be able to touch because they would always belong to her?

At first, you tried to fight it. You told yourself it wasn’t fair. Hana had history with him long before you did. Memories. Traditions. Entire versions of Jungkook you’d never know.

But jealousy was insidious. It rewrote things.

Soon, after the breakup you caused, every mention of her felt like a threat. Every old photo tucked away in a drawer felt deliberate. Every hesitation in Jungkook’s voice became proof that some part of him still lingered in the past.

And the worst part?

You knew you were becoming unfair.

You knew it every time relief bloomed in your chest at the thought of him pulling away from Hana. Every time possessiveness curled through you when he reached for your hand instead of thinking of hers. Every time you silently celebrated being the one beside him now.

It should’ve horrified you more than it did.

Instead, jealousy fed something selfish buried deep inside you, something desperate to be chosen completely.

So you stopped asking yourself whether this was fair.

You stopped wondering whether Hana deserved better, even when she landed the job at the design firm where you, Taehyung, and she all worked together. She sweet-talking the HR lady and giving you hints and tips for the interview process to help you land the best opportunity you could’ve come across after graduating.

You stopped caring about the lines you crossed just to stay close to him.

You stopped caring at all.

All that mattered to you was this:

When Jungkook reached for someone in the middle of the night, it was you.

And maybe that made you sick.

Maybe it made you cruel.

But you’d still do anything just to feel even a semblance of what it was like to be in his arms.

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you roll out of bed and get ready for work. Your head is heavy with thoughts, dread, and anxiety at the idea of facing the world knowing you were one of the bad guys.

—

“Did you hear what Y/N said to Taehyung this morning?” an intern named Liza asks her fellow intern, a boy named Hanseo.

“No. What did she say?” he replies, trying to pretend he cares. He was really just trying to figure out how to scale a design to stop it from printing pixelated.

“She called him inbred.” She pauses for dramatic effect.

Hanseo tried not to laugh. He really wants to laugh. It was so awful it was kind of funny.

“You don’t think that was bad?” Liza asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“No—no. It is funny. I mean—” His eyes widen at his own Freudian slip.

Great. Now Liza is going to cancel me too.

She shoots him a disapproving look.

Hanseo sighs and rubs his tired, student eyes.

“I just—I don’t care. I’m more interested in making sure I print this properly so she doesn’t call me inbred too,” Hanseo desperately tries to redeem himself.

Liza crosses her arms and shakes her head. She's now contemplating leaving the entire industry altogether.

Hanseo’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Look, everyone knows they fight like cat and mouse, but do you really think if they were having such a hard time they’d be around each other so much?”

“It’s called being trapped by your abuser,” Liza retorts.

Hanseo narrows his eyes as he looks at his peer. Is she dense, or is she on TikTok too much? Listening to all that crap about this being toxic and that being toxic?

“Taehyung can be pretty mean to her too, you know,” he says. He's not even sure why he was defending you. He doesn’t know you, not really. Neither does Liza, but it pisses him off that she acts like she does.

“He’s defending himself. He’s clearly the better designer. She tries so hard to bring him down,” Liza argues, and now Hanseo is certain she has a crush on Taehyung.

Figures.

“Taehyung’s always the first one to push her buttons, and they’re both great designers in their own ways.”

Before Liza could blow up, Yoongi walked into the office, eyebrows creased into his signature frown. He wasn’t even that grumpy, he’d just been told by his doctor that his blood pressure was too high for his age. Then he remembered he was turning fifty in a few months.

Still, everyone thought he was grumpy and looked down on them.

He loved the way the two interns straightened up and beamed at him the second they saw him. It made him feel all silly and powerful.

He walked to his office without a care in the world.

The real drama walked in a moment later.

Boy, do you look pissed. All leather boots and blow-dried layers.

“Hanjae. Have you finished with the banners? I need to go to the print room while it’s quiet,” you say, your voice stern and your eyes focused on him with your no-nonsense aura.

Hanseo falters a little, because one, you got his name wrong again (rude), and two, Liza had been talking his head off for the last half hour about meaningless crap, and right now, her theory was winning.

“I’m—I’m just doing that now,” he gulps.

You blinked at him. Your eye twitches.

“It takes two seconds. I told you last night.”

“I know! I know—I just—I don’t know how—”

“You don’t know how to scale a print?” Your eyebrows arched, all angry, all pretty and intimidating.

“No, I do—I can—I just, this system is new and the print facilities are different from the ones at university and—” he babbles.

You huff and turn his laptop around. You tap your nails against the keys, working your witchcraft.

“There. Simple. Done.” You pull out his memory stick with the file attached and walk away. You didn’t even talk him through it. He still doesn’t know how it's done.

Hanseo sits there, slumped and defeated.

Worst of all, he can practically sense Liza’s smug smile, her arms crossed, radiating I told you so.

—

Taehyung is lounging in the break room, vaping. Tiny, discreet little puffs here and there because he knows he's not supposed to be doing it indoors.

His eyebrows are creased as he scrolls through TikTok, video after video, absorbing the mindless brain rot. Then it hits him, he forgot to pay for his parking ticket a few days ago, which now meant he’d have to pay the full fine.

“Fuck’s sake.” He slams his fist down on the couch.

He wholeheartedly blames you for that. He was going to do it the night he was having drinks with Jungkook, but then the whole drama with you happened and he forgot.

Then he was going to do it the day after, but you interrupted him while it was fresh in his mind and asked him to do something or get something, and he forgot again.

He blames you for everything.

Taehyung glances around, making sure the coast is clear. Then he took a deep drag of his vape, cranes his head back toward the ceiling, and exhales.

Hanseo walks in at just the right moment to catch the stray clouds of vapor dispersing into nothing. He stands there, arms limp at his sides, lips forming a flat line at his senior.

Taehyung jumps at the sight of him and chokes. He sits up straight and clears his throat.

Hanseo narrows his eyes. Then he speaks.

“Y/N’s a bitch,” he blurts out. His shoulders slumped and he looks less tense now, just defeated.

Taehyung blinks, pleasantly surprised by the intern’s declaration, and almost proud.

Then he chuckles and shakes his head.

“What has she done now?”

“She’s so mean! She stares you down with this intense glare, with her cat eyes and eyeliner and insanely good-smelling perfume.”

Taehyung shrugged like he couldn’t argue with that. You did smell amazing all the time.

“And it’s not just a stare. It’s like I’m a bug and she’s scorching me with a magnifying glass. Why can’t she understand I want to learn too? I’m trying. I want to learn from her—she’s insanely talented—but she acts like she’s better than everyone and gatekeeps everything!”

Hanseo pauses to take a breath, running a hand through his hair.

Taehyung felt his heart tighten a little at the intern’s words. He remembers when Hanseo first joined as an intern, when he sat with Yoongi interviewing him. Hanseo had praised you and talked about how lucky he’d feel joining a company with talented designers.

“I know—” Taehyung sighs, then straightens up, about to give some meaningless advice.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Hanseo huffs, stepping forward. “What flavor is your vape?”

Taehyung blinks.

“It’s—it’s mango.”

“Can I have it?”

In that moment, Taehyung realized you’d gone so far as to break the innocent little intern.

—

He finds you on the ground floor by reception, talking to the building maintenance man. More than likely pestering him about the temperature in the office.

“No, I don’t want you to come to our floor with a thermometer. All I’m asking is for you to turn the heating up just a little higher.” Your arms are crossed, your eyebrows furrowed like a pissed-off cat.

The receptionist, a chubby, kind-looking man who looks like the reference for Peter Griffin, shared a knowing glance with Taehyung as he approached.

“Please kindly tell your girlfriend that she’s the only one who complains about the temperature.”

Taehyung grins ear to ear, seeing the way the receptionist’s words riled you up.

“Girlfriend. Stop pestering the poor guy, pretty please,” Taehyung says in a soft, condescending tone.

He can practically see the way your jaw locks in anger and your brain shuts down because otherwise you were about to drag him straight to hell with you. You close your eyes and count to ten.

Then Taehyung chuckles softly.

“I forgot why I came to find you,” he says with a huff as you're counting. He's squinting as he tries to think.

You shoot him a snarky, confused look. He such a certified imbecile in your books.

“Oh. Right, that’s it. You need to go apologize to Hanseo.”

“What the hell for?”

“You upset him earlier. You’re too hard on him. He really wants to learn from you, and you don’t even show him things properly. You don’t even speak to the interns unless it’s to demand things from them.”

You rub your tired eyes.

“I’m not a mentor—”

“I didn’t ask you to be a mentor, just don’t be so selfish,” he retorts, sharply.

Your shoulders slump. That does it. As if you weren’t already the number one villain in everyone’s lives right now, you’ve only gone and unintentionally upset the interns and now they hate you too.

Of course Taehyung was here to tell you this. It was always him.

You walk away.

You spend the rest of the day in silence.

You leave work at the end of the day in silence.

You chew gum on the train ride home to ease your nerves, only for your jaw to ache like a bitch by the time you spit it into the bin in your kitchen.

—

It’s Friday night. You can see your peers enjoying drinks on social media, and they’re probably happier and more carefree without you there anyway. They definitely look it. Of course Taehyung is in the background, always the life of the party. The interns are looking at him all doe eyed with admiration.

You get drunk at home. Really drunk.

On your third bottle of soju, you accidentally drop the bottle and it smashes on your kitchen floor.

Mid-cleanup, feeling like the worst, most pathetic existence in the world, a thought crosses your mind.

You need to apologize to Jungkook.

Properly.

Because you can’t fix your messes at work if you don’t start with the one big, gigantic mess that started the train wreck of all the others. You need to apologize to Jungkook to clear your conscience and stop feeling like you’re emitting evilness without meaning to.

So somehow, you decide tonight is the perfect night to show up at his apartment in an Uber. You’re so drunk you don’t even realize your knee is bleeding from kneeling on the kitchen floor while picking up shards of glass.

The doorbell rings, insistently.

Over and over, like a siren in the quiet hallway of Jungkook’s apartment building.

Inside, Hana jumps slightly at the sudden noise. She and Jungkook were sitting on the couch, watching a drama wrapped in blankets from earlier cuddles.

Jungkook frowns.

He didn’t expect anyone to come by, especially not you. Not after everything.

Hana looks at Jungkook, her expression softening with concern.

“Who is that?” she whispers, glancing toward the door.

Jungkook stands slowly, hesitant. The constant ringing felt urgent. Angry, even.

He walks to the peephole and peers through it.

And there you were—makeup smudged, hair out of place, eyes glassy and unfocused. Your phone dangles loosely in one hand.

His stomach drops.

The doorbell keeps blaring.

Jungkook’s heart pounds.

You look bad. Not just drunk, your face is puffy, your eyes red and wild, your grip loosening on your phone and it drops to the floor, proof you aren't in a good state at all.

Hana stood behind him now, peering over his shoulder through the peephole too. Her expression shifts from curiosity to worry, then sadness.

Because you were back.

Reacting in a way that scared even her slightly.

Jungkook opens the door.

Slowly. Carefully—like he was handling something fragile that might explode.

The second you set your sights on him, you don’t say anything at first. You just stare at him with those glassy eyes, heartbreak and alcohol swirling together in one messy gaze.

Behind Jungkook, Hana stands frozen in the living room doorway, unsure if she should step back or come closer.

You stop abusing the doorbell. You drop your hand and sniffle, wiping your eyes casually like you're not acting like a silent lunatic.

“Hey,” you slur.

Jungkook’s breath caught.

You said “Hey.”

He saw it—the pain, the effort you were making just to stand there and say something normal when everything inside you was clearly breaking. Like you weren't just abusing his doorbell like a storm.

Your voice is soft, slurred from alcohol, but your eyes are destroyed. Red, swollen, full of everything unsaid between the two of you since Hana came back.

He doesn't move right away. He just stands there in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, stunned by your presence. His eyes dart down and settle on the small cut on your knee, the smudged trickle of blood down your shin.

Jungkook’s expression cracks.

Watching your shaky breath, like you're fighting not to cry in front of him, hits him harder than any yelling or slamming door could have.

Behind him, Hana quietly steps back, giving space. This wasn’t her moment anymore. This was between you and Jungkook.

The second you saw Hana. Really saw her, not just a blur but the woman who had taken Jungkook back, the emotion twists in your stomach. A mixture of envy, shame, and embarrassment. The feeling is so sharp, you start to feel it physically.

And then it happens.

Without warning, without time to step aside or cover your mouth, you throw up.

Right on Jungkook’s chest. On his hoodie. On the floor at his feet.

It's sudden and messy, alcohol and half-digested food from earlier mixing together in a horrible display of heartbreak and drunk shame.

Jungkook froze.

For a solid two seconds, he doesn't react. He just stands there, wide-eyed, feeling the warm mess hit his chest and drip onto his hoodie.

The smell of soju mixed with vomit filled the tiny space near the doorway.

Hana gasps quietly from behind him, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. She instinctively takes another step back.

Jungkook finally snaps out of it, but instead of yelling or pushing you away, his first instinct is to gently grab your arm and steady you as your legs wobble from alcohol and stress.

You lean against the doorframe, blinking a few times as if trying to process what you’ve just done.

You’ve really lost the plot now.

You run a hand through your hair and let out a defeated laugh. You shake your head at the absurdity of your own existence. You can't even apologize in a way that would leave you with the slightest bit of dignity.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, defeat in your tone as you turn to walk away. You don't even know what you are apologizing for anymore. The vomit? The lies and manipulation? Loving him so much it cost everything and hurt Hana, who you’ve finally accepted is innocent in all this?

Jungkook watches as you turn.

That quiet “I’m sorry,” so small and broken, cut through him worse than any scream or argument ever could.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn' try to stop you from leaving. He just stands there, hoodie ruined, heart heavier than it had been all day.

Hana quietly grabs a towel from the bathroom and hands it to him without speaking. Her eyes are sad, not angry at you, honestly at this point she doesn't know what to feel anymore.

You take one shaky step back and leave.

Hana was talking, maybe saying something like, “Are you okay?” or “She looked out of it,” or “I’m going to get a mop—”

Jungkook is too busy processing his thoughts.

Then he finally moves.

He hands the towel back to Hana and mutters a quiet, “Wait here, sweetheart.”

Then he grabs his keys and rushes out barefoot, not caring about the mess on his hoodie or the heavy rain pouring outside.

Within seconds, he's chasing after you, the cold pavement soaking through his socks instantly.

Jungkook caught up fast.

He sprints and grabs your arm gently but firmly.

“Hey,” he says. His voice isn't angry. It's soft. Concerned.

You turn to look at him, and for a second you just stare. Your face pale under the streetlights.

Rain pours down on both of you as Jungkook studies your face. The girl who loved him too hard, destroyed herself over it, and showed up drunk and vomiting at his door like a tragedy unfolding in real time.

Jungkook doesn't say anything for a long moment.

He just looks at you. Really looks at you. At the wreckage of your night: soaked clothes, tear-streaked face. He picked up your phone on the way out because you forgot you dropped it.

Then, without warning, he pulls you into a hug.

Not romantic. Not passionate. Just tight and protective, like someone trying to hold together broken pieces.

His arms wrap around you, warm despite the cold rain. One hand presses gently against the back of your head as he tucks it beneath his chin.

You sniffle and let him hug you for what feels like forever. Then you pull away with a drunken scowl.

“You came all the way here to smother me in my own vomit?” you slur sassily.

Jungkook doesn't flinch at your attitude.

He almost smiles, because yeah, this is so you. Even half-dead from heartbreak and alcohol, you still have an attitude.

But the moment passes quickly.

“No,” he says quietly, his voice low over the sound of the rain. “I came because I saw you walking away looking like a ghost.”

You scoff.

“I can’t believe you.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens.

That scoff, the disbelief in your voice, told him everything before you even said the words.

“When you act like this, you make it difficult for someone not to become painfully obsessed with you.”

Jungkook actually chuckles, a soft, sad sound, because yeah. That was true.

He’s always been kind, gentle… too good for his own damn self sometimes. The kind of guy who apologized when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

And now? Here you were. Drunk, heartbroken, throwing up on him and instead of pushing you away or getting angry, he hugs you.

“Sorry,” he murmurs with a small smile, like a child being scolded for being too cute. “I can’t help it.”

“I know. I know you can’t. That’s what I loved about you the most.” You stumble back and wipe your tears. “I hate that I can’t have you. That I’ll never find anyone like you. It feels overbearing, like there’s this whole whale in my stomach that I want to throw up, but I can’t.”

Jungkook’s heart aches.

Your words are so raw, so honest. It lands like punches.

He doesn't say, “We can fix this,” or “Give it time.”

Because he knows the two of you are over. Hana is his girlfriend again. This wasn’t a breakup where things could be patched up after a fight.

It was done.

It all feels so fucking bittersweet because he’d experienced first hand just how much love you really had in you to give. But it shouldn’t have happened the way it did. What you did was wrong.

Jungkook reaches out slowly and cups your face with both hands.

Rain drips from his hair down his cheeks, mixing with the tears on yours.

He doesn't kiss you. Doesn't try to fix it or make promises he can't keep.

But for that one quiet moment, he just holds your face gently, the way someone would hold something precious before letting it go forever.

Then, softly, he kisses your forehead.

LATCH - Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment and Emotional Immaturity, Eventual Smut, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Taehyung sat in the glow of his dual monitors, one foot tucked beneath his chair as the office around him hummed with the low drone of printers and distant conversation. His desk was a controlled mess, with colour swatches fanned beside a half-finished iced coffee, sketchbooks stacked unevenly beneath sticky notes covered in hurried ideas.

He dragged a hand through his dark hair, eyes narrowed at the logo stretched across his screen. Something about the spacing felt wrong. Too crowded. Too desperate. With a quiet sigh, he leaned back, rolling his chair away from the desk just enough to stare at the ceiling tiles above him.

At twenty-six, Taehyung had imagined creative work would feel louder somehow. Like dramatic bursts of inspiration, applause-worthy concepts scribbled onto napkins. Instead, most days looked like this: fluorescent lights, aching shoulders, and the obsessive adjustment of tiny details nobody else would notice.

And then you walked in.

Flawless. Radiant. Like a K-drama heroine stepping onto a runway: high-waisted pants with sharp pleats, a silk blouse tied at the waist, golden hoops that caught the light just right. Your skin glowed like you’d spent hours on skincare (you probably had). Not a single trace of tears was visible, not even puffy eyes or exhaustion. You're so dedicated to doing well at work it’s almost scary. No one would’ve guessed you sobbed into your pillow for two hours after storming out of that sidewalk confrontation last night.

Taehyung noticed you first, mid-sip of his black coffee the moment he saw your silhouette walk in.

He froze for half a second, then deliberately looked away, pretending to focus on the design mockups on his screen. But his jaw tightened slightly.

Of course she looks perfect. Like nothing happened. Like she didn’t lie about being pregnant yesterday just to get Jungkook’s attention. Like her heart isn’t in shambles over him ignoring her.

Across the office, Hana (the real victim here) was quietly organizing files at reception. She’d been back a month since Taehyung told her what really happened with the fake video and your scheme.

And now? Now you were strolling in like nothing was wrong.

Binders in hand, you head to the presentation room, because you always go first when there is a client presentation. Why? You like to set expectations so high that whatever idea comes after yours seems inferior.

The project is to design album and merch graphics for a major singer: Jennie. The upcoming album is titled Soeul City.

In his office, Yoongi, your manager is a man in his late forties. He’s a little cranky at times but tolerates pretty much everyone (though he can’t help but have a professional soft spot for you). He watches you set up your presentation half an hour before the client arrives. You dedicate everything to your work, and he sees that, despite how questionable he thinks your personal life choices are.

Taehyung follows you to the presentation room, taking his usual seat in the back. He watches as you confidently stride to the front of the room, radiating your usual air of arrogant confidence.

Typical, he thinks to himself.

He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, ready to watch your predictable show as you go first like you always do.

Jennie enters the room, her gaze fixed on the screen where your presentation is displayed. She's already familiar with your work and expects nothing short of perfection. That's why the company hired the best.

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at the sight of your confident grin, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He can practically hear your smug “I’m-better-than-everyone” attitude radiating off you. He looks over at Yoongi to see his reaction to the start of your presentation.

Once Jennie is seated, coffee is passed around, and the small talk is over. You begin.

“Your middle name is Ruby, if I’m not mistaken?” you start the presentation by asking Jennie the simple question. Your voice is confident and authoritative.

Jennie’s lips quirk up slightly at the question, amused, maybe even a little impressed that you’d remember something so niche about her. Most designers she'd met are so structured these days that she can’t remember the last time a stranger asked or knew something that felt so personal to her.

"That's right," she says, crossing her arms as she tilts her head at you. "Someone did their homework."

Taehyung scoffs softly under his breath from the back of the room. Great, she's flirting with the client now too. He taps his fingers impatiently against his armrest, waiting for your actual pitch instead of this performative charm act.

Meanwhile, Yoongi rubs his temples like he’s already exhausted by whatever theatrics are about to unfold between you two again.

“I hope you forgive my brazen approach, but along with creating your album art, I centered it around a different album title: Ruby,” you say, displaying the mockups of the album covers you've put together.

“Don’t get me wrong—the title you chose, Seoul City, is catchy and… safe. But I’ll explain why I feel like your middle name is a better fit,” you continue.

Jennie’s eyes widen slightly, intrigued despite herself as she studies your mockups, leaning forward in her seat. She hates when people challenge her creative decisions… but this? This has her attention.

Taehyung stiffens in his chair, his grip tightening on his own portfolio. "Oh, come on," he mutters under his breath, because of course you'd pull something like this. Not just presenting your vision, but outright rewriting Jennie's entire concept like you know better than the artist herself.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose like he's debating firing everyone on the spot just to end this chaos early.

Jennie tilts her head after a beat, arms crossed, giving you an assessing look, half impressed, half irritated by your audacity before finally speaking:

"...Go on then. Explain."

“This is the first time you’re branching away from your group and going solo. I specifically picked Ruby to stake a claim on your personal identity. To present yourself as a ‘whole person.’”

You flick to the finished album pieces, showing a series of bold red visuals set against a black background.

“Rich with symbolism, theatrical drama, and identity-driven narrative… the cover art shows you pulling back or opening a red curtain. This alludes to the idea of a stage, performance, and dramatic reveal: introducing your solo identity.”

Jennie's gaze lingers on the screen, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she finally hums, low and thoughtful.

"Interesting," she admits, tapping a manicured nail against her arm. "I do like the symbolism."

Taehyung grits his teeth from his seat, watching as Jennie actually entertains your over-the-top reimagining of her vision.

Yoongi exhales heavily through his nose but stays silent, letting Jennie react first before stepping in to mediate whatever trainwreck is about to unfold next between you two.

“In marketing material, the ‘red curtain’ motif acts as a symbol of entering a new act, a new era. One that’s bold, theatrical, and intentional. The dominant visual palette is black, deep red, and muted tones. Red, in particular, isn’t just aesthetic, it’s tied to Ruby: passion, intensity, revelation,” you explain without missing a beat.

Jennie leans forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studies your mockups. Her expression shifts from skeptical to genuinely intrigued.

"Hm. Bold move to try and rewrite my entire concept," she muses, her voice low but laced with something almost impressed. "But I can’t lie, it’s a strong angle."

Taehyung's jaw tightens. He knows that tone. Jennie isn’t just humoring you, she’s actually considering it. His fingers twitch against his own designs, frustration simmering under his skin because of course you'd somehow manage to bulldoze over everyone else's ideas again.

Yoongi finally sighs and speaks up before this escalates further. He can see Taehyung is itching to make a comment.

"We'll discuss all pitches after the presentations are done. Sit down." His tone leaves no room for argument.

Even for you.

Taehyung rolls his eyes at your little “I-got-my-way-like-always” smile, watching you walk back to your seat with an air of victory. He can practically feel his blood pressure rising just looking at you.

One by one, the rest of the group presentations begin, but nothing comes close to the drama your proposal brought. Taehyung's jaw clenches as presentation after presentation fails to impress Jennie as much as yours did.

Finally, it's his turn. Taehyung stands up stiffly before walking to the front of the room. His eyes flicker.

You suppress a small smirk. Why? He looks nervous. It’s almost cute. You raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

Taehyung can feel your gaze boring into the back of his head as he walks to the front. He tries to ignore the wave of annoyance your smirk brings out in him.

He exhales through his nose, and it's taking every ounce of his willpower to keep from snapping at you before he even starts presenting.

Instead, he clears his throat before launching into his proposal, skipping the pleasantries altogether and going straight into his pitch.

He clicks to his first slide, a sleek, minimalist design with a bold, modern twist. The album title "SEOUL CITY" is rendered in sharp, neon-lit typography, evoking the pulse of urban nightlife.

"Jennie-ssi, your roots are here. This city made you." His voice drops, low and magnetic. "But instead of running from that, why not own it? Make it yours."

The next slide flips to a striking image of Jennie against a graffiti-covered alleyway, her gaze defiant, the glow of city lights casting her in an almost cinematic glow.

"This isn’t about reinvention. It’s about dominance. You’re not leaving Blackpink. You’re expanding it. Showing them what you built from it."

The room is silent for a beat, then murmurs of approval ripple through the clients. He flicks through each slide, each graphic showcasing his natural talent. Out of about 101 things you already hate about him, the main one is how easily he breezes through each design. He doesn't stress nearly half as much as you do and produces high quality work.

Taehyung’s smirk deepens as he glances at you after finishing his last slide. The looks back over at Jennie.

"But hey, what do I know? I thought I was following a client brief like a good designer. Maybe I should have renamed your album too. Or even re-wrote a few of your lyrics, all the things outside my payroll.’" He can't help but throw that cheeky comment in the end.

The room goes dead silent for half a second before Yoongi drops his head into his hands with an audible groan. Even Jennie snorts into her palm, trying not to laugh outright at Taehyung's shamelessly petty dig aimed directly at you.

You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“A good designer follows the concept. A great designer pushes the concept and sees the potential for something better. Maybe if you were actually a fan of Jennie, you’d branch beyond the initial idea,” you sass.

Taehyung’s smirk only widens as you take the bait, visibly riled up by his jab. He folds his arms, leaning casually against the presentation table like he’s enjoying this way too much.

"A great designer doesn’t steamroll over their client’s vision just to stroke their own ego," he fires back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But hey, keep telling yourself that rewriting Jennie's entire concept makes you some kind of genius."

Yoongi sighs loudly from the corner of the room. "Are we done measuring dicks, or can we actually decide on a design?"

Jennie, meanwhile, watches this unfold with amused detachment, her chin resting in her hand like she's thoroughly entertained by your petty rivalry.

"Honestly," she muses dryly, nodding first at Taehyung's mockups, then at yours, "... I like both angles."

Taehyung's smirk softens into something more satisfied as Jennie acknowledges his work, but he can't resist shooting you a told-you-so glance. Subtle, just for you to catch.

Yoongi finally cuts in before this escalates further.

"Alright, all of you get out." He motions to the door with a tired wave of his hand. "Jennie and I will discuss the final direction alone."

As Taehyung gathers his things, he brushes past you with deliberate closeness, lowering his voice just enough so only you can hear.

"Try not to cry when they pick mine over yours," he whispers mockingly before sauntering out like he owns the place.

You scoff and cross your arms, standing outside in the hallway. The other designers have gone back to their desks.

“You’re so predictable it’s annoying. If someone told you to come up with a concept yourself, you’d be sweating like a dog. Admit it. My idea tied her whole album together perfectly. It makes perfect sense.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest as you go on with your arrogant spiel. He lets you talk without interruption, mostly because he enjoys watching you work so hard to get under his skin, just to give him another chance to one-up you.

"'Tied her whole album together perfectly.' You're so full of it, you know that?" he mocks with a scoff. "Your ‘great idea’ was too brazen, princess. Jennie's going with mine."

“No, she’s not, she’s going with mine,” you retort.

They can definitely hear both of you through the walls.

Taehyung lets out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back against the wall as he stares at the ceiling like he's praying for patience.

"Oh my god, do you ever shut up?" He turns to look at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "At this point, I think you just enjoy hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, arms crossed, waiting for them to make a decision. Your heels tap against the floor with anticipation.

Taehyung stands beside you, arms folded, his expression schooled into a casual, unimpressed mask as you wait for the decision. He notices the impatient rhythm of your heels, trying his best to keep his tone neutral and not give you the satisfaction of knowing he's just as eager for the verdict as you are.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, revealing Yoongi and Jennie standing side by side. Yoongi has a hand pressed to his temples, looking like he's aged ten years just trying to manage this whole presentation drama.

Jennie, meanwhile, is clearly holding back a smirk.

Taehyung instantly straightens, his arms dropping to his sides as he fixes his gaze on Jennie. You can practically see the anticipation radiating off him.

Yoongi clears his throat before speaking, his voice exasperated.

"Alright, listen up. First off, both designs are solid, and Jennie appreciates the vision and execution behind both of them."

Taehyung lets out a pleased hum, already mentally preparing his victory speech. Yoongi holds up a hand to silence him.

"However..."

Taehyung tenses up at the word however, already fearing the worst. His cocky confidence falters momentarily before he steels himself for the verdict. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge your reaction.

“I’ve decided to go with Y/N’s idea. It was a bold move changing up my concept, but I appreciate the personal touch, and my team is impressed with how you harmonized the album perfectly,” Jennie says.

You almost explode with excitement, but keep your expression neutral, offering only a polite smile and nod of gratitude.

Taehyung grits his teeth in frustration as Jennie announces the decision. He can't believe you got the winning design over all the others.

He clenches his fists at his sides at the sight of your calm, collected expression, knowing full well how smug and self-satisfied you feel inside.

His frustration is replaced by surprise as Jennie turns to him.

“Don’t get me wrong, this was a tough decision, but I’ve also decided to recruit you for something different,” she says to Taehyung.

"Something... different?" he repeats.

Taehyung's initial reaction to Jennie's words is suspicious- what could this “something different” be? Some kind of consolation prize? He raises a brow, waiting for her to elaborate.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" he asks cautiously.

“I’m launching a new clothing brand, and I’ve seen your portfolio of work for logos and prints. It’s impressive, and I can see your talent shines there,” she explains.

Taehyung’s irritation immediately evaporates, replaced by a sharp, pleased grin as Jennie elaborates.

"Now that sounds like my kind of project," he drawls, shooting you a deliberately cocky side glance just to watch your victorious moment sour slightly. "Logos and branding? Easy."

Yoongi finally exhales in relief, rubbing his temples one last time before muttering under his breath:

"Thank god they both got something. Maybe they'll finally shut up."

-

Later that evening, you’re all at a bar just across from the company building- a place all of you frequent.

Taehyung leans against the bar, sipping his drink with a satisfied smirk as he watches you from across the room. The alcohol has dulled the sting of losing to you earlier, mostly because his win, Jennie’s offer, was just as big, if not bigger.

He tilts his glass toward you in a mock toast when he catches your eye.

"Congrats on the album cover," he calls over, his voice laced with playful condescension. "Guess we both got what we wanted... for once."

His grin sharpens, knowing full well how much it must annoy you that he landed something just as good instead of sulking in defeat like you probably hoped.

“Thank you. As much as I would have loved seeing you sulking like the sore loser you are, congratulations on securing that clothing merch deal,” you say, rolling your eyes. This is as professional as the two of you will ever get.

Taehyung chuckles under his breath at your attempt at graciousness. He knows it took every ounce of willpower to say that without throwing in at least one insult.

"You know, some people might mistake that for genuine well-wishing," he teases, taking a step closer and propping an elbow on the bar. He raises his glass again, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"But I know you better."

“I don’t wish anything for you. Your existence is a thorn in my side. I tolerate you at most,” you deadpan.

Yoongi walks up to the two of you with a couple of potential clients. Who definitely heard the last thing you said.

“These two are my top designers,” he introduces proudly and scratches the back of his head in a way any manager would do as they silently contemplate whether any other workplace manager has to deal with their two favourite colleagues verbally assaulting each other at any given opportunity.

Taehyung nearly chokes on his drink at your deadpan response, coughing once into his fist before barking out a laugh.

“That’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.”

You shoot him a withering look, but before you can retaliate, Yoongi cuts in with the exhausted patience of a man who has dealt with this exact dynamic far too many times.

“It's like being in a playground.” he says dryly, “Yet they still produce the best work in the company.”

The clients laugh awkwardly, unsure whether the tension between you is office banter or the prelude to an HR incident.

Taehyung flashes them an easy smile anyway, polished and charming in a way that’s annoyingly effective. “We’re professionals,” he says smoothly.

“You called my work pretentious in front of an international celebrity six hours ago,” you remind him flatly.

“And you implied I lacked creative depth.”

“Because you do.”

The clients glance between the two of you like they’re watching a tennis match.

Yoongi drains half his drink in one go.

Taehyung clicks his tongue, leaning slightly closer to you. “You know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You always need to win.” His tone is lighter now, less biting than before. “Even when nobody’s competing with you.” he says the last comment smooth as silk, patronising, and definitely a dig at the whole mess you created with Jungkook and Hana. Now the air feels unfairly cold.

Your expression flickers for the briefest second before smoothing over again.

Neither of you speaks.

LATCH - Part 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Humour, Toxic attachment and Emotional Immaturity, Eventual Smut, Y/N's toxic for once.

Summary: Jungkook is devastated after discovering that his relationship with Y/N was built on lies.

After a breakup with his longtime girlfriend Hana, Jungkook falls into the arms of the one person who always seemed to understand him: you. Loyal, brilliant, dangerously devoted—you become his comfort in the aftermath of heartbreak. But six months later, the truth surfaces, and everything he believed about love collapses.

Because Hana never cheated.

His best friend Taehyung found that the evidence was fake.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Jungkook is distraught to say the least.

Rainwater slid down the plastic walls of the pojangmacha where he was sitting on a sad and worn-out plastic chair. Red signs buzzed overhead in crooked hangul, their reflections trembling in puddles beside cigarette butts and crushed beer cans. Somewhere further down the street, a scooter rattled past, a delivery box strapped on the back with fraying rope, while an old woman shouted over the hiss of frying oil.

Taehyung exhales smoke slowly, eyes tired and distant. He stares at Jungkook, the guy who used to light up every room with his stupidly bright, innocent smile is now slumped like a deflated balloon.

He crushes the cigarette into the ashtray, then leans forward, elbows on knees.

"Jungkook-ah…" His voice is softer than usual. Not angry. Just worn. "You really think she was amazing? Like… genuinely?"

He doesn’t say it with judgment, just curiosity laced with something heavier. Because Taehyung knows you. How you flick your hair and patronise him in meetings, how you like to steal his redbull from the pack he keeps in the office fridge when he isn’t there… and yeah okay fine maybe once or twice he thought about you differently before all this mess blew up. Because one thing a well-rounded graphic designer like him respects is another talented designer who does her job well. You're gorgeous too, though he'd prefer to throttle you if it were socially acceptable.

Right now? His best friend is drowning in love for someone who played him like a damn fiddle, and Taehyung hates that more than anything else today.

Jungkook sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed from crying too much.

"Yeah," he mumbled, voice thick. "She was… perfect. We communicated well, she would make lunch for me for work all the time, she was affectionate as hell ."

A weak smile tugged at his lips—but it died fast.

"And then I found out it was all fake." He grabbed another shot glass but didn’t drink yet just held it like a lifeline.

Taehyung watched him quietly. The pain in Jungkook’s face wasn’t just heartbreak, it was betrayal on a level that hurt to witness.

He reached over and gently took the soju bottle away before Jungkook could pour more.

He takes another deep drag of his cigarette and looks at Jungkook with squinted eyes, wondering when he'll get over what happened and move on with his life- maybe even reconcile with Hana.

"You're being pathetic, you have too much empathy for the wrong people."

He says smoothly, words only a long-term close friend can say to another.

Back in university, you had met Jungkook through Hana, one thing you were is consistent and your petty hatred towards Hana was present even in the early days. Hana was on the same design course as you. A petite girl who was kind but patronising in the most infuriating way. You didn't necessarily like her designs, you thought they lacked any grit or depth and found her agonisingly boring. She came to university in her car her father paid for, and had a job aligned straight after university with no sweat.

Nothing pissed you off more than someone who lived comfortably, who didn't self-criticise herself. Who handed in the most basic of work and didn't bat an eyelash or show shame even when the lecturer was teasing her in front of her peers during a presentation.

Nothing bothered her, so it bothered you.

Jungkook was always supposed to be yours. He understood you the most. He saw through you the best. He didn't think you were a bitch. He always praised your work and stood up for you. He was a good friend, but it wasn't enough. Most of all, he was kindest man you've ever met, who still carried himself with confidence.

You wanted him. You developed a love for him that ached like nothing else.

So when he started dating Hana after university? It felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

After six months of them dating and going steady, Hana decides to up and leave to America on a work opportunity which (surprise, surprise) her father connected her to.

So with her away, you set up an elaborate lie to make Hana look like a cheat by paying someone to render an AI video of her kissing someone in a bar. It was simple, you scrolled through her instagram and found the first male platonic friend she made and sent the accounts to your dodgy friend from university- a guy named Seojun to create the videos for you.

Not only was this considered illegal, since AI started to develop further and everyone saw the negative connotations behind it, (they dumped it in the same category as the dark web), what you did was manipulative and cunning. You set the trap and slipped in at the perfect opportunity to seal their breakup. You even wrote out the break-up text yourself with your manicured fingers whilst Jungkook cried into his hands and hadn't fully processed what he saw. You sent it without a care and even blocked her number for him.

Jungkook was heartbroken, but he was finally yours. Your relationship with him lasted a good six months before Taehyung realised what you did. He knew the guy you paid to render the AI video, and worst of all, he knows you slept with him as part of the payment. Just to add a new level of depth to your unhinged existence.

Now, Jungkook is on his fourth shot of soju, topokki on the table has gone cold. The plastic chairs look just about as sad as him as he glances at his best friend, feeling completely sorry for himself.

Taehyung takes a deep drag of his cigarette. With three design projects to hand in by the end of the month, a parking ticket to pay and a persistent headache from the nicotine influx, he really couldn’t tolerate the mess you made of this situation. He already hates you and thinks you're a hellraiser. Though he is happy that everyone has finally seen through you.

The click of your heels cut through the quiet night like a knife.

Jungkook froze—glass halfway to his lips. His breath hitched, eyes snapping up to you like he’d seen a ghost. A beautiful, cruel ghost.

Taehyung? He didn’t move at first. Just slowly turned his head toward you, cigarette forgotten between two fingers, gaze darkening with instant dislike.

You looked immaculate—fashion magazine level perfect—and Taehyung hated that about you most: how effortlessly untouchable you seemed while everyone else was drowning in your mess.

Without even acknowledging Taehyung’s presence (rude), you spoke directly to Jungkook with that soft frown, the one that probably used to melt him on sight.

“Still not talking to me?” you say.

Jungkook said nothing. Just stared. Jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked steel. His knuckles turned white around the shot glass.

He didn’t answer you. Not a word. Just stared, those big, wounded puppy eyes locked onto your face like he was searching for something: regret? A lie? Proof that you ever had morals?

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Taehyung finally broke it with a quiet scoff, low enough that only Jungkook might’ve heard it if he’d been paying attention.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other like this whole scene was giving him a migraine. Which it kind of was. Drama on a sidewalk at 10 PM over heartbreak and cheap soju.

But then, Jungkook slowly set the glass down without drinking from it. Still not speaking to you.

“Kook- come on. Please.” you say, your foot stomping on the ground.

The stomp was tiny—barely a thud, more like a dramatic pause in your perfectly curated performance.

But it said everything.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to your foot. Then back up to your face. And for the first time since you arrived… something shifted in his expression.

Not forgiveness. Not softness.

Irritation.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, like he couldn’t believe you were really doing this right now, stomping like a spoiled kid who didn’t get her way with dessert at dinner.

Taehyung? Oh, Taehyung saw it too and internally winced because damn, that move was childish as hell coming from someone dressed like she walked out of Vogue Korea's fall campaign.

Jungkook finally spoke, his voice quiet, but sharp. Like glass breaking.

"...You're stomping?"

He said it like really? That's your move right now?

No "I'm sorry." No explanation. Just a little foot tantrum because he won’t talk to you after you destroyed his trust with lies and fake AI videos.

Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting, because honestly? He almost wanted to laugh. It was so absurdly out of place: this glamorous woman in designer boots throwing a tiny fit on the sidewalk over her ex not responding.

But Jungkook wasn't laughing.

“Jungkook you can’t ignore me forever.” you say, all attitude and sass and impatience.

Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched.

Oh, she’s really going to sass him right now?

Jungkook blinked once. Slowly. Like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

Then his face did something complicated: sadness mixed with disbelief, then a flash of anger that burned hotter than the soju in his stomach.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t slam anything down.

But he turned fully away from you with shoulders stiffening as if physically shielding himself and grabbed the bottle of soju Taehyung had taken earlier. He poured another shot for himself.

You roll your eyes at his petty display.

“I’m pregnant.” you blurt out.

The world stopped.

Jungkook’s hand froze mid-pour, soju spilling over the rim of the glass and splattering onto the table.

Taehyung’s breath caught—eyes snapping to you like a lightning strike. His cigarette slipped from his fingers and fell into his lap, unnoticed.

Silence.

Thick.

Suffocating silence.

Jungkook slowly turned back around. Not fast, painfully slow, as if afraid that any sudden movement would shatter reality itself.

His face was gone. Every trace of sadness or anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by pure shock.

He stared at you with wide eyes. The same eyes that had cried themselves dry just ten minutes ago.

You back track immediately.

“Okay that was a lie.” you say shamelessly.

Oof.

The air didn’t just turn cold.

It shattered.

Jungkook’s face (that was already pale from shock mind you) went completely blank. Like someone had unplugged his soul.

For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at you with the hollow look of a man who’d been emotionally whiplashed into another dimension.

Taehyung? Oh, Taehyung was livid.

He stood up so fast his chair screeched against the pavement. The cigarette packet in his pocket fell out and clattered to the ground, but neither of you noticed because everyone was focused on Jungkook's slow, terrifying collapse.

And then…

Jungkook quietly picked up his shot glass and drank it.

“I’m sorry I just- I don’t know how else to get your attention so you’ll talk to me” you say.

Taheyungs glare could’ve burned a hole through steel.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. The look on his face? Pure, unfiltered disgust. Like you’d just kicked a puppy in front of him for fun.

And then you had the nerve to say to Jungkook that—I don’t know how else to get your attention—like lying about being pregnant was some kind of romantic strategy and not emotional warfare.

Jungkook finally lowered the glass. His hands weren't shaking anymore. They were eerily still. Calm before something worse.

He looked at you.

Really looked at you.

Like he was seeing every lie, every manipulation, all over again in one glance.

You take a deep breath and rub your temple with your manicured finger- a telltale sign. Taehyung noticed it. That little self-soothing gesture only people like you do when they know they’ve screwed up beyond repair and refuse to face the consequences head-on.

Jungkook saw it too.

And for a second, his expression softened, not with forgiveness, but with something worse: pity. Like he was looking at someone who didn’t even realize how deeply she’d broken him… and everyone around her.

He opened his mouth, maybe to say something kind? Maybe to finally speak after weeks of silence?

But then Taehyung stepped forward.

He stepped between you and Jungkook without saying a word. Not aggressively. Just… deliberately. A human wall in black jeans and an oversized hoodie.

His eyes stayed locked on yours—cold, judgmental. The same look he gave incompetent coworkers or clients who wasted his time.

"Leave." He says. To the point, firm and fed up.

Jungkook didn’t protest his words. In fact, he sank slightly lower in his chair, like part of him was relieved someone finally stepped in to stop this mess from getting worse.

You turn and walk away when the silence becomes unbearable and you start to worry that everyone will see you falter and splutter, like the thought humiliates you more than everything you've done and said up until this point. Even the ahjumma working behind the hot stove is staring with her beady little eyes, her nosy judgment cutting through with her blunt knife.

Taehyung watched you turn and walk away, with the click of your heels fading into the night.

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, but only because you were gone. Not because things were okay.

Jungkook exhaled. Long and shaky, and finally slumped back like a wet mop. The encounter had drained the life out of him completely.

And Taehyung? He knew exactly what that walk meant: War.

You weren’t just leaving quietly. You were storming off to plot revenge at work in the form of: passive-aggressive emails, cold stares during meetings, maybe even "accidentally" delaying projects he needed approved…

He sighed through his nose, and exhales a deep breath he felt like he was holding the entire time.