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lacielre · 4 years

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whiskey neat & whisking trips, 1

summary this is a story about the night you poured your heart out to your ex outside his apartment building as a stranger yelled at you to “shut the fuck up,” and that stranger, who was just as wounded as you, was taehyung, and he needed your help.

pairing taehyung/reader, seokjin/reader

genre fake/pretend relationship, post-breakup, infidelity, veterinarian!taehyung, baker!oc, an attempt to comedy, pillow-screaming fluff, eventual smut

rating mature

warnings some angsty shit and HUGE fluff, some real cute stuff in here

parts prologue, 1

“You?” You stomped the bottom of the glass onto the wooden counter, lips still trembling.

“A bit.” He offered you a small smile and a shrug.

From then on, you had nothing else to say. Granted, you weren’t on the best mood but you were also certain that you were pretty friendly and able to actually talk before this particular moment of your life. But your trembling lips could only offer and do so much.

It took you pints of courage to lock stares with the man beside you, a seat apart. Even with the haze in your sight, you were sure he was good-looking, and with the way his brows furrowed away from his circular, glassy eyes, you had dared to call him innocent-looking.

You gripped your blanket tightly. “Um, c-can you,” your breath was shaking, “c-can you—is it okay if-if you continue talk—shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, urging you to continue.

“It just looked like you were waiting for me to say something,” you were able to say, albeit sluggishly. “And I… I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Let’s start with names,” was his respectful nudge.

It made you chuckle with slight movement; lips barely curling upwards, and eyes barely smiling. “Are you hitting on me?” you asked weakly, almost comically, mostly sarcastically. “Because if you are, I haven’t showered.”

“I-uh, well, I’m just asking. I can go first.” He flashed a tight smile before emptying his drink in one swift shot with his head shooting back. He finished it with a hiss as he extended his hand to you. “I’m Taehyung.”

You let loose a faint smile to return his but failed to level the same intensity. “_____,” was your unsure introduction, taking a few seconds to push yourself to the edge and accept his hand finally. Like a normal person would.

“I’d ask you out for real but you look like—” shit, you thought, “—you’d rather just—I don’t know? Talk?”

“I have a hard time believing good-looking guys,” you spat, eyes turning into slits as you downed your drink.

Taehyung let out a chuckle. “Well, I got your name. I thought we were already through that stage.”

You blinked blankly, then again, multiple times before finally unlocking your gaze from his and shaking your head. You called out, “Yoongi!”

And he was already in front of you in a matter of seconds.

It made you sigh, one that resembled your self-pity.

You hoped Seokjin would appear in front of you like that. In just a matter of seconds at one call. But he was no longer someone who you could even call. And again, your lips were trembling uncontrollably, but you managed. You had to.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Yoongi asked, not even masking confidentiality.

Taehyung eyes widened. “No—I’m—”

“Her call,” Yoongi interrupted on a dot, disregarding Taehyung’s rebuttal.

With teary eyes and a snuffle, you turned to the newly-met stranger and shook your head. “No, we’re g-good. I-I’m good.” You wished it were true. “Could you just leave a bottle here?”

Your friend eyed Taehyung’s appearance before nodding to you. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re the best.”

The bottle was served to your front in a smooth friction of its bottom against the wood. You looked up to see Yoongi shaking his head.

“This is gonna be a long night,” Yoongi muttered under his breath.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all good.” He gripped two hands on the blanket over each side of your neck, clutching it nearer and tighter to your body. “Tell me if you need anything.”

You nodded, taking charge of closing the blanket around your neck before his grip left. Yoongi strode away but not without taking a long gaze at Taehyung.

On a much brighter side, you supposed, you had good friends.

Fuck Seokjin.

Shifting your body to Taehyung who had kept his eyes on you apparently, you noticed he wasn’t at all in a happy mood either. Concern wasn’t the sole glitter present in his eyes; glumness was too. Fuck, being sad must’ve given you powers to determine stuff like that.

“Wanna sit next to me and share this bottle?” was your brazen request.

“Yes, please,” Taehyung said with much appreciation.

So, he did, taking his glass with him.

While pouring a drink on his glass, you started quietly, “My boyfriend broke up with me.” Once you hit the right amount of liquid, you continued, “I know I look dramatic but well… I guess I am a bit dramatic.”

Just as you were about to pour yourself a drink, he stole the neck of the bottle from your hand and poured for you instead.

“I guess we’ve all been dramatic at some points in our lives,” Taehyung agreed.

The breath huffed from your lungs was enough of an answer, an evident disbelief. “Err, I don’t think it’s the same,” you probed. “Anyway, he was my boyfriend of six years.”

“Shit.” His eyes turned wide.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me, too.” You took a big gulp of your beverage, committed to drinking your heart out. “Six years.”

“How do people even stay together for six years?”

You humored him. “I know.” And your lips trembled again as your mind took a short and swift trip to your memories, then back to the grunge aesthetic of this place. “F-Fuck, I kno-ow.” You sighed slowly, trying to suppress tears from brimming your eyes. “But well,” you shrugged, “six years all went to shit now.”

Taehyung wasn’t moving. He was all ears.

There was no assurance to how much tears you could extract from your tear glands in one night, but each time your lips quivered and tears started to brim your vision, you could almost laugh at yourself for still having the drive to do so.

You shook your head faintly.

Just when you thought you had enough. You kept proving yourself wrong. Over and over again.

“Please, ask me things,” you urged. “I’ll pour my heart out and wish we never meet again. Ever.”

He laughed at that but he complied, seriousness suddenly back to him. “Do you know why he broke up with you?”

“H-He said he just doesn’t love me anymore.” You swallowed. “Isn’t love—it so crazy? One point, you’re together, daydreaming about the future. Then the next, he’s just not feeling the same way as you do. That’s so crazy to me.”

“Well. It is to me too,” Taehyung said after letting the burn of alcohol seep to his throat.

“Right?” You chuckled darkly, nodding slightly. “Six years. Only for me to find out t-that—that it’s not just that he didn’t love me anymore. He was also s-sleeping with other girls during the time we’re together. Hoo-fucking-ray.”

“Holy shit,” was Taehyung’s feigned genuine reaction.

“I know,” you said, as if all-knowing. You cleared your throat. “How ‘bout you, huh? What’s your story?”

“Did this face give that away?” Taehyung teased.

“C’mon,” you pressed. “We—” you gestured at the space between you and him as you giggled at the silliness “—are connecting.”

He joined your laughter. “Okay,” he inhaled a sharp breath, “my ex-fiancé is getting married in a month.”

You squeezed your eyes shit. “What the hell…”

Now, it was his time to say, “I know.”

“You still love ‘em?” you asked.

“Nah.” Taehyung shook his head.

Your brow raised at his answer. “Nah? As in no?”

He laughed at the purity of tone in your question. “I’m just bummed that I’m nowhere close to where she is. It’s been almost a year. She’s getting married while I’m right where she left me.”

“And she invited you to her wedding?”

He nodded.

“What a fucking bitch,” you senselessly mumbled, making Taehyung chuckle.

“And yours is an asshole, a bastard, and a son of a bitch,” he blurted out carelessly.

Your eyes widened as soon as he stopped speaking. “W-Where did you hear that? I used to practice that in front of the mirror.”

“Um,” he prolonged, “w-wild guess?”

“Fuck. Oh, my God. I’m so dumb.”

“What? Wait-what, why?”

“Not a word!” you threatened, raising a finger to him. “See, this is why I don’t wanna trust good-looking strangers!”

“What—”

“You followed me here to take advantage of a crying girl outside an old apartment building!” You were in a middle of a revelation. “And you’re here, getting me drunk? T-To what?”

“Okay, you’re getting the wrong idea,” Taehyung defended himself calmly, raising his palms across his shoulders. “I’m not here to take advantage of you—”

“Then why follow me here?” you asked sharply. “Say one wrong word and I’ll scream. I swear to fucking God. I’ll fucking call Yoo—”

“Iwastheonewhoyelledatyoutoshutthefuckup.”

“What?”

“I was the one,” he sighed, “who yelled at you to shut the fuck up.”

“On a vulnerable, crying girl outside an old apartment building?” you rephrased with eyes narrowed down to slits, judging him. “Fuck.”

“I swear, I’m not—a bad guy. Well, not entirely,” he continued. “But I did feel bad about it.”

You chewed your bottom lip, staring at his fidgeting intently; the way his hands moved from the counter, clung to his shirt, turned into fists on his lap, and gripped his drink before hitting the three-second time.

“You know what? Fuck you.” You picked up the bottle and poured him a drink. “But I don’t care anymore. Let’s keep drinking.”

“I even told him he was a son of bitch.” You shook your head. “That’s not true; his mom was very nice to me.”

“I totally get you,” Taehyung slurred. “We say things we don’t mean.”

“No, no, don’t get me wrong,” you barely worded. “I meant that.”

“Oh.” He battled with the flutters of his eyelids. “Okay.”

“I love that we’re connecting.”

“Yeah, totally.” He nodded. “Totally. It’s like we’ve met before.”

“Definitely,” you agreed, downing your drink. “What’s your favorite snack?”

“Hmm.” He looked up for a split second. “Donut—”

“Sausage.”

“But yeah, that—that too.”

“See? We’re so alike.”

He shrugged, alcohol consuming too much of his brain for him to even question the validity of your tests. “I gotta tell you something.”

“What’s that, bestie?”

“Your boyfriend brought many girls to his apartment when you two were going out.” He hiccupped.

“You knew that all this time and you didn’t tell me?” you cried out.

“We just m-met,” he hiccupped again.

“But we’re—hick—supposed to be connected,” you directed, hiccupping too.

“Okay, soulmates, when are you two gonna let me go home?” Yoongi asked, forcefully pulling the bottle from your hand.

“Hey!” was your protest that did nothing. “Give it back,” you whined.

“I’ve been watching you two for almost four hours now.”

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung rhetorically asked. “We’re connected.”

“What does that even mean? And who—”

“His name is Taehyung,” you cut him off.

“That’s right, I am him.” Taehyung shoot at you with a finger gun and a wink.

You nodded, feeling empowered. “Put respect to his name!” You winked at Taehyung and a little voice that Yoongi heard, “I got your back.”

“Fuck.” Yoongi rolled his eyes along his body, throwing his own body to the couch beside the entrance. He covered his face with his palms, crying out, “Please let me go home!”

Your brows furrowed. “But I thought you said—hick—it’s all good!”

“That was three hours ago!”

“What?” you cried, tears falling from your eyes. “You l-lied to me?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. “No—what—don’t cry!”

“You lied to me,” you sobbed. “I hate all good-looking guys. Except you,” you turned to Taehyung, “you’re my new best friend.”

Taehyung leaned in to kiss your crown. “You too!”

“Fuck my life,” Yoongi mumbled mostly for him to hear.

“What? You called your ex-fiancé a bitch?” you clarified. “That’s so not cool, man. That’s… uncool.” You chuckled.

“Funny,” Yoongi muttered sarcastically under his breath. He winced when he took a sip of your drink, pushing it away to serve himself the classic favorite, soju.

You tried to smack him with the back of your palm but it was easy for him to avoid it, considering your lessened sense of sight, or senses in general.

“You are so rude to your hottest friend!” you whined.

You had no idea when did Yoongi get back behind the counter with a bar stool, joining you two drink, but you were glad he did anyway. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as the two of you, considering his high tolerance. And it was good there was one sane enough to keep you two on your feet, or well, your asses.

Because in all honesty, there had been more than four instances of you almost falling out of your chair.

“I didn’t say it to her face! And you called your ex a bastard, an—an asshole, a-what’s the other one?” Taehyung asked, unsuccessfully recollecting his memories of tonight.

“A son of a bitch,” you supplied. “But that’s different!”

“What, how is that different?” Taehyung complained.

“Right. How is that different?” Yoongi repeated. “You’ve called his ex-fiancé a bitch.”

“Because! I can’t remember! I don’t think I even said that—oh, wait, no,” you rambled. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think.” Your shoulders sagged from langor. “Should I call him?” you asked suddenly. “Tell him to come pick me up. Tell him that I forgive him.”

“Wait, wait. No, don’t do that.” Yoongi’s forehead crinkled immediately, holding onto your wrist. “That’s not a good idea, _____.”

“Please, Yoongi?” you moaned powerlessly. “For the name of love?”

“The name of what?” Yoongi repeated, eyes narrowing.

“For the name of love!” Taehyung jumped in with much enthusiasm, a fresh air of loud positive pulps of passion, raising his glass for a ‘cheers’ which you completed by bumping your glass onto his. “Go, _____!”

“What the fuck, dude?” Yoongi picked, not believing how this scenario was playing in front of him. “No, no, no, _____. Don’t call him. You can’t.”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket aggressively, which despite the many clicks on the lock button, wouldn’t open. The photo of you and Seokjin at one romantic diner in Japan during the bests of cherry blossoms, failing to show up as your lockscreen. “Oh, nooo,” you wailed, though sounding a bit unaffected.

“It’s not working,” was Taehyung’s commentary.

“There goes a month pay,” Yoongi stated nonchalantly, tipping his drink to the side.

“Fuck the name of love,” you simply muttered, dropping your phone to the counter violently. Its screen slapping on the wood was the only noise that echoed through the private bar.

“Fuck the name of love!” Taehyung repeated.

With how things played out, Yoongi wasn’t able to go home after all, especially not when you were crying your heart out at 4AM, organizing a funeral for your wrecked phone with only him and Taehyung as guests.

He ended up changing your shirt to a much drier, warmer one, and tucked you to the couch in his office. On the other hand, he had to lay blankets on one of the couches downstairs for Taehyung. Because as it turned out, Yoongi couldn’t call anyone from his phone to pick him up.

“Morning,” you greeted Yoongi, voice barely pushing through.

You could smell your own breath from your mouth, and it was not a good thing. On a much worse note, your head was also pulsing and you had absolutely no control of it. Blinking multiple times, you stared at Yoongi, properly leaning on the doorframe as he watched you crumbled to your demise.

“What time is it?” you were able to ask.

“It’s 9 in the morning, princess,” Yoongi said sarcastically. “Eat that,” he said, pointing to the hangover soup resting on the coffee table.

“My savior,” you mumbled lifelessly, shuffling to sit upright before grabbing the hot bowl into the care of your palms. “Smells like it tastes bland. Where d’you get this?”

“Taehyung’s downstairs,” he continued the conversation to another direction.

“Who?” you asked, taking a sip of your soup.

“What?” His forehead furrowed.

“Who?”

“Taehyung.”

“Right. Taehyung who?” You almost sounded aggravated.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi was genuinely clueless but your goading was relentless.

“Who is he?”

“Taehyung.”

“Repeating it is not hel—holy shit.” It dawned to you finally.

“Finally,” Yoongi puffed out, throwing his hands out.

“Oh, my God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

“What, now?” was his groggy response, rolling his eyes.

“You gotta smuggle me out of here!” you demanded. “That Taehyung—he knows so much about me and I am so embarrassed. Yoongi, he cannot see me!” You turned the volume of your voice lower, and added, “Forever!”

His eyes narrowed at your dramatics and the dramatic fidgeting. “Okay, _____. What happened to the entire soulmates thing? The whole ‘I love that we’re connecting’ stuff, huh,” he asked, mimicking your voice. “How did that work out for you?”

“What?” you asked again. No idea coming into your head to verify his lame allegations.

“You even called him your new best friend!”

“I called him my new best friend?” was another oblivious remark from you. “We must’ve really hit it off then. But I can’t remember!” You looked at the ceiling for some answers. “All I can remember is yelling at Seokjin.”

“God, you’re a lost cause.”

“Wow. Thanks, Yoongi.” You stood up, taking moments to balance yourself. “What a weird way of cheering me up when I’m down.”

He cleared his throat before blankly looking at you. “Need your ticket home or what?”

Your eyes immediately perched up. “Yes, please.”

“Then let’s roll out.”

“Okay, Optimus Prime. Let me just finish my soup.”

“This is no good.”

You dropped your rubber whisk next to the mess of a bowl with a sigh almost deeper than any sigh you had ever sighed, staining your counter with sweet, soggy batter. You scrambled through your equipment, searching for more dry ingredients, a call to start over for the fifth time today.

The patisserie was closed today despite the most active hours being on a good, warm Saturday. But you had no business of mingling with the regulars and casual, new costumers today, not when every now and then you remembered Seokjin’s beautiful face, coming from that same glassed doors.

As if on cue, tears climbed up to your eyes, turning them glassy and blurred. Of course, it wasn’t enough to suffer that way. Your lips also had to quiver along your fingers that constantly found troubles in grabbing your kitchenware. They had also been kept busy from slapping your cheeks each time you had an alarm beeped in your head to keep focused.

“It’s all no good,” you muttered to yourself, a tear finally dropping, having been supressed for the past three hours. “Fuck.”

You coughed, trying to let go of the clogging on your throat because it was painful. Too painful. And pain had already crept from different places, from your pounding head to your drubbing heart. Of course, that kind of pain wasn’t enough for you too.

The turnouts of your baking were also a form of punishment. Everything coming out at different versions of crumbling dry, dense, damp, and too soft, almost melting along the frosting.

Then, the doors chimed along the words:

“Stress-baking?”

You quickly turned, dialling down the volume of your lo-fi music as you hoped it would calm you down and help you concentrate. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled. “We’re closed today.”

“Hey, uh, it’s me.”

You looked at the figure coming from the entrance. “I shouldn’t have opened the entrance.”

“Yeah, I don’t think customers like watching the baker cry,” he teased.

“Fuck. Sorry,” you said, drying your eyes with your towel. You composed yourself. “What—what are you doing here?”

It wasn’t your intention for the words to come out harshly, a bit pointed on the edges. But you almost – almost – didn’t really give a damn about how you sounded, except when you watched Taehyung’s features soften down to both concern and wounded, or you read them wrong.

“How did you…?”

“Yoongi—uh, gave me this address,” Taehyung said delicately, slowly. “He also said, ‘fuck you, I’m not giving you her home address’ which was pretty wise.”

Fuck you, Yoongi.

“First name basis, huh,” you kidded, noting how he called your friend by first name. “I wish I could offer you something to eat, but everything I touch turned to shit.”

“Um, a drink will do?” he mumbled, trying to save the situation.

“Cola?”

“Yes, please,” was his energized answer, along his boxy smile.

Once you were both seated on one of the tables of your pastel patisserie with cans of cola as fresheners, one had to keep talking.

“So… you bake?” was Taehyung’s first card.

“I stress-bake,” you corrected, making him chuckle at your wit.

“Are you still hung-over?” Taehyung asked politely, as if you were too fragile for a question like that.

“Honestly, a bit,” you confessed. “Please tell me you are too.”

“Totally,” he said, beaming. “Uhh, anyway, I didn’t really want to make you uncomfortable with everything that happened last night. But I do want to see you so…”

Fuck, this is it.

He was going to call you embarrassing and desperate and humiliating and broken and attention-seeking and worthless and pitiful and undeserving of love and—

“I have gift cards off Apple,” Taehyung simply continued, making your brow raise.

“W-What?”

“I have Apple gift cards,” he repeated, laying the cards on the table from his satchel bag, which now that you noticed – fancy. “My dad is a part of the company and they get stuff like that. I don’t need it. And, well, I saw your phone died last night, and you even had me write something like—”

“Thank you for the two and a half years,” you finished.

“Right.” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Rest in peace.”

You covered your face with your palms. “Oh, my God. I was so embarrassing.” You felt your cheeks heat up at the caution of your palms. Fuck, you were certain that your ears were also glowing red and having your hair tied up in a hair net didn’t help at all.

“We were, weren’t we?” he added, laughing at the matter at hand.

It was nice of him to include himself at your rundown of self-pities and humiliating rewinds of last night.

You smiled at him and that must have been the first time he had seen you smile. For a small moment, his heart rate rose up a notch. You were pretty, and he couldn’t deny that.

“But it was fun,” he said. “I had a lot of fun although some details are a bit hazy.”

“And I hope it stays that way,” you countered.

He laughed, showing the attractive creases on his cheeks. “I did remember your phone funeral though.”

“Hopefully, that’s the only thing you’ll ever remember.”

“And when you fell on your ass because you kept rocking on your chair.”

You raised a brow. “What? I don’t even remember that.”

“Well, I do.” He smirked.

You cleared your throat and looked on the table.

“Are you sure about giving me these?” you asked, trailing your fingers over the cards laid in front of you. “You did see my phone last night, right?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’d rather have you arrange another funeral than have these cards expired, _____.”

You scoffed, not at him, but at the entirety of things. You stacked the cards on top of another, making a figure of a deck, not allowing a millimeter to stick out from the edges.

“You remembered my name,” you muttered, an affection you hadn’t desired to voice out but it was right in the air.

“Of course. You remembered mine… right?”

Your eyes widened, the flashback of Yoongi repeatedly announcing his name when you woke up playing in your head. “Definitely,” you half-lied. “Thank you for the cards, Taeh—can I call you Tae?”

He gulped. “Yeah, sure.”

“See? We’re ahead of Yoongi now. We’re on nicknames basis.” A chuckle rumbled from your chest, an honest one, besides the ones you had last night. Those you were too drunk to even remember vividly.

His cheeks went up higher to his eyes; eyes that were gleaming too much the sun should feel a bit of shame. He cleared his throat as he finished his drink. “I guess, um, I’ll see you… later?” was his unsure attempt.

“Hopefully,” you said. “I don’t know where to see you, although, I do know where you live. But you know, my ex lives there—and I don’t want to go there, because we just broke up and—it’s all a mess. But I do want to see you, so there’s that.” You sighed.

What a mess.

“Here,” Taehyung assisted your deterioration, slipping a business card to you. “I have a vet clinic a few blocks away. I’m almost always there.”

It was making sense that he was wearing scrubs to your patisserie and you were too self-involved to just notice it now.

“Cool.” You nodded weakly, clipping the card between your fingers and admiring the fact that he was a fucking veterinarian and on top of that, freely offered you Apple gift cards to buy a new phone. “And I’m almost always here.”

You followed him on his way out, watching his body drift away, but not before turning back to wave at you, which you reciprocated. You turned away in a few seconds, marching back to the neglected cola cans on the pastel table with Taehyung’s business card on it.

The doors chimed again.

“Taehyung, did you forget some—” you turned around and almost bit your tongue, “—thing…”

“You’re closed today?”

“Clearly,” you stated sternly, placing down the cans back on the table with a hard swallow. “What do you want?”

“I thought you wanted to talk,” he sighed, taking off his coat to get comfortable.

“No, no! Put your coat back, Seokjin,” you ordered, heart raising and voice cracking. It was only luck’s purpose to decide if he hadn’t caught that your voice cracked, and you hoped it played its role today. “You’re twenty-one hours late. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“C’mon, _____.” Seokjin continued on taking off his coat.

“I said, don’t!”

He halted, fixing his coat back to his shoulder. “Fine.”

“What?”

“I just want to talk, ____.” He took a step forward and you tensed. “Calmly.”

“Are you mocking me?” you spat. “I didn’t want to shout outside your fucking apartment, Seokjin.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” He scoffed. “I even received a letter from the landlord about the complaints from last night.”

“What, do you want me to apologize? Isn’t that a little fucked up? Considering you’re the one who cheated on me and ran off from my apartment when I wanted to talk.” You rested your palms on your chest for emphasis. “What do you even have to tell me? I saw everything! There’s only too little information left for you to explain, and I don’t think I even want to hear it. When you got tired, you could’ve told me from the start! But you had to drag it through the last years we were together! Then you had to rub it in my face that you don’t feel the same way as I do anymore.”

“See? We’re talking,” he said with a slight smile, an out-of-place effort to cheer you up.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Don’t do that,” you said, the last word falling to a flat whisper. “It doesn’t make things any better. I know you didn’t come here to explain why you cheated on me. Can we just get to it?”

“I wanted to,” he swallowed, “apologize.”

“Okay,” you said weakly, “I don’t want to accept it. You can go now.”

He went closer, a proximity that had alarms buzzing in your head, although he was meters away. It felt different. He felt different. So, no, you had to give yourself a bit of self-respect. He was in your personal space. He was in a place you caved for yourself to heal. So, no, you couldn’t allow him tainting this.

Not when he had already tainted almost everything else in your life.

It was six years after all.

“Please leave.” Your voice was dead. “Leave.”

“You’re being dramatic—”

“Leave.”

“Talk to me, _____,” was his rich request.

“I have a knife close to me,” you threatened.

“That’s a whisk,” he teased with a slight chuckle.

“I have no time for your jokes!” you almost yelled, and you were trembling again, back to how this day started. With an exhaled shaky breath, you collected yourself. Finally, you reiterated with much clearance and control, “Please leave.”

This was your last resort: to stand up to him when it was all too much.

And he did leave.

Had you known better, you would have acknowledged the tug at your heart when he left wordlessly. But you failed to do so, and ignorance is bliss.

When he finally disappeared from your vision, your knees quickly gave up. Fortunately, the seat behind you supported your weight because if you ended up on the floor, there was no more intent of standing up after a few hours.

“I give up, Yoongi.”

“But you just exceeded the 24-hour mark,” Yoongi insisted. “You can’t call him.”

“If I get through two days of this, am I allowed to finally call him?” you asked, sniffling in between your words defenselessly.

“No.”

“Then what is the purpose of this?” You threw your head back, screwing your eyes shut from the pain of possibly pulling a muscle and the break-up itself.

“Umm,” he rummaged for a retort, “to not call him anymore?”

“I’m a lost cause, Yoongi.” You tucked the falling strands of your hair behind your ears. “You were right.”

“If this is your way to make me guilty and allow you to call him, it’s not working.”

“Oh, fuck it!”

You made your way to the empty spot of his couch through heavy stomps of your feet clothed with white socks, barely making a sound you expected to at least create thumps, and slumped next to him. In no less than a second, Yoongi laid his arm around your shoulders.

“I hate it when you throw yourself on my couch like that, but,” he sighed and pressed a finger on your nose, “I’ll allow it for now.”

And in no less than a second, you were bawling again. For the nth time since the morning you woke up. From the morning that should have been a start of change, but this change was a tad too cruel to your heart. Throughout the day, you had to drag your feet through rough asphalts to get somewhere, as well as to get to Yoongi’s apartment before he finally picked you up on his bike.

You barely even saw him arrive, having your eyes clouded by tears.

Being on his bike however, felt nice. It felt nice to wrap your arms around someone. Around someone safe.

“He visited me earlier today,” you announced. “He tried to make me laugh, but it’s just not the same anymore. I can’t see him the same way.”

“Fuck Seokjin, right?” Yoongi said, lightening your mood.

Your nod was a reaction that sufficed.

“He was my friend too, you know,” he continued.

“I-I’m sorry.” You brushed the back of your hand under your nose to ease it from running. “I-I d-destroyed one of y-your friendsh-friendships.”

“That’s not what I meant, _____.” He scoffed. “I’m on your side, okay? Stop putting yourself down all the time like you’re not important.”

“Thank you.” It was the time to exercise your breathing, which you did as you sat upright.

“You are very important to me,” he emphasized. “Repeat after me, Seokjin is an asshole, a bastard, and a son of a bitch,” Yoongi said, patting your head.

“I didn’t mean that,” you said, brows furrowing.

“You do now.”

“I really don’t.” You looked at Yoongi with apologetic eyes, catching a tear from your left one with a light swipe of your fingers. “I still love him, Yoongi. Very much. I know I yelled at him and asked him to leave when he tried to patch things up, but fuck. I still really am in love with him. I have to admit this.”

“But that doesn’t change what he did to you. Plus, it’s only been a day. Give yourself a break.” He looked at you intently and you knew what he wanted.

You sighed deeply. “Seokjin is an asshole, a bastard, and a son of a bitch. Happy?”

“Good enough.”

“Okay. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Sure.” Yoongi nodded abruptly. “So, uh, did your new best friend visit you?”

“New best friend,” you repeated with a huff.

“When you called him that, it kinda hurt, you know.”

Your shoulders shook at the laughter that warmly and softly erupted from your chest. “Yeah, he visited. And you are not gonna believe what he gave me!”

“Hmm, his shampoo?”

Your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“His hair conditioner?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You probably didn’t notice because you were drunk, but his hair was extra soft.”

“Again, what?”

“Okay.” Instead, he pulled his eyes to the back of his head before returning them to you. “What did he give you, then?”

“Apple gift cards!” you squealed. “I’m gonna get discounts for my new phone!”

“Hey! That’s great!” he went along, smiling. “You’re saving yourself a month pay!”

“And, and, and,” you said excitedly, “I can finally call Seokjin without needing your stupid phone!”

“Not funny.”

You groaned. “Fine! Also you know what, Taehyung’s a vet! Isn’t that cool? He’s a doctor for pets!”

“Yes, _____. I know what a veterinarian is.”

You glared at him. “My new best friend is so cool.”

He chuckled. “I think this is great.”

“What is?”

“You, meeting new people.”

“Already?”

“I didn’t mean romantically.”

“Oh,” you blankly said. “Then yes, it is great. I think he’s very nice. We get along very well.”

“Alright, soulmates.”

“I’m still mad you gave him my work address.”

Mornings were the start of change. You had to move on with tiny steps, and arriving to your shop an hour early to bake extra was your starter, your kick-off. An hour before lunch, you had to leave the patisserie to one of your workers in-charge with a box of donuts clipped in your hand. Donuts perfectly aligned, perfectly designed, and perfectly deep-fried to your standards.

You did not usually make donuts as they didn’t really suit the aesthetic of your bakery, but they seemed perfect as gifts for Taehyung.

This was a wake, you believed. If your life was truly a movie, this would be the second instalment to it, you thought as you tread to the address printed on the business card you had pulled from the back pocket of your jeans. You took quick glances of it as you continued walking, noting that you were bad at directions.

You sighed. Self-awareness was key too.

With quite a nervous breath, you pushed the glass door, and you were welcomed by a deep, familiar voice.

“You were supposed to pull.”

“Oh, shit—sorry,” you mumbled but you were already inside, captured by his gaze, of him, wearing a lab coat atop his ordinary clothes. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Taehyung replied, beaming like you were a delivery package he had been expecting to arrive. “So welcome to my place. You caught me logging out.”

Your eyes widened. “Shit. Are you going somewhere? This is a wrong time, isn’t it? I’ll just come back later or maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

“No, no,” he denied rapidly, not wasting a millisecond. “It’s all fine. Don’t worry. I’m actually glad you’re here.”

You hadn’t intended to, but your heart swelled.

Fuck, he was good-looking, and you swore you hated good-looking guys.

“Do you like pets?” he had asked, taking a step closer to you.

“Do I like pets?” you restated. “Do you think of me as a monster, Tae?”

He grinned at your response, obviously satisfied by your counter-question. “Then would you like to meet some?”

It didn’t take long for you to process such information and the increasing the size of your eyes gave your answer away before you could even nod more than five times in less than a second.

“Follow me.”

And you followed him like a tail, still holding onto the box of donuts you had no idea how to hand it over to him. The crisis was that he didn’t ask anything about it. Hell, you could do better.

“This is Rocket,” Taehyung introduced, playing with the caged puppy’s paw with a finger.

“Like the ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ Rocket?”

“Uh-huh. Like the ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ Rocket. Isn’t he cute?”

“What a cool name for a cute little guy.”

The smile on his face was worth billions. Or, it should be.

You gasped at the sight of Rocket’s tail wiggling as he licked Taehyung’s finger. “M-May I?”

He nodded, his back still crouched to level with the transparent cage and you joined him, merely leaving an expanse of an inch or two to avoid your shoulders from bumping against each other. He smelled nice, fresh. The Labrador greeted you with a dose of pleasantness like you had been here before, met him before. You played your finger lightly on his whiskers before finally pulling away.

“Your job is awesome,” you said in complete awe.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. He wanted to add that it was different when it came to surgery but seeing how your eyes gleamed at the sight of the healthy puppy, he decided to kept that information sealed as secret.

You noticed the souring of his expression. “Shit. You operate.”

He freed the breath he locked in his cheeks. “Yep.”

That had you chewing your bottom lip instead of looking at him and making things a bit more awkward. You turned your heels to take a dedicated sweep at his work area. You took sights of different pets with respective nameplates on the bottom left corners of their spotless confinements. Many of which had very unique names.

“I came here today to thank you,” you said, spinning your front to him. “I was probably too much to handle that night. And I know I probably disturbed your night too, but you followed me instead and joined me to you know, have a drink. Many people don’t really care—a lot. And that’s a given. You’re not obliged to do anything—but, well, um, you still did. So—fuck—I really should have practiced this in front of a mirror. So,” you took a sharp inhale, “all I’m saying is, thank you very much, Taehyung.”

As soon as you ended your fucking monologue, you tore your glance to check out the dog nearest to your face.

You were red. That, you were pretty much sure of.

Fuck.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “I really am glad you came here.”

“Hmm?” you hummed, acting casual and well, breezy, shifting your gaze from a Pomsky to Taehyung’s eyes which were surprisingly as delicate and anxious.

Before he could even say a thing, he buried his face into his palms, but his reddening ears were a tell-tale to his collapsing self-composure adhering shyness.

“H-Hey, are you alright?” you asked but you had to admit, this was getting weird.

He was so cool, serene, and collected earlier and in a split-second, his demeanor dissolved into the crisp of the cold breeze in this isolated, air-conditioned room.

“Okay.” He pulled his face from his palms as he slid them downward from his nose to his lips before he intertwined his fingers and pressed them to his chest. “I know that looked weird but I have something to propose to you.”

“How about we eat these donuts first?” you asked, raising the box, and mending this situation.

“Donuts?” He was intrigued. “Sure, no problem, okay, let’s,” he said, not sparing a millisecond.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “So, let’s head out, go somewhere else?”

“You know what? Not okay,” Taehyung said, panicking almost and looking away from the box of donuts you were waving in front of him oh so nonchalantly from your fingers.

Fuck. He was tempted.

“What—why?” you questioned, nervousness back on track into seeping through your skin and through your nerves.

Oh, my God. This was it, wasn’t it?

He was going to call you embarrassing and desperate and humiliating and broken and attention-seeking and worthless and pitiful and undeserving of love and that he never wanted to see again that was why he was happy to see you so he could finally say those words to your fac—

“Canyoubemyplusoneeonmyexfianceswedding?”

“What?”

Taehyung took a deep breath, and this time, his voice was deeper, lower. “Can you be my plus one,” he took a pause to decipher your unmoving expression but he had to lay all his cards out, “on my ex-fiancé’s wedding?”

#f: whiskey neat and whisking trips #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x oc #fluff #angst #by:lacielre

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lacielre · 4 years

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Hi!! Am in love with your doc circles over circles!! May i ask whats your schedule like for updates? 🤩

hello! thank u so much for ur kind comment! i dont have a schedule for update but i think i’ll update coc soon enough maybe until friday this week! could be earlier too !!!!

#omg my first ask #ask

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lacielre · 4 years

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the notifs i’m getting Omg ????????????? 💘💝💘💓💖💘💞💕💖💞💖💖💘💘💓💖💘💕💖💘

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lacielre · 4 years

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whiskey neat & whisking trips part i. whiskey neat

pairing taehyung/reader, seokjin/reader

genre fake/pretend relationship, post-breakup, infidelity, veterinarian!taehyung, baker!oc, an attempt to comedy, pillow-screaming fluff, eventual smut

rating mature

warnings swearing, alcohol consumption, a bit of second-hand embarrassment

parts prologue, 1

“HEAR ME OUT!”

There was one thing you promised yourself you would never do: chase someone who had told you at least once that they don’t feel the same way about you. Not even as a last resort. In this case, for that someone, it wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way about you, it was that he didn’t feel the same way about you anymore. There was a big difference. Or at least, you convinced yourself that there was.

That was probably why you chased after him.

Here, outside his building, under the downpour of the casted rain, with you screaming directly to his exposed window. Because plain screaming just wasn’t enough, rain had to be an accompaniment. It had to be movie-like but a blatant contradiction to your dreams of being swept off your feet and get married to him one day. Those dream-like scenarios ended up winding up somewhere else while you were stuck in their consolations, thinking they could still be possible.

“PLEASE!” was your shrieking scream. “I KNOW WE CAN WORK THIS OUT!”

Syllables being grazed against your throat like large tires screeching against rough asphalts on sudden halts weren’t enough for your boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend. But the tiniest hint of optimism, a rare feat of positivity within you, was sparking to its diligence.

“FUCK!”

In your head were the runs of thoughts, one being that he couldn’t hear you because of the deluge of heavy droplets.

That must be it.

“I’LL—I’ll call you!”

Even if you believed that it was the rain that drowned your voice, you still shouted an announcement for your impending call.

The simple act of fishing your phone and making a call had your entire body shaking. It was cold. No amount of layers of clothing protected you for the cascades that only found purchase in drenching all there was on land, including you. Because to them – to the gods or whoever was there – your tears were not enough.

“Pick up,” you muttered under your breath, false hope clinging onto your running nose and trembling figure. “Please. Pickuppickuppickup.”

First try.

Second try.

“Fuck. Please,” you sniffled, “please.”

Third, fourth, fifth. “Nonono. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Please.”

You dialed again, over and over. Sixth, seventh. Repetitive taps on your screen barely recognized your touch from the water infiltrating it. There was no clear indication in your head on the reasons for your tears. They were becoming too much.

Everything was too much; you couldn’t believe it was real.

Your boyfriend – okay, ex-boyfriend – ran off from your apartment after picking up all his stuff and choosing not to hear you out, despite your calm and disorganized rambles. To you, “falling out of love” wasn’t enough. You didn’t believe it. There was no way he suddenly felt that way about you because there was no point in your relationship that he made you feel that way.

Now it was your phone’s turn to create troubles with you through its glitches and unresponsive retorts. And you’d be spending a whole month of salary to buy a new phone. But fuck it.

With your boy—ex-boyfriend, it was ride or die.

“PICK UP YOUR PHONE!” you cried out loudly. “PLEASE!”

In rapid pace, you shook your head from side to side.

“NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME, SEOKJIN!”

It pained you to mention his name into his neighborhood but this was it. This was the last resort. It was either this or everything was over, and there was no space for empty fills of journey. You had to fill them up with risks. Risks like this.

“WE CAN WORK THIS OUT!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” one of the tenants shouted back.

You ignored him with tight-closed fists. “LET’S WORK THIS OUT!”

The sobs in between your shouts were as painful sounding to you. This was a level of humiliation you never thought you could fathom. A level of humiliation you presented upon yourself to dozens of lit-up rent-controlled apartments within an old, drenched building.

“I KNOW WE CAN WORK THIS OUT!”

For the last resort.

“WE CAN! WE JUST HAVE TO TALK!”

Some of his neighbors were already peeking from their wrinkled up curtains, eyeing you with either apathy, genuine concern, curiosity, or pity. Mostly the latter. Fuck. You were embarrassing, weren’t you?

“LET ME IN! PLEASE!”

Your teeth quivered, a desire to aid the cold creeping into your skin.

“LET’S TALK IT OUT!”

For the last resort.

“WE CAN WORK THIS… o-out.”

And he showed up to your vision finally, exposing himself on the curtain-less, bare windows of his dimly-lit apartment.

Yeah, he showed up to you alright.

For your last resort, the picture he – Seokjin, your boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend – painted to you was his naked upper body with a woman behind him wrapped in soft pink-colored cotton robe, loosely tied around her tiny waist. Her dewed up cleavage haunted you in all ways possible, good and bad.

She was looking at you with pity, too much of a hint that she knew about your relationship with Seokjin beforehand. Why would someone do such a cruel thing to you? You shook your head. It wasn’t entirely her fault; it was still mostly his. And yet, you still had a hard time believing it.

No.

No, it can’t be. But fuck.

“You…” Your teeth chattered in both the breeze tightly hugging onto your skin and the anger summoning until the tips of your fingers.

You wanted the next word to come out strong, not soiled up by the looming sobs from your heavy chest and aching stomach. This was it for you. This was your last resort.

“You…” was your repeated indulgence. “You f-f-fucking—”

Then you inhaled deeply, partnered with closed fists, nails biting into your palms too much they had bled.

“ASSHOLE! YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Your knees were too close to giving up but you weren’t going to allow more humiliation to come out one by one at a single scene. This was your movie and you were only willing to show devastations to come up on the screen scene-by-scene. Not like this.

“FUCK YOU!” You swallowed. “FUCK YOU AND YOUR BIG DICK! I HOPE YOU KNEW HOW TO USE IT! BASTARD!”

With the last drops of grueling frustration, of anger and sadness, you permitted your gaze to melt into his for a fleeting moment. This was a picture that will forever be engraved in your head, even if you had a water-like memory.

Him, looking down on you with unfiltered emptiness that made you feel like vomiting. The woman behind him, mustering to attain the same gaze as though practiced, but failed to do so, as hers entailed ushered pity. The look that said, she will never hit rock-bottom, the same you did and you were still at. You were a debacle. But she could do better.

Then you let go.

The turns of your heels were both aching and liberating. It was as if your hands were in shackles for so long, and you had also been pulling for so long. And when your wrists were free, you were in pain. A pain accompanied by a sense of freedom.

That you will never be stuck with someone who was a lying bitch.

A fucking cheater.

“Yoongi, my usual,” you ordered as you slumped to the bar stool tucked under the counter.

“Sure—holy shit. What happened to you?” It was him turning that triggered the pause between his sentence and made you aware of the fact that you looked like shit on a Friday night. “What the hell, _____? You’re trembling.”

“I’m okay,” you breathed out almost emotionlessly, looking at your fingers splayed upon the counter. You tap them to create cheerful sounds, a forced contrast to your appearance before pulling your eyes heavenward, mustering courage to stare back at Yoongi. You repeated, “I’m okay.”

In any minute now, you would bawl. Again.

“Stop—stop tapping your fingers,” Yoongi said weakly, leaving the bottle he was once taking care of to the counter behind him. He rolled around a white towel around his palms, getting rid of the remnants of alcohol staining his hands. “What the hell happened out there, _____?”

“You got anything warmer in there?” you asked instead.

“Y-Yeah, shit, I’ll check,” he said, thinking if there were some dry towels or blankets upstairs at his cave. Then his voice was fleeting away. “Hey, Hobi, could you cover for me there? I’ll just grab some stuff upstairs.”

And his colleague was happy to, nodding his head and repeatedly saying “yeah” to Yoongi.

The simple image made you swallow. Fuck. You wanted to feel happy too but your chest only swelled painful verves, pumping endlessly into you to the point that Seokjin and the girl behind him were the sole picture in your head.

“Here you go.” Yoongi appeared out-of-nowhere, or it seemed like so to you, as he wrapped your body with a warm, thick blanket. “You sure you wanna stay here? You could just rest in my office. I don’t mind, _____.”

“I want to drink,” you simply mumbled.

“We can do that upstairs too.”

“It’s too quiet up there,” you probed.

“I can play some music,” was his fast counter.

“Yoongi,” you called his name almost as faint as a shy breath. “I don’t want to be alone with myself or with you. Everything keeps ringing in my head. So, can you please just serve me my fucking drink?”

Yoongi tested a few seconds for you to retract your statement but when you didn’t, he got back to his place behind the counter and fidgeted through his bottles of alcohol to serve you your drink – whiskey neat.

“Thank you,” was your weak appreciation as he slid the drink to your yearning hand.

“Is this because of Seok—”

“Don’t,” you sternly warned.

“You can talk to me.”

“Few more drinks.”

He nodded, giving up. “Okay.” Then he left your space to serve a newly-entered customer who sat with an empty seat between the two of you. “What you want, boss?”

“Whiskey neat,” was his succinct reply.

“You got it,” Yoongi said, picking up the same bottle he had used for you and pouring some of it for the gentleman next to you.

The gentleman next to you reciprocated your gaze. He nodded at your sodden self. “Rough night?”

You chuckled at his attempt of small talk. “Like you’ve never imagined.”

Taehyung’s night was supposed to be perfect.

He had a major work turn-out this morning to kick-off his day. The clinic’s pantry had donuts on the counter available until noon. From then on, he felt like everything was going to fall into place for him. He celebrated a few drinks with colleagues at a bar downtown. He had waited for things like this to happen to him. Simply, it was because he was a romantic. He believed in make-believes, the pretense of life.

Until at around 11PM that night.

Taehyung’s fiancé – ex-fiancé – had emailed him a night before and he had just opened it. He regretted doing so. He hoped he’d seen it sooner, so that today was perfect. No bumps. Just his – his movie.

Her email was a bad omen.

He should’ve known.

It said:

Hi, Taehyung.

I’m not sure if you’re willing to open this message but if you do and read it, then thank you, and I couldn’t thank you enough for doing so. For the longest time, I had been thinking that what you and I had was special. And maybe it was it being special that made it short-lived.

Taehyung scoffed loudly at that part. “Bullshit.”

I know that it was my fault why it was so short-lived too. Granted, I cheated on you. But that was fate’s way of telling us we shouldn’t be together.

“Bull—shit!” was his sonorous amen.

You will never forgive me and that’s not something I could change. And it’s valid that you feel that way about me. I still love you not in the same way as before but I love you, Tae. But this message isn’t about forgiveness or apology.

He took a deep breath before rolling his eyes and attaching them to the screen of his desktop.

This message is a message from me to you.

Again, he rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “What a dramatic fucking bitch. Get to the point already.”

I’m getting married in a month.

His heart dropped, and now he understood the depth of that expression. Still, it wasn’t enough. His heart felt like it was going to drag his entire body to the core of the Earth.

“What the fuck,” Taehyung had muttered under his breath. “I’m getting married in a month,” he repeated, not believing merely his own eyes to read it out to him.

And this is my formal invitation to you, Taehyung. I hope you’d come. If you can’t, maybe at least reply? That would be enough for me to know… something. Thank you, Taehyung. For everything. You taught me a lot.

And just like that, everything was washing down to him, his self-declared luck and the façade of what he thought was a movie – his movie. He slumped his back onto his swivel chair, allowing his lower body sag to the pulls of gravity, before rubbing his palms into his face, squeezing his eyes tightly. He wasn’t jealous that his ex-fiancé was getting married.

Fuck, he couldn’t care less about that.

What he couldn’t believe was that she was getting fucking married in a month. And he was not an inch closer to such a desirable feat. If it were his movie, then he would have gotten married first. Better yet, their engagement should not have been called off in the first place.

But the lingering prints of “in a month” in black Arial font on his screen was a blow.

Hell, he had not dated anyone for over a month. Casual hook-ups were his thing, he thought, until tonight, he felt like they were suddenly not.

“In a month?!” he yelled into his palms. “In a fucking month?!”

He needed to get somewhere, at some point near because there was no way he was going to attend that wedding without a date. There was also no way he was not going to attend that wedding.

His mantra went on. “In a fucking month? One month? Is this some sick joke?”

Taehyung counted his blessings, relishing on the impossible idea that his date should be someone who had been with him for at least over six months but fuck, the wedding day was in a fucking month.

“HEAR ME OUT!” was a roar that came from outside.

“What the fuck…” Taehyung mumbled, standing up to check through his window. He brunched up his curtains to the side and saw a blurry figure of a woman standing by the garbage bins, drenched in cold outpours of the unforgiving weather.

“PLEASE!” came another scream. “I KNOW WE CAN WORK THIS OUT!”

Taehyung chuckled. “Romance is fucking dead.”

He continued watching, finding the display of a woman in soaked covers of multiple garments quite amusing. He listened to you scream, curse, and lash out to the window about four windows to his left. To be honest, his heart was rooting for you to heal on its own because he felt how it was ripping itself apart, little by little each time you screamed, only to receive disturbing quietness.

But there were times when it was too much.

Taehyung couldn’t, wouldn’t tolerate screams at this time of the night.

Not when he needed some time to escape his mind, too, and your screams weren’t helping him at all. You weren’t the only one who needed the time and the sound of peace. It wasn’t a thing that only exists in your movie; it was also in his.

“WE CAN WORK THIS OUT, SEOKJIN!”

Taehyung had thought, oh, him. It was to an effect that his mouth formed an “o” at the realization that dawned him. He knew Seokjin at a certain extent, an extent that only bared itself to a standard of being at the neighbor status. Taehyung didn’t know Seokjin had a girlfriend, having seen different girls coming in and out his apartment. It wasn’t any of business. But seeing you now – fuck.

You were the girlfriend.

“WE CAN WORK THIS OUT!” you cried.

He heaved a sigh drawn from the bottom of his chest. You were a bit irritating and pushy. A fighter.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Taehyung shouted but he immediately regretted it, hiding from his curtain but you didn’t even try to look for his voice.

You ignored him. “LET’S WORK THIS OUT!”

More countable minute ticks on the clock and your voice suddenly drowned. He thought that there it was – the tranquillity he had been ready to give his legs out to to worship, to bless him and reward him another “perfect day” because he deserved it. Or he believed so.

He watched you silently ponder at a small spot of the concrete, standing straight, wordless, and unmoving.

But as the trickling hums of the noise brought by the rain became the only noise in the neighborhood, suddenly, you took charge of what people could hear – it was you. Only you.

“ASSHOLE! YOU SON OF A BITCH! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR BIG DICK! I HOPE YOU KNEW HOW TO USE IT! BASTARD!”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped at your second wave of lash out. His jaw plummeting was a testimony of your rage and that to aid his charmed disbelief over you, he picked up his jaw by forming a laughter as he shook his head.

You were a fighter.

And that deserved a toast.

It was not in Taehyung’s rule book of Watching a Woman Drown Herself in Tears and Rain to follow said woman on her stride to one of the closest bars within the area. Given that you began your voyage to the bar earlier than he did, your groggy footsteps were a giveaway to how he was able to follow you.

Taehyung entered the bar and it was just what he had expected from you. Quiet, a bit of a crowd – the moderate amount – and dimly lit. Most of all, vintage.

He sat next to you, leaving a seat in between, not to take up too much of your space as your energy, he felt, was creeping up to him.

“What you want, boss?” was the bartender’s swift service.

“Whiskey neat,” was his succinct reply.

“You got it,” the bartender said and got to work, pouring Taehyung a glass of a bottle of whiskey that was already encased in his hand.

If Taehyung would give a rate to this bar, he was already prepared to give it a five out of five.

Taehyung gripped the glass in his slender fingers before finally getting a scan of your face. Contrary to the loud, roaring screams you delivered outside the building, you actually looked quite soft on the edges, dare he’d say innocent.

“Rough night?” he asked with a bit of fear when he did.

But he was glad you took it well. Chuckling, you replied after taking a huge sip of your drink, “Like you’ve never imagined.”

#f: whiskey neat and whisking trips #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #fluff #angst #by:lacielre

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lacielre · 4 years

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circles over circles, 2 (m)

SUMMARY Your life has been pretty stable from any university task to your social life and love life, everything has been set perfectly like a plate to a dining table. but that changes when you encounter the one person you remember to feel indifferent the most—Jungkook.

PAIRING jimin/reader, jungkook/reader

RATING mature

GENRE college au | smut, romance, heavy angst, friends to “enemies” to lovers, childhood friends, established relationship

WARNINGS lots of dwelling in the past (again), pining, smitten!jk, cocky taehyung, a light touch of dirty talk

WORD COUNT 8k

PARTS 1, 2

FIRST DAY OF PLAYOFFS…

Time is quick and unforgiving.

You realize this when you take a swift sweep of the sixty-person-filled room you’re in and catch the hanging wall clock. Time’s almost up. Everyone’s striving to finish the examinations that will determine the fate of the scholars in this tense chamber. For some, the exams are for the fifty-percent off scholarship grant. For you, however, you’re aiming for the month-long education in New Zealand, which based by the overheard pre-exams conversations is almost everyone else’s aim.

In a few minutes, everyone, you included, submits their papers.

All you’re thinking about is that you better fucking get in. Those dreadful hours in the quiet of the libraries and the fears of walking alone at night better pay off.

Today is also the first day of playoffs and because of the thousand-item test you had, it’s impossible for you to catch up to any game. Even the final minutes of the day’s last game, ice hockey, are not granted to you. Having arrived at the venue, you only witnessed the university’s team winning hoots and cheers, sonorously booming in the stadium from the ice rink while the audience clears up the seats.

And like every college that exists, there’s a house party and it’s only blocks away from your dorm. You’re in the middle of untying your shoelaces when your phone rings with Seulgi’s contact name flashing on your screen so you answer.

Before you could even speak, a voice beats you to it.

“Hey? I’m Yeri, Seulgi’s classmate. Um, you’re on Seulgi’s speed dial so I just figured to call you—”

“Wait—what-why? What’s going on?” you ask instead, not wasting a minute.

The other line is too loud and thank God, the girl—Yeri—you’re speaking with has gone outside to lessen the noise and actually communicate.

“Seulgi is drunk and none of us could drive her home,” she sighs then gets to the point, “she’s wasted.”

“Yeahyeahokay,” you say, tying your shoes back. “I’ll be there in five. Don’t leave her alone please.”

“Yes! Of course, of course! Thank y—oh, my God, tie—put her hair back!”

In no less than five minutes, you arrive to the house party that shows exactly what it is: a Friday night house party. You feel like even if your university didn’t win ice hockey tonight, something like this would still happen.

But hell did you miss going to parties like this.

Sadly, you aren’t here to party; you’re here to pick up your roommate who you caught puking in the last seconds of your call.

Fuck it.

You enter the vibrating house, licking your lips dried-up from the hints of winter soaking and slowly freezing the autumn air. The interior looks exactly how you expect it to from how it presents itself outside.

“Ayy! _____!”

Someone shouts your name over the blasting music and you know it’s Namjoon. You turn to find him but it’s difficult when the inebriation of people around you is also clouding your vision. There’s too many people moving around.

“On your left!”

You turn so and you see Namjoon with spread legs on a wide grey couch, balancing a red cup of what might possibly be beer on his left thigh. He eases comfortably between Seokjin and an awfully good-looking guy with a perfect side profile.

Your lips heartily form a wide smile.

“Joon!” you shout, approaching him.

“Drink?” Namjoon offers, holding the cup to you.

You’re right—beer.

You shake your head. “No, thank you.”

“Alright.” He nods. “I didn’t expect you here tonight.”

“Just here to pick up my roommate.”

Namjoon laughs, not failing to pick up the subtle hint of frustration in your tone. “Been there,” he consoles.

“Why are you even here… drinking? Isn’t your game tomorrow morning?”

“Before lunch, yeah,” he corrects. “I’m not getting drunk by the way. Just here for a few drinks then I’ll bounce. Our coach told us to relax.” The last word hotly grazes against his throat.

“And we did,” Seokjin continues, leaning back. “Nice seeing you, _____. You look great.”

“You know I doubt that but thanks.”

“So, what, I’m just not here or…?” the guy with the perfect side profile says.

“Ignore him, _____,” Seokjin mumbles.

“So, _____.” The perfect-side-profile man catches your name. “I’m Hoseok.”

“Ignore him,” Namjoon repeats Seokjin’s sentiment.

You smile at Hoseok anyway, to be polite. Now he has a name. “I’d love to catch up with you, guys, but I gotta go look for my friend,” you say in a hurry, withdrawing in tiny steps. “Bye! Good luck tomorrow!”

“Yeah, your boyfriend won’t really approve of that,” Namjoon teases.

Instead of replying with a witty remark, you already run off to another, emptier corner of the house and you even heard Hoseok double-checking Namjoon’s statement, asking something like, “How the fuck do all girls in this party have partners?”

Your phone vibrates and lights up with a message from Seulgi or well, Yeri who’s handling her phone, telling you to go to the backyard.

When you spin, time doesn’t construct itself much from your rapid recognition of whose back is facing you right now but meters away.

It’s Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook whose arm is leaning flatly on the wall, caging a girl with his body. It’s Jungkook in the kitchen with a girl giggling in his company and by the way his back bounces, he too must also be sharing the laughter. It annoys you that you could recognize him so easily, and worse, you could recognize him smiling from the looks of his back.

That’s Jungkook, alright.

Fuck it.

It has you reeling how you’re feeling this way but Joohyun’s words from last time ring in your head. They’ve constantly been.

This is a burden you never lifted off your shoulders.

And things like that – they come full circle.

Do they really?

You faintly shake your head.

You pass by them in speedy steps, getting a whiff of Jungkook’s cologne along the way. Some things never change.

It only takes probably half a minute for you to spot Seulgi being forced to stand up by her friends. You hear her say something to them but you couldn’t pick it up since she slurred her way through it. She lifts her head and probably sees you.

She does.

“_____!” Seulgi shouts, barely pronouncing out your name correctly.

“Oh, thank God!” Yeri groans as she follows Seulgi’s gaze.

You help Yeri and two other girls with Seulgi.

“God really is a woman,” Yeri declares in a pained whisper, squeezing her eyes shut when you take Seulgi’s arm from her shoulder.

She groans from relief, rolling her shoulders.

“My car is parked right outside,” you state, wrapping Seulgi’s arm around you instead.

“Whaaayoudyoin…” Seulgi asks, pushing her head back with closed eyes. “Donnbrimehome pleaaa! Jaacallmywoommey. I haa! A woomate!”

Now Seulgi is being a pain in the ass.

Seulgi doesn’t make it easy for you to carry her with her thrashing her body sideways at almost every step you make.

“Hey! _____! I’ll help,” Namjoon shouts from the back door, jogging lightly to your destination. “Saw you from the window,” he adds. “You didn’t tell me this was your roommate. She’s been like this for almost half an hour now.”

You shrug, passing Seulgi’s arm to Namjoon’s shoulder. “Well, that’s for her to remember in the morning.”

“She’s wasted as fuck”—Seulgi kicks and almost gets to Namjoon’s leg—“and stubborn as fuck too. Goddamn.”

“That’s my roommate, alright,” you sigh, words barely under your breath. You watch Seulgi move around and Namjoon could only back off when she turns and sways, but he tries his best to steady her, alternating holds from her shoulders, arms, and elbows. “So, can you…?”

He gives off a nervous laughter. “Yeah, fuck. I’ll just need…” he looks around, “some help.” And he catches Hoseok who’s chilling on the doorstep. “Hobi! Help me out here!”

“What, can’t carry a girl only half your size, Joon?” Hoseok provokes but comes closer.

“How ‘bout you fucking try, then?” Namjoon lets go of Seulgi and Hoseok almost backs off when your drunk friend pushes them off with her arms.

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok says.

“Are you guys really gonna help?” you ask, frustration pent up, helping Seulgi stand on your own.

“Anything for you, princess.” Hoseok winks.

God, you are so familiar with this type of talks. The sigh drawn from your lungs is probably an adequate answer but Hoseok probably failed to catch that as you do not receive any reaction from him.

With the help of Namjoon and Hoseok, you arrive to your car in no time. The other girls have already gone back to the frat house and rekindle with whatever activities Seulgi disrupted them from. Tonight is a failure to feminism, you think.

“Drive home safe,” Hoseok reminds, tapping your scrolled-down window.

Although unaccustomed of the gesture coming from him, you slowly nod.

“Okay, between the two of us, only I get to tell her that, a’right? Move,” Namjoon interferes, pushing Hoseok aside. He nods to Seulgi who’s dead asleep on the shotgun. “You sure you can bring her up yourself?”

You could only nod. Fuck, you haven’t thought of that.

Fuck it.

You swallow.

With a determined sigh, you say, “Yep. Thanks for your help, Joon.”

He flashes his deep dimples at you. “That’s nothing,” he genuinely says. “It’s nice to see you again, though, _____. Seeing you back there felt like high school, when you were still with that shithead Yoongi—fuck, sorry.”

“I’m fine! You can call him shithead as much as you like.” You laugh and he does too. “Also, yeah, it’s really been a while, huh?”

He agrees by wiggling his brows. “You took your exams today?” he asks.

“Yep! Missed all the games for that one.”

“Sucks,” Namjoon comments, his forehead furrowing in comfort. “Did mine yesterday. See you in New Zealand, baby!”

He raises a palm up and you reciprocate the high five.

You think, right.

He’s both an athletic and academic scholar. Of-fucking-course.

“You can’t be too sure.” You shake your head. “I’m not as smart as you.”

He scrunches his nose to brush off your comment. “Eh,” he deadpans, shrugging. “I’m sure you did well, _____. You’ll get in.” He takes a pause then he exhales, gripping onto the bottom windowpane of your car. “Jungkook also took his yesterday. Hopefully, we all get in.”

You could only nod and Namjoon must’ve seen how that made you tense for a second. He clears his throat and knocks a tin of your car. “Drive home safe. Hope to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, you will.”

“Text me when you get home.”

“Oh, I will.”

He chuckles and repeats, “I really did miss you.”

“You too. Need to catch up with… everything.”

“And ignore Hoseok, by the way. Hasn’t gotten his dick wet for a week, excuse him.”

“I’m literally standing right next to you.”

SECOND DAY OF PLAYOFFS…

Sans the library studies from your morning routine, you take into account to visit Joohyun’s shop, Irene’s, every morning for whatever you need. It could all stem from buying sweets or drinks to reheating lunch boxes to borrowing cash.

Today is for the former.

You’ll be needing to replenish energy and the way to do that is through sugar. Loads of them.

“You getting nervous?” you ask.

Amid your morning walk, you are on line with Jimin who you swear is nervous but tells you otherwise.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I feel… alright?” Jimin sighs.

“That doesn’t sound confident,” you tease. “Where’s my cocky boyfriend?”

“When have I ever been cocky?” he scoffs.

“A few times—mostly in bed—but I’ll take that point,” you goad.

You hear him laugh on the other line. “Can’t wait to see you.”

In that, you feel the syllables stretching with the way he smiles. Before you were with him, you found it corny how you read things like hearing someone’s smile from a call but fuck do you get it now. You get it. And it feels nice catching details like that.

You bite your bottom lip. “Me too,” you reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited in weeks. Probably months even, for something. And all I’ve ever been was… tired and annoyed. Mostly, tired.”

“Mhm,” Jimin hums. “I forgot to ask you last night about your exams. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“That’s fine and you know what, I don’t think I did that well.” You pout. “Before you yell at me, I’m not just saying this. I swear I feel this way.”

“That can’t possibly be right.” You hear a shuffle from his line, probably him shifting on his seat. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

You couldn’t help the laugh the blooms from your chest. “Okay, now you’re just lying to my face.”

“Not to your face. And no,” he emphasizes his decline, “I am not lying.”

“It’s either that or you don’t know that many people which is impossible, by the way.”

Jimin laughs again then he composes himself. “You’re getting that grant, babe. I’m sure.”

You raise your brow. “You’re ‘sure’?”

He laughs. “Okay—maybe not sure, but you get me.”

“Whatever, Park Jimin,” you sass.

It only occurs to you that you never actually told Jimin that you’re looking forward to a month-long exchange trip in New Zealand for winter, not a fifty percent off scholarship grant. You aren’t sure why you didn’t tell him in the first place. It’s probably because you applied for it just when Jimin started his training. Then weeks went on and on.

It’s difficult for you to tell him because then, after barely seeing each other for about three weeks because of his training and your preparation for exams, it’s again another month of bare absence, of almost concrete silence between the two of you. It’s again another time for uncertain developments and yearning for lingering touches on your skin.

You’re scared that he’ll think you don’t think much about spending time with him because you do. But the New Zealand trip will be a box full of opportunities too, and you cannot risk not being able to go.

But after this for sure.

Fuck it.

Inhaling sharply, you repeat previous sentiment, “Can’t wait to see you.”

“Cheesy.” His voice is flirty, its rasp sticking to the word.

“What do you want me to say then?” It’s a challenge you don’t want to lose. “I’m ready to suck you like a champ,” you say, tone lacing in feigned seduction before spared milliseconds of bursting into laughter. “How was that? How does that sound?”

“Sexy,” he muses, grinning. “And what if I lose then?”

“Don’t say that.” You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth. “Well, I’ll make you feel like a champ then.”

“Yeah, okay. I gotta admit, that sounds kinda hot,” Jimin laughs.

You grin. “Today should be all about you, babe. Do well and I’ll text or call you when I get there. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When the line disappears into the plainness, into thin air, it’s just on time with Joohyun noticing you from the counter through the glassed walls of the cozy shop, allowing the central color of brown in different schemes to the exit, displaying itself for people to see orange-turning furies from the islands to the select bricked walls and to the waxed wooden floors. She does her usual routine every time she sees you: untie her apron, leave the counter, and pull her phone from her pocket.

You enter, rolling your eyes at her.

“Good morning to you too, _____,” Joohyun exclaims with a wide smile.

“Get back to the counter,” you say.

“What?” She frowns. “But I just got out.”

“Your shop opened literally fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know. I opened,” she says, mocking you with her tone. Barely. “Contrary to what you think sometimes, I do work here.”

“Exactly,” you say sharply. “I’m gonna order something.”

She rolls her eyes, reties the ribbon of her apron, and slip her phone back into her pocket. “What do you want?”

Your eyes land on the untouched blueberry cheesecake caged in glasses as an answer. Joohyun is quick to her senses, crouching down to have herself almost face-to-face with your dessert.

“How many of this do you want?”

“Four slices, please,” you declare, excitement evident in your phrasing.

She straightens her back once all the slices are neatly placed in a small paper box for you. “Aren’t these too much for a morning?”

“Don’t shame me. Also, I have a roommate to feed.”

Her eyes widen at your response then she presents you a tight smile. “Okay.” Then she announces the price of your order. “Will you tip your cashier?”

“No. When can I get like a friend discount in here?”

“You won’t,” she says curtly, processing your order and payment into the slim machine. “Look at you getting all sugar-high for the game later.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I need all the help I need. I barely slept last night. I had to pick up Seulgi from a party then I had to bring her up to the room—it’s all such a mess last night. She almost puked in my car too.”

“You went to a party and you never told me?”

“Joohyun,” you say through gritted teeth. You point your fingers to your ears for emphasis. “Listen. I said I had to pick Seulgi up.”

“Sorry. All I heard was… party,” she says, whispering the last word into a short-lived outbreath. “So, saw anything interesting? Flaring testosterone levels? See any of my ex making out with someone? Or maybe your ex?”

“I saw Namjoon and Seokjin,” you interrupt. “Jungkook was there too.”

“You two talk?”

You shake your head. “You know what, I feel like you messed with my head, Joohyun. Because last night, I honestly felt like there was this part of me—just a small, small, small, tiny part of me—that was just ready to call his name and talk to him.”

She pushes the box with an attached receipt to you before raising her hands, admitting a defeat you never declared her to do so. “Hey, don’t blame this one on me. I was just saying.”

You look away and you could feel your forehead scrunching up to a concerned look. Without feeling the need to, you sigh.

“Well, you saying it,” you bite your lip, “just did something. Opened wounds.”

Joohyun shakes her head, not entirely getting your point. “Can I just ask? Am I okay here? Like, you’re not mad at me or anything, right, for telling you something that I’m sure you already know?”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, good. Because you don’t sound good. That didn’t sound good.”

“Is it bad that I feel this way?” You swallow and continue, “About him?”

“It’s not a crime to miss someone, _____.”

“I never said I miss him.”

“You didn’t have to, though,” she counters, not bothering to pause a little. “I think you’ll only know whether it’s a good thing or if it’s a bad thing once you start talking to him. For now, I don’t think it’s… you know, something—or anything, but you know, don’t miss the chance to turn into something.”

You nod slowly. “You’re right. Not sure about that last part though. I feel like you’re just planting stuff in my head again.” A beat for how ludicrous it sounds and you continue, “Fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. In fact, I don’t want to. Maybe I’m just missing high school in general.”

Her brow raises and you’re already so well-aware of what she’s about to say. She really has a way of making you want to eat back the words you just spat to avoid being embarrassed by her teases.

“Oh, you miss high school, huh,” she starts. “Is it because of Jungkook or… maybe Yoongi? Aw, shit. It’s been a while since I even said his name.”

“Fuck you.”

“Are you still in contact with him?�� she asks, genuinely curious.

“Of course, not, Joohyun. Do I look like I don’t respect myself?” You don’t wait for her answer and beat her into speaking by saying, “Okay. Don’t answer that.”

“Do you wanna know some classified information?” she asks, shifting the topic. On her note, at the control of the conversation, she says, before you could even answer, “Jungkook and you must have pretty similar tastes—andandand before you yell at me, I can say so because he frequents here ever since he started ordering here. Thanks to you.”

“Again, fuck you,” you hiss. “I didn’t want to know that.”

She scoffs, ignoring your statement. “Whatever. Enjoy your stuff and see you later.”

The venue is already packed with people when you arrive, many of them are students. The student division of the two universities can be clearly seen from afar. Outsiders are even dressed up to support whoever they’re supporting and it, without doubt, shows. The cheering squads are already up on their feet, performing their bone-breaking choreographies, shouting on top of their lungs to make out their cheers for the players.

You text Jimin about your arrival and where you’re seated. You’re sure he’ll easily spot you later. He does it every time you attend his games.

Instead of proceeding to a crowded spot among the seats, you go to where Seulgi is and she’s sitting beside Jennie, a mutual friend, chilling at a rather bald spot in the seats, but still only a few seats far from others. Between you and Seulgi, you’ve known Jennie longer although you two weren’t that close in high school.

College really couldn’t pull you from high school.

“Finally, you’re here,” Jennie squeals. “I barely see you around anymore. Park Jimin’s really taking all your time, huh?”

“Girl, I wish. Was busy with the scholarship stuff,” you correct, yawning.

“And girl, you better get it,” Jennie proclaims before biting onto her chip. “Seulgi told me about her drunk night. I salute! Thank you for saving our fallen soldier.”

“You owe me. You owe me big time,” you sternly hiss at Seulgi and she nods adamantly. “So what you two been up to?” you ask, shifting comfortably on your seat.

“What have you been up to, huh?” Seulgi teases. “I didn’t know you were friends with most of the guys in the baseball teams! What the fuck, _____? You never gave me this information!”

Jennie faces you with a mischievous smile. “Ooh, looks like Seulgi wants an introduction with the boys. You’re freshman year ‘bout to get spicy, Seulgi! You don’t know the land of opportunities _____ is going to show you.”

“Jennie, stop planting ideas in her head!” You glare, shaking your head. “I’m not introducing anyone to anyone. And Seulgi, c’mon, now,” you say, a bit disappointed. “Them, really?”

“What? You’re friends with them! Why can’t I be?”

“Okay, fine! Whatever. I’m not your mom. But Jennie will do that for you.” You turn to Jennie. “Right, Jennie? Since this is your bright idea anyway.”

Jennie’s smile fades but she blurts a “yes,” anyway after long negotiations with Seulgi.

Soon, the teams arrive in their team jerseys and whatever gears they need, and the volume of the cheers even turn up to a certain extent that has the seats vibrating a bit. The crowd follows the chants through and through. Of course, the cheers are louder from the home team aka your university.

The loudest is probably when Jungkook’s name was announced. But it’s also hard to make that decision when Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok start to make their entrance one-by-one and the cheers seem to get louder and louder. It has your head reeling, that even when the stadium seats are not completely filled, the clusters of small groups have it in them to shake the plate.

“Holy fuck,” Seulgi chuckles as she covers her ears. “My ears!”

“Jungkook. Golden boy,” Jennie states.

The visiting team then makes their entrance and even if they’re the visiting ones, Taehyung gets his share of screams too.

Your friend, Jennie, on the other hand, chooses to sing-shout a romantic song about how time should go back, an homage for your past with Taehyung which was as shallow as it gets. She does that instead of doing what normal people do in a game—cheer. And you could only slap her leg to shut the hell up.

“Imagine you and Taehyung, what it could’ve been.”

“You know what, Jennie? No. And this is getting old.”

“No, I don’t but I’ll keep doing it.” She raises her brow and you could only shake your head. “Lighten up, _____. I was just kidding.”

“Taehyung’s hot,” comes a direct whisper on your ear, making your hairs stand.

“Fuck! When the hell did you get here?” you ask, startled, while Joohyun hops from the back bleachers and take the empty seat beside you.

“I was looking for you and I was contacting you but you weren’t answering your phone,” Joohyun complains, then she winks at Seulgi then Jennie. “Long time no see, girls!” She wiggles her brows. “Isn’t this exciting?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely! It gets more exciting every time one player comes out and we tease _____ about him,” Jennie says, chuckling.

“And so far, who? Just one. Taehyung. That’s right,” you say dismissively.

“And Jungkook,” Joohyun points out.

“We were friends. We didn’t do anything.”

“Looks like you did, though,” Jennie backs.

“Yeah, definitely,” Seulgi agrees.

“You too? Really?” you moan.

“I don’t know—I just thought…” Seulgi defends without an drop of confidence.

“Sometimes, try not thinking.”

Joohyun groans. “We tease you because we lived boring lives, _____. Mundane. Dull. Humdrum. Monoto—”

“Got it, thesaurus,” you interrupt.

And Jimin finally comes out and you’re sure he winked at you, making you bite your bottom lip to suppress your smile. The crowd roars with the announcement of his name and you’re too flustered to even mingle in with the shouts.

“Aw, is _____ wet yet?” Jennie teases, making Seulgi and Joohyun snicker.

“Shut up,” you hiss but you’re smiling.

Fuck it.

“God, we get it, _____. You have a boyfriend,” Joohyun mumbles.

“Damn right, I do.”

Everyone gets to their position and the game starts with Hoseok pitching while Jimin twirls his ankles and gets ready to bat.

A competitive atmosphere envelops the stadium. Throughout the game, even with your few-minutes-spaced reminders to keep your eyes on Jimin, you couldn’t help but allow them to drift to Jungkook. He just plays so damn well. It’s no wonder this university recruited him when it had a chance.

That’s Jungkook, alright.

CUSP OF SUMMER, FOUR YEARS AGO…

“You free on Saturday?” Jungkook had to ask.

It looked like he wasn’t paying attention to you—or to anything really. He was busy fidgeting over your fled and crazed application papers on the counter, while managing an itch on his nape that never seemed to disappear. Crooking his head to the right as his fingers lightly lifted few pages of your forms, he took a peek.

“Hmm,” you hummed, stretching your hands heavenward with an eye closed, moaning at the delicious stretch. “If this is you asking me to go see you play then…”

He cleared his throat. “Then what?”

“Of course, I’m there. Are we even friends or what?”

“Good. I was starting to doubt that.”

“I don’t see you for like three days then you start saying shit like this to me.” You sneered before rolling your eyes. “You’re the one on training, mister.”

“Okay—okay. You win this one.”

“Mhm. There’s a teeny, tiny problem though.”

Jungkook’s brow raised in concern. “What?”

“I forgot to buy tickets.”

“Luckily for you,” he slid a ticket from his back pocket next to your cup of coffee, “there’s this.”

“Aw, no,” you cooed. “You have this reserved for me?”

He nodded then he processed your facial expression. “That’s it. That’s the face of someone who thinks the world revolves around them.”

You ignored him with scoff. “You really can’t live without me around you, huh?”

You pressed your hands to your chest for emphasis while your brows drown a quarter span of your forehead. Your teeth couldn’t even release their bite from your bottom lip, doing their best to suppress your jokey beam. But what came next – you hadn’t expected.

Never.

And it will be in your head for quite some time.

“Of course I want you there. You’re my lucky charm,” Jungkook stated without hesitation, shifting his gaze from the ticket then to your eyes. His were earnest.

Yours were something else but they softened. Fuck it.

You did not expect it and it came worse to you. Because now, you were flustered. Flustered like the times he would envelope your hand in his when crossing streets without telling you beforehand. Flustered like when he had kissed the top of your head because you were crying. Flustered like this.

He flashed you a smile, one that only cared to lift the corners of his mouth, before leaving your sight, attending to the game he abandoned on your computer.

“Lucky charm,” you repeated in a small voice. “Lucky charm, huh.”

Not even your boyfriend said stuff like that to you.

As if on cue, your phone lit up with a message from your boyfriend, Yoongi, asking you if you would be free on Saturday.

You didn’t reply, did not even bother tapping your fingers on your phone screen. You didn’t even bother to draw your phone closer to you to read his message. You just wouldn’t and couldn’t.

You sighed. “Jackass.”

If asked to describe your relationship with Yoongi was like, the first word that would pop up in your head was – messy. That itself was enough to tell how problematic your relationship was with him but you couldn’t end it. Yoongi would fuck it up; miss out on significant events of your life, make you wait for hours for a date, leave you on read for days—weeks even, then contact you back – like today. But you took him over and over again in your arms.

“Heard that,” Jungkook announced, clearing the silence between the two of you.

“Don’t worry. It’s not you, Kook.”

“I know it’s not. It’s always one person when it comes to you and that word, _____.” He scoffed, followed by a short chuckle then his conclusion: “That was Yoongi for sure.”

“Damn right.”

When Jungkook’s game ended or after his team won, his time was quickly occupied by some guy you weren’t familiar with. He was dragged to the corner of the stadium, near the entrance made for the players.

Even then, you did your usual routine after every Jungkook game, wait by the doors of the guys’ locker room. As Jungkook was kept busy by some guy, practically all his teammates had exited the room and bid goodbyes to you along reminders of “party at Namjoon’s later” when they caught you leaning on the wall beside the doorstep.

Almost every one of his teammates were out and about in preparation for the party later, getting doses of alcohol in cans, glass bottles, and even those gigantic jugs, and also probably, well most likely, weed, when Jungkook finally gone to shower. Great. You’d be waiting for another set of dread minutes.

The door once again opened while you were busy formulating a reply to Yoongi, the classic type-and-delete approach over an apology for leaving him on read until Saturday—or today arrived. Actually it was the classic type-and-delete-and-curse approach. You were thinking this was all too late because Saturday was almost over anyway.

This was you giving in again and you surely wouldn’t be telling Jungkook about this.

You were doing so well.

Fuck it.

You started typing.

“Hey, _____,” was the greeting of a deep voice from beside you.

“Hey, Tae,” you greeted back, locking your phone.

Taehyung stood next to you, peeking from the small opening he made with the door. But he was close. Close enough for you smell his mint shampoo and a bit out-of-character baby soap. The scent matched well with his fresh face and sodden dark locks, however.

“There’s a seat here,” he noted.

“Great. My legs are killing me,” you said in relief and he opened the door wider for you.

You followed him to the lockers and it was only him left and of course, Jungkook in the showers inside.

Taehyung closed his locker then leaned his back on it, looking down on you as you sat on a bench across him, only a meter away.

If you were asked to describe your relationship with Taehyung, it’d be very easy to do so. It was as shallow as it could get. Things with him were the epitome of almost’s. He’d make a move then nothing happened next.

“You have plans after this?” Taehyung started.

“Is this your pick-up line?” you teased.

“I guess pick-up lines are my bottom-of-the-barrel approach to finally get it on with you then.” He chuckled, making you take note of the fact that his voice even sounded deeper when he did. “So, what are you up to?”

“To wherever Jungkook goes,” you answered. “It’s his day anyway.”

“So you’ll be at the party later then.”

You scoffed. “With or without Jungkook, I’ll be there for sure. Won’t miss it for the world.”

“Would you mind if we pick up where we’d always left off?” was his brazen request.

That made you stand up from being seated, meters closing into bare inches when you branded the floor with your footsteps.

Taunting to be as bold as him, you smirked.

“And where is that?” you asked breathily, grazing your fingers on the loose part of fabric clinging on his waist.

He smirked, aiming to tear down your dominant demeanor with how he towered over you but you contested, keeping your eyes locked with his. “Pretty,” he merely commented, clearing your face from the stands of your hair.

“Pretty?” you repeated.

Taehyung got a hold of your wrist but he kept his touch merely centimeters above your skin. He skimmed to your elbow and upwards, upwards, upwards until he reached to swipe his thumb on your bottom lip. “So pretty,” he repeated bending down his neck to whisper them in your ears.

He claimed a spot on your neck with a small peck just when you thought he’d claim you in for a kiss.

“You letting me take you home tonight?”

And fuck were you ready to just jump on his request.

His voice dripping honey didn’t help at all.

“That’s a question I can’t answer,” you swallowed when he nipped on your jaw to hide your panting, “right now.”

“Uh huh. Why is that?” He placed a hand on your back, dangerously close to your ass. His other hand cupped your cheek into his palm, making it easier for his lips to fan hot breaths over yours.

Again, you swallowed.

“You’ll have to convince me better,” you said weakly.

Fuck it.

“Later, yeah?” He leaned in and right when you hoped he would finally enclose his lips with yours, he only kissed the corner of your lips, making you yearn as if minutes of him playing with you weren’t enough.

You lifted your head, trying to catch his lips which after two quick attempts, he allowed with a smug chuckle.

It wasn’t a deep one. It was open-mouthed, wet. A trial for what comes later.

“Doesn’t look like you need much convincing though,” Taehyung teased, giving your ass a squeeze.

The only answer you could give him was a moan and another kiss which ran a few seconds before he pulled away.

“What now?” you whined in a shy voice, annoyed, making him chuckle.

“You’ve got to tell me though.”

“Tell you what?”

“What’s up with you and Jungkook? I need to know so I don’t fuck up,” Taehyung elaborated sharply. “I mean, you’re always together and shit.”

Your lips were left agape and you ran your tongue behind your teeth as you contemplated. You didn’t know what to tell Taehyung because you didn’t know the answer for that in one statement. You could say your best friends though but why couldn’t you?

“Jungkook!” you shouted instead, startling Taehyung.

“What?” Jungkook shouted back from the showers. “I’m coming out!”

“Okay! Good.” You turn back to Taehyung. “We’re friends.”

“So, I wouldn’t be fucking up anything then? Great,” Taehyung said that had your heart beating faster. “That’s what I liked to hear.”

“You’ve got to know though,” you added. “I’ve got a very complicated relationship with someone right now.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, I’m not really worried about getting in the middle of that,” he said, a finger sliding on your lips.

“Taehyung, back off, please,” Jungkook interrupted, a bit of frustration hinting in his tone. “I already told you; she’s taken.”

Taehyung untangled his hands from your waist but his smirk lingered.

You withdrew from Taehyung, walking up to Jungkook who stood at the boundary of the locker room and the shower room. You mouthed to Jungkook inaudibly with an annoyed expression, “Really now?”

He raised a brow at you as he tongued his cheek. “Yeah, _____,” he said sarcastically, nodding his head. “Anyway, let’s go. I’ve got something to tell you.”

The only thing you could do was follow him. He, who was walking in a real hurried pace with his gym bag. Before the two of you exited the locker room and left Taehyung alone, you looked back at him and he gave you a wink.

You two didn’t really move too far from the locker rooms anyway. Just by the doorstep when you waited for him earlier.

“Okay, what’s up?” you asked with a smile, hoping for some good news.

Before he opened his mouth, he gave in to a wide smile he must’ve been biting on his cheek to repress.

Alluring features of him smiling were of different earthly gifts.

“Oh, my God. It is good news! Wait—wait, let me guess! Is this about the guy outside?” You waited for his nod which he gave. “Okay, wait—no. I don’t wanna guess. I give up. What is it? Who was that?” were your shooting questions, putting him on hot seat.

“So that guy is the baseball coach of the national university,” Jungkook introduced slowly but he didn’t continue.

“Well…?”

“He’s asking me to try-out for them.” He paused to exhale. “And if I get in, which he kept telling me I’ve got a great chance in, I’ll go to college there. Free.”

As if it was your triumph to celebrate, your eyes widened as you jumped to hug him tightly. “Oh, my God! That’s so great! I’m so happy for you, Kook! Oh, my God! This is big!”

He let go of his gym bag to fully wrap his arms around your waist, almost completely burying his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. “It’s still not sure though. Only if I get in—”

“Shh,” you hushed. “One thing at a time.”

“Okay.” He surrendered to you, into the embrace.

“Okay, maybe two things at a time,” you recounted. “First, your win. And this, second. Fuck, I really am your lucky charm, aren’t I?”

“You have a way of making things about you, _____,” he countered instead. But again, he surrendered to you. “But fuck yeah, you really are.”

“Everything’s falling into place for you, damn.” You hugged him tighter, leaving your cheek on his chest. “I’m so happy for you I could honestly cry but to save face, I will not.”

“Thank you, _____,” was his straight reply.

The vibration of his chest suddenly became the beeping alarm in your head on the proximity you two share. But no one was pulling away. Not you. You couldn’t.

Not when hugging him like this felt so good, so warm. So perfect.

You looked up to tease him about the fast beats of his heart, but as if you were caught in act, as if captured to an arrest, you stiffened when his eyes were already onto yours.

But no one was looking away. Again, it was not you. You couldn’t.

It didn’t take long ticks of seconds for you to feel the burning of your cheeks, pinks finally looming to your face. Yet still, you couldn’t, wouldn’t dare look away. And all this time, you were only thinking about how it was you who should look away, not realizing that he wasn’t moving either.

Because it couldn’t be him who would look away too.

It couldn’t be him who would unwrap his arms and pull away finally.

Despite all these thoughts, Jungkook knew that if no one let go, he could lean in. Fuck, he could. You were only a few centimeters away. He really would. He would yet he couldn’t so he stayed the same way you did.

Today was special. This was special.

Today was his.

“You guys have a ride?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly echoed from the locker room, making the both of you jump.

It was you who had to let go.

“Y-Yeah, Tae!” you shouted back.

“Alright,” Taehyung noted, exiting the room and moving past the two of you. He looked back to wink at you. “See you there, _____.”

You bit your lips.

“Really, ____?” Jungkook asked.

“He’s joking,” you defended.

“What is it you see in him anyway?” Jungkook still asked, ignoring your statement.

“Kook, you ask that about every guy I’ve been with,” you stated. “Nothing’s even happened between me and Tae. I just wanna fool around with someone. And everything I have with Yoongi is so close to coming to an end. So, I guess that one’s out the window.”

You waited for Jungkook to speak.

“For real, this time.”

“For real, this time?”

Your statements overlapped, except that Jungkook’s was a question. It was clear that he had enough of you saying the same thing over and over again.

You chuckled.

“Yes, Kook,” you assured. “And you know what? Let’s not talk about this. Today is your day!”

Jungkook chuckled at that, certain that you were only trying to move the discussion away.

“Get drunk as fuck and fuck who you wanna fuck tonight,” you kidded.

He looked down. “You’d think I would,” he mumbled under his breath so silently you barely heard something and you didn’t question it.

In bare silence, the best thing you could bring out was a wide smile on your lips you couldn’t bring to stop. It was enough for Jungkook to feel like he was on top of the world and he could only mentally curse at himself for feeling like this. It was just a smile anyway. Nothing big. Nothing big.

But his chest that barely caged his pumping heart could only do so much. He felt that even with you only a few inches away, you could feel the vibrations in the small space between the two of you.

He hoped it did.

All this over a smile which wasn’t anything big.

Nothing was ever a big deal until he felt your touch. Your fingers pulling at his fingers then upward to wrap them around his wrists quickly, gripping lightly higher and higher until you held onto his arms for balance, in order to tiptoe and kiss his cheek. You felt him tense.

“Congratulations,” you said as you levelled with his stare, as if it was so simple.

It hadn’t been clear to Jungkook that it was you who leaned in.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you said when you figured he remained silent.

He shook his head. “Of course not.”

You bit your lower lip and indulged him into another tight hug, crossing your arms over his shoulders. And his, followed around your waist.

There were two chests hammering at that time.

No one could tell if it was their own or the other’s.

PRESENT, SECOND DAY OF PLAYOFFS…

Once the game is over, your arrival outside the visiting team’s locker room is one that could be classified as “a minute too late” but it’s the best thing you could do. The floods of college students and outsiders at all entrances and exits have made it impossible for you to get to the lockers as soon as the game ended.

You are left with an opened door, allowing you access to scan whoever’s left inside and no, Jimin’s not there anymore.

“Hey, _____.”

However, Taehyung is.

“Hey, Tae,” you greet back. “Is Jimin there?”

“I thought he left to come see you…” he trails, “but I do realize that that’s wrong now because you are here.”

“Nice,” you comment curtly.

“Hey, c’mon, now. Cut me some slack. I’m tired,” he says with a chuckle. “You don’t even look like you’re happy to see me.”

You quickly feel bad for how you responded to him. “Sorry,” you apologize.

He raises a brow then leans on the doorframe with crossed arms.

“For being rude,” you continue. “And for you know, the game.”

“Well, what can I say?” he says, ticking his head to the side. “You really are Jungkook’s lucky charm.”

You don’t answer, not really in the right state of mind to do so. Especially when Jungkook’s declaration of you as his lucky charm – that specific moment of your life – is the one thing that’s been keeping your senses awake, having been replayed in your head for so many times amid the game until now.

“Here I thought you could’ve been my lucky charm. Turns out, it’s just because we were on the same team back then,” he quips with a chuckle, wrapping a towel around his neck.

“Okay, Tae,” you breathe out, not knowing how to respond to him. “I gotta go look for him. Also, I am happy to see you.”

Taehyung gives you his most charming smile. “Go find him and tell him not to sulk.”

Meters at a turn of your heels, you see the doorstep for the home team’s locker room and some players are out there, loudly conversing. Before you could even pass by them, Namjoon, being apparently one of the players outside, doesn’t waste a second calling you.

“_____!” Namjoon shouts, making you turn. “Thanks for the good luck last night.”

You cringe. “Yeah, well…”

It doesn’t take him a full sentence to understand why. “Oh, yeah, fuck. I forgot. Sorry. And thank you. But also sorry ‘bout that. Sorry it turned out that way—which is a good thing for us but you know, sorry. Okay—I’ll stop.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine, I guess.” The best you could give is a small smile. “And congratulations, by the way!”

“Thank you!” is his quick response. “I’d hug you but I really haven’t… showered.”

“That’s fine,” you says, snickering a little.

The locker door opens and the players outside hoot because finally, it’d be their turn to shower. Of course, as though the universe has a way of telling you things, the locker room spews a newly-showered Jungkook. A Jungkook of red-tinted cheeks and drenched curls from the hot shower.

Suddenly, it’s quiet and Namjoon isn’t doing any saving.

So you try.

“C-Congratulations,” is your nervous congratulatory attempt.

And just as you think Jungkook would answer you, he doesn’t, not when his teammates round up to him and carry him on their arms to celebrate his successful contributions to the team. As it’s many of his runs that concluded their win.

You shift your gaze to Namjoon who’s just as dumbfounded as you. When you shake your head, he shrugs—the contributing factor to your decision to leave abruptly and find Jimin who still, hasn’t replied to any of your texts.

Fuck it.

#f: circles over circles #bts smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x oc #by:lacielre

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lacielre · 4 years

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using tumblr drains all my knowledge i think

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lacielre · 4 years

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circles over circles, 1 (m)

PAIRING jimin/reader, jungkook/reader

RATING mature

GENRE college au | smut, romance, heavy angst, friends to “enemies” to lovers, childhood friends, established relationship

WARNINGS fingering, lots of dwelling in the past

WORD COUNT 6.2k

PARTS 1, 2

PRESENT-DAY AUTUMN…

These past few days, you’ve always spent extended hours inside the twenty-four-seven-open campus library. Sometimes, you would even feel that the night skipped a few hours advanced into morning because you’ve drifted off to sleep. A few times. Only a few but more than thrice. But it’s difficult not to when it’s purely quiet, only a number of flickered lights to brighten up the tables and shelves, and most importantly, just at the right temperature amid this tiptoeing winter that’s only a few steps away.

Tonight, making use of the nap you had from the noon of yesterday, you exit the library around 5AM. You have some hours to jog back to your dorm then take a short snooze before your classes start.

On the march home, you take a stop at a small independent coffee shop a few blocks away from your building to take-out breakfast for you and your roommate, Seulgi, whose classes are always at 7:30 in the morning. A torture for the nursing student you share your space with.

Twenty-minute walks to the dorm are beneficial; they stand as your exercise, you convince yourself. If someone asks if you ever do anything to become fit, you can just say you “jog” daily when all you do is lazily drag your feet across the damp asphalt through the fog thickly peppered on the air.

With hands full of two paper bags, one barely clipped on your elbow and a drink carrier of two cups of hot coffee hanging from your left hand, opening the glass door of your building is a test indeed. As you struggle to pull the metal bar attached to it, someone pushes it from the inside for you.

“Thank you so—” you start but have to cut when you see who it is, “much.”

“Welcome,” Jungkook says succinctly. He sniffles as he opens the door wide and ticks his head to the side, signalling you to get inside quickly before the breeze starts seeping in.

“Oh. Oh yeah, right. Thanks,” you say again. “Thanks. It’s kinda freezing out.”

He brushes a finger under his nose and nods while his other hand is kept busy as he removes his airpods from his ears. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re out early. Sun’s not even out yet. You shouldn’t be outside this dark.”

“Yeah, well, I—uh—had to study. Exams are coming up,” you explain. And you’re thinking, how and why the fuck are you talking to him right now?

“Need help with that?” Jungkook nods at your stuff with both hands tucked inside his black sweatpants.

“No? No. No, thanks.”

He only looks at you.

“Yes. I do. I do, actually. Um, could you just click the elevator floor for me?” you request with fumbled thoughts and heart that’s beating fast.

“Sure.” He shrugs.

“Thanks.”

He chuckles at that.

You note to yourself: stop saying “thanks” all the time.

You lead the way to the opened elevator and Jungkook only follows as he brushes a hand through his long, curly hair, which you have only noticed. How the hell is he allowed to walk around this campus looking like that?

A step closer to you, you then notice how much about Jungkook has changed since you two kind of fell off, not that you two were ever involved romantically, but you two were best—good friends. Sort of. You were with each other throughout high school anyway, and not being able to be his friend in college made you think that it’s probably supposed to be this way.

And it broke you.

But some friendships fall apart.

Many people who are older than you – your cousins, aunts, summer job colleagues – have told you a lot of the friendships you’ve made along the way during high school don’t necessarily last. You agreed with that.

You just didn’t think it’d be the one with him.

“Which floor?” Jungkook asks.

“Oh!” You jump a bit. “Eighth.”

“Alright,” he says, and right when he’s about to get off the lift, he turns around and takes care of an imaginary itch on his forehead. “You know what, I’ll help you with that ‘til you get to your room. That looks expensive.”

It’s not.

“It’s not,” you say aloud. You go red. “It’s just from the small shop three blocks away, the one beside the bookstore, across the post office. It’s not that known but food and drinks are delicious there. Plus very, very cheap.”

Jungkook exhales with a smile as the elevator closes. “I see.”

No one talks and you aren’t sure if you’re thankful for the elevator music filling the air enveloping the both of you. If anything, it probably makes the situation worse, awkward. And you hate that no one’s speaking.

“You’re up early,” you comment finally after a few dreaded seconds.

“Training,” he answers quickly.

“Ah, right.” You nod. “The game’s around the corner?”

“Uh-huh.” This time, he nods. “Your boyfriend playing?”

You glow red at that and you swallow. “Yes. H-He will.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.”

“Right.”

You’re not sure how two conflicting temperatures are playing with your body at the same time. Right this moment, you are completely frozen on your spot and your cold hands are sweating. On the other hand, your breath is hitched and warmth has its fashion to conquer you. You feel hot. It wouldn’t take long for bullets of sweat to appear on your forehead.

It’s not difficult to find a reason why he knows you’re dating Jimin, an athlete from another university that will be playing against your university’s team in the coming weeks. Because Jimin, like all good-looking athletes in campuses, is popular. Sort of—well, it’s college.

Jungkook takes the beverage carrier and one of the wrinkled paper bags from you as soon as the metallic gold doors part ways. He gives you a small smile, one that barely looks like one but the sparks in his eyes make up for it.

“Lead the way,” he says, motioning you to.

“Right. Okay,” you say, walking forward then left.

As you sweat to the fabrics of your jacket, your feet shuffle rapidly through the unclean, patterned tiles of the hallway. Doors rush past your vision until you’re finally in front of your own—your home in this stressing universe of a university.

“This is me.” You turn to smile at him only to catch him looking intently at the golden plate of numbers plastered on your black-painted wooden door. You take your stuff from his arms gently. “Thank you so, so much.”

Would it be wrong to tell him you missed him, talking to him?

It must be.

“You’re welcome, _____.”

It’s the first time anyone of you mentioned the other’s name. You didn’t think it would be him who would recall that he actually knows the name of the figure he’s talking to. And the same thing could be said to you.

“See you around,” you mutter and you couldn’t help but give in to the stretch of a tight-lipped smile across your mouth as you add, “Jungkook.”

“Don’t walk around… when… uh, it’s dark,” he manages to say.

Silently, you say, “Okay,” in feathered breaths.

With that, he finally turns around while you twist your toes to face your door instead, not bothering to watch him walk away until he finds his way to the elevator. You fish for your keys inside your pocket. And of course, it takes you a minute or two to finally get inside your room and find your roommate with her hands covering her mouth.

“Were you just outside with Jungkook?” Suelgi asks through her palms.

“Thanks for helping me open the door, by the way,” you say satirically as you sigh. “And yep, that’s him alright.”

“Did you just sigh?” she asks in disbelief.

“It’s Jungkook.”

“Oh, right… history.” She wiggles her brows. “Oh, to have such a not-boring high school life!”

“Boring is fine,” you state. “Also, I-uh, brought some breakfast.”

“Yay! OMG,” she squeals. “Thank you! I was starving last night but I had to sleep it off because there was no food in the fridge.”

Your forehead creases. “You could’ve ordered.”

“I know that. I just chose to sleep instead.” She approaches you and kisses your head as she snatches the paper bags from your hand. “You see, this is why Jimin loves you so much, _____.”

“You got what you wanted. No need to flatter me.”

“Were you out again studying?” Her voice floats farther from your auditory perception as she strides away to unpack the brown bags on the kitchen counter. “These smell good!”

You take off your shoes. “Yup,” you say as you let gravity pull your body to the surrender of the couch. “I’m just gonna nap.”

“Hey, eat with me first,” she requests then giggles. “We’re gonna talk about Jeon.”

“Not funny!”

AUTUMN, FOUR YEARS AGO…

Even amid the tormenting coldness brought by the icy wind, you needed to go to tutorial lessons to prepare for the upcoming exams. This would determine your future, they told you and you held onto that idea. The lessons were held every 7PM until 11PM at the building about five streets behind your apartment. It was one from the many commercial modern-styled buildings lined by the highway tracks.

By the time the tutorial ended, you already had your things rammed into your backpack so you could go home before it could even get darker. You didn’t know anyone in the room and it wasn’t like everyone had the energy to still be friendly, to ask you for some carton drinks on the way home, or to relish on a three-dollar-meal dinner at some twenty-four-seven fast-food chain.

The soles of your rubber shoes were on the frosty cement in no time.

“_____!”

You turned around quickly, trying to find Jungkook’s voice. That was his for sure. It didn’t take long for your eyes to locate him. He was at a convenience store at the corner, across where you stood.

“Kook!” you shouted back.

He rushed to you quickly with white breath mimicking the way his lips exhaled air. “There shouldn’t be a reason you’re out this late.”

“Right,” you remarked sarcastically, kicking lightly at his ankle. “Like you have any business to be out this late.”

“I was craving for some noodles,” he rebutted so simply. “You still attending prep class?”

“Of course, I am. Not everyone’s a star athlete like you.”

He glared at you. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Jungkook managed to say silently.

“Come again. Is this concern I hear?” you teased, dramatically putting a hand on your chest.

“Forget it.”

You huffed at him. “I’m trying to get into the university that’s recruiting you. I’m not pushing myself to get in for you, though—well, not entirely. It’s—”

“Your first choice. Your dream university or whatever, I know,” he finished.

“Exactly. That’s why you should be supporting me. I’m doing just fine. See?” You put your open palms by your shoulders. “No stress.”

“I can’t take you seriously with those bags under your eyes, _____.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I naturally have those, Jungkook. Stop insulting me.”

“Accidentally insulting you,” he corrected.

“Okay. Well, stop accidentally insulting me, Jungkook.”

He gave up with a sigh. “Okay, I’m gonna ask you something but you’re only allowed to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my questions, okay?”

“What’s this f—”

“You like ice cream?”

You gave in. “Yes.”

“You like winter?”

“Yes.”

“You want to learn piano?”

“Yes.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yes—” you gasped loudly. “Okay, that’s just unfair! My brain was trained to say ‘yes’ as an answer to every question. It was instinct.”

While you were busy trying to lecture him, all he had as a reply to you was a smirk as he shook his head in dismissal. It was to say that enough, I already won. And maybe, it was right for him to win this. It was true you were tired anyway. Only, you found it hard to admit it to yourself until he made you so.

“I’m hungry.” You looked up to him. “Weren’t you craving for noodles? Let’s eat.”

Jungkook smiled at you, a damn perfect one. “C’mon,” he said, gesturing for you to grab his hand because you were about to cross the street.

“There are no cars, Jungkook,” you stated.

“Fine.” He retracted his hand.

At mid-passage, two trucks were on their way to cross paths with you and Jungkook, and Jungkook wasn’t planning to stop walking and it was scaring you.

You didn’t know how to cross streets when there were no street lights tucked on the bends of the roads to guide you. You always found trouble finding purchase as to when to cross, so you always had to wait for every upcoming vehicle to pass before you moved your limbs frontward.

So you clutched Jungkook’s hand.

“See, I told you,” he succinctly said, not looking at you.

He held onto yours tightly.

There was no assurance as to whose heart was beating fast at that moment.

Even then, it was quiet.

“What if you don’t get to the university I’ll be in?” Jungkook asked casually.

“You don’t believe I can?” you teased, trying to sound offended.

He paused. “No—it’s not that! Of course, I do! It’s j—”

That was your queue to laugh and you did.

“Asshole,” was his sheer comment.

“If I don’t get in, it’s no big deal. There’s always a plan B, even a C, to G,” you explained. “I have lots of backups, you know.”

“Where’s the plan B university?”

“The one near yours,” you muttered as you grazed your chopsticks on the floor of the hot paper bowl caged in your palm, trying to clasp short bits of noodles. “It’s just as good but it doesn’t have the program I want.”

He nodded at that. “Do your best.”

You lifted your head to look at him but he wasn’t looking at you. So instead of coming up with a serious response to that, you decided to go on a different direction. “Aww,” you cooed, “can’t go through college without me now, Kook?”

“You wish.”

“Rude.”

“I, um, what do you think about sharing a dorm?” he asked, and when you failed to respond quickly, “my mom wants us to,” he added.

“Ahh.” It was clearer for you now. “That won’t be fair to me because then, I’ll have to clean up your mess. You’d make a terrible roommate, Jungkook.”

“Hey!” He put down the water bottle he had been holding. “I’m not that bad.”

“You’d think,” you provoked more.

Jungkook only huffed, doing his best not to be annoyed while he waited for you to finish your meal. He had been over his for about 20 minutes now. You were a slow eater and Jungkook always took note of that which was why every time he finished his meals, he would always find you something to drink afterwards. So he wouldn’t just be waiting there, watching you eat.

“Thanks for this,” you said as you opened the lid of your drink.

“That’d be two dollars.”

You glared at him. “No way. Let’s just head home. It’s getting late.”

“Right. Like an hour before midnight wasn’t late enough.”

“Okay, genius. It’s getting late late.”

“That makes it better,” he mocked.

Instead of replying, you got up abruptly, carrying the weight of your backpack on the span of your back. Jungkook arranged the disposable materials you both ate on and threw them to the mouth of the nearest garbage bin next to the counter.

And then you were outside the store.

“What are you doing?” you asked, looking at Jungkook’s fingers twined with yours.

Jungkook swallowed. “There might be cars,” he explained shortly but slowly as he let go of your hand and tucked his own inside the warm, joined pockets of his hoodie.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach your rent-controlled apartment, especially when throughout the tread home, you two bickered over the littlest of things. And for a moment, it felt like you were brought back to being first-year highschoolers again, when you two had just met and eventually became friends after finding out that you shared the same path home.

“Tenth floor, right?” Jungkook asked as you both waited for the elevator to come down.

You nodded. “Why’d you have to ask, you practically live here.”

He entered the crane as soon as it arrived and you followed, stopping right by his side.

You look at him.

He looked at you and sighed. “Next time, after your prep class, call me. You really shouldn’t be out this dark,” and before your witty remark, “I’m serious.”

PRESENT-DAY AUTUMN…

You have no idea why you still have a small picture of Jungkook stuck into your wallet behind asymmetrically folded trivial receipts. If anything, you should have thrown it away as soon as college started. You must be hanging onto this false hope that maybe, somehow, at some point in the future, there’s still a chance things would go back.

That maybe there’s a reason he suddenly pushed you away.

“Where are you eating dinner? Wanna take-out?” Seulgi asks silently as you’re both in the library.

Her voice makes you close your wallet abruptly, and you hope she doesn’t think too much of it. Or else, she would tease you to no end.

“Ah, I’m going out with Jimin tonight,” you say with a wide smile, packing your items.

“Oh, to have a boyfriend who’d ditch training just to have dinner with me,” your roommate theatrically teases. “Say hi to him for me.”

“Sure.”

“Tell your boyfriend too that, that one time he sent food to our dorm, he can still do that,” Seulgi adds with little to no pause in between words. “Tell him not to be shy.”

“Okay. You,” you sigh, inserting your notebook into your bag, “need a boyfriend.”

“_____, I have classes from 7:30AM to 5PM, Mondays to Fridays, half-days on Saturdays. You can’t possibly think I’ve got time for that.” She ponders over the idea for a second, though. “You know what, maybe a fuck buddy will do.”

“Oh, yeah, no fucking way,” you quickly say, shaking your head. “You’ve gone through that already.”

“So protective,” she coos. “You’re for real the big sister I never had.”

You are a year older than her and you’ve shared your dorm with her for about two semesters now. On your freshman year, you didn’t have a roommate and it was so tough living alone to pay all the bills so you opened a slot before first semester officially ended. And there, she entered your life. You’re glad it was her.

“I’m going!” you scream-whisper. “Don’t sleep with an empty stomach, okay? I think there’s still some leftovers in the fridge. If anything—”

“Comes up, just call me,” she continues, mimicking your voice and tone – hardly. “Okay, okay. You sound like my mom now. Go and get laid.”

If there’s something you love most about Jimin, it would be his determination to make time with the people he loves, one of them being you luckily.

“You sure you don’t wanna take-out?” you ask for the nth time.

“I’m sure. Besides, I’m almost done.” He gives you a peck on the lips, his being the smoothest, softest pair even with the chilly season. “And babe, you can’t live off take-outs. It’s not healthy.”

“You’re the expert.” You shrug. “You sure you’re not tired?” you say, worried.

“I’m definitely sure.” He shakes his head. “If anything, all I feel is that I miss you.”

“Cheesy,” you say, smirking and narrowing your eyes.

You instantly wrap your hands around his waist as you lean your body on his back. Being shorter than him, it’s difficult to put your chin on his shoulder and watch him cook. Giving up, you set your cheek on the span of his back, feeling the vibrations as he hums. You sigh and he notices that.

“I think you’re the tired one here,” Jimin utters, concern laced in his tone. “I don’t think studying at dawn is healthy for you, babe.”

“It’s not healthy for anyone; you’re right,” you yield. “But I already had my body clock adjusted to this.”

“You have 9AM classes, _____.” He creases his forehead. “There’s no way you’re getting full eight hours of sleep. Stop with this already and listen to me this time.”

“Sorry.” You nod. “You’re right,” you repeat. “Just two more days for exams then I’ll go back to my uninterrupted sleeps. All my exams are done by Friday anyway.”

With that, you unfasten your hands to let go of him and walk towards the empty kitchen counter beside him, lift your body, and sit on it.

And just like that, leaning your side on the wall, you watch until he turns off the stove.

“Let’s eat,” he says.

And he catches you merely staring at him.

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks, turning to face you and ending up at a position where he stands between your legs. He slides his hands up and down on your bare thighs, getting close to your ass then back to your thighs.

You shake your head. “Just missed you,” you sigh, “a lot.”

“Missed you too,” he replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The kiss, shallow at first but with a hand crept up your nape, he pulls you in deeper. And the reply you could muster is a throaty moan as you lock your ankles around him. You play with his hair softly, much different from the kiss you share.

Softly, you sigh as he pulls away.

He lets go to place his lips on the crook of your neck, hot breath on sensitive skin but all you could do is throw your head backwards to give him more access.

“Hmm, smell so good,” Jimin mumbles, inhaling your scent, licking and kissing small spots on your neck.

His hands travel to your waist inside your (his) shirt with his thumb gently circling a skin of your stomach. One goes upwards to your ribs and just so, so close to your mound.

“Knew you weren’t wearing one when you hugged me,” he breathes out on the shell of your ear. “Such a good girl for me.”

He goes over the curve of your breast and catches your nipple between his fingers, making you whimper in small sounds as you arch your back. “So, so sensitive too.” He nips at your neck, just lightly grazing his teeth.

Jimin withdraws from sucking spots on your neck. While his hand is busy with your breast, his other cups your cheek, making you look at him with dilated eyes. He pushes your chin to open your mouth and he licks at your lips making you hitch a breath.

Before you could even do anything, he sucks at your bottom lip.

With the gesture, you couldn’t help but to fist his shirt in your hands, scared you would faint if continues to play with you like this. He chuckles at that before finally attaching his lips to yours, entering his tongue into your mouth. And you suckle his tongue, trying to level with the intensity he’s giving you.

He moans at that and he flicks your nipple to receive a moan from you.

“F-Fuck,” you mutter, and you already feel the immense wetness pooling on your panties.

His fingers dangerously dance along the ends of your pajama shorts. And when they enter the fabric, they only stay on your inner thigh, tapping lightly at your skin.

“Jimin, please…” you exhale. “J-Just—just do—do something.”

“You want my fingers?”

And he gets so fucking close, staying on your panties but he retrieves to palm your inner thigh instead. “Answer me, babe. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” Jimin says, looking into your eyes.

You hate how he’s able to maintain such demeanor when you’re already this fucked out over a kiss.

“C’mon, baby…”

“I-I want your fingers inside of me,” you say, shyly.

He nods at you as his fingers rub you over your panties and he could feel how wet you are. He rubs your clit over the fabric and you couldn’t help but fist his shirt even more.

“Inside me—please, please,” you beg with a tiny voice, spreading your legs apart.

“So impatient,” he comments and he finally enters a digit. “Fuck, you’re tight. Could barely move around here, baby.” He starts thrusting it into your core slowly in a torturous pace.

You clench at his words and even when you don’t speak, he knows you like it when he talks to you like this. Your small whimpers and short moans tell him enough. And there’s something about you and your submissiveness that he couldn’t get enough of.

“Can you take one more, princess?” he says, stilling his hand.

You don’t answer, squeezing your eyes shut. You sigh at the loss of movement so you hold onto his wrist and try to move him but he doesn’t budge. He only shakes his head.

“Take one more for me?” he repeats, thrusting his hand again slow but hard.

You nod quickly with eyes shut as you feel him add another finger and curl them inside you.

“Can you hear that?” Jimin whispers as he thrusts his hand fast. “Fuck. You’re so wet.”

The sounds of your juices squelching are the only thing you could hear along the fast beating of your heart in your chest and the quick high-pitched whimpers you exhale. But you are too embarrassed to even answer his question.

You grow even wetter by second and that makes you redder than ever.

“Answer me,” he says, slowing his pace.

You gulp. “Yesyes. I can hear it.” You bury your face on his shoulder, muffling your words as you’re not able to take it anymore. “Fuck—nnghh—!”

Jimin knows you’re so close to falling apart on his fingers—way too close. It might be the fastest he’s made you come undone on his fingers. You are clenching on his fingers too tightly and his blood is already rushing down to his cock.

His thumb presses on your folds until he finds your clit and rubs over it in circular motion. It has you breathing even faster. You couldn’t help but to bite his collarbone to ease the pleasure you’re feeling.

“O-Oh, my God!” you scream, although the sounds are muffled. “Jimin!”

Then he has your legs trembling.

Just a bit more. A little bit more.

“Come,” he sternly commands.

And with rapid moans, you do. Slowly, you let go of his shirt and lick a stripe of his neck and nibbling at some parts. He pulls his fingers and raises them to you. Without letting a second pass, you hold his wrist and you let your tongue clean his fingers, and his hairs raise at that.

You hear his small “fuck” as you taste yourself off him.

Just when you’re about to wrap his fingers with your mouth, his hands reach the back of your knees, pulling you closer to him. Your heat is placed just above his abdomen and he could feel you pulsing.

His face is incredibly close to you and none of you are doing anything about it. You let his hot breath fan your pinkish cheeks, and he lets you rub your hands on the span of his arms.

“Tired?” he asks, leaning his forehead onto yours.

“Just need a minute,” you answer.

Then a smirk forms on his lips. “We were supposed to be here to eat dinner.”

“Mhm” – you loll your head to the side and kiss the corner of his mouth – “I like you better.”

Jimin chuckles at that. “Stay over tonight?” he cautiously asks, testing the waters and afraid you’ll turn him down to do something else (e.g. studying).

You nod at his request. “Definitely,” and you add, “I’ll be troubled finding a reason to leave after—well, that.”

If there’s something you love most about Jimin, it would be his determination to make time with the people he loves, one of them being you luckily and his cock.

“Will you attend the game on Saturday?” Jimin asks slowly.

The contrast of his personality is adorable to you. Just an hour ago, he’s ready to take the life out of you with his fingers. But now, he’s warily asking you if you could make it to one of his games on a weekend.

You smile wickedly at him. “I’ll be there for sure!”

“Great,” he says excitedly. “Who are you supporting?”

Your eyes turn into slits at him. “You! Who else?”

“Well, you’re friends with lots from your team. You know, Namjoon, Seokjin, and well—uh, and they’re playing, too,” he explains.

“Yeah, well, I’m friends with Taehyung from your team, too,” you say, refuting his theory. “I miss Tae.”

“Really, now,” Jimin grunts. “He’s my friend and all but ever since the story you told me before, I just can’t help but picture it, then I get mad—no, frustrated. Just a little but still—”

“We fooled around once, Jimin. Nothing even happened,” you quickly defend. “Once. And we were on our last year of high school. That’s like three years ago! That’s before you even dared to ask me out. And I had to kiss you for you to ask me out.”

“Yeah, I-I know. I know,” he says. “I can’t help it.”

“Don’t picture it!” you tell him, laughing.

“This is not funny,” he complains. “Like, whenever I’m with Tae, it’s all good. It’s fine. When I’m with you, it’s all good too. But when you two happen to be in the same space, I can’t help it. Or whenever someone mentions it.”

“Just so you know though, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved,” you confess, solemnly.

You close the gap between the two of you to press your lips on his jaw, not that it’s far considering that you two are literally cuddling up on the couch with a playing movie that none of you pays attention to.

He looks down at you.

“I’ve had flings. You had yours too! And I’m probably not aware of it, but you’ve probably messed with some of my friends in high school—but you know, I don’t think about it,” you add, shaking your head.

Jimin only kisses your crown. “It’s hard for me because there’s a face. I know who Taehyung is, and he’s my friend. You have a feeling I’ve fooled around with some of your friends, but you don’t know who. That’s the difference.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Is it—that’s what you get from all that?”

“Well?” you raise a question. “There’s nothing else to get from that.”

“Okay—okay, you’re right,” he says, halting as he realizes.

“Hey, hey,” you say, making him lock eyes with you. “I love you.”

Jimin couldn’t help but smile at that. “Love you too,” before he cages your body and kiss you with the right amount of passion and intensity.

“I gotta say, jealousy is a good look on you,” you tease.

“Don’t make me deliberately jealous please.”

“Won’t ever do that,” you assure.

When the sun burned your thighs through Jimin’s bedroom curtains, he’s no longer beside you. But there’s a note he left on his nightstand that says he had to go out early because he ditched training last night for you. You smile at the simple gesture which turned grand by the breakfast he’s cooked for you. As though the leftovers from dinner last night aren’t enough.

Treating his home as yours, you do your morning routine with an incomplete skincare regimen and leave the apartment locked. You even have to double-check it, afraid that you accidentally abandon it open.

Getting back in track with your usual mornings, you head to the coffee shop you always stop by for of course, coffee. The shop owner’s daughter, Joohyun, whom you’ve known and been friends with since high school (who currently attends classes at Jimin’s university), serves you your usual – precise teaspoons of sugar, precise part of milk, and precise hotness of beverage.

“Jungkook was here,” Joohyun starts.

Instead of standing behind the counter, she shares a table with you while munching on some peanuts.

“And I should know this, why?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her.

“We had a small talk, the typical ‘how are you’ all that, then he mentioned you is why,” she points out with a smirk. She chomps her snack.

That makes you stop a little but you don’t show it – hopefully. To hide your surprise, you take a small sip of your drink, not bothering to play with the temperature as you trust Joohyun and her ability to warm up a drink just right.

“What—what did he say?” you say, needing to pause in between as you swallow the remnants of your coffee’s bitterness soaking on the buds of your tongue.

“That you mentioned this place to him,” Joohyun states, smiling now. “Since when did you two start talking again, huh? It’s like we opened a door to seven years ago, damn.”

“We talked yesterday for a while and that’s probably the only time we’ll talk until we graduate,” you dismiss.

Joohyun shrugs. “Whatever you say,” she utters, unconvinced.

“At least, sound like you believe me, Joohyun.”

She giggles instead, not bothering to rephrase her words. “Anyway, how are you and Jimin?”

“It’s been great!” you exclaim. “But you know, he’s a bit—uh, how do I say this?” You pause to find the right words, snapping your fingers, and Joohyun’s just waiting for you.

“I do not have all the time in the world, _____.”

“He’s a bit, um, insecure—no, that’s not right.”

“What do you mean ‘insecure’? Like, ‘doesn’t-feel-confident-with-himself-because-the-game-is-close’ insecure?”

You shake your head. “You know that part of the relationship where you talk about exes and stuff like that?”

“Ooh, that.” Joohyun nods, finally seeing where you’re going. “But you two have been together for two years now; I’m surprised you haven’t had this talk earlier.”

“No. No, we had, but it keeps resurfacing. Then we talked about the people we’ve been with, and you know I’ve fooled around with Taehyung right?”

Joohyun nods again.

“Well, he feels weird about it because they’re close and all. I don’t know.” You exhale a sigh. “And there’s more. I told him there’s probably a huge chance he’s fooled around with at least one of my friends.” You lift a finger.

Her eyes widen at that then she nods her head very slowly – again. “And… what did he say?”

“He said that’s what I think,” you utter and Joohyun only nods and nods at you, so you go ahead and continue. “But it’s not like it’s far-fetched, right? Our high schools weren’t that far from each other. He’s just so weirded-out by me and Tae, but it’s been so, so long. Why are you so quiet? Say something! Also! I wouldn’t be bothered if he tells me he had done it with my frie—oh, my God, you have?”

You almost shout your last words.

“What gave it away?” Joohyun whisper-shouts, covering her mouth. “Was it the nods?”

“Could you be a little more obvious?” you shout back. “You and Jimin? Oh, my God. And you never told me!”

“I didn’t think it was important! Why didn’t he tell you?” she defends.

“He probably doesn’t even know we’re friends, Joohyun!” you say quickly.

“Well, he should! And in my defense though, _____, I had the hardest time trying to find a way to tell you. I knew you were talking about some Jimin to me before but I didn’t know it was that Jimin.”

You wiggle on your seat, your mind making up the image of Joohyun and Jimin together intimately without your cue. And Jimin was right; it’s weird. You put your hands into fists, cringing at the idea.

“Oh, my God, are you mad at me?” Joohyun asks, not able to decipher your reactions.

“No?” you say, unsure, and then calmly and more certainly this time, “no. It was high school, before we were even together.”

“Jimin and I—we only did it onc—”

“Stopstopstop! Can we talk about something else?” you beg.

“Okay, okay. Yeah. Of course, sure,” she agrees frantically. “So, um—Jungkook! How did you two start talking again?”

You summarize everything into a simpler situation. “Shared the elevator ride.” Your shoulders slump back. “Can we not make it a bigger deal than it is—not!—it is not a big deal,” you correct midway. “I stand by what I said, you know, we’re never gonna talk again. I just know it.”

“And you know better because you’re a what? A fucking psychic?” she scoffs.

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying, _____,” Joohyun states. “I’m not saying that your relationship with him should have the same depth as the one you had with him in high school. Inseparable and just you know, so… young.”

You wait for her to continue, not being able to reply to that because you think she might be making a point. So far, she has.

“All I’m saying is that this is a burden you never lifted off your shoulders,” she says seriously as she shakes her head. “And things like that – they come full circle,” she rotates a finger in the air, “naturally.”

#f: circles over circles #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #by:lacielre

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