#bangtanfics

SUMMARY : with trembling fingers, I reach for him, the weight of my arm too heavy, yet I manage to cup his cheek. his skin is scorching hot against my cold, clammy one, and I feel him still at my touch, every muscle taut, every heartbeat racing. “are you real?” I whisper, breath quivering. “am I dying?” I cry, my face scrunching as I pant. “or… are you just in my head again, the way you always are?” he shakes his head slightly, pressing me closer, tighter, murmuring low, though I could detect the slight tremble in his voice.. “no. I’m here. you’re here. I’ve got you.”

GENRE : childhood acquaintances to lovers, angst, smut, invisible red string theory, mutual pining, age gap.

PAIRING : jungkook x fem. oc

WARNING : loads of miscommunication and misunderstanding, heavy tension, angst, REAL YEARNING STARTS FROM HERE 😫, like it’s silent yearning in the most torturous way and its so bad it makes you wanna punch a damn wall, heavy on mutual pining, jeon jungkook please wake tf up 🤚🏽 domestic violence and toxic relationship dynamic, bleeding, messy breakup, self deprecating behaviour, masturbation (fem.), sexual fantasy, breast and nipple stimulation, oral sexual imagining, grinding against imagined partner, climax/orgasm, vague details on sex, i need these two to makeout asap like its a need atp!

RATING : 18+ MINORS DNI.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ next chapter. ୭ ᵎᵎ ༉‧₊˚.

This was ridiculous.

Beyond ridiculous.

My eyes widened before I could stop myself; while my mother launched herself at his, the two of us were locked in a quiet moment or rather a staring contest, silently taking each other in. It's been what? One year and seven months since I've heard his velvety voice telling me how proud I make him, the same voice that had become my solace, the voice I would rely on when the pressure from the world became unbearable, and at times when consoling words weren't sufficient, he was there, his mere presence grounding the mayhem going through my soul.

Three years since I've seen him close enough to go over the shapes and lines of his face, to see his face morphing into recognition as he looked at me.

Jeon Jungkook was a sight for sore eyes.

The grey shirt clung to the faint rhythm of his breathing, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal ink I’d memorized from stolen glances. His jet black hair, slightly out of place, rather dishevelled looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, a nervous habit of his I’d noticed long before I had the right to. His eyes that once sparkled with careless laughter stared into the void, monotonously, the kind of tired that no sleep could fix.

He sat slouched, one hand draped over his knee, lost in thoughts I’d never be invited into.

And still, every part of me leaned toward him and him only, quiet desperately.

I did comprehend one thing at this moment.

It wasn’t new….just something I’d buried under every excuse I could find since the past 8 months.

But sitting here today, with him again, it felt irrefutable.

I couldn’t escape Jeon Jungkook. Ever. At least in this lifetime.

Not when I refused his tutoring, pretending my pride was stronger than my curiosity about him almost a decade ago.

Even now when he was no longer a constant presence in my life.

I was trapped in a tunnel where he existed, always there, always somewhere near.

Even when I convinced myself it was about time to finally take the baby steps and let go, to move toward tunnel where he wasn’t in vicinity, where he didn’t deserve that kind of priority in my mind.

The universe, in its cruel humor, made sure that every tunnel I entered eventually curved back to him.

We were tangled too deeply, through our mothers, our mutual friends, the intimacy of the shared memories, and that inevitable pull I felt toward him.

Our enthusiastic mothers (best friends since forever) had decided to eat at this Pan-Asian restaurant right outside the airport before we left for Hina Aunt’s beach house together.

We flew all the way from Seoul to Jeju, a three hour flight, and honestly, if it wasn’t for Hina Aunt, I would’ve never accompanied my mom.

I also adored Miseo, who had practically been begging me to come, and I didn’t want to be impertinent.

Fuck my life because what a prosperous time to attend a three day function with Jeon Jungkook.

Thousands of possibilities ran through my mind.

Something had changed.

I couldn’t name it, yet I could sense it, an unfamiliar distance wrapped in the same body I’d known for years. His presence used to be overwhelming, it always has been, but this was different. It wasn’t loud anymore; it was heavy.

Is it because now he knows that I feel the way I feel for him?

I never imagined feeling this sort of unease around Jungkook's presence, probably because this time both of us had built a wall around ourselves. Even when his nearness used to short circuit my thoughts (still does), I could at least look at him with a giddiness in my heart. Yet now… it felt like I was being cornered by him into a tight space, the air tightening around me the longer I spent in his vicinity, as if he carried gravity itself. He sat far enough for me to stay normal, yet he somehow managed to steal all the space in the room.

Externally I may have sat all composed and probably more poised than Queen Elizabeth in the chair opposite to him, but internally? I was all haywire.

I made a promise to myself right when I saw him almost 40 minutes ago that no matter what happens, I won't look at him, I couldn't care less if he didn't either. I would pretend he didn’t exist as I have been for the past few months and whatever emotions I felt blooming inside had to be hammered down.

Deep down, I thanked the heavens, relieved our mothers replaced the quietness while chatting about his wicked grandmother, the one I despised and how she still found ways to bargain into his parent’s relationship even at her old age. The two friends were too indulged in their own world to pick up on the tension between Jungkook and me, and I silently prayed my mother didn’t notice.

Three months had passed since the last time I texted him. Were three months enough to forget? To erase the memory of that text I sent him, confessing my undying love like a pathetic little idiot?

My whole body betrayed me, hyperaware of his every movement in my peripheral vision. Every shift, every sigh, every time he lifted his cup.

The hair on the back of my neck rose before my eyes even found him. His gaze lingered somewhere near, unblinking, dissecting me from a distance. Could he stop analyzing me? I thought annoyed. It made my skin crawl, every nerve burning under his gaze.

He cleared his throat.

“Your boutique… Ma told me it’s located in the new SKS Tower.” Was the first thing he said to me.

My heart keen on betraying me lurched, slamming hard against my ribcage and one strange moment, I felt that same rush of feelings again. No. You cannot let loose!

I only looked at his chest “Yes.” my stomach twisted as the words left my mouth, my heartbeat so loud it drowned everything else out.

“Oh…I see.” He nodded while letting out a humourless chuckle, mindlessly tapping his fingers against the plastic table. That sound was so annoying! Isn’t he nearing his 30s?

Eventually after another awkward pause Jungkook swallowed his pride and tried to start another conversation with me, about his friend owno Despite the storm in his chest, he reached for me with small words, casual attempts. But I stayed distant. I answered fully only when his mother spoke, or when mine did.

Never him.

It might have him, I could see it in the slump of his shoulders, the way his mouth tightened at the corners. But still, I refused to look straight into his eyes.

He was nothing more than a ghost sitting at the same table, a presence I forced myself to ignore.

When he asked me a question, I gave him a subtle nod. That was all. My eyes stayed fixed on Hanmi Aunty and my mom, never daring to drift his way again.

Until—

"Ahh,"

He hissed loudly.

My head whipped toward him before I could stop myself.

Finally.

My breath caught. Blood trickled down his index finger, fast, staining the glass table, streaking across the light grey fabric of his shirt.

He’d only wanted to cut open the sandwich box for me. The cutter had slipped.

My chest tightened.

If things weren’t so strange between us, I might have scolded him for being so careless. Now… panic prickled along my spine.

“Jungkook! Oh my! There’s a lot of blood, honey!” his mother’s panicked voice shot, slicing through the space.

I froze for a heartbeat, then lunged. My hands grabbed the stack of tissues like my life depended on it and I rushed to his side and crouched beside him, heart hammering, throat raw with urgency.

“Here!” I hissed, wrapping the tissues around his finger, gripping too tight, eyes wide as crimson spread faster than I could blink, soaking through the layers. My stomach lurched and my hands shook.

“Oh my, let me get a band-aid and some antiseptic! I saw a pharmacy nearby!” my mom’s voice trembled, each word heavy with worry as she stood.

“Wait, I’ll go with you,” Jungkook’s mom said, but he shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. Really,” he said, wincing slightly, trying to keep the attention off himself.

“You’re bleeding too much, just stay here,” his mom snapped, concern sharp in her voice.

“Sweetie, take more tissues,” His mom added gently, reaching for the stack. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

They hurried out together, leaving the booth suddenly quiet, the chatter of the restaurant fading into the background.

He shifted slightly, sliding to the side and patting the empty space beside him, quiet, polite, unmistakably inviting.

“Will you keep standing there?.” He breathed.

I couldn’t even look at him, yet my body moved before my pride could stop it, settling stiffly beside him as if denying him wasn’t an option in my moral sense.

It wasn’t an option.

I exhaled shakily, still holding the tissues to his finger, painfully aware of how close our shoulders were… almost touching….and how warm he felt… how much space he took up without meaning to.

I cursed myself internally.

I could’ve easily offered to go with my mom and left Hanmi Aunt alone with Jungkook, but deep down…

I didn’t try very hard to avoid being here with him either.

I kept the tissue pressed to his bleeding finger, praying for my mom and Hanmi Aunty to hurry up.

At some point, I realized he was gently trying to steady my hands, his fingers brushing over mine, warm and careful. I hated how my body reacted, how the tremor got worse instead of better.

The second his other hand started to wrap around my fingers, I pulled back, too fast, pretending it was nothing.

He didn’t make a big deal out of it.

Didn’t question it at all.

Instead, he just let out a slow breath, wiped the blood off with a soaked tissue, and tossed it aside like it didn’t matter. Then he reached for a fresh one, completely unfazed, like he always was, calm where I was a disaster.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly, warmth curling under the words in that way that always made my chest tighten. “What’s going on, Silly?”

No. Not that damn nickname. It wasn’t supposed to be so easy for him to break my determination to not feel anything for him.

I looked down at him too fast and the closeness snapped into place like a trap.

I could see his lashes, the faint redness in his tired eyes as he stared at me, his thick brows drawn together like he was trying to read every thought I wasn’t saying.

His scent hit me first, that warm musky cologne, I’d grown up recognizing in crowds long before I ever admitted what it did to me. Now it felt sharper, heavier, like it wrapped around my ribs and squeezed.

My pulse stuttered.

Of course he noticed. He always noticed the things I wished he wouldn’t.

“Did something happen?” he asked, leaning in just a fraction. “You’re really… different today.”

Different.

If only he knew.

If only he remembered the message I know he saw.

If only he didn’t look right through me like nothing had happened, like my drunken confession hadn’t even registered.

Watching him sit there, so indifferent and untouched hurt more than the thought of rejection.

It felt like my feelings hadn’t been worth remembering.

I opened my mouth, but the words stuck, thick, painful, too dangerous to release.

If I said anything, something risky might come spilling out, the way I’d wanted him for years, the confession I never got to take back, the humiliation of knowing he ignored it.

My phone buzzed on the table, too loud, too sharp, like the universe slapping a hand over my mouth.

I flinched hard and I took it as my cue.

I couldn’t stand him at the moment.

Because the more I looked at him, the more I hated myself.

“Uhmm… I’ll be right back,” I said, the words cracking in the middle. “Just give me a second.”

I pushed up from my seat so fast the booth swayed.

“____, slow down,” he said, eyes widening, voice softening even more. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine.”

The lie scraped my throat on the way out.

I backed away before he could say anything else, before that gentle, worried stare of his ruined me further.

The moment I turned, the air shifted. My breath came out broken, my vision pricked at the edges, and every step toward the restroom felt like I was walking away from something I’d wanted my entire stupid life but could never have.

JUNGKOOK’S POV.

She blocked me.

I didn’t realize I’d lost her until a week ago at the office, when I went to invite her to my gym’s opening. I typed her name out of habit. The screen answered for her: user not found.

The same on WhatsApp, Instagram, iMessage.

Unreachable in every platform we were connected in. With no explanations or notice.

And now, sitting beside me, she held the tissues like my bleeding hand bothered her, but the way she barely even looked at me, barely answered my questions, the way her shoulders stiffened, the moment she bolted toward the restroom… it left me off balance in a way I didn’t expect.

I swallowed, not sure if I should call after her or just let her go.

My finger throbbed a little, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the friendship between us that suddenly felt like it was hanging by a thread.

I pressed the fresh tissue against the cut again, trying to focus on anything but the empty space she’d left. But every time my eyes drifted to her chair, that same hollow ache spread through my chest.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was reading into things that weren’t actually there and this distance was just… a phase. Something temporary. Something she’d move past.

Obviously we hadn’t been in touch for over a year, so it was hard for me to guess what could’ve been the reason.

The familiar urge to make sure she was okay, without crossing whatever line she clearly didn’t want me touching.

Before my thoughts could spiral any further, our moms finally returned, crowding around me and fussing over the cut, checking the bandage, wiping away the last bit of blood like it was something serious.

“Better?” my mom asked caressing my hair gently, her voice soft with relief.

“Much,” I murmured, shrugging, though my gaze kept drifting back to the corridor she’d practically run to like I was about to eat her up.

“Where did she go, Kook?” her mom asked.

“To the restroom, I think.” I pointed toward the restroom.

“Alright then we’ll leave once ____ returns,” my mom said, glancing at the empty chair and then at her watch.

Her mom’s phone buzzed.

“Oh, she’s calling.”

I kept my eyes on the baby pink card holder she’d forgotten on the seat, listening to the one sided conversation.

“____? Are you done? Come quick, we’re going to be late since it’s a one hour drive from here.”

A pause.

“Why?”

“…We can buy that on the way there.”

Another pause, softer.

“Where are you heading then?”

“Then, we’ll leave first. But will you recognise Hina’s cottage house?”

Was she not going with us?

“Okay. Fine.”

Minha Aunty hung up with a sigh.

My mom asked, while reapplying her strawberry lipbalm. “What did she say?”

“She’s saying that she’ll Uber separately,” her mom replied. “She’s going to buy fruits and desserts for Hina.”

“____, is so considerate, buying the fruits and desserts all by herself.” my mom muttered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

I wasn’t buying it. We could’ve easily stopped on the way, grabbed dessert, picked up fruits, there was no reason for her to go separately.

No reason except the one she wouldn’t say out loud.

“Aunty, can you call her again?” I asked again. “Tell her to just come with us?”

“I did, but you know she’s stubborn. She already left.”

“Where is she now? We can go pick her up, I booked a private car from the airport.”

“No, Kook, there’s no need for that. Let’s just go. ____ can manage on her own.” Her mom interjected gently, decisive in that way only she could be.

“But are you sure, you can drive it in this condition!?” my mom said panicked.

“God Mom, I can,” I cut in, more irritated than I meant to sound. It was just a tiny cut, but somehow everyone was fussing.

Silence settled over the booth for a beat.

“Okay if you say so, let’s leave.” my mom finally said.

And as I stood up, grabbing her pink card holder and slipping it into my pocket, all I could think was….she really didn’t want to be around me that badly.

The next three days blurred into a pattern that made something coil tight in his chest.

Not just because Hana had stopped answering his calls, left his messages on read, ignored every voicemail like he’d never mattered.

But because the one person who had never left his side was now avoiding him like he was a disease.

Hina Aunt’s cottage didn’t make it easier.

The place was huge, white wood trimmed with soft blue, wrapped in creeping vines and clusters of hydrangeas. The air smelled like sea salt and wet leaves, the kind of coastal greenery Jeju was famous for. Inside, everything was warm and lived-in, hand-woven throws, old family portraits, soft lamps that made the evenings glow.

It should have felt comforting.

But every time he walked through those wide hallways or stepped onto the garden deck overlooking the ocean, the quiet felt sharper even though he was surrounded with the kindest people.

The engagement itself was intimate, almost too intimate for how awkward he felt.

Miseo and her fiancé stood beneath hanging fairy lights, surrounded only by her parents, his parents, three of his closest friends, and a handful of relatives from Hina’s side.

And you moved through it all like he was invisible.

Laughing with Hina Aunt. Helping Miseo fix her dress. Talking to strangers he didn’t even know.

Every time he tried to walk toward you, you drifted away (way too skilfully) polite smile, soft excuse, gone before he could even say your name.

And all he could think was.

How did they get here?

And why did it hurt this much?

You spoke to everyone else.

Anyone but him.

To the aunties fussing over decorations.

To Hina’s cousins who kept pulling you into group photos, and silly tiktok videos.

To the uncles asking you about your studies.

You laughed, you smiled, you blended into the noise of the house, but every time Jungkook walked into a room, you went quiet.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t stand near him.

Didn’t once acknowledge him unless absolutely necessary, and it usually happened at the dinning table when you all sat to eat.

And he saw it, every shift, every subtle avoidance of yours.

Sometimes he caught you in his peripheral vision, your posture straightening the second you noticed him.

Sometimes you’d walk past him without even glancing up, your perfume brushing his sleeve like a ghost.

Sometimes he opened his mouth to speak, only for you to suddenly find someone else beside you to talk to and he would be at a loss of words.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was the last night in Jeju.

The table was set under the soft glow of hanging lights in Hina Aunt’s cottage dining room. The ocean breeze drifted in through the open windows, carrying the faint scent of salt and pine, mingling with the aroma of the dinner spread.

We all sat together.

Hina Aunt, her husband, Rony, me, her, our mothers, and two of Miseo’s cousins.

Miseo had left earlier to visit her fiancé’s grandmother, making the gathering smaller, more intimate.

The conversation flowed easily among the adults, laughter punctuating the soft music playing in the living room.

I watched her across the table. Conversing with one of Miseo’s cousin.

Every time my gaze flicked toward her, she was already looking away, focused on something or someone else.

“Next girl to get married is ____,” Hina Aunt said, looking at her with a mischievous smile.

She cleared her throat.

“I’m not getting married anytime soon, Aunty,” she said, voice steady but careful.

“So there’s no boy?” Hina Aunt teased, eyes twinkling.

“Uhmm… I want to focus on my work for now,” she replied, forcing a polite smile but I could read beneath it, she didn’t want to talk about this at all.

“Liar! Mari said something different last week!” her mom laughed, nudging her gently.

“Mom!” she hissed, cheeks heating, clearly flustered.

Oh.

There is a boy.

There must be.

A guy who treats her right and fills in all her standards.

She was at that age.

The last time we talked or texted she hadn’t mentioned anyone special. But it had been a long time since then, and judging by the flush on her face, it was evident.

Maybe if we could speak the way we used to, I would’ve asked her.

Is that why she blocked me?

Is that also why she’s so distant?

Did she also fight with him like I did with my girlfriend?

Something heavier, something unresolved, was waiting for me back in Seoul and I had no control over it now.

I stayed quiet, pretending to listen to the chatter, watching her laugh and respond to everyone else.

My fingers twitched against the bandaged hand, the plate in front of me suddenly uninteresting as I remembered the fight I had with Hana.

All I could do was text her, call her, and hope. If she didn’t respond… there was nothing else I could do while being miles away in Jeju.

I wished I could talk to ____ about this, because suppressing it hurt worse than anything else tonight.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

ＯＣ’Ｓ ＰＯＶ

She was agitated.

Half frustrated at her mother for dragging her along instead of her younger brother, half annoyed at herself.

She swore she would do anything to leave this house party, because it was becoming intolerable.

Her heart felt heavy, restless, thrumming with a feeling she didn’t know how to name.

Avoiding the man she had wanted for so long felt like a war waged entirely within herself. Having him so close, yet being unable to look at him, was a quiet cruelty, a constant reminder of everything she had lost and everything she couldn’t have. She hated it. Every instinct wanted to run toward him, to bridge the space, but no matter how badly she wanted to talk to him she couldn’t.

She could tell he was bothered, maybe by her behavior, maybe by something else and that only made the ache sharper.

Talking to him as though everything was fine, pretending, was not something she could afford, especially with a man who was taken, already in a relationship. It didn’t feel right. Not now. Not in this dysfunctional stage they were in.

He knew things she wanted to keep buried, and that knowledge… it destroyed the balance she had clung to for so long.

So she stayed rooted in place, silent, watching him from afar, letting the longing expand.

He did try talking to her.

Not once. Not twice. But countless times.

And still… she acted ignorant.

Yet it was Jungkook. The same old Jungkook.

This time he was someone else’s Jungkook.

He didn’t let pride or ego dictate his actions. He was patient, careful, disturbed in that quiet, restrained way that made my chest hurt every time I thought about it.

Even when she wanted to push him away, he kept trying. And every attempt tore her apart, because she knew how much he cared, even if he didn’t say it outright.

She felt strangled.

So she stepped out of the room, leaving her mom sleeping soundly.

The cottage was quiet. Everyone else had gone to bed. She stepped out onto the front porch. The night air was cool, brushing her hair across her face, yet it did little to calm the anxiousness she felt. She wandered toward the spot that faced the ocean directly, needing space, needing air… needing a moment away from her thoughts.

She had been standing there for God knows how long, tucked into the far edge of the porch where the shadows swallowed her whole. The cottage door creaked behind her, loud, unmistakable and she stiffened.

He stepped out.

Tall, white t-shirt, loose pants, mussed hair, a lit cigar between his fingers. Fortunately. Gladly. He didn’t see her. Of course he didn’t. The porch was dim, and she was too far from the light.

He moved to the opposite end, walking down the small steps, the faint glow of a cigar warming the angles of his face, he blended into the scenery so well, like he belonged in moments like this… quiet, steady, beautiful and impossible to read.

A thin trail of smoke drifted from his fingers, curling lazily into the air. She hadn’t even known he smoked because he always despised it, since when did he start? Was it occasional? From stress? A habit he picked up recently? The questions knotted uneasily in her stomach. She stayed where she was, fingers curling around the railing until they burned. The waves rolled in, slow and rhythmic. The trees rustled. The boards under his feet gave a single low creak as he walked further out. Another breath of smoke spilled from his lips, carried away by the ocean breeze, soft, fleeting.

She should’ve turned around.

Should’ve gone back to her room.

Should’ve left before he came any closer.

But she couldn’t.

It was the last night, and some selfish part of her, one she’d been fighting for years, wanted to take him in. Just for a moment. Just long enough to memorize the way he moved, the way he held the cigar between his fingers like he’d done it for years, the way he exhaled smoke like he was letting go of a day heavier than he admitted.

He stared out at the ocean, unaware she was only a few steps away.

Unaware she was standing completely still because walking away from him required a strength she didn’t have at the moment.

And in that strange, fragile silence, the distance between them felt like something she couldn’t cross but also something she wasn’t ready to let go of.

He didn’t see her at first.

There was this impending anxiousness that he couldn’t dodge no matter how hard he tried to keep himself distracted.

When he layed down in hopes of getting at least 3 hours of sleep, he ended up turning left to right.

Maybe it was Hana.

Work that he had to resume.

Or a close friend who now hated him.

Inside his head, a chaos was unfolding.

He got out of the house silently in hopes of the ocean dwindling half of the void, and suffocation in him.

The cigarette did help like it always did.

He swore it would be his last one, yet he already smoked 6 in the span of 3 hours, it was not good but it was hard to stop.

He was standing still, shoulders loose, one hand in his pocket as he exhaled the last thin trace of smoke. Then some tiny sound, maybe the shift of a floorboard made him glance toward the porch.

His eyes swept past her…then snapped back.

A quiet, startled pause.

Like he genuinely hadn’t expected anyone, especially her to be there.

His brows lifted just a fraction, the kind of subtle surprise he never let show.

For a second neither of them moved.

The night felt too still.

Too charged.

Then he blinked, straightened a little, and without breaking eye contact, he let the cigar fall from his fingers. He crushed it into the sand with his heel like it didn’t matter anymore. And that’s when he started walking toward her, slow, steady steps, as if he wasn’t sure she’d stay.

For some reason, she couldn’t look away either.

Just watching him close the distance… nearing, him on the sand, her on the porch, the height difference making him look even more undone, more raw.

It was like her body remembered to panic before her mind did. Her breath hitched, nerves spiking, and she turned away too quickly, pretending to adjust the railing, pretending she hadn’t just been frozen staring at him like he was some fever dream.

She barely took one step when his voice cut through the quiet.

“____.”

He didn’t even need to say anything else.

The kind of voice that asked her to stop without actually saying the word.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

No I needed to face him, someday any way.

She turned slowly, looking directly at him.

More closely.

Ignoring the flutter in her chest.

He stopped a few steps away, the night air thick around them.

He glanced at her, then at the dark stretch of beach, before returning his gaze to her, clearly debating what to say.

“…You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you,” he said, softy, running a thoughtful hand across his jaw.

Her gaze drifted to the ocean, a sigh slipping out of her before she spoke “…It’s nothing.”

A beat passed.

“…You smoke,” she stated the obvious, like she needed something to fill the space.

He looked into her eyes for a moment, an unspoken agony shinning in those brown orbs of his, and at one point she even forgot what she said to him.

“Just occasionally.” He finally replied rubbing the back of his neck.

“You said you’d go bald the day you touched a cigarette.”

She didn’t know why she said it, only that the moment it left her lips, it felt too personal and too intimate for how they were now.

Jungkook let out a humorless chuckle, one perfect brow lifting slightly. “Do you remember everything I say?” he rasped.

She swallowed, steadying herself even as her fingers curled tightly into her palms.

“I remember because this was something we agreed on…”

She stayed still, but Jungkook wasn’t. His thoughts pulled in opposite directions either ask, or let it go. He knew if he stayed silent now, he might never get another chance.

He exhaled, steadying himself.

“Can I ask you something?” he said softly, a quiet insistence beneath his tone.

“…Yeah,” she murmured.

“Are you angry with me?”

Her head snapped up, too fast, too telling. “I—no. I’m not,” she said, a little too quickly.

He held her gaze, studying her like he was searching for something beyond her answer. His lips parted, like he might say more, but the words never came.

Her chest tightened at that, at his hesitation, at how careful he seemed around her now.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. It built in her lungs, in her throat, his voice that makes her shiver not from cold but something else, his presence, the way he looked at her like he knew.

It was too much.

She stepped back from it before it could pull her under.

“I should go…” she said, her expression going blank as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear avoiding his eyes this time.

Neither moved closer, neither spoke again.

A few seconds passed.

She turned away first, footsteps light but deliberate, and he stayed where he was, staring after her.

His thoughts spiraled, unrelenting and his fists curled without meaning to.

What could she possibly have sent or felt that made her block him and shut him out completely?

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy and reluctant thought whispered…that one specific person had something to do with it.

Because she was the only person who kept his phone with her half the time they were together.

Sleep slipped further away, the insomnia worsening. The quiet night offered no comfort, only questions he couldn’t answer, a gnawing worry that burrowed deeper with each passing second.

Her retreat. The walls she’d built. Every unspoken thing between us.

It all pressed in right at this moment, leaving him restless, helpless, and hollow.

THE NEXT DAY

Morning came, and with it, the deliberate coldness from you.

In the car to the airport, words clung only to your mother and his. Not a glance passed between you two.

He didn’t try to break it this time. He knew it wouldn’t matter.

The silence wasn’t just silence, it was weight pressing down, compulsory and suffocating, each second stretching longer than the last.

Spending four days with Jungkook had been… a lot. Too much, maybe.

Now, back in her own home, the silence pressed in, heavy and deafening.

Night wraps around her like a suffocating blanket. She lies in her bed, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with a desperate rhythm she tries to control. Something inside her claws at her, insatiable, an ache she can’t name, a want she hates herself for having.

She turns over, whimpering softly, curling into herself as if that could make it go away. Her fingers tremble at her sides, but despite her will, they inch closer to her pants, hesitant, guilty. No… not this. Not him. Not like this, she whispers into the darkness, trying to resist, trying to will the feeling away.

Every thought of him drags a pang through her chest, Jungkook has become the type of man she has no right to want. To him, she’s just a silly little girl, inexperienced and puerile, nothing but a fleeting amusement he’ll never take seriously.

Her hips shift slightly, betraying her, a soft gasp escaping despite the shame burning in her. She hates herself. The want, the heat pooling low in her stomach, it’s disgusting, sinful, unearned. She can’t escape the shame, the self loathing that coils around her heart every time she imagines him, the way he would dominate her, feel so much larger, stronger, inevitable.

Her hands pause over her pants, fighting, resisting, trembling. She bites her lip, pressing her forehead into the pillow as she tries to push the thought away.

This is wrong.

What would he think of me if he ever got to know?

I’m disgusting.

I should stop.

But the ache is relentless.

Every memory of him, every imagined brush of his touch, makes her body betray her, curling, shifting, desperate for a feeling she knows she can never truly have.

A soft, broken whimper escapes her as her fingers finally slide under the waistband.

She hates herself for it.

She eventually surrenders, even though she knows it’s wrong, even though she knows she’s betraying her own sense of self, lost in the bitter, desperate pleasure of wanting what she can never have.

Her hand slides slowly, hesitantly at first, tracing herself through her pants. A shiver crawls up her spine, and she whimpers, hating the sound.

I’m pathetic.

She swore she’d never do this again, that she’d never give in. But the imagined weight of Jungkook’s body pressing hers down, the imagined compression of their skins together, overpowers her shame.

Her hips begin to move, just slightly at first, grinding against nothing but air and fantasy, and still it makes her breath hitch.

Jungkook’s hands in her mind guide her relentlessly, cupping her breasts, pinching and teasing her nipples. She presses her palms against her own chest, trying to imitate the imagined pressure. Her nipples harden under her touch, and a soft moan escapes her lips, sharp with guilt and need.

Her imagination grew darker, dirtier, Jungkook’s fingers slipping over her clit, the breadth of him covering her, pressing into all the parts she’ll never touch. She feels small, inadequate, and the knowledge that he belongs to someone else makes her pulse thrum even faster. Every flicker of pleasure is laced with self loathing, yet she can’t stop.

She can’t resist.

Her body burns too hot, too raw.

“God… I shouldn’t—” she whispers hoarsely, but her words are swallowed by another whimper. Her fingers move faster, hips shifting, body trembling under the weight of her imagination. The filth and the pain of it, knowing that she’ll never be the one he looks at like that fuels her. It drives her deeper, until she’s crying out, drowning in a desperate and dirty heat that leaves her gasping against her sheets.

Her hands don’t stop, moving over herself as if she can feel him there. In her mind, Jungkook’s hands are on her chest, massive and veiny, soft yet rough, compressing her against him just like she imagines.

Her nipples are teased between his fingers, and her back arches on the mattress, whimpers spilling from her lips, her fingers mimic the imagined touch, rolling her peaks and dragging them through her own palms. She imagines his mouth on her, sucking, licking, tracing every hardened peak, worshiping her breasts the way she’ll never be touched. The fantasy is raw, breathless, and she shivers violently, rocking her hips in sync with what she imagines his thrusts would feel like, pressing her against him, grinding his hardness against her wetness.

Her climax builds slowly, torturously, each gasp and shiver tinged with guilt, and the cruel impossibility of ever having him. With a shuddering gasp, she comes undone, quiet enough that no one hears, but loud enough that her body releases every ounce of frustration and longing she’s been carrying.

And when the aftershocks end, when the fantasy finally drains her body of all heat, she collapses face first into her pillow, hands uselessly falling to the sheets, her chest heaving violently and her thighs shaking. She sobs into the pillow, screaming everything she feels, trying to erase the guilt, the longing, the despair, the way she let her mind run wild again.

And that night, she made only one prayer, desperately spoken from a heart worn raw by longing. She begged God to take this misery from her, to strip her heart of its devotion to a man who would never love her back, to make her indifferent to him the way he had always been indifferent to her, and to grant her a life that no longer hurt to live.

She closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep. The hiccups eventually left her, but sleep never came that night.

THIRD PERSON POV.

“Yeah, faster! Just like that!” Hana moaned from above, his hands gripping her waist as she swiveled against him, while he pounded into her pussy from underneath. Her breasts bounced in front of his face, and he couldn’t help but lean forward to wrap his mouth around a nipple, tongue swirling as he buried himself deep inside her core. Her walls clenched around him, pulsing, so close.

“Yes, fuck!” She whimpered, breathless.

But his mind wasn’t here. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t lose himself in her the way he used to. Normally, Hana consumed him, the way she looked, the way she breathed, the way her face shifted when she was close.

Tonight, though, he felt far-flung, like he was watching himself from somewhere else, replaying the same cassette.

Thoughts of their argument three weeks ago gnawed at him, the obnoxious silence from her, his unanswered calls, voice notes.

He could almost hear the echo of his own frustration.

For fuck’s sake, they weren’t in high school.

He was about to enter thirties, and so was Hana.

And it sucked, because it felt like he had to constantly beg her to even listen to him.

He wasn’t the type to force someone to talk, so he stepped back, gave her space, replaying every word he might’ve said wrong.

Was this normal? Was it supposed to feel like this? She hadn’t replied to him until he’d shown up at her door with flowers and her favorite donuts.

She opened the door.

And stared at him intensely for a minute. She hadn’t spoken. Not a word. Just pulled him in, desperately kissed him, and then it had led to this. Being used to her touch for so long, his body responded on instinct, moving with her intensity, but it was hollow in a way, like he was tethered to her physically while his mind drifted elsewhere. He needed that stability, needed to pretend they were okay. He knew they should’ve talked. Sex wouldn’t fix the issues.

Was sex ever enough?

“I’m coming,” he groaned, tightening his grip on her hips, anchoring her above him.

Breathing fast as he reached his climax, her voice rose louder, and he realized she did too.

Both of them breathing heavily. Quiet. The post orgasmic bliss lasted a few minutes, and he stared at the beige ceiling, mind drifting, unable to anchor himself in the moment. Hana caught his attention again, holding his cheeks, lips engulfing his, bare chest pressed against his equally bare and sweaty one.

“I love you, babe.”

He smiled softly and whispered, “Love you.” but it felt like a script he was reciting, not a thought fully felt.

A few months passed since they patched up.

Things returned to their version of normal, they texted, they met briefly, they kissed, they made love but the tension under the surface never left.

For some reason, he couldn’t open up to Hana the way he used to. The effort that once came effortlessly now felt forced, rehearsed, almost foreign. He’d gone from telling her every thought that crossed his mind to burying most of them deep where she couldn’t reach. Every day he tried to convince himself that his happiness still lived with Hana, that you don’t just walk away from a two year relationship without a fight.

He noticed her indifference, the way she retreated as if that argument had never happened. She stopped coming to his parents’ home altogether; now they either stayed at her place or booked a hotel whenever they wanted to spend the night.

He pretended it didn’t bother him for her sake, because he couldn’t muster the energy to fight again.

Until he couldn’t pretend anymore, her odd behavior had resurfaced, yet this time it was more unusual, more unsettling than before.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Hana sat on the edge of the bed, Jungkook’s phone idly charging on the nightstand, his presence in the living room muted by the low hum of his laptop. Curiosity or maybe something darker made her reach for it.

She unlocked it, opening WhatsApp, and there it was a new message from his mom.

Twenty pictures, forwarded to him. Attached: Miseo’s engagement party.

Jungkook had briefly mentioned his four-day trip to Jeju with his mother, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Every word reminded her of that unnecessary argument between them, the one she was still nursing silently. She scrolled through the pictures of unknown faces, pretending to glance casually, but then she froze. There they were, you with Jungkook, standing side by side. Close enough that your shoulders nearly touched, your head slightly turned toward him. And the way you looked at him…anyone could tell it wasn’t a friendly look. Her chest tightened, a sharp, twisting ache. She blinked, refusing to believe it, then checked again. The photo didn’t lie. For those few seconds frozen in pixels, you weren’t just there, you were with him. Smiling, leaning into his space in a way that made her heart sink. Without thinking, she flipped through his WhatsApp to his Instagram. Her eyes burned as she saw the subtle proof, you had unblocked him. The gap of 2–3 weeks when she thought he’d been lazy, when he hadn’t chased her enough and now she saw what he had been doing. Her hands shook. Jealousy and betrayal tangled together, each swipe of the screen making it worse.

All she saw was red.

Unmistakable anger consumed her, spreading through every nerve.

Hana stormed into the living room like a force he hadn’t braced for.

Jungkook barely had time to look up from his laptop before her voice hit.

“You must be so happy, right?” she said, a sharp, mocking edge to her smile. “Now that your favorite pathetic slut unblocked you.”

He stayed seated, trying to make sense of her words. In the entirety of two years being with her never has Jungkook seen Hana this furious. The only times he’d seen her act like this was over the phone and that one night an ex of hers called.

“What?”, eyes locked on her like he was watching something unstable begin to crack. Every twitch in her face, every flare of her nostrils, every tremble in her fingers told him she wasn’t thinking, she was practically combusting.

She marched right up to him and shoved his phone right in front of his face with her shaking hands, he moved back on instinct, eyes squinting to see as it was too bright, a very familiar instagram profile glowing on the screen like a taunt.

“You met her in Jeju, didn’t you?” she demanded, her voice tightening. “You didn’t tell me because of her, right?”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t reach for the phone.

Just stared, his tongue poking his cheek, breath slowly turning uneven.

"She has a name, Hana, it's _____."

She only sneered, her eyes darkening sinisterly.

And irritation was starting to burn through his shock.

“A name?” she repeated, a humorless laugh slipping out. “Yeah, okay. A whore. That’s what she is. Going after someone who’s already taken—”

“That’s enough.”

The air between them changed tight and charged.

His expression had hardened, whatever restraint he’d been holding onto now worn thin.

“You don’t get to call her that,” he said, quieter this time, but firmer. 

Hana blinked at him, like she hadn’t expected that. Then she scoffed, stepping closer instead of backing down.

“Wow,” she muttered. “Listen to you. Defending her like that, w-what, should I feel stupid?”

He didn’t answer.

And that silence heavy, unwavering said more than anything he could’ve.

This.

This was the Hana he had been waiting to see.

The version of her that hid behind dimpled smiles, soft touches, sweet practiced lines.

The one she tried so hard to keep buried.

“Why would she even block me, Hana?” he asked, voice lower now.

“I wasn't paranoid about that _____ for no reason. ” Your name flew out like poison.

“Jungkook, did you fuck her in jeju while we were on a break? Did she confess to you again? Answer me!” she screeched, throwing his phone.

It hit the counter. A violent crack. The screen splintering like ice.

He stared at the shattered glass, and something inside him snapped.

For a moment, he glared, silent, stunned, furious, before slamming his laptop shut so hard the sound ricocheted through the apartment.

He pushed up from the stool, the legs scraping violently on the floor.

“What the fuck are you even saying?” he hissed, his voice low and shaking with restrained anger. “Are you out of your head?”

“No! It’s you who’s out of his thick fucking head!” she shrieked.

Her breath was coming out in harsh bursts now, fingers digging into her own arms like she needed to hold herself back from breaking something.

“____,” Hana ground out, her bloodshot eyes blazing. “This… pathetic bitch you won’t shut up about, she texted you months ago. Pouring her heart out, saying shit like she loves you, Jungkook. She’s been in love with you for years, like she never had a shot before. But now? Now that you’re with me, she has to make sure you know how much she wants you. Sent you this long, pathetic paragraph, whining about how it kills her that you’re not hers… all of it, knowing damn well you’re in a relationship. What a desperate, disgusting—”

“Stop. Don’t talk about her like that when you don’t know anything, Hana,” he rasped, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists.

“No fucking way you’re still taking her side over your own girlfriend, Jungkook.” she seethed, jealousy lacing every word.

Jungkook closed his eyes, fighting for breath, trying to rein in the unrelenting surge of rage.

She had no business talking about you like that, the disgusting words she used to badmouth you, to try and tarnish you, anyone but you. She didn’t know you, anything about you, or what you and he shared. He always viewed you as a sister like friend, and her words only ignited the fierce, unyielding protectiveness he felt for you.

“If ____ texted me that, why didn’t I see it?” he demanded, brows furrowed as he stepped closer, invading her personal space, desperate to see the proof himself, though deep down, he’d sooner believe the grass was purple than that.

Never.

Not that.

It was impossible.

Hana was probably hallucinating or maybe you accidentally sent that text message.

“I saw it. I deleted it and I don’t regret it one bit! That was the only right thing to do.”

Every passing second with her was more jarring, more unbearable. His laugh came out sharp, hollow. He had never felt more foolish, where had she been hiding this truest version of herself all these years? “You’re accusing me of hiding something you deleted off my own phone, Han? I would’ve never done that to you.” His brows drew tight, disbelief slicing deeper than the anger.

This wasn’t a fight anymore.

This was a revelation of who she truly was, hidden behind that flawless mask she’d always worn.

He couldn’t even look at her, too busy trying not to scream back at her because if he did what would set them apart? It would only make things uglier.

Hana’s face twisted. Her voice dropped to a monotone tremor. “Do you love her, Jungkook?”

He just gave her a pointed look, disgusted deep down. He couldn’t believe her.

His jaw flexed.

“Hana, whatever nonsense it is, stop spattering.”

“I have every right to fucking ask you that!” she spat, lunging at him. “TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH YOU BASTARD!”

She pushed him, harder than she ever had.

He stumbled, unprepared, backward into the sharp edge of the glass dining table.

And the moment his cheek slammed into the sharp edge of the glass table, everything inside him went white.

Not pain but shock. A split second of nothingness, like the world paused. Then the burn set in.

Hot.

Wet.

Streaming.

He touched his face and his fingers came away red. For a moment he just stared at them, dazed, as if they didn’t belong to him.

His ears rang. His legs wobbled under him. His heart thudded unevenly, the room tilting at the edges. His mind couldn’t even catch up to anger yet. He was stuck in the disbelief of Did she really… hit me?

“ANSWER ME, YOU JERK!” she screamed, stepping closer, but then froze mid-motion, eyes widening, following the trail of blood on the smooth skin of his.

And it’s like she snapped back from the frenzy state that she has been in.

And Hana’s voice…..shrill, terrified, felt miles away.

“Oh my god, ba-baby! Jungkook, fuck—”

He didn’t hear half of it.

His head was buzzing, a dull throb blooming behind his eyes, spreading down his neck. He could feel his pulse in the wound, pounding, pounding, pounding.

“Stand up, my love! Y-Yo-You’re bleeding..”

When she reached for him, something dark inside him snapped.

“Don’t you even try to touch me, I won’t hesitate to push you off me.”

He gritted. Her face crumbled, tears sliding down her cheeks. His didn’t give two cents of fuck. He swatted her away, chest heaving, every muscle taut. “Don’t touch me.” Her lips quivered. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

He pushed past her, the apartment spinning for a second as he steadied himself on the wall. His vision blurred, a hot trail of blood sliding down onto his shirt, soaking into the fabric until it clung to him like a second skin “Jungkook-wait, no, please, no..” Her voice turned frantic, desperate, small. Her fingers clawed at his arm.

He jerked free, venom lacing his tone. “Don’t.”

The pentup frustration erupted like a dam breaking. He felt a rush of freedom. It was over, and he didn’t want to see her face ever again, couldn’t bear her venomous presence for even a moment longer.

Her breath hitched. “I love you so much… please, don’t give up on me, please I never wanted to push you, let me fix this, Jungkook.” She sobbed.

He only snickered at her empty words, and she noticed. He didn’t even pick up the duffle bag left on her couch or bother with his watch. Only his keys, wallet, and his cracked phone went with him. His legs felt heavy, feet dragging, but the autopilot kept him moving. The hallway lights stung his eyes as he unlocked her front door with trembling hands and a blurry vision. His breathing was shallow, chest tight, heart hammering like he was running a marathon he hadn’t trained for. Hana rushed after him, barefoot, panting, trying to grab his arm, his bicep, anything. But he moved with a precision born of finality. “Jungkook! please- baby, I’m so sorry.” she wailed like a wounded animal. He didn’t slow. Didn’t turn around.

“If you follow me one more time,” he growled, voice shaking with hatred, “I’ll call the cops on you, Hana Evans, and it’s a promise.”

She froze mid step, breath caught in her throat.

He stepped into the elevator.

Doors slid shut like a final sentence.

With a final, unreadable glance, he turned and let the elevator doors swallow him. Never again intending to look back. Hana stood frozen trying to process the chaos she had unleashed. What had she just done? She hurt him so bad, to the point his shirt was soaked in blood. She ruined everything. She sank to the floor, back against the wall next to the elevator. Her chest heaved, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, and every thought collided into one messy, panicked chaos.

He left. He actually left.

This time he truly left.

The apartment felt suffocating. The walls, the floor, even the lingering scent of him, everything was taunting her. She had wanted to control the storm, to lash out, to make him admit she was right, but now the storm had swallowed her instead.

── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦

By the time the elevator doors closed in front of him, the tremor in his hands became impossible to hide. He let himself lean against the cold steel wall for a moment, gripping the railing like the whole world was swaying. And then quietly, silently…..he cried .Not loud. Just a single tear slipping down because his body had given up holding it in. His cheek throbbed in sync with his heartbeat. He tasted blood on his lip. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. And all he could think was how they were right about her.

Everyone saw it but me.

Keonho’s raised eyebrow.

Sunghun’s hesitation.

His friends had warned him. They all said something felt off about her. But he ignored them and always defended her. Tonight she was unrecognizable.

And he realized, she had been slipping for months, and he had ignored every sign. Every instinct. Every small flinch inside him, because he wasn’t ready to let go.

Today he learned his lesson the hardest way.

By the time he reached the clinic, he could barely explain what had happened. The nurse who entered the small room was tiny, barely around 4’6 or 4’7, but her presence was commanding. A lady in her mid, 40s, she introduced herself as Milly, and he was silently grateful for her quiet authority. The only thing she asked was how he’d gotten the cut, and he simply shrugged it off as “an accident.” but his voice cracked halfway through the word. That’s when he realized just how parched his throat was, and how completely dehydrated he had become.

While she cleaned the wound, the antiseptic stung sharp enough to make his eyes water again, but it wasn’t the pain, it was the reminder of the humiliation. The betrayal. The ache that settled deep in his chest where love used to reside. This wasn’t a fight. This wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t “couple stuff.” This was something he wasn’t sure he could ever look at again without remembering the sting. And for the first time in two years, he didn’t hope she would apologize. He hoped he never stepped into that apartment again. Never.

While his thoughts wandered off.

The tiny woman frowned at the monitor, adjusting the cuff on his arm. “Mister Jeon, your blood pressure is very low,” she tsked with disapproval. “You need to rest here for a bit, alright?” He nodded though he could only make half of what she said. “And… when was the last time you ate?” she asked. His throat tightened. “…Morning,” he said monotonously.

“It’s 7:29 pm, We have sandwiches, burrito wraps available in the canteen… want me to fetch you something?”

“No.” His voice was flat, hollow, like he didn’t even know how he was speaking.

“Alright…then I’ll leave.” The nurse nodded and stepped out, leaving the room quiet while Jungkook stayed right where he was, motionless.

His head was pounding, deep, throbbing, like someone was pressing fingers into the back of his skull. The fluorescent lights burned his eyes. His limbs felt heavy, numb, weak. He hadn’t eaten since morning. His entire body felt hollow, starving, shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion mixing until he could barely keep his eyes open. And worse than the physical pain was the suffocation in his chest.

That apartment. Her screaming. The blood. His own heartbeat hammering so fast he thought he might pass out. He felt empty. Utterly drained.

Like a part of him, the part that obsessed over making it work with Hana had died on that living room floor.

He sat on the hospital bed, staring at the wall, breathing too fast, hands still slightly trembling. His shirt stiff with dried blood stuck to his skin.

For the first time in a long time…

He felt alone.

Truly, frighteningly alone.

And when he finally closed his eyes, a single unwelcome thought crept in. What if… there was something he’d missed? Some small truth Hana twisted, but didn’t invent. Something he never let himself consider

Could you ever….?

The thought was discarded as fleetingly as it came to his mind.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

OC’S POV

6 months later.

My parents went all out for their twenty fifth wedding anniversary. Like really all out. They hired a professional event planner who completely transformed our big backyard into something straight out of a dream. Bright decorative lights were strung across panels overhead, glowing warmly as the evening settled in, casting this soft, golden hue over everything. Videographers and photographers hovered around the main stage, catching every laugh, every candid glance.

They even set up a full buffet, enough food to feed over a hundred people, including the crew. My dad and mum were practically glued to each other, clicking pictures nonstop while overly enthusiastic guests cheered them on, laughing, shouting directions, telling them to pose again.

Aunts, uncles, cousins, distant relatives, and my parents’ friends filled the backyard, their voices overlapping, the air buzzing with warmth, nostalgia, and too many shared stories being retold at once. It felt alive, full in a way our house hadn’t felt in years.

My parents’ smiling faces said it all…the kind of smiles that carried years of inside jokes, quiet sacrifices, shared exhaustion, and stubborn love. The way my dad kept looking at my mom like he still couldn’t believe she was his, the way she adjusted his collar with that familiar scolding tenderness…it hit me then. This wasn’t just a party. This was twenty five years of choosing each other, over and over again, and standing there watching them, I felt this tight, warm ache in my chest that was equal parts pride, gratitude, and something dangerously close to tears.

I walked back toward the kitchen, carefully loading all the tiramisu I’d made onto the stroller, lining the boxes up one by one, hands moving on autopilot, I wanted to make something myself for today and tiramisu was the safest choice, the recipe was simple, familiar, something I knew I could make perfectly even for a hundred people without it falling apart.

As I was sliding the last tiramisu box onto the trolley when my mom’s voice rang out from the living room, sharp with mock outrage as she paced with her phone pressed to her ear. “Twenty minutes more?! Are you travelling from another planet? I swear if you’re even a minute late than twenty, I’ll murder you.”

I giggled at her dramatic threat, still wondering who else could possibly be on their way. I’d been sure everyone had already arrived because it was past seven, after all. That was until Mom laughed into the phone, voice bright and teasing. “I thought Jungkook was a fast driver. Come on, all of you, hurry up, we need to click pictures!”

For a second I genuinely thought I’d misheard her. Everything else stayed perfect.

The lights didn’t dim.

The noise didn’t fade.

The house didn’t stop breathing.

Only me.

I slowed, then stopped, my fingers still wrapped around the trolley handle. There was no reason to panic, just that familiar, quiet drop in my chest, like missing a step you swore was there.

She was already hanging up the phone, still stuck in that frantic-host energy as she walked toward the kitchen area, eyes darting around like she was mentally rearranging the entire house.

“Your dad was right,” she muttered, half to herself, tugging at the edge of the counter cloth. “We should’ve added fairy lights inside the house. Now I’m regretting it.” She opened a drawer, closed it again, adjusted a tray that didn’t need adjusting. I stood there watching her pace, the clink of bangles, the faint rush of guests’ voices seeping in from outside.

“You didn’t tell me they were coming, Ma.”

The words slipped out before I could soften them. She paused just for a second hand still resting on the counter. Then she looked at me, brows knitting together in mild confusion. “Tell you what?” “About Hanmi Aunt’s family coming.” I said. Her expression shifted, not defensive, just surprised. “____, I told you all my friends were coming.” “I know,” I replied, quieter now. “I just didn’t know Jungkook would come too.”

She studied my face then, really looked at me, like she was trying to read something written too faintly. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said too fast. Then slower, more honest, “I was just… caught off guard.”

She studied my face then, really looked at me, like she was trying to read something written too faintly. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No!” I said too fast. Then slower, more honest, “Everything’s fine…”

She sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she reached out and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, the same way she used to when I was little. “Hanmi hasn’t visited us in so long,” she said, already turning back toward the noise outside. “This felt like the perfect opportunity to invite her.”

I nodded, masking the chaos going through me.

“Yeah.”

Six months ago, his name would’ve unraveled me. Tonight though, it didn’t. I wasn’t shaking. I wasn’t spiraling. I wasn’t wishing the ground would swallow me whole. I was too busy gathering the scattered pieces of my life and building them back up, brick by brick. In the quiet work of surviving and becoming whole again, his thoughts no longer ruled my mind, no kingdom left for them to reign over. Still, he lingered on the back of my head. Not consuming, just a shadow at the edge of my thoughts, something I’d learned to live with rather than drown in.

Ma clapped her hands once, brisk and decisive. “Come now, sweetie. People are waiting outside.”

And just like that, the moment of pondering was gone, swallowed by fairy lights, and music outside the house.

JUNGKOOK’S POV.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Minha Aunty’s anniversary party, my mother probably wouldn’t have been able to convince me at all.

Not that she even had to try that hard. She didn’t ask more than once. I can’t remember the last time I willingly attended a function.

But things had been different lately.

Waking up didn’t feel like a chore anymore. Going to bed with a lighter heart felt unfamiliar, but nice. Work was expanding, and for the first time in a long while, I was fully present in it with walls and resistance. My nights were simple now. Cold iced beer in my tumbler with homemade pasta and the comforting silence that didn’t claw at me. It’s been three months since I moved into my new house. The one that took far longer than it should have. Months of postponed construction, delayed interiors, design changes I couldn’t commit to back then because I wasn’t in the right headspace. But standing in it now, I knew the waiting had been worth it. Three floors. Wide, open spaces. Floor to ceiling windows that let the morning light pour in exactly the way I’d imagined. A rooftop terrace I barely used yet, but liked knowing was there. The place finally felt… mine. Not just something I owned, but something I belonged in and envisioned myself in when I was a nobody.

The highlight of it though was when Mom visited, she walked around like she was seeing me for the first time again, touching the walls, commenting on the light, beaming from ear to ear. I could tell that he loved it more than she let on vocally…like this house was a proof that I’d made it through.

Boys’ sleepovers had started happening again, Jimin and Wooseok, my closest friends since high school, stretched across the living room floor like nothing had ever changed. Wine bottles on the counter, fried chicken boxes piling up, laughter bouncing off walls that finally heard joy instead of silence. We talked about old days, about the things we took for granted back then, about how recklessly we burned through our youth without knowing how privileged we were.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I had never been this stable before. Once in a while, my parents and my brother would come to stay over. Our bond felt closer than it ever had, close enough that I found myself talking about things I’d never said out loud. Deep things. Things I didn’t even know I’d been carrying. Jinu listened more than he spoke. Maybe because he understood more than he let on.

He was leaving for Melbourne soon, for his bachelor’s. I would never say it to that smug kid’s face, but I knew I’d miss him like hell.

Mom didn’t ask.

Neither did Jinu.

They just… knew.

Mom did ask about the scar on my cheek once. I shrugged it off, gave her some careless excuse she didn’t quite buy, but she let it go anyway, like she always does when she knows pushing won’t get her the truth but it might end with me misbehaving. Whatever had occurred, it was already in the past, for better or worse, it had led me here, away from that version of myself I’d hit low with months ago. If I said I barely thought of Hana, it would be a lie. There were moments where the temptation to end my misery and just show up at her doorstep was overpowering, at nights when the hollowness in my chest would overpower my ability to function and I would type up her number, only one thing stopped me from clicking call, because then a flashback from our last encounter would come into my vision and all my urge to reconcile with her would fly away, it still hurt like a fucker, mostly because she was no longer some dreamy or ephemeral concept to me; I saw her clearly for the woman that she was, and leaving her is something I’d never once regretted.

Mom and Jinu were still arguing over directions when I finally pulled into the driveway, the car slowing on its own as the familar house came into view. The backyard was already glowing, bright lights strung high, voices drifting over the fence, decorations catching my eye in a way that made me exhale without realizing it. Amused, I parked the car, thinking it’d been a long time since something looked this warm, this alive. I hear her before I even see her. A laugh, soft, unguarded threads through the hum of overlapping voices and clinking glasses in the backyard, and my steps slow before I even realize it. It takes me a second to place it.

And then I see her.

_____.

She stood a few feet away, her back to me, but I knew it was her from the silhouette alone. She wore a lilac dress, cladded with lace and chiffon, fitted at the waist before falling loose, brushing her knees when she laughed, the kind of dress you notice because it moves when she does Her hair slips over her shoulder in long waves, framing her in a way that felt deliberate, effortless, and impossible to ignore.

She glowed in a way I’d never seen before, her smile more grounded, more grown, like she wasn’t the fifteen-year-old I’d met eight years ago. I stop near the large mango tree, half-shadowed, unnoticed, while Ma and Jinu trail behind her like they were some secret agents catching the criminal on act. She hadn’t spotted them yet, dabbing at something on her arm with a tissue. And I watch as Ma slowly threads her arms around her, pulling her into a hug “GOTCHU!” Jinu roars, and she gasps, spinning around, eyes wide, surprised and laughing.

For a second, I couldn’t think. My brain fogged and I could only observe them and take in the scene, the beaming faces of my mom and younger brother. She was giggling hysterically, clearly taken aback by them, cheeks flushed, hair catching the bright lights, and the lilac dress swaying with her every movement.

“I missed you so much, Aunty!” she exclaimed, turning around and pulling Ma in a hug, her voice warmer than ever.

“You look like a doll, this dress is stunning on you!” Ma beams, holding her at arm’s length.

“Thank you, Aunty, so do you.” she said timidly.

“Now, where’s that crazy old woman? Take me to her,” Ma insists, looping their arms together.

“Please, she’s been eating my ears off about you being the last to join us today. Honestly, I’m so happy that you came along, Jinu.”

Jinu grinned, nudging her gently. “Huh! I thought you forgot about me.”

She poked his arm, playfully. “As if I could ever!”

And then, for a fraction of a second, her gaze flickered past Jinu, landing on me. I could see her smile falter ever so slightly, a subtle pause, seemingly caught off guard akin to one’s reaction to finding a cardamom in plain rice. But just as quickly, she adjusted it back, smoothing her expression, and turned back to Jinu, still laughing and chatting, completely at ease again while I stay rooted in place, my gaze following the lilac dress untill I couldn’t her anymore.

I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, gave myself a five minute pep talk just enough to tell myself to act normal, breathe, and not obsess over that one damn thing hammering at the back of my mind.

The words full of rage echoing behind my skull.

She likes you. She always has.

I push it away abruptly even before it stubbornly eases its way to my subconscious. This assumption came from a place of insecurity and doubt and the chances of it being a real life scenario is as rare as the grass turning purple.

Yet.

Her avoidance said something else.

OC’S POV

He doesn’t look at me.

Not once.

Not when we all gather to cut the cake.

Not when I hand him the piece of BBQ chicken I’d spent forever picking out, the one I knew he loved. And I hate to admit it but it stings little. A little sting, sharp and unexpected, and I feel guilty for feeling it. I catch myself noticing him anyway, how his shoulders are looser, how his posture finally seems unburdened, healthier than the last time I saw him. The weight that had been dragging him down…gone, or at least lifted enough to see the light in him again. And yet, no matter how hard I try to act normal, to swallow the swirl of emotions coiling in my chest, I can’t. I feel small, overlooked, but also mesmerized. Every subtle movement, the way he laughs with his brother, the tilt of his head when he listens, my mind catalogues it all, silently, like a record I can’t turn off.

I’m aware of the hypocrisy of how I claim to be over him, to treat him like any other person but my pulse betrays me. My gaze lingers. My chest tightens. I’m angry at myself for caring, for noticing, for wanting him to see me, even just for a second. And yet, I can’t stop. I grab a glass of water, trying to steady my nerves. I smile at Jinu who was already making his way towards me.

“Looks like your highness has better things to do than even look at this peasant,” he teased, making me roll my eyes. “Well, my brother’s basically a couch potato, so I can’t rely on him for any damn thing. And you…still being chained to study mechanical engineering, or have you finally managed to escape?” He chuckles, but there’s a faint edge to it, almost weary. “Yeah… escaped it, thankfully. Honestly, this year’s been brutal. A lot of… complicated stuff.” I raise an eyebrow. “Complicated like?”

He leans back, hands still in his pockets, eyes skimming the crowd. “Changed majors, now I’m three years behind which sucks because most of my friends are already doing jobs. And...also a little bit of family drama that took a toll on all of us. Especially… Jungkook. He’s been through a lot.” I shift slightly on my feet, brushing my fingers over the edge of the table. “I hope you’re all doing better now, Jinu.” My voice sounds smaller than I intended as I reassured him. “We are.” He says quietly, but there’s a weight behind it.

I can’t help myself. Afterall It was about him. Curiosity curled tight in my chest, and I stepped a little closer. “What happened to Jungkook? Is he…okay?” Jinu glances around, lowering his voice even though no one’s near. “Crazy ex situation.” I bite my lip, looking down at the table, twisting my fingers to calm the heaviness in my chest.

Did I hear that right?

An “Oh.” was all that left me.

Jinu continued. “Believe me, I’ve never seen him so low in my life. He tried his best hide it and act like it didn’t affect him… but it did. We all could see it killed him.”

“I… didn’t realize it had gotten that bad.” My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. My heartbeat sped up, betraying me, but it wasn’t joy, just this heavy, sinking sense of impending doom that pressed against my ribs and wouldn’t let go.

This is why he was so defeated back in jeju.

He shrugs, faint smile tugging at his lips. “He’s over it now, really. It’s been months. You didn’t see him during all that, did you?”

I shake my head, stomach twisting for another reason. “No… we haven’t talked since, like… 2024.” His smile falters instantly, forehead knitting into a frown, as if what I’d said made no sense at all. “Now…that’s not something I was aware of,” Jinu says, curiosity sharpening his voice.

“What happened between you two?”

I hesitate, weighing my words carefully.

I had no reply for that other than the obvious.

Jinu’s loose lips are legendary, and the last thing I want is my mother or Hanmi Aunty catching even a whisper of my soundless fallout with Jungkook (or rather the porridge I had scattered). I force out a light chuckle, keeping my tone casual. “I was buried in admission tests, back to back, from SNU to Yonsei and your brother was in the military. We just… didn’t stay in touch.”

Jinu nods slowly. “Ah. That explains the shock. I thought you knew.”

I shrug coolly, fingers fidgeting with my white pearl bracelet. Before either of us can say more, my grandpa’s deep voice booms from across the backyard, loud enough to make me almost flinch.

“____! Sweetie quick, your mother’s looking for you.”

I glance his way, catch his eyes as they flick briefly to Jinu before he smiles and motions for me to come over. Then only I look back at Jinu one last time. “Ah, wish we could talk longer,” I say, offering an apologetic smile, though beneath it, as much as I adored Jinu and our friendship, there’s a quiet relief settling in. I needed distance from anything that led back to Jungkook. I needed time to process what I’d just learned.

Jinu only grins a little with that knowing look shining in his bright eyes, and says nothing more. I move off, but my mind keeps drifting back.

Tangled between sorrow and relief, unsure which feeling I’m meant to keep.

The last guests shuffle toward their cars, laughter and chatter fading into the warm night air. Fairy lights flicker above, casting soft glows on empty plates and scattered napkins. I hover near the buffet, scanning the aftermath, everyone’s eaten, complimented the tiramisu, even my mom’s uncle pressed a crisp $500 bill into my hand, praising me like I’d just won a cooking contest. I stood in front of the old mango tree, the rough bark grounding me as my eyes tracked the small cluster near the driveway. Three people, technically, but my focus kept betraying me, narrowing, settling on one specific man. He stepped toward the car, unhurried, opened the passenger door for his mother with the same quiet instinct he’d always had.

And then I saw it.

The five boxes of tiramisu I’d packed earlier, stacked neatly near the gate. Hanmi aunty had tried it. Jinu had too. Almost everyone had.

Except him.

He hadn’t even touched it, though I knew very well that he was a tiramisu lunatic. He would never skip it.

The realization sat heavy in my heart, irrational and sharp all at once, like something small suddenly mattered more than anything at this moment. I grab one of the tiramisu boxes and look up just in time to spot them. His mom and Jinu are already inside the car, doors shut, silhouettes moving as they settle in. He’s still outside, one hand on the open door, the other digging through his pockets like he’s checking for something he’s misplaced. The dome light spills over him briefly, catching his profile, the tired slump of his shoulders. He exhales, slow and quiet, like the night is finally allowed to land on him How could he leave like that? Without even talking to me? Maybe I had always been that irrelevant to him, thus why it was so easy for him to ignore me throughout the entire party. I wish I could ignore him the same way, I wish I could despise him, I wish I didn’t think of him, every second, minute, and hour of the day.

And I don’t know what came over me. It felt really freaking urgent, sudden like missing a train that wouldn’t wait if I hesitated for even a second.

I break into a run, heels clicking sharply against the pavement, lungs burning, heart hammering like it knows something I don’t. Jinu notices me first from the backseat, eyebrows lifting in surprise, while Jungkook is still distracted, eyes down on his phone. I stop just behind him, breath uneven. “I made it,” I utter breathlessly, holding the box out toward him, my voice betraying how fast my pulse is racing. He stiffened mid-step into the car, turning his head, and our eyes meet and for a split second, I’m short on breathe.

He looks at the box, then at me, then back again, as if words might appear on the cardboard if he waits long enough.

We just look at each other until, slowly, he reaches for the box. Our fingers brush for a heartbeat, brief, electric and a shiver slips up my spine. “I… thank you,” he breathes, voice low and rough, like the words had to fight their way out. I become anxiously aware of how near we’re standing. Of how still he is. Of how the space between us feels stretched thin, fragile, like it might snap if either of us moves the wrong way.

Our eyes meet again.

His gaze shifts just slightly. Something in it eases, softens at the edges, like he’s let his guard down by accident. It makes my chest feel tight, unfamiliar. We don’t look away. Not immediately. It’s like we’re both stuck, suspended in that second where neither of us knows how to step back into being normal.

Then—

“Oh, sweetie,” his mother says gently from the passenger seat, her voice warm and practical, breaking the spell without meaning to. “There was no need for this.”

The moment cracks open.

I nod quickly, relief and embarrassment rushing in at once, and take it as my cue. I step around the car, the gravel crunching softly under my shoes, aware– no achingly aware of his eyes following me the entire time. I lean into the open window, smiling despite myself, and kiss his mother’s cheek. “Come visit us sometime later this week, Aunty,” I say softly. She laughs, touched, brushing a hand over mine as I pull back. I turn. He’s still standing there.

For a second, it’s just us again, no noise, no movement. Something unspoken hangs between us, heavy and strange, and neither of us looks away. Then he blinks, almost like he’s startled by his own stillness, and steps back, slipping into the car as if he’s remembered what he’s supposed to do. I glance at his brother in the backseat, who’s smirking a little looking at us. “Good night, Miss Little Chef.” He laughs softly, giving me a flying kiss.

He starts the engine, but I catch his gaze in the rearview mirror. Just him. Watching. Holding. The headlights flare softly as the car begins to roll, obnoxiously slow at first, and his eyes don’t leave mine, not when the tires crunch over the gravel, not when the gate comes into view.

I stay where I am, rooted to the spot, tracking the car as it moves farther away, the glow of the taillights shrinking inch by inch. Even then, I swear I can still feel his gaze, lingering. Only when the car turns the corner and disappears down the road do I finally inhale, deep, shaky because I’ve been holding my breath the entire time without realizing it.

I let it out slowly, chest rising and falling, the night suddenly too eerie, his presence still echoing long after he’s gone.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

JUNGKOOK’S POV.

I drop my keys by the counter, toe off my shoes, shrug out of my jacket without bothering to hang it. The lights stay off, the way I prefer it. Moonlight filters through the wide glass panels, pale and silver, tracing the clean lines of a house I waited months to finish, the one I thought would finally feel full once I moved in.

I pour a beer, the sound too loud in the stillness, and lean back against the island. Take a sip. It was cold and bitter, yet It fails to ground me the way it usually does.

My mind drifts anyway without warning, back to the driveway, to the same old alley that stored years of memories.

Back to the least expected person who ran toward me, holding something she’d made with her own hands. I open the box now. The tiramisu is perfectly layered, each line precise like she’d taken her time with it. The cocoa dusting is even, untouched, and the faint scent of coffee and cream lingers longer than it should. I sit at the dining table instead of the couch, fork in hand, eating slowly. One bite turns into another. It’s delicious, too fucking good. I almost laugh at myself. Sitting here alone, obsessing over a dessert she made. It’s hard to believe she came to me on her own. The last time we met, she barely acknowledged me at all, kept her distance so deliberately it felt like I was the one dragging every interaction out of thin air. So I didn’t push tonight. I kept my space, stayed where I was supposed to, even when instinct told me to do otherwise, that was ____.

There was a moment where I almost slipped, almost but I pulled back, choosing restraint over the risk of making her uncomfortable again.

So I let the moment end where it did, unfinished, quiet, and sitting heavier with me than I expected.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The night is already in motion.

Emails half-answered. Tabs stacked across his screen. Product photos loading, copy being tweaked, new gym tumbler launch, stock numbers steady, website traffic climbing the way it should. It’s 9:20 p.m. exactly. The office has thinned out, the hum quieter now: distant keyboards, the low whirr of the AC, the faint smell of coffee gone stale on his desk.

It feels… normal. Routine. Controlled.

His phone lights up.

He barely glances at it another call he’s ready to silenceuntil the name registers.

Minha Aunty.

He pauses.

That’s… odd because she never calls at night.

He answers before the second ring finishes.

“Jungkook—” Her voice breaks before she can finish his name. She sounds breathless, shaken, like she’s been holding herself together for too long. “I’m so sorry to call you like this.”

He straightens. Pushes his chair back slowly, like sudden movements might break the connection.

“Minha-aunty, it’s okay” he says gently, grounding.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re in Ilsan right now,” she rushes on. “There was an emergency with a relative, we had to leave suddenly. I went to see ____ early this morning. She wasn’t well last night, kept saying it was just a stomach ache and that she’d sleep it off but she looked pale, exhausted. I told her not to brush it aside.”

His chest tightens, sharp and immediate.

“And now?” he frowns.

“She isn’t answering,” Minha aunty says, voice trembling now. “I’ve been calling since morning. No messages, no response. This isn’t like her, Jungkook. She always picks up or at least calls back.”

He’s already on his feet. The chair scrapes loudly behind him. “Okay,” he says, calm on the surface, careful. “Where is she right now?”

“Her apartment, it’s near your office,” she answers quickly, like she’s been holding onto that detail. “Eungam-dong. Haneul View Apartments, eighth floor.”

“It will take me less than 15 minutes Aunty,” he says immediately. No hesitation. “I’m close, I’ll go check on her immediately.”

“Kook…” Minha aunty exhales shakily. “Please. Just… call me when you see her. I’m texting you the password of her door lock.”

“I will call you back,” he assures her and hangs up, already moving.

The elevator ride feels too slow. Each floor crawls past, his mind filling in gaps he doesn’t want to imagine.

____ would’ve answered.

She always does.

By the time he reaches his car, his hands aren’t steady anymore. And that’s when it hits him, quiet, heavy, and unmistakable.

This isn’t nothing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The world narrows until it’s just light and shadow. Shapes blur, edges bending in slow and impossible waves. The hum of the car grows distant, like it’s underwater, vibrating somewhere inside my chest. My body feels impossibly heavy, yet weightless at the same time, like I’m both falling and floating.

My lashes flutter when I feel a presence, a frantic call of my name, hushed but loud at the same time. I drag myself up from the fog of my miserable, barely present consciousness, having lost awareness of my surroundings almost an hour ago.

I reach for something solid, anything, but my hands tremble, slipping through air that refuses to hold me. My vision tilts, then blacks out at the edges, leaving only fragments. The scent hits me first, warm and oh so familiar. Then his face appears, doe eyes wide, chest heaving, strong arms wrap around me like a vice, pulling my limp body up from the floor and lifting me effortlessly against a warm yet sturdy surface; I instinctively lean toward him, chasing his warmth, nuzzling my nose against the silken skin of his neck.

It’s almost scary how real he feels.

I can feel his scent intensifying now. His fingers ghost across my damp hair, brushing strands from my face, a steady pressure against my cheeks that keeps me anchored. Every step he takes, carrying me through the apartment, is careful, urgent, and protective.

The ghost of his hand lingers on my back, pulling me closer, and then finally his face clears through the haze.

It’s him.

Jungkook.

Of course it has to be him. The man whose thoughts have been haunting every room in my head for the last eight years.

I know he isn’t real. At least, in this moment, he isn’t.

“Kook…” is all I can breathe, voice cracking on the syllable. My lips curve into a lopsided smile, eyes bloodshot and half-lidded as they ravish him, but the sharp, unbearable pain in my stomach wipes away the little moment of joy in a heartbeat.

“I got you, ____. Let’s get you to the hospital,” he panics, words rushed and uneven but still firm.

With trembling fingers, I reach for him, the weight of my arm too heavy, yet I manage to cup his cheek. His skin is scorching hot against my cold, clammy one, and I feel him still at my touch, every muscle taut, every heartbeat racing.

“Are you real?” I whisper, breath quivering.

“Am I dying?” I cry, my face scrunching as I pant. “Or… are you just in my head again, the way you always are?”

He shakes his head slightly, pressing me closer, tighter, murmuring low, though I could detect the slight tremble in his voice.. “No. I’m here. You’re here. I’ve got you.”

Your lashes glisten as a tear slips down. “I—I missed you,” I choke, the words wavering as though saying them costs the last of my strength. A sharp, twisting contraction tears through my stomach, hot and unrelenting, making me gasp and double over against him. Every muscle clenches in pain, and it feels like my insides are folding in on themselves. I truly am in agony.

“___—hey, no, no, stay with me. Don’t close your eyes,” Jungkook pleads, his voice softening, almost desperate.

How cruel of the universe, to slip him into my fading consciousness like a final mercy and a final punishment all at once. To let his face be the last thing I saw as the world dimmed, when I was too broken to tell dream from reality.

It wasn’t kindness. It was torment.

And it was unbearably, devastatingly unfair.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He slides his arms fully under you now, lifting you without hesitation like you weighed nothing at all, holding you like he might never let go. His chest presses into yours as he carries you, and you can feel every quiver of panic, every thump of dread, radiating from him.

“You silly,” he rasps, burying his face in your hair, clutching you tighter. “You really think I’d ever let anything happen to you? Not a fucking chance. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay in no time, I promise.”

He doesn’t wait for the elevator to reach the 8th floor, it can go to hell, he bolts for the stairs, each step deliberate and urgent carrying you in his arms.

By the time he reaches the car, he puts you down, heaving, running down eight floors while carrying you had taken its toll, every step leaving him breathless even though you weighed almost nothing. His one arm stays firmly around you, holding you steady, while the other slides the car door open and carefully guides you inside. He never loosens his grip completely, keeping you anchored against him as he helps you settle into the passenger seat.

You whimper softly, eyes hooded, forehead creased in discomfort, but it’s not panic just the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of everything catching up to you.

The edges of your vision start to blur, colors melting into each other, the light dimming until the world narrows to shapes and shadows. Your grip on him weakens as your knees threaten to buckle.

“…No way he’s really here…” Your eyelids feel like lead, thoughts sinking through water. You sag against him, body melting into the warmth of his arms, shivering as every muscle gives in. The last thing you feel is him holding you steady, your head resting against his thigh, his fingers threading through your hair, gentle and grounding, while the engine hums and flares to life around you. It’s a quiet, suspended moment, half panic, half relief, where the world narrows to him and the fragile, aching safety of being cradled entirely in his presence.

wiwi’s note 💌

GOD I have been dragging this for WAY too long 😭 thank you for being patient with me through every delay, every “posting soon” lie, every disappearance, you genuinely deserve the world.… their story actually starts here and im so excited for them. the silent yearning between them is killing me, why's it so indirect and SILENT??? like can they makeout already? like hello, sir, ma’am you two are down bad for each other and have absolutely no clue (they do) anyways ya’ll enjoy it, and NONE YOU DARE LEAVE WITHOUT REVIEW!

taglist 🏷️

Pairings: yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff / strangers to lovers / crack / slight enemies to lovers

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: You met in a movie theatre three years ago, hands accidentally brushing and mumbled sorries underneath your breath. That’s how you meet again for the following month, week and years to come - spilt soda and popcorn and the same mumbled sorries. The only thing you know about each other? ‘She has good taste when it comes to moviees..’ ‘He likes drinking orange Fanta..’

You grow fond of each other, but neither of you would come to admit that - coming by the same old theatre every few weeks just to get a glimpse of each other - hiding behind the desire to watch a movie (even if you’ve watched every single one that is played there).. Then one day, a certain announcement comes: *white noise* And everything comes crashing..

Warnings: none (if you count lots of popcorn munching as one)

A/N: I was going to bring out Vampire Yoon on Yoon’s birthday, but the fic was getting longer and longer - I really don’t think it will end anytime soon.. So, here we are.. A different fic on the way.. @jayhopely @mochajoon Enjoy!!! - And yes, this is my second time making banners on canva.. Happy Belated Birthday, Min Yoongi :] I’m so late, but as the saying goes: ‘Better late than never!’

a short jimin ff <3 please interact with this post, ty !!

. Requests are open but do note that I only write fluff and angst.

. Please ignore any grammatical errors or mistakes. I don't usually proofread.

. Please refrain from plagiarism and copying my work. If inspired to my work, please DO credit me always.

. To beat the algorithm, interact with this post by liking, commenting, and sharing. Thank you if you would do that.

. Before you read this, please note that everything in this is NOT real and all fictional. This is based on my imagination and entertainment purposes only. If you don't want to read, please feel free to scroll and leave this. I hope you enjoy this!

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A/N pov - You, Park Y/N is an employee and the executive assistant of the boss and CEO of Park Enterprises, Park Jimin who is also your husband. You got married to him a year ago, You two first met as co-workers only. Same positions until now, you’re the assistant while he’s the boss. Eventually you both fell in love and got married in a mean time.

Everyone at the company knew you two are married since you two publicly announced that both of you got married around 2 months after the wedding.

Time check : 10:45 PM

You are currently arranging the files to be prepared for a presentation tomorrow led by your husband Jimin. You were tired and exhausted already since you did a lot of works today and finished your company report to your boss by tonight which is also Jimin. Now that you are finished with the last arrangements and revisions, you walked to Jimin’s office.

Time skip... 11:00 PM

You finally got into the floor which Jimin’s office is located in. You walked through and opened the door of the office and greeted him,

“Good evening Mr. Park, here is the company report of this month’s analytics based on my research, Sir.” I said and closed the door behind me. I then gave the papers on his desk. He nodded as a ‘thank you’ to me.

He answered while his own eyes met with mine -

“Y/N, you don’t have to be formal with me, especially I’m your husband”

“Jimin, we’re still at work, I have to be formal and you should too as you are the CEO.” I replied back.

Jimin got up from his seat and looked at me,

“Y/N baby, I’m your husband and I have the right to be with my wife freely, it’s just the both of us now besides it’s not like our marriage is a secret to all anymore” His eyes soften as he said his statement to me.

I sighed, “I’m sorry Jimin.. It’s probably just I’m tired now, sorry” 

My body wanted to rest or take a nap but you couldn’t still, you have to finished some of your left works which are already due next week plus, you didn’t want to disappoint Jimin in any way as he is your husband and boss.

“Love, don’t be sorry, It’s just we don’t have to act as co-workers always, I want us to be the married couple we chose to be. I love you, Park Y/N, I really do. So you should get some rest for tonight, I’ll be the one who will prepare for tomorrow.” He stated to me while smiling softly.

“But- Jimin, I have to do those because I need to and those are my-” He cut me off.

“That’s my order to you, Y/N. Get some rest and sleep, you need it. You deserve it. For being the most hard-working wife that I’m very grateful to have. I’ll take you home now so you can rest then” 

“Oh, ah.. thank you Jimin.” I thanked him.

“Of course, I love you, Mrs. Park.” He walked up to me and pecked my lips a few times. I also answered between the pecks.

↳ pairing seokjin x you

↳ genre domestic, fluff, slice of life, heir!seokjin, husband!seokjin, established relationship

↳ words 2.7k

↳ summary again seokjin’s conglomerate family comes in between your marriage, but this time, seokjin will not stay silent

↳ song lauv ‘love like that’

↳ author’s note the 7-day writing challenge continues with seokjin! <3

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Blanket rustling. A hand clamored on the vibrating alarm. A silhouette of a broad shoulder of a man sat awake on the edge of the bed, clicking his neck right and left. Seokjin rubs the back of his neck. He slid the indoor slippers on, walked wobbly around the king-sized bed, leaving the striped curtain down for his wife to sleep longer. Hand on the knob to the bathroom, he splashes water on his face. With the tips of his hair wet, he brushed his teeth. The morning always begins the same way from Seokjin. He is up by 6am, he does all his morning necessities, plants a kiss on the wife’s cheek and checks out the daughter in the next room. Once he has gotten a good look and the situation is unalarming, he proceeds to the kitchen. He looked at a post-it note placed on the fridge door, and today, his wife wanted to take kimchi fried rice with egg to the office for lunch.

Easy. I can do that. He thought.

these stories may be read independently, but it is recommended you go in order!

Illegirl

→ jimin x reader | f/c/a | teacher!au

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda... but when life throws you curveballs, it is what it fucking is.

READ HERE

You & Me Both

→ jimin x reader | a/f | est. relationship!au

→ summary: Damn right, you peaked in high school. It’s true, seven years later, things just aren’t the same between you and Jimin. And you know exactly why. One teensy weensy problem though: ᴶⁱᵐⁱⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ.

READ HERE

143

→ jimin x reader | f/c | text!au

→ summary: Not to get all philosophical, but life is literally just a rollercoaster from start to finish. And you’re happy to say that you’ve been cruisin’ at the top for a while now. Who knows when you’ll hit rock bottom again? You’ve gotta live that nice life while it lasts. It’s just a question of who will join your fun... 

A night like this was a night to remember. A night where everything was fine. Things were okay, the calmness of the weather brought a soothing touch to the gathering that night. People talked around you, and you listened to their mumbling conversations mindlessly as you looked into the dark. The blackness followed through and through because no matter how far you looked it was a dark and dense route forward. 

The clinking of bottles, the small fits of laughter and quiet giggles, it was just the kind of evening where nothing was amiss. 

“I heard you just started part timing” your best friend piped next to you. 

With a slow turn of your head towards him you cracked a small smile, “Yeah you know the coffee shop near campus.”

“It’s bound to be filled with our lecturers and students. Do they ever recognize you?” 

“I mean it’s not a huge deal. Sometimes they just nod in acknowledgement or they ask me about the course I’m doing. How come you never stop by?” you teased by poking at his shoulder. 

“I mean don’t I get to see enough of your stupid face every day?” he teased back. 

“Taehyung!” you exclaimed.

He let out his usual cheeky laughter and slung an arm around your shoulder. “I’m joking, y/n, you should know better.”

“So tell me then, why don’t you show up there?”

“It’s because Yun doesn’t like coffee.” he shrugs. 

“What a sweet boyfriend...” you cooed. “If only you were that sweet to your bestie.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in question, “I’m an amazing best friend and you know it.” 

“Not really no.” you pursed your lips comically. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes and then sat up in his plastic chair making it squeak slightly. 

“Actually, maybe I haven’t been such a great friend lately.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and then your eyebrows knit in confusion. 

“Tae, I was just kidding-”

“I haven’t set you up with anyone yet.”

There it was again. You’ve been best friends with Taehyung since elementary school, and ever since you rejected his confession in 2nd grade, for some reason he’s been trying to set you up with all the guy friends he could possibly have. You wanted a best friend, not a wingman. However he was pretty good at being both. 

“Seriously? Tae, you of all people should know I don’t need a boyfriend right now.”

“Well why not? No offense, y/n, but I can’t exactly make out with Yun when you’re third wheeling.”

You huffed and crossed your arms. Taehyung was right, you did third wheel with them a lot and you did feel bad about it but honestly you didn’t have anyone you knew well enough to hang out with. 

“I know tons of guys now! Our campus has a lot of potential mates.” he said grinning. 

“Potential mates? What am I? An elephant?” you laughed. “Don’t say it like that.”

Taehyung chuckled, “You know what I mean. So what do you say?”

“I don’t know, Tae. Relationships are complicated, why do you think I’m stuck with you? It’s because I have no idea how to form relationships with anyone else. You were the only person who liked being around my dumb ass.”

It’s true, you don’t know what you would have done without Taehyung by your side. He was your only true friend throughout your years of school together. Through Taehyung you met some of his other great friends like Namjoon and Hoseok, both of which were total sweethearts. But the two of them moved to different cities for University, so you couldn’t really fly all the way to America to hang out with your friends every single time. 

You did have your share of friends throughout high school and college but none of them shared a bond with you like the one you and Taehyung had. It’s still surprising how he’s let you hang onto him for so long, and how he’s not tired of you yet. 

“y/n, you’re freaking amazing okay? Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, and to have you as their girlfriend, that person would have had the luck of finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.” Taehyung said seriously. 

“Maybe the pot of gold part is a little far fetched.” you giggled. 

“What I’m saying is, relationships form naturally and you shouldn’t force it. If you like the person and they like you it’s a win win. If not just wave them goodbye and move on. Pleasee, y/n, I already know the perfect guy for you. He’s at the top of my list.”

“You have a list?” you scoffed.

“Yes and I put a lot of thought and effort into it so you should maybe let me give it a shot.”

You sighed, “Alright fine, who’s this ‘perfect guy’?”

“Wait and see.” Taehyung smirked. 

_________________________________________

The sound of your fingers drumming against the table was only making you more anxious. Taehyung refused to tell you who this guy was and you only hoped that things wouldn’t be awkward. You didn’t even know his name for god’s sake. What were you supposed to say to him when you meet? Just “Hi”? It would sound like you weren’t trying. Or maybe you could introduce yourself? But wouldn’t that be too formal considering that the two of you were students?

Whatever, like Taehyung said, if it works, it works. You exhaled and checked the time on your phone. This guy was five minutes late but it was no big deal, he was probably on his way. Looking around you, there weren’t many people at the cafeteria. Just students minding their own business, heads buried in their textbooks and craning their necks to focus on laptop screens. The longer you waited, the longer it made you feel like you didn’t want to do this. 

Soon, the place was getting a little crowded since it was around lunchtime. You had no idea why Taehyung would set you up on a date in a god damn cafeteria but it’s not like you cared enough to want to go someplace more romantic or anything. The guy was twenty minutes late now and it started to get on your nerves. Countless number of people have been eyeing the spot in which your bag sat comfortably. You really didn’t want to seem rude by hogging all the space but you had a date and he couldn’t exactly sit on the floor next to you. 

Another twenty minutes passed and you decided that this wasn’t happening. As you unlocked your phone to text Taehyung you saw from the corner of your eye someone standing in front of you. You looked up immediately and you were met with the kindest pair of doe eyes. He smiled awkwardly, yet it was cute. His index finger tapped nervously on the tray of food he was holding and his bag slung on one shoulder was on the verge of slipping off onto the seat in front of you. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you but is this seat taken?” he asked politely. 

“U-Uh, no it’s um, no it’s not.” you stammered. You got up and fumbled with your stuff on the opposite seat, moving it to your side. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hog the place it’s just I was expecting someone but he didn’t show up so.” you explained. “Yeah, I was just about to leave anyway so you can have the table.”

You saw his eyes widen as he set the tray down on the table. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you don’t need to leave we can share the table if you’d like.” he insisted. 

You shook your head and smiled softly, “It’s alright.” 

He sent you a shy smile back and stood while you gathered your things. 

“Um, could I ask you something?” he said suddenly. 

You looked at him surprised and nodded. “Sure.”

“Would you happen to know someone called Taehyung?” he asked. 

You relaxed slightly and let out a small laugh. “Yeah, he’s my best friend. How do you know him?”

The really cute guy in front of you looked excited to hear your answer. 

“We’re in the same art class. He talks about you a lot, and I’ve seen you on his lock screen. You must be y/n, then.” 

“I am.” you replied, feeling touched that Taehyung mentioned you a lot. 

“Oh, shit I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Jungkook.” he said extending his arm towards you. 

You smiled and shook his hand lightly. His hands were big and soft as they enveloped yours nicely. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.” you said. 

“The pleasure’s mine.” he said so formally, you almost let out a chuckle.

You could see clearly the embarrassment through his features. He was so adorable you just wanted to kiss him. Wait what?

“I-I should go.” you said snapping back into reality. 

Jungkook nodded and handed you your bottle that was on the table as you shrugged on your bag. 

“Thanks.” you said and he let out another sweet smile you began to adore. 

“I’ll see you around.” he said waving you off. 

____________________________________________

You had just gotten stood up. So why does it feel like you have butterflies in your stomach? The moment you stepped foot into your dorm, Taehyung bombarded you with questions. 

“So did you like him?”

“What about his number, did you get his number?”

“Did you think he was hot? I tried to get someone with that kind of hair because I know that’s what you like.”

“Holy shit, wait, did you kiss? Hold hands? Flirt?”

“Dammit woman, why aren’t you saying anything?”

You chucked a pillow at Taehyung’s direction to which he exclaimed in protest.

“The stupid ‘perfect guy’ you sent didn’t even show up.” you said. 

You saw his expression fall, and in a second he was next to you and pulling you to his chest so tight you couldn’t breathe. 

“Oh shit, y/n, I’m so sorry I had no idea. But why the hell would he do that? What an asshole, god, I’m gonna kick his ass the next time I see him. Don’t think too much about it, y/n, he’s an insensitive prick and he’s missing out. Just remember that you’re beautiful and smart and kind and you’re the whole freaking package okay? I’ll make sure I find a guy who makes you see that.”

“Tae-” you gasped.

“Yes, I know those were very touching words but there’s no need to get sentimental-”

“You idiot you’re crushing me.”

“Oh, oops.” he mumbled as he released you from his grasp. 

You heaved and lay back against the sofa while Taehyung looked at you in concern. 

“y/n, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.”

“It’s okay, Tae. You were just trying to help. I’m not too shaken up about it anyway.” you shrugged.

“Really?” he questioned. “How long did he make you wait for?”

“Nearly an hour.” you replied casually.

“He’s in for it.” Taehyung grumbled. 

Taehyung noticed you weren’t yourself, you were distracted by something as you kept playing with a strand of hair and staring straight ahead of you. 

“y/n, you sure you’re okay?” he asked again. 

“Who’s Jungkook?” you asked suddenly. 

Taehyung frowned in confusion at the sudden change of topic. 

“Jungkook? Like Jeon Jungkook?” he repeated. 

“His last name’s Jeon?” you inquired. 

“What-but why? I mean how did you-” Taehyung stuttered trying to figure out why you were asking about one of his good friends. 

“Jeon Jungkook, tell me more about him.” you said facing Taehyung now. 

“Well he’s in my art class and we’re pretty good friends. He’s the same age as me, which means he’s a year older than you. He’s studying performing arts and music. He’s on the track and field team. He’s pretty much an all rounder. He sings for the choir as well. And he- y/n why the hell are your eyes sparkling?”

You frowned, “They’re not.”

“Do you have a crush on Jeon Jungkook?” Taehyung smirked. 

“I don’t!” you refused. 

“Then what are you asking about him for?”

“Well I met him today and I was just curious that’s all.”

“Oh you did?” Taehyung asked surprised. 

“Yeah, I was about to leave the cafeteria when he approached me. He asked if I knew you, and apparently you talk about me a lot.” you smirked. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I love you, so? Is that a problem?”

“Aww,” you cooed and gave him a hug. Taehyung sighed and patted your back lightly, “Don’t get used to it.” he mumbled. 

“I just thought that he’s cute.” you said softly. 

“You wouldn’t be the first though, y/n. He’s got a long waiting list filled with all kinds of girls around campus.” Taehyung said. 

You frowned and sighed, “Yeah well, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But lucky for you, he’s good friends with your best friend. So I could totally paint the perfect picture of you for him.” he said proudly. 

“You’d really do that?” you asked. 

“This is the first guy you’ve liked in years. And he’s a great guy too! I totally approve.” Taehyung nodded. 

“Okay, dad.” you mocked. 

“Ooh, I could let him know you have a daddy kink.” he mused.

“No!”

___________________________________________________

“Over here!” you heard a familiar voice yell.

Customers sent glares at the direction of your best friend for being obnoxiously loud and you giggled as you walked over to the table. Taehyung and Jungkook were sitting together and they looked at you as you sat down. Taehyung had purposely nudged you hard to sit next to Jungkook almost making you fall over but Jungkook’s hands instinctively caught yours. 

“Careful.” Jungkook warned softly, the two of you staring at each other with red cheeks. 

Taehyung only smirked, enjoying the situation. You sat next to Jungkook while shooting a glare at your best friend. 

“So how was your day, y/n?” Taehyung asked as a conversation starter. 

“Pretty good, I had classes only in the afternoon so I woke up a little later.” you replied. 

“Yeah, y/n sleeps like a log. I literally have to whack her with a pillow to get her to get up in the morning.” Taehyung teased. 

Jungkook laughed softly next to you, and at this moment you wished your best friend would disappear. 

“I’m a heavy sleeper too. My roommate had to flip my mattress over to get me out of bed.” Jungkook said making you and Taehyung laugh. 

Jungkook’s shoulders were so broad, that when you sat next to him, his sides were brushing against yours the entire time. 

“I’ll go get us drinks. Are you guys getting your usuals?” Taehyung asked standing up. 

You nodded along with Jungkook, and as soon as Taehyung disappeared you regretted wishing that earlier. The situation was pretty tense, sexually tense.

“It’s crazy how he knows us so well.” Jungkook said to break the ice. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a people person.” you replied smiling. 

“I heard you guys go way back.” Jungkook asked as he shifted his body to face you. You could make out his defined chest from underneath his black shirt. You pulled your gaze away from there as quickly as you could to his face. Bigger mistake. All you could do was focus on his lips, how kissable they looked. 

“Y-yeah, elementary school.” you said quickly looking away. The table was your friend as you shifted your gaze there. 

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. You’re lucky you came into University with such a close friend. When I first started out here, I was clueless. I literally had no one to turn to. Taehyung was the only one who offered to help.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure someone would have offered to help you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, “I sat through an entire class on Advanced Functions, because I was too much of a pussy to tell the teacher I was in the wrong class.”

That made you laugh heartily, and Jungkook smiled fondly at your reaction. 

“You could have just walked out you know.” you said still laughing.

“I didn’t wanna be rude. Plus the teacher complimented my outfit.” he said laughing along with you. 

“She complimented your outfit? Wow, even the teachers are crushing on you.”

“What?” Jungkook asked cringing slightly. 

“Well literally everyone likes you, I couldn’t believe why you found it tough around here.”

“You think everyone likes me?” he asked surprised. 

“You’re good looking, smart, polite, and you do sports. What’s not to like?”

You said that all too soon. The moment you ended your sentence you were too afraid to look at Jungkook’s face. 

“You think I’m good looking?” he asked, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I said other things too.” you mumbled.

Jungkook chuckled, turning his gaze away from you to the table. 

“Thanks, I-I um....I think you’re-”

“Drinks!” Taehyung chimed in before Jungkook could finish his sentence.

Jungkook sighed and tilted his head to the side in a quick move and returned to it’s original position, a habit of his that you’ve noticed. 

“Here you go.” Jungkook said handing you your latte and then reaching out for his overly-sweet looking frappucino.

“Never took you for the kind of guy who digs sugar, Jeon.” Taehyung said. 

Jungkook shrugged and took a sip. “I need the calories. Plus it tastes so freaking good, wanna try?” Jungkook offered to Taehyung. 

“Sure why not.” Taehyung said as he took the cup and had a sip. 

You saw Taehyung’s eyes light up like christmas tree lights, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the wonderful taste or the sugar rush.

“It’s good!” he said. 

Jungkook smiled, “Told ya.”

And then the moment after that was awkward as hell. Jungkook didn’t know if it was too much to offer you his drink, considering that he (and Taehyung) but he drank from it. He would love to share a drink with you, considering he has a big fat crush towards you but he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Would you uh...you wanna...? I-I mean do you wanna sip a try? I mean-fuck.” he stuttered.

That made you and Taehyung laugh out loud. It also made you find Jungkook then times cuter. 

“Would you wanna try a sip?” Jungkook said finally, his cheeks pink. 

“If you don’t mind, yeah.” you answered shyly. 

He smiled and held the drink towards you. You held the cup, but Jungkook didn’t let go. Instead he pushed the drink closer to your face and held the cup for you as you took a drink. Taehyung was having a parade on the inside because he was so happy that the two of you were getting along and he melted at how cute you guys were. 

“Oh you’re right, it is good. But wayyy to sweet for me.” you said as Jungkook retracted his hand.

“I don’t think anything could be sweeter than you, though.” Jungkook said so softly, yet you and Taehyung heard it. 

You froze, not knowing how to react. You felt a tingling sensation rush through your veins and your heart swelling. 

“I’m gonna go make a call.” Taehyung cleared his throat and excused himself. 

When Taehyung left, Jungkook had a look of guilt on his face. 

“I-I didn’t mean to make things awkward.” he said apologetically. 

“You didn’t.” you reassured. “And I think flirty Jungkook is cute.” you laughed. 

He smiled, “Cute, huh? I’ll take it.”

______________________________________________

The keys clattered against one another as you shoved the master key into your apartment door. It was really hot outside and all you wanted was some cold air. Shutting the door with a thud, you walked to your room to get changed into some comfy clothes. Taehyung wasn’t home yet because he was out with his girlfriend Yun on a date. So without closing your room door, you slipped your shirt off and began rummaging through your closet. When you turned around to place the clothes onto your bed, you met with a figure standing at your door. 

You shrieked and immediately grabbed a shirt to cover your upper half. Let’s just thank the heavens you still had pants on. 

“Jungkook?!” you exclaimed. 

“S-Sorry, sorry! Taehyung gave me keys and asked me to let myself in because I needed to use his laptop and I didn’t know-”

“J-Just close the door!” you huffed. 

He nodded and immediately shut the door. You sighed in relief and quickly changed into a t-shirt and sweats before opening the door again. Jungkook was on the couch talking to himself softly, and stopped to look at you when you emerged from the room. 

“Hey, listen I’m really sorry-” he started. 

“It’s okay, I should have closed the door anyway.” you said embarrassed. 

“I didn’t mean to stare.” he said sheepishly. 

“You stared?” you asked in disbelief. 

“I-I mean, it was only for a little bit. I-I couldn’t take my eyes off you- wait no! I mean it was rude of me to stare but I couldn’t help- I’m really bad at this.” he huffed. 

You giggled, “It’s...fine.” 

“Just so you know, I don’t do this often.” he clarified. 

“I would be afraid if you did, Jeon.” you teased. 

He smiled and patted the space next to him. “I got some snacks and dvds. I was planning to do some work but I’m lazy right now.”

He had a pillow over his lap, and you didn’t want to believe that it was what you thought it was but, at the same time you were ecstatic to know that Jeon Jungkook had a boner because of you. 

Lazy, huh? More like he didn’t wanna get up because you’d spot something obvious. 

“Oh, cool. What do you wanna watch?” you asked.

“Well, I have Iron Man, Iron Man 2, Iron Man 3-” 

You giggled, “Big Tony fan I see.”

He smiled proudly, “Of course. Tony’s the best.”

“My favourite Avenger is Spiderman.” you said. 

“Is it because-”

“Tom Holland, yes.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes playfully, “Literally every girl I know is head over heels for that guy.”

“He’s cute!” you defended. 

“Spiderman is not cute, he’s cool.” Jungkook retorted. 

“He’s both.” you finalised. 

Jungkook pursed his lips and then sighed, “Fine. But he is cooler than he is cute.”

“No way!” you exclaimed making Jungkook laugh. 

“You know y/n, I really like you.” he said suddenly, his eyes looking into yours. 

You were taken by surprise at that. “I really like you too.” you replied smiling. 

“You do?” he said breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” you said shyly. 

“Great because uh...I need your help.” he mumbled, slowly removing the pillow from over his lap. 

Your eyes widened at the sight, making your cheeks flush. Jungkook was also blushing and waiting for your response. 

“So what do you say-mmph-” you cut him off by pressing your lips onto his. 

His hands circled your waist and his lips moved slowly but passionately against yours. The wet sounds formed by the pressing of your lips made you squirm. Jungkook slowly pushed you back onto the sofa, letting his tongue take dominance over yours. You moaned softly when his hips applied pressure onto yours. You bucked your hips up, making Jungkook let out a strangled groan. He pulled away, breathing heavily. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” he whispered. 

“Then what are you waiting for.” you whined. 

He smirked and then leaned forward to press hot kisses onto your neck. From then on, he had his way with you. 

_____________________________________________

“He drove me today.” you said, and Yun looked at you with dreamy eyes. 

“He’s perfect, y/n. Taehyung makes me walk 10 miles everyday saying that I need some vitamin D.” she complained.

“Hey, it’s good for you!” Taehyung defended. 

“He made me cycle once, and it was raining. Can you believe that?” Yun whispered to you. 

“Wow, great going, Tae. You know, Yun, I heard our senior Park Jimin is single.” you joked. 

“He is pretty hot.” Yun agreed. 

“Are you kidding me? I am not losing you to stupid that stupid Park guy. Yuuuun, come on.” Taehyung whined. 

“He has a pretty cool car too, he’d drive you any day.” you added. 

“Oh my~” Yun gasped as she played along. 

“y/n, get out of here! Stop giving her ideas.” Taehyung grumbled. 

Taehyung’s sulky face got you and Yun laughing hard. 

“What’s so funny?” you heard a familiar voice say. 

Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned down to give you a kiss on your lips. 

“Hi Kook” you smiled. 

“Hey, baby.” he replied smiling back. 

“Dammit, Tae! Why can’t we be cute like that?” Yun huffed. 

“Of course we can! Watch.” Taehyung said and pulled Yun into his arms. 

“Hey baby.” he said with his sexy, made-up accent. 

“Ew okay, gross. y/n, where can I find Jimin?” Yun joked. 

Everyone laughed except Taehyung. “Baaaaaaaaabe” he groaned. 

“Oh shut up, Tae. Of course I love you, you goof.” Yun giggled. 

“So when are we gonna tell him?” Jungkook whispered into your ear. 

You blushed and smacked his chest lightly. “Like, never.” you said. 

“Why baby? Are we not going to let him know we had amazing sex on his favourite couch?” Jungkook teased. 

“Jungkook!” you gasped. “Cut it out.”

“So what did you guys do yesterday?” Taehyung asked you and Jungkook. 

Jungkook only smirked and you had to clap a hand over his mouth. He poked out his tongue to lick your hands and you cringed, wiping it on him. 

“Don’t be disgusted, y/n. We all know my tongue has been in places far more-”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

_______________________________________________ end

This was a bit rushed but, overall I hope you guys liked it! 

280717

Rated G Relationships: Kim Taehyung | V / Min Yoongi | Suga AU: Canon Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Soft!Yoongi, Mild Angst, Sad, Happy ending, lowkey based on Rain by BTS

Summary:

Rain.

They haven’t had rain like this in years. Storm clouds as dark as the feathers on pigeons that roamed the street during the day, absurdly strong winds that sang a duet with the pattering of raindrops on rooftops, lightning lighting up the sky just like how fireworks would. Except there were no fireworks, no pigeons and no singing. It’s just darkness consuming the streets, a flimsy excuse for a shelter above his head, and a red bar on his phone’s battery display.

genre: fluff pairing: jungkook x reader summary: in which your snapstreak with hoseok is in danger because he decided to go without internet access for ten days but he hires someone to maintain his streak words: 1.9k

read on ao3 // previous chapters

day nine

There’s nothing more comforting than a casual stroll in the park at six in the morning. Jungkook is never a morning person — hell, he’d sleep all day if he could — but somehow or rather, he finds solace in the quiet park with the occasional jogger whom he’d politely nod towards. He glances at his phone, scrolling through the pointless twitter notifications and super likes he got from tinder, and sighs.

Why does it feel like he’s in the awkward segment where it’s almost the end but yet the end is still so far?

One more day till Hoseok comes back means one more day left with you. Jungkook scoffs. Who in their right mind would fall for someone whom they met on snapchat no less? Pictures of nothing and weird texts that he can’t seem to follow up when the chat ends for the night. He stares at the little kissing emoji which indicates that you and Hoseok are Super BFFs. What is he to you? Simply someone to keep you company while her best friend is somewhere else? Someone to maintain snap streaks with?

His questions remain unanswered when a dog suddenly runs up to him and starts sniffing his legs. Jungkook laughs, kneeling down and ruffling its ears.

“Holly!”