#bts angst reactions

[thebangtancloud]

hi! can i pretty please request a bts reaction to when they kick you out of the car during an argument but then when he goes looking for you after coming to his senses, you're nowhere to be found? make it really angsty please i'm in the mood for heartbreak; thank u so much, ily and have a great day ahead!

He can't find you after asking you to leave during an argument ~ BTS Reactions

Genre: Heavy Angst Warnings: Curse Words, Intense arguments, The reason for the argument in Jungkook's scenarios is quite ambiguous so you can choose any situation that you like.

A/n: Since you've asked for angst ;) also struggled to come up with a scenario for joonie who can't drive, like who'd ask the driver to get out of the car LMAO

Kim Namjoon:

The car had been parked at the side of the highway, your fingers trembling because of how firmly you were gripping the steering wheel.

"What is your problem, Namjoon?" you sighed in defeat. "You've been ignoring me for the past two hours. If you have a problem with me then just tell me. You didn't need to behave as though I was invisible to you in front of everyone. That was embarrassing."

Namjoon sat quietly in the passenger seat, bouncing his leg and looking out of the window at the passing cars.

"Just tell me what's the problem," you pleaded desperately. "Namjoon, talk to me-"

He moved away from you when you reached for his hand, staring back at you through the darkness of the car.

"You," he stated simply. "You're the problem."

"What?" you whispered in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I can't believe you, (Y/n). You-" he clicked his tongue. "You're saying that you were embarrassed? You embarrassed me, (Y/n). How could you have spoken that way to my parents?"

You turned to look away, pained at the words that were falling from his mouth.

"That was so unlike you? You're never this way, and it really surprised me to see the way you were talking with them. Not in a good way, by the way."

You nodded meekly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it."

"There's a reason why I've not been speaking to you, (Y/n). It angered me so much because my mum was clearly upset. I didn't want to talk about this until I was calm because I know you'd get upset. I just wanted to be by myself, I'm surprised you didn't get the hint already."

At least the darkness surrounding the two of you hid your tears away from Namjoon.

"Okay, alright. We won't be home for another forty minutes, do you think you could handle being with me until then?"

He sighed deeply, turning to look away from you.

"Could you like, give me some time?"

You breathed out shakily, understanding what he was meaning to say.

"Okay."

Without another word, you opened the door and stepped out, leaving the keys and everything that you had with you back in the car. You understood that Namjoon needed to be alone for a while, and truth be told, you couldn't stand staying in the car anymore.

So with the first breath of fresh air that you took in, you let the tears fall, keeping your head low as you closed the door and walked to the other side of the road next to the bridge.

~

Ten minutes later, Namjoon got off of the phone with his mum. Although she was upset, she explained that after speaking with Namjoon's father who had noticed you being incredibly nervous to be meeting them for the first time, she realized that you speaking casually and oversharing was just because you were afraid.

After giving it some thought, Namjoon understood that it was only natural. He'd seen the way you couldn't sleep the night before because you'd been too scared to meet his parents, and instead of comforting you, he misunderstood your intentions and decided to take his anger out on you.

Maybe he just wanted everything to go smoothly. But at least now he could tell you that his mother didn't take it to heart. So, slipping his phone into his pocket, he opened the door of the car to call for you.

Frowning in confusion, Namjoon looked around for a few seconds in search of you, but he couldn't spot you anywhere. He walked towards the bridge so that he could have a better view, turning his head frantically in almost every direction, hoping that he'd catch sight of you.

"(Y/n)?!"

He immediately reached for his phone to call you, but you didn't answer his phone. He gulped anxiously, suddenly realizing that it was too late for you to be out alone. He walked back to your side of the car to take the keys out and lock the door when he noticed your phone on your seat.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, grabbing both your phone and the keys before slamming the door shut, turning first to the left and then to the right side of the highway. Which way should he take? You couldn't have gone too far, but he could lose you if he took the wrong way.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," he mumbled to himself, deciding to go left because it was in the opposite direction of the car. You could've walked that way so that Namjoon wouldn't notice you. He touched his forehead with fingers that were trembling, his eyes glossing over with tears of fear.

"I'm so sorry, please be safe."

Kim Seokjin:

"I don't understand why you're getting so worked up about this? Like - it's my kitchen too! I can cook what I want and when I want to? Why did you have to go and tell Yoongi to 'drive some sense' into me? What is actually wrong with you?"

"I can't believe you right now," you groaned in frustration.

"I have absolutely no problem with you cooking, Jin! The problem is that you cook like we're cooking for an entire army and then the food goes to waste! You keep saying you're cooking for the boys and then you leave the food back - which you don't even put in the fridge by the way - and then by the time we're both back home from work, the food is spoilt and stinking!"

"Why are you so bothered about it?" He yelled, raising a hand in question.

"Because I pay for the groceries, Jin!"

"Then get your hands off of it! For God's sake," Jin banged his hand on the steering wheel, "I didn't think I'd get married to a mother who never stops nagging! Sometimes I just wish you would shut up!"

"You know what? I will. I thought you'd be mature enough and at least listen to me!"

"(Y/n)," he sighed, clearing his throat and holding a hand up. "Don't give me that shit. I've been listening to you for the past few years. I'm tired of it now, okay? Just... stop. Please, give me a break."

"We're supposed to work through this, Jin."

"Well, I don't want to, okay?" He snapped, turning briefly to glare at you.

"Stop nagging me like a mother!"

"Then stop behaving like a stubborn brat!" You screamed back at him.

Jin's jaw clenched in fury, driving in absolute silence for a few seconds before he reached for the indicator. He stopped the car at the side of the road, unlocking your side of the door and pointing towards it.

"Get out."

"Why should I?"

"Get out of my car, (Y/n). If you think you're so great and mighty, find your own way back home. I can't stand being with you."

"How could you be so insensitive?" You asked him in disbelief, the sun that was streaming in through the window beginning to burn the skin of your arm.

"We're almost home! Just drive back without a fuss, will you?"

"No, I won't. I don't want to be with you right now. Please, just get out."

"Jin," you gasped. "Why are you doing this?"

"Just get out already before I say something that I regret!" He exploded, leaving you dumbfounded. A sudden wave of anger overcame you, opening the door in fury and stepping out.

"Screw you, Jin!"

Slamming the door as hard as you could, you began to walk away from the car, huffing in exasperation and holding a hand over your face to shield yourself from the scorching heat. The roar of the engine behind made you scoff, turning back to see Jin taking off without a second thought.

~

The screech of the tires over the ground of the basement made Jin wince, aggravating the dull headache that he'd been experiencing due to the heat. After parking the car, Jin reached over to take his sunglasses and wallet from the glove compartment, when he noticed a small carton of an ORS in the corner along with a sweet that you had kept in there.

A sudden wave of concern washed over Jin, realizing that you hadn't eaten lunch because of the fight that had taken place and you'd even left the drink and the chocolate back that you'd normally carry with you on a sunny day in case you felt dizzy.

Jin played with his lip, deep in thought. He reached home in 7 minutes, and the walk back home was around twenty minutes from where he'd left you. Without any hesitation, Jin turned the car back on, driving out of the basement of the apartment complex in search of you.

It frustrated him even more that you weren't answering his calls, hoping that you'd decline his call in anger so that he'd at least know that you're okay and were conscious enough to respond that way. But it kept ringing until he reached the automated voice message that said that you were busy.

After driving around for fifteen minutes, Jin gave up and got out of his car to go looking for you on foot, with the ORS and the chocolate in his hand in case he'd find you sitting down in some place due to weakness.

"Shit, (Y/n)," he whispered dreadfully to himself, not knowing how to find you, overcome with worry and regret. Wiping away the sweat on his forehead, he bent forward and gripped his knees, trying to catch his breath.

He hoped you'd be fine. Even if you would be mad at him for the way he spoke to you, he just hoped you'd be safe and alright until he finds you.

"I'm such an idiot."

Min Yoongi:

Yoongi had been sitting alone in his car for the past twenty minutes, silently cursing himself for behaving so horribly with you. His hair was a mess from the number of times he'd pulled at it in frustration, alternating between resting his head on the steering wheel and cringing at himself and then throwing his head back against the seat to yell out in frustration.

"I'm so glad no paparazzi saw us! I don't want to be seen with you! And even if they did, who would ever think I'll date someone like you?"

To top it off, when you had suggested giving him his space, he agreed and asked you to get out of his car. You did, of course. But you didn't leave. He watched you walk away from the car and sit on the pavement of the road, waiting for him to blow off his steam. But he had to - he just had to - drive off, leaving you stranded and alone.

He regretted it not even a minute after he started driving, but his anger didn't let him turn back. So he continued driving until the words that he had spat at your face finally made sense to him.

How could he have said that to you?

Yoongi really hated that quality about himself. He knew people's weaknesses and he also knew when and exactly how to use it against them when he was blinded by anger. But never had he regretted doing what he did more than he did now, sitting alone in his car after driving around the entire evening with no sign of you.

You'd turned your phone off, and he couldn't find you in any of the places that you usually go to. He called the boys and asked them if you'd gone there, but they all said no. He had even made a trip back home in case you chose to go there, but you didn't.

So, with tears in his eyes, he decided to send you a message, knowing that even when you'd turn your phone back on, you wouldn't answer his call. But he needed you to know what he had to say.

(9:46 PM) Yoongi: Darling, I'm so sorry. I've been looking for you everywhere, but I can't find you. Please, at least tell me you're alright. I don't even mind the 'seen' under this message, as long as I know you're safe and you're reading this.

(9:50 PM) Yoongi: I didn't mean what I said, I was just...so angry. I know it's a horrible excuse, but I swear, I was only angry.

(9:51 PM) Yoongi: What you told me this afternoon surprised me so much. Never did I ever expect you to have a history with Namjoon, and the fact that I didn't know about this hurt me even more. It made me insecure, I guess. I don't know. But I really could only think about why you didn't tell me this as soon as we started dating.

(9:55 PM) Yoongi: Please, believe me, I didn't mean a single word that I said. I even hate myself for telling you to get out of the car. That was so low of me. I understand if you're hurt and you want to be away from me, but all I ask of you is to just tell me that you're okay. Please.

(10:01 PM) Yoongi: I want you to know that I love you.

(10:05 PM) Yoongi: Please, come back to me

Yoongi looked up at the night sky, feeling weak and anxious. He regretted speaking the way that he did with you. He wished he could turn back time and simply apologize to you as soon as he had spoken them, even if you would've given him the silent treatment or cursed at him or told him off, at least he'd be relieved that you were safe and in front of him.

Now he had no idea where to go. He needed to get to you, yet he didn't know how.

"I'm so sorry, darling."

Jung Hoseok:

"I don't know, hyung!" Hoseok yelled out, frantic eyes looking around in panic. "She's not here!"

"Just calm down, she couldn't have gone far. Where did you leave her?" Seokjin tried to calm Hoseok down but he too was worried, although he tried not to show it.

Both Jin and Jimin tried to calm Hoseok down a few hours ago when the two of you were fighting over something as small as who'd cook the dinner that night, but it escalated within a matter of seconds and both the boys were flabbergasted when Hoseok started telling you things he shouldn't have.

It was only natural that Hoseok would feel anxious the way he was now, especially after telling Jin over the phone that he had kicked you out of the car on the way back home because you both had gotten into another fight, and now he couldn't find you.

"I stopped near this pharmacy, I thought she'd at least be safe and could catch a cab if she decided to go somewhere, but she's not here and the guy in the store said she walked to the opposite side of the street after buying a bottle of water from here."

"You little shit," Jin cursed Hoseok under his breath. "You could think of her safety but not about her feelings?"

"I do care about her," Hoseok defended himself with a deep frown. "I don't want her to get lost or hurt."

"What about the way you hurt her, Hoba?" Jin questioned him. "What about that?"

Hoseok sighed shakily, his gaze dropping to the floor. "It's all my fault."

"Damn right."

"I need to find her, hyung," Hoseok whispered into the phone. "It's getting late, I don't want her to be alone."

"What's on the opposite side of the street?" Jin asked.

"Uh..." Hoseok squinted, not being able to read the words on the store.

"Shit, I don't have my glasses."

"Hoba, just take a breath, okay? If you're not in the right state of mind, you'll not be able to find her. Just take a breath and think of where she could go."

"What if something's happened? She tried calling me after I left but I declined the call. What if she needed me?"

Jin fell silent on the other end of the phone. He looked over at Jimin helplessly who'd been listening to the conversation with a frown on his face. Jimin shrugged, not really knowing what to do.

"Wait there for a while and keep trying to call her. Jimin and I are coming, we'll look for her together."

Hoseok nodded wearily.

"Okay, hyung."

Sitting on his haunches, Hoseok gently wiped at the sweat that was forming over his upper lip, sighing sorrowfully and shaking his head in regret.

"You're talking as if I don't do anything in the house, (Y/n)! I pay the bills and I get you things that you like in the house - that are not cheap by the way! I wash the dishes after you cook dinner and make the kitchen into a literal war zone. And now you're telling me that I sit and do nothing?"

"That's because-"

"No. No, you're wrong. I work much harder than you, my job is physically demanding and you don't seem to even bother about how tired I get! You don't even work as much as I do so the least you could do is cook us a meal without making it into a big deal! Why are you being so ungrateful?"

Hoseok groaned, tugging forcefully at his hair and letting out a tiny yell into the distance. Would he ever be able to make it up to you? He wasn't too sure, but finding you was what he needed to do first.

Park Jimin:

"You're not getting it, (Y/n)," Jimin shook his head adamantly. "I can't do that and you know it."

"You've been missing so many events and you get away with the excuse of your work, Jimin. Can't you just make it this time? I'm not even asking you for my sake, it's for your own daughter's annual day at school, Jimin. She'd feel so proud to see you in the audience."

"Look, I get what you're saying..." Jimin pursed his lips in concentration when he had to take a turn onto the highway. Looking around distractedly, Jimin scratched his eyebrow before looking at you.

"Uh... what was I saying?"

"You're not even serious about this," you rolled your eyes.

"My train of thought broke, (Y/n)," Jimin sighed. "You can't blame me for trying not to get us into an accident."

"I never said that at all."

"You didn't need to."

"Jimin, I- ugh," you groaned out loud, slapping your thighs in frustration. "You always do this! You always tell me you can't make it and I'm left to play the bad cop and break the news to our daughter that her father can't make it to someplace she wants him to be at the most!"

"You don't even understand this, do you?" He turned to look at you.

"Do you even understand that I am a part of a band? That if I don't be present during a show, how big of a deal it would be? It's not just me but my managers and staff - including the members - would have to make up an excuse for my absence. It's not just a few kid's parents who would wonder where my child's father is, it will be the whole world questioning me, (Y/n)."

"Right," you nodded, turning to look outside the window. "As if being present in your daughter's life is not big enough of a reason."

"I am present," his voice rose slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

"So you really haven't been listening to what I've been trying to say."

"Can you stop telling me I've not been listening? I am, but I'm not getting your point because it makes no sense!"

"Arguing with you is pointless, Jimin."

"Then why do you even start speaking?"

"Because, Jimin!" You threw your hands up into the air, looking across at him incredulously.

"How are you not even understanding what I'm trying to say? I just want you to come for your own daughter's annual day and not some random stranger and you can't even do that! Why should I always be the one to tell her that you can't come? Why do I always have to hear her tell me how much she hates me because she's upset you're not there?!"

"You're overreacting," Jimin scoffed. "Okay, fine, I'll tell her this time, alright? Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted?"

"For fuck's sake." You closed your eyes, shaking your head at how difficult Jimin was being.

"There's no need to curse, (Y/n). Stop behaving that way."

"I can't stand you, Jimin," you muttered under your breath.

Jimin looked at you for a moment, feeling hurt by your words. Nodding to himself, he stopped the car by the side of the road, pointing out and gesturing for you to step out of the car.

"Go ahead and get to your friend's place by yourself. If you can't stand me then there's no need for me to drive you there. Go."

"Jimin, what are-"

"Get going, (Y/n)."

You stared at him, feeling cornered under his burning gaze, nodding and deciding that you didn't have any more energy to argue with him. You took your bag and opened the door, slamming it shut and walking away without turning back.

~

"Thank you so much for this," Jimin whispered in a rush, placing his daughter who had fallen asleep on your friend's couch.

"No worries, should I come to help you look for (Y/n)?"

"No, no," he shook his head, sighing shakily and glancing down at his daughter. "Just stay with her until we come to get her back. Thank you once again."

"Anytime, Jimin. I hope you find her soon."

He nodded, walking out of the door. "Yeah, me too."

Jimin had given you a call as soon as he picked his daughter up from school, but you didn't answer, so he'd let it be thinking you were upset with him. But then your friend rang him up asking him why you hadn't reached her place yet, and that's when Jimin got worried.

He did leave you in the middle of the road, and he took it for granted that you'd be fine and safe as soon as he left. But now it had been five hours with no sign of you, while your phone was out of reach for the last two.

To say that Jimin was afraid would be an understatement. The look on his daughter's face when she had fallen asleep had made him feel incredibly emotional, and the fact that he didn't know where you were and if you were fine drove him crazy.

So with one last look at the window behind which his baby was sleeping, Jimin walked back to his car, wiping away the first tear that fell from his eyes.

"Please be safe, (Y/n). Wherever you are, I hope you're safe."

Kim Taehyung:

"How could you make this big of a decision without telling me, (Y/n)?" Taehyung yelled across at you who were equally frustrated.

"Taehyung, this is my life. If I decided to buy that house, then you shouldn't be questioning me. And I've been working hard every year and it's not like I've not told you I won't be buying up a place. This has been my plan all along."

Taehyung looked at you in disbelief. "Your life?"

"Yes, Taehyung."

"So I'm nothing to you?" He turned back to the road, his jaw clenching.

"Don't put words in my mouth. I never said that."

"It goes unsaid, (Y/n)!" He exclaimed, exasperated.

"This situation would only be normal if I was nothing to you! How could you even make such a huge decision without me knowing?"

"It's not like I'm moving right away," you replied, shaking your head at him. His eyes widened comically, raising a hand up in question.

"That's... not even the point? Whether you're moving in three hours or three months, the problem is that you bought a house without me knowing. And it's not even in the state, for heaven's sake! Did you not think about us when you bought the house?"

"It was a great deal, Taehyung," you sighed. "I wouldn't have found a flat at a cheaper rate if I had waited longer."

"So you're fine with us doing long distance? With the kind of work both you and I have? You'll move out of our place?" He inquired urgently.

"Why are you thinking so much? We have a lot of time to sort all of this out."

"I can't help but wonder, (Y/n)," his voice cracked, looking into your eyes with tears glistening in his own. "I don't want us to break up, and I can't help but feel like you don't feel the same anymore."

"That's not true," you disagreed, avoiding his eye. "But just like how you've made your life and lived your dreams, I want to do that too, Taehyung. I want to live...too."

"When did I ever stop you?" Taehyung asked you.

"What do you think you're doing right now?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

He fell silent, eyes trembling and looking straight at the road in front of him.

"You think I'm stopping you from living your dream?" He whispered dreadfully. "Is that why you didn't tell me about this?"

You looked away.

Taehyung breathed in sharply, feeling threatened and hurt. Pulling the car over at the side of the road, Taehyung got out of the car and walked to your side of the car. Opening the door, he wordlessly unbuckled your seatbelt and tugged at your hand until you were standing up.

"Go."

"Where?" You whispered.

"Go live your dreams. Do what you want. If I'm stopping you in any way, I'm not the right person for you. I'd rather be alone than be a person you can't even share this big achievement of your life with, (Y/n)."

"Taehyung..."

"No. I can't believe I've made you keep something this big away from me, only because you feel like I will stop you. You're free to go do what you need to do."

You caught his hand for a moment but he slipped it out of your grip with a shake of his head.

"Just...go."

~

"(Y/n)... I don't know where you've gone, but please, call me back, please. I'm sorry, okay? I won't stop you from doing anything, I promise. I just want to know where you are, and if you're safe. Let me see you once, please. Just...call me back. I love you."

Taehyung sat on the swing after looking for you for the past four hours, not knowing what went wrong. He thought you would've gone back to your parent's house, but you didn't. He called all of your friends and his but neither of them had seen you. Taehyung even went to the extent of walking to every shop that you usually buy things from, but everyone told Taehyung that you hadn't come by today.

To say Taehyung was not afraid would be a big lie. He feared that you had left the state to the house you had recently bought, and the fact that you weren't answering your phone made his heart race in regret. He couldn't bear to let you leave just like that. Not without seeing you, not without holding you and telling you just how much he loves you.

Wiping away his tears, his eyes kept running over the digits under your name on his phone, desperately hoping that you'd call him back. he just needed to know that you were alright.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)."

Jeon Jungkook:

"Jungkook, don't do that!" Namjoon gasped from the backseat of the car, reaching over to catch Jungkook's collar before he could get out of the car, but Jungkook was faster.

He sprinted across to the passenger side of the car, opening your door and pulling you out of the car.

"Just... go."

"Jungkook-" Namjoon got out of the car as well. "Just calm down for a second, will you?"

"I cannot stand her anymore, hyung!" Jungkook exploded. "I've had enough!"

"It's okay, Namjoon," you nodded assuringly in Namjoon's direction. "I understand."

"No," he shook his head, grabbing Jungkook by the arm who was fuming with anger.

"Get your act straight, boy. Right this instant!"

"Hyung, please don't ask me to stop. I cannot. I just cannot anymore!" He finished with a yell in your direction.

The cars in the distance were a mere blur, the three of you rendered silent with heavy puffs of breath escaping Jungkook's mouth. He continued to shoot you cold glares which you kept avoiding in guilt.

"You've crossed every fucking line this time, (Y/n)!" Jungkook screamed, reaching you in a single step and shoving an accusing finger in your face.

Namjoon walked closer to the two of you, squeezing his way in between you and Jungkook and holding a hand up against Jungkook's chest.

"Back off, Jungkook."

"She needs to back off," Jungkook's eyes never left yours. "She needs to back the fuck out of my life. I'm done with her."

"Jungkook!"

"It's alright, Namjoon," you simply pulled at his t-shirt. "I don't blame him"

"Get in the car, hyung," Jungkook seethed. "Please! Don't treat me like a child this time. Let me handle this."

"Not if you're not handling it properly."

"It's okay, Namjoon," you murmured, pushing him out of the way. He looked down at you desperately. "It's alright."

"You sure?"

"Mhm," you nodded, hoping to keep up your strong front until he went back in. "I'll be fine."

"Right," Jungkook scoffed lightly. Namjoon looked conflicted, but he touched your arm tenderly before nodding.

"I'm only a call away."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "I know."

And just like that, Jungkook had Namjoon in the car within a few seconds, the tires screeching over the road before the car took off, leaving you in a place you had no idea how to get out of.

~

"You're a fucking jerk," Namjoon cursed at Jungkook, who sat quietly after they'd parked the car outside of the company building. "She was being honest with you and that's how you treat her? Do you have any idea how difficult it must have been to open up to you?"

"Being honest at what cost, hyung? I'd rather have had her not tell me this at all!"

"Don't you think that she might've not been able to keep it from you any longer? That maybe she trusts you enough to let you in on something that has been draining her with guilt and instead of comforting her, you kicked her out of your fucking car!"

Jungkook bit his lip, knowing that Namjoon was right somewhere down the line. Maybe he did overreact, but in his defense, even Jungkook needed some time to accept the weight of your admission.

"Should we look for her?"

"It's about time you came to your senses, boy."

~

Three hours in and never in his wildest dreams did Namjoon think he'd have to handle a devastated boy who just wouldn't stop bawling on the pavement of the road. They'd been looking all over, but to much dismay, neither of them could find you.

Three hours was also enough for Jungkook to finally realize the depth of the words that he had so easily spat at your face in a moment of anger, and there was no other word that could describe the fear that he felt in those moments.

"Hyung," Jungkook sobbed, grabbing his own knees pitifully. "Get her back to me, please!"

Namjoon sighed wearily, running a hand across the skin of his forehead and wiping away his sweat.

"I don't know where she could've gone, Jungkook."

"Oh god, no!" He wept, shaking his head frantically. "I need to tell her that I didn't mean anything that I said!"

"She'll be fine. Just wait for a while, Jungkook. Maybe she needs some time to clear her head."

"Fuck," Jungkook cursed in regret. "I'm such a jerk."

"Control yourself, Jungkook," Namjoon winced when Jungkook slapped himself across the face. "Stop that!"

"I need to see her! I need to tell her that I'm sorry, hyung! Help me!"

With tears pricking his own eyes, Namjoon turned away and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"She'll come back when she's ready, Jungkook."

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[jungwnies]

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 | 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐮

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. what maknae line posts about you on social media / how they talk about you to the media !

𝐰𝐜. 212 ! 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. maknae line x gn!reader ! 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. none !

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. this was in my inbox for a request, i had completely forgotten i wrote a hyung line one.. which can be found here 𝐱 thank you guys for all the support as always, if you see a typo or any mistakes in my work please do not hesitate to comment or let me know, constructive criticism is always helpful!

지민 #. 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧 ! — always posts you on his story. he doesn't post a lot on his actual page so he has highlights with you in them. fans ship you guys a lot and completely adore the relationship to be quite honest, so he never fails to take a picture of the two of you here and there to post it on his story. whether their pictures of the two of you or just you, he doesn't mind showing you off to the world.

태형 #. 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 ! — he posts you on his story as well but he also posts faceless pictures of you on his instagram. he doesn't like showing your face on social media because he likes the mysteriousness of not showing your face. he doesn't keep the fact he has a partner secret, but he keeps your face secret.

정국 #. 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 ! — he doesn't like posting you on social media. sometimes he'll post a picture on his story if the two of you are on a romantic date, but he would much rather keep you to himself and protected because army's and be quite a handful sometimes. jurgkook loves you but he doesn't see the need to share that with the whole word especially since he's been in front of cameras for a majority of his life.

2022 © ilyeonjns

#kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts hyung line #bts x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts angst reactions #bts fluff reactions #rm angst reactions #namjoon angst reactions #namjoon fluff reactions #rm fluff reactions #jin angst reactions #seokjin angst reactions #jin fluff reactions #ilyeonjns #au

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook can’t sleep, and he can’t stop kissing you either.

> fluff, suggestive / word count: 2.6k

> content/warnings: alexa play seven by jungkook! mentions of s^x, lots and lots of cutie kisses :( they’re in that afterglow <3 oc’s chest is his pillow :(

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hi. here’s ur slice of pure self indulgent fluff 🍰 i just had to write abt this jk :P there’s a reference to in which you always get what you want and jungkook is dying to kiss you 🥹 reblogs & feedback are vv appreciated. i’d love to hear ur thoughts so feel free to scream or laugh or cry <3

—

a fleeting white light passes through your closed eyelids, nearly blinding, as you hear the familiar shutter of your boyfriend’s polaroid camera.

“jungkook,” you whimper weakly due to the sudden disturbance, burying your face on the soft pillows while pushing the camera away.

“shit, shit- sorry, baby-” he winces, guilty of disrupting your journey to slumber, as he scrambles to fix his mistake. “forgot to turn off the flash.”

he places the polaroid face down on the space behind him to give it the time to develop the photo he had taken. much to your relief, the bedroom falls silent once more except for the quiet humming and breathing of the airconditioner. you return to properly laying your head on the pillow, taking a small gasp of oxygen, and jungkook smiles because of how adorable you are for still refusing to open your eyes.

“can i take more pictures?”

“did you turn it off?” you whisper as you stretch your legs to find a more comfortable position, unwittingly pulling down the comforter and exposing your nakedness to the cool air. this gives rise to goosebumps on your skin, causing you to shiver, but your boyfriend is quick to your rescue. he catches the hem before it could slide past your skimpy shorts.

“i did.”

a chaste kiss is planted on your shoulder before it is returned underneath the warmth of soft layers of cotton and fabric.

you sigh, melting back into relaxation. “okay.”

he re-anchors his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his palm to admire the majestic view of you. jungkook likes this a lot, he lives for it— lying on the bed face-to-face with his sated lover, spending the rest of the night feeling like his heart is not a big enough vessel to hold all the love he has for you. the lights he is yet to turn off have splashed the dark room with a red glow that engulfs your figure as well, escalating his heartbeat, so hypnotic and tantalizing, he finds himself breathing heavier and heavier behind the viewfinder, or maybe he has stopped breathing at all. the shutter briefly fills the silence.

this is… the arch of your back is burned in his mind and he swears he still tastes you on his tongue, but seeing you like this feels so different.

he was consumed by his pleasure and yours just half an hour ago, admittedly almost blinded by his own sweat dripping from his forehead because he simply couldn’t stop wanting more of you, giving himself to you. you weren’t exactly innocent either, with your provocative touches and coquettish smiles, whispering lewd words that was gasoline to the lust flaring up inside of him. he revels in seeing that you’re just as desperate for it as he is, if not more, purely from the way you beseech him with your eyes mirroring stained glass windows. he knows you love it when he fucks you so good it brings you to tears, welcoming the delightful intensity of his nature, and that you were also trying to tire him out so he’d finally feel sleepy, but holy shit, looking at you right now, he wants nothing more but to hold you with utmost gentleness.

wildly concentrated with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, he brushes away the hair that fell on your face before capturing another exquisite memory to be burned into film.

jungkook is greedy when it comes to you.

a disgruntled whine slips from your mouth when the pillow underneath your head is replaced by his thick arm, which is then rudely cut off by his lips crashing on yours.

clearly, you’ve grown too comfortable in this relationship.

“i love you.” he drunkenly mutters, instantly going for another kiss and barely finishing his another- “i love you.” before he’s kissing you again.

“babe-” you chuckle then gasp, holding on to his wrist as his tattooed hand loosely wraps around your neck.

“i love you. i love you, i love y- i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you.” he repeats himself over and over, the volume of his voice gradually getting quieter as he runs out of breath, until his tongue becomes tied. grounded by the feeling of your steady pulse beneath his thumb, he silences himself by tenderly kissing you, soft lips molding with yours for a wordless declaration of devotion this time around.

pure static— there are no thoughts running in your head. your limbs feel numb but tingly. you feel like you’re floating- no, you’re falling. the bed has turned into an abyss and you’re falling endlessly and jungkook holding you close is the only thing that makes sense. you might have to consider this true heaven, nothingness with your everything, when the whole world is lights-out and quiet that it feels like time has been suspended, and the only way to keep track of it is through each pump of your heart.

at last, your eyelids slowly flutter open as he pulls away, and he greets you with that boyish grin. “pretty.”

his hand on your neck moves to stroke your face lovingly, eyes glimmering with various emotions as they wander your features.

“____ is so, so pretty.”

“hm, really?” you hum sleepily, leaning closer to his touch. “thanks to you.”

“me?” his doe eyes widen in confusion.

“you know, for the afterglow. i feel nice.” you giggle brightly at your own half-joke, positively out of your goddamn mind as you hide your warm face on his shoulder.

“ahhh- ah!”

enlightenment then dawns on your boyfriend.

his giggles blend in with yours for a harmony that strikes the same joy as the sound of wind chimes on a windy day.

jungkook tries not to appear too cocky about the compliment, but consequences be damned, he would die satisfying his lover.

“oh yeah, baby? do you now?” there’s a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face when you take a peek at him, which then morphs into a grin when your eyes meet. “i feel nice, too.”

“nice?” your voice comes out delicate, droopy eyes asking him for confirmation.

“nice.”

he feels a tug at his heartstrings.

“you know what? fucking great… i could never have enough of you.”

it becomes silent for a while. his tattooed hand slides under the comforter, letting his fingers skim across the side of your waist, feather-light touches on your bare skin before he’s pulling you closer to his body.

“i… i don’t doubt that feelings like this can only grow as time goes on but… it’s still amazing that when i think about it, even until now, all the time, i want to be with you.”

he involuntarily breathes out a shaky sigh, ears going red as they do when he’s expressing sincerity from the deepest parts of his soul.

“really, how do you do this…? what is this magic? why- why do i like you so much? i mean, i know why! of course! but, wow!” he squeezes his eyes shut to express his disbelief, clicking his head to the side. “it’s possible for it to be this much? do you get what i’m saying? i just have thoughts like that— love is so fascinating.”

you barely process his words with your brain still in a haze of bliss, but it’s funny, hearing these questions from the same man who has the entire world madly obsessed with him.

oh, this actually sounds familiar. he’s getting all sentimental and philosophical. again. and he’s not drunk. were you that good tonight?

“i won’t give away my secrets just like that. what if you use them on someone else?” you tease him, rubbing your tired eyes and shaking your head as you giggle.

you receive a dirty look from him, clearly offended and uninterested in the thought of putting in the hard effort to impress someone that isn’t you.

“aish, stop talking! i don’t like hearing you talk in that way.”

“then what else am i supposed to do? you’re the one who woke me up.” you retort in annoyance.

but you honestly don’t think there’s any secret to tell. jungkook is in love with you. plain and simple.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. go back to sleep if you want to.”

he dips down to plant gentle pecks on your shoulder, going down on a trail to your neck, and you unconsciously tilt your head to his convenience because he’s bringing the butterflies in your stomach back to life. it feels good, everything he does always feels good.

“you’re seriously not done?” you mumble against his lips, unfaltering with the kisses as if he would run out of them any minute now.

he stubbornly answers with a “no!” as his lips ghost over your cheek.

if only bam was here, jungkook would eventually leave you alone to rest. he would pester him with his late-night burst of affection instead while talking shit about you to your child because you dodged his kiss in your sleep.

“babe, you’re supposed to sleep. you have work later.”

“no, i don’t want to sleep. i… i want to kiss you- baby.” he protests as he continues to pepper your face with kisses, giving your body a particularly tight squeeze when he searches for your lips again.

you blink at him in confusion when he suddenly sends you a look of irritation, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring.

“you haven’t even said ‘i love you’ back yet.”

“oh, i haven’t?” you wince innocently. “sorry. i love you.”

but he should be the one apologizing to you, since it’s his fault that you still can’t think straight, or walk for that matter.

you pat around the mattress behind his back until you stumble upon the camera, and it’s jungkook’s turn to be your beloved muse. you scoot away until the lens manage to capture him down to his shirtless abdomen. you watch him in complete awe behind the viewfinder. he squints at you, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously, and he smirks when you chuckle in amusement.

“ah wait- take this! take this! you have to take a good one, got it? i worked so hard on them yesterday!” he eagerly voices out a special demand.

he shuffles to flex his arm infront of the camera, showing off his well-defined triceps and biceps while releasing rich, throaty grunts. totally unnecessary, but so achingly jungkook.

your boyfriend is outrageously, ridiculously sexy— he’s still wearing that stupid black headband he hastily put on in the middle of sex because he got pissed off at his hair and he needed it out of the way so he could ‘properly see his love’s beautiful body.’

you roll your eyes inside your head.

what a fucking tease.

nonetheless, you acquiesce.

the flash goes off.

and another polaroid is crafted into existence that you selfishly want to keep for your eyes only.

“baby, let me see.”

“it’s mine!” you scrunch your nose with a childlike charm, hiding the polaroid behind your back.

he chuckles, hopelessly endeared by you.

“yes, i’m yours.” he coos in response.

and your unguarded heart is once again swept away by the taste of his tongue. the camera becomes an abandoned item. your fingers daintily pushes off his headband in favor of freely tangling them with his silky hair, and it also ends up getting lost somewhere in the sheets as his sweet kisses lull you in a false sense of security… because out of nowhere, that same blazing light burns through your closed eyes for the second time tonight.

jungkook playfully waves the polaroid infront of your face, and his toothy grin is met by your unimpressed expression.

“this is mine!”

he has been waiting to jump into this type of opportunity, to orchestrate a romantic moment to be stolen in film— you can tell by the sparkles in his eyes. reminiscent of that one late night in a tiny photobooth where your younger and clueless selves were cramped in, this is what you and his hyungs often talk about, how much you share the same fondness for the fact that jungkook hasn’t changed at all.

“just how many pictures of you kissing me do you need?” you ask him lightheartedly.

he juts out his bottom lip sullenly, and a few beats pass before he forms an answer. “i always need more for when i miss you.”

you copy his frown. “then what about me when i’m missing you too?”

“hmmm… i want you to always remember me like this, baby.” he melodramatically declares as he picks up the one and only polaroid you’ve taken of him tonight. “can you see my abs too…? oh- it’s not showing yet.”

he looks back at you shyly with a laugh, and he places it back down to let it continue developing.

“i’ll look later. i can’t even keep my eyes open anymore. ‘m so tired.” you sadly sniffle to gain his pity, fluttering your damp eyelashes at him. “let’s go to sleep, please?”

jungkook doesn’t find it in himself to articulate a consolation or protest, not when you’re tugging him down to coax him into laying his head on your chest.

“heaven.” he moans, overcome by contentment.

he adjusts himself a bit to be more comfortable before dragging the comforter further upwards to provide warmth for the two of you, all the while refusing to remove his face nuzzled up against you.

“why are you always like this? can you even breathe?” you chuckle with your eyes closed.

“i love your boobs.” his honest reply comes out muffled, cute for some reason, along with his satisfied hums prompted by your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“i know.”

he turns his head to the side to look up at you, and he carries on to speak with his cheek squished against you. “i really, really mean it.”

“yes, baby. i believe you.”

a minute of silence passes. the ecstasy still flooding your veins becomes a stepping stone in the pond towards your dreamland, where all is either fantastically perfect or horrifically fucked up.

but then you feel sloppy kisses being deliberately scattered in the middle of your chest, leading down to your stomach, and you get rudely knocked over into the cold, clear waters.

yes, plea- oh no, no, no, no.

“jungkook, baby, stop. i can’t go another round.” you whine pathetically, being driven closer to the urge to burst into tears.

“AH! o-ow- ouch- baby, wha- i swear, i wasn’t even planning on it!” he loudly exclaims in surprise when you harshly pull him away by his hair.

“still…” your voice cracks. “you know i’ll get turned on!”

his chuckles are infuriatingly raspy and of no help at all, ego inflating upon hearing your response and the frustration obviously laced with it.

“okay, okay! i’m sorry! i’ll behave now!”

thank god.

he assumes his previous position, the place that he deems to be the warmest and the coziest. as he wraps his arms around your waist, your fist relaxes into an open palm that cradles the back of his head.

“____?” he mumbles, finally feeling the tiredness seep into his sore muscles now that he’s lying motionless.

“hmm?”

“let’s eat dinner outside after work.”

“…meat?”

“and beer!” he adds, brimming with excitement, and he salivates as he can almost taste them in his mouth already. they are his favorite, after all.

“i’ll come pick you up then.” you drop a kiss on his forehead, and he sighs happily. “but go to sleep or else i’ll kick you out of the bedroom again.”

his sweet embrace becomes an iron grip.

cold and alone, he swears those were some of the worst three hours of his life.

he squeaks in defeat. “goodnight, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

[kithtaehyung]

minted (m) (teaser) | myg

title: minted (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: okay so LISTEN!!! this is a complete surprise to everyone including me, bc this was def not on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this morally grey yoongi is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and having the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur relevant url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! note 2: this fic is not for everyone. please read the warnings! there's gonna be some darker themes than the regular kithtaehyung drop, and it's the haegeum universe so it's not a light fic. if you're down for that, lfgggg. if you're not, i will not be upset if you skip this one! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint-haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, knife held to the throat, tension, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, orange!jimin, fight scenes, morally grey yoongi smut warnings: to be smacked here on drop day! drop date: as soon as i’m done but we are ZOOMIN’ word count: 6k so far and projecting 12-15k✌️

"you know.. it's a shame you touched her. because now we have nothing to discuss."

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

#IM SO EXCITED YALL #happy belated hali!!! #ryenwrites #teasers #*latest #*ryenfictalk #minted #fic:minted #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 23 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mentions of drugs (nothing graphic), descriptive SMUT (pet names and a sprinkle of worship included, beware), fluff and too much flirting to be allowed, some angst, SLOW BURN

words: 19.8k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 23 ► in this open warfare, i won't fight fair, and in your waking moments, i will be there

The next morning, you and Jungkook took Minjun, Luna, and Maggie to a small restaurant—unreasonably far from your hotel in London—to have a late breakfast and to plot. The five of you were a lot more concerned with the latter, and the bacon and egg sandwiches on your plates were relegated to mere decoration.

You had already discussed your plan with Luna and Maggie over the phone last night, but you wanted to meet everyone in person to ensure you were all on the same page, and to inform Jungkook of his role (which was intentionally non-existent).

You believed that the fewer members of Rated Riot got tangled up in Sid’s slimy web, the lower the risk of collateral damage. Ideally, you would have left Jungkook out entirely. But his friendship with Sid made him a linchpin in the machinations of your scheme—he would be the most affected if something went awry.

“This plan relies heavily on the circumstances, I admit,” you said, while your friends feigned interest in their food to avoid the disapproving glances of the restaurant staff. “But maybe that will work to our advantage because we will hardly have to do anything. We will draw the authorities’ attention to Sid, and that’s it. He’ll do the rest himself.”

“Yeah,” Minjun added as your primary accomplice in this scheme. He was busy trying to stop his napkins from blowing away in the fierce wind on the restaurant’s terrace. “And that’s why we need Jude to let us into their hotel room—”

“Wait,” had become Jungkook’s new favourite word. He used it now, too. “And are we sure that Jude won’t change his mind?”

Maggie and Luna turned to you, mirroring Jungkook’s skepticism.

“We’re not,” you admitted. You were aware of the risk, but time has never been more of the essence, and Jude was your best option. “We’re not telling him too much and hoping for the best.”

“And to be honest,” Minjun added, “the fact that she gave him that laundry list of shit to do—”

“Wait,” Jungkook said again. “What list?”

You waved off his question, but Minjun answered on your behalf, clinging to this as if it was the only convincing evidence the five of you had against Jude changing his mind.

“Like, vitamins and stuff,” he explained. “To ease his withdrawals. I don’t know if he followed her instructions, but anyone could see how much it meant to him, just the fact that she cared enough. Maybe that’ll be what keeps him on our side, even though he’s back with Sid right now.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose in clear disapproval, although you knew she would have reacted the same way if she’d seen Jude—her heart was bigger than her head, bless her.

“He’s done nothing to deserve this from you,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, he—yeah,” Jungkook agreed, the confidence in his voice wavering as he alternated between gratitude for your concern about Jude, and guilt for putting you in this position. “You didn’t have to help him.”

“He’s really not doing well,” you said. “And don’t think I’m so kind, I acted largely out of my own self-interest. We need him for our plan.”

Jungkook recalled Jude’s sneezing, his shivers in forty-degree heat, and his nausea. All of his symptoms always came and went without warning, but the memory of someone going out of their way for him was likely to stay.

“Okay,” Jungkook acquiesced. “That’s—let’s keep going.”

“We won’t need to involve Jude every step of the way, though, right?” Luna clarified. “I mean, I assumed we’d mainly need him to get rid of whatever Sid has in his phone gallery.”

“Yeah, but not just—we’re not just deleting the videos with Jungkook,” you said, glancing at Minjun, who had supported you wholeheartedly when you mentioned this part of the plan to him. He nodded now, too, encouraging you to explain. “We’ll delete everything he has in his Cloud storage and factory reset his phone. I doubt Sid had enough sense to back up his files to an external drive, so this will clear every copy of everything he has on there.”

Maggie’s eyes finally lit up with lively excitement, Luna nodded in agreement, and you felt a smile forming on your own lips, too.

Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared almost disappointed.

“W-we don’t have to go through all of this just to delete those videos,” he said, fixing his gaze on his untouched cup of matcha latte; the artwork on the surface had begun to blur. “Those things happened. I did all of that shit, and Sid recorded it. That’s who I was back then, and maybe I shouldn’t try to—”

You interrupted his words—the ones you’d already heard before—with a gentle touch of your hand over his restless fingers, and Jungkook stilled, turning to you.

“No, those videos are not who you are. You are the one who decides who you are,” you reiterated once more and the table fell silent around you as if everyone had witnessed something they were not supposed to. “And if you want to leave those things in the past, you should be able to. Sid has no right to bring it up now.”

“But if we lock Sid up,” he persisted, “then maybe those videos won’t matter anyway.”

“He could publish them,” Minjun countered. “He sent them directly to you now, but he could post them publicly later. I’m sure he’d find a way to do that even behind bars.”

Jungkook felt a rush of dizziness and he was very grateful that you’d pressed your hand on his. Minjun was right. Sid had done something like this before when he’d posted your picture; he clearly wasn’t above making private matters public.

“We would leave the videos be, let Sid have them, whatever,” you continued, reading the colour on his face, “but he wants to use them against you. He’s cutting them up to paint you as an irresponsible asshole. And you’re not an asshole, Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “And I talked to Jude about an hour ago. He sounded sober, which is shocking to me, but, anyway—Sid has plans to go out tonight, so Jude should be able to do this tomorrow morning while Sid’s still passed out.”

The whole terrace of the restaurant seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as soon as he said that, the clink of cutlery and the muffled chatter around you growing tense.

Jungkook, even dizzier now, turned back to you once more. You gave him a small nod.

He took a breath and nodded back. “Okay. Alright. Fine. Let’s do it.”

“Good!” Maggie cheered from across the table. She turned to Jungkook, and you watched as her reassuring tone chased the last doubts from his eyes. “Even without those videos, we need to do this to get back at Sid. And I know this will do just that. I’d be tearing my hair out if someone cleansed my Cloud.”

You noticed that Maggie was much more vigilant with her phone today, hardly letting it out of her sight. She’d improved her security measures and had to enter her passcode every time she wanted to reply to a text today, because the facial recognition struggled to recognise the wind in her hair. This was the reason she hadn’t bothered with it before, but Sid had taught her a valuable lesson.

You gave your friend an agreeing nod and settled against the back of your chair.

Luna sat on your other side, leaning her elbows on the table, and she quickly noted the way Jungkook’s eyes widened when you pulled back, as if you had torn off a piece of his skin. She glanced at Maggie, who noticed nothing and kept checking the time on her phone as if she was late for another meeting to plan someone’s arrest.

Somewhat disappointed, Luna turned back to you, her grin doubling in size to compensate for her lack of company in teasing you.

“One big problem,” you said, focused on the intricacies of your plan and, therefore, unaware of your surroundings, “lies in our next steps. If we manage to get Sid arrested, he will likely weaponise his friendship with Jungkook. He’ll try to make it seem like they’re as close as brothers, and if he’s going to jail for meth possession, then Jungkook is probably doing drugs, too.”

You pulled your phone out from your bag and allowed for the weight of your words to settle on the table like a heavy grey tablecloth while you opened your gallery.

“So, this morning,” you continued, “Maggie and I put something together. This is a list of people who are banned from Rated Riot’s shows.”

You passed your phone to Luna first. She looked at the screen, nodded, and handed the phone to Maggie, who smiled to herself right away—she had designed the layout of the list and was very pleased with it.

By the time your phone reached Jungkook, he was already squirming in his chair. As he examined the list of names, displayed in bold white letters on a black background with a crumpled paper texture that Maggie had crafted and digitalised herself, he realised that the only name he recognised was Sid’s.

He looked up. “But if you post that—that’s—isn’t it supposed to be confidential?”

“I won’t post it,” you said. “We’ll leak it.”

“Oh.” A gleam of affection suddenly sparkled in his eyes. He felt a little like he’d just met you for the first time, all over again. “Can we do that?

Maggie reached across the table, snatching your phone from Jungkook’s hand to see the picture of the list again. She scrutinised the names for a minute as if trying to uncover the social security numbers of the people listed.

“No,” you replied. “But Sid never played fair, so we’re simply levelling the playing field. The other names on the list are made up anyway. They’re generic enough to match someone on Facebook, but no one will know which person is on this list.”

“But they’ll recognise Sid,” Maggie pointed out, squinting at your phone. “Even though he’s listed as Isidore here. Right?”

“That’s him, yeah,” you confirmed. “And you’re right. Everyone will recognise Sid. We’ll leak this before he gets arrested, and anything he says after that will just be taken as blatant slander.”

Jungkook took another deep breath and glanced at your phone, which Maggie slid towards you across the table. It bumped against the corner of your empty water glass.

“Won’t there be consequences if something else leaks?” he asked, his teeth grazing his bottom lip.

“Yeah, I was thinking that, too,” you admitted. “But then, Luna texted me a brilliant idea last night.”

You gestured towards your friend, and she continued.

“It’ll be accidental,” she explained. “Maggie usually posts backstage pictures on her Instagram. She has almost as many followers as the main account of your band at this point. So, later today, she will post a new set of pictures, and this list of names will just happen to be visible in some shots. Just a coincidence, really. And then we hope that one of your fans will notice it, zoom in, catch Sid’s name, and share it.”

Jungkook looked down, nodding to himself. He realised that Sid stood little chance against the collective resolve of everyone at this table.

“They will notice it,” he said. “I don’t doubt it.”

“We’ll have to rely on them to spread this,” you added. “Even though this list isn’t really something we need to hide. It’s just, you know, sort of customary in the industry to keep your dirty laundry to yourself.”

“Alright,” Jungkook said, sensing the weight of everyone’s gaze on him. He had the feeling that everyone was waiting for his final approval to move forward with this plan. “So, uh, Maggie won’t get into trouble for posting it?”

“Hmm?” Maggie looked up from her phone at the sound of her name. “Oh. No. I’m the photographer. As long as I get good shots, I never get in trouble. And this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a picture that reveals more than I intended.”

She gave you a sheepish look, and you shook your head, sensing where the guilt in her eyes stemmed from. Maggie knew that Sid was behind the chaos caused by the bathtub picture, but she still felt a gnawing sense of responsibility because she was the one who had taken the picture.

“Alright. You, uh—you guys really put a lot of thought into this,” Jungkook remarked, looking at you first, then at your friends, and finally at Minjun on his other side. “I’m, uh—I-I’m actually a little afraid of you.”

Luna and Minjun snickered—Maggie was back on her phone, but she was smiling, too—and their excitement made you feel much more optimistic.

“Good,” you said, reaching out to touch Jungkook’s hand again. He immediately turned his hand round and firmly clasped yours—to ensure you wouldn’t pull away this time. “Sid should be, too.”

A tense silence settled over the table, punctuated by the subdued conversations on the terrace.

For the first time since you arrived at the restaurant, Jungkook finally took a sip of his coffee. It tasted bitter and lukewarm. You refrained from touching yours, but accepted a bite of Luna’s tiramisu. Everyone else at the table seemed to remember simultaneously that they had ordered food when they got here.

“Uh,” Maggie spoke up after a second, still chewing on the brown crust of her bacon and egg tart. “Is this a safe space for us to voice our, uh, concerns?”

You straightened in your seat, bracing yourself before she’s even said anything. Jungkook sensed your growing anxiety and squeezed your hand.

“Of course,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Okay.” Maggie swallowed and set down her fork after taking exactly one and a half bites. “Well, I’m worried that Sid will say something provocative and one of us will end up getting arrested for assault.”

There was something absurdly comical in her question—or the potential outcome it suggested—and you could see Minjun quickly lower his head to conceal his broad smile.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was extremely pleased that no one turned to look at him, the person who had, more or less, already assaulted Sid before. It comforted him to know that everyone here would have loved to smack Sid upright in the head, too.

“That’s a great point,” you said, clearing your throat. “If he provokes you—well, then you might have a legitimate reason to, uh, land a good punch. You probably wouldn’t be held in custody too long for that. There’s no premeditation, you acted on impulse because of something he said.”

Minjun raised an eyebrow at you from across the table.

“I thought our focus was drug laws,” he said. “Did you research assault, too?”

“I researched assault laws the day I met Sid,” you deadpanned.

He snorted. “Yeah, fair enough.”

“Not to mention, we can always argue it’s self-defence,” Luna added, prodding her sandwich with a toothpick as if it were a not-quite-dead bug. “Sid is very—let’s say, aggressive.”

“That’s true,” Minjun agreed. “Especially when he’s irritated.”

The energy around the table had increased considerably; everyone seemed to have something to say about possible reasons to hit Sid. Maggie was already listing five ways to throw a punch that would knock out your opponent—she had a WikiHow article open and was illustrating it with enthusiastic demonstrations on Minjun.

You realised, quite suddenly, how happy you were to sit here with your friends. They were smart and cunning enough to rob a bank, escape a prison, and start a money laundering scheme all in a week, but they chose to be sweet and loving and a little vengeful instead. You felt almost giddy.

“He wouldn’t throw the first punch, though,” Jungkook interjected with a hint of frustrated sorrow. Maggie halted her research, retracting her fist from Minjun’s cheek. “He’ll just keep running his mouth until you strike him. And he’ll make sure the provocation is very minimal.”

“Well, sure, but who at this table will attest to any of that?” Luna questioned, undeterred. “Everyone who witnessed Sid throwing the first punch, raise your hands.”

All of you raised your hands in perfect synchronisation, and Jungkook felt himself smile again.

He had never doubted the success of your plan, even if he doubted the details. But sitting here now, while all of you held your hands up, he was fully convinced that this meeting marked the beginning of the end for Sid.

“Right. Okay,” he said. “I like how this is looking.”

“Me too,” Maggie said, locking her phone and slouching in her chair. “I feel better now. Didn’t want to spend the night at the police station.”

“You wouldn’t,” Luna assured her. “We’d bail you out.”

She snickered. “That’s good to—”

Jungkook suddenly jumped up in his chair, interrupting her.

“What about Sid’s bail?” he asked urgently. “Can he—could he pay for his release?”

Everyone at the table turned to you once more. When you and Minjun did your research yesterday, your focus had quickly turned from penalties to potential loopholes that Sid might use with his money, so you understood their sudden concern.

“No,” you said. “Apparently, it doesn’t work like that here. They would give him bail automatically; he wouldn’t have to pay. But they need to charge him with a specific offence first, and they won’t know the exact charges until they know what, uh, substances he was carrying on him and keeping in his hotel room—oh, and how much. Not to mention, bail may be denied if there is a risk that he’ll commit further crimes. And we know Sid is violent. He will not sit idly in his little cell.”

“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “We’re 95% sure he won’t be given bail.”

You nodded, grateful for his confidence.

“So, we definitely won’t be in London by the time they charge him,” Maggie concluded, frowning. She regretted not ordering whiskey instead of espresso; alcohol helped her think.

“Definitely not,” you confirmed. “Our plan concludes with Sid’s arrest, everything else is not our problem anymore. And we’re only participating in this as the staff of Rated Riot, so the only people who will have to speak to the police are those who will be present when they arrive at the venue tomorrow. So, ideally, only Luna, Mick, and me. That’s it. That’s as far as we’re getting involved.”

“Wait,” Jungkook said. He understood the need for Mick’s presence and felt comforted that you’d have someone from security with you, but now he was worried about your friend. “Why Luna?”

“We need an additional witness to observe Sid’s erratic behaviour,” Luna explained. “We thought it’d be better to have someone random, and not just your manager and head of security there.”

Jungkook kept his gaze on hers. “How do you know he’ll behave erratically?”

She gave him a look.

“Right.” He leaned back in his seat. “Good point. Okay.”

He already knew that the odds were good that Sid would try to provoke you tomorrow, but now he realised that even if Sid suddenly decided to be docile, it wouldn’t matter. The five of you were tight as a glove—Sid could sit in a corner, purring and meowing, and you would all collectively claim that he was threatening you.

Finally, Jungkook realised that he had narrowly escaped something dreadful, and he felt very grateful to find himself at this table, and not on the other side of this plan.

“I, uh—this isn’t a concern exactly,” you said after a minute. “But I have to say that a lot of this hinges on Sid trusting my word, and I’m—well, I’m not sure if he’ll care about anything I tell him.”

Minjun looked almost offended. He was the one who devised this strategy after you told him that you needed a way to quickly draw the attention of the authorities to Sid.

Why don’t you call him? Minjun had suggested. And invite him to meet you.

You had thought he’d decided to go insane right before talking to you. But you’d kept your suspicions to yourself because, ultimately, calling Sid seemed like the only option. It felt unfair, however, not to mention your doubts now.

“Actually, I agree,” Jungkook said, giving you a long look. “I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with any of that. You’ll have to be alone in a room with Sid. And we can’t be sure that he won’t—”

“Sid will care,” Minjun asserted, ignoring everything Jungkook had said. He kept his gaze on you, his certainty almost as intimidating as it was comforting. “Maybe not because he has feelings for you, but because you’re Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

Maggie looked up from her phone, surprised about the possibility of Sid having any feelings at all, and turned to Luna. The two of them finally exchanged the look that Luna had been waiting for.

“And you’re okay with doing this?” Jungkook asked you, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. He was careful not to miss any hint of dishonesty.

“I’m okay if this actually works,” you said. “If Sid shows up. If we get him arrested. I’m willing to try this if you’re all sure that we’ll succeed. And I wouldn’t be all by myself anyway.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that part,” Maggie said to Jungkook, rolling up her sleeves for emphasis. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be at the scene tomorrow, but she felt she had a personal debt to settle with Sid, so she would find a way to interfere if she had to. “I can fight.”

Jungkook looked at her in a way that was more amused than it was skeptical—Maggie was very small in size, but very big in energy—and she tried to flex her arms to prove her point.

“I believe you,” he said, a smile breaking through his uncertainty. “I just don’t like that this will all be happening during our show. I won’t be there with you.”

“That’s just the plan,” you said. “We need to keep you away from him so that anything he says later won’t carry any weight. He’s obsessed with you and he has problems, and you’ve been distancing yourself from him for some time now. We’ll release an official statement about your, uh, separation once we’re done with him. And the leaked blacklist will back up our claims.”

A resigned acceptance clouded Jungkook’s features: he understood that this was the right decision, but he couldn’t help feeling unhappy about it. However, although he would have typically complained and whined about this—and you expected him to—now his posture was stoic.

You felt a little dispirited. You knew you wouldn’t joke around much today, but Jungkook’s unusually serious demeanour emphasised the gravity of the situation even more.

“Okay,” Minjun said. “Any other concerns?”

You shifted your gaze to him.

“Actually, I have another one,” you said. “I’m also worried about how this will affect your parents.”

The two girls beside you exchanged another glance—you hadn’t explained Minjun’s family’s dependence on Sid’s mother yet.

“If Sid’s in prison?” Minjun asked, unperturbed. “Well, their stocks will probably drop, so it will be weird to throw a party. I think we’ll celebrate quietly.”

You glanced at Jungkook, and he met your eye with an amused grin.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked Minjun then.

“Are you kidding?” Minjun looked optimistic and upbeat. He seemed ready to take on the world, and locking up Sid was just the first step. “We should have done this years ago.”

Maggie suddenly slammed her palm on the table, forcing everyone’s coffee cups to rattle against the plates.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed, and her excitement quickly spread to the rest of the table.

“I agree,” Luna added, much quieter. “But maybe it’s time we headed out. The people at the next table are whispering and, uh, pointing at Jungkook.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and turned to you instead of looking around, his expression filled with a shocked wonder. He had only been recognised in public a handful of times since Rated Riot started out, and each instance had left an indelible mark on him.

You gave him a smile and a nod that spurred him out of his chair and towards the people at the neighbouring table, all of whom held their breaths when he stood up.

You glanced back at your friends—all smiling as they watched Jungkook introduce himself and singlehandedly cut off the air supply of four different people—and you thought about how wonderful it would have been if you had met Maggie and Luna earlier. If Jungkook and Minjun had stopped entertaining Sid’s whims sooner. If you and Jungkook had never broken up at all.

Perhaps, you thought, there was an alternative universe where you’d known and loved these people your whole life. You felt very close to that universe now.

Just as you finished your breakfast—where the five of you consumed one cup of coffee and half a slice of tiramisu in total—you executed the first step of your plan and sent a text message to Sid. It was innocuous, just a conversational, “are you ever going to stop doing this?” but it was meant to serve as a subtle precursor—so as not to approach him out of the blue tomorrow.

Then, as the five of you exited the restaurant, Maggie got enthralled by the most gracious little corgi sitting at a table, and dragged Luna and Minjun (who looked like he was not sure what was happening) back inside to ask for pictures. You and Jungkook opted for a scenic route back to the hotel instead.

Although the day was overcast, the sky did not look particularly ominous, offering instead an unexpected serenity that you thought you could use to clear your thoughts.

Interestingly, fresh air was not what you really needed at all. It was his hand holding yours as you strolled past extravagant hotels and expensive restaurants near Hyde Park, weaving through crowds of rushing tourists and cranky locals.

You felt significantly lighter with your hand in his, but Jungkook still appeared troubled. The shadows on his face were far more pronounced than those in the sky.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked.

He let out a weary sigh as he met your gaze. He seemed overwhelmed—as though his head was trying very hard to grow twice as large to contain all his thoughts, while the rest of his body fought desperately to resist the growth.

“I—well, I didn’t want to say this in front of everyone,” he started slowly, “but I’m worried about you.”

“Me?” You frowned. “Wh—because of Sid?”

“Because you’re doing all of this on top of your other responsibilities,” he said. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

Your expression visibly softened, but dark edges of guilt still coated the appreciation in your eyes. You felt disappointed in yourself—for letting it get so far that, over a week later, Jungkook still sometimes looked at you as though you might faint any second.

“That won’t happen,” you replied, your tone gentle, but determined. “I promise. And I’m not alone. I have so much help. And this won’t—it’s just a few days. We deal with it tomorrow, and it’s over.”

“Okay. But what if it’s not?” he questioned then. “We’re heading to Paris right after we, potentially, deal with Sid. And what if it doesn’t work, and we’re not here to fix it?”

You had to admit, this same possibility had been weighing on your mind ever since Jude first mentioned the bags of drugs in Sid’s hotel room. However, as soon as you saw Jungkook’s solemn features, you found yourself resisting all these worries. You would figure it out, no matter what happened, just so he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Then it won’t work.”

“He’ll be furious,” Jungkook said. “Even more vindictive than before.”

“I know,” you replied. “But no matter what he decides to do, we won’t back down, either.”

Jungkook frowned so deeply that several new wrinkles declared permanent residence between his brows. He dreaded the idea of spending a lifetime seeking revenge.

You sensed the reason for his apprehension—you wanted this over quickly, too—and instinctively squeezed his hand.

“I’m with you,” you said, reaching for your phone to check if Sid had reacted to your text. “And I told you, I’m not entirely convinced that this will work, either. I mean, here, look. Sid hasn’t replied. But if this plan falls through, we’ll come up with something else. Maybe something—well, less grand.”

He glanced at your phone, toying with his lip ring between his teeth. The prospect of failure felt more daunting with each second that Sid remained free to do whatever he pleased.

Jungkook didn’t want to do something else. He wanted this to work.

“Maybe he hasn’t replied because Jude deleted everything,” he suggested, searching for a plausible explanation that aligned with your plan. “Including the texts.”

“No, that’s tomorrow,” you reminded him. He groaned. “We need—Sid needs to notice my texts first. Then we delete them. I’ll use a disposable SIM card tomorrow, so there’s no trace that I ever contacted him.”

Jungkook felt like his head had already grown far too large for his body. He was a bit unsteady on his feet and clutched your hand tighter.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. That—yeah, no.” He lifted your intertwined hands to scratch something at his forehead. “My head is spinning. I can’t remember that much.”

You gave him a sympathetic nod. “That’s fine.”

“I’m not saying that I’d be too dumb to follow a plan like this,” he felt the need to insist.

“I didn’t think that.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued. “There’s a lot.”

You nodded in exaggerated agreement again. “Mhmm.”

His eagerness to prove his intelligence to you was very endearing. But it was a little funny, too, and Jungkook stopped walking to study your expression more closely. After a moment, he came to an appalling conclusion.

“You think I’m dumb,” he said.

A wide smile finally broke out on your face. “I think you’re very pretty.”

“Very pr—okay.” His expression shifted as you laughed, pulling on his hand to continue walking after an elderly couple gave you a rather well-deserved disapproving look for blocking their path. “Pretty and dumb. Is that your type?”

“It is,” you said, grinning. “That’s why you’re the only boyfriend I’ve had.”

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “Oh—wow. Wow. I am both very flattered and very offended.”

You chuckled, gently pushing his shoulder with yours. Jungkook shook his head and finally smiled, too. But right as he prepared to say something else, he ended up having to quickly yank your hand, pulling you into him and out of the way of an oncoming bicycle.

“Shit,” you were breathless against his chest as the bike drove past, your hair whipping forcefully in the wind, “thank you.”

“Pretty and dumb,” he said, allowing you to take a step away from him now that the danger has passed, “but with great reflexes, huh?”

You laughed again, leaning into him when you did and successfully dissolving everything sharp and uncomfortable in his chest.

“I know you’re not dumb,” you said. “And let’s be realistic: Minjun and I had been simmering in the details of this plan for days. You just barely learned about it a few hours ago. We’ve got this. I wanted you to know what we’ll do, but I don’t want you to be involved at all.”

“Yeah. I—no, I just…” he faltered, weighing his next words. The thought of everything that would happen tomorrow made his stomach feel very heavy. “I feel like you’re trying to protect me from Sid by keeping me out of this, and I’m—I don’t know how that makes me feel.”

“We’re not just keeping you out, we’re keeping the whole band out,” you said. “I want to protect all four of you. And if anything, you’re the only member who isn’t entirely excluded. Does that… make it any better?”

Jungkook considered this for a moment.

“Not sure,” he said. “Because I’m still not participating.”

Exhaling softly, you looked around, searching for a quiet spot on the pavement where the two of you could step away from the crowd. Nearby, there were two traditional phone booths that tourists were gathered around, obstructing your view. Once you passed them, you noticed a parking meter right by the park gate that everyone seemed to avoid. You decided to pause there.

Jungkook glanced around before stopping in front of you, slightly unsettled by the large, dark green hedge covering the park fence, and all the bugs that emerged from it—bees, mostly. They all seemed very curious about him.

“Okay, look at it this way,” you began. “Sid has known you and Minjun since you were kids. He knows all your weak points. He can predict exactly how you and Minjun will react in any situation. Sure, you took him off guard when you gave up your Katana, but he can still read you very well. He doesn’t have that luxury with me, Luna, or Maggie. He’s less certain about our reactions. Who else could do this if not us?”

“Right,” Jungkook murmured. “But you’re still going out of your way for me, and I feel—”

“And why wouldn’t I?” you interrupted. “I love you.”

He thought he died for just a second and it felt surprisingly nice: he could feel something soft and warm against his skin—the phantom shivers of every time you’ve touched him before—and he could taste a sweet, lingering flavour on his tongue—from every time he felt your mouth against his own.

He would never tire of hearing you say you loved him. The only downside was that his chest usually attempted to collapse in on itself right after that, leaving him speechless for anywhere from a minute to several days.

“Not to mention,” you continued while Jungkook fought against the haze in his mind and the bumblebees around his neck. “Sid has long stopped at just you. With the videos and pictures he’s sending you, he’s threatening everyone on this tour. Anything that affects your reputation, affects the band and the staff, too. So, when you look at it like that, we’re really doing this for everyone.”

Finally, Jungkook managed to stop his thoughts from pulling him in every direction and anchored himself to this pavement right here—with you, and the persistent bugs, and the chattering of people as they walked past you.

He squeezed your hand that he had not let go—not now, and probably not ever, really—and exhaled.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But I was the one who brought him here, and that’s—I guess that’s what’s bothering me right now.”

“You did bring him here,” you agreed.

“I—oh.” He looked up, his eyebrows knitting together. He had expected something else. An ‘I told you that was a shit decision’ or a sarcastic ‘yeah, and thanks for that’—but your kind expression did not change. “Y-yeah. I did.”

“But we’ll get him out,” you said.

Jungkook held your hand and observed you, trying to process this while simultaneously trying to figure out what was it about him that attracted these British bees to him so much. It couldn’t be his cologne, because you loved him far more than he’d allowed himself to believe. It couldn’t be his clothes, either, because you were looking at him like you believed anything was possible in this world, and he thought it really was.

He realised that to you, he must have appeared as if he were struggling to interpret prehistoric cave wall paintings, and this process was causing him immense pain. He cleared his throat.

“You don’t blame me?” he asked.

“For making a stupid decision?” you replied, and shrugged your shoulders after he nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He pressed his lips together, his expression a mixture of incredulity and pure delight.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

You were smiling again, and he was a little too proud to admit how much your loving eyes and your great mood soothed his anxiety.

“And what would I gain from punishing you?” you added. “You’ve already seen through Sid. You’ve had enough. You learned your lesson. You’re good.”

Jungkook felt his chest swell as though he’d swallowed the swarms of bees around him, and now they’ve built a cosy little home right on the hills of his heart.

“You think so?” he asked, his eyes glistening.

“Why do you look so excited?” you countered. “Do you have more dickhead friends I haven’t met yet?”

He chuckled, waving his hand around his face. “Can I answer that inside the park? I’m afraid these bees are in love with me.”

You had already noticed his struggle with the bees—it was hard not to, one was perched right on his shoulder—and you found your own apparent immunity to this new bee predicament especially entertaining.

“Want me to fight them for you?” you suggested.

“Oh, in a battle of who loves me more?” he quipped, swatting vigorously at three stubborn bees that were particularly intrigued in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll all sting you at the same time, and whoever dies first, wins.”

He snorted. “These are bumblebees. They don’t die after they sting.”

“Oh, so maybe we should just stay here,” you teased. “You all seem to know quite a bit about each other already.”

He squinted at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you jealous I’ve grown so close to these bees?”

“Of course. They’re all over you.”

“I’d rather have you all over—”

“Public park!” you interjected hastily, cutting him off.

His laughter in response was unapologetic and infectious—you found yourself shaking your head to suppress a treacherous smile.

“Did you also research public indecency laws?” he asked, turning past the menacing, bee-infested hedge.

You followed him through the gates into the park, your fingers intertwined with his. The clouds above had thickened, and the wind had picked up, but there was nothing about this afternoon that Jungkook did not enjoy.

“Actually, I did,” you replied. “Because of that stunt you pulled in New York last year.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes for just a fleeting moment before he pursed his lips, distancing himself from the memory. A gentle breeze swept through the park, rustling leaves and carrying the scent of damp earth; it would rain soon.

“I don’t remember,” he declared.

“Really?” you responded wryly. You both knew very well that he remembered. “Nothing familiar to you about the busking that turned into half-naked dancing in the middle of the street?”

“Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“There was a lot more grinding than actual dancing, now that I think about it,” you pressed on. You noticed, through your peripherals, the way he scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, evidently despising the memory he claimed he did not have. “Someone had drawn a crown of thorns on your forehead. You had a—sort of a cloth wrapped around your waist, and nothing else. Almost everyone on the face of the earth accused you of being in a sex cult after those pictures came out.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he insisted. “They must have confused me with someone else.”

“Sure. They must have,” you relented, pouting your lips in mock-sympathy. “There are plenty of people in sex cults out there.”

“Exactly,” he replied, finally meeting your eyes.

Something about you bringing up this incident—“incidents” were a prominent category of his actions in his mind—reminded him of the videos Sid had sent him. However, with you, the feelings in his chest were vastly different.

You were playful. Lighthearted. Your love language was teasing the hell out of him.

Sid was venomous. Arrogant. Vile. His intentions were humiliation and destruction.

You were joking about a matter for which Jungkook undoubtedly owed you another apology. He could tell that you knew he would apologise eventually, but you were hoping—with every jest, every tender smile, every affectionate bite you sent his way—that he would not plunge himself into self-loathing again.

He wouldn’t. He had matured significantly since the day under discussion. He knew he had, even if it was easy to forget.

“I’m surprised how well you remember all that, actually,” he commented. “Are you secretly into sexual rituals?”

Your scoff returned his smile to his face.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “I keep a picture of you from that day on my desk at home. I look at it every night before I fall asleep.”

Jungkook kicked a few dry, scattered leaves on the pavement. When he glanced back at you, his grin bordered on ridiculous.

“I am aware that you’re trying to mock me right now,” he said, “but I feel obligated to inform you that I’m taking absolutely everything you say as a compliment.”

You nodded sagely. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

“Good,” he replied. “Please tell me more about how you look at pictures of me before you fall asleep every night.”

You tsked reproachfully at his grin.

“I take back what I said about you being smart,” you said. “You are the biggest idiot I’ve met.”

“Oh,” his face was jubilant, “but that just means you love me that much more, right?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid so.”

He felt the swarms of bees in his chest, and they were buzzing incessantly—eager, restless, and yearning. They took every emotion he felt and spread them across his skin.

“I knew it,” he said, delighted by the look on your face. You were so captivating when you were trying to resist smiling; it was why he never stopped teasing you. “This must be awful for you.”

“Mmhm. It is,” you said. “You’re like a disease.”

He nodded, attempting a formal tone. “How bad is it?”

“Chronic and untreatable, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

A deep, vibrant laughter finally erupted from his chest, and he stopped walking. Tugging on your linked hands, he drew you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist before you could say another word.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low against your neck. “It’s not even funny how much.”

He rocked gently on his feet with you in his arms, and you could not tell if the vibrations you felt came from his chest or yours.

“More than the bees love you?” you asked, your hands sliding over his shoulders.

“Much more than the bees love me.”

“Oh, must be quite a lot, then.”

“It is,” he said, chuckling hopelessly. “It really fucking is.”

He tightened his already firm grip until he felt your deep exhale against the side of his neck. He held you and his heartbeat chased after yours while the bustling crowds, the rustling leaves, and the solemn park benches whispered incomprehensibly around you, their frustration about your public affection lost on you.

When he pulled away a minute—or ten—later, he realised that his cologne had brushed off on you. There was something wildly intoxicating about you smelling exactly like him, and he needed a minute to make the park stop spinning.

“I, um—” he started to say, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat, took your hand in his to continue down the park, and tried again. “Jokes aside, I feel—I really appreciate what you do for me. What you’re doing to fix my shit right now, and what you—what you’ve always done to fix my shit. I don’t say that enough. Thank you. For taking care of Sid, too.”

You shook your head. You knew you couldn’t tackle Sid alone—probably no one could.

“This is a team effort,” you replied. “If this works, you can bake us all a cake later.”

Jungkook no longer had even half of a doubt that this would work, one way or the other. And if he’d stayed with you longer, he would have easily started to believe that Rated Riot would be elected presidents, too—one after the other.

“I’m not much of a baker,” he said.

“I’ll help,” you offered.

“Your help,” he responded, his smile turning mischievous, “usually consists of walking around, eating chocolate sprinkles, and distracting me.”

It was your turn to look offended.

“I’m the only one who remembers how many eggs the recipe needs,” you retorted, dignified. “How do I distract you?”

“How can I remember the eggs when you’re dancing and singing around me?” he countered.

He noticed the way your chin quivered as you fought to maintain a serious expression.

“Well, that’s on you,” you said. “Any skilled chef knows to keep their staff busy so they wouldn’t have time to sing and dance. Also, don’t play good songs when we’re in the kitchen.”

“Alright, we’ll bake in silence,” he decided. “And you’ll do everything while I sit and order you around.”

The corners of your lips finally curled into a smirk.

“That’s interesting,” you said, your thumb lightly brushing over his as he swayed your hands. “Switching up the dynamics.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, very intrigued by the insinuation in your words. “You want me to order you around?”

“I mean…” You shrugged. “I’d like to see you try.”

He stopped walking suddenly, right in the midst of a group of senior ladies, forcing a few of them to gasp and walk around him with very exaggerated expressions of disbelief as though they’d never felt more wronged (there were a few obligatory comments about “kids these days,” too, of course).

Jungkook, undeterred, took a step to the right until he was standing in front of you.

“Kiss me,” he said.

The demand in his tone caught you off guard, but you tried to blink away your surprise. “I didn’t mean right now—”

“Kiss me,” he repeated more assertively.

You felt your stomach lighten and go for a little float inside you, like a loose helium-filled balloon.

“We are in the middle of a busy park,” you said, looking around. “We’re blocking—”

“Kiss me,” he interrupted again, his voice firm but lively, “or I won’t move.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, torn between amusement and apprehension as you battled his self-assured grin, while passersby shot disapproving glances at the two of you.

“See, there’s ordering people around,” you said, “and there’s acting like a three-year-old.”

He simply shrugged, relentless. “I see no difference.”

“Do I sound like a toddler when I tell you to do things?”

“Sometimes.”

His satisfied grin only gained prominence when you scoffed and looked away, rolling your eyes.

You questioned, sometimes, how you managed to put up with him for so long. But then you also questioned, much more often, how you’d survived without him at all.

“If I were a teacher,” you said, “you’d be in detention for disrupting everyone’s day.”

“Oh! And what would I have to do?” he teased, mischief gleaming proudly in his eyes. “Write an essay on the importance of respecting authority?”

“That might do you good, actually,” you retorted. “Maybe you should consider writing it anyway.”

He shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side. “Kiss me and I’ll do it.”

He looked so utterly unfazed that you did feel very compelled to lay your hands on him and do something.

He might have been one of the most exasperating people you’ve met in your life, always ready to say something cheeky no matter what you told him, always causing trouble wherever he went, never letting you breathe in peace for just one second.

You were outrageously grateful to have found him.

“People are staring at us,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. “We look like idiots.”

Jungkook admired your cautiousness, but he wanted you to let go of it. People would always stare; he just wanted you to kiss him.

“They’re staring because you’re defying authority,” he countered easily.

“Jungkook, just—”

“Oh, see?” he cut in, his tone triumphant. “Maybe you should be the one to write that essay.”

You groaned very demonstratively, but he saw the corners of your lips lift. Finally, you took a small step towards him and pressed your lips to his in a quick peck. He pulled you into him just as you attempted to pull away, and kissed you properly.

At last, the crowds disappeared, allowing you to dissolve in the warmth of his lips and come back to life with all the shivers that ran down your spine when he touched the back of your neck. You felt his smile and felt your own, too, when he brought his tongue over yours, deepening the kiss.

“You are insufferable,” you managed to mumble between kisses, and the affection in your voice was impossible to mistake for something else.

“I love you,” he whispered in response, each word sweet and sugary against your lips.

You kissed him once more—to soothe your racing heart—and then once more again—to soothe his—before you pulled away, whispering back, “I love you.”

Jungkook only managed half of a pleased “I—” before he felt a few soft, cold droplets land on his forehead and both of his cheeks. He raised his head.

“Is it me, or is it—”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, looking up at the angry clouds. “It’s raining.”

“Do you—should we go inside?” he asked, looking around.

There was no specific “inside” anywhere close to the two of you, but you looked at him again and spotted something at the very edge of the park behind him, right across a busy bike lane.

“There’s a little gazebo over there,” you suggested, pointing.

Jungkook turned around and seemed to have an epiphany when he noticed the crooked structure.

“In the—in the park,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a little weak in the knees. He took your hand in his again. “Let’s go.”

He led you straight into the bicycle traffic as he crossed the road, causing a commotion and undoubtedly endangering everyone’s lives—and not even realising it in his eagerness to get to the gazebo. You attempted to raise your hand in apology to the cyclists, but quickly realised that the smile on your face likely made the gesture seem mocking.

It occurred to you that you and Jungkook were being very disruptive today, very annoying, very much in everyone’s faces about your relationship. And you realised, as he pulled you past the groups of people running from the rain, that you did not actually mind this all that much. Or at all.

There was a certain beauty in the unapologetic way that people in love behaved in public—grinning at their phones, kissing at bus stops, holding hands on narrow streets barely wide enough for one person. Running across the park in the rain and stumbling into every puddle possible.

When you and Jungkook finally reached the gazebo, you were both drenched and breathless. And you realised, belatedly, that it was not a suitable shelter at all: there were no railings or benches, the roof was not only crooked, but obviously decaying, and the rain splattered you if you got too close to the edge.

But you’d been here before: caught in the rain on your way to the restaurant for your first date seven years ago, seeking refuge under a much sturdier roof of a similar gazebo in an empty park, while the vividly green trees—almost a rarity so late in September—whispered wearily from the heavy rain on their leaves.

You’d been here before, and you did not want to go anywhere else.

“I’m starting to think,” you began, “that there’s something about us that attracts rain.”

Jungkook was thinking this very thought and laughed so heartily that the rain stopped for just a second, shamed into silence by a sound far more charming than the eager pitter-patter against the roof.

“You think we could make some money out of it?” he joked, his eyes energetic. “Maybe add a little performance to it? Rain dance?”

“We might have accidentally performed one already,” you said, stepping closer to the edge of the gazebo to watch the raindrops splash against the damp ground.

“You’re right,” he agreed, taking your hand in his and guiding you to face him. “Let me see.”

He brought your hand to his chest and you watched, puzzled, as he closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate very hard on the sounds around him. People across the street screeched as they ran from the rain. A stubborn gull was screeching in the exact same way somewhere overhead.

Jungkook clutched your hand tighter and hummed. He was joking, clearly putting up a show, but you heard the faint sound of distant thunder, and the joy on his face turned luminous.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed as you laughed, and the rain, encouraged by your approval, began to pour even harder.

You watched him revel in this delightful coincidence—or an elusive sign—and allowed his radiant smile to bring back the memories that you had locked away in a box you didn’t dare touch unless you were half-asleep.

It had been raining on your first date seven years ago, but it had also been raining when he suggested that date. You’d felt invincible then, the only one staying dry in the whole world, as you nearly sprinted home from the party where he’d asked you out. You stumbled over the threshold of your dorm room, your shoes wet and slippery, and landed on your knees, shouting the news to your roommate, who was startled out of bed by your loud entrance.

This was the beginning of the happiness you’d felt almost every day since then. But this happiness came with a price: you would come to class and you could not rest, could not find it in yourself to calm down, until Jungkook arrived and took his usual seat behind you. You wouldn’t even have to look, you’d always know he had come because you’d feel a sudden sense of peace—and then you’d lock eyes with him across the room.

For years after this, even today, when you tried to find a period of your life where you’d felt the happiest, these were the moments that your mind returned to.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook asked, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek and bringing your focus back to the rainy moment with his touch.

“It—it’s been seven years and now we’re back in the rain,” you replied, distracted by the lingering echo of the years that have passed outside this gazebo. “Nothing’s changed.”

A faint smile danced on his lips.

“Yeah. Nothing important has,” he agreed. “I still love you.”

You met his gaze, a little thrown off. “W-what do you mean, still? That was our first date seven years ago.”

“Yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the confusion on your face. “Oh, did you think I asked you out right after I saw you? No, no. I spent a whole year absolutely fucking pining after you before I finally mustered the courage to ask you out.”

You assumed he might have liked you a little, based on the way he’d introduced himself to you. But you obviously didn’t know about his alleged year-long pining that preceded your first date. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe him, given your own year-long pining. It made little sense for the two of you to like each other for so long and not do anything about it.

On the other hand, considering the past few years, perhaps it made perfect sense.

Your heartbeat had sped up, so you argued childishly, “no, you didn’t.”

“I did. Ask anyone,” he said, grinning. He wasn’t as embarrassed about this as he used to be—and your surprise made it easier for him to admit everything. “I never knew how to love you quietly. But it still took me ages to talk to you even with everyone’s encouragement. And that, uh—our first conversation didn’t go very well.”

“Wait—what do you mean? It went very well,” you disagreed. “I remember everything you said word for word. ‘We have Sociology together, I saw you sleeping in class, very cute by the way, the professor does not know how to shut up, have you seen that new Studio Ghibli film, I recently watched their classic with some friends, My Neighbour Jungkook, I’m Totoro by the way, I thought maybe—wait—no—’”

He interrupted you once your smile had grown dangerously wide. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

“I would never!” you said through laughter. “I think I knew I was in it for life the moment you said all that.”

He had to look down because the bees inside him had multiplied, spreading rapidly to his head and his lungs and his stomach, and he was a little concerned that he’d start buzzing, too.

“Not one period, nothing,” you continued, a melancholic haze in your eyes. “Just commas and an endless stream of thought. You could have asked me to bury a body, I would have said yes.”

He smiled, but everything inside of him was turning upside down, returning to normal, then turning downside up.

Every time he remembered how he approached you seven years ago, he either felt a little uncomfortable or completely mortified. He’d never thought you’d remember that day so well and with such fondness.

“By the way,” you added when he did not speak, “you did look a little like you were about to confess to accidentally murdering my roommate when you started to speak.”

This finally made him chuckle, and he felt his skin thaw from the frozen state of amazement. He remembered hoping that you’d forget all about what he’d said that day. Now he realised he had never felt more thrilled that you remembered.

“I know,” he said. “I was shaking.”

“Yeah. I, um—” you trailed off, needing another minute. “I had a crush on you, too, actually. For a long while.”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of criminal disbelief. “You did not.”

You recognised your own suspicion in his words and smiled. However, unlike Jungkook, who owned up to his stressful pining and memorable first impression, you did not feel ready to confess to your silent sulking quite as easily.

“I did,” you said. “But you turned away every time I looked at you on campus, so I thought, oh, okay. That guy hates me for some reason. Nevermind.”

“I didn—I never—”

“I actually made a playlist before we met,” you added quickly before you could change your mind. “And I, uh, kept updating it throughout our relationship.”

You did not look at him when you said this, so you missed the befuddled look on his face.

“A pl—you made a playlist?” he repeated, his thoughts momentarily derailed. He couldn’t even hear the rain anymore. “And you never told me?”

“And I will continue to act like you don’t know about it,” you said.

He was too ecstatic to care. He hadn’t dared to imagine that he would have such a strong presence in your thoughts that you would create a playlist about him—for him? (he thought he might faint)—before you even met.

“No, b-but I’m supposed to be the one making grand gestures in our relationship, and you have a playlist about me? Ab-about us?” he questioned, almost frantic. “Is it—well, what songs are in it? About our relationship?”

You tried to put your words together, your slow, calculated breaths a stark contrast against his passionate energy. Another clap of thunder, unusually intense, rumbled in the sky.

“Sort of,” you finally answered. You thought that a playlist did not come anywhere close to everything he’d done and attempted to do for you, but you still struggled to articulate yourself. “Or songs that we both liked. Songs that we listened to together. Songs that we discovered on roadtrips—just, uh, stuff like that.”

He shook his head, every part of his skin itching with an unfathomable urge to hear these songs.

“You have to let me listen to it,” he stated.

“No,” you said, giving a determined shake of your head. “It’s enough that you know it exists.”

“I will absolutely never shut up about this,” he retorted, gesturing with his hands to emphasise his commitment to being annoying, “and I might end up telling more people.”

“I will kill you if I have to,” you warned.

“So I will haunt you, then,” he returned. “Is it on Spotify?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It’s private.”

“I am not above pulling a Sid and stealing your phone,” he said, resolute.

You snorted despite yourself.

“Okay. Fine,” you said. “Maybe I’ll give you the link after.”

Jungkook waited for further clarification, but you decided you’d said enough.

He was confused. He no longer had any clear delineations of time in his life—ever since he found you again, his whole life had shifted to “after.”

“After—after Sid?” he asked.

“After everything,” you replied, unintentionally ominous as your gaze wandered to the fragmented reflections of the clouds on the rain-soaked pavement. “After we leave London. After we deal with the label. After it stops fucking raining every time we go out together.”

Jungkook thought he could already see these things: the Parisian streets after you’ve left Sid in London, the peace after you’ve told the label about your relationship, the sun in the sky after the rain lost its courage to threaten you again.

“Okay,” he relented, his features softening. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “I know you will.”

He hummed, stepping on a loose floorboard with the edge of his boot.

“Now, then,” he said, “tell me about this crush you supposedly had on me.”

“It was a crush,” you insisted, your voice growing more fervent right away.

Jungkook smiled but tried to remain collected. He had decided it was better for his sanity not to believe you.

“I liked you ever since I saw you at that first freshman party,” you continued and he realised that he was absolutely, without a doubt not collected at all. “I spent that entire night scrolling through the list of people invited to this event on Facebook until I found your profile. But I didn’t dare to send you a friend request, because—well, you know. We hadn’t talked or anything. I thought maybe you’re not interested.”

He thought his heart might stop because this freshman event was where he first saw you—and for every waking and sleeping moment since then, he had been interested.

“I noticed you around campus after that,” you continued. “And I would have talked to you first, I think. If you hadn’t looked like you dreamed of my violent death every time you met my eye.”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the pillows of his palms.

“Well, obviously, I liked you too much to look at you and not glare,” he said, even though none of that was obvious. “I actually thought I developed some sort of an allergy right when I first saw you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “An allergy?”

“Yeah. Shortness of breath, just feeling hot all over, sweating profusely,” he elaborated, moving his hands away from his face to reveal his faint, nostalgic smile. “That had never happened to me before. It was either the dust in the room or you. And there wasn’t a lot of dust.”

You pursed your lips before your cheeks could stretch any further.

“I don’t know,” you teased, “they don’t clean the building that well.”

“It was you,” he stated firmly. “Got my breath catching in my throat. Gave me butterflies, made my heart race—made me feel all the things that people write embarrassing bubblegum pop songs about.”

You looked down to collect yourself before all the signals that your heart was sending to your brain could reflect on your face.

“Catchy songs, though,” you murmured.

“Catchy, sure,” he agreed, his tone wistful. “Until all those things they sing about happen to you, and you feel like you’re drowning.”

You felt a little like you might drown just now as your heart pounded in your chest, angry at you for another wasted year.

“I’m really happy we finally ended up together,” he said. “Seven years ago, and today.”

You finally looked up at him and remembered all the times when you used to worry that you had already lived through your happiest moments, and any little joy you’d come across later would pale in comparison. You knew better now.

Jungkook was your happiest moment, and he was right here. He’d always been right here.

“I love you,” you said, a little suffocated by the overwhelming warmth in your chest. “I’ve loved you every day for all these years.”

He was smiling so widely that his lip ring dug into his stretched lips. He reached out to caress your cheek, resting his palm on the side of your face for a moment, his eyes bright and glittering.

He kissed you slowly, his bottom lip lingering between your lips while the rain washed the noise of the city away. He tasted love and longing on your tongue, and he had never in his life wished for the sunshine to stay away longer.

The rain listened. It had become a fundamental part of your present and a prophet of your future: the two of you were going to spend the rest of your lives listening to the rain and falling in love.

Since Rated Riot had a day off and the other members let you know where they were by bickering continuously in the groupchat, you and Jungkook locked yourselves in his hotel room when you returned.

You changed into dry clothes first, and then noticed that Sid still hadn’t replied to your text. In case he really hadn’t received it, you sent another one—with just question marks—hoping that he’d interpret your repeated messages as a sign of your desperation to talk to him.

You put your phone away and climbed back into bed. The sun had already set outside the window, casting faint, elongated shadows around you in the room. You and Jungkook listened to the music playing on his phone and returned to the snacks he had bought for your film night a few days earlier.

As the song switched to the latest Bad Omens collaboration, you closed your eyes to nod along, and he reached over to snatch a chocolate-covered cherry bonbon from you, causing a spark of static electricity to pass between you.

“Sorry,” he said, chuckling after he heard you gasp. “It’s from the bees, I think. They must have somehow electrified me.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely something that bees can do,” you played along, sitting up on the bed and unwrapping another candy for him. “Maybe you should take an ice bath to avoid these after-effects.”

He accepted the candy with a grin. “No. I like shocking you when I touch you.”

To be fair, he didn’t need bees or electricity for that—but you decided not to point that out.

You realised how much peace you felt here: listening to music and eating sweets with him across the bed from you. You didn’t think there was anything you still needed in life. Watching him close his eyes as the chocolate melted on his tongue, and hearing him hum with childlike delight as he swallowed, filled an emptiness inside of you that nothing—no trips abroad, no late-night drinks, no shopping sessions—could have filled.

This random moment in his hotel room was nothing at all, yet it was everything.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, startling you both.

“Sid?” Jungkook asked eagerly, letting the remaining chocolate melt slowly on his fingers while you reached for your phone.

“No,” you replied, checking the screen. “It’s Maggie. She just posted the backstage pictures with our list.”

His expression tightened. “Oh.”

“There’s nothing from Sid,” you added.

Jungkook finally popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. He decided—quite abruptly—that he’s had enough discussions about Sid and everything you’ve been through because of him.

“You know what we should do?” he asked, licking the remnants of the chocolate off his fingers. “We should go to the sea after the tour ends.”

“Oh—we—yeah?” you asked, stumbling over your words. You thought it was very unfair of him to ask you this while running his tongue over his fingers all in the same breath. “We—but we don’t know when that’ll be.”

“Whenever,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

It took you half of a second to say “okay,” and he didn’t think he’d ever learn how to stop his heart from soaring every time your agreement came so quickly, so easily.

To be honest, you didn’t know why he even asked. It was fairly clear that there weren’t many instances where you would have refused him.

However, your response still painted his features with every warm hue in existence, and he settled back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows and closing his eyes. As you watched him, you were forced to acknowledge one more time that witnessing him like this should have required an admission ticket—and a sign reading, “do not touch the exhibit.”

“I feel like I have everything,” he said, unknowingly echoing every sentiment you felt. “I don’t even care if Sid replies to you and if our plan works.”

You leaned against the pillows on the other side of the bed and turned to your side to face him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, a melodious hum in his tone. He opened his eyes to meet yours and placed his hand on the pillow beneath his head. “We’re—you’re here with me. The tour is going well, it’s—that’s it. That’s my whole dream.”

He looked beautiful in an almost devastating way. He looked like every extravagant adjective that sounded made-up when you encountered it in writing for the first time: transfixing. Beguiling. Effulgent. Pulchritudinous.

You really wanted to touch the exhibit.

“Do you know how we formed Rated Riot?” he asked suddenly, distracting you.

You raised your eyebrows, then turned your gaze away. Jungkook realised you probably didn’t understand where his question had come from, but you didn’t ask him anything, so he did not explain.

Truthfully, you did not know the complete story behind how Rated Riot got together. You only knew what each of the boys was doing when they first met.

“I don’t know much,” you admitted. “I know that Hoseok kicked things off.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, then stopped. “Or maybe Namjoon, actually? Because Namjoon saw Hoseok at some gig that he went to. When he asked about his band, Hoseok gave him, like, fifteen business cards. But even though he filled in for all these bands, it was still only maybe one gig per week. That’s nothing. So, Namjoon told him he’s too talented for that shit. He said he needed his own band.”

You recalled Yoongi mentioning that Namjoon was the first producer that Rated Riot have worked with, but you hadn’t realised this was before the band was even formed.

Suddenly, the broken air conditioner in the room whirred back to life, interrupting your thoughts.

“S-so, they started talking,” Jungkook said, momentarily distracted by the loud noise. “Hoseok wanted to be independent, and Namjoon didn’t push him to sign with Jett Records back then. He helped him. Unofficially, I guess. They found Taehyung very randomly at this one after-party for somebody at our label—well, our future label. Namjoon took Hoseok there to network, and Taehyung just happened to be there. No one knows why, but you know Taehyung. He’s always going to be right where he needs to be.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding knowingly. Taehyung always seemed to find his way to the people and places meant for him.

“Yeah, so he was at that party,” Jungkook continued, “and he overheard Namjoon and Hoseok discussing the plan for Hoseok’s band. They were saying that they needed a bassist first. And Taehyung just chimed in like, “I play bass.” Just out of the blue. Namjoon asked him who he was, and he introduced himself. Namjoon then asked what he was doing here, and Taehyung said, “I’ll tell you if you let me join the band”—which he never did, by the way. We still don’t know what he was doing at that party.”

You chuckled softly. Knowing Taehyung, nothing in this story surprised you, but you were still impressed by how quickly his energy captivated Hoseok and Namjoon.

“So, they let him join?” you asked.

“Namjoon claims he auditioned for them first,” Jungkook said, clicking his lips questioningly. “But one time when Hoseok was very drunk, he admitted that he’d felt desperate. Namjoon was busy and couldn’t help him much, so Hoseok had to figure things out on his own. He said he called and invited Taehyung to join right away. He thought they could find a proper bassist later, and Taehyung could fill the spot for the time being. Funny.”

“Oh,” you said. “Because he hadn’t heard him play yet?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He hadn’t seen Taehyung even holding a bass before. So, he had doubts. I guess I get that. Anyway. He invited Namjoon to their first rehearsal and Taehyung blew Namjoon the fuck away. That’s it. Hoseok said that after that, he was worried Namjoon would sign Taehyung and leave him behind. Not that Namjoon would do that, but uh—yeah. Taehyung was that good.”

“They’re both that good,” you said. “Hoseok never acknowledges his own talent.”

“Right?” he nodded eagerly, turning to his side to look at you. There was a warm smile on your lips that Jungkook really enjoyed. “They’re both amazing.”

“So, how do you come into the picture?” you asked.

He took a breath before answering.

“I saw Hoseok and Taehyung playing at this dive bar that Sid dragged me to,” he said.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “He said I was annoying and mopey, so he kept taking me to a new place every night. There were hardly any people at this bar that night. Taehyung was singing, but he sang, like, one verse, and then they launched into the longest instrumental break I’ve ever fucking heard. And it was incredible. Shit, I—I’m more into vocal music. But seeing Hoseok and Taehyung play together—there was another guitarist with them, actually, I don’t even know who it was—anyway. It made me realise how powerful instrumental music can be on its own.”

A dreamy fog had descended upon his face, and only now did you realise that the air conditioner had stopped working again, seemingly calling it a day. You appreciated the silence and the way Jungkook looked when he played back the memories in his head, his eyes shimmering with the bright lights and the sounds of the bar that night.

“I didn’t know that Sid met the other members before you joined the band,” you said.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “He also said he could be a better bassist than ‘that guy.’”

“He—of course,” you groaned. “Wait until Luna hears this. She’ll take care of Sid for us on Taehyung’s behalf, I think.”

He nodded, snickering. “I bet. But Sid actually left the bar before they finished their set. I stayed back. After they wrapped up, I went up to Hoseok at the bar and told him how much I enjoyed their performance. Told him I was thinking of picking up drums—”

He paused abruptly, noticing your surprise before you remembered him mentioning this to you.

“Oh, was this when you and Sid were planning to start your own band?” you asked. You had assumed they were joking.

“Yeah,” he replied, snickering. He had been joking, but he still found drummers to be effortlessly cool. “So, Hoseok delivered the longest fucking speech about what his job was like. Don’t ask him about it, by the way, or you’ll have to sit through three hours of him making drum sounds. But anyway, I was pretty drunk by then, and I don’t know, I guess I hummed along to some song that was playing or something.”

You nodded. Jungkook was almost always humming something.

“Then Hoseok said they needed a vocalist for their band,” he continued, “because Taehyung didn’t want to do it. And he noticed me humming, so he jokingly asked if I happened to sing. I said sometimes, nothing serious. Everybody sings sometimes. He told me to sing something for him. I told him to get fucked, we’re in a bar.” Jungkook had to pause here to let you finish laughing. “And Hoseok just shrugged, like, “no one’s at the mic, why not?””

“That did it for you?” you asked.

He nodded. “That fucking did it for me.”

You laughed again, knowing that he would never shy away from anything that resembled a challenge.

“What did you sing?” you asked.

Jungkook gave you a look. There was only one song that always lingered at the back of his mind. You could have guessed it, really, but you were a little frightened about its significance in this context.

“You—you sang Biffy Clyro?” Your throat was dry all of a sudden and useless questions continued to pour out of your dumbfounded chest. “At that bar? In front of Hoseok? “M-Many of Horror?””

“Of course,” Jungkook said, as if there had never been any other song he could have chosen to perform that night, besides the one that followed you and him throughout your relationship. “It—it really fucked with me, though. We had just broken up maybe a month ago, so it was still fresh, you know? And this was my first time singing “Many of Horror” in public, on top of that. And I was—I didn’t do well. I think I missed half the lyrics in the last chorus because it was too much.”

He snickered lightly, trying to lessen the impact of his words. You felt frozen.

“I-I was standing there,” he continued, and you could almost see it, “hiccuping to the I still believe, it’s you and me ‘til the end of time, while Hoseok just watched me, expressionless. And then I drank half the bar right after I got off stage.”

He sang the two lines of the song as he shared the story, his voice quiet and tender, and you thought you must have resembled Hoseok right now—so lost in all the emotions brewing inside you that you did not immediately realise he had stopped speaking, and it might have been appropriate for you to reply.

“Y-you still sounded great, though,” you managed. “Obviously.”

“Yeah, maybe four people clapped. Out of the ten or so at the bar,” he said, chuckling. “Hoseok told me he had to make a call, told me to stay right where I was, and then he disappeared. He returned twenty minutes later with some dishevelled guy in a turtleneck with a little hole in the collar.”

You recognised the description. “Namjoon?”

“Namjoon,” Jungkook confirmed, the smile on his face matching the one hesitantly spreading on yours. “I was fucking wasted. They were saying I had to meet with them for rehearsals, they wanted to see how I’d sound with them. And I’m—I couldn’t fucking think straight. They were telling me they wanted me to join the band, and all I could think about was that you weren’t here.”

The excitement in your eyes quickly turned into pain as a sharp twinge of longing pierced through your chest. It cut into every open crevice of your heart, reminding you of the way it had bled in those first few months after you broke up—even on this particular day, while Jungkook was struggling to get himself together in the face of his future, and you were likely at home, tossing and turning in your bed because you did not know what to do with yourself.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” Jungkook admitted, his eyes fixed on the bedsheets, his voice filled with incorrigible regret. “But we weren’t talking anymore. I thought—there was this one moment where I thought, well, what’s the point? What’s the use of joining this band if I can’t even tell you about it? A-and they weren’t even a full group when I met them anyway. It took about two more weeks for Yoongi to join.”

You made a conscious effort to swallow the lump in your throat, and shifted your focus to Yoongi to allow for the sudden ache in your chest to subside.

“Yeah, uh—Yoongi mentioned that he was the last to join,” you commented, hoping to steer the conversation back to a less emotionally charged topic. “He used to play for a different band before, right?”

“Yeah. Somnia,” Jungkook said. The name did not sound familiar to you. “They weren’t—um, going anywhere. That’s a very blunt way to put it, but they were just stuck. And Yoongi and Namjoon go way back. So, Namjoon called him one day and lied that he was producing for this new, promising band in need of a permanent guitarist. Said they had a solid rhythm section, but their artistic direction needed some refinement.”

“And, uh,” your voice was a little lighter, “I assume they had a great vocalist, too?��

Jungkook smiled. “They did, yeah. I was trying to be modest, but you brought it up.”

You snickered, offering a nonchalant shrug. “Just trying to help you out.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Yeah. So, Yoongi was the last one to join. He’d—he has a lot more creative freedom with us than he had with Somnia, which still isn’t a lot. But it’s something. And I think that was the main reason why he left them.”

“And they were okay with him leaving?” you asked.

Jungkook turned on his back and sighed.

“I assume they weren’t,” he said, briefly glancing at the ceiling before turning to look at you. “That’s why he doesn’t talk much about it.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, but anyway, Yoongi joined and we were complete,” Jungkook continued. “We released “Haunting” independently. That—okay, that was in June. Some time after that, this radio DJ that Yoongi knew played our song on his radio show as a birthday gift to Yoongi. Namjoon and Christian Jett—”

“CJ, apparently,” you cut in.

“Right. CJ,” he repeated. “They heard the song at some event. Apparently, CJ loved it, so Namjoon told him about us. When CJ found out we weren’t signed to a label, he reached out to us. It took Taehyung and me three days to convince Yoongi and Hoseok to go to that meeting. They both had some shitty experiences with record labels in the past. But we persuaded them to at least show up. CJ had us perform “Haunting” and “Cursed” for him, the only songs we had released at the time, and he signed us on the spot. Well, after Yoongi finished negotiating with him about our contracts.”

Your heart started to race as if you had just realised how much the universe had to align, how many intricate coincidences had to happen to lead Jungkook to his band, and to bring the two of you to this moment in his hotel room.

“We started working on our album,” he went on, “and about four months later—in July, right?—the record started to finally come together. That’s when CJ started to look for a manager for us.”

You took a breath and finished for him, “and reached out to me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “All CJ told us was that he found someone. He mentioned that this person was already working under the label and that the band they managed had recently broken up.”

You did not interrupt the silence that followed, because you thought that Jungkook had paused for a few seconds. But he stopped speaking altogether, waiting for you to share your perspective.

“I-I was, uh, Nick’s assistant at the time,” you said, realising what the silence was for. “We were working with The Jungle Will Get You.” You turned to Jungkook and he shook his head. “Yeah, they were—they weren’t popular. And the members weren’t really motivated, especially towards the end. They split up, eventually. Nick moved on to manage Reconnaissance, and I took on administrative tasks for various bands under the label. It was only for a few months, but I thought I’d end up buried in endless piles of papers. So, when HR called me in to tell me about Rated Riot, I pretended to know exactly who you were to get that job.”

He was smiling next to you on the bed, lost in the memories that did not hurt anymore now that he shared them with you.

“I doubt even HR knew who we were,” he said, gazing up at the ceiling and clasping his hands on his stomach. “I’m just—I’m constantly—I don’t know. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it was you that they chose for us. I mean, you’re amazing, you could have worked with any band out there. But they picked you for us.”

You grappled with the same impossible coincidence.

“I’m thinking about that, too,” you said. “You had so much potential and CJ... I wasn’t sure if he even saw it when he reached out to me. Not to mention, you and I were—we were broken up for two years at that point?”

“A year and seven months,” Jungkook replied.

“Right,” you said, slightly out of breath from the precision of his answer.

He turned to face you. “Did you ever consider turning down that offer to work with us after you found out I’m in the band?”

You exhaled what little oxygen you had left in your lungs. You’d considered many things when you saw him again that day, and you realised now that you still hadn’t fully grasped all the thoughts that had passed through your mind at the time.

“For maybe half a second,” you said. “I was very confident that we could move on from our relationship.”

He grinned. “Look how well that worked out for us.”

“Mhmm, right?” you agreed, meeting his gaze. “So professional.”

He chuckled, intoxicated by your proximity and the peace he found in the knowledge that the universe had put in a good effort to lead you two here.

“I know that—well, it seems like everything just fell into place to get all of you together for Rated Riot,” you said. “But it wasn’t that easy for you guys, was it?”

“Yeah, no, it definitely wasn’t,” he agreed. “After Yoongi joined, we struggled to write one fucking original song for months. We thought the band was going nowhere.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was that bad?”

“Yeah. Everything we tried to work on was shit,” he said. “We were getting drunk every night, trying to find something that could work as our first song. And nothing worked.”

“So, what happened?” you asked.

“You,” he answered simply.

Your brows creased. “How—what do you mean?”

“Namjoon pushed us to release something authentic for our debut single,” he began. “And the other guys decided to kick my ass and force me to work. They knew I was writing something, but it—it wasn’t anything serious. Not like what they write. You know I can’t just create shit on the spot. My lyrics have to be about something that I’ve been through. And you’re—you are every single meaningful experience that I have had in my life. The guys—they wanted to use that. So, you’re sort of the main reason why Rated Riot are where they are”

You exhaled slowly, your mind filled with thoughts just like it had been the first time you walked into Rated Riot’s meeting room and saw Jungkook there—looking only slightly different from the music video Luna had shown you before, and remarkably different from your memories.

“And that—this is why I brought this up now,” he said. “It’s all because of you. We broke up, and Sid dragged me to that bar to help me get over you. I sang our song to Hoseok, and he brought Namjoon to convince me to join the band. I wrote “Haunting” about you, and CJ heard it and decided to sign us. We put out several albums, filled with songs I’ve ever written for you, and now we’re on this tour. If it weren’t for you, I just—w-we wouldn’t be here.”

You felt your skin prickle, the sensation quickly turning to a painful sting, and you looked away. Frankly, you did not believe that your influence was this significant—not even after Jungkook had told you that it was. These events seemed like an unbelievable sequence of coincidences that he decided to treat as signs, and you found that you couldn’t breathe if you looked at them as signs, too.

You felt his eyes on you and only meant to glance at him very briefly, but he held your gaze for a few moments longer, watching as a shuddering breath passed your lips. Then he propped himself up on his elbows.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he declared, the look in his eyes so final, so determined that you were almost afraid to move when you met his gaze. “And then I’m not letting you go. I don’t care if Sid texts.”

Your voice was very small. “I don’t care, either.”

“Fuck,” was more of an echo than a real whisper as his lips finally collided with yours. The kiss was deep and vehement and full of everything that had built up inside you over this day alone.

But then his tongue met yours and you realised that this day wasn’t all that special. You could have kissed him at any point of any day, and you would have still felt overwhelmed and aching, and you would have needed him right at the tips of your fingers as much as ever.

He tasted like the chocolate-covered cherry bonbons that he’d bought you because they reminded him of the summer nights you’d spent together. He tasted like the sticky homemade candy that the two of you baked when there were no other sweets in your dorm room and you craved something, but refused to leave, refused to pull away. Like the moments on the balcony of his house after you snuck away from his cousins. Like the rainy walks to class when your hair would be sticking to your face, but you couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at each other.

All the thoughts that had been screaming at you for the past fifteen minutes suddenly quieted down as he leaned closer until he was hovering over you, one of his hands on the side of your face.

He felt shivers on the back of his neck when your tentative fingers found their way to his hair. He exhaled softly against your mouth and stilled momentarily when he heard your quiet whimper in response to his kiss, to his breathing, to him.

The room suddenly spun completely out of control around him.

He needed you so much and for such a long time that every time you were with him, every time you kissed him, he worried that he was dreaming again. So he kissed you harder, held onto you tighter—not wanting to find out if he was asleep, not wanting to wake up.

He unbuttoned your denim jacket without pulling away and slid it off your arms, holding the side of your neck with one of his hands. His kiss was so deep, so riveting that you felt your lungs give up, felt them pack up and leave, forcing you to breathe him instead.

His hands caressed your shoulders, finding the straps of your shirt and sliding them down your arms—and then stopping abruptly when he realised that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

Exhaling shakily, he pulled back—lightheaded and winded and completely obsessed with you—just to look at you for a minute. There was a playful grin on his lips when he kissed you again.

You pulled away enough to ask, “what?”

“Nothing,” he murmured in-between kisses, “you’re fucking perfect. But I want this off.”

He pulled you closer and you instinctively bucked your hips off the bed, causing a momentary hitch in his breath. He lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling the material up and tracing the invisible symbols on your skin along your ribs, your chest, and your arms. Tossing your shirt aside without looking, he leaned back in, yearning for the feel of your lips on his again and accepting that he could not last one minute without you. Perhaps not even one second.

He felt your hand on his chest, trailing down to the edge of his black t-shirt and distracting him from the kiss with the softness of your touch. You lifted his shirt up to his chest—as far as it would go without breaking the kiss—and felt him hiss at the cold sensation of your bare fingertips on his stomach.

“I’m sorr—” you began, but the second you pulled away to apologise, he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss.

“No.” His whispers were frenzied against your lips. You could have electrocuted him with your touch, sliced him into pieces with your fingers, and he would have thanked you for it. “No. You—d-don’t apologise. You’re perfect.”

He heard the way you cursed under your breath—under his breath, too—and he found it hard to inhale against the pressure in his stomach, against the tightness in his jeans. He was humming with near desperation when you pulled him closer, running your hands over his arms, your touch gentle enough to truly kill him.

He was frantic, eager to touch you, to feel your arms, your thighs, your chest, your neck—all of you—before someone interrupted you. Before his time with you ended. He knew he had the rest of his life to spend with you, but now he worried it still wouldn’t be enough.

His tongue moved over yours, his kiss deep, rushing, dizzying. He did not need to look to find the button on your pants, unclasp it, and slide the rough material down your thighs, swallowing a moan when he felt you shivering under his touch.

He quickly pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside before kissing you again, high on the sound of your lips smacking against each other. He shuddered when your hands unexpectedly met his on the belt of his jeans.

“Let me do it,” you asked in a whisper—but he was wholeheartedly yours at that moment, and you didn’t even have to ask.

“Okay,” he complied, allowing you to gently push him back onto the bed.

Closing his eyes, he savoured the newfound sweetness from your kiss on his tongue. He felt you shuffle closer to him on the bed and had to take a sharp breath when one of your hands slid down his abdomen to his jeans.

You leaned over to kiss him again, and he broke—only capable of lying idly for so long—reaching for you and caressing your shoulders and your arms. He made it almost impossible for you to keep doing what you were doing; unruly wildfires blazed everywhere he touched you.

Jungkook was determined not to break the kiss even as you undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. He thought he did well. But then he lifted his hips off the bed to help you pull his jeans off and you brushed your fingers over the bulge in his boxers—your touch featherlight against the material—and he was very nearly finished.

He whimpered lightly into the kiss, his breaths growing heavier, his hands growing greedier. You made sure to hold one of his hands in yours to prevent him from flipping you over on the bed, and he responded to that by cheating: he held onto you tighter and attempted to pull you closer every time he gently bit your bottom lip and you got distracted by the pleasant sting.

Finally, you managed to slide his boxers down his thighs, catching each of his heavy breaths on your tongue. You pulled back, and he was about to protest until he saw you throw one of your legs over his, straddling his hips.

He watched you slide your panties down your legs while hovering over his thighs and he wasn’t sure how long ago he’d stopped blinking. Mesmerised by the sight, he didn’t immediately rush to assist you in maintaining your balance as you lifted one knee off the bed.

Once he recovered enough to remember to inhale, he sat up and pulled you flush to his chest. You gasped in surprise when he hooked his fingers behind the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs faster.

“I said let me do it,” you reminded him with a pout, and he kissed you instead of replying, too impatient to wait.

Your hands slipped down his chest and your hips bucked into his just barely, but he exhaled deeply, breaking the kiss. You used the moment while he was dazed to push him back into the pillows.

He fell back on the bed, knowing very well that he’d been in this position before—with you on top of him, your fingers tracing over his length before finally wrapping around the base—but he still shivered, throwing his head back into the pillows. He still kept his eyes fixed on your face when you started to move your hand in gentle strokes, killing him a little more with each movement of your wrist.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “At least let—l-let me touch you.”

He phrased it like a request, but he did not mean it like one. You didn’t resist when he reached for you, his hands travelling over your thighs, lingering on your lower back, squeezing your ass, and pulling your hips into his.

One of your hands had come to rest on his chest for support while you continued to stroke his length in deliberately slow, languid motions. You could feel him getting harder under your touch, and you closed your eyes, your teeth sinking into your lip.

He could not look away from you. He wanted to be the one to bite your lips, but he couldn’t move close enough to you with your hands on him. He settled for exploring the skin on your hips, sliding his hands up and down your thighs. Soon, you felt the tips of his fingers brush lightly over your stomach and then descend lower to slip between your folds.

He exhaled deeply through his mouth when he felt how wet you were, and that was enough for him—he would have found a way to hold you tightly against his chest even if you were across the world from him.

In a flash, he was sitting up, connecting your lips again and bringing his tongue over yours while he gathered the wetness between your folds with his thumb. Your grip on his length tightened instinctively, and Jungkook groaned, automatically applying more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves on your clit—just enough to have you arch your back into him.

He felt you move faster, squeezing the base and speeding up until your fingers brushed over his tip. Trying to fight back a moan, he reflexively bucked his hips into your hand while two of his fingers teased your entrance, sliding over your wet folds in a teasing, tickling motion. You broke the kiss, sighing and dropping your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t give you much time to catch your breath—you didn’t give him any of that, so he thought this was only fair—as he kissed along your jaw, gently sucking on a spot on the nape of your neck. His fingers continued stimulating your clit with a combination of light, fast circles and harder, slower strokes that he knew would make you break for him.

“F-fuck, wait,” you exhaled, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. “I w-want you.”

“You have me, my love,” he whispered back, running his tongue over the faint mark he’d left on the sensitive skin of your neck and humming, his tone gravelly and rasp, when you hissed at the feeling. “All of me.”

You gripped his wrist tighter. “Lie back.”

He didn’t immediately obey, opting to use his only free hand—the one you couldn’t hold, because you needed both hands to stop his determined fingers from drawing you any closer to the edge—to squeeze your ass and pull your hips over his length instead.

“Lie back,” you ordered again, your words firm, but breathless. It started a raging flame in his lower stomach, but he still resisted a little more—kissing you again, sucking on your tongue, sliding his hands over your thighs, and nearly making you lose it before he finally leaned back against the pile of pillows.

Jungkook still thought he was doing fairly well, considering the burning on his skin and inside him, but watching you unwrap a condom package and slide the latex down his length—torturously slowly, it seemed to him, to really test his limits—he thought he might lose it, after all.

You felt him jerk slightly in your hand, sensitive as you rolled the condom down his length, and your deep exhale blended with his sharp inhale. He locked the sound of your breathing somewhere deep in his mind, too focused on your touch to revel in it right now, but far too inspired by the response your body had to his to forget it altogether.

He bit his lip, his eyes locked on yours as you positioned yourself over his length. He was convinced that you were teasing him on purpose when you brought his tip closer to your entrance and then paused. He could already feel the wetness of your folds on him, and the second he lifted his hands to touch you, he was forced to let them drop in utter defeat when you finally slid his tip in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight, warm walls as you struggled to take all of him in at once, and stopped, most cruelly, halfway in.

You looked breathtaking on top of him and there wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind, so he couldn’t offer to help you anymore, couldn’t even guide you down on his length. He could barely stay still, biting his lip and clutching the sheets so he wouldn’t ram his hips into yours.

“You’ll kill me,” he whispered in a strained voice when you lifted your hips again, sliding his length over your folds, but not slipping it back inside.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him again, taking all of him in, inch by inch, and a soft sigh escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. “O-oh.”

You had to suppress another whimper when your hips met his, the stretch of his length stinging pleasantly. He hissed at the feeling, his hands flying to your hips to keep you in place.

His touch reminded you of Amsterdam suddenly: of the way he had held you, the way he had felt after all these years.

You wanted him so much that it no longer felt like a simple wish. He felt like a necessity and you could not understand how you’d ever managed to go on with your day when he wasn’t in the room with you.

You needed a moment to adjust to him and Jungkook watched you all through it. Even though he was barely able to keep his eyes open, he took in all of your reactions as the initial sting subsided and your hips twitched against his.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Move for me, love. Please?”

You sighed as his endearing words—and the loving lilt in his voice—lit up your stomach and made you involuntarily clench around him. He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips. You had told him to lie back, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could obey.

Finally, you began to move and he threw his head back, swallowing hard at the feeling. You rotated your hips in slow circles, allowing his entire length to delicately rub the walls inside you, and he could not remember when he’d last felt you like this. He could not remember anything outside this room, and when you rested both of your hands on his chest for balance, he seemed to forget his own name, too.

“Fuck,” was a soft, jagged breath that got caught in his throat as he watched you in the dimly lit room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out your silhouette, and he squeezed your ass tighter so he wouldn’t immediately lose it at the sight.

You drew back all of a sudden, placing one hand on his chest and resting the other against the mattress, right by his arm. You pulled your bottom lip in with your teeth as you lifted your hips, then slowly lowered yourself on him again. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, and Jungkook parted his lips, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth every time your thighs met his.

You shifted your weight to your knees to increase the pace and he nearly choked on his breath when you placed your hands on his shoulders and bounced your hips against his, his length gliding against your velvety walls.

“Y-you—oh, fuck. You look s-so beautiful,” he stammered, his hands travelling from your hips to your waist, then back down again.

Love and lust burned in his darkened eyes when he looked up at you, his hair falling in messy curls around his face. His chest rose and fell underneath you, the muscles on his abdomen tightening each time you sank down on him again.

You watched him like this and you changed your mind about describing him; an adjective that would fit him had not been invented yet.

You tried to respond to his words, but he suddenly lifted his hips off the bed to meet you halfway and knocked all breath out of your lungs, forcing a soft whine to pass your lips instead as you leaned into him, losing your balance.

It was starting to get too much—how deeply he reached inside of you, how tightly he held onto you—and Jungkook noticed it right away. Squeezing your hips, he adjusted his position by bending his knees for a better angle and bouncing you on his lap very slowly once, then twice, before pulling you into his chest and thrusting into you faster.

Curses and almost desperate whines fell from your lips, matching the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. He knew he had hit your sweet spot when he felt your nails digging into his chest, when you tightened around him, when your strained breaths got louder, when your teeth grazed his collarbone—and he growled, gripping your hips tighter and trapping you against his chest with his other arm.

“Jungkook—” you panted, barely able to speak, and the sound of his name on your lips ignited the room around him.

He grunted softly and flipped you both to your sides, pulling your back into his chest by wrapping his arms around your waist and chest, his grip firm, deliberately inescapable, but his fingers gentle as he teased your nipples. His thrusts were slower at this new angle, but now they were deep and hard. It was your increased breathing and louder, uncontrollable chants of his name that encouraged him to speed up.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. And again, louder when you clenched around him, “f-fuck.”

This position allowed him to reach even deeper inside you and the way your walls sucked him in was as blissful as it was worrisome—he wanted this to last, and he didn’t think it would. Not when he had you so close to him, inhaling the scent of your apple shampoo, peppering breathy kisses on the side of your neck, feeling the goosebumps that he brought to your skin when he caressed your nipples, and thinking he might actually explode every time your body jolted against his with each one of his thrusts.

He slid one of his hands down your navel and kept his palm right above your entrance for a distracted minute, feeling himself move in and out of you, and groaning into your shoulder before lowering his hand to your clit. You writhed against him as he rubbed on a soft, gummy spot there, bringing you dangerously close to your high.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimpered, almost helplessly clutching his arm that was wrapped around your chest. “I’m—s-so close.”

“I’m here, my love,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Anything you were going to say died on your tongue when you felt his lips on your neck again. His fingers continued to massage the soft spot between your folds and your walls clenched and pulsated around him with each thrust of his hips. White clouds gathered on the edges of your vision and a low moan passed your lips as the knot in your stomach tightened.

Jungkook felt you tremble in his arms and pulled you into his chest harder. Keeping quiet had stopped being an option for you when he pressed on your clit with the pillows of his fingers, his hips continuously drilling into you—he remembered the spot you liked, and he made sure to hit it every time. He felt you tighten again, so close to your peak, and he relished in your loud whimpers.

Pulling his lip ring in with his teeth, he held you tightly against him to maintain a steady pace, his strokes assured and calculated, to push you completely over the edge. He fell impossibly more in love with you when his name got caught in your throat with your breath.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed as you writhed in his arms, coming down from your high. “S-so pretty—oh, fuck, my love—when you come for me.”

The anticipation of his own climax soon caused his hips to start moving with a certain frenzy, and he pulled all the way out before plunging himself into you again and fully bottoming out.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” he grunted breathlessly, twitching inside of you.

His hips stilled completely and he cursed again, spilling himself into the condom. Groaning deeply, he drove his hips into yours instinctively, this way prolonging his pleasure and the time he spent watching you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet. He thought he heard you whisper a breathless I love you and he was convinced he came again just at the sound of it.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck and his voice cracked in the middle of his breathless chants, “fuck, I love you so much—I-I love you so fucking much—”

He still didn’t release his grip on you, lifting his head to kiss your neck again, while the two of you tried to recover and accepted, eventually, that you probably never truly would.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Then, again, from the back of his throat, “fuck.”

You turned around as much as you could with his arms around you, and met his lips with your own, humming into the kiss and causing him to lose his sanity again—although, to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d even regained it yet.

Your bodies remained locked in an almost desperate embrace for another minute, your lips moving leisurely against each other as your breaths mingled and the room—but not your hearts—quieted down.

Unfortunately, you had to strain your neck to kiss him from this position, and Jungkook ended up having to let go of you. He pulled out carefully—the gentle contact still making you hiss from sensitivity—and helped you roll to your other side to face him.

After pressing another kiss to your lips, he grabbed a stray pillow and placed it next to your head. He touched your chin gently, prompting you to lift your head so he could slide the pillow underneath.

You smiled at the unnecessary, but very appreciated gesture. “I love you.”

His chest contemplated bursting.

“I love you,” he replied. “So much that I am not—I don’t want you to leave this room. Or my bed, actually. I want to stay with you every second of every day, and I’m okay if every court would qualify me as insane for that.”

You snickered into the pillow, your expression radiant. “I don’t think you’re insane.”

He grinned and got up to discard the condom before climbing back into bed.

“And I want to stay, too,” you added, closing your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he got comfortable on the bed. “Not just tonight, but always?”

“Of course,” you whispered, your voice turning lighter, “but I do have my own room.”

He settled in his spot next to you and draped an arm over your waist with a soft grunt. “Fuck if I knew why.”

He pulled back slightly to see your laughter. You didn’t seem like you were going to object or tell him that you should leave, but he still caressed your cheek, bringing his fingers over the smile lines by your lips that he had caused. His heart fought fiercely against his mind at the sight of them. He was almost ready to call Rated Riot’s next song “Smile Lines” and just sigh dreamily into the microphone for five minutes while Yoongi played gentle piano chords in the background.

“I think you should stay with me everywhere we go,” he said, leaning in to connect your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. His voice was a whisper against your mouth, “so we could do this again. And again. And again.”

You broke the kiss—and he would have been very upset about that, but you did that to laugh again, and he understandably forgot everything he was thinking of doing.

“You have a show tomorrow,” you reminded him gently, your eyes warm.

He shrugged. “So we’ll have to take a break for a few hours.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to contain your smile to an appropriate level. “Hmm.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “Sounds good?”

“You are messing with my head,” you whispered.

He grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. “I love you.”

You kissed him back but made sure to click your lips in feigned disapproval as you pulled away. “What did I just say?”

“You messed with mine first,” he countered, his quiet laughter blending with the warmth of your kiss.

He had already stolen all air from your lungs, robbed your mind of every thought you possessed before him, and kept your heart hostage—and now he was beaming like he knew very well he’d done all that. Like he wasn’t one bit sorry about ingraining himself in your life so much that it felt like you shared one soul, and it had stayed with him after you broke up: forcing him to suffer from the weight of it, while you searched for something missing inside you.

“I love you,” you said again. Your words were a whisper and they got lost on his tongue but found their way to his heart anyway.

Planting a few quick, butterfly kisses to your lips, he leaned back against the pillows, keeping his palm on the side of your face so he could rub gentle circles over your cheek with his thumb.

He loved you, and sometimes this love was all that he could think about.

Other times, however, the shadows in the room grew just a little darker.

“Sid hasn’t replied, huh?” he asked quietly, reluctantly.

You sighed, shaking your head. Your phone had been silent all night, and the more you tried to ignore the silence, the more noticeable it became.

“Should I text him?” he suggested. “To poke the bear a little.”

You frowned and felt your stomach sink—a feeling that Jungkook made even worse by pulling away from you and allowing for the brutal, cold air of the room to fill the space where his hand had been.

“What do you mean?” you asked, sitting up.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand.

You moved closer to be able to see the screen over his shoulder. You frowned the whole time, but it really did not take Jungkook more than a minute to compose a message that almost sparked an argument between the two of you.

After some relatively mild back and forth—consisting of your annoyed, “I told you I want to keep you out of this” that was followed immediately by his melodramatic, “I’m doing this because I love you”—the two of you reached a compromise.

Look, his text to Sid read. I know you’ve been texting my girlfriend. Stop. Let’s keep this shit between us.

This wasn’t the full truth. After sending you a few mocking texts after he posted that picture to his Instagram, Sid hadn’t texted you anything else. You weren’t sure if this would even provoke a response, but Jungkook was convinced. He sent the text and pulled you back onto the pillows despite your protests.

“I’m sure it’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “Until he texts you.”

Sure enough, he did.

Just as you lied down next to Jungkook, just as he intertwined your hands, his fingers toying with yours, just as you were about to forget your phone altogether—just then, the text finally came.

Your eyes widened, but Jungkook had the decency not to gloat. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you until the beating of your heart returned to a reasonable pace. Then he let you sit up again and reach for your phone.

Sid’s message read, “eager to talk to me now?:)” and you breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as you showed the text to Jungkook.

“Alright,” you said, content. You didn’t even need to respond to him anymore, he’d already started the next step of your plan. “Now we’re good to go.”

Jungkook, smiled, nodding and extending his hand to pat the bed. You lied back down and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to feel your skin against his again. His breathing was soft on your neck and you smiled back, finally losing yourself in the calming darkness of his room and the warmth of his touch.

For one blissful minute, you focused on his breathing and traced the edges of his tattoos, and felt as though nothing bad, nothing hurtful or upsetting had ever happened to either of you.

“Will we be okay, do you think?” you asked wearily. “Tomorrow.”

He was taken aback by the question, you could tell from the way his breathing increased, but his response was quick and certain.

“We’re already okay,” he said. “Today and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day—”

“I love you,” you interjected softly, successfully stopping him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I would have kept going.”

You grinned. “I know you would have.”

He snickered, pulling you closer until you nestled your face into his neck and rested your hands on his chest, tapping, every now and then, to the beat of his heart.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “For a few hours, at least.”

You leaned your head back enough to press a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips instead of replying.

Jungkook hummed and melted into you, easing his grip to give you some space to breathe, but still remaining attached to you like he was a part of you and you were a part of him.

He could have stayed with you like this, he thought, for the rest of his life. And for at least a hundred more lives after that.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “give”

prev ○ next (coming soon)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x you #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts au #jungkook au #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfiction #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au

[bleuside97]

Licking Your Wounds

paring: boxer!jk x fem!reader

genre: jealous boyfriend

summary: Jungkook wins his boxing match so y/n gives him his special prize.

warnings: smut, jungkook eats y/n out in his dressing room, cussing, he dominant ash, he smirks like 71682 times, JK is such a flirt, jungkook is a simp for y/n

The huge arena fills with a roar as the crowd goes wild for the one and only Jeon Jungkook. Worldview Champion with a legacy of being 19 times undefeated. Everyone loves him. The crowd cheers for Jungkook, another win, leaving his opponent on the floor of the ring. The referee blows his whistle and gestures with this hands the fight was over. He raises Jungkook's right arm above his head clearing victory. Triumph he looks to the crowd all giddy and coy. The winner smiles at the crowd giving a respectful bow to the crowd, referee, then to his opponent. Thanking him and sure to shake his hand in all respects.

He makes sure he was fine before walking out of the ring. Walking down the steps to his manager massaging his shoulders. Praising him for another win. He doesn't seem to care too much for the praise. But he was looking for you backstage. And there you were within the sidle lines waiting for him to praise him along with his team. Cheering him on he walks towards you. He smirked and turned your way, winking.

He wiped his bloody nose and the sweat dripped down his forehead. “That win was for you, y/n.” He panted out of breath. His team rushed to cool him off with a mini fan and towels wiping off the sweat of his body. He sits in a chair to rest himself after the match as the members tend to him. His mind unable to think straight. So much happening at once. His thoughts can't help but remain on the incident that happened earlier that day. Jungkook caught you speaking to another guy backstage. In his mind he thinks that guy was making a move on you. In reality, you guys were only talking about the success of your boyfriend. Unfocused eyes he scolds, "I'm still not happy because of that guy flirting with you." He cocks an eyebrow at you waiting for your answer.

"You're way too jealous for your own good." You chuckled, grabbing his cheeks and pressing a long kiss to his lips. Pulling away you take one of your hands to scrunch his sweaty shirtless pecs.

"And you're way too stunning to be on your own." He smirked out playfully, he bites his lip looking down at you. while you admiring my six-pack abs that he's been working hard on. He pushes his tongue to his inner cheek, cockily. Pulling you up, he wrapped my free arm around your body. "Come with me."

You take his free hand without hesitation. "Where are we going, Jk?" Y/n uses one of the many nicknames given to him, her favorite was Jk commonly used but sweet and meaningful to her lover.

"We are going to my dressing room, babe." He smirked back. Dragging y/n to his dressing room. Finally arriving in the room he makes sure she gets in first before he does, slamming the door behind him. His back aggressively hits the door then his hand. He closes his eyes shaking his head. Y/n only stands in front of him. Goggling at his bare chest, heave up and down. Her eyes make their way down to his big arms. Right arm filled with beautiful tattoos. While the other one is bare. Then his hands, his big vainy hands. She loves his fingers especially. She needs his fingers.

He notices your staring and pulls you closer towards him, caressing your sides while pulling you along, your faces only a few inches apart. "And I got ... reward for you." You mumbled out, smirking. "I suppose we got some celebrating to do, congrats on winning, I knew you could do it!" His wanting hands caressing you in all the right places. His sweat beading down the ends of his hair and forehead down to his abs. You watched the sweat drip all the way down to his chest. You happily smirked thinking of all the things you want him to do to her.

He couldn't control himself. The rush of the fight along with your looks made it hard to keep his hands to himself."How about some more .. celebration?" He mumbled out, smirking. Jungkook pushed your back against the wall, his lips on yours as he pressed up against you. Your back only ached for a few seconds consumed by the pleasure Jungkook was giving you.

Jungkook began to slip off your shirt. By the hem of it pulling it over your head. Discarding it somewhere on the couch. You bite your bottom lip as Jungkook takes off your clothes. Taking a moment to admire, his eyes locked with yours. He smirked and slowly began to kiss your neck. The feeling of him leaving mouth kisses all on your neck makes you feral. The room was filled with your giggles. The giggles were a sign for him to step it up. His pink lips, soft, but full, was kissing and sucking at your neck. "Don't leave a hickey this time." You demanded him, the last time Jungkook gave you a hickey was when Jungkook was meeting your parents for the first time.

Lucky enough your parents didn't see. Even though, you're a grown woman. It's still embarrassing when your parents know you're having sex.

"No promises." He grumbled out, smirking. Not caring if there's one or 6 hickeys on your neck. Continuing to kiss and suck the other side of your neck and shoulder. Taking a moment to glance at your neck, there was a hickey from last time. He chuckled. "That thing is still there?"

"You're joking." You pushed him off to touch the spot of where the long term hickey was. You went to the mirror that was in the dressing room, to find that the hickey. She sees the fresh marks Jungkook has just left on her. She rolls her eyes annoyed. He was only being a jerk off. The hickey he pointed out had faded.

Coming behind you in the mirror he rests his head on your shoulder pouting his lips, putting both hands on your sides squeezing them ever so slightly. "C'mon baby, you know I like them." His hands make their way to your thighs. Lightly brisking them. One hand slowly makes its way to your vagina. "Are you wearing underwear?" His cheek, slightly brushing against yours. A slight blush forming on your face while his eyes remain locked on yours through the mirror.

"What if I told you I'm not." You answer in all honesty.

"Just how I like it." He smirked back, his hand smacked your bottom before spinning you to face him. His head cocks towards the couch. He pushes your back to the seat of the couch. You watch him as you spread your legs just enough. His eyes stare at your full body with lust. Thinking of all the things he will do to you. His left hand grips your hip and his spare hand strokes down the inside of your thigh before it reaches your hot core. Waiting for Jungkook to make a move.

Your body shudders when he brushes your clit, the direct contact is not enough for you. He spreads your lips open playing with them. Eyes looking up to you then to your pussy he's studying you and your reaction. "You're so pretty." He kisses your clit. Your body is responding well and you seem to be aching for his mouth. Aching for him. That's all he ever wanted. The top of his warm tongue licks the top of your clit. He slowly begins to lick up and down across your clit, rolling the bud with his tongue a few times. He carefully bites down the bud. You react with you thrusting your hips to his face. He enjoys seeing you squirm under him. You moan out. Circling is tounge in you he begins to suck your clit earning another moan from you.

"Fuck, Jungkook." You let a shaky moan. Guiding his head with your hand in his long hair to where you want him. His ears and head filling with pride he can't help but smile. You feel Jungkook chuckle against you. "So good!" Like a vibration in your coochie, it sends you closer and closer to your climax. He continues to fuck you with his tounge in your hole and within seconds he has you squirting. You let out a relief breathe. "Shit." Your back arches. His lips return to yours in a hungry kiss. You can taste your juices on his tongue mixed with his saliva. Your body writhes beneath his, toes curling, teeth digging down on his shoulder in a failed attempt at keeping quiet.

"You taste so good baby..." He whispers out, still nibbling on your bottom lips. Both of your bodies are pressed tighter almost as if they fit perfectly together. He kept tasting your lips with his tongue before moving my lips over to your neck once again.

Eyes, still locked with yours, were filled with passion, love and lust. Knowing you wanted him just as much as you wanted you. Which made the moment much more intense. His bulge throbbed in desire. His fingertips continued to run across your hips.

"You know you're lucky I spoil you." He smirked out, looking into your eyes. Moving hair out of your face to behind your ear. His fingers running through your hair, his lips planted on your forehead, hands sliding down your back, teasing you with the clips of your bra. "He eventually unclips it. Seeing you sit so pretty for him has him hard. He massages your lower back, your legs wrap around his waist. "This good?" He mumbled out in question, still planting small kisses on your shoulder.

"What if someone catches us?" Y/n asks in a soft tone, almost as if you were unsure to speak up.

Eyes look at you. A stoic smirk creeps on his face. "They won't catch us. And if they do, let them watch. They'll just be jealous of this moment, that's all." While his hands slipped lower to the top of your hips. His fingers gently slide underneath. "You don't want me to stop, do you?" You shake your head no.

His eyebrows raise. "Then I won't stop. Not until you beg me to stop. But you have to use your words to stop me, princess."

authors note: hope you like this im honestly kind of proud of this one idek but it could have been better ig. Also, errors if you find any errors like 'my' don't mind it. So, as I said in my last post i'm going to start being more consistent. I'm thinking of posting at least 5 times a week just to start off. If you guys wanna request and talk to me go right ahead. I'm a nice person so feel free to hmu.. ☺️ And you can request me to write anything I won't judge trust me. Also, I'm down to collab with any writers so hmu.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts reaction #yandere bts #bts angst #bts army #boyfriend jungkook #imagines #boxing #romance #bts imagines #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader

[7ndipity]

When He Thinks You’re Gone

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: When You and Jk have a fight before he has to leave for promotions, he wants to assume that you can fix things when he returns. But what if your things are gone when he gets back?

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of reader being sick(nothing detailed tho)

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

Requests are open

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“Well if that’s how you feel, then maybe you should just stay at your own place!”

The final words he’d spoken to you last night kept rolling around in his head as he stared out the plane window, waiting for take off, guilt blooming heavily in his gut.

Fighting with you before having to leave for a week was not how he’d wanted your last night to go at all. He couldn’t even understand how things had escalated so suddenly; one minute you were telling him about your frustrations about him being gone so much recently, the next both of you were yelling and saying things you didn’t mean and he was storming off to the bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t have lost his temper the way he had, he was just stressed with the comeback and frustrated, feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, and your words had been the badly timed final straw.

By the time he’d returned to the bedroom, you were already asleep, or at least pretending to be, he didn’t check, laying down facing away from you and falling asleep without a word.

The next morning, he’d left early before you’d even woke up, choosing not to risk pushing things further on the way out.

Shaking his head at himself, he fished his phone out of his pocket, sending you a short text.

“I’m sorry about last night, we’ll talk when I get back. See you next week, I love you.”

Sighing, he sat back in his seat, not feeling any better.

Over the next few days, his sense of unease over the incident continued to grow, his only contact from you coming in the form of flat, often single worded texts. He knew you were still

upset with him, and he couldn’t blame you, but he knew the two of you could sort everything out when he got home. Just a few more hours to go…

It was quiet as he entered the apartment, most of the lights off other than a few lamps.

“Y/n?” He called gently as he sat his things down, Bam appearing from down the hall and bounding over happily to greet him

“Heya, buddy.” He said softly, kneeling to give the dog a few pats and scratches, still glancing around for any sign of you. “Where’s your other parent, huh?”

When he straightened back up, he headed for your shared bedroom, thinking that since it was kinda late, maybe you were already in bed. As he pushed the door open though, he felt his stomach drop as he scanned the space, finding no sign of you and realizing that your things were also no longer there.

Your charger on the nightstand, your clothes, even the fluffy throw blanket that you kept on your side of the bed were all missing.

“Well if that’s how you feel, then maybe you should just stay at your own place!”

The words echoed mockingly in his head as he stared around the suddenly sparse looking room. You wouldn’t have actually taken his stupid suggestion, would you? Without saying a word?

“Y/n?!” He called again, voice shaking.

“What?” His head whipped around at the muffled reply from the guest room across the hall.

Bolting across the landing, he pushed open the door to reveal a very tired looking you, curled into a ball in the bed, blinking back at the sudden light.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, I was so scared!” He moved forward, but you quickly raised a hand up to stop him.

“Stay away!”

“What?!” He froze, staring at you in confusion.

“I’m sick, the flu or something, and I don't want you to catch it, so please just stay away.” You croaked, pulling your shirt over the lower half of your face as a makeshift mask.

“I don’t care about the stupid flu!” He said, trying step closer, but you backed further across the bed. “Hold on.”

He ducked out of the room, coming back in less than a minute with a mask now covering his own face. “See? Now can I come closer?”

Reluctantly, you shrugged, which he took as an okay, coming over and carefully sitting down next you as he took in your appearance. You were pale, your eyes tired and heavy with dark circles under them, you looked like you hadn’t been eating well either.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked softly, feeling your forehead to check your temperature.

“You were busy.” You said stuffily, avoiding his eyes.

He frowned, not missing the lingering meaning behind your words, before getting up to make you some tea.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he noticed that the rest of the apartment seemed to be well looked after, despite your slightly fragile state, including Bam who was curled up next to you on the bed when Jungkook returned.

“Have you been the one taking him out for walks?” He asked, not able to imagine you keeping the massive dog reigned in in your current state.

You shook your head. “I called your usual service.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He said suddenly.

“For what?”

“Everything. For saying what I said last week, for not being here when you needed me. Just, everything.”

You dropped your gaze. “I should be the one apologizing, I was being stubborn.”

“I still shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He said.

You held your pinkie out. “Truce?”

He chuckled, having almost forgotten your old solution to arguments when you’d first started dating.

“Truce.” He hooked his finger with yours, holding it for a moment before tugging you forward into a hug.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your hair.

“I love you too.”

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, until he insisted on moving your things back to his room so he could look after you, helping you get a shower before ordering you both some food.

The whole evening, his eyes never left you for more than a minute, seeming thoughtful but not saying what about until you were tucked back into the bed next to him, on the verge of sleep.

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes flew open as you looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious, I hate the whole back and forth from your place to mine.” His eyes never left yours, fingers traced patterns over your arm as he spoke. “Coming home and not being able to find you was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt, I don’t wanna experience that ever again.

"So, please, move in with me?” He asked, pressing a small kiss to your hand.

“Okay.” You whispered, swallowing back tears at his sweet words.

“Thank you.” He smiled, pulling you close again, both of you quickly falling asleep in each others embrace.

#jungkook reaction #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts one shot #bts scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts angst #bts drabble #bts requests #bts fluff #bts fanfic #7ndipity

[aseaofyoongi]

my heart did | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: e2l | bully romance | smut | angst

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: as soon as senior years comes to an end a lot of teens shed who we were and strive to be flourish into a more polished version of themselves. although, broken hearts aren’t so quick to heal what happens when thoughts reveal all we need to know?

warnings: lets begin.. themes and mentions of bullying; brief physical violence; brief mention of blood; bickering; denial of feelings; mention of less than ideal parents; cliche high school themes (in flashbacks); foul language; oral (m. receiving); penetrative and unprotected sex; clitoral stimulation; nipple play; thigh riding; vag fingering; overstimulation; sub!jjk themes - he is a good boy; he uh.. arrives on her face.. anyways; i hate this trope ugh but miscommunication; jjk has a big d!; not edited.

word count: 25,5 thousand words

posted: wed sept. 6, 2023 at 12:28PM

notable songs: like i want you - giveon | thinkin bout you - frank ocean | like or like like - miniature tiger | war of hearts - ruelle | sunday morning - maroon5 🎧

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The sun is now setting. 

Behind you as the last hours of the late summer evening approached the sun was beginning to finally pucker its lips against the horizon, as a result, the sky became dusted with hints of deep orange, yellow and purple. The clock finally struck nine o’clock and you couldn’t help but slump down on the palms of your hands, sitting behind the main desk on the same stool you had been since the beginning of your shift. Your pupils followed as the little hands on the clock hung on the opposite wall seemed to move slower and slower, completely freezing you in time. 

Fucking Mondays. 

You sighed. When you had initially signed up for the work study position at the library you thought things would be just a bit different. 

For example, you thought being a staff member here would get you free access to course books and materials but that wasn’t the case. Right before you’d been hired, some idiot named Yoongi who worked behind the help desk at the computer lab was caught selling copies of the course materials to multiple students on campus. 

Like—right before you were hired and now that privilege had been swiped right off the tip of your fingers the moment your member badge had been printed. 

Secondly, time behind that rotating door at the main entrance just stopped. No, more like slammed down on the brakes abruptly the moment you crossed that threshold. There were no warnings or brake lights or even a bright sign to apprise in advance. 

Another drawn out sigh escaped your lips. 

There was no exaggeration in your boredom, however, besides the ‘promises’ of saving money on school materials vanishing entirely, you still needed the monetary earnings so you hid behind a fabricated smile and immediately accepted the job offer happily. 

Well, as happily as you could be. 

God, you were jaded. Five after nine. Only five minutes had gone by yet it felt like an eternity. 

Your mind was on overdrive yet your body remained stationed in the same exact place—in the same exact position. Not a single tendon transposed and they constricted your muscles in place. You were there sort of glued to the metal surface of the stool but fuck did you wanted to move. 

Needed to actually. You needed a sort of mobile stimulation but still you couldn’t seem to get your arms and legs to comply. Not until your focus circled around your extremities and your need to just fucking. . do something. 

You crossed your legs to the left, then to the right, then you hung your legs on the wooden bar under the desk to give them a rest from just hanging on your side, then you sat with your legs spread open before realizing you wore a skirt and you quickly pressed your thighs together tightly. Shift after shift you grew more angsty, more impatient, more exasperated with the sluggish speed the hours of the night adopted. 

Slowly, you reached into your bag and unwrapped a piece of gum before sticking it in your mouth. You chewed slowly. Seven after nine, only two minutes have gone by since you last looked at the time. 

Okay, maybe if you number your chews to the rhythm of each second then time will somehow speed by. Right? You began your countdown backwards from sixty. 

You chewed down on the watermelon flavored stick of gum. Sixty. 

Again, fifty-nine. 

And, again,  fifty-eight. 

Once more, fifty-seven. 

In just a matter of minutes the sky behind you turned pitch black and finally the stars came out to play, they pranced around dancing in the sparkling delight and you couldn’t really help but envy their freedom as they lived without confinement. 

“Tell me something. .” You quickly registered that irritating tone, that very familiar and insipid, absolutely annoying and vexing tone. The same one which sent a bubbling shot of acid to course into your bloodstream every time you were faced with the disdain of hearing it, “should I reprint you a copy of the employee manual? Last time I checked skirts above the knee and gum chewing are strictly prohibited in the work place.” 

You leaned your head to the side, narrowing your eyes in his direction as he stood by the doorframe, “you’re not the supervisor, let alone the manager,” you murmured through gritted teeth, “fuck off.” 

He shook his head slowly while clicking his tongue. He was mocking you, the little shit was mocking you, “Not a manager. Just someone who likes to enforce the rules especially comes to you.” 

“Rule enforcer?” you scoffed, chewing louder and louder as you chomped down, purposefully smacking your gum in the process, “sounds a lot like you being a little bitch. I guess it’s all just the same to me.” 

“Bitch?” he guffawed. 

“Yes, that’s what I said,” you challenged. 

“Mini skirt, gum chewing, and foul language. You’re really making this so easy for me,” he mocked. 

The extent of your interactions were always, always, reduced to this. Just the endless streaks of taunting, the continuity of poking at each other buttons beyond forgiveness, and to top it all of the boiling irritation cooking up in the pit of your stomach. 

As far back as you could remember there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in the mixture of your interactions together. 

You and him met the summer before the ninth grade. From there on you knew him once classes began. Well ‘knew’ was a very loose term in this situation. The two of you were just teens, fifteen years old to be exact, in the same school, in the same home room, yet from different cliques. 

His brown eyes drank you in like he was consuming every inch of your soul—it was invasive, intimidating, and exactly what you deserved. Deep down you were one hundred-percent sure of the fact. 

“What?” you barked. 

“Just remembering the good old time,” he smirked, “the ones where words remain your preferred and deadliest weapon.” 

What transpired from that night was nothing compared to his cold gaze and punctured words. 

Faint lights of that night sparkled into memory, years have passed but you remember every detail as if it was just yesterday. 

The school bathroom was your least favorite place in the building, it was usually crowded with destined criminals, the stench was horrid and it was the obvious root of every ridiculous rumor to ever be birthed within the walls of Oakwood High School. 

You leaned against the white ceramic sink, your back faced the stained plastic mirror as you faced him sitting on top of the toilet tank. He was the personification of trouble, the very synonym of everything you needed to stay away from. 

The two of you came from two different worlds. 

He was draped and wrapped up in a black hoodie, complemented by dark distressed jeans while his rugged and muddy boots stained found camp on the toilet seat, staining it beyond repair. 

“What exactly is it that you need from me?” he asked, his tone wasn’t as stern or deep as you usually heard around the halls. There was a slight stutter; a falter. 

“It’s more than one thing,” you exhaled, your eyes flickered between him and the stall just to the right of him, “. .that I need from you.” 

He hummed, “go on.” 

The sun trickled in through the foggy windows and it embellished very detail, every feature that you had never once before noticed on the boy before you. His eyes were giant orbs almost doe like, his lips were a deep taint of roseate the same one which dusted the apples of his cheeks. There was a certain delicate look behind the dark aura he cemented within himself. 

You took paced steps in his direction feeling just a bit dizzy the closer you became. 

Perhaps, it was that overbearing piss smell. 

Or, perhaps, you just didn’t want to go through with this. You wanted to call this off but there was this fervent exhilaration burning just below your skin—you wanted to continue speaking to him, you wanted to envelop yourself in the softness of his lips. 

But this wasn’t right but you couldn’t help the guidance of your feet, until finally you stood right before him. 

Up close his eyes were prettier, shinier yet darker and you easily found yourself swimming in them engulfed in vastness simulating the bottomless sea. 

He was everything you wanted and everything you needed to stay away from. 

Two different people. Two different worlds. 

“Are you going to tell me what you need?” 

“I think,” your palm landed on his knee for support as you climbed onto the toilet seat taking a seat on his lap, “it’s much better if I show you.” 

By now, and by the radicle of his reputation you expected for him to push you right off his life, for him to gargle the disgust in the back of his throat and regurgitate it right back on you. But he didn’t instead his gaze intently followed you every move, he probably already noticed your quivering figure hiding behind your confident facade. 

There was no shaking off this nervousness, even but in your mind you reminded yourself that you were you and he was simply him. 

“Show me what exactly?” he swallowed, his Adam's bobbed distinctively, “you know this is the first time you’ve ever uttered a single word in my direction.” 

“I highly doubt that,” you hid your nervousness behind the security of your confident tone. 

“It’s true,” he continued, “I bet you have never even noticed that my locker is directly across from yours.” 

“Wait. .” You hooked your bait, hanging it low over his head attempting to reel him in once and for all, “do you spend your time in the halls looking at me?” 

“I never said—“ 

Your palms found their way up to towards the back of his neck and you inched closer to his face vividly detailing the golden tone of his glowing skin. 

You never noticed before, he was always an arm’s length away, which was probably your fault to begin with, but he was truly beautiful. 

“You did kind of imply it.” 

“I don’t think it works that way.” 

“Does to me.” 

His eyes remained on your lips as you tucked your lower lip under your upper teeth.  There was an unreadable expression ignited behind his pupils, something you’ve never seen before, not behind the frigid gaze of your best friends and it certainly wasn’t present in the way your boyfriend looked at you either. 

It held the comfort of tenderness and it wrapped you right into his warm embrace. 

“You know, you keep averting my question.” 

“Remind me, once again,” you smiled softly, “what is it that you wanted to know.” 

“What do you want to show me?” you pursed out your lower lip before licking them agonizingly slowly to almost emphasize their plumpness. While coating them in a thin layer  of the sheen shininess from your saliva. That put him in a trance, his eyes were locked on you intently. It’s working. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered, your lips hovered right over his, the waft of your paced breath fanned one another. His mouth was enveloped with the cool aromatic scent of mint. You liked that a lot—it drew you in. 

He froze against the white tiled wall behind him, his eyes were closed and he waited in anticipation of your lips finally meeting his. Instead, you took the liberty of snapping a mental picture. One you knew you would hang in the forefront of your mind for a very very long time, because after today, after the tones of both of your pink lips finally meshed together everything would go to shit. 

And it would all be your fault. 

“For someone who’s begging to kiss me you sure are taking your sweet time.” 

The pads of your fingers brushed against his velvet lips as they spread wide depicting his smile, in turn you’d notice the way that very smile trickled to everyone of his features. From the dimples impaling his honey cheeks to his scrunched up nose and brows scrunched up together. 

“I’m not begging,” you objected, laying against his chest—he was broad you could tell even under the dark clothes and he felt firm. All you wanted was to be cocooned in his heated touch. 

Even in the scorching summer his warmth is.. a solace. You didn’t mind being consumed by it burning in the flames ignited by his touch. 

“I asked. Just curious to know if you would even want to kiss me,” say no, run away, run away from me, you yelled at him in your head. 

“Curious?” 

You hummed, “So.. Do you wanna?” 

“Kiss you?” 

You hummed again, “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. It’s just one kiss.” 

“Just a kiss?” He asks a lot of questions. 

“Okay,” he breathed. 

There were many things you forbid yourself from submitting to at the expense of your insatious desires. This included consuming sweets past eight o’clock, drinking any type of soda, and even suppressing anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in return for the validation of others. Deep behind the rhythmic beating of your heart you knew this should’ve also included kissing him. You knew you should’ve backed off, said no, avoided him as if he was something you ran away from. 

But you couldn’t help but be guided here by the pure delight of getting to have this for once. You wanted to be selfish and drown in those very desires you didn’t dare act on prior to today. Not under self-induced circumstances instead something you know could hurt him right after you pulled away from his lips. 

You were a wretched person but all you think about, all you cared about was the way he inched closer towards you, rapidly closing the gap between the two of you. The only sounds bouncing off the walls were your needy pants and the thump thump which composed a song out of the beats of both of your racing hearts. 

His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, his eyes explored every inch of your face taking in every depiction of your features. And no matter how many times you could attempt to hide it—he would know. He could clearly see the birth of the flames rampant behind the tones of your eyes. 

He nudged his nose against yours, and your mouths fell together, soft and open. You closed your eyes instantly and they felt heavy, almost as if your eyelids were glued together. Though, you urged to open them, to live in every single second your lips remained connected with his, because you knew this wasn’t likely to happen again. Not after today. Not ever. 

You couldn’t help but want to bear witness to the perfectness of your lips dancing against one another. 

His mouth was silken, you found yourself melting into his body, into his lips, into his touch. Nobody had ever kissed you with the unspoken one passion he was. 

No one. Certainly not your boyfriend. 

You allowed yourself to become drunk under his trance and he fed the butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach rapidly. 

You wanted to camp in the fondness of that moment forever, and ever. and ever. . . 

Vacating the stool you stood by the large windows facing the parking lot behind the library. However, your attention was clutched by the sparkling stars, it was a form of a distraction. You wanted to stop thinking of him, his gaze seizing your figure tracing the outline of your legs, the curves and dips between your hips and waist and finally the sneaky peaks of your collar bones under your crop top. 

His eyes were hard to read making it impossible to decipher whether he undressed you or condemned your being.  

Though, you knew you deserved the latter. 

“Words were never my weapon,” you whispered the fib hoping that you would believe it if you heard it outloud. It didn’t work. 

He chuckled, “right. . your lips were the blades that pierced my heart and your words were the bullets that finished me off.”

“Jungkook. .” you trailed off. 

“What?” he spat, “can’t handle the truth?” 

Fuck, that hurt but you deserved it.  

“Jungkook, just shut up.” 

But his back was already turned towards you and his eyes no longer scanned you like you were the phrases typed on the pages of his favorite book. 

“I’m so. .” you began but you just couldn’t get it out. 

“There it is again,” Jungkook shook his head, clicking his tongue. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, collecting your thoughts why did you always manage to say the wrong fucking thing, “I’m just trying to apologize to you for. . everything.” 

“Right. . now?” he wore a puzzled expression, his eyes squinted with skepticism. Back in highschool Jungkok was quiet, shy and mysterious. He could’ve easily flown under the radar and lived his life in the seclusion of being a wallflower. But then you happened. You in that bathroom, on his lap with his lips on yours. 

Even now, years later, you could still feel their phantom softness on yours. 

You played with the loose thread on the hem of your top averting the scrutiny of the judgment in his eyes, “better late than never.” 

“You put me through hell and I’m supposed to act as if all is forgiven. Today, because you can no longer live with that guilt?” there was a smirk plastered on his face while traces of venom laced his words. 

“That’s not the reason why…” 

“Then, why… Why?” 

Words failed to roll off the tip of your tongue, and there was a cloud of shame hanging over your head but Jungkook was resentful and cold with his words and you knew that at this point your apology would do nothing to fix what was already broken. Nevertheless, you stood there like a child being scolded because the least you could do was be the receiver of his resentment. 

“Are you looking for a shot at self redemption? To feel better about yourself? Or maybe the guilt really is eating you bit by bit. Whatever it may be I don’t forgive you and I never will. You wanna know why? Because unlike others I’m not convinced that people like you can change,” he continued, there was a rampant anger burning in his eyes now, “you look back on our time in high school and feel this sense of. . relief that you were who you were. There is not an ounce of your being that would go back and change things and if we were to turn back time you would still choose to be the viper who could go around injecting your venom into others at free will. I know you just want to leap over that stepping stone and prove to yourself that you have grown-up but you can’t fool me and you will not make an example out of me.” 

“That’s not. .” you drifted off, tears swelled behind your eyelids but you blinked them away, “That’s not why I wanted to do Jungkook. .” 

“No?” he asked. 

“No,” you muttered through gritted teeth, mad at your past self for being a piece of shit, mad at him for not allowing you to speak, mad at life. Everything. 

“You want me to forgive you?” 

You remained quiet. 

“Then, beg.” 

“You know what?” You quickly wiped the tear that trickled down your heated cheek, “I actually did mean to apologize but I’m not sure that you actually deserve it anymore.” 

They say what comes around goes around and you were certain this was the circle of justice you would forever be looped in the extent of your interactions with Jungkook because, this is pretty much how they always played out.  He would never forgive you and you would never be able to form the right words to ease the pain of what you have caused. There wasn’t anything that you could do or say. 

Things would always remain this way. 

He turned away from you once again, “if I don’t deserve your apology that only proves you don’t deserve my forgiveness.” 

You looked at the clock on the opposite wall, it was now finally thirty minutes past nine and you were due to go home. To be embraced by the comfort of your sheets, to bask in their warmth, something less chilling than his frigid words. 

Grabbing your bag you slipped past him hoping that you would now stoop to becoming nothing but an insipid wallflower. 

Entirely, invisible. That’s all you wanted to be. 

Fucking invisible. 

Your cloak of invisibility was short lived because as soon as you crossed the threshold to your dorm you were met with a crowded living room. Amongst the faceless features of the random strangers spread out in the tiny space you spotted a similar face belonging to the biggest pain in your ass and roommate adjacent, Hobi. 

You trudge through the ocean of bodies, resisting the sway of the waves leading to bump to those in your way, simply wanting to get as far away from whatever this was as soon as possible. When Hobi’s eyes finally met yours you signaled him towards using your pointer finger—quickly, his smile dropped, beads of sweat adorned his temples and his head hung low. 

A party on a Monday was… Definitely, Hobiesque. 

With paced strides he stumbled towards you following you down the small corridor and into your room. Hobi’s eyes hung low, the buttons on his shirt hung open all the way down to the pit of his stomach, his cheeks were red and puffy, his hair the right amount of disheveled, and he had a tight grasp on a nearly empty red solo cup (it definitely didn’t look like it was his first or last drink). The  lights were dimmed but even under the shitty lighting there was a bright glimmer outlining his figure. 

“Now, before we begin this intervention,” his words were a bit slurred, “I had a really shitty day.” 

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you hung your bag on the hook behind the door and threw your keys on the desk. 

He slumped down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression—you weren’t sure if the shift in his usual energetic charisma was due to the alcohol but you didn’t like it. You were so used to seeing his heart shaped lips spread into wide curves showcasing the amiability of his colorful personality. 

“Okay, which one of us should go first?” he asked. 

“Don’t you have a party to get back to?” you sat by the pillows on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard, your legs pressed up against your chest as you laid your head on your knees. 

“I’ll get back in a minute,” he replied nonchalantly, “just tell me about your day.” 

Hobi laid his head closer to your legs, quickly you found your fingers combing through the dark strands with a thin layer of sweat. There was a cool draft slipping in the room through the window left slightly ajar. The bittersweet flashes of your time in that library behind the main desk played back in your mind. 

“I saw… spoke to Jungkook tonight,” your voice was soft, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. You and Hobi have been friends since your senior year in school and while he wasn’t there for the horrid days of your freshman year tyranny you confessed to everything you had done during those dark days—everything that happened with Jungkook. 

“Spoke?” 

You nodded. 

“You two have the same work study you’ve spoken to each other before right?” 

“Yeah, but our conversations are always reduced to nonsensical banter. He pushes my buttons and I push his, sometimes we even land a few jabs at each other when the other isn’t looking but today,” you felt at ease sitting there in Hobi’s company, the only noise surrounding the two of you came from the booming of the loudspeaker stationed in the living room, “…it was personal.”

“How personal?” he continued peering up at you with idle eyes. 

“I tried to apologize for, well you know.. everything,” you sighed, “and things didn’t really go as planned. Stupid of me I know.” 

“Definitely, not stupid. You tried to make things right. There’s no harm in that,” his thumb rubbed your hand softly as it wrapped around your shins. 

“There was definitely a lot of harm done.” 

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “what you did is not justified, but all that matters is that you are trying to make things right and we can only hope he is willing to forgive.” 

Jungkook’s vicious words played on a continuous loop in your head. He was not willing to forgive. He never would be and sincerely you couldn’t blame him for him. 

This guilt. 

It will eat you alive and as a result you will experience a slow and excruciating death. A well deserved demise and one that became written in the stars for you the moment you kissed him in that fucking bathroom. 

Still, a timid smile slowly creeped on your lips. Hobi’s hopefulness is your safety net, the only thing you could ever need to keep pushing forward. 

“Enough about me and my self-inflicted issues,” you cleared your throat, “what’s got you so down today, sunshine?” 

“We broke up.” 

You laid beside him on your bed, reaching down taking his hands into yours hoping he’d feel the same deal of comfort you do by him. 

“What happened?” you offered. 

“I was in my dance practice and he—“ he paused, “he just fucking texted me. Said he couldn’t do it anymore.”  

“Did something happen before all of this?” 

“We’ve been on a bumpy road lately,” he hesitated before continuing—you guessed it was because he was trying to structure his thoughts, “two dancers dating bring a conflict of interest into a relationship.” 

“Please tell me you guys aren’t just fighting over your choreography.” 

He remained silent before continuing. 

“You two are going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you shook your head, “I need details, Jung.” 

“Don’t call me, Jung,” Hobi poked out his lower lip, frowning, “makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” 

“I can’t be mad at you when you’re so adorably tipsy,” you pinched his rosey cheeks.

“Stoooop,” he swatted your hand away from his face while stretching out the letter ‘O,’ “I’m being serious though. I think it’s really over between Jimin and I, forreal this time.”

“You’ve said that every other time the two of you have broken up over dance.” 

“Right. .” he yawned, cozying up under your sheets while his eyes began to close. 

“Oh, no,” you smacked him upside the head with one of your cushions, “get up and go host your little party.” 

He brushed it off turning before turning away from you, his soft snores now a remix to the music playing just outside of your door, “who the fuck throws a party on a Monday. . Hoseok, get up!” 

“I know, you’re so irresponsible for letting me throw a party on a weekday.” 

“Bitch.” 

As it turns out, kicking people an hour after a party had started wasn’t as easy as it looked. Leaning against the front door you finally came face to face with the mess left behind. The music still played, though, much lower now and there was an array of empty beer cans, red solo cups and other waste decorating your living room. 

It was as if you were standing in front of the mirror looking back at yourself, you were nothing but a mess of a human being. It was uncanny. 

Although, this mess you could clean, and you would, you weren’t sure if Jungkook would ever allow you to pick up all of those broken pieces that you had shattered all of those years ago. 

For what it’s worth you really wanted to try. You wanted to make things right. 

It is now Tuesday and the weather is horrid. 

The last time you checked, the forecast called for scattered showers and mostly cloudy days. But, now it’s one in the afternoon and as you settle down on the bench by your bay window overlooking the narrow street, the sky was overtaken by the torrent clouds weeping viciously accompanied by the occasional strikes of loud thunder. 

Usually, when the weather looked as shitty as you felt you opted for staying home and becoming enveloped in the comfort and warmth of your sheets, today would have been no different but of course luck is never present in the deck of cards paving your life, also having an irresponsible roommate usually doesn’t help in any way.

“Please, don’t forget my ginger ale,” he coughed dramatically, running his hand through his disheveled hair, “I can’t believe I feel like literal shit.”

“You can’t believe it?” You sneered, “you drank half of your alcohol supply before I even made it home and the party had only been on for like thirty minutes.”

“Fuck, I did that. Didn’t I?” 

“You did,” you playfully yanked your covers off his body, “you drunk fuck.” 

“That was my nickname in highschool,” he smiled. 

“It was,” you zipped up your rain jacket and grabbed the umbrella sitting on your desk, “now go take a hot bath and don’t throw any more parties while I’m gone.” 

You heard his infectious giggles as you closed the front door behind you. The two of you lived on the third floor so the walk down the stairs to the lobby wasn’t too unbearable. Through the clear doors of the main entrance in the rain you saw how the downpour fogged up the path ahead. Namseok’s Kitchen is only a five minute walk, you can do this. 

Walking out you opened your umbrella and stood still for just one minute paralized by the pitter patter of the droplets meeting your umbrella. 

It was the beat to a dreadful song you knew too well. 

You pushed past the blue metal doors of the gymnasium. Your nostrils are no longer consumed by the smell of sweat and dirty laundry and the muffled conjunction of laughter, voices, bouncing balls, and whistles died out the minute the door closed behind you. 

Gym class was a drag and there was truly nothing worse than an hour long class period with sweaty kids in such a tiny space. Usually, you opted for walking on the track for the duration of class but that option became futile the moment it began to pour an hour ago. 

In fact it was still raining, but you stood under the navy awning covering you from becoming soaked. Your eyes are closed and you lean against the red brick wall inhaling the scent of petrichor, the resulting smell of the parched earth just as the pouring rain continues to beat anything standing right below it. The sweet aromas seeped into the air sweeping past your nose with the soft breeze that blew by. 

It was as if the earth had exhaled, emanating its distinct fragrance from millions of pinpoints all at once. Inside that smell, the seconds slowed and each moment seemed to dilute. It filled you with relief.  

Then, suddenly the remnants of your heaven became blurred and the walls holding up the roofs began to tumble down and with it a whiff of nicotine became tangled in your nose. 

Your eyes shot open and there he was, Jungkook. The boy you’d kissed a week ago in the boy’s bathroom. 

“Cigarettes are bad for you, you know..” You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach as soon as he turned. You heard what happened to him but you hadn’t gotten around to seeing him yet, you’d been avoiding him. 

“Yeah, I keep thinking I’ll quit and I can’t seem to make it past a couple of hours,” he was honest and he smiled, two characteristics you thought had died the moment your boyfriend’s fist met his face. He still had a soft purple bruise under his eye to prove it. 

“You need something else to get your mind off of it.” 

He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out and leaned right beside you on the wall. Up close you saw a deep gash on the apples of his cheek, it was still red but stitched up. 

“I know.” 

“Are you really littering right now?” You eyed the discarded smoke under the tip of his chunky combat boots.

“Right, sorry miss president of ‘i love earth’ or whatever,” he bent over, picking it up and placing it in the pocket of black jeans, similar to the ones he wore that day minus the rips around the thighs. 

“It’s actually called, ‘advocates for planet earth’ for your information.” 

“I love earth sounds better,” he shrugged, “should consider the name change.”

“I’ll bring it up in our next meeting.” 

“I’m surprised,” Jungkook began, his eyebrows furrowed together and you could tell he was in a mental battle to continue, “that he lets you join cute little nerdy clubs.” 

Twenty minutes before you entered the boys bathroom last Thursday, you and your friends sat in the library during study hall, your homework long forgotten and with continued complaints of loud talking all of you had settled for a game of quiet dare or die. 

The set-up was easy. 

There were two piles out in-front of you, one die, one dare. The object of the game created by your friends was to choose a dare and record yourself completing it before the end of the school day or else you’d have to do something even more embarrassing from the die pile. 

Your dare was to graffiti the side of the school. A bit excessive, compared to the other ones which only called for kissing each other, going against school dress code for the rest of the day or skipping the last period. 

Ditching the crumpled up paper you chose a die deciding that whatever it was at least it probably wouldn’t come at the expense of being expelled. 

‘Kiss Jeon Jungkook (loser)’ it read. 

You could’ve said no but you didn’t. Instead you fed into the taunts of the very boy you’d find your eyes lingering after. The same boy who occupied your thoughts day and night, the same one who kissed you like no one else has and whose touch (though, brief)—permanently marked a trail of goosebumps only he could procure. 

“He doesn’t control me, Jungkook.” 

“He doesn’t,” Jungkook nodded, registering every gravity of your words which felt heavy on his tongue. If your boyfriend didn’t control you then that meant you had also dealt a hand at the countinuously fucked-up encounters between him and your boyfriend. But this also finally cemented the idea that you had kissed him willingly; you saw it in the way his eyes sparkled even when the sun had been hibernating for the duration of the day. 

He seemed to have finally realized that both of those could be true. That love and pain could dance together hand in hand when it came to the two of you. 

Your eyes scanned his chocolate ones, slowly reaching up using the pads of your finger to caress his cheek. They were full and warm and you were careful not to inch too close to the purple and green-ish spot under his eye. 

“Will you believe me if I tell you something?”

“Tell me.” 

“I really did enjoy that day.” You clarified, “our kiss despite what I said afterwards.” 

He chuckled, “hopefully saying me too doesn’t get me another black eye.” 

The tightness in your chest squeezed tighter and immediately you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When Jungkook was around you felt as if your heart and mind collided against each other and you were left in a daze, castaway in your own body and mind. Like, right now, your brain urged you to walk away and get as far away as possible from him but your heart called out to him and down that same path it set out a route leading to his silken lips. 

Your heart beat to a deep crescendo nearly synching to the sound of the beating rain against the awning just overhead. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to class?” 

Snapping out of your daydream you replied, “uh, yeah, I should get back.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll see you around.” 

Jungkook smiled, “I’ll see you around.” 

The hefty winds blew your umbrella yet you remained in the same exact spot just a couple of feet away from the entrance to the dorm building. You were drenched from head to toe causing your gray sweats and hoodie to stick to you all while they weighed you down. Although you were inclined to move away from the droplets adorning your figure, your legs just would not submit to the command. 

The smell, the dark skies, and the feeling of the rain on your skin all ignited a sense of familiarity, contentment yet melancholiness. 

There were too many feelings jumbled into one. 

“If you stand here, like this, you’ll end up sick.”

You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed until the moment his voice overshadowed the roaring screams of the pouring rain. Jungkook’s outfit mimicked yours slightly but even you could admit he looked much better than you. He wore gray sweats and a gray hoodie draped off his shoulder over a white wife beater. His tattoos peeked through outlining the beginning of the sleeve following the length of his extremity down to his fingers. 

He’s breathtaking, he’s always been. 

“I wasn’t aware that my well-being was any of your concern.” 

Jungkook combed his slender digits through his jet black hair inching closer to you until his umbrella covered the both of you, “it doesn’t,” he said, “ I just figured you were either drunk or too much of an idiot to be out in this storm.” 

“Well, in that case that makes us two idiots standing out in this weather.” 

“I was not out. I’m not crazy,” he cleared his throat, “I just so happen to see you through my dorm window.” 

He came down for you, “yet here you are now.”

“Need I remind you, if I wasn’t, you’d still be out here getting soaked.” 

“Soaked,” you snickered.

“Grow up,” his voice was laced with annoyance but the rose tint on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know. 

“Where did my umbrella even go?” 

He pointed to your feet where your Converse swam in a puddle and there was your unbrella was looking as fucked up as ever. Immediately, you made a mental note to never buy umbrellas at the dollar store ever again. You supposed that’s the only thing you were good at; making one wrong decision after the other. 

You huffed, “ah, I’m okay. It’s okay, I got it from here.”

“Were you going somewhere?” 

“You don’t have to help me, Jungkook,” you didn’t dare look at him because Jungkook was good at one thing, it was peeling back at your layers with his piercing eyes. He made you feel vulnerable—bare. And you always feared the psychedelic enchantment wiring in your brain whenever he looked in your direction. 

Back then that was your excuse for not helping him, for not being a better human being. It was a shitty excuse, you know that now but you always feared your willingness to succumb to your hearts’ cries. 

You feared falling into him—falling for him. 

“Ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed, “just lead the way. I have nothing better to do anyway.” 

“I was just going down the street to Namseok’s Kitchen to get Hobi some chicken noodle soup. He isn’t feeling too well this morning.” 

“That’s only a five minute walk,” he nodded toward the path ahead, “Let’s go.” 

Five minutes felt like an eternity as the two of you walked towards your destination in utter silence. The street was pretty empty—only Jungkook, yourself and the rain remained. . And your thoughts, of course. They ran at record speed as you tried to relive every single moment from your past, you know; divulging in all the good times and wanting to fix every fucked up thing you’ve ever done. 

If only you could turn back time you’d make things right. 

In an attempt to skip another puddle, to prevent your socks from becoming sodden you accidentally moved closer to Jungkook and your elbow brushed against his. The feeling wasn’t foreign to you and it transported you to those nights, all of those moment when your bodies were so close you could smell the soap he’d used that morning, cardamom and vanilla, the scent still lingered around in your nose and you wondered if you were just hallucinating or if he actually still used the same soap. 

“While you order I’ll get us something hot,” he walked you to the glass door of the small diner, then turned towards the coffee shop across the street. 

“Jungkook!” You called out and he looked back in your direction, “Hold on,” you dug in your pocket reaching for a ten dollar bill, “Here.” 

“Just worry about the soup and get one for yourself. Your body will thank you tomorrow morning,” he shouted back. 

He disappeared into the shop as cars sped by in his shadow. You almost didn’t believe he was just right there. With you. Was he?

The bell on top of the door chimed as you walked into the restaurant, the squishing sound of your drenched shoes against the white tile bounced off of the baby blue walls. As you walked closer to the counter you wrapped yourself in a tight embrace to provide yourself with some warmth against the blasted AC. The place has always been light on decoration and made to feel more homey than anything else. There was a faux wall with photographs of customers hanging from loose thread, next to that there was a small circular table where the polaroid and its film was stationed. The remaining walls held all sorts of artworks in different shades of azure from Seokjin’s boyfriend, and Hobi’s brother, Namjoon. Towards the front was your favorite place, a bench stationed in-front of the floor to ceiling glass window. 

Namjoon approached the register, “oh no, what the fuck did he do now?” 

“He threw a party and woke up sick as fuck. I was just coming to get him some soup. He’s said he would puke anything else.” 

“And that little shit made you walk?” Seokjin walked up behind Joon taking a seat on the stool beside him. “Look at you…” he motioned towards you and you took a look at yourself in the circular mirror hung behind the two guys, a fucking mess, “you’re all wet. Did he make you come here alone?”

Before you even had the chance to answer Jinnie continued, “I’m going to kill him. You hear me?” He turned towards his boyfriend, “I am going to kill your brother.” 

Joon mumbled, “I might just join you.” 

“Before your two go on a killing spree…” you leaned against the wooden surface of the counter, “I kind of offered because I felt bad for his dumbass.”

“He still let you come all the way down here in this weather and that is enough to plan a crime,” Seokjin hissed, “Joonie will you get her a towel from the back?” 

Joon disappeared behind the beaded curtain. 

“Okay, so one soup for the idiot and one for you?” 

You nodded, “yes, chicken noodle soup please. Can you make that three though?”

“Who’s the third one for?” He raised an eyebrow staring you down like you had an intimate secret you were keeping from him. Well, technically, you were keeping some things to yourself but you weren’t lying just withholding the truth. It wasn’t the same thing. 

“It’s for the person who accompanied me here today.” 

“And who is that?” Joon asked, they were both overprotective, like older brothers, “you only have one friend and unfortunately I am related to him.” 

“Not a friend. . Just someone I know.” 

They hummed in unison exchanging suspecting looks between one another. Then, the bell on top of the door chimed once again, the same way it did when you walked in. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, his scent gave him away immediately. 

“Hi, welcome to Namseok’s kitchen,” Jin greeted him. 

“Hey,” he walked deeper into the restaurant until he finally stood right next to you as you continued drying off, “here. I got us lemongrass tea. I didn’t know what you like so I figured I get you the same as me.” 

Grabbing the to-go cup from his hand, you reply, “yeah, I like lemongrass tea.” 

You took a sip, basking in the heat of the piping hot liquid as it traveled down your throat and into your tummy. A tired whimper escaped your lips,  as you became entirely immersed in the flavors of the lemony taste exploding on your tongue. There was silence around you but you could feel three sets of eyes on you and instantaneously your eyes shot open. 

“I almost forgot Jin, Joon, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Jin and Joon, Hobi’s brother and brother in law.”

“Nice to meet you.” 

“You, too,” Jinnie smiled in his direction and Joon followed suit, “Jungkook..” He repeated, “why does your name sound so familiar?” 

“I went to highschool with Hobi and..” he pointed at you, avoiding even the utterances of your name. There was no disgust lingering in his face but then again his expression was unreadable and you were sure he was masking his true feelings at the expense of the two men in front of you. 

“I knew it,” he clasped his hands together but as soon as you saw the thoughts wiring in his head and connecting together you shook your head to prevent him from continuing. Thankfully, he understood immediately, “yeah, I thought I had seen you before.” 

Jungkook also connected the dots because Jin hadn’t been in high school at the same time he was. Jinnie was three years older than you guys were and by the time he and Hobi had moved into town Seokjin had already graduated. But he was now aware that you had mentioned him in passing—now he knew that you had to have mentioned something about that time. 

“I’m going to go check on those soups,” Jin announced walking back towards the kitchen, “Joon, come on join me.”  

You walked past Jungkook with the brown cup held tightly in your grasp before taking a seat on the bench by the front window. The storm still ran rampant outside and the streets remained barren. Jungkook sat two tables down, near the wall, far away from you. 

“Do I owe you anything for the tea?” You mumbled holding up the cup in his direction. 

“I told you to not worry about it..” 

“I didn’t know Seokjin would bring that up,” you didn’t look at him, eyes lulled by your dusty white converse, “I didn’t know he would remember you.” 

“Just forget about it,” he shook his head, “you don’t need to explain.”

“No, I feel like I do.” 

“You don’t.” 

“Jungkook, please let me,” your eyes watered and your voice faltered. 

He sighed, taking a small sip of the tea before continuing, “please don’t explain. I don’t need an explanation. I have buried it all, it still lives in my head but it’s buried and I don’t need to resurrect the tsunami of emotions that comes along with that..” he pointed at his temples, “it’s still here but please do not awaken them. I don’t want to brush the brush off of those memories.” 

You two were the only people in the shop but you knew Joon and Jin were behind one of the walls eavesdropping. It was silent and the only noise in the small space was the whirring of the AC. 

“Are our good memories also buried somewhere?” You knew better than to ask but you needed to know. 

“I put those to rest first,” he admitted and your heart sank, “those memories, although good, were an incitement to everything else that lingered right behind. I had to get rid of those memories to get rid of everything else.” 

“Okay,” tears were beginning to swell up in the corners of your eyes and you tried your best to blink them away, “yeah, that’s okay. I understand why you had to do that.” 

“I’m sorr—” Jungkook began. 

“Don’t, please, you’re not the one who should be apologizing to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you do that.” 

The bell at the front desk chimed, ripping your attention away from Jungkook. Seokjin stood behind the counter holding two paper bags, “order’s up.”  

Walking up you thanked him and grabbed the bags, “thanks. I’ll have Hobi venmo you for this.” 

“Don’t even worry about it,” he smiled softly, “free lunches till you guys graduate remember. That goes for you too now, Jungkook.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to,” he handed him the smaller bag, “I mean it. I better see you around here more often.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen him wear in years. It was radiant and lit up his face with warmth. The indents on his cheek were deep and they framed his rose lips like they were a work of art. Not even the silver hoop piercing his bottom lip shone as brightly as he did when he smiled. You almost forgot how good it looked on him and you couldn’t help but stand there and admire him taking mental pictures to keep forever. 

He deserves someone better. Someone who’s going to make him smile like that until the end of time. Someone who wasn’t you.  

“And thank you for coming along with her since Hobi couldn’t.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I would offer you guys a ride back home but Jin and I walked to work today. Guess we didn’t really think things through either.” 

“It’s okay, Joon,” you zipped up your rain coat and pulled the hood over your head, “it’s only a five minute walk back.” 

After thanking Jin and Joon, the two of you exited the store and cut in through the alley way before landing on the road leading back to the dorms. Once again, the two of you stood dangerously close to one another radiating off each other’s body heat and before you knew it the building came into view and Jungkook led you up the walkway leading you to the main door. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want him to leave you but it’s not like you could actually say that. 

You were a mere burden jumbled into bad memories and the worst years of his life.

“Thank you for coming along,” you pushed the thoughts although you don’t think you could ever really get rid of them. 

“No thanks needed. I couldn’t let you take the trip on your own, especially not in this weather.” 

He couldn’t let you. Your heart began to race as you tried to keep yourself from reading too much into his words. They probably didn’t mean anything… But what if he still cared? What if Jungkook still cared about you? 

“See you around.” He nodded before heading off in the direction of his dorm. 

I shouldn’t have said anything.

You turned around, but Jungkook was no longer near. His back was turned in your direction as he continued trotting down the sidewalk. Great! Now you’re hearing voices, after reaching for the metal door handle the voices reappeared. 

 Our memories are flavored in bitterness but I still can’t get her off my mind.

Jungkook was gone. 

The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfires and no matter how hard you work to extinguish that fire it is always too little too late. That’s how you felt as soon as you crossed the threshold from the bathroom and into the congested hallways. Everyones prying eyes read you so intently condemning you for the hypocrisy of allowing someone like Jungkook to permanently ink his lips on yours. The passionate dance the two of you composed left behind the imprints of his lips as he tattooed your skin with each one of the pecks he left behind.  

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out, unlocking it, quickly seeing the photo your friend had snuck of you on his lap pop up. Your mouths devour one another and your bodies pressed together closely while your hand rests on his shoulder. 

You wanted to frame it—live in the pixels of that picture forever. 

‘Death complete bitch.’ Your best friend’s text read below the photo, ‘I can’t believe you actually kissed him.’

‘I can’t believe I did it either.” 

‘What was it like?’

The worst part about it is that it had to come to an end. Your mind traveled an hour back and you recall the velvet feel of his lips as they moved against yours mimicking the softness of clouds. At the sametime his tongue was saccharine tasting of the sweetness of strawberries and maple syrup leading  you to guess he had either waffles or pancakes for breakfast that morning. 

All you wanted was to run back into that bathroom. 

‘Nothing memorable. Just glad it’s over.’ 

‘Don’t worry you won’t ever have to kiss him again.’

Yeah, that was the fucking problem. You wanted to kiss him again, preferably you wanted to kiss him forever. 

‘Yeah, thankfully.’ 

You didn’t know when that kill switch that made you a complete and utter bitch was flipped on, but all you remember were those calamitous days when you didn’t really know who you were and who you were meant to be. Those days were marked with pen squiggles, they were blurred and you chose to permanently turn the light off and lock the door behind you in that section of your brain. 

Middle school was rough to say the least. But that was the beginning of your novel and you knew perfectly well who you were now. 

You had the friends you did because they made you look good, you had the clothes you did because you had a reputation to uphold and you had the boyfriend you did because someone like you is supposed to be with someone like him. Those were the simple unspoken rules of high school and at first they  were easy to follow until they weren’t. 

Everything was simple until that summer before freshman year. The day you visited the park near your house and you spotted him, with his chunky black boots and signature black outfit matching his jet black hair. The two of you were only fifteen then but he already had a tattoo on his wrist peeking out of the sleeve of his crewneck, back then he didn’t have his lip piercing—not yet at least. 

“I thought you only hung out in abandoned buildings and sketchy alley ways,” you remembered telling him that and the two of you spent hours on those swings talking the afternoon away. Back then, you learned Jungkook was a gentle giant disguised in an intimidating disguise. He was thoughtful in the way he looked at life and dreamt about the future, he was caring in the way that he spoke about nature, tattoos, music and everything else he held a deep passion for and lastly, he was attentive in the way he listened to you thoroughly drinking in every detail you had shared.

That was the Jungkook that made you fall for him in the blink of an eye but back then you didn’t know who he was and you were certainly not made aware of how things would end up. 

 The bell dismissing you from your last period class snapped you right out of your thoughts and you dashed out the door of the classroom wanting nothing more than to escape home and be left alone to bask in your thoughts. 

“There’s a fight outside!” a few students called out running past you. 

“Let’s go!” someone else yelled across the hallway. 

You were nervous to ask but you did anyway, “fight? Who’s fighting?”

“Your boyfriend’s fighting someone,” a girl you didn’t quite recognize replied, “Jungkook, or something like that I think.”

By the time you made it to the parking lot there was already a crowd of people forming a circle around both boys. Jungkook held his bloody nose while your boyfriend clenched and unclenched his hand, likely to relieve the pain of hitting Jungkook. You ran in their direction but as you neared them you saw as the boy you called yours landed another punch on Jungkook’s face causing him to fall back on the concrete. 

He didn’t fight back, didn’t even respond to the other boy’s insult. He just sat on the ground holding his face waiting for it all to be over. 

“Hey,” you finally reached him, shoving him back to prevent another callous attack on the boy behind you, “what the fuck are you doing?” 

“I saw the fucking picture,” he muttered through gritted teeth. 

“The girls and I played a game of dare or death,” you explained, “it was only part of the death I had to complete. It didn’t mean anything.”

He lunged towards you and poked at your chest, “you still kissed him.” 

The crowd went silent and your boyfriend’s anger highlighted the very thing you’d intended to place under lock and key—your pretty little secret no longer a secret or even pretty for that matter. You felt light headed and you weren’t sure if it was the punishing rays of the sun or the mental strain this was all causing. 

You didn’t regret that kiss; you never would but you also thought that picture would stay between you and your friends.

A wave of murmurs swayed all around you and you knew your reputation was descending by the second. 

You didn’t dare look at Jungkook, you knew his hypnotizing dark eyes would make you crumble. Seeing him like that. . The way he did all helpless and unprotected would compel you to care for him and cradle him in your arms until nothing or no one else could hurt him, “It meant nothing. Okay?” You heaved, “It meant nothing.” 

Instead, you were dragged away from the boy your heart screamed out for. 

Fuck, do I still like her?

Just shut up, Jungkook. It’s too early for this. 

I shouldn’t be asking myself that. Ever. 

Presently, you’ve gotten to know Jungkook for being reserved and fairly quiet, similar to how he was in high school except back then he actually spoke to you. But now, he is quiet and he doesn’t bother uttering a single word in your direction. The only times he ever addresses you is when he throws continuous jabs at you, landing every single one—he spews spiteful words of retaliation as a result of the shitty person were years ago and although you knew it was well-deserved that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Unlike his recently reserved outer shell, you quickly learned Jungkook’s mind traveled at the speed of light and for two days now, you could hear the constant battles of  thoughts breaking out in his head. 

Words crashed against each other; phrases were left abandoned half way through and ideas were left unfulfilled. 

You groaned smacking your silk pillow over your face, your mind was exhausted on overdrive and increasingly overheating all because Jungkook couldn’t ease his thoughts and empty his mind at five in the fucking morning. Who. . Thinks this much at such ungodly hours of the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet. 

The scattered clouds invaded the dark blue sky dusted in shades of purple. 

Does she think of me? 

I do. 

Did she ever feel what I felt when we kissed?

I did—I do. I still feel it. Similar to how the sun feels on you on a hot summer day, the sparks on their ignited route as they traveled through every single inch of your skin setting it alight even today. You felt it then and you could feel it now. 

Finally, his thoughts ceased and you guessed he’d probably drifted off into a slumber. He probably looked so peaceful you thought, grabbing one of your extra cushions, laid on your side and placed it in between your legs like a mommy pillow. Sleep came knocking on your door and your eyes began to feel heavy. 

Jungkook probably looked like an angel as he slept. You could picture him laying in a sea of his messy sheets against his golden tone. 

By the time you woke up once again, it was nine in the morning and the sun peeking in through the windows ripped you right out of your sleep. 

Your room door burst open, “hey! I knew you’d be awake. What do you have planned for the day?” Hobi took a seat on the edge of your bed. 

“Whatever happened to knocking? I could’ve been naked you know..” 

“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.” 

“Fair enough,” you laid facing the ceiling, “I wasn’t going to do much today just going to check Mr. Kim’s list. He posted it on the bulletin outside his class for our upcoming project.” 

“Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.” 

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be in the dance studio. You wanna come see me later?” His heart-shaped lips did very little to cover his pearly whites as he grinned, “I’ll give the front desk your name so they can let you up when you get there.” 

“Please, don’t forget like last time or I’ll have to fight someone for real this time,” you said. 

“Won’t,” he called out as he strutted towards the front door, “I promise. See you later.” You heard the door open and shut before you began falling asleep once again but the peace and quiet was very short lived because you heard him again. 

What did I even dream about?

You wondered the same. Was he the type to dream up cute scenarios in that pretty head of his as he drifted off for the night? Did your face invade his mind in the late hours of the night? You hope you did. 

Your name echoed in the basis of his mind followed by the emission of thunderous groans. 

He seemed. . frustrated. 

Ah, fuck. Yes, Jungkook just imagine it’s her. 

The image in your head was impure as soon as  you finally realized what Jungkook was actually doing. You’d imagined his hand disappearing under the base of the pyramid forming through his duvet. Stroking himself slowly, his head lolled back against his headboard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, while his eyes fluttered closed as his eyelashes batting away all reminders of reality. 

I want her touch—need it. So bad. 

You’d become too enthralled in the symphony of Jungkook’s whimpers that you hadn’t really noticed the death grip you had on your bed sheets as your knuckles turned white and the way your legs rubbed against each other in a desperate plea for some friction. 

This was private. Jungkook needed privacy and while your mind opened a portal which prevented that, the best thing you could do was ignore him and the sensual persuasion laced in his bedroom voice, no matter how desperately he called out for you, it wasn’t right. 

Ignore. 

God, I would fuck her so good. 

Think of something else. 

With my cock buried deep inside of her. Fucking her into my mattress until she’s shaking with the overbearing stimulation of pleasure. Until, even her own name becomes a mere afterthought. 

You grabbed your phone from the night stand but your lame attempt at a ‘distraction’ was useless. His words were addictive and you were already soaked right through your panties. Your sheets began sticking to your sweaty skin while Jungkook’s ardent words continued heating you up. 

She would take me so well. Fuck! 

A shower! That’s what you’d do—just take a cold cold shower to ease those thoughts and shut him out until he finally finishes. 

You hissed as the hard pressure of frigid water hit your body from the shower head, even this wasn’t enough to mask the way your body shuddered as Jungkook continued. It was even more enticing that after everything—after his hostile gazes and cold words your face was in the forefront of his brain as he touched himself.

His alluring thoughts kept on playing one after the other and your cunt became the victim crying out to him with patterned pleas he would never hear. Your juices strolled down your inner thigh mixed in with the streaks of water and you could no longer bear the desperate thumps of aching cunt. You were going mad, honestly his stamina and self control were all to blame. The combination was torturous.  

While you weren’t one hundred-percent sure of what he was doing the way his thoughts became sporadic weathering winds of pleasure and then tranquility. It was a cycle, he would be on the verge of succumbing to his peak and then all of the sudden he would stop. Before beginning once again and again and again. 

The viciousness of his desire lasted until right around the time you turned the shower off and you couldn’t tell if for the past twenty minutes you had been in your own personal heaven or hell. 

I hate how much I still want her. 

I hate that I can’t have her. 

You can have me, Jungkook. You can have me now, tomorrow and forever.  

The heat was overbearing and you could feel the way your tank became soaked with sweat and the thin fabric stuck to your body. You heaved as you pushed open the glass door into the English building. Mr. Kim’s room was on the third floor and the bulletin board was stationed right next to his door. After opting out of climbing three flights of stairs you ride the elevator up and exit out to look at the posted partners for Mr. Kim’s upcoming project. Walking down the main hall you turn left and there it is—there he is. 

The simplicity of his outfit was composed of a plain white tee, gray sweat shorts, and over the ankle white socks tucked into black slides. The colorful ink adorning his skin still peaked under the sleeve of his shirt, his black wavy hair rested on the nape of his neck. 

The hallways were completely empty and his back still faced you so you kind of just stood there unsure of what to say or do. I mean you’d heard him masturbating just a few hours ago and while you truly did not mind even the slightest you weren’t quite sure how to even interact with him moving forward. While he seemed to despise you for the events that unfolded back in high school this morning was a complete change of events. His voice was dipped in sex as he moaned your name until he finally came. 

God, why was it so hot in here? Is the AC really off mid-summertime? 

“Hey,” his doe eyes stared at you, studying your off-putting exterior. Your eyes were blown wide, your tank was still soaked with sweat and you just stood there ogling him, “are you okay?” 

He stepped towards you with worrisome eyes. ‘Oh yes Jungkook, I’m okay. I’m just picturing the way your hand climbs up and down the length of your dick, head tilted back, mouth slightly opened as groans form at the root of your throat. You know, the way you probably looked this morning.’ 

Instead you decided on a soft, “I’m okay.” 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he placed his hand on your shoulder and you nearly fainted at the intense heat emitted from his skin to yours, “here, sit down,” he guided you to one of the lounge chairs sat opposite Mr. Kim’s class, “have you drank anything today?” 

How could you kindly explain that was not the kind of thirst you were looking to quench. 

“No. .” you shook your head.

“Okay, okay,” he grabbed a water bottle from the black backpack sitting at his feet. You hadn’t even noticed it before, you had been so focused on him the entire time, “here drink some.” 

The bottle was half empty meaning his lips were on it and now your lips would be on it too. This wasn’t really what you meant when you said you wanted to feel his lips on yours but you didn’t really mind either. 

“Yeah, sorry, I got thirsty on the way here,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I can get you one from the vending machine.” 

You must’ve been looking at the bottle resting in his grasp like an idiot, “no, it’s okay Jungkook,” you rested your palm on top of his hand, “it’s not like we haven’t kissed before right?” 

His eyes turned a shade darker than their usual brown and he cleared his throat, letting go of the water bottle right into your grip, “right.” he stepped back as if you were a cactus ready to nick him with one of your spines, “I was looking at the list for Mr. Kim’s class and we are partnered together with Jimin for the project.” 

“Okay, should we meet at my place tonight or tomorrow? This is due this Monday,” you took a sip of the water tasting the remnants of Jungkook’s strawberry chapstick left behind on the rim. 

“I have a basketball tournament due tonight but we can meet tomorrow if you’d like.” 

“Tomorrow,” you repeated, “any time?” 

“After four?” 

“See you then.” 

For the first time in forever Hoseok had actually left your name at the front desk of the studio on campus. After being left up you walked in through the double doors of the dance studio where the music blasted at highest volume and your best friend’s shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden floor as he moved throughout the room swiftly executing his choreography with perfection. Hobi was a force to be reckoned with and dance was his element. 

“You’re here,” his professional and focused aura peeled back as soon as he saw you enter the room, “I need a break anyway.” 

You sat on the floor with your back resting against the wall of mirrors. 

“I’m here and I cannot believe I witnessed such perfection,” you clapped your hands, “I still cannot believe my best friend is talented enough to finally snatch me away from poverty.” 

“You know I got us,” he sat beside you before laying his head on your lap. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, “but let’s not forget you chose to be poor.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I can’t really help having idiotic parents,” you shrugged. 

“I know baby,” he cooed. Hobi was quiet which was definitely out of his usual nature where he radiated a blinding luminescent orb around his being. He fidgeted with the strings on his sweatpants and opened his mouth only to say it again. 

“Hoseok, you’re anxious and it’s making me anxious. Just say what you need to say.” 

You combed your fingers through his damp hair, “I saw they, your parents, left a voicemail for you last week. Did you ever get back to them?” 

“No,” you sighed, “and I don’t think I want to either. Everything they tried to do and were willing to do was truly wicked and unforgivable.” 

“You never told me what happened.”

“It involves Jungkook, of course, and everything we did while in high school, Yeonjun’s party the summer before senior year.” 

“The one he threw the week before school started?” 

“Yes.”

“To this day I still can’t remember shit about that night.” 

You chuckled, “a lot of our classmates don’t remember that night at all but I do. I remember every single detail.” 

He didn’t say anything so you continued. 

Yeonjun’s lake house was like a maze. There were numerous narrow halls with an array of doors carved on each wall and it was the same for every single corner you’ve turned into so far. The little bit of alcohol you had began clouding your mind and you felt more intoxicated than you actually were. Your kitten heeled black sandals clacking against the hardwood floor sought a way out of this elaborate labyrinth and back to what you originally came for. 

The music playing just a floor below faded as you traveled deeper and deeper into the second floor, although you could still feel the booming bass vibrating right under your feet. 

You just needed a bathroom—not because you actually needed to use it but because you needed to take a minute to yourself. . to breathe. Every other corner of this house including the back and front yards and even the fucking lake are already invaded by massive seas of drunk teenagers. Their voices were too loud, the music was headache inducing and the atmosphere adopted a stench of sweat and b.o. 

After ditching the red solo cup on a nearby console table, you leaned against the off-white walls closing your to block out the dim lights making you a bit lightheaded. 

Seriously, who even had this many fucking rooms in one house. You mumbled. 

Sure, your family was wealthy but you were nothing like the Choi family. Your parents were both doctor’s devoting their time to the tiny private practice the two of them founded but on the other hand Yeonjun’s family came from a long lineage of  businessmen and they practically owned a handful of the businesses for miles and miles around. 

You weren’t jealous of all of the extra zeroes attached to his parents’ net worth, you and your own lived comfortably enough to not have any financial complaints. However, his parents were more liberal and they didn’t clip his wings. They weren’t clingy or demanding and they certainly did not push anything on him that he didn’t want to do. Your parents were not this way, they were controlling, and they told you what to do and eat, who to hang out with and date. With covetous thoughts you wondered if there would ever be a point in your life where you could feel as free as Yeonjun did. 

Maybe now that you’ve turned eighteen things would be different. Doubtful—your birthday was a month ago and nothing has changed. Unfortunately, you still lived under their roof and relied on their money. 

You removed your shoes and hesitated whether to travel back down stairs and out somewhere into the depth of the forest but immediately erased the thought from your mind as you looked down at your bare feet, mini skirt and crop top. This wasn’t really an appropriate outfit to go off exploring the woods in the middle of the night. 

The minutes continued ticking by and finally you spotted a door at the end of the opposite hallway with a vertical rectangular piece of frosted glass cut right down the middle. Your feet traveled down the heated floors before your hand reached out for the black knob; turning it slowly. 

It was a rooftop balcony. 

The railing was wrapped in garden lights, while two sets of black cushioned reclining beach chairs sat around a propane fire pit. There was a massive grill to the other side, a bar that would put a nightclub to shame and a huge patio furniture set. 

Your eyes thoroughly scanned your surroundings before landing on the boy leaning against the rail staring at the idiots swimming in the lake below. For the first time since you met him approximately four years ago his legs were exposed under the light washed knee length jorts, he wore a white t-shirt and a pair of black and white checkered vans. Still, right up the alley of what his style embodied but you had to admit you missed his signature chunky boots. 

He still hadn’t noticed you so you walked up slowly, “I never thought I’d see you at a party like this,” you whispered in his ear before jumping right beside him. 

The moon rays reflected a twinkle in his dark eyes, “Yeonjun and I are cool.” 

“So, why aren’t you down stairs?” 

“Why aren’t you?” his gaze traveled from your black painted toes all the way up to your eyes as if he was studying you intently. 

“Too crowded,” you shrugged, “and not enough room to breathe.” 

Jungkook looked ahead, his vision once again consumed by the dark green and brown shades of the dense forest once again, his side profile put artworks all across the world to shame. 

“Yeah, same,” he added, “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret but parties aren’t really my thing.” 

“No way. . I’ve seen you at every party for the past three years,” he dramatically rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice and you chuckled before continuing a bit softer, “is this your first one?” 

Jungkook nodded, “first one I’ve been invited to and the first I’ve ever attended too.”

“We’re breaking records tonight aren’t we.” 

“I guess I’m feeling a bit audacious.” 

You sneered, “audacious? Big word.” 

“Don’t tell me you think I’m stupid like the rest of our classmates. .” 

“I did my internship in the main office last year which included sealing report cards and sending them off,” he walked to one of the chairs and laid on it placing both of his palms under his head. Was he flexing? Couldn’t be. “You’ve practically taken every AP class offered at our school and aced all of them too. It’s a miracle how you have managed.” 

“What can I say?” he smiled and his cheeks rose like two loaves of bread in an oven, “I’m all brains baby.” 

“Brains and beauty,” you corrected. 

“I can’t also be ‘beauty’ when you’re here; living, breathing, being,” Jungkook is the personification of all of your desires and his aura worked hard to draw you closer and closer in his direction no matter how hard you worked to stay away, for his sake. Even when you tried to repel away from him the gravitational force he exuded called out your name and your tympanum became inundated by the wails of his being. 

Only he lived in your thoughts. 

The video-like memories you have shot of him throughout the years loop in your mind day and night. It was dizzying but you didn’t want it any other way. 

“You are beautiful,” you let your thoughts roll off your tongue freely—too tipsy to care and too enthralled by his striking features to lie about what you truly felt. What you’ve been working so hard to suppress for the past few years. You were tired of hiding, so fucking tired, “with your big beautiful eyes, and your cherry lips and rosey cheeks and all of these tattoos,” you carried on, “oh, and those piercings. Don’t you know that Jungkook?” 

He was flushed and his head became tilted down as he played around with the silver rings on his fingers, “know what?” 

“That you are more beautiful than life itself.” 

Jungkook scooched over on the chair and patted the empty space beside him inviting you to sit near him and you did. He laid on his side while his face rested on his left palm. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked. 

“I only had two sips of Hobi’s drink,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been on cranberry juice most of the night.” 

“So this is not a case of drunken words you’ll forget once the sun comes up?” he leaned in closer and you could see the faint freckles dancing on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. 

His eyes sparkled projecting bright constellations never before seen in the heavens, “I could never forget anything about you.” 

“You know I can’t believe that right?” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’ve forgotten about me for the past year,” he smiled devilishly, “you haven’t spared me the time of day. I’ve missed your sneaky glances. The way you’d drop your pencil half way through algebra just to bat those pretty eyelashes in my direction kind of like you are now.” 

“I didn’t do that just to look at you,” you clutched the thin gold chain hanging from his neck, guiding him closer to you, “I was just genuinely clumsy.” 

“I’m just saying it’s funny how the pencil always fell in my direction,” 

“Forget the pencil, Jungkook,” shivers cascaded down your back as his lips hovered over yours—his breath fanning against them. The aroma of lemon, and mint, with woody and balsamic undertones tickled your nostrils. 

Jungkook shook his head, his eyes remained on your lips as you swiped your tongue along them, “it’s not about the pencil?” 

“It’s not,” you added, tucking the few strands of hair that framed his face behind his ear. You just wanted to lay there with him forever, to be consumed by the warmth of his embrace, to lose yourself in the tenderness of his kisses, to wake up next to him tomorrow and also every single day after that. 

“So just admit you wanted to lo—”

You lips landed on his and finally you remembered just how magical kissing Jungkook was except unlike that day in school the bathroom, today, it wasn’t a game. You were there on your own free will and you didn’t care who was around to see. The only concern clouding your mind was how much more of him you craved. The way your mouths moved each other made you feel inebriated, even more than alcohol ever could and you weren’t afraid to admit his lips had you addicted. 

The silver metal hoop hung onto the corner of his lip felt cold, but so good in comparison to his heated kisses. Despite where you were or how many people currently invaded Yeonjun’s house it felt like you and Jungkook were the only two people on the entire planet. Just the two of you with your lips dancing on each other with the moon and the stars baring as your only witnesses. 

Jungkook pulled away slowly—panting slightly, “please shut me up like that more often,” he held your face, resting his forehead on yours and pecking your lips continuously, “tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll always kiss my stupidity away.” 

You nodded, “Jungkook, how about I kiss you like that always and forever. Not only because of your stupidity as you call it but just because.”

“Are you trying to confess something?” 

He sat across from you on the beach chair taking your legs onto his lap, his soft hands massaged the soles of your feet. You swallowed back the guttural groan riding up your throat melting deeper into the chair due to his therapeutic touch. His fingers moved higher and higher up the length of your extremities, halting right above your knees, yet he continued kneading his fingers into your skin. 

“Tell me.” 

You hummed. 

“I need you to be an open book with me. What are you looking to confess?” 

Your eyes remained closed as he continued touching you gently—almost feather-like, “Jungkook, I can’t really think when you’re doing that. .” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No, please,” you pant. 

He continued kneading your thighs, “tell me.” 

From the tips of his fingers currents of electricity trickled onto your skin, “ah, fuck. .” you breathed, “I like you Jungkook. I like you. Okay?”  

Hobi sat up beside you, now leaning against the mirrors as well. The sun has begun its journey towards the horizon and its rays peaked through the slightly drawn blinds,  “wait so you guys. .?” 

You nodded but said nothing else. That night had been a secret between you and Jungkook. 

“On the roof of Yeonjun’s house during our senior year back to school bash?” The surprise in his tone was evident but you weren’t taken back by it all. 

“Yes,” you smiled faintly, unwilling to hide the giddiness you felt from the memories of your time together from Jungkook, “it was our little secret. We swore to each other we wouldn’t  say anything to anyone. That’s why I didn't mention anything to you before but obviously someone saw and word got out that same night.” 

Hobi sighed, “don’t tell me another fight broke out between him and your dumbass ex-boyfriend.” 

You shook your head, “this time it was different. I wasn’t scared of what others thought anymore. In that moment I decided I would stop caring. I wanted to stop hurting him,” your clammy hands began to shake slightly and Hobi placed his palms on top of them to stop their trembling, “that night after the party we rode around all night aimlessly. Enjoying each other’s company and truly I was the happiest I had ever been all my life. Everything went to shit as soon as I made it home and walked in through the door. My parents waited for me to get in, they sat me down and began rambling about my change in behavior and how different I had become.”

He hummed and you took that as a sign to continue. 

“As soon as I sat on the chair that night they slid over my mom’s phone and there was a picture of Jungkook and I kissing on one of the longue chairs. I swear I had dejavu from freshman year.” 

“Did you ever find who took the picture?” 

“I never did but I always figured it was one of my ex’s minions or something,” you shrugged, “to be honest, trying to figure it out was the last thing on my mind. They started talking and talking rambling on about my personality change and rebelliance and how Jungkook was the cause of it or some shit.” 

“How did they even come up with that?” 

“I asked myself the same thing,” you snickered, just thinking about it even now makes your blood boil, “but it didn’t matter. Being eighteen didn’t matter; they just wanted to keep us away from each other at all costs. They made all types of threats to make me press charges and file a restraining order which I obviously refused. Then, they vowed to make his life hell if I didn’t stay away and I didn’t want to find out what they meant so I decided to comply and stay away.” 

“Okay, now I’m beginning to understand why you moved in with my family half way through senior year,” his thumb rubbed circles on the dorsal side of your hand, “were they mad when you left? I used to ask my mom if your folks ever reached out but she always avoided the question.” 

“They were livid but nothing they could ever say or do would ever make me stay in that place.” 

“Did they manage to leave Jungkook alone?” 

“Well, after the big cut-off Jungkook and I were never able to find our way back to each other,” your voice was low, almost as if you couldn’t hear yourself it just wouldn’t be true, “and I moved in with you and your mom and I completely blocked them out of my life.” 

“Good. I’m glad you ditched them,” he pinched your cheeks, “you deserve better than them and their money’s no good to you anyway.” 

“I just wish I would’ve kept in contact with him. Maybe tell him what was going on or something,” you scratched the back of your neck obviously frustrated at your lack of communication skills as a stupid eighteen year old. You were such an idiot—why couldn’t you open your fucking mouth? 

“We all make bad decisions at one point in our lives but you had no choice, baby. You were sandwiched into the wall one bad choice up against another. You made the best decision you could with the circumstances at hand,” he snuggled closer to you, wrapping one hand around your shoulder, “don’t beat yourself up over it please.” 

“I love you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would ever do without you.” 

He kissed your forehead, “I love you more.”

Today Jungkook’s highway of thoughts has eased and though you liked how calm the morning has been you also kind of missed the feeling of his lingering presence—almost as if your own shadow was missing. 

You despised waking up towards the early hours of the afternoon but today you couldn’t seem to peel yourself out of of your bed, until finally you couldn’t fathom the idea of napping your day away—plus couldn’t do that even if you wanted to because Jungkook and Jimin would be over in about thirty minutes to begin working on Mr. Kim’s project. 

Jimin had been the middle man in this entire set-up, he had both of your numbers so he took it upon himself to text the two of your separately (because he knew you and Jungkook were physically impossible of initiating a social exchange amongst yourselves), and get you both on board with a neutral territory to meet at. Of course, Jimin’s idea of a neutral territory involved a place where he could catch glimpses of his ex strutting around which meant your apartment was his ideal meeting spot and although his thoughts hadn’t revealed anything so far you just knew Jungkook wasn’t ecstatic about this whole arrangement. 

After taking a quick shower, getting dressed and setting up a plate of sliced fruits and a couple bags of snack size chips and cookies you heard a light knock on your door. 

Taking a deep breath you turned the knob before pulling the door open. It was Jungkook and as always he looked breathtaking. You were beginning to think comfort was his go-to because yet again, he wore sweats and a simple t-shirt—tattoos still peeking out at you, his bottom lip still pierced with the same small silver hoop, hair half up half down and his book bag slung on his left shoulder. 

Removing his headphones he stared back at you as you continued ogling him, “hey. .” he greeted in his deep tone. 

Why is she staring at me like that? 

Do I have a stain or something? 

He looked down at his shirt but when he saw nothing he just stared back at you tilting his head slightly. 

“Hi,” you stepped out of his way and he finally crossed over the threshold into your apartment, “you’re the first one here so we’re just waiting on Jimin to make it before we begin. Please sit anywhere.” 

He nodded. 

The apartment wasn’t necessarily big but it wasn’t small either. An open floor plan made up the space between the kitchen and living room area with a rectangular island separating the two rooms. Immediately to the right of that was the door leading to Hobi’s room, then your room sat at the end of that hall just a couple feet away and the bathroom was just across from your door. 

Yet even as you walked towards the kitchen and Jungkook made strides towards the love seat in the living room you felt like the two of you were cramped in a tiny box with the temperature hiked to the highest setting. God, there were about a million things you could say or offer him but nothing could ever mend his broken heart and that was enough to keep your lips sealed tight. 

Where the fuck is Jimin? 

I don’t know if I can be here alone with her for much longer. 

And it’s so fucking hot. I’m gonna pass out. 

Fuck, you knew it. He’s upset. Though you already figured coming here was probably  hard for him, you didn’t imagine it would hurt you as much as it did to actually know how much he despised being in your vicinity, but it did. 

Jungkook sat rather stiffly on the couch, bag still slung on his back as if he was ready to leave, staring off into the distance while his leg bounced up and down anxiously. Strolling past him silently you nearned the thermostat and cranked the AC up higher.  

That’ll literally fix nothing at all. 

You turned around taking a seat on one of the accent chairs near the row of windows on the opposite end of the living room. If it wasn’t for the invasion of his thoughts, the silence would be killing you softly. 

“Have you heard anything from Jimin?” he finally looked in your direction but not into your eyes instead they lingered lower—in the direction of your legs. The hunger displayed in his eyes took you back to the night before when he moaned your name so sweetly. 

“Nothing,” you tapped your screen to show him the lack of texts and placing the phone back on your thigh, his gaze followed almost like he was hypnotized. 

You would give anything to hear him just one more time—Fuck, just once more. 

He cleared his throat, snapping out of those sinful thoughts cooking up in your head, “yeah, same. And I’ve texted him like three times.” 

“I’m thinking that little shit bailed even though he planned this whole thing,” you were scared to form your thoughts into actual words, “do you want us to start or would you rather wait for him?” 

He breathed out almost exasperated—damn, you should’ve kept the suggestion to yourself. You were about to take it all back but then he finally spoke up, “We’re both here now. I think we can begin and then fill him in. . If that’s okay with you.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s the best we can do,” did he just willingly comply with staying alone with you, “I’ll go get my notebook. Gimme one second.” 

“Okay.” 

Right. . Okay. Just here to get our work done. That’s all. That is all. Yeah. 

You sat beside him on the couch startling him just a bit—he seemed tense, “so we’re supposed to pick a movie, and match no less than three scenes to at least one of the emotions listed.” 

“I say we do the very minimum and pick the movie I’m sure we’ve all watched,” he asked, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook. 

“Titanic?” you asked. 

“No, The Blind Side,” he scoffed, “do we really want to sit here for one hundred hours just to recap the eternity that is Titanic?” 

“But the emotions for Titanic are so easy to dissect; we have happiness, love, and jealousy right off the bat,” you argued, “the assignment is practically done for us already.” 

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to do Titanic. We need to stand out. Be different.” 

“It’s an intro to writing class. I vote for taking it easy, weren’t you just moaning about taking it easy anyway?” your tone was a bit condescending you’d admit but the way he scanned your figure was addicting. There was nothing you craved more in this world than to have his gaze drink you in as if you were his favorite drink. 

“I wasn’t moaning.” 

I was last night though. 

You swallowed hard, biting your tongue and holding yourself back from going along with begging him to moan the way you’d heard him do so the night before. His husk groans so low and sweet, so fucking sweet, “But you were.” 

“It was a suggestion. There was no moaning involved.” 

“Well, maybe if you did moan I would cave and take your suggestion,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could ever stop them. 

He smirked, “so you just wanna hear me moan.” 

Don’t smirk. 

Eternally mad at her, remember?

The internal conflict raging within him gave you at least a little bit of hope. As you mapped out the field of his thoughts you figured he wanted nothing to do with but distance himself; to be cold and standoffish but he also revealed he wanted you. He wanted you near—to hold you, kiss you, touch you. 

It was confusing and headache inducing but you liked that you still lived in his mind the same way he lived in yours. 

You shrugged, “maybe I do.” 

“Please, don’t,” his eyes finally met yours. 

Look away. 

But he didn’t and you were glad he didn’t. 

“Do you want me to beg Jungkook?” you purred low and slow—the translation intended was desperation and you hoped he understood exactly what you were hinting at. You were tired of hiding behind your emotions. 

She’s a fucking pied piper and I’m the snake hyptonized by sweet song and mindlessly slithering towards her. 

Yes, Jungkook. Come closer, come to me. If only he could listen to your thoughts, this would be a whole lot easier. 

Fucking one way telepathy. 

“Uh,” there was a mere blank look plastered on his features. His pupils were blown and a soft tint of rose dusted his cheeks. It was as if your words had sucker punched him and he was still processing the hit. 

You moved closer to him on the couch, placed your hand on his thighs to balance yourself as you drew closer to his ear, “please, Jungkook. Please, I need to hear you moan again.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck! 

He groaned and the honeyed husk tone sent a trail of goosebumps up your thighs resulting in your panties becoming moist, “please.” 

“Jungkook, I want you,” it was the first time in years you’d heard those words adjacent to his name and fuck did it feel good. 

Fuck it. 

His calloused hands were now on your waist and he began guiding you to lay on the loveseat before your hand landed on his chest to stop him. 

“I said I want you,” you sat him back down before kneeling in-between his legs. The fit of his sweats got tighter, lifting and taking on the shape of a tent, “you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment so that means I’m in charge here today.” 

Tell her. It’s easy. 

Tell her you want her too, you fucking idiot. 

He never vocalized it but you didn’t mind—knowing the thought pranced around on his mind was more than enough for you. 

“Are you okay with taking these off?” he complied, taking his sweats off swiftly, letting the pool at his ankles. Jungkook is fucking big and you were taken back by the sight, “good boy,” you cooed. 

His head fell back on the headrest while his eyes were shut tightly and his breathing became uneven. Oh! He likes that. He likes being called a good boy; you made a mental note to call him that again if you find yourself in a similar predicament. 

You raked your nails along his inner thigh, “Jungkook?” 

He hummed. 

“What do you fantasize about?” you laid your head on his thigh, his dick just a couple inches away from your face and truly all you wanted was to take him all in your mouth. 

“Alot of things.” 

You reached up, taking his length into your hold and he winced at the contact as you began moving your hand up and down once and once again, “I need more details than that.”

“I think of. .” his words became jumbled in his throat as you continued your very mellow and teasing touch, “of you doing, ah fuck, of you doing all these things to me.”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head at his semi-confession, “Jungkook, have you touched yourself while you think of me, hm?” 

Of course, you already knew. You’d heard it yourself but you just loved seeing him become so affected and so sensitive as a result of your lewd utters. 

Your palms traveled up to his pink tip and began rubbing circles with your thumb painting it white with his precum. 

“Good boys don’t touch themself.” 

Jungkook’s mouth remained agape but there were no words communicated instead he formed a sort of soft whimper, and that was the kind of motivation your body needed to go into overdrive. 

You wanted. . No, needed to rid yourself of these suffocating ass fucking clothes, you needed to touch yourself—to release that tension aching so painfully in between your legs. But you didn’t. Today was not about you. 

“I know. .” he groaned, digging his nails onto the black leather couch, “but when I have you invade my thoughts,” he paused looking for all of the right words, “I just can’t control myself.” 

“Hm, seems like I have a lot to live up to compared to your fantasies,” you kissed the head enveloped in your hand before swiping your tongue along his shaft and he hissed. 

His saccharine noises should be made into a playlist so that you could be able to replay them over and over everywhere you go but especially when  you lay under the covers of your bed in the late hours of the night. The only thoughts occupying your mind would be the compositions of his lustful cries as your fingers worked diligently to get yourself off. 

It was so tempting to just allow his hands to continue traveling down your stomach and waist, a few more inches and his fingers could be at the exact location where your body screamed out for his attention. 

You wanted it so bad. 

You tutted while clicking your tongue, “sit back, Jungkook,” you removed his warm feeling away from your lower back and placed them on his knees before patting them softly, “and keep your hands to yourself. Yeah?” 

“It’s really hard to,” he said, “nearly impossible when you’re working so hard to get me off and you’re just sitting there squirming whenever I talk about touching you. Cause the thought has lingered around in your mind, right?” 

“Jungkook, this is not how tonight is supposed to go.” 

“Then, how is it supposed to go?” 

Your hand began moving up and down his cock, pumping him once again before you felt the corners of your mouth beginning to sting as you wrapped your lips around him. It was painful. . Good painful though. With each passing second you bobbed your head on his cock working to take him inch by inch but no matter how much you tried, it was nearly impossible. 

His hand snaked around your neck aiding you, sinking himself deeper into the warmth of your mouth. With strings of saliva streaming down your chin, puffy lips, heated skin and a sort of fucked out look in your eyes you continued the repetition. 

Seeing him lose himself under the ministrations of your touch and mouth was overwhelming and drove you to the verge of nearly succumbing to the peaking orgasm lurking close by. Instead you diverted your mind to what you were doing instead of what you felt. Placing one your hand around the base of his balls massaging them into your touch, while you put firm pressure with your thumb on the perineum—and that’s when you saw the explosion of fireworks erupt in his eyes while his thighs began to shake. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Her mouth is—fuck! 

“I’m so close,” a needy whimper escaped his lips, “please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Please.” 

You complied, nearly choking on his cock. The feeling of being nearly rid of your ability to breathe was addicting and yes, if tonight were to be your last day on earth it would be a pleasure to die with Jungkook’s dick in your mouth. 

“I’ve been a good boy,” he cried out, “can I please cum?” 

Been such a good boy. So good. 

You hummed in approval right before he spilled into your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it before turning to see his splayed out body—all limp and tired. 

After wiping the corners of your mouth you sat beside him on the couch. Your knees were red and stung just a bit but honestly you could do it all over again—all night if you could. Slightly, opening his eyes he looked down, placing a kiss on each knee. 

“I never thought we would-” he paused momentarily, “we would do something like this ever again.” 

“Really?” your voice became hoarse, “because I’ve thought about it for a long long time now.” 

“You have?” 

“I have,” you continued, “and I’d like to think you do as well but if you’re ever ready to actually admit what you truly feel you know where I’ll be.” 

I do want you. So bad. 

And my feelings for you have always remained the same. I still have feelings for you, I feel everything for you. I always have and always will. 

He didn’t say a word but simply offered a sly smile before slipping away to get himself together in the bathroom. 

… But you were not disappointed. 

He needed time and that’s okay. You’d be more than happy to give him the time to dissect this peculiar relationship the two of you have. . developed. It’s the least you could do after all these years. 

In your heart you just hope he finds his way back to you. 

“So you sucked him dry and then you both continued to work on the project like nothing happened?” Jimin asked; his head laid on Hobi’s lap. Yes, they were back together. This was apparently the reason why he had missed the project session the night before.  

“We were kinda forced to when your ass was MIA from the very meeting you set-up.” 

He rolled his eyes, “nobody forced you to suck his dick.” 

“Fuck you, Jimin.” 

“Why don’t you begin by fucking Jungkook instead.” 

“Jungkook and I aren’t fucking anytime soon,” you sighed spinning around on your desk chair. The ceiling seemed to come crashing down on you even as you thought of gravity of your fucked up reality, “it’s like I can feel that he still feels something for me but he just won’t vocalize it.” 

Hobi caressed the apples of Jimin’s pink cheeks, stroking them lightly with his thumb. They were the picture perfect image of love—whenever they were not fighting of course. 

“So you sucked his dick at the expense of what?” Hobi inquired. 

“I really just wanted him in my fucking mouth,” you shrugged not really wanting to scramble for any other explanation because the truth of the matter is all of you would always calls out for Jungkook whether you wanted to or not. 

“Oh, baby,” Hobi abandoned his place on your bed and kneeled in front of you holding your hands in his, “while I support all forms of slut revelations and tendencies as your best friend it is within my obligation to require you to tend after your heart.” 

You nodded. 

“Jungkook is alluring, captivating, mysterious and absolutely handsome—” Jimin cleared his throat behind him, but he ignored his boyfriend and proceeded, “and the two of you have a lot of history both good and bad but you have to understand what happened in the past is yesterday’s event. Jungkook can break your heart or hurt you in any way and it’ll be just as fucked up no matter what happened between the two of you back in high school. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Hobi was right but how could you shut out the part of your brain which justified every single way Jungkook could tear you apart? Underneath the spark; shining bright in your eyes every single time he appeared in your line of vision you knew you deserved his wrath for every inconvenience you had a role in while inserted into his path. 

“Don’t just say it. Mean it.” 

The room felt smaller, suffocating, colder and Hobi’s words rolled around in your head in every single direction. The three of you were sprawled around your full bed watching a random movie Jimin had picked out. You sat up against the headboard while the two of them laid on their stomachs facing the television hung on your wall. You weren’t alone but your bed felt empty and as you looked off to your right you couldn’t help but be transported back to last night when you and Jungkook finally settled on the Titanic.

The tragic telling of two people who found their way to each other against all circumstances and the barrier of societal norms and expectations that stood in-between them. Of course, aside from Leo unnecessarily dying in the final act this could be a retelling of pinpoints on your relationship with Jungkook. You liked each other, your parents were against it, you lived in the moment and you let your heart lead a way here and there but as soon as the iceberg (your parents, your ex, and even you) became introduced as the antagonist the two of you found yourselves swimming in an ocean of heartbreak and despair. 

You would always assume responsibility for every single way you hurt Jungkook in the past but if one thing must be crystal clear is that you also love him. You did back then and you do now—the only difference is that back then you were looking to please all of those around you and you suppress your feelings in the deepest pocket of your heart but you wanted to liberate it all. You were finally ready to listen to your heart.

It was a composition to a beautiful song, one so loud it courses through your very being, awakening your nerves and causing your thoughts to explode into a frenzy. 

You wanted him here with you. Snuggling into you sharing longing looks and deprived touches. 

You wanted him to be open and push all of his fears away. 

You wanted him to realize that you were different now. Things were different and you would treat him so well. 

I need to talk to her. Yeah. 

Almost as if his brain and his phone were wired together you heard a ding go off right beside you. 

‘Hey, can we please talk?’

Your heart sank because in your experience that sentence never led to a good thing. Never. 

‘Sure. When are you free?’

‘Right now.’

‘Hobi and Jimin are home. You can come over if you don’t mind some company or we can meet somewhere else?’

‘Come to my apartment in 5.’ 

‘K.’ 

Jittery was the exact word you’d use to describe Jungkook at soon as he opened up the door to his apartment and stepped aside to allow you in. The length of his finger had a slight tremble and his eyes were blown wide. 

You hadn’t really seen him like that in a while. 

“Jungkook, are you okay?” 

He nodded, “yeah, just a bit stressed with everything going on plus I’ve had like five energy drinks in the past five hours.” 

“What’s got you so stressed?” you asked standing before him, you felt hesitant to sit anymore. I mean you did have his dick in your mouth like less than twenty-four hours ago but you didn’t want to push it and you certainly did not want to invade his personal space. 

“Too many things, honestly. School for one. .” he ran a hand through his hair taking a brief second to determine exactly what he wanted to reveal to you, “work study plus now I'll be co-coaching the swim team as well.” 

“You’re headstrong Jungkook,” you offered, “I’m sure you’ll do amazingly even with this hectic schedule you are so determined to take on.” 

“I went to this psychic once and she told me my ambition to take on everything would lead to my demise,” he chuckled airily, “I’m beginning to think she was right.” 

“Psychics are bullshit. Who says you can’t have cake and chocolate ice cream too?” 

“Right,” you hadn’t noticed before but casual was Jungkook’s new staple. Seems like he has drifted away from his black boots and particularly dark toned outfits. You liked that version of him quite a lot, although you hadn’t really shown it in the past. However, you also liked the version of him standing before you where he maximized comfort and migrated to mostly tones of white, gray and nudes, “of course you would make that comparison. Cake and chocolate ice cream have always been your go to dessert combination.” 

“Isn’t it everyones?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “for example my nutritionist might say it’s too sugary.” 

“Well, fuck the psychic and that nutritionist of yours too,” Jungkook’s laugh is just like the rest of him—inviting, sweet and genuine. When he laughs, it’s addictive enough to make you want to make him laugh again and again, just so you can hear that sound and see her giggly smile as much as possible, “forreal, but also just remember you gotta just live in the moment, don't worry about tomorrow or even yesterday. Today is all that matters.” 

“I definitely agree but funny enough I kinda wanted to talk to you about what happened last night..” He cleared his throat, “on the couch of your apartment. Well you and Hobi’s apartment.” 

You looked down at your dusty white converse before finding his eyes once again, “what exactly did you want to talk about?” 

Go on. Go on. 

“We’re good right? Are you okay after—well, you know,” was he worried about hurting you after you suck him off yesterday? God, you could suck his dick all over again and then once more after that or preferably until your jaw locks and your knees dissipate. Though, that still wouldn’t be enough to extinguish the burning desire in the pit of your stomach. 

“What exactly are you asking?” you took a step towards him, “shouldn’t I be the one making sure we’re good especially considering all of our history together?” 

“Forget that.” 

Don’t bring it up, please. Just forget about it. 

“I can’t Jungkook,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure we’re okay and I wanna apologize for what happened. Please, let me do it. I don’t want you to resent me for the rest of your life because of it.” 

“There’s no need to. I forgave you long ago. The cold stares and snarky comments were always just a front,” he confessed, “I forgave you the second after everything went down.” 

“And I thank you for that but I still need to do this. I need to get it off my chest,” you reached for his hand; the warmth of his hold settled your nerves and finally you were able to go on, “Please, forgive me Jungkook. For going through with that dare and kissing you in the bathroom. I did want to kiss you but I should’ve never let them take a picture; it only made things worse for you. I’m sorry for not comforting you after your fight with my idiot ex, although I wanted to. I was scared but you were too and it was my fault so I should’ve been there. I’m sorry for ghosting you after we spent the night together at Yeonjun’s party—my parents, they gave me an ultimatum and I was just a high school senior still very dependent on them and I know that’s not an excuse but I managed to make it one back then. Most of all I’m so fucking sorry for not reaching out to you sooner and making things right. I just hope it isn’t too late now.” 

His hands abandoned yours and instead he leaned over before cupping your face, “I told you already. I forgave you for everything a long time ago.” 

“I appreciate your kind heart and forgiving nature, Jungkook,” you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in the process, “but still I needed you to know how truly sorry I am.”

“Please, stop apologizing,” he sighed, “the past is the past and you have no reason to be apologizing to me right now.” 

“You keep saying that but I did and I do,” Jungkook’s stare was comforting; his eyes felt like embers burning your skin under the sun rays shining bright during the mid-afternoon sun, “and I will continue to do so at any given minute. I need to make up for all of that lost time—every single minute; every hour I’ve let you slip through my fingers. You deserve to be treasured, loved and cherished for the rest of your days and I will do just that if you allow me to.” 

“What exactly are you asking me?” 

“I’m simply asking that we allow things to ride out and perhaps the tide might just take us somewhere beautiful.” 

He giggled, “do these sonnets just live in that pretty little head of yours?” 

“My head is more than just pretty,” you challenge. 

“I know that,” this is the giddiest you’ve ever seen Jungkook be. In recent times he had adopted a sort of hard shell, which he often wore like a shield but today as he leaned on his kitchen island with his head propped up on his palms he looked elated, “I just like the way you describe the potential of there being an. . us.”

“Do you like it enough to give things a chance? Maybe even go on a date?” the tremble in your extremities gave away just how truly nervous you felt, though you tried your best to hide it. You’d never asked anyone out before but for Jungkook you were willing to make the first move. 

She’s so poetic with her affinity for love. I like the way her eyes light up when she talks about us being together. 

“How about tomorrow?” 

“I’m free tomorrow.” 

The following day was a blur overshadowed by a nimbostratus cloud which swept in a vicious squall with gusts so powerful your room was left a literal mess as you spent hours prior to Jungkook picking up frantically looking for the perfect date outfit. 

Now, you sat in your little casual red dress in the passenger seat of the car Jungkook borrowed from his best friend. Your balmy sat atop your thighs and you tapped your fingers lightly on your heated skin. 

The night sky was beautiful—drowning with a million of bright stars and a moon so illuminating it spotlighted your path. Nightlife here roared with vibrancy and the sidewalks were congested with people bar hopping or looking for dinner spots among other things.  This scene had great capability in finally claiming your attention away from Jungkook and his sinful thoughts but it was hard. Every single image Jungkook painted within the beauty of his mind blasted in your head seemingly like a framed art piece in a gallery. Except, the only difference was that roaming around a museum was peaceful, whereas Jungkook's wandering thoughts made you quiver and sent glacial shivers down your spine. 

For the duration of the ten minute car ride he’s use the weapon known as his mind and managed to peel your clothes off, re-imagining the way your mouth moved on his cock, then, within seconds he painted a picture of what it would be like to fuck you against the hood of his car. You’d admit the depiction of you against the cold metal bumper with your dress hiked up to your waist, while he pounds into you relentlessly really was more than enough to ignite (with the man sitting behind the wheel; eyes hyper focused on the road ahead; and his tattooed knuckles gripping the steering wheel), about a million fantasies you wanted to fulfill with his assistance. 

But the urge to have the heat of his touch roam every inch of your body became abated when Jungkook parked his car and you found yourselves sitting across from each other in the red booth of a seafood restaurant on the pier. The incandescent bulb overhead did very little to irradiate the space between you and yet Jungkook still looked as radiant as ever. The muffled and incessant chatter of the patrons scattered throughout the establishment became similar to the buzzing of bumble bees and truly you weren’t really too sure you could make out conversations they engaged in. 

You were kind of nervous and although you’d hope it wasn’t too obvious you couldn’t help the way your eyes scanned the room and your body failed to comply with the simple order of sitting still. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook sat up on the leather seat and looked off outside the glass window drinking in the vicious waves as they crashed against the golden shore. 

You look beautiful every single day. 

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I see your signature black boots have finally made a comeback,” you followed his eyes out to get a view of the roaring sea, “I thought you might’ve grown out of them.” 

This look—tonight was the epitome of teenage Jungkook core and you couldn’t help but savor the brief stroll down memory lane. Of course, back in high school you’d always had a tiny little crush on him and while you worked to get over it; that was not an issue today. You were gawking—practically drooling at how amazing his biceps looked under the sleeves of his white tee, his black jeans hugged his thick thighs and his hair was tied half up half down and of course those damned black boots. 

“They’re my secret weapon. I just keep them in the back of my closet for special occasions.” 

I also know they were always your favorite look on me. 

“In that case, I’m honored that a night with me is considered a special occasion enough to bring out the boots,” Jungkook finally turned towards you, his eyes shining bright like jewels even in the shitty lighting. 

“I figured it fit our little slice of history perfectly.” 

“Don’t tell me these were the exact ones you wore that day? 

“They are the exact same ones.” 

“I thought you would have gotten rid of them with everything that transpired,” you whispered; talking about the past still felt taboo. 

“I contemplated that many times,” he shrugged then proceeded in a timorous voice, “but I just couldn’t. There is an abundance of bad memories attached to them but the memory of my first kiss trumps all negatives.” 

“Your first kiss?” Your shock was evident and for a second you had to look around just to make sure you weren‘t too loud but the people around the two of you were too into their own conversations. They were oblivious to the little corner you and Jungkook occupied towards the back of the restaurant—in your own little world, “I-I was your first kiss?” 

He nodded before taking a small sip of his water. 

“Jungkook?” 

He looked at you, “what?” 

“Are you being one-hundred percent serious. . I was your first kiss?” 

Jungkook pressed his lips into a tight line causing his cheeks to become impaled by his chasmic dimples; then, he closed his eyes briefly before taking a deep breath, “I was a loser in high school. Of course, I was spared a few friends but in the ‘love’ department I was lacking severely so naturally no one was ever interested in pursuing anything romantic with me. Until, that afternoon when the girl I’d been crushing on finally walked up to me in the bathroom.” 

“If I could go back in time and embrace the feelings that I had for you, Jungkook just to tell you how I actually felt I’d do it in a heartbeat,” your heart beat rhythmically in your chest and quickly you began feeling fatigued as if your air supply would be cut off if you didn’t peel back every single one of your layers and confess exactly how you felt. 

“If I could go back in time and tell you what I actually felt despite the consequences I’d also do it in a heartbeat,” he murmured, taking your hands in his. 

“Good evening and welcome to Under the Sea, can I get you started on anything tonight?” the server approached. Her hair was tied up messily and she wore a black polo and black pants while carrying around a small notepad and pencil in her hand. She seemed friendly but a bit overwhelmed—though, you couldn’t really blame her, this place is leaning a whole lot towards chaos. 

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Jungkook said, a fib of course, the two of you had been too busy talking to scan the menu before she came over, “I’ll take the Cioppino. Anything looking appetizing to you?” 

“I think I’ll take the Paella.” 

“And for drinks?” she asked scribbling away on her notepad. 

“I’ll have a Coke.” 

“Same here,” the two of you handed back the menu, “thank you.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she smiled before walking off towards the kitchen. 

The rest of the night at Under the Sea was brief and while you and Jungkook indulged in small talk here and there the two of you were starving and more concerned about getting something in your stomach. After leaving the busy restaurant Jungkook led you in the opposite direction of the parking lot towards the small park across the street from the beach. Right under the live oak tree there was a blanket laid out with numerous flameless candles flickering their feeble light around the very spot. As you got closer you noticed the basket sitting next to the blanket on the grass and the rose petals scattered around. 

“Jungkook. .” You became stunned at the attention to detail of the man before you. Everything looked so beautiful, “you did this all? W-when did you even have the time to set this up?” 

“I set everything up before our date and I know some of the workers from the restaurant and asked them to check in every once in a while and bring our snacks out like five minutes ago so nothing would spoil.” 

“You prepared snacks for us?” 

“More like I cut-up some fruits.” 

“In that case I’m judging your knife skills.” 

“Not too harshly though,” he tittered softly and airily. It mimicked the comforting tunes of lullabies, “come one, let’s sit. I have some things lined up for us tonight.” 

You sat beside him on the velvet fabric, you folded your legs to your side and used one of the spare blankets to cover your lap. Before you there were two medium sized tabletop easels and a selection of paints and brushes. 

Jungkook removed the white button up he’d left unbuttoned and kept on the white wifebeater. For the first time you finally had a full view of his sleeve; on full display. The black traces filled in with colorful shades adorned every inch of his right arm all the way down to his wrist. You had the urge to reach out and trace every single pattern but you held back—you and Jungkook were good but this is the beginning stage; first you have to dip your toe in and test the waters. 

She’s staring at my arms. . Be calm. 

Don’t flex. . Don’t flex. 

Dammit. 

He flexed, reaching up to brush a stand of hair back and out of his face. 

You smiled, “so, what’s supposed to be our inspiration for painting tonight?” 

“Each other. You paint me and I’ll paint you.” 

“Jungkook, I’m a lousy painter,” you whined. 

“The point isn’t for it to be good,” Jungkook began brushing soft strokes on the canvas, “it’s about the creative process. . the ideas that your mind interprets into art.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” you scoffed. 

“Art didn’t always come easy to me.” 

“How did you know this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?” you finally picked up a brush and squeezed a dash of paint on the wooden palette, allowing your hands to work freely—to create. 

“The first time I drew anything for others to see was in high school,” his eyes were gleaming with thoughts of reminisce, “Ms. Julie, reached out to me sophmore year, said she needed my help designing the yearbook cover for the seniors that year.” 

“I remember the cover that year,” Jungkook looked over at you and there was a layer of joy featured on his face, “it was absolutely beautiful and I also remember every single cover after that being just as amazing.” 

“Thank you,” his cheeks were a crisp crimson now, “I designed all of the year books every year after that as well. Actually, I still help Ms. Julie from time to time even now.” 

“That’s amazing. It’s truly a gift that your hands possess and I’m so glad we get to see what they create.” 

Jungkook stopped his movements all together, his gaze no longer set on the easel, instead he looked downward, his cheeks still burned bright, maybe a little more now than before and by the paced heaves of his chest he seemed to be calculating his every breath. 

“Thank thank you,” he stammered. 

“And just so you know I intend to shower you with compliments, so get used to it.” 

He beamed, “what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“What are your passions?” 

You shrugged, “Hm, I was never really good at anything back in highschool and while I knew I had to do something. I had a really tough time figuring things out.” 

“But then. .” 

“Then, I did an internship at the daycare on campus the summer before classes started and I realized how much I love being around all of the kids,” you said, “and at that moment I automatically knew what my major would be, come the fall semester.” 

“Funny how life works right?” 

“One-hundred percent.” 

The cool draft of the expeditious night swept by softly allowing you to leave behind the once scorching afternoon. Right now, you became a resident in your very own slice of heaven and in your head the only people around for miles were you and Jungkook. For the past thirty minutes, the two of you haven’t crossed many words, you were too focused on contextualizing the perfect artwork—one that’ll remind him of you wherever he sees it. 

Now, you were not an artist by any means but you tried nevertheless. The best interpretation of him you could come up with was to depict the sheer contrast between the different versions of himself. 

The two were slightly different yet when meshed together working symbiotically to make Jungkook the perfect mixture of tranquil, mesmerizing and lulling all in one. 

Your canvas was split in two—one side you painted baby blue with music notes substituting the clouds in what would be the bright afternoon sky and and a lousy excuse for a guitar sitting on the bottom. This was the version of him that lived inside and the one only a few people got to see. His mysterious aura and great passion for music. Then, on the opposite side you painted a black background in combination with it there was an abundance of colorful art supplies scattered all throughout. This one represented what he chooses to show and what many saw on the outside on his day-to-day course. 

After some finishing touches you moved back on taking one last look at your work, “okay. . Here, I tried my best but it’s not your face. Just some things that remind me of you.” 

“Let’s see,” he hummed excitedly, waiting for you to turn the canvas around. 

“Be nice, okay?” 

“I will, I will.” 

When Jungkook was excited there were a lot of distinctive actions that communicated with his body and expressions. His eyes lit up like the explosions of fireworks on a summer night; his shoulders were raised up past his jawline and his cheeks burned bright. 

“It’s not good, okay,” you beamed at his cheerfulness; it was cute how thrilled he was. 

“It’s perfect,” he leaned closer to sneak a glance, “come on. Let me see.” 

“Fine,” turning the canvas around felt like an invasion of privacy, although everything on it was solely about him, it was still like a clear window into your soul and how you saw him. 

You’d never been this vulnerable before with anyone. Never. 

He scanned the explosion of colors sitting in-between your hands. Jungkook’s lips curved up while the corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement. 

“This is amazing and absolutely the best depiction of everything I love.”

“Don’t lie to me, Professor Picasso.” 

“I don’t lie about art,” he reached for it and you placed it in his hands, “and this is a masterpiece.” 

You scoffed. 

“I’m serious,” he argued, “this is going up on my art wall. Front and center.” 

“This better be the only thing on your art wall,” you muttered. 

Jungkook finally grabbed his canvas holding it close to his chest. . Well, as close as he could due to the wet paint, “Here’s mine.” he still had not turned it around for you to see. 

“You know you actually have to turn it for me to take a look.” 

He chuckled, “I know but nervousness is contagious. . Just gimme one second.” He took a deep breath before slowly turning the canvas in your direction and there you were. Same facial features, hair style and red dress you had chosen for the night. The talent his fingers convey is jaw dropping. It is evident Jungkook is an amazing artist through and through. 

“Jungkook. .” You knew he was good; you’d seen the covers he had designed for the highschool yearbook back then, still, that didn’t prepare you for this in the slightest bit to see yourself from his point of view, “I don’t have an art wall but this will definitely be the beginning of one in my apartment.” 

He guffawed while passing his painting over. 

“I’m serious,” you continued, now closely examining his precise attention to detail. He got every single attribute down to the smallest scars and birthmarks, “your talent is impeccable. Just look at how amazing this is.  It’s actually not fair at all. I want mine back.” 

“No way! You can’t take back gifts you have already given away to someone.” 

“Yes, I can,” you argued, “especially if my gift looks like shit next to yours.” 

“It most definitely doesn’t. I already told you, I love it and it’s going up on my wall and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he leaned closer, placing a soft peck on your forehead and clutching the painting tight in his grasp. 

You groaned admitting defeat, “but I am expecting a lot more paintings from you.”

“Always.” 

Of course. As long as you’re beside me, and even if some day for some reason you aren’t, you’ll continue to be my muse forever. 

His muse. You love the sound of that. 

The sound of the pouring rain beat rhythmically on the glass window. For the next few hours your bed was your haven and Jungkook’s bare arms were your form of a warm blanket.

Although the clock on your night stand marked four o’clock, the day was as dark as night and as the sun refused to come out to play the dark nimbus clouds invaded the stretch of the expansive sky, refusing to allow even a single ray of light to illuminate your bedroom. 

The power had gone out but the two of you had lit up some candles in various locations of your room. You were both in your underwear, semi-sticky with a thin layer of sweat coating your entire body as a result of the air conditioner no longer being on. 

Even in the heat the two of you couldn’t untangle yourselves from each other. 

“We’ve been laying here in the heat for hours,” his fingers raked over your shoulder and down to the middle of your back. 

“There’s nowhere we can go to cool down for the day. I’m afraid these four walls are it for us today,” you complained. 

“And moving will only make us hotter.” 

“I think the two of us being tangled up like this is already making us hotter.” 

His hands tightened around your waist, “yet there’s nothing you can say to let me go.” 

“Then, it’s a good thing I don’t want you to let go,” you crossed your arms on his chest and laid your chin on them; looking up at him through your lashes taking in his figure as he laid back against the headboard. 

“Why are you looking up at me like that?” he asked though his eyes were still closed. 

“I just like having you. . here.” 

“In your room?” he asked. 

“In my life,” you confessed, “I guess I never thought we could make it here again.” 

“I had faith—hope. I knew that eventually we would get to talk and forgive each other.” 

Every fight and every bicker was a call to drive you closer to me. Immature I know, but it was all I could do and say to get close to you. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong to me, Jungkook,” you traced lines over his collarbones leaving before sparks of electricity; you felt as they traveled down to the tip of your finger, “if anything I was constantly praying you’d forgive me.” 

Forgiving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.  

“I walked away after Yeonjun’s party,” he caressed your cheeks with the pads to his finger, “that was my worst mistake and I knew exactly how it looked too; like I just hit it and quit it.” 

“You didn’t hit it and quit it, Jungkook,” you sighed, “I did that to us. I was the one who walked away from us. None of it was your fault.” 

“But I let you walk away. I didn’t fight for us.” 

“Hey,” you cradled his face in your hands, “I didn’t let you fight for us. This is on me.” 

But I never went searching for you. I just let you—walk away. The night you got up from that longue chair on the rooftop of Yeonjun’s house I thought that was our beginning; I just never thought it could be our end instead. 

“It’s on us,” Jungkook leaned into your touch, softly moving his cheek against your palm, “but we can only work to overcome our past. . Together.” 

You held onto the gold link looped around his neck, clutching it in order to pull him towards you until finally your faces were just an inch away from each other, “Together.” 

“Kiss me, please,” his breath fanned across your lips as you continued guiding him closer and closer to you—his eyes were closed once again and he completely succumbed into this trance of your navigation. His lips were warm and velvet; parting slowly before they landed on yours. You became lost in the way your heartbeat continued beating faster and faster. The soft ballad of the steady thrumming tickled your ears and along with the taste of his mint lips on yours you began feeling a bit faint. 

The room was still hot, the power was still out and you still sat on Jungkook’s lap but now you became exhilarated riding off the feelings in the way your body connected. It wasn’t just the kiss—no, it was also the way his electric touch began tracing the lines outlining your body, traveling down between your breasts, then down your stomach and up your sides until they rested on your hips. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed around with the elastic waistband of your panties, rubbing small circles on your lower back. 

You were breathless pulling away from that kiss but in between breaths you managed to pull his forehead against yours before allowing yourself to speak one again, “Jungkook, can I tell you something?” 

He nodded. 

“I-I want you, Jungkook,” your brain felt like it melted right into mush and there were no coherent thoughts in your head that didn’t revolve around Jungkook. 

You were dickmatized. Yes, you were. 

“You have me.” 

“I want all of you.” 

“Take it all,” he whispered. 

Do anything you want to me. Do everything you want to me. Do whatever you want with me. I am yours for the taking. 

You felt the beads of sweat strolling down your body accompanying the slight tremble in your every movement. Still, you moved with the facade of faux confidence and soon you found yourself straddling his thigh, sinking down against his heated and sticky skin. Indulging in a steady pace you began moving back and forth against his thigh all while holding onto his shoulder for support. Jungkook’s head fell back against the wall but his hands never left your waist guiding your movements to the quickened beat of desperation. 

“You look so pretty riding my thigh. You know that?” he smirked; his cheeks were the tone of wine. Jungkook bit his lip to maintain focus on the sloppy motion he continued to maneuver. 

You hummed entirely consumed by that heated feeling in between your thighs—entranced in the way his soft whimpers only guided you towards that very place where you could finally reach out and touch the stars. 

“Fuck—fuck, keep going, yeah?” you stammered never ever wanting him to stop being the root of your every desire. 

What gave her the impression that I’d stop? This. . Us, it just feels so right. I will never be able to live in a reality where the image of her getting off on my thigh could ever cease—not after today. Not ever. 

“Just-just let me guide you, baby girl,” his voice was low and husk followed by a series of unpaced breaths. 

“Take me there, Jungkook,” you moaned. 

Oh, fuck—I’ll take you there baby. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you there. 

His fingers dug into you while his fingernails left behind marks of deep crescents traced on your skin. The guidance of his movements was near animalistic and the fabric of your panties was now sticking to your juices and there was nothing you craved more than the desirous urge to unravel under the trance of Jungkook’s ministrations. 

Back and forth; back and forth you moved reaching higher and higher as your fingertips brushed touch the points of the luminous star and before you knew your teeth sunk into his shoulders suppressing your moans and your hips no longer followed the rhythm he previously set and you were finally swimming in the night sky—so high; so satiated. 

“Oh,” you breathed, “that-that was amazing.” 

“You tired yet?” he asked. 

“Not at all.” 

Jungkook hugged your waist and flipped the two of you over; your bodies pressing together heatedly against the ocean of sheets, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together once again. His hands quickly dipped under the waistband of your panties reaching for your inner thigh, until you felt him press the pads of his fingers in between your folds smearing the combination of your juices. After  his torturous teasing he slipped two fingers pumping them in and out of you quickly. 

“Oh, baby,” he finally pulled away from your lips, allowing a string of whimpers to slip past your swollen lips, “you feel so fucking good.” 

“Jungkook, faster please,” you rocked your hips to match the beat of his fingers moving in and out of you. 

“Is that what you want?” he hummed, “tell me. You want to cum at the mercy of my fingers?” 

“Yes-yes. That’s what I want please.” 

Jungkook laid beside you on the bed with his face buried in the nape of your neck. His hand still worked diligently to get you off as he whispered soft praises against the shell of your ears. You were in your very own depiction of utopia—euphoric with stimulation of endorphins. 

“I’m close-close, Jungkook,” you dragged your nails down his back, likely leaving streaks of red trails behind as he quickened his pace. Meanwhile, you felt your body temperature skyrocket and the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened until it could not become any tighter and for the second time that night you felt how the storm passed and once again you floated throughout the night sky. 

While Jungkook strove to read your body like the ink inscripted into the pages of his favorite book; the absence of his wandering hands made you feel empty—as if you couldn’t really breathe. At all. 

“What happened, baby girl?” his lips traveled downwards on your body while his hands finally worked to unclasp your bra, (two orgasms later you couldn’t believe you still had all your undergarments on), and now your breasts became the forefront of his attack and leisurely he took each nipple in between his teeth smirking at your gasps and shudders as a result of your sensitivity, “are you the one who can’t stand the rule of not touching today?” 

“Ah—,” he lightly bit the side of your left breast before kissing it better, “the only thing I hate right now is that your dick isn’t in me right now.” 

He laughed; the booming sounds struck just like the raucous cries of thunder just outside your windows, “what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I can feel how hard you are against my leg.” 

“What? This?” Jungkook sat-up on the bed working to remove his boxers. When he finally did he discarded them to the pool of clothes somewhere on your bedroom floor while his cock sat before you like it had been a few days prior.  Jungkook laid back down in front of you, placed a tender kiss on your forehead before he moved closer towards you, lifting your leg up and allowing it to rest on his hip. Once positioned he began rubbing the head of his cock against your clothed slit —especially focusing on the sensitive bud. 

He traced the lines of your lips over and over until you couldn’t take it any longer and tears began filling your eyes and you chanted hastely begging him to fuck you right into the mattress. 

“Please, Jungkook,” a needy whimpered rolled off your tongue, “please fuck me, please fuck me please.” 

Jungkook was now on top of you and he reached down, moving your soaked panties to the side before he lined himself at your entrance. You closed your eyes anticipating that moment when his cock would slip in and stretch you out so good you’d feel full beyond relief. And just as you imagined he slowly pushed himself past your entrance, your mouth fell agape at the sensation of his cock invading you inch by inch. 

The feeling was immeasurable and better than anything you’d ever felt before. 

“Will you be okay if I move?” he asked almost out of breath. 

You nodded frantically.

“Just let me know if you wanna stop at any point, okay?” he remained still. 

You nodded once again. 

Jungkook moved cautiously, setting a lento rhythm—almost as if he thought you’d break if he fucked into you too hard. His tattooed hand brushed your heated cheeks as he continued his agonizingly slow thrusts. The room was still silent for the most part except now in company to the pitter-patter of the pouring rain the two of you contributed your very own duet composed of his guttural groans mixed and your shaky pants. 

His lips left sweet kisses behind on both of your cheeks, then your nose, your chin and lastly your forehead. 

She looks so fucking beautiful like this; all sweaty and aroused just for me. Fucked out just for me. I’m so lucky. So lucky. 

“Jungkook?” you tucked your bottom lip under your top row of teeth. 

“Yes?” 

“Deeper, please,” you whined, “not faster but harder. I want to feel you deep in me.” 

Deeper? Fuck. She’s gonna be the death of me. I swear she is. I’ll fuck you just how you’d like baby girl. I’ll fuck you right. 

“Okay—okay,” he stammered. 

Jungkook stopped his movements and pulled out momentarily as he adjusted his position in between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing past your entrance once again, and yes, it felt just as jaw dropping as the first time. Jungkook’s pace remained lento except now whenever he was about to push back into you he made sure to lunge himself deeper causing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours to echo within the walls of your room. 

“Oh, Jungkoook,” you let out a drawn-out moan, chanting his name repeatedly, “right-right there, oh, Jungkooook. Right there. Please don’t stop.” 

He continued penetrating you just as you wanted until once again, for the third time that night, you were on the very edge of the planet. You could see the exact place where the sky met the earth. Trotting towards the phenom you felt the way your heartbeat quickened and finally as you approached you began clenching around him until you witnessed an explosion of stars behind your eyes; a feeling so blissful your knuckles turned white as you clutched the sheets underneath you in your grasp. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. .” he hissed pulling out quickly. 

“What’s wrong?” you gasp at the feeling of emptiness now substituted by a ravenous void. 

“I almost finished inside of you and we forgot to wear a condom,” his cock was held tightly in his hand.

You swiped your tongue on your lips, “would you like some help with that?” 

“That is not how today is supposed to go,” he mocked. 

“Fine,” you shrug, “but I was going to offer my body as an alternative.” Jungkook’s  pupils become dilated, your words obviously peeking his interest, “come on my face, Jungkook.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” 

Jungkook towered over you on the bed, kneeling right beside you on the bed—by now you were spent, too tired to do anything but lay there and admire the way his head hung back as he worked to find his release. The design of his tattoos followed suit beginning all the way from his shoulder blade, to his flexed and veiny bicep all the way down to the tight clasp of his finger around his shaft moving hastily from base to tip. 

“Look at you, baby girl. All eager for me to come on you,” Jungkook said through clenched teeth, “you’re so naughty for me. All for me.” 

“All for you, Jungkook,” you repeated, “I can’t wait to feel just how warm you’ll be on my face. Come on, baby. ” 

Your mantra of praises rolled off your tongue semi-automatically but you were needy to feel his seed on you so you continued using your words to aid him in the process of jerking off. He continued moving his hand up and down his length until the tip became painted white with drops of pre-come. 

“I’m almost—” he cried out; his guttural whimpers sent waves of glacial shivers interlacing with the ridges of your spine. 

“Yes, Jungkook. Be a good boy.” 

“I am a good boy,” his labored breathing came out in puffs, “I am. .” 

“Then, come on baby. I’m waiting.” 

Jungkook was immersed in what you knew was likely the build-up of his approaching release. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly, while the muscles in his stomach tightened accentuating his already sculpted physique while his cheeks turned a bright scarlet. 

“I’m coming!” He cried out. 

The spurts of his white semen painted your face as he worked himself to the very last drop. Even in his moment of release Jungkook was careful enough to aim towards your mouth and chin and you licked everything within reach of your tongue. 

“Let me get a wet rag and I’ll clean you up okay?” Jungkook stood from the bed and placed a kiss on your forehead before walking towards your bedroom door and opening it up. 

A few seconds went by and suddenly you heard a loud shriek and a plethora of muffled words which sounded a lot like your best friend, Hoseok. Not a lot of time went by before you saw Jungkook enter the room frantically before slamming the door shut and leaning against the wooden surface. 

“Hoseok’s home?” you laughed. 

“And Jimin.” 

“And they saw?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Please remind me to never leave this room naked again.”

“Yes! Please remind him!” Hoseok yelled from just outside the door. 

A bursting titter erupted between the two of you and Jungkook climbed back into bed with you before he helped you wipe off the mess he’d made on your body, then laid down beside you. 

“Can I ask you something?” You began snuggling deeper into his embrace. 

“Yes?.” 

“Will you stay here tonight?” You asked barely above a whisper—barely audible. 

Jungkook rested his chin on the crook of your neck, “of course, I’ll stay with you tonight.” 

There was no place you’d rather be than embraced in the solace of Jungkook’s warmth. 

Tonight, tomorrow, and forever after that. 

I’ll always stay with you.

-

-

-

an: you know what im about to say right? ignore the smut scene ~if you must~ it literally took me like two weeks to write because my brain wasn’t working >.<

i literally started working on this like a week before seven released…. *gulps*

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts reactions #bts imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut #bts jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #mentions of literally every member + txt’s yeonjun

[hisunshiine]

—revelations under the moon

🌙 pairing: alpha!namjoon x omega!reader 🌙 au/genre: ABO au, fated mates au, angst, smut 🌙 series rating: M 🌙 wc: 9,468 🌙 series warnings: mentions of an off-screen character death (barely a character tbh), brief male masturbation, thoughts of 'cheating' (if they aren't true mates though..is it?), cursing, retelling of a fake historical fable that includes VERY brief mentions of murder and suicide as the consequence of a tragic hero's hubris explicit sexual content: biting, marking, knotting, semi-rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare 🌙 an: wow, i did not think i would get this out in time, january was a rough month for me, but my grandpa just finished his last lung cancer treatment last week, and im trying to just balance all the stress of real life, but yeah, i think it's getting better. thank you to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @peachiilovesot7 i appreciate all your help, whether you helped in december or in february, it is much appreciated, as always. you're the best hype squad. this is also my first ABO story, so if you hate it don't tell me. LOL 🌙 summary: "When crescent rises, we shall rise as one, Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun." Alpha-heir Namjoon and his long time sweetheart are thought to be the next pair to rule Highscrest, but when Duskfall is attacked, the heir makes a decision that changes the course of not only his and his girlfriend's destiny, but yours as well.

This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the lovely @colormepurplex2! Happy Valentine's Day!

🌒🌒🌒 Tuesday - Waxing Gibbous

The loud chatter of the crowd irritates you; your senses are on overdrive after the past two weeks you’ve had. Packing and moving everything you own across the river during the New Moon was unexpected—almost as unexpected of it being a result of a peace treaty signed by the Beta of your old pack after the death of Alpha Tyvrin. 

A Beta jostles you in an attempt to move closer to the raised platform at the far end of the civic center, and you shoot him a quick glare before turning your attention back to the men on stage to avoid any drama. An Omega glaring at a Beta isn’t as bad as if it was an Alpha, but insubordinate enough still. The new tribe members do not know your previous role in Duskfall and have every right to challenge any hierarchical disrespect.

“Quiet, please,” a voice rumbles quietly, but everyone in the room follows the directive. You recognize the Alpha Father, or the father of the Alpha-Heir and most recent Pack Alpha of Highcrest, at the podium. Your irritation drops as your senses can finally focus now that the room is silent. The smells of so many new pack members still suffocates your olfactory system, but it’s bearable now. One scent seems to overpower the rest, a clean forestry smell that seems to dilute the others. “Good evening, and thank you all for coming tonight. We hope you all have been acclimating to the changes these past few weeks. If you have any concerns, please reach out to any of us here.” 

The Alpha Father waves over his son, stepping aside to let him take the lead of the rest of the meeting. Your eyes drink in the lithe movements highlighted by the fit of his suit. “Thank you, Alpha Father. For those of you who are joining us from Duskfall, at the time of the New Moon three months prior, I began the ascension steps. Right before your arrival, I had just finished the last of the three trials. All that remains is the bonding.”

You look around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction to his voice as you are—the crowd is transfixed; all attention is on the Alpha Heir Kim Namjoon. He’s young, almost thirty, but commands the stage. It’s not just because he’s handsome, though the blue suit and his dark brown hair help. His aura oozes from afar, your inner wolf screaming at you that this is a man you would follow and it’s your turn to receive a dirty look as you bump into the person in front of you. You turn back to the stage, ears attuning to his baritone as he continues.

“—final ceremony will take place in three days, and as you all know, I will be selecting my mate. I know that there are many newcomers who may be wary of joining the pack with all of these changes happening so soon, but please have faith in us. Highcrest will protect you all, and we will be at full strength as soon as the full moon rises in a week.”

Some applause breaks out, and his confidence soothes the wolf inside you that worries about this treaty. Highcrest sits on the eastern side of the Twin Rivers split, atop the range that leads to Twin Falls. Your previous pack, Duskfall, was integrated into Highcrest two weeks ago after Shadowhide attacked and killed Alpha Tyvrin under the cover of the New Moon, in a successful attempt at taking the land between the two streams. 

The fertile soil and access to the freshwater source has been a source of contention between Duskfall and Shadowhide for decades, and while a group consisting of the Alpha, Beta and his best warriors patrolled your western border, Shadowhide attacked. The Beta and a few others escaped by the grace of the moon, which gave the pack enough warning to prepare and kept Shadowhide at bay now that the act of surprise was gone. With the Alpha slain and the clock ticking before Shadowhide invaded, the Beta had no choice but to reach out to Highcrest for help. A peace treaty was signed, allowing all pack members of Duskfall to join Highcrest in exchange for their commitment to the pack. Any members who were against the treaty were allowed to leave of their own volition and go back to the main city, or find a pack of their choosing, but with the danger of Shadowhide’s takeover imminent, everyone agreed to travel east across the river and up the mountain range to the safety of Highcrest.

“Thank you to all of Duskfall’s former pack for all of your patience with us as we’ve worked to create a space for all of you here in Highcrest. After the ceremony, which is open to all unmated Omegas, everyone from Duskfall will officially be of Highcrest, and those who have not yet finished their commitment rites can do so at that time.”

You watch as Kim Namjoon waves over a tall, slender woman with sleek hair falling down her back. She is the picture of elegance, her walk stalking forward in a hypnotic fashion as she steps beside the Alpha-Heir and speaks to the crowd. You recognize her from the Apothecary you’ve been training in ever since you’ve settled into your new life here.  

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Min Everlight, an Omega of pack Highcrest. I am the head healer for the pack, and if Alpha Namjoon is ever unavailable, please come see me down at the Apothecary. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can in his absence.” Her hand moves almost subconsciously towards his, and they intertwine fingers. “We have committed our lives to this pack, and all of us up here will do our best to provide for Highcrest. Please stop by the apothecary this week if you haven’t yet received the Aconite to remove your Duskfall markings in preparation for your Highcrest one.”

Everlight stays linked to Namjoon as he takes a slight step forward to end the meeting.

“When the crescent rises,” he begins, and the people around you intone their response. 

“We, too, shall rise.”

Walking under the waxing gibbous, you and your Beta roommate, Sana, wave goodbye to one of your elderly neighbors. You’ve been checking on all of the members of your old pack, helping them in any way you can to get them acclimated after work. You go home tired every night, but you want to make sure this merger works.

Sana skips ahead as your new home comes into sight, singing the Alpha-Heir’s praises. “He’s so brilliant, I promise you this is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. And Min Everlight? She’s amazing, right? You’ve been working under her these past couple of weeks, isn’t she effervescent?”

You laugh at her excitement, answering her vaguely as you unlock the door to your shared home. “She knows her stuff, that’s for sure. I’ve learned a few new things already since we’ve been here, but most of it I already knew.” Sana dreamily wanders to her bedroom, ignoring your slight diss and chattering mostly to herself about how wonderful tribe Highcrest is. You plop onto the couch unceremoniously, thoughts on Min Everlight. 

Everlight is effervescent, with an inner glow that makes her the perfect Omega as mate for the Alpha-Heir. You’ve heard from the other women at the Apothecary that she and Namjoon have been dating for years. Longtime sweethearts and—if their little show on stage meant anything—his choice for his mate. This thought makes you feel sick, because ever since you walked away from Duskfall and followed him to Highcrest, your heart has thrummed for him. 

Taking a deep breath that you let out with a sigh, you change your line of thinking before you venture towards a vitriol hatred of your soon-to-be female leader. Min Everlight has been nothing but motherly and nurturing to all of you since your arrival, but the more you see her all over the Alpha-Heir, the harder it is to like her. Not just because of her romantic relationship with Namjoon, either, but that she represents everything that you almost were, and reminds you of everything you lost.  

You scratch at your upper arm over your shirtsleeve, where the Aconite serum you rubbed on earlier dissolves your Duskfall tattoo in preparation for your Highcrest one. The Aconite is diluted and mixed with other herbs to prevent poisoning that would weaken you before the ceremony. Sana disappears into the shared bathroom to shower, and you close your eyes for a moment not meaning to fall asleep as you wait for your turn.

The moon goddess blesses you with dreams of Duskfall past, memories of your destined path as the tribe’s Luna-to-be—the Omega paired to the now fallen Alpha Tyvrin—and you wake to the reality that all you have trained for was for naught.  

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Or, more like you wake with the sudden slam of a door, sitting upright as you squint to keep back the sunlight. 

“Damn, you slept on the couch?” Sana questions, looking cheery and well-rested.

You clear your throat to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”

Sana glances at her watch. “Um, it’s half past eight.”

“Shit, I overslept, and I’m supposed to meet with Everlight again today.” You stand abruptly, and begin organizing all of the large pillows on the couch, laying the blanket just so until you hear Sana laughing at you. You look up at her with a glare. “What?”

“I think you might be in pre-heat. You’ve fluffed that pillow at least three times, and that blanket cannot be folded over the back of the couch any more perfectly unless you’ve got a protractor in the cabinet.”

“There’s no way, it hasn’t been enough time since the last one.” You ignore her as you clamber back onto the couch, tucking your legs up under you seemingly forgetting your plans for the day.

“Your heat is probably gearing up because of some Alpha at the meeting last night. With Tyvrin gone, rest in moonlight, you’re no longer taking the suppressants are you? With everything that’s happened, it makes sense that you’d forget,” she theorizes, “and apparently Highcrest doesn’t have that practice here.”

You can’t believe you’ve forgotten. In Duskfall, you were chosen by Alpha Tyvrin to be his mate, and asked to take suppressants until the ceremony. This was to help to prevent you from having a heat, decreasing your pheromones from triggering any non-bonded Alpha’s into their ruts and endangering you. These past few weeks since the move, you haven’t been taking any suppressants, and you’re sure by now it's run its course and is out of your system.  

“They don’t practice that here?”

“No, weren’t you listening at the meeting? The Alpha-Heir doesn’t choose his mate the same way like in Duskfall. Highcrest has a different ceremony. All unmated Omega’s can be part of it.”

“But isn’t Everlight most likely going to be chosen anyways?”

“I hear there’s blindfolds involved, so maybe instead of sulking, and filling the apartment with your sour scent, you can just join the ceremony and give it a try.”

The news fills your chest with what feels like sunbeams, and you smile at the Beta as you relax into what you’re now realizing is a nest.

“Ah, the room smells so much nicer now. Also—you’re late.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Kim Namjoon sits patiently outside the Apothecary, waiting for Everlight to finish for the day. He can sense her inside, her scent a fresh scent of clean linen, just brought down off of the line after soaking in the sun. It’s always been the strongest scent to him, out of all of the women in Highcrest, and he’s sure that the Moon Goddess will prove her to be his mate this weekend when he ascends to his Alpha status. 

Fingers drumming along his clothed knee, he hums to himself as he watches the sunrays filtering through the trees as it sets. The small bell above the door chimes as small groups of girls and women of all ages trickle out from the shop—Everlight hosted a gathering after work for all of the newcomers to review the Highcrest ceremony procedures for women, and they all bow respectfully when they catch sight of him seated in the chair near the door. 

Namjoon can’t help but wonder what else they were working on today, his nose itches to investigate whatever new tonic or serum she’s put together this time—the smell is amazing. Like a warm honey coating his tongue, hints of bourbon with small bursts of brown sugar peaking his interest. He hopes it’s not something inedible, like the Aconite serum, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and moving to peer through the small glass windows framed in the center of the door. 

Ah, he thinks as he takes in one of the new pack members, Everlight must have let one of the Duskfall women teach a new tonic. Namjoon recognizes you through the dusty glass standing in front of the group, and remembers that his Beta, Seokjin, had pointed you out from afar when you first arrived.

🌑Two Weeks Ago 🌑 Monday - New Moon

“That’s Alpha Tyvrin’s mate, er—was his mate. They hadn’t actually had the ceremony yet, the attack happened before the full moon ceremony could happen, but she was set to be Duskfall’s Luna.” Seokjin’s finger points down the lane from the window of City Hall, connecting to a woman walking towards the villager housing area. Namjoon eyes you warily before posing a series of questions to his Beta.

“Will it be an issue to have two mature Luna’s in a pack? Should we offer to place her with another pack to mate with an Alpha?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t ever heard of something like this happening. Typically the Alpha has already mated the Luna, and since one cannot live without the other—”

“I see.” Namjoon understands why the Moon Goddess would create such a fate for paired leaders. “Had the ceremony already happened, she would be buried next to him. It could be a help, now that we have so many more people, to have two strong healers in the pack. Maybe she could travel on patrols in case of an attack?” He wonders how Everlight would react to finding out that there’s another Luna-trained Omega in the pack, and if this would be a way to spin it to lessen any blowback. 

Seokjin looks thoughtful, eyebrows lifted as he tilts his head and gathers his words carefully. “That could be a good option for the second Luna, so that their training and skills do not go to waste, especially now that our pack has grown…It could also be worth mentioning—with so many new members, it would be a good show of faith if you were to perhaps choose the Duskfall Luna as your mate—”

Namjoon’s growl silences Seokjin momentarily but he presses on when he sees no claws being barred. 

“I’m just saying, nothing helps unite two packs better than having one of their own integrated into the upper levels of the hierarchy. If we want to keep peace and help Duskfall feel loyalty to Highcrest, taking their to-be-Luna as your mate would be the smart move. You and Everlight aren’t fated, so it’s not like our pack would frown upon it under the circumstances—”

Namjoon’s eyes cut like daggers as he stares his Beta down, almost dragon-like in ferocity as he contains his inner beast. “Everlight is my mate, Seokjin. I would never betray her like that.” 

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday (present) - Waxing Gibbous

Looking at you now, Namjoon is glad to see that you and Everlight seem to have no issues working alongside each other. After reading through previous Alphas’ historical notes and reviewing the history of the packs of the Twin Rivers Valley, he decided that it would be best to keep you around, as he worries his newest constituents would revolt if they thought he had banished you from Highcrest. He spent the first couple of weeks talking to other elder members of Duskfall, and learned that a lot of the pack had come to rely on you as they became acclimated, that you had been going around to visit with them and check-in, and keep them all calm with the changes happening. 

He appreciated that you had taken this on as a duty, especially when you were dealing with the biggest blow of all. Namjoon meant to meet with you to thank you, but the longer he took, the more it felt fake, rehearsed, and like an afterthought instead of what it really was: an Alpha-Heir not yet familiar with his role, and learning about you from afar made him feel like a weird stalker of sorts that he had all this knowledge of you and your skills from others.  

Your skills would be most useful to their pack, and though you were meant to lead the pack by an Alpha’s side, you could still maintain some modicum of that role, just as the second to Everlight. Namjoon is sure this plan will work. He plans to have a meeting with Seokjin and Everlight tonight, that way he can make sure that they will follow his plan without any issues. 

He knows he could just order everyone to follow along, but using his Alpha to force others to do what he wants doesn’t always work out in the long run. The history of the tribal lands and the fact that there were three distinct tribes from the original one, up until Tyvrin’s death, is proof of that. 

It’s much better for a leader to have the consenting loyalty of his pack, instead of forced fealty that brews contempt and derision. Namjoon steps back from the door to allow another person to exit, and once again, the honeyed bourbon seeps through the opening. It’s much stronger this time, urging him to his feet almost against his will. 

He feels his blood thrumming, pounding through his veins like a rushing river. Namjoon checks his forehead, as if feverish, and notices his hand comes back with a sheen of sweat. It’s like he’s gone into pre-rut, which would be crazy. He’s pretty regular when it comes to his ruts lining up with Everlight’s heats, and she’s still not due for a little bit…

Namjoon stumbles backward, taking the three steps back to solid ground quickly as he tugs at the collar of his buttoned shirt. He’s too hot, it’s all too much, he has to do something, move, but he’s in the middle of the town, there are people who look to him to be more restrained than this standing all around…Namjoon trips a little on the gravel beneath his feet as he takes off back towards City Hall and away from Everlight, afraid that if she is due for her heat and his pre-rut was triggered by that, he would mount her right there in front of the last few people in the store and fuck her hard against the counter, not caring if everyone saw the powerful way he drove his cock in and out of her until he filled her with cum and knotted her.

He’s locked himself in his office, blinds closed with his fist wrapped around his thick length as he imagines it: his hands firm on the plump rounds of ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he spits between them, Omega slick lathering his cock with every stroke and the tight walls sucking him back in with every pump out, and when he cums—copious amounts leaking around his large hand—it’s only then that he realizes that it wasn’t the clean linen-scented Everlight he was imagining taking his knot.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

You’re irritated—more so than you’ve been since your entire life was turned upside down two weeks ago. The Beta that’s always around the Alpha, Seokjin, randomly showed up at your place in the morning saying you were tasked to go on a supply run to the nearest city. It makes sense—Seokjin explained that the Alpha had handpicked everyone in the group to help new pack members meet others and start to learn their ways, and you appreciate it, except for the fact that you don’t want to be far from home right now. 

In fact, because of the upcoming ceremony, Everlight had let all of the women training in the apothecary have the next few days off, as she expected to be chosen and wanted to prepare herself and her home for what was to come. You had mixed feelings when she initially announced this to everyone, because while you enjoy the respite from the constant go-go-go of changes around you, the reason behind it left you feeling miffed. 

All of yesterday, you spent time working at the Apothecary and were even asked by some of the others to show them some tonics and potions that they had never heard of, and while you enjoy teaching others, it’s quite draining to go through the motions while talking through every step you make, and why. The girls quietly scribbled down your words in their notebooks, committing your teachings to paper, which made you feel good about yourself, until reality hit about your future. 

It almost didn’t feel fair that you were so new to the pack and already others were looking to you to train and teach them new things, meanwhile another person is slated to take the position you’ve wanted and trained for your whole life. 

Shaking away your thoughts, you tap back into the moment, finally having arrived in the bustling city a little past mid-day. You hate all of the smells; the odor rising from the sewer grates and scents from the people who jostle you as they rudely push past your group. You hold back the urge to plug your nose, sighing out a weighted exhale as you follow Seokjin through the automatic sliding doors and into a grocer’s market. 

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

Back in the forest, a half day’s trip from the city, Kim Namjoon spends his time in his office again, hiding out from his duties by disguising them as last minute studying and planning for the ceremony. 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet with Everlight the previous night, instead calling Seokjin only to discuss the plans for the supply run. He looked over the list of items Everlight needed in the apothecary, and only because the winter months were starting to fade away into spring meant this would be the last expensive trip until winter came again. 

Bees do not make honey in the winter, so why can’t he explain away the coincidence of the honey bourbon smell and the note written in Everlight’s scrawl next to the requested item underlined twice: Honey — we’ve been out for ages!! He doesn’t want to believe that he could be feeling this way for someone other than Everlight, but of two things he knows for sure: he smelled honey, and Everlight is distinctly NOT a honey smell. 

Seeing that on the list had Namjoon rise with a wild idea, to send the other Luna far, far away for the day, to help him clear his mind. In reality, he paces his office, wearing thin the once plush carpet with his worried steps until he can’t take it anymore. Crossing the room, he walks with such a force that no one dares to question where he’s off to. 

He knows where you live, knows that your Beta roommate Sana should be home, and when he knocks on the door with authority, he expects Sana to fling the door open so hastily that the movement sends the mixed scents of the apartment wafting out at him. Instantly, he expects his spine to straighten as his whole body is overwhelmed by the truth—except that never comes. No one is home, as a kind older woman politely points out to him after his third attempt at knocking. 

“Those girls went into town today, it seemed like the Luna had to drag Sana along with her,” she chuckled, clearly a pack member who was fond of the two women. “Did you want me to tell them you stopped by?”

“No! I mean—no need to worry them about my visit, I can talk to them tomorrow, thank you.”

He swiftly departs, deciding to just head home instead of back to the office for some peace.

“Joonie!”

Barely having set foot in his residence, Namjoon is bombarded with the irritating scent of laundry detergent. It’s too pungent; overwhelming in a way that he’s never experienced before. He catches himself before his nose wrinkles and Everlight ascends into his arms. He hugs her back, planting a soft kiss to the side of her head in an endearing manner before she pulls him into the dining room for an early dinner with his parents. 

Namjoon spends the evening engaged in conversation with his parents and Everlight, avoiding talks of the ceremony as best he can—despite his mother and girlfriend's best attempts. His dad eyes him warily—in that cunning way that only another Alpha can—sensing the change in the dynamics within the room. Namjoon is grateful his father remains quiet, simply watching the conversation over the nightcap of barrel-aged Cabernet Sauvignon from their cellar.

Once they call it a night and his parents disappear to their room, Everlight begs Namjoon to stay over, and unable to say no to the woman he’s never said no to before, he relents. He regrets this decision almost immediately, as his hopes that Everlight would help him take his mind off of the one thing that’s been at the forefront of it are crushed.   

“She’s just really good at healing. She knows a lot, like I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but she knows things that I don’t. And the things I have been able to teach her, she learns it so quickly and easily. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

Namjoon can tell; Everlight’s face is scrunched up in a way that makes her look unattractive, and he doesn’t know what to do or to say to make her feel less insecure. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing she is joining our pack. It’s important to learn and grow continuously.” It’s as diplomatic as he can be at the moment.

“Yes, but she’s trained as a Luna, just like me. It’s a little like she’s trying to take my spot. Yesterday, while I was teaching, the other girls asked her to teach them something I didn’t know, and I just had to stand there and let her take over my lesson. The girls were so focused on her and taking notes, it made me kind of hate her.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes trying to find something within his, but he looks away, reaching for the light next to his bed.

Everlight reaches for him, aligning her body to his as her fingers grip his shoulders so she can position herself atop him.

“That’s why I can’t wait for the ceremony, baby. We can finally be a true, mated pair. Start our forever, with me as your Luna. No room for confusion from the pack about who will bear your pups.” Her eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively as she lowers her lips to his plump ones. “We can practice now if you want, you can scent me, let all the bitches in heat know to back off.” She kisses him again. 

Namjoon kisses her back, but her laundry odor fills his nasal cavity and her words are so off-putting for the role she hopes to take on for the pack. He can feel her hands travel down his ribcage, but nothing about her touch turns him on. Pulling away from the kiss, he catches his breath as he readies his excuse.

“Babe, I think we should wait,” his large hands hold her shoulders firmly before his touch grows softer, palms smoothing up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “The ceremony is so soon, and I want it to be sacred…I know that might sound cheesy and un-Alpha-like but—”

“No, you’re right.” Everlight smiles softly at him, but he can see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed with all of the new pack members and the changes happening, I think I got a little over excited.”

“I love that about you, you know? You’re excitement over things, and how you want to be the best version of yourself for our pack. You’re already an amazing Luna in your own right.”

Everlight excuses herself to the bathroom, and Namjoon clambers off his bed, bare feet leading him towards his cracked bedroom window. In the light of the almost full moon, he can now see the noises that drew his attention moments ago: returning members of his pack walking down the path to their homes. 

There’s no mistaking it now. A warmth blooms from his groin, spreading higher until his neck grows hot from it as his nose and mouth feel thick with the sweetest bourbon honey scent. With you unaware of his gaze as you laugh with Seokjin and Sana, he feels jealousy boiling into his chest.

“Mine.”

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

You wake up late on Friday morning, your body a little stiff and sore. You feel as if you slept with a heater on, sleep clothes clinging to your body due to the sweat that covers your skin. You try to shake it off, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even after a cold shower.

You’re not surprised you woke up mid afternoon after arriving back at Highcrest near midnight, but you suppose the excitement of what’s to come will keep you awake the rest of the evening. You have to meet the elders for the pre-ceremony rituals at the start of moonrise, so you eat a light snack in the hopes it won’t trouble your stomach too much. 

You know now that Sana is right. Your heat will kick in no later than tomorrow afternoon, with the confirmation of the night sweating and soreness symptoms appearing today, but you worry about what it will mean if you end up not being chosen…you’ll begin cramping and sink into Omega-space, leaving you vulnerable to other higher ranking pack members without a plan prepared to get you through your heat.

At quarter till six, you leave your home with a small bag of items and head to city hall, where Elder Aline waits for you and the other Omegas who planned to join the ceremony to arrive. Elder Aline was old—she worked closely with the Luna three times removed was in power, and lived to prepare both of her successors, and now would be helping to prepare this ceremony. 

You hug your bag to your chest as the last of the group arrives: Everlight. She only looks slightly surprised to see you in the group of seven Omega’s, but she fixes her facial features quickly and offers you a bright smile. 

“I didn’t expect to see you in the group!” Everlight’s tone is friendly enough, but the undercurrent of her words screams out territorial.

“Oh, yeah, my roommate said I should come as an unmated Omega to take part in the ceremony. It’s different from our previous pack’s tradition, and if I hope to carry out my duties and help with future ceremonies, the best way to learn is to be part of it, right?”

Your answer makes sense, perfectly curated to help push away any questions that dig too deep into your motivations, including yourself. Part of you knew that it would be beneficial to you if the worst comes to fruition, but the other part, the more primitive part, knows the real reason is because the wolf inside of you longs for your mate to be Kim Namjoon.  

Elder Aline calls for your attention, her weathered voice a calming stillwater that acts as a soothing balm to the nervous energy in your chest. She speaks to the group, sharing some information about how the rest of the night will play out before she leads your small group towards the outskirts of Highcrest, to the south of a small lake on the edge of the forest. The walk takes a bit of time to navigate the terrain, especially with an Elder leading. 

You allow her moments to pause and rest, clearly fatigued from traipsing through high grasses and uneven dirt, but soon enough you are there, and placed along the treeline, a small clearing awaits you. She makes quick work of explaining the first ritual’s steps, and you allow her voice to lead you through the routine. 

The cleansing ritual itself takes the better part of an hour, as everyone planning to participate strips down to enter the water under the light of the moon which now grazes the top of the trees. A small pouch filled with herbs and petals is handed to each of you to rid you of any lingering outside scents. You lather your skin, taking the time to clean every inch before stepping out to air dry. It’s colder than you expected, but no one wants to risk masking their scent for the ceremony. 

The elder had laid a simple white dress on the shore of the lake near your bag, and once dry, you sheathed your body with it, happy for the fabric to provide some warmth. She pulls a thermos from her bag along with small cups.

“Purified under the new moon,” she intones, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Red azaleas, to pull out your emotions and attract your true mate.”

You sip it slowly, letting the heat warm your hands. The other women join you after the elder gives them each a cup, and you huddle in a circle, trying to stay warm.

“I think it’s good that we have so many of us for the ceremony,” Everlight speaks, her voice light and airy. “It would be a boring ceremony if I was here by myself.”

Her words were clearly chosen carefully, meant to sound like a compliment to the others for their company, while laying claim to the role not yet given to her by the moon. You bristle, feeling your body heat up. Her comments were starting to annoy you, because a true Luna was not insecure or haughty. She was a healer, a person that others could go to when they needed strength, compassion, or empathy. Everlight seemed to have forgotten this. 

“I think it is great that Highcrest’s tradition is different from ours, it feels more…pure.” You don’t know how else to describe it, but the act of having the alpha choose his mate through this ceremony feels like how it used to be. The elder hears you and her words confirm this. 

“This is the true ceremony. But come now, it is about time for us to begin.”

She leads you around to the north side of the lake. A small copse of trees had blocked the incoming sight, and now that you were closer, you could see the small gathering of pack members standing in a crescent.  

Directing you to step into the open space, she takes your cups from each of you as the seven of you line up with ample space between each other. You look around nervously. The cold you felt earlier when you were wet and naked exiting the lake was gone; you notice that you feel hot. You’ve felt hot since drinking the tea.

The crowd murmurs quietly to one another as you look around for Sana, finally finding her to the right near the top point of the moon shape they were standing in. She waves at you, a smile breaking across her face as she takes you in. 

All at once the noise in the forest dies out. The muttering follows suit, and Elder Aline steps before the crowd. 

“Before the great divide of the tribal lands, the Alpha’s mate was never set in stone until the ceremony was completed. Even if the Alpha had taken many lovers as a young pup, it matters not, for what the moon reveals is the truth. And an Alpha dare not disobey the moon, lest the pack fall weak.”

She then begins her tale of the history of the original tribe they descended from. 

“Many, many moons ago, we once existed as a proud and noble pack led by an Alpha of unmatched strength and wisdom named Lycaon. Under his reign, our pack thrived, united as one for the good of the group. We honored the ancient laws dictated by the phases of the moon, for we knew the moon's power was both a gift and a curse. Before the divide, we could shapeshift along with the phases of the moon.

But Lycaon, with his pride swelling within him like a thunderous storm cloud, began to question the moon's choice for his fated mate. He refused his fated Omega, instead choosing who he wanted, and not who our celestial goddess knew our pack needed. Ignoring the warnings of his most trusted Betas, Lycaon decided that his unborn son would also choose his own mate, not the moon.

At first, this defiance seemed to have no negative impact. But before long, cracks began to appear between pack members. By refusing the moon's guidance, the pack ended up with an Alpha-chosen Luna who was not prepared for her role. The rejected Luna fell melancholy, and took her own life, saying she could not watch the ruin of her pack. Some wolves found themselves unable to control their shifting, and began to attack their own kin in fits of madness. Other pack members grew weak—their bodies unable to withstand the impact of their dual nature.”

The entire crowd was enraptured hearing the tale, as Duskfall members did not know the history, and you are among them in learning the true history of the divide.

“As chaos descended upon our once-proud pack, Lycaon's authority waned as the full moon wanes. Desperate to maintain his grip on the pack, he resorted to ruling the pack with fear instead of respect. But his efforts only fueled the flames of discord, and soon, the pack was torn asunder by fights and betrayal.

In the aftermath of our pack's collapse, three new packs rose from the one, each led by a different wolf claiming to be the one true Alpha. They fought for the lands we stand upon today, with Lycaon’s son, Claudin, taking the hills to found Highcrest, and the other two packs fighting over the lower grounds.  Claudin knew that in order to reclaim the strength and glory we had lost, he must not allow pride or the greed for power seduce him into betraying the moon.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd. You knew your former packmates had the same thoughts running through their mind as you did—could this really be true? Was Alpha Tyvrin’s downfall predestined to happen in order to reunite the original pack? Elder Aline coughs, and you focus back on her.

“And so, this tale of Alpha Lycaon and our pack serves as a tale of caution for generations, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and the importance of respecting the ancient laws that govern our kind. Alpha Claudin rectified the treachery his father had done unto the moon, but we shall never shift again as punishment.”

A quiet settles upon the crowd, and the elder gestures to a group of children you didn’t notice before. They step towards each of you, and she asks you all to kneel. The small child before you has a face like a cherub, full cheeks pulled tight as he shows his teeth to you, eyes disappearing in his delight. 

He bequeaths a length of dark fabric, and his hands move so as to wrap the ends around your face, deftly knotting it behind your head. When you feel him step away, you stand back to full height. Your other senses are heightened, anxiety blossoming at what comes next. You hear footsteps, and sounds of awe and admiration sweep across the crowd stealing your nerves. You freeze in anticipation. 

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.”

Seconds tick by as you wait, eyes furiously trying to see through the thick material stealing your sight. Seconds turn into minutes and you can hear the faint rustling of bare feet traveling across the grass, the weighted foot falls accompanied by heavy inhales of the still air surrounding the area. You know the Alpha has entered the clearing—can feel a palpable shift in the energy as your body grows hotter by the second. His scent sings to you, and you whine lowly, wanting to follow it.

Again, the crowd responds to something unseen by you, this time it has your inner wolf crouching, tail down and ears back—showing submission. Another whine escapes you, a little louder this time. Your distress must be filling the area around you, you can sense the crowd’s movement, reacting to your scent. You begin to panic, fearing that a distressed scent would push the Alpha to choose another, not the scared, submissive and pathetically whining bitch in heat—

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon 

Namjoon walks up to the clearing surrounded by his closest advisors, some of whom had been absent patrolling the borders and securing their land the past several weeks, and returned in time for the ceremony. As he approaches, the sounds in the forest quickly fade, as if sensing his arrival.

He waits for his signal to enter the clearing, far enough away that he can only smell the crowd of his pack members standing between him and the clearing where the Omegas will stand. Namjoon spent all day in the forest, away from town preparing for the ritual by hunting for game to be used for the meal to feed his mate before the knotting. He also had to follow the same cleansing tradition, bathing under the light of the full moon, drinking the purified new moon tea, and dressing in loose, white linen pants.

He tried his best to clear his mind from the events of the previous evening, and once he was away from the bustle of the town square, he found it easier to convince himself it was just a fluke. After years of being with Everlight, the idea of being fully committed must have made him feel a bit scared, so he latched onto the idea of something new, someone different…you. 

Now, after his mindful afternoon in the forest, he knows he just has to trust the moon will lead him to Everlight, his mate. He knows her scent, knows it like he knows the taste of his mom’s cooking or the sound of his father’s favorite whiskey bottle opening.

As the moon climbs higher, he waits, steadily listening as the crowd quiets and Elder Aline speaks, recounting the tale of the original tribe. As she gets close to finishing her tale, Namjoon is tapped on the shoulder by Beta Taehyung, who motions to the blindfold in his hand. 

“It’s time, Alpha.”

Namjoon nods, taking the blindfold from the younger male and covering his dragon-shaped orbs. He fastens the knot, and he senses when another one of his trusted Betas approaches him. 

“I have the pouch here. Make sure to smell it deeply before—” 

Beta Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon. “I know, I know. Smell it deeply before I let my inner wolf out to track my mate.” He lifts an open palm so Jungkook can place the small, organza fabric reticule into his hand.

When he hears his name, he knows that’s his signal. He follows the sound of the elder’s voice to enter the clearing.

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.” 

Raising the small sack to clear his olfactory senses, he inhales a piece of his own clothing, a small handkerchief he kept on him all week. A trick using olfactory habituation to cleanse his palate from the surrounding smells, allowing him to only smell his mate. The crowd shifts, he can hear stilted murmurs about his physique being on display since he was shirtless as he walks past his pack. 

Stepping fully into the clearing, he inhales deeply, and instantly he picks up the laundry scent that he’s so used to being surrounded by. It’s definitely Everlight’s scent—he’s almost positive—but it has an edge to it, a slight tinge that he’s not used to smelling. The longer he stands there, the more the scent morphs into a cloying, headache inducing smell. It’s almost fake, a manufactured scent that doesn’t entice him. 

He steps away from the smell of it, noting an undercurrent of something nice. The crowd reacts, confused at his actions, but he doesn’t care. He knows he has to trust the moon. And that bourbon-honey scent? He wants more of that. Lifting the pouch again to his nose to rid it of the sickly sweet smell, he drops his hand after a few inhalations, allowing the soft honey smell to seep into his pores. It’s alluring, growing more seductive by the moment, but then it takes on the additional bitter scent of anxiety, and Namjoon worries that something is wrong. 

He can feel his inner wolf scratching to get closer, to protect, to save his mate—when he steps closer, the crowd reacts again, so he grabs at his blindfold, tearing it free so that he can get to you. He needs to calm you down, you need to feel safe, to know that your Alpha is here to protect you. He’s closer to you than expected, and the whine you let out calls to him in more ways than one. 

His body feels alight with flames, he can see you’re trembling. His hand moves without him thinking, gripping the blindfold and tugging it up and off your head. 

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon 

The light of the moon feels blinding as you blink to adjust your eyes to the sudden return of your sight before it’s eclipsed by the broad body of the Alpha. His breaths are almost frantic, a heavy panting that moves his shoulders with each exhalation as his wild eyes roam your face. His neck gland is hidden by a tied piece of cloth, masking his scent partially and you want to bury your face into him, seeking safety and comfort. 

Your body responds to his proximity almost immediately, a simultaneous calming of the mind’s anxiety as physically you feel engulfed in a blaze, a sweat finally breaking out along your hairline as you’re thrown into full heat. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he inhales you, his face looking triumphant as he kneels on one knee before you. He reaches for your hands, which tremble as he locks eyes with you. 

“Namjoon, what the hell?!” Everlight stands several omegas down from you, her face free of the blindfold, which now dangles from her fingertips at her side. She doesn’t move for a moment, not until she realizes the Alpha was not responding to her. Her steps don’t falter as she gets closer to you, but your scent grows sour as you take in the murderous look on her face.

Namjoon’s movements are quick and fluid. He stands and postures himself, keeping you protected behind him as he shoves Everlight back with one hand.

“Mine,” he growls. Everlight drops the blindfold, confusion blossoming upon her face. 

Namjoon turns to you, grasping your cheeks gently in his hands. “Mate.”

He throws his head back, and lets out a loud howl to the moon. 

Chaos ensues. The entire field grows loud as some pack members celebrate the ceremony’s success, while others gossip about the outcome. You can hear snippets of the conversations until another voice grows louder, shouting at the Alpha. It’s Everlight, your brain registers, she’s angry, her sour scent wafting in your direction as she screams. 

Some Betas you’ve never seen before hold her back, preventing her from coming closer to you and Namjoon. You back up, jostling into him, and the urge you had earlier grows so strong you don’t hold back. Jumping into his arms, you bury your nose into his neck, and you instantly melt against him, fatigued. Namjoon is startled but holds you tightly, and you can feel when he begins to walk swiftly away from the crowd.

You don’t question it, you just let your Alpha lead you to someplace safe. It takes a few minutes before you arrive at a small cottage, its windows lit with a soft glow. You recognize it for what it is—a mating cabin. Set far enough away from the town square that a newly mated Alpha and Luna can have alone time to get through the next few days. 

Namjoon sets you down, but doesn’t let you go. Opening the door, the first thing you see is a pack of water on the small wooden table. It’s one large room, like a studio with an open concept. There’s a small kitchen set up to the left, and straight ahead is a large bed. The sheets are clean and welcoming, and you can feel your body beginning to cramp as your heat kicks in. 

You knew it was coming—the low-grade fever, mild cramping, and more recently, increased slick and pheromone production ever since Namjoon touched you in the clearing. You shuffle, uncomfortable as slick leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh slowly.

You can hear Namjoon inhale sharply, before he’s kicking the door shut and grabbing you firmly. He doesn’t speak. His eyes say everything though, the adoration and lust sparkling in the low light in the room. 

“Alpha.” It’s a statement. It’s a request. 

His lips are on yours, devouring, tasting, suckling as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Honey. You taste like sweet bourbon infused honey…it’s intoxicating.” Namjoon kisses you again, this time his lips trail from yours to your neck. He teases you, teeth nipping at the skin as your thighs rub together seeking pleasure as he pulls sinful mewls from your throat. Your hands grip his upper arms, and you try to tug him towards the bed. You need him. You need his knot. 

“Please, Alpha,” you beg, and he shivers in your hold, aroused by your submissiveness. “Need you.”

Namjoon lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You grind against him, biting his bottom lip aggressively. You feel so hot—burning up—and he’s the only thing that can cure you from this growing pain. 

Your heat is in full swing, and you can tell it’s triggering your Alpha’s rut. He’s trying to hold back, be gentle and slow, but when you push your leaking core against him, he gives in. His hands fumble with the waistband of his linen pants before his heavy cock springs free, fully erect and searching for your entrance. You move your waist to help the angle of his cock, as one hand holds your hip and the other holds the base of his shaft to align himself. 

When the slight pressure on your slit gives, you thrust forward, forcing him inside you with ease thanks to your copious amounts of slick. You feel full, the head hitting in just the right spot. Attempting to create friction, you try to undulate your hips, but the resulting shockwaves from the tip meeting that sensitive spot causes you to clench around him. 

He freezes, feeling the quickening of your walls and you yelp in surprise when he throws you on the bed. The loss of him inside you feels unfair, but he steps out of his pants and soon crowds your body with his own as he climbs over your body. A firm hand presses into the middle of your upper back, before he grips your hips and pulls them upwards. The dress slides down, revealing your bare backside to him and you feel more than hear the growl he lets out. 

He leans against your body, ripping your dress up until you are able to slide the garment off your arms and throw it to the floor. A smack jolts you forward, but he adjusts you back into place. You feel his thumb drag over your slick covered folds, taunting you. 

“Alpha!” you whine, and he chuckles before realigning his length to your throbbing core. At this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, and he begins to rock his hips, thrust after thrust inside you. His large hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side. 

“Want to see that pretty face as you cum on my cock, want to hear you cry for me when you take my knot.” His low baritone promises you pleasure beyond your imagination. 

He licks up your spine, kissing and nuzzling into your neck, and you know it's the spot he wants to mark you at. You beg him to do it, but he just shakes his head against your skin. “Not yet, my love.”

He kisses you with every thrust he takes, before sitting up more to pin you down to the bed. His movements grow sharp, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks as he pounds into you. Switching up his movements, you can’t believe he fucks so well when he begins to rotate his hips and slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, drool leaking from your mouth onto the sheets as your legs shake. 

You clench again, involuntarily spasming every few seconds and you know you’re close—you tell him as much. 

“Fuck,” he curses, and you grip the bedsheets as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to your hips and he arches your back even more as he speeds up his own movements. They're fluid, your slick making it almost effortless for him to please you, to take you from behind like this until he’s so deep he could feel himself poking through your stomach—

“Take my knot, want you to have my pups, fuck—”he presses his hips flush to your ass, streams of his cum filling you up endlessly as your body wracks with euphoric release. You whine as you feel the intense pressure of his knot filling you before the pain of his marking bite overtakes your senses. 

You feel overwhelmed in a good way, pain giving way to pleasure as the bite seals your mated status and his knot begins to slowly deflate. Once able, Namjoon rolls you over to face him, nuzzling into you as you hold him close. Your heat was sated for the time being, but you knew that soon you would be climbing him once again to meet your needs. 

You wince as his nose grazes your fresh mark and he makes an apologetic face. Standing up from the bed, he grabs a bottle of water for you, twisting the cap off for you and proffering the drink. 

You take a full swallow, quenching the thirst you didn’t realize you had. Heats have a way of making you forget to take care of yourself in that way. The fatigue consumes you, and you drop back down to the bed. Namjoon takes the bottle from you and places it on the side table. His hands massage your calves, working his way along your thighs. His movements could put you to sleep, but you knew as well as he did that this reprieve would not last long. The moon shone through the window casting a faint glowing halo around Namjoon’s head.

He was yours. 

In the moon's tender glow, we're born anew,

The night's canvas echoes our ancient call,

Omegas and Betas, to their knees they fall,

For the Alpha, bound by destiny's fate.

To lead, to fight, to protect, to mate,

In lunar hours, gaze upon the sky,

Let Luna's wisdom be your guiding light,

Her soothing touch to mend wounds that cry.

When crescent rises, we shall rise as one,

Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2024. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

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[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jungkook x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.  inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up.

part one: the storm, the envelope and the granddaughter ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ next. masterlist

i. the storm

  for the first time in a long time, your eyes flutter open to the golden curtains of the sun and not the blaring noise of a royalty-free iphone alarm. the rays are harsh and welcoming all at once, as you blink away the stinging sensation and adjust to the muddy path ahead. there was no mistake about it, the town withstood an unforgiving storm last night. however, mud coating the wheels of your bus seemed to be the only indication, as you became distracted with the kiss of summer from the skies above and the clear cerulean painted across cotton candy clouds. 

  memories of amber valley became bygone over the years, as memories always do. but, amber valley seemed to be a long lost chase you haven’t won in years and the older you became, the town disappeared entirely. it was like the smell of your favourite scented markers and the feeling rumbling at the pit of your stomach on the first day of school - nothing but faint ideas from your childhood. 

  “we’re not going to visit grandpa this summer?”

  at age twelve, you couldn’t fathom missing out on the midsummer festival or being away from your horse, marshmallow. for that age, absolutely everything felt like the end of the world, whether it was missing an episode of your favourite show or not getting an invite to a classmate’s sleepover. it was a little different for you, though, as you looked at your dad’s dull eyes. they’d been dull since the divorce went through that february. they never shone since and that’s how you knew things weren’t going to be the same.

  he shook his head at you, but never met your eyes. “no, i’m sorry. he’s coming up for to the city at the end of july, though - “ it would be later in life, precisely at age 25 and months removed from your grandfather’s funeral, when you would learn that he only began coming up to the city to regularly see a hepatologist, “ - so you can see him on your birthday.”

  you did, in fact, see grandpa for your birthday and for the rest of the years to come. he laughed with his whole body and his smile never failed to reach his eyes when he gave you updates on the farm and amber valley. grandpa did his best, but time passing came with you losing your bright eyes whenever he spoke fondly of his town. it was inevitable, when the big city enveloped your teenage self and you became more concerned with interests that come with the turn of youth - clothes, parties and boys.

  now, there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of those ideas. you stood by this at heart, embracing femininity and defending it alongside your love for science and life. you grew up and began wearing high heels to dates, to university lectures and finally, to your 9-5 on the busiest corner of your city’s financial district. you had long outgrown your riding boots, likely tucked away at the back of your closet in your studio apartment. you began just politely smiling and nodding when your grandfather shared local amber valley gossip about individuals who were just names to you now, also tucked away at the back of your mind.

  even though you eventually grew past the age where you needed your parents’ permission to make the trek over to amber valley, past the period of time where your mother refused to speak to your father to coordinate your trip to see your grandfather, the idea of returning to the valley never crossed your mind. like summer camp, it was something you thought you didn’t need anymore and preferred spending your school-less months with your friends in your hometown, working away at your first part-time job and getting your first ever drivers’ license. a seventeen year old city girl wouldn’t want to waste her summer at her grandfather’s old farm.

  “mrs. oh’s husband just left the valley for his deployment overseas. may god watch over that family.” it was one of the last times you saw grandpa, late on christmas eve when everyone else went to bed. your mom, her new husband and your little sister had bade their goodnight’s by 10pm and left the two of you sipping honey lemon tea by the fireplace. 

  your mom’s new husband made a lot of money. that was one of the first things you noticed about him and it was so different from the two bedroom inner city apartment you were raised in. it was certainly different from your grandpa’s farmhouse, where the television only got three channels and all of the windows never fully opened because they would fall apart entirely if you pulled too far. you and your grandpa mused these thoughts on their white leather couch, when the conversation slowly moved back to how the old farm was going.

  you tried to sound interested. “oh really?” the reality was you couldn’t remember if the oh family was the one that ran the general store or the one couple who seemed to be constantly fighting, on the verge of divorce.

  grandpa grunted in response. “mhm. thankfully, they have jungkook helping out around the store. ah, the wasted potential with that boy, but such a kind heart.”

  “jungkook..?”

  “oh, you remember him! the two of you would always bike by the beach,” he said. “i’ll never forget, you two would always come back and show me the seashells you collected that day. always made a competition out of everything.”

  he chuckled and you joined in, hiding the despondence for being unable to recall. grandpa didn’t seem to notice, though, continuing to discuss amber valley. cranberries and pumpkins were the strongest crops of the fall, mayor kim was re-elected for a third time and something about the town soon getting their first chain convenience store since amber valley’s founding. then, grandpa’s face lost his smile and a serious expression formed on his ageing features. he asked you about your job and how life was for you.

  by now, you’re 22 and working an entry-level position with nothing but a bachelor’s in your pocket and a hunger to climb the corporate ranks. like any fresh college graduate, there was no meaning to life if it weren’t for paying overpriced rent, mimosa sundays, dating apps, and maybe remembering to go to the gym every now and then. the life you lived was loud from city traffic and heavy from looming student debt. 

  “my job is..okay. i’m just starting out and i’m really just trying to do my best,” you replied.

  grandpa, still with a serious look, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “it gets stressful, doesn’t it?”

  you opened your mouth to respond again, but failed to find your voice this time. your stress was found in a growing caffeine addiction and getting too tired to give your parents a call on the weekends. adulthood was everything you expected and nothing you expected. you secured a job that you dedicated four years of studies to and just like that, was pushed into a world of hustle and bustle and nothing in between. once this realization settled, you tried to hide it by cracking a faint smile. grandpa saw through it, though - he always did. 

  “well, darling, if it ever does get too stressful..” you became confused when grandpa reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. he handed it to you and you turned it over, finding no writing other than your name in your grandfather’s decorative penmanship.

  you asked, “what is this, grandpa?”

  he finally smiled again, but shook his head. “a gift. it’s yours for when you find that you need a break from the challenges of life.”

  grandpa only gave gifts from the heart. only, this time, you wouldn’t know that he was giving you his entire heart and soul. you had taken this envelope and slid it in the drawer of your desk at home, where you tirelessly worked after hours, even after returning from the office. it was hidden away, but always poked your curiosity at the back of your mind. however, you restrained from opening it, even when it eventually became one of the last things you had from grandpa. 

  ii. the envelope

the only time you took the pristine envelope out of your desk was on the day of his funeral. 

  it was no surprise that grandpa wanted to be buried in amber valley, his home for over fifty years and his birthplace. it was once your heart’s home, too, once upon a time when you were a child skipping rocks by the town river and rode your horse through mustard-hued sunflower fields. for that, you were nervous to return and confront the realities of your coming of age in the face of a town that only lived in your memories, sickeningly reminding you of the years that have gone past.

  wedged between your mother and father who had only began speaking to one another as of three years ago, you stared blankly at the onyx coffin that, in about 20 seconds, was gone from your sight and lowered into the ground. it happened all too quick. you clenched your arm tighter, squeezing the envelope tucked underneath and protecting it from the rain. your very last summer in the valley was marked by constant rain and wind and once again, you greet the town amidst storms.

  the drive was quick, having gone directly to service after the three hour drive from the city. you couldn’t make much of the town through the gloom and suddenly, the valley was so much colder than you remember. like your being since your grandfather’s passing, it lost its colour. it was unwelcoming and felt like a punishment for your neglect over the years. amber valley was unforgiving as much as it was perfection. 

  you couldn’t make out much of the attendees through the gloom, either. many of them appeared absolutely devastated, sobbing and cold-faced at the goodbye of a beloved neighbour. your grandfather was always well-liked amongst the townspeople, helping out his friends with mundane tasks whenever he had free time away from the farm and shared his warm personality at community events. this was affirmed through the stories that were shared about him at the service, recognizable for his distinct good heart, but seemed so far away for you, having detached yourself from amber valley.

  “oh, an unfamiliar face! what’s your name, dear?” a man around your father’s age with salt and pepper hair was handing out hor d'oeuvres at the post-service gathering in the church basement. he seemed to be the most upbeat one in the room - though, it wasn’t saying much, considering the occasion.

  you told him your name, while looking around for either one of your parents. being in a room of strangers wasn’t your favourite activity, especially following a funeral. the last thing you wanted to do was socialize, feeling like you weren’t even in your own body all day. while you were saddened and to an extent, numb, you knew your grandfather’s passing was coming up. his illness was going to catch up to him and you spent months mentally preparing yourself for the day you would have to say goodbye. despite not being surprised, your grief was accompanied by the painful nostalgia of the town that raised you in the summertime.

  the man looked at you, appearing to search your face for something. “you’re the old man’s granddaughter? bunny?”

  the nickname almost made you flinch, having not heard it in so long that you were surprised you recognized it. you began searching the man’s face, too, also looking for some signs of familiarity. for so many years of your childhood, you were almost exclusively called this nickname by adults and friends alike.

  there wasn’t room for a response when the man pulled over another individual by his sleeve, merely attempting to walk by in peace. this one was a man closer to your age and you were too distracted by the glisten of his facial piercings to scan for recognition. the second thing you noticed the adornment of tattoos peeked from below his sleeve and trailed onto his hands. the third and final thing you noticed about him was how gentle his hands were. this was realized because the sight of this man made you drop whatever was in your own hands in surprise.

  the only thing you were holding was your grandfather’s envelope, no longer pristine and stained with a few raindrops. you noticed that you had been clutching onto this keepsake the entire service. you bent down to reach for it, when he also attempted to make the save for you. your hands brushed and you looked up at his eyes, suddenly taken away by confusion.

  “jungkook, you remember bunny?” 

  you forgot the older man was in your presence, as he was the one who pulled jungkook over in the first place. jungkook. this was the little boy you spent hours running around with all those years ago. although you seemed to forget when your grandfather had last brought him up, those moments began to rain down on you upon taking sight of him for the first time in years. you had barely looked, but it hit you.

  jungkook handed the envelope over to you and you cleared your throat, standing up properly and trying not to wobble on your favourite high heels. he also stood up and seemed to mirror your confusion, not understanding who was the person in front of him. you muttered a thank you and fixed an imaginary snag on your cardigan.

  “i just go by my first name now,” you said through a tight smile to both men, still feeling like your gut was punched in after hearing the nickname that your grandpa coined,

  “oh, of course. you’re all grown up now!” the man exclaimed. “do you remember me? mr. kim?”

  the truth was that you didn’t remember him by face, but instead remembered that your father mentioned a man of this name being the mayor. if he was the same person, mr. kim’s father was the previous town mayor, as well, and was your grandfather’s best friend before his own untimely passing. given his larger than life presence, it was same to assume that the man in front of you was the tiny valley’s politician.

  “mayor kim, of course.” you hoped you sounded convincing.

  jungkook was still standing to the side, the same confused look etched on his face. “you’re the girl that tricked me into eating mud that one time?” he blurted, as if an imaginary lightblub flashed above his head

  that took you by surprise and you almost snorted. “i didn’t trick you, you just went for it.” the quick snap back also took you by surprise, having left behind a bit of your normal self in the city before coming down to the valley for the funeral, as well as your instant recollection.

  somehow, this memory was clear as day and you could remember jungkook as a seven year old with a horrible bowl cut and missing teeth. you wore light-up sneakers and candy bracelets that day, sitting on the porch of your grandfather’s farmhouse with him and were exchanging dares to see who would give up first. maybe that was why your grandpa said you two were - 

  “ - always competitive,” jungkook said.

  although the two of you surely shared countless more memories, it was this one that stood against the test of time and it showed when it immediately hit you with a laugh. it took jungkook a second, too, but he eventually gave in and joined with his own. you hadn’t realized it until his swollen eyes became crescents in his giggles, but he seemed to be having his own trouble of a day.

  “there it is, jungkook! nice to see you finally cheer up a bit,” mayor kim encouraged and jungkook’s chuckle immediately fell back to a straight face, almost intentionally. you suspected that this was not the first time today that mayor kim was on his case.

  before mayor kim could add on, his attention gravitated towards something at the other end of the room. he sighed and set down the hor d'oeuvres, checking the time on his wrist dressed with gold. 

  “oh, i’m being called over,” he sighed and turned back to you. “it was a pleasure seeing you again, i hope to see you around town before you have to go back to the city.”

  swiftly, mayor kim weaved his way through the crowd and just like that, it was just you and jungkook.

  you took this opportunity to give jungkook an actual once over, comparing it to the faint image you had of this man from when you were children. undeniably, he was handsome, but you were more concerned with the fact that this was still the little boy you spent your summers with. he grew into his face and you didn’t realize that you accidentally said this out loud.

  jungkook looked as much taken aback as he was amused. “oh, you got jokes, huh? that’s what you learned growing up in the city?” he teased.

  “i didn’t mean it like that - “ you started, but he waved you off with a laugh.

  the conversation was a bit overwhelming, considering you were still stuck in a church basement following your grandfather’s funeral service and could not locate your parents anywhere. jungkook recognized this in your face and eased into a sympathetic smile. somehow, you felt okay enough around him to drop your tense shoulders for the first time that day.

  “i’m sorry, i should be giving my condolences. your grandpa was a loved man by everyone here.”

  looking around the room, it was clear. everyone had shared fond stories and were making toasts in his honour. you felt out of place, but more so because you felt like you should have been joining in with the attendees. instead of being a kind of extended family that once saw you grow up, these people were strangers. you weren’t sure if anyone recognized you, having tried to lay low and not draw any attention to yourself. the only times you seemed to have caught anyone’s eye was when you were sat beside your parents at the burial, but no one dared approach you then.

  “you were like a son to him, too,” you offered. it was true, given the amount of time you spent with jungkook as a child, maybe even going so far to call him your best friend at one point. 

  he let out a long breath, eyes moving to the enlarged portrait of your grandfather propped up on the wall. “that’s nice of you to say. i miss him already. i’m sure you feel the same.”

  you learned quickly that, in light of your disappearance from your grandfather’s farm over the years, jungkook was the one who began helping out and taking over what were your old chores. your grandfather was physically able, but he kept the young boy around for company and made feeding the chickens an excuse to have his presence. hearing this made your heart drop, feeling an unknown sense of regret that you didn’t know existed when it came to the farm.

  “it’s not like that!” jungkook cut in, seeing the tears well up in your eyes. “he would always talk about the two of you going on adventures in the city and how he loved spending time with you whenever he came up to visit. he knew that’s where your heart was.”

  you sniffled a bit, having already promised yourself to limit your breakdowns to two that day, and took a second to reel it in. “sorry…i don’t mean to - “ you sighed. 

  “it’s okay. it’s weird being back here, huh?” 

  it was weird. it was so damn weird that the air of amber valley stuck with you for the months following, like bubblegum in your hair and a melody on loop in your head. you couldn’t shake it. not when you were working an extra 20 hours overtime in a week, not when you became stuck in traffic everyday, and especially not when your boyfriend of three years dumped you because you “changed” so much since the start of the year.

  and, it was true. you changed a lot since your conversation with your grandfather on christmas eve, with his words echoing about the stressors of life everyday. it opened your eyes to how much you were really struggling and it wasn’t simply you who had changed, but your outlook on life. ever since you were twelve years old, everything shifted to the fastlane and years breezed by you in the blink of an eye. everything moved so fast and you never got a chance to catch your breath. one moment, you were 15, sneaking a sip of your first ever drink, and the next, you were 24 and drinking straight out of the wine bottle on a tuesday evening. you wondered how you suddenly found yourself jaded at a 9-5 black hole of a job that sucked out your energy and passions. 

  these days made you think about what truly deserved your energy and what truly were your passions. did you like your everyday routine of gluing on false lashes and slipping on pantyhose? were you happy, alone in your apartment with not even a cat to talk to? your parents had their own worlds and new lives to deal with and long stopped asking why you never call. your friends were co-workers, having no time to meet anyone new. you didn’t even have time for hobbies, given how tired you were every time you finished work and the amount of overtime you did.

  one thursday night, you arrived home from work at 10:13pm and decided you had enough. it was constraining, nearly strangling you with exhaustion everyday. you spent the entire day wondering was “it” was and when you kicked off your loafers by your doorstep, it hit you. this was what your grandfather was talking about.

  almost walking with fear of what was to come, you creeped over to your desk. after your grandpa’s funeral, his envelope no longer lived underneath manila folders in your drawer, but found a place on the surface. you kept it there, as it mocked you every time you opened up your work laptop after hours. you didn’t realize why you left it in plain sight, until this moment when you came to terms with the fact that you were reminding yourself of him.

  “if you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. i’d lost sight of what mattered most in life. . . real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place where i truly belong.”

  it took you precisely two weeks to pack up your things after opening the envelope. nobody could convince you not to. your mother complained that you were wasting your degree and your father had concerns about the massive role you were about to take on all by yourself. it didn’t matter.

  two weeks later, you met amber valley and its sunlight for the first time in years, pretending that the storm ceased and the sun shone to welcome you back. 

  iii. the granddaughter

the sun faded quickly when you realized the bus dropped you off on a plain dirt road in the middle of nowhere. the movers took the rest of your belongings separately, so you were left with nothing but a duffel bag and a cell phone that couldn’t find any signal.

  “oops,” was all you could say. you didn’t think it was a crazy idea, that there would be service at the very least.

  it took you a few moments to let the situation settle in and for you to realize that you were abandoned in a place that was unfamiliar to you. was it unfamiliar? you looked around, seeing nothing but fields on fields and accepted that there was no way you could even try to remember where you were, even with the help of the maps app. you knew you made it to town, but you were certainly left at the farthest point of the borders. 

  and then, you heard it.

  it was over at least ten years since you last rode, but your ears perked up at the sound of a horse’s gallop naturally. you had to squint, but it was unmistakable.

  they were going in the other direction and they were going fast, so you had to think fast. you tried yelling and waving your arms, but quickly saw that it was useless. so, you dropped your bg and brought your hands to your mouth, releasing the loudest whistle that your vocal chords could handle.  

  the horse and its rider kept going and for a few seconds, you thought you lost hope. but, then, as you were about to pick up your bag in shame, you watched them take a wide turn back around. they were headed to you.

  you waved your arms back and forth again, affirming that you needed their attention. as they came closer, you could make out a figure of a man with chestnut brown hair peeking out underneath his cowboy hat. he wore medium wash, stained jeans and a plain white t-shirt. 

  “that was the loudest whistle i’ve ever heard,” he hollered, drawing closer to you.

  you shook your head bashfully. “didn’t even know i remembered how to do that.”

  “pretty sure the whole town heard. my name is namjoon, are you visiting someone here?”

  likely a few years older than you, you tried to recall someone named namjoon from your memories. his appearance didn’t ring a bell, so you were searching your brain for his name or if you heard it from somewhere.

  you told him your name and then squinted at him, pausing for several moments before speaking again. “are you. . .joonie?”  

his eyebrows shot up immediately, looking at you like he couldn’t understand what language you were speaking. “pardon me?”

  joonie. he was mayor kim’s eldest son, who was sent to a fancy arts camp every summer when you were younger. you only met him a few times throughout the years, as he often arrived back the same week you were due to leave your grandpa to go back to your parents, but one feature stuck in your mind always. his dimples. you thought you recognized namjoon’s polite smile and piecing it together with his name seemed to be the key. 

  “i’m pretty sure you’re mayor kim’s kid. i’m bad with faces, but you’re joonie, aren’t you?” the confidence in your voice was fuelled by the fact that no one really left amber valley. it was the kind of place where families would raise their children with the kids they grew up with themselves. 

  namjoon seemed to still be calculating your appearance in his head when you heard the faint noise of galloping once again. the two of you looked over to see another person on a horse who was looking around the field, likely looking for namjoon. the man in question brought his hand to his mouth and released a whistle similar to yours - though, you did gloat silently because yours was, in fact, louder.

  still, it was enough to get the person’s attention and they finally made eye contact with the two of you. they began approaching and you could make out that it was a man’s figure. still, even with how small of a town amber valley was, you were surprised to see who it was.

  “jungkook!”

  “namjoon, i just spent fucking 15 minutes looking for you - “

  you tried to keep your expression neutral when you saw that it was actually jungkook on the horse. he wore an all-black outfit of cargo pants and a wife beater tank that exposed his tattooed arms. it made it hard to keep your expression the same.

“oh, hey. did you come to collect something from your grandpa’s property?” jungkook suddenly ignored his previous frustration at namjoon, cleared his throat and dropped his voice by an octave, in addition to cutting his voice’s volume by a cool half. he swiftly hopped off his horse, too cleanly to be casual.

  namjoon’s confusion only doubled, darting eyes between the two of you. “sorry, have you guys met?” he didn’t miss the way that jungkook straightened his shoulders without even trying to be subtle.

  you missed it, though, having cut away your stare to double check if your phone managed to get any signal. none. sighing, you shook your head at jungkook, as he began explaining to namjoon.

  “ - we called her bunny. remember bunny?” he nudged towards you.

  namjoon looked back at you again and concern formed. “you’re the granddaughter. oh, you were at the funeral - i’m sorry about your loss. your grandpa was such a great person.”

  you put on the same tight smile every time someone mentioned him. the worst of the grief came back on some days, but you learned how to manage it day by day as time went on. jungkook watched you do so and cleared his throat.

  “the old bus stop is the worst,” he interrupted, gesturing towards the tiny sign that indicated that it was in service. “people get lost all the time when they arrive. well, we don’t really have a lot of people visiting by bus - “

  you couldn’t help but cut in. “i’m not visiting.”

  the two men gave you and your single chanel duffel bag a blank stare and wondered if the idea was so hard to believe. it was for your parents, who both thought you caught them on some sort of prank show when you told them about grandpa’s envelope. you were wearing platform mary janes and a leather skirt in the dead of the june sun, so maybe they had a reason to be confused.

  there was a moment of silence, so you decided to speak again. “yeah, i’m not visiting. um, i’ve decided to take over my grandfather’s farm. i’m moving to amber valley permanently.”

#jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts series #jungkook reaction #*** / the farmhouse.

[katnisspeetaprim]

Always, Us (Suchwita)

Min Yoongi/FemIdol!Reader Requests open!

Warnings: Established relationship, discussion of pregnancy and marriage, idol!au

Word Count: 1506 M.list

‘Today on suchwita, we have someone people have wanted for a long while.’ Yoongi addressed the cameras as you stood at the side, excitedly waiting for your cue. Since Yoongi started his show, fans had wanted you to make an appearance, but there was never a good enough reason for you to appear until now. You don’t know if the reason fans wanted you here because they genuinely liked you, or if they just wanted to be nosey about your relationship now that it was public. Either way, you were happy to do this for Yoongi.

‘It’s Y/N of the group Prima.’ He stood from his seat and welcomed you with a bow, before pulling your chair out for you. You feigned shock as you sat down.

‘This is how you know cameras are around. He’s acting like a gentleman.’

‘YAH! Don’t say that!’ He snorted with a laugh as he sat down opposite you. ‘I’m always kind.’

‘Sure if you say so.’

‘I’m sure you noticed I got your favourite alcohol here. I’ll keep it for myself if you carry on.’ He smirked, gesturing to the various colourful bottles on the table.

‘You wanna play that game?’  You challenged, leaning forwards with a smirk to match his own. Yoongi relented, leaning back and waving his hands with a smile.

‘Ok, we’re getting off topic and we haven’t even started yet.’ You also relaxed, but you knew you had won that round.

‘As I was aying, this is your favourite. Let me pour you a glass.’ You held out your glass and thanked him as he poured.

‘People have been curious about us since we went public right?’ You asked, getting right into why you were there.

‘Yes.’ He agreed, drinking from his own glass. ‘How did it feel for you to finally be open after having to hide it for so long?’ Yoongi had given you a brief run down of the kind of questions that would be asked the night before, so that you could prepare, though you didn’t want to just write and memorise a script, especially when it came to your love life. You wanted your words to be as natural as possible.

‘It felt good to not have to sneak around. I know you were relieved too.’ Yoongi nodded in agreement.

‘It made me feel like we were a couple of horny teenagers sneaking out at night.’ He laughed.

‘Oh yeah you’re right! But looking back I don’t know why we hid it so long. People have been shipping us since we first met pretty much.’ You smiled warmly, thinking back to when you posted a picture of yourself and a young trainee Yoongi onto your groups twitter account. Yoongi wasn’t well know back then, but your fans were curious about your connection to the young trainee.

‘Do you remember how we met?’ Yoongi asked, smoothly moving the conversation along. You didn’t answer right away. You looked down as a subtle blush spread across your cheeks as you thought of the memory.

‘Why are you blushing? Don’t get shy now!’ Yoongi laughed as he called you out.

‘Shut up.’ You mumbled, all in good fun.

‘Ok. I was late for rehearsal and I ended up barging into your guys room by accident.’ You cringe at that part. ‘ You all stared at me and I was so embarrassed, but you also offended me that day!!’ Yoongi raised his eyebrows questioningly. Had he really?

‘Yes!’ You exclaimed, making him a little nervous. ‘You didn’t know who I was! Even though I debuted like 2 years before that!’ Yoongi sighed in relief and rolled his eyes.

‘I told you before! I didn’t know many current groups back then! I was too busy trying to debut myself.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ You crossed your arms with a pout.

‘Why are you pressed about that still? It was over a decade ago!’

‘That’s not the point! I’m your senior so you should respect me!’ Yoongi choked out and exasperated laugh, before he addressed the crew.

‘do you see what I deal with on a daily basis?’

‘You see! This is what I mean.’ You laughed whilst gesturing towards him. ‘No respect...’ Yoongi shook his head, laughing at the interaction.

‘You know, my mom keeps asking me when we’re going to give her grand kids.’ You froze and internally cursed him for bringing up this topic. It’s not like you don’t want babies with him, it just never felt like the right time to try. Especially now with his military service coming up...

‘I always thought we’d try after your enlistment, but we never really discussed it....’ You confessed, feeling the energy of the room die slightly. You saw Yoongi’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your answer, but he covered it up by rubbing his face.

You weren’t lying when you said it hadn’t been talked about, so your answer definitely caught him off guard.

‘We also need to find time for a wedding.’ He played it off cooly, trying to move on with a joke. You frowned to yourself. His reaction was strange. This definitely needed more investigating.

The remainder of filming flew by. You’d managed to avoid any more awkwardness after that and put on a good show. You were fairly certain that part would be cut anyway. It may have been a little too personal to bring it up in that way in hindsight....

‘So, do you want to talk about what you said?’ Both you and Yoongi were sat in his car in the parking lot. You could get a lift from the company driver, but Yoongi proffered the freedom of being able to drive himself. ‘About having kids?’ He looked over to you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Looking down at your hands in your lap, you began to speak.

‘I meant what I said. I want kids with you, but I ... also don’t want to give up my career...’ You trailed off. He sucked in a breath at your words, but stayed silent. ‘I just said that about your enlistment because I didn’t know what else to say.’ You sniffled slightly, but you were determined to not get upset. Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your thigh and leaned across the console.

‘Hey. You won’t loose your career. You really think Bang PD would let you go after all these years?’ He spoke soothingly. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop a few tears escaping your eyes.

‘I know it’s stupid to think this way but-‘ Yoongi quickly shook his head.

‘Don’t talk like that. If you’re upset it’s not stupid, ok?’ He had now moved his hand to the back of your neck, rubbing calming circles into your skin. You slowly looked up at him to see him giving you a reassuring smile. You were unable to stop yourself from reaching up and pulling him into a hug, or as much as you could manage with the gear box between you.

‘I’m sorry I got upset.’ You mumbled into his neck. He craned his neck to place a kiss on the side of your head.

‘Nothing to be sorry for.’ You both stayed like that for a few relaxing moment as you calmed down. Pulling back, you wiped at your eyes before quickly pecking his lips.

‘We need to talk properly at some point, but right now I need you to take me home so I can stuff my face with ice cream.’ Yoongi broke out into his iconic gummy smile as he stared at you.

‘You must be feeling better if you can crack jokes. Now put your seatbelt on woman.’ Yoongi pulled out of the parking lot and started the journey home. You both sat in comfortable silence, only the sounds of the quiet radio played in the car. You thought back to the filming, when you suddenly remembered something he so casually said during the interview.

‘So...’ He glanced at you briefly, before looking back to the road. ‘What was that about a wedding?’  You smirked when he choked on his own spit and clearing his throat.

‘Ah yeah. That...’

‘You haven’t even proposed to me.’ You teased, hoping he might get a hint. Yoongi fully looked at you when he pulled up to a traffic light, smile tugging at his lips.

‘Do you want me to?’

‘I certainly wouldn’t be oppose to the idea!’ You both sent coy smiles to each other and that was that. Conversation over.’ The two of you didn’t need to get married to know you loved each other, but having said that...

And thus, a few weeks later, Korea woke to the news that you and Yoongi had secretly eloped and made your marriage official.

You had a lot of explaining to do to your parents, but you got out of it by promising that you would have a ‘proper’ ceremony at a later date. For now though, you were both content with how things were.

#bts #bts x reader #imagine #one shot #scenario #drabble #reaction #smut #angst #fluff #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #idol!au #Request

[thebangtancloud]

Hi! Can you do part 2 to the “they can’t find you after a fight” reaction? Love your writings 💖

He can't find you after asking you to leave during an argument (part 2) ~ BTS Reactions

Genre: Angst, Fluff

A/n: Some won't have happy endings, just a heads up :)Alsooo I TOTALLY got carried away and wrote too much lol, enjoy!

← Part 1 // BTS Reactions // Masterlist

Kim Namjoon:

Namjoon released a sigh of relief the moment his eyes landed on your figure not too far away from him, jogging up to you and frowning when you didn't look up at him.

"Why did you leave?" Namjoon huffed, wiping his brown and sitting down beside you on the pavement. His leg extended across the road, slipping his hand into his pocket to take your phone out.

"You even left this behind, you scared the shit out of me, (Y/n)."

You looked across at the passing cars without responding, the flashing lights occasionally illuminating your face and making the tears in your eyes visible to Namjoon.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Namjoon whispered under his breath. "I really am. Would you please look at me?"

Namjoon tentatively poked a finger into your forearm, testing the waters to see if you'd react badly. When you didn't, Namjoon delicately slipped his hand into your palm and ran his thumb over the skin of your wrist.

"I'm really sorry. I was being such a jerk."

When a lone tear rolled down the side of your face, Namjoon looked pained. He reached up and wiped it away with the back of his hand, giving it a few more swipes when he accidentally got some of the dirt that was on his hand onto your skin.

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

You breathed out shakily, dropping your gaze and looking down. When Namjoon shuffled closer to you, a tear in his jeans caught your attention.

"What's this?" You reached for the material over his knee. Namjoon quickly jerked away in panic, letting go of your hand and holding it over his knee.

"Nothing," he squeaked, clearing his throat and repeating it again.

"Show me," you placed your hand over his, tugging it away from his jeans. You tenderly touched the denim material that was darkened with dirt and mud, not missing the wince that came from him when you pulled it away from his skin.

"Did you fall?" You looked up into his eyes through the darkness of the night.

"No?"

"Don't lie to me," you snapped, losing your patience. You unlocked your phone to turn the torch on but his warm hand that covered yours stopped you.

"Don't see it."

"Namjoon," you tried to convince him. "Show me."

"No. I've hurt you enough already." Namjoon swallowed thickly, taking your phone away from you and pushing it back into his pocket.

"Seeing how bad it is won't hurt me, Namjoon."

"You sure about that?" He quipped, giving you a pointed look. You sighed, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"At least tell me what happened."

"I fell for you, again," he smirked to himself when you clicked your tongue, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"Does it hurt?" You placed two delicate fingers over his thigh, frightened that you'd hurt him.

"A little, not as much as I hurt you, though."

"Right," you scoffed under your breath. "You did hurt me."

Namjoon nodded sadly. "I'm really sorry, baby. I didn't even take a moment to think about what you might've been feeling, that was really bad of me. I'm sorry for all the shit I told you."

"It's alri-"

"I'm sorry for asking you to leave the car. That was very low of me. It wasn't safe and I still let you go. I'm sorry."

"It's okay now," you sighed tiredly. "I knew you needed your time to calm down, so I let you be. I also know that you're genuinely sorry, so it's fine now. Let's just go home."

"At times like this, I wish I passed that stupid driving test," he mumbled under his breath. "I can't even drive you back home like a proper boyfriend should."

You snorted, standing up and holding a hand out for him to take.

"I'll teach you how to drive. Because if this ever happens again, I won't be sitting just a few minutes away from you. You'll need a car to find me, then."

"I'll just stick to running."

You gasped at his words.

"Are you saying that this could happen aga-"

Namjoon quickly covered your mouth with his hand, pushing you in the direction of the car.

"No. It's never happening again. Nope."

Kim Seokjin: (sunburnt Seokjin on demand)

Seokjin felt lightheaded, coming to a stop under a tree and holding a palm over his head.

"Holy shit," he gasped, pushing his fingers into his eyes that were burning. "Why is it so hot?"

Turning to see if he could sit down somewhere for a while, he paused when he caught sight of someone wearing the same shirt that you had worn. Blinking a few times, Seokjin let out a tiny scream, stomping his foot on the ground and looking back at you again.

"At least she's safe," he grumbled, making a run for it and wincing when a drop of sweat slipped into his right eye.

You jumped in surprise when the door of the little shop slammed open, the three heads that were peacefully eating their noodles all turning to look at the source of the noise.

"Looks like you're having fun, huh?" Seokjin exhaled, holding onto the last bit of his anger before deflating into a sigh and shaking his head.

"Why weren't you answering my calls?"

"I didn't want to," you shrugged, picking up your raspberry crush and taking a long sip. "Why were you calling me anyway? I was tempted to just answer and tell you to shut up."

"You should've," Seokjin complained, walking over to sit across from you. You quickly raised your feet from under the table, crossing them and placing them over the cushioned seat that he was going to sit on.

He looked up at you in disbelief.

"Go sit somewhere else."

"Is your name written on this seat that you're not letting me sit?" He sassed, placing the carton of ORS and the chocolate that he had been carrying all this time on the table.

"Actually it is," you took another sip before pointing at the seat. "Look closely."

Seokjin swallowed thickly at the sight of the icy refreshment in your hand, tempted to take it from you and drink the rest of it. Reluctantly detaching his gaze from the glass, Seokjin looked down at the seat to see a tissue placed over it with the words 'Seat reserved for people who are not jerks.'

"Pfft-" Seokjin scoffed, widening his eyes and looking at you like you had grown an extra head. "What the hell?"

"It is what it is, get out. Oh- thank you so much," you bowed gratefully at the old lady who waddled over with a plate of pasta and a warm smile. "This smells delicious."

"Eat well, and don't faint again, okay? I'll get you another juice."

Seokjin's eyes grew twice in size, his head snapping back to you when the lady walked away.

"You fainted?!"

"Not really," you rolled your eyes. "I told her to say that in front of you so that you'd feel like shit."

"You'd never admit that to me if you really did that, (Y/n)," he placed a hand over his hip. "Did you faint?"

"I didn't," you picked up your fork, avoiding his eye. Seokjin breathed out through his nose, taking a step towards you before pushing you further in and sitting beside you.

"Did you faint? I'm asking you for the last time."

"Oh?" your eyebrows raised at his words. "What will you do if I don't tell you? Kick me out of this restaurant?"

"You-" Seokjin resisted the urge to reach for your throat. "Just tell me if you fainted, (Y/n)."

"What will you do if I tell you that I did?" You picked up a lovely amount of the pasta, opening your mouth to take a big bite. Seokjin's eyes followed your movements, silently cursing himself when you sighed at the taste of the pasta.

"You fainted, didn't you?"

"Just for a moment," you mumbled with your mouth full. Seokjin reached for a tissue when he saw the sauce drip down from the side of your mouth, but you wiped it away before he could.

"I walked in here and wanted to ask for a drink, but I fell before I could reach the counter. That old lady helped me up."

"How do you feel right now?" Seokjin bit his lip guiltily.

"I'm fine," you shrugged, "It's been almost half an hour, and I've already had a few sweet things, so I'm alright now."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking down into his lap. "It didn't even strike me that you left without eating. I know how weak you get."

"I left?" you rolled your eyes. "You kicked me out."

"(Y/n)," Seokjin whined, looking away and brushing his hair out of his face. "I'm sorry, I really am. I almost died three deaths while trying to find you."

"You shouldn't have come looking for me," you took another bite of the pasta. "I'd be fine without you."

"But-"

"Actually," you held a hand up in the air. "You'd be fine without me."

"No." He shook his head firmly. "I'm not fine without you. I'm never fine without you."

The corner of your mouth lifted into a smirk, but you hid it by looking back at your plate. "I'd actually love to fight you on that, but I can see that you're not fine without me."

"Huh?"

You laughed lightly when your hand touched the flaming red skin of his forearm. "Poor thing, that probably burned a lot."

Seokjin rolled his eyes, brushing your hand away and taking your glass to finally quench his thirst.

"I went through shit and you're enjoying here."

You shrugged casually, taking the glass back from him before he could finish your juice. "I went through shit too. It's only fair that you get tortured in the heat that you kicked me out into."

"You really have a way of making me feel like I'm the worst husband in the world," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you?"

He grew silent, looking into your eyes that were glassing over with unshed tears.

"I am," he admitted regretfully in a low whisper. "I treated you like shit. I don't even deserve to be your- umph!"

Seokjin almost choked when you shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, eyes widening in surprise before trying to fit it all into his mouth. You took the tissue that was already in his hand, waiting for him to fit the rest of the pasta in before forcefully wiping at his lips, making him wince in pain.

"You deserve this much, but don't speak the rubbish that you were about to say."

Seokjin nodded, biting slowly and touching the side of his mouth that was burning.

"Sorry."

"You better be."

Min Yoongi:

It was almost like Yoongi was in someplace he'd probably go to once he'd die; white curtains, the sound of waves from outside the balcony, white walls with little butterflies, and a plain pair of white and black pajamas. He didn't know if he was dreaming, but there was something peaceful about the atmosphere, almost as if he was finally at home.

With you.

The thought made his eyes flutter open, instinctively turning his head to see if you really were there with him. But they landed on the empty spot beside him on the bed.

You weren't there.

Yoongi had somehow gotten used to the fluffy pillow with a lavender case. It reminded him of you. It smelt just like you. It felt like you.

Yoongi wasn't sure if it was normal to personify a pillow the way that he did. He treated it like it was you, live and with him, comforting him when he needs it the most, accompanying him when he felt lonely.

His fingers reached for the pillow again, the flowery scent drawing a deep sigh from the man.

You weren't there.

You hadn't been for the past six days.

Yoongi had begun to wonder if your absence in his life was a hallucination because oddly enough, he didn't hurt as much as he thought it would hurt. It's like you were right there. Somewhere. He couldn't know for sure, but his heart had begun to settle into a peaceful pace.

His soul yearned for you. It made him feel your presence even though his mind knew that you weren't there. It made him hear the uplift of your voice each time you spoke to him. It made him visualize the glistening twinkle in your eye when you gazed up into his own red ones.

He felt you, but he knew you weren't there.

Yoongi couldn't blame you for not showing up. No, he'd never do that. It was entirely his fault, and it took a mere gulp to swallow down his pride and admit that he was wrong.

After that night, Yoongi stopped contacting you. He wondered if you were doing fine, he wondered if you'd been eating your meals on time and if you'd been drinking enough water to keep yourself hydrated.

He wondered if you missed him.

He wondered if you knew how much he missed you.

Perhaps you did... because a knock was all it took for Yoongi to step out of his dreamland and tremble with fear.

"(Y/n)?"

You stood behind the door, holding the handle and pulling forcefully so that he wouldn't open the door. You just needed him to hear what you had to say. You couldn't face him just yet.

"Yoongi," he heard a broken whisper, muffled and soft from the other side of the door.

His own hand shivered as it held onto the handle, giving up trying to open it once he knew what you were trying to do.

"I just needed to hear your voice once before I left."

"Don't go."

Yoongi could feel his heart racing, the blood rushing to his ears, a lone sorrowful tear sliding down his pale cheek.

"Don't go," he repeated.

"I must," he heard you say. "I can't stay here any longer."

"Let me see you once," he pleaded. "Please, just once."

He wasn't sure if you'd already left, because all he got in response was silence.

His breathing fell into a shallow and rapid pace, panicked tears now falling faster than he could control.

"(Y/n)?"

With a little leap that his heart took, Yoongi pushed the handle down, a little cry leaving him when he couldn't feel the force that you had once kept on the handle from the other side. Fearful that he wouldn't see you when he'd open the door, Yoongi stayed frozen with his hand clenched around the handle of the door.

"Let me see you once," he whispered to himself, resting his forehead on the wood. "Please."

It was useless opening the door a few minutes later. You wouldn't have waited. You had probably left the apartment complex and gotten a cab for yourself.

He waited too long. He let himself drown in his own sorrow for too long.

But you had waited longer.

You always did.

Yoongi lost the ability to breath on his own the moment his eyes landed on you.

You'd stayed.

Yoongi felt as though his eyes met yours for a fleeting second, but the burn in his eyes let him know that he'd been staring at you for much longer than he thought.

"Can I hold you?"

Yoongi knew he was testing the limits. He'd been too greedy, too demanding of things when it came to you. But if this was the last of what he'd get to see of you, he could allow himself to be a little more greedy.

"One last time," he breathed out. "Please."

And maybe it had been a dream all along because the scent of your hair had been the same he'd gotten used to. Your skin was soft, just like the pillow that he'd been accustomed to falling asleep with.

Yoongi wasn't sure if the image of you in his arms was one he'd been creating in his mind or if it was real, but if he got the chance to hold you against his chest for the last time, he wouldn't let go of it.

He couldn't let go of you.

"I love you."

Jung Hoseok:

"Hoseok,"

"Ugh," the distraught man buried, his head further into the mattress, covering both of his ears and shaking his head vigorously.

"Stop. Stop. Please stop."

"Hoseok,"

"Stop!"

Hoseok pulled his knees further up against his chest, his arms trembling and eyes already shedding tears.

"You're not here, but why can I hear you? Please stop. Please!"

"Hoseok-ah!"

Hoseok grew silent, finally snapping back to reality at the sound of Seokjin's voice.

"Get up! (Y/n)'s here."

"What?" Hoseok immediately scrambled out of the bed, messily pulling his pants back into place and smoothening out his hair.

"What do you mean she's here? Where's she?"

Seokjin looked disappointed, looking back at the bed with a slight shake of his head.

"She's still outside. She's refusing to come in."

"What?"

Hoseok didn't give Seokjin any more time to respond before he was making his way through the bedroom door, frantic hands wiping at his tears and using the inside of his shirt to wipe away the saliva that had dried around his lips.

Taking in a deep breath, Hoseok's hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob, twisting it and opening it with a racing heart.

"(Y/n)," Hoseok breathed out at the sight of you in front of him. "I've missed you."

You looked across at the man who stood before you with a light frown. Hoseok gazed at you desperately with puffy eyes and twitching hands, wanting to just reach out to you and hold you.

"Hoseok," you trailed off, looking away and swallowing thickly. "I don't think I can be with you anymore."

"What?" Hoseok felt like he couldn't breathe, his chest tight and jaw falling open. "Why?"

"I can't be with you."

"(Y/n)," he took a desperate step in your direction, his heart physically hurting when you took one step away from him. "Please, you know I was just angry, let's work this out, please."

"I'm sorry, Hoseok," you mumbled under your breath. "I can't do that. I can't hold on anymore, I don't have the strength to fight for us anymore."

"Then let me!" Hoseok boldly took a hold of your hand. "Let me fight for us, please. Just give me one chance to show you how much I love you, one chance to prove to you that I didn't mean anything I said that night. Please!"

"Hoseok," you murmured, looking away and sighing. "I can't just get over what you told me, it has scarred me."

"I'm so sorry," he dreadfully rushed, hoping that you wouldn't just kick him as a reflex when he wrapped his arms around you.

"You know how I get, baby, please," he murmured into your hair.

"I was being an ass, and yes, I deserve to be broken up with, I deserve all of this, but please, please don't. I can't live without you."

You tried your hardest to not react to his words, but when a tear fell onto your shoulder, something tugged at your heart. You didn't want to give in so easily, you couldn't. You weren't so weak.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," he vowed, pulling away and holding your face tenderly within his palms. "Please give me a chance to show you how much I regret doing what I did that day."

"Hobi," you finally exhaled, looking down at your feet. "Truth be told, I want to be with you too, I love you... but I need some time away, can you give me that?"

"Where do you want to go?" he inquired, sniffling hard and tucking your hair behind your ear. "Hmm? Tell me, I'll take you there."

"Hobi, no..." you shook your head. "I need some time away from you."

"Oh," he blinked, nodding a little after that. "Yeah, no problem, take all the time you need, as long as you come back to me. You'll come back right?"

For the first time that evening, your eyes glossed over with tears.

"I can't let you go otherwise," he decided with a firm nod of his head. "I can't risk losing you. I'll let you pull my hair out and kick me out ten times but I'll still stick to you like a leech."

"Right," you rolled your eyes. "I don't need that."

"But I need you."

"Hobi," you whined, pushing him away from you. "I didn't come here for this. I just need you to know that I'm going away for a while."

"But you're coming back right?"

You clicked your tongue, huffing in exasperation and looking back at the door.

"You're being annoying."

"I know," he easily accepted. "But I can't let you go if you're not coming back. No."

"Okay okay fine," you threw your hands up in defeat. "God, you never let me even scare you the way you've scared me."

"You have no idea how scared I am right now," Hoseok admitted.

"I'm sorry, baby. For everything. I really am, I don't know how to prove it to you. I'll let you go, if that's what you need, but I just need you to come back to me. Please, don't give up on us. Not because of how much of an ass I've been. Please."

"Ugh," you groaned in conflict, covering your eyes with both of your hands.

"Okay, fine. I'll come back. That was the plan anyway, I just came here to tell you about it."

"Promise?" Hoseok held his little finger up in the air. You looked at it for a moment before laughing dryly and interlinking your pinky with his.

"Yeah, I promise."

Park Jimin:

"I knew I'd find you here."

You turned to look back at Jimin who stood by the entrance of the church, a bouquet of white roses in his hand. Jimin stood still for just a moment, letting his eyes run over your form before he began to walk towards you timidly.

"Why are you here, Jimin?"

"I came to look for you," he murmured gently, choosing not to sit and instead knelt before you. You looked into his eyes, blinking away your tears and looking back at the alter in pain.

"I want to be alone."

"You've been alone for too long," Jimin whispered, placing the flowers in your lap and looking down at his fingers in regret. "I'm sorry I've left you alone."

"Where is-"

"She's sleeping at your friend's place. Safe, don't worry."

You nodded, breathing in deeply and looking down at the roses.

"When we were here a few years ago, I promised to stand by your side throughout everything. I'm sorry that I failed to do that."

Your eyes flitted up to the empty space before the altar, a red carpet that was once lined with white roses on the day of your wedding pulling a sigh from you.

"I've failed in many ways, and I want to thank you for never making me feel bad about it, even though I should. I deserve to be yelled at, I deserve to be insulted for the way I've been treating you and our daughter, but the one time that you tried to show me just how wrong I've been, I hurt you instead."

"Jimin..."

"I know," he whispered. "I've thought over everything you've said. Everything. You're right. You're right in every way and I'm sorry for not realizing that."

"It's not about who's right and wrong, Jimin," you shook your head. "I just want you to be there."

Jimin swallowed thickly, nodding and quickly looking down to hide the tear that slipped past his eyelid.

"I know, I'm sorry."

You sighed, looking up and closing your eyes.

"I don't know what else to say, Jimin."

"You don't need to say anything," Jimin wiped his cheek when he saw that you weren't looking. "You don't even need to forgive me. I'll work for it. I'll be there, for both of you. I'll show you."

You finally looked into the eyes of your husband, reaching a hand for him and tenderly touching the back of his hand.

"That's all I need."

"I want to give you more than just what you need, dear," Jimin looked down at the ring on your finger. "I also want to give you everything you want. Everything you want but never say."

"It's alright, Jimin," you shook your head. "We don't live in a fantasy world. Having you is all that I need - all that I want."

"I had also promised to treat you like a queen," Jimin turned to look back at the altar. "Not just any queen. My queen. I promised to make you smile over little things for no reason at all and I've failed at doing that too."

"You haven't been smiling much either."

"We'll talk about me later," Jimin insisted. "I've promised you the happiness that I failed to give you. I'm sorry."

"Jimin," you chuckled dryly. "You're making me feel bad now."

"Why?" He searched your eyes for an answer. "You don't need to feel bad, that's my job for now."

"It isn't anyone's job to feel bad," you reminded him. "Let's work through this and just get back to being happy again, Jimin."

"Okay," he nodded, straightening up and reaching for your other hand. "I'll make you happy, I promise."

You smiled softly at him, nodding a little. "Okay."

You noticed a little sparkly in Jimin's eye that you hadn't seen before, but before you could ask him, Jimin touched the side of your face as softly as he could.

"Will you dance with me?"

"Right now?"

"It's raining outside."

You turned to look outside the door, a tiny smile growing on your face at the memory of having your first dance with Jimin in the rain.

"Come," Jimin stood, holding your hand and guiding you up. You barely had a moment to place the flowers down before you were tugged towards the door, little joyous giggles pouring out of Jimin's chest when he ran out with you right behind him.

"Ah," you gasped at the cold droplets of rain that hit your skin, squinting and looking across at Jimin who was already looking at you with a grin.

"Dance with me?"

You looked at his palm that was extended out to you, slipping your fingers into his hand with a firm nod.

"I'd love to."

Kim Taehyung:

"What a sight to behold."

Taehyung's hand froze mid-air, the sound of your voice instantly bringing tears to his eyes.

"The Kim Taehyung is making coffee for himself."

"(Y/n)," Taehyung whispered in disbelief, dropping the spoon onto the counter and rushing towards you. His hand circled behind your head, tenderly holding you right up against him, his chest trembling as he tried not to ugly cry right into your shoulder.

"I thought you left."

"You left me, Taehyung," you reminded him with a muffled voice, turning your head a little so that you could breathe better. Gently resting your cheek against his collarbone, you repeated your words again.

"You left me."

"I'm sorry," he blubbered, inhaling sharply and wiping away his tears with one hand, never once leaving you. "I'm so sorry, that was so stupid of me, I'm so sorry."

Sighed softly, you nodded, finally letting your walls down and taking a hold of his sweater to pull him even closer.

"What you did really hurt me, but I told you then - and I'm telling you now - we have a lot of time to work this out."

"I just don't ever want you to leave," he admitted in a broken whisper. "The thought that you'll be moving away from me scared me to death."

"My little dummy," you cooed, pulling away and lightly hitting the side of his head. "You're too rich to even think of what I had in mind, silly."

"What?" he sniffled. "What does that mean?"

"Shall we sit and talk first? My feet are killing me."

"Oh- yeah yeah, come." Taehyung gripped your elbow, pulling you towards the couch before walking to the corner, disconnecting the lamp and putting it on the floor so that he could lift the little table and bring it for you to place your feet on.

"Here," he put a cushion beneath your feet, lifting both of them up and adjusting it so that you'd be comfortable. "Better?"

"Mhm," you nodded. "Come sit next to me."

Taehyung plopped down beside you, instantly reaching for your hand and pulling it into his lap, holding it as if you'd disappear any moment.

"To be honest," you began, "The moment I bought the house, you were the first person I wanted to tell. I really expected you to be on top of the world. I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I am..." Taehyung trailed off. "But I thought you were being dismissive of our relationship."

"Exactly. When you reacted badly, I got so upset, I immediately built these walls around me, you know?" You looked up into Taehyung's eyes, hoping that he was following you.

"You were the one person I wanted to share my happiness with but when I didn't see you being happy, that made me really upset. So in the heat of the moment, I let my mouth run too."

"How?" Taehyung wondered.

"I didn't mean it when I said that you were stopping me from living my dreams," you sighed sadly. "I guess I just wanted to hurt you at that moment the way you hurt me. I know you always want the best for me, I really do. I'm sorry I said that."

"Baby," Taehyung shook his head. "I'm not even bothered about that. If I'm being honest, I don't even remember the fight, all I could think of was that you left and I didn't get to even hold you once."

You chuckled light-heartedly. "I'm glad you don't remember it, but this is what caused the fight anyway- or rather the part where you kicked me out of your car."

"Shit," he looked away and cursed under his breath. "It sounds so much worse when I hear you say that."

"It was horrible," you nodded. "I didn't even know where I was at that time, but coming back to the point - you told me to leave only when I said that you were stopping me from living my dreams. So I understand where you're coming from."

"You're not supposed to be this understanding," Taehyung frowned sadly. "You're supposed to be mad at me and yell at me for kicking you out of my car. That was the cheapest thing I could've ever done. Shit- I'm so sorry."

"Oh, stop already," you waved him off. "What's done is done, we can't go back in time and make you not kick me out of the car, can we?"

Taehyung's lips pursed into a tight line.

"What I actually wanted to tell you was that me buying that house has a whole different purpose. Sure, I was angry and shit and I just kept telling you things that weren't true, so excuse me for that. The real reason why I bought that house is because it's an excellent investment."

"I know," Taehyung nodded in understanding. "When I explained this situation to Yoongi hyung, he told me the same thing."

"You spoke to Yoongi?"

"Who do you think told me to make the coffee?"

"Yoongi asked you to make coffee?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "He said since I hate it so much, at least it would distract me from the guilt of kicking you out of the car. And something along the lines of, 'you might even begin to like coffee,' and blah blah blah."

"Right," you chuckled. "Yoongi can't understand why you don't like coffee."

"It tastes like ass."

"How do you know what ass tastes like?"

Taehyung smirked, shrugging and choosing not to reply.

"Right- so the investment," you continued. "I have something under my name now, and the apartment is in a residential complex that's literally in the center of the city, which means that the value of the flat will increase in a few years."

"I know," Taehyung repeated. "Yoongi hyung told me everything, so you don't need to explain, okay?"

"Taehyung," you patted his thigh to get him to listen to you. "My point is that I don't need to live there."

His eyebrows raised in wonder. "Really?"

"I'll probably put that flat up for rent soon, that's what I've been meaning to say."

"Oh," he trailed off with a distracted nod, "I didn't even think about that."

"It really hurt my heart when you told me that I wasn't thinking about us, Tae," you tenderly ran your thumb over his knuckles. "I'm sorry I made you feel like I wasn't thinking about us."

"Aye," Taehyung waved his hand in the air like it was no big deal. "I was just scared, that's all. Don't stress about it."

"I should," you pressed. "No one should make their partner feel that way. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Jagiya," Taehyung lifted your hand so that he could place a tiny kiss on the back of your hand. "I hurt you as well. Probably much more than you think you've hurt me."

"It's okay now," you chuckled lightly. "I'm fine, as long as I'm with you."

"Surprisingly, I'm fine too. I'm so happy you're back home, with me. That's all I've ever wanted, all I really asked for."

"You're being too sweet, no?"

"Only for you, Jagiya."

Jeon Jungkook:

"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon called out for the younger man who stumbled to the side of the stage and fell onto his knees.

"Can someone get me some water?" Namjoon gestured to the staff members who were already crowding around Jungkook.

Jungkook kept his head low, his mic turned off and lying right beside him on the flooring. When Namjoon kindly asked the rest of the female staff to move away, he quietly knelt beside Jungkook and placed a comforting hand over his back.

"You okay?"

Jungkook breathed out heavily with a weak shake of his head.

"I feel dizzy."

"Can you continue the show?" Namjoon gently whispered, running his palm along the length of Jungkook's back. Jungkook took a moment to think, before shaking his head again.

"Not sure."

"No problem," Namjoon instantly nodded, looking up and thanking the staff who returned with a cold bottle of water.

"Have some water and then go rest."

"Hyung," Jungkook looked up weakly. "Did she call?"

Namjoon looked pained, sighing deeply and wiping off the sweat that was dripping from his eyebrow.

"She did."

Jungkook felt his breath hitch, his mind going a bit hazy but fighting hard to hold onto his consciousness.

"What did she say?"

"She's leaving the state for a while, going back to her brother's place."

"Did she tell you when she'd be back?"

Namjoon looked away briefly, setting his own mic down and blowing out a puff of hot air.

"I'm not sure she'll come back, Jungkook-ah."

Jungkook inhaled shakily, falling to the side so that he wasn't on his knees anymore. A few staff members who were standing at a distance instantly rushed forwards to help the boy up.

"I'm not sure he can perform any longer, just let him rest, wouldn't want to hurt him even more," Namjoon briefly explained to his manager who was holding an icepack to the boy's forehead in worry.

"What's happening?"

"He's feeling dizzy, just take him in and let him lie down, I'll explain the situation to everyone."

Jungkook's eyes fluttered closed, the sounds around him tuning out into a ringing buzz, the only thought on his mind was that you weren't coming back.

He drove you away.

At a time when you might've needed him the most, he let you down and pushed you away. Jungkook finally realized that whatever courage you must've mustered up at that moment to finally let down your walls and talk to him about your life had been completely crushed by the weight of his insults.

It had been three weeks since that day. Three weeks since Jungkook spent that entire night out on the streets looking for you. Three weeks since he'd begun to sleep the whole day and spend the rest of the night drinking away his regrets.

Three weeks without you was enough torture for him - the little hope that he had left within him finally evaporating into thin air like it had never even been there in the first place.

With a final heave of regret, Jungkook slumped into the arms of the staff member who was holding onto him, a series of panicked yells filling the confined space backstage.

"Hyung, what happened?" Taehyung and Jimin came rushing towards the commotion, worried eyes following the people who were carrying Jungkook's unconscious form further in.

"Did he pass out?"

"What happened?"

Namjoon remained on the floor, the tips of his fingers pushing into the bridge of his nose, breathing wearily. Maybe this was for the best, for both Jungkook and you. Maybe this distance would somehow heal the two of you.

And if that was the case, Namjoon would have to hold on just a little more so that he could be strong for both of his best friends.

"He's reached his limit."

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist: @underratedbitch-number13, @charnease

Permanent Taglist: @hopestastic @mistyaphelion @0xnna0 @cuteipat @koalasandcuddles @fxndomsqueen @sparkyprotectionsquad

#bts angst #bts angst reactions #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts angst imagines #bts angst scenarios #kim namjoon angst #namjoon angst #kim seokjin angst #seokjin angst #min yoongi angst #yoongi angst #suga angst imagines #jung hoseok angst #hoseok angst #hobi angst #park jimin angst #jimin angst #kim taehyung angst #taehyung angst #v angst #jeon jungkook angst #jungkook angst #bangtan #bts ot7 #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts

[jungwnies]

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 | 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐮

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ― what hyung line posts about you on social media/ how they talk about to the media

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ―gn!reader x hyung line 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ― none 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ―226

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ― they’re so cute :((( also stream PROOF 🖤 #. ― please remember to like + follow — if you enjoy the content a REBLOG would be deeply appreciated :D

#. 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 ― always mentions you on v-live, posts you on his instagram story. doesn’t expose too much because he likes a rather private relationship; however, nothing can stop him from drooling over you and talking about you nonstop on v-live. cute faceless pictures of the two of you on his story, but he keeps you off twitter because the fans get a little rowdy on twt

#. 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍 ― posts pictures of the two of you all the time on instagram, always answers questions about you during interviews; he likes a private relationship too but he doesn’t mind sharing some aspects of it with the public. doesn’t care for any hate; but like namjoon he keeps you off twitter.

#. 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈 ― doesn’t really post you; but sometimes he’ll post faceless pictures of just you on twitter; but he loves talking about you during v-lives or answering questions about you during interviews. always gloating about you; you’re like a trophy to him.

#. 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈 ― talks about you nonstop; whether it’s on v-live, his instagram story, his instagram page, interviews, whatever it is you name it; he’s going to mention you somewhere along the lines. always posting you and the dates you go on, and the armies absolutely adore you. he doesn’t post you a lot on twitter but you’ve been mentioned a few times.

© 2022 JUNTHUSIAST ― do not steal or repost

#kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts hyung line #bts x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts angst reactions #bts fluff reactions #rm angst reactions #namjoon angst reactions #namjoon fluff reactions #rm fluff reactions #jin angst reactions #seokjin angst reactions #jin fluff reactions #seokjin fluff reactions #suga angst reactions

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook gets his motorcycle license and you don’t believe in fate.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, a dash of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: protective!bf jungkook 🫡 / jk gives oc h*ckeys / jk is sad and scared bc many couples r breaking up :( then he gets h*rny and i can’t blame him bc oc is hot / oc loves short skirts n jk is stressed / oc gets an anxiety attack !! bc they thought jk got into an accident / bam cameo <3

> in which masterlist!

note: ART REPORTING FOR DUTY 🫡 it’s been a while so i feel quite rusty and my brain is fried pls bear with me </3 i’m excited to post regularly again and get back into the flow hehe. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated! 🥺

—

it is a rather calm afternoon in your shared apartment. you and jungkook may be together in the living room, but you’re each spending your alone time.

you’re sitting on the couch with bam’s head on your lap, your not-so-little baby sleeping soundly. you indulge yourself in a fashion magazine, occasionally lifting your head when you sense your boyfriend staring at you longingly from the desk. he would quickly avert his eyes to feign obliviousness, switching between the laptop or his phone to busy himself.

“babe, spit it out.” you giggle, lowering down the magazine from your face. “is there something wrong…? what do you want?”

“no, it’s nothing. just ignore me.”

“then you’re going to be upset with me when i actually do it?”

“yah! that’s not true!” he looks at you wide-eyed, chest puffing up in defense. “it’s really nothing, okay? you can go back to reading.”

“mkay, whatever you say… i’m not reading, though.”you mumble the last sentence, burying your nose in the magazine again.

with a glittery golden-inked pen, you draw a star beside a bag from the spring/summer collection that you fell in love with at first sight. you hear the clacking of the keyboard pause and resume, pause and resume, but you ignore your boyfriend’s beseeching glances like he asked you to.

minutes pass by on the clock as you flip the pages with twinkling eyes and silent squeals, but they feel like hours to jungkook.

he blinks at the laptop screen as he sinks his teeth on his bottom lip.

he just needs to do it— get it over with. whatever it is, he’s certain that the two of you could reach some sort of compromise… right?

he puts on a face of determination before wheeling the gaming chair towards where you are. and with no one to blame but himself, he releases a disgruntled noise when he collides with the leather couch. the impact sends him a couple of feet away from his destination, but his hands find purchase on your exposed thighs and he brings himself back to you.

his clinginess never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

you smile in secret, silent as he hooks his arms underneath your knees and lies his head beside bam’s. he kisses bam’s forehead, and in a somewhat twisted way, you are grateful for all the times the universe tugged at the string of joy and made you chase after it, because it led you here.

he has folded himself in a position that looks wildly uncomfortable, but jungkook likes to torture his senses for some reason, so you let him be. you pretend that no one has invaded your space, attached theirself to you so close that you’re carrying a quarter of their weight; feeling tickled by their exhales against your skin.

you planned to mix yourself a cocktail halfway through your magazine, but that is pushed to the bottom of things you can do now that your boyfriend is displeased with the lack of attention from his lover.

“this won’t do!”

his impatience forces him out of the chair and onto the couch, where he sneaks his strong arms around your waist. the movements shakes bam awake from his slumber. the doberman sits up, tiredly blinks at his father as if he is so done, and leaps off the couch to strut to his house.

jungkook scratches his head guiltily. “bam! dad is sorry that he disturbed your sleep!”

to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t receive a reply.

“oh, bam, are you mad at me…? you can’t be, right? you must understand… we both really love ____, don’t we?”

but he does receive one from you— a fond gaze that thinks of him bizarre.

“he’s not mad!” he defends himself.

“he should be. we were having a peaceful time together.”

“yah, that’s so mean. i’m part of this family too!” he complains with a scowl. “i want to cuddle.”

“no one’s stopping you, babe.”

this time, he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

he breathes you in, and his mind becomes clouded with the natural scent of you, so uniquely you, sweet and fresh like the clouds on a spring day, mixed with a hint of strawberries. humans smell fragrant flowers and break off their stems. jungkook smells you and he bites, sinks his teeth on your skin, sucks, again and again, and then soothes the ache with a slow and gentle slide of his tongue, but it doesn’t erase the marks that blossom into a hue of a bruise.

he licks his lips, wet with saliva, feeling cocky with the memory of your sharp inhales— cockier when he lifts his head and sees the dilation of your pupils behind a curtain of haze.

however, they’re still trained towards the fashion items printed on paper that you so desperately wish would materialize into thin air.

he groans.

“baaaaby,”

“mhmmm?” you mimic the tone of his whine, resting your head on his shoulder— just to be closer, let him know you’re here and you’re listening.

he clears his throat, prepares for the worst.

“these days, there’s something i’ve been thinking of a lot… i’ve been researching here and there, too…”

“about?”

“motorcycles…”

“okay,”

“okay?”

bewildered by your nonchalant response, he pulls away to squint at you in suspicion.

“…i’m planning to buy one and get a license? like, maybe next week?”

“okay,” you repeat yourself.

hit with a twinge of confusion, you briefly tear your eyes away from the beautiful gowns worn by beautiful models.

“are you telling me or are you asking me?”

“uh- uhm,” he stutters. “i’m telling you.”

“alright then,”

his chest puffs up as he inhales sharply. “that’s it?!”

“what do you want me to say?” you flip a page, a flicker of amusement flashing across your face. “you’re not allowed to…? i mean- sure, i can do that, too.“

“no, no, no, no, no-” he kisses your cheek— nearly, barely, he’s smiling too big to do it properly. “no, really! are you serious?”

“why won’t you believe me?” the magazine lands on your lap as you cross your arms in annoyance. “what do you think of me?”

“i heard couples really fight about this in particular, though?” he chuckles, and it’s your pouted lips’ turn to be granted a kiss. “sorry, i assumed you won’t approve of this one. you’re so strict with me about driving safely.”

“it’s no problem because i know you’re responsible. i just get worried sometimes,” you mumble. “when you’re tired from work.”

“i know,”

“good,” you sigh, leaning into him to steal a kiss yourself. “can i just ask you for one thing then?”

“yes,” he nods eagerly. “anything.”

“if i find out that you didn’t wear a helmet one time…” you tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth, unsure what type of reaction you will elicit. “you’re getting rid of it.”

“three times-”

“oh my god, absolutely not!”

the sheer horror painted on your face further fuels his mischief.

“twice?”

“you said anyth-”

“please?”

“no! then i’m getting rid of it myself!”

you shove his shoulder, and he allows himself to fall flat on the couch before bouncing back with the mission to ease your mind.

“i’m just joking, baby!” his giggles fill the entire apartment.

he cages your face in his hands but you stubbornly resist.

“i’m joking- i’m joking. i’m sorry. come here, give me a kiss.”

he makes a smooching sound with his puckered lips and you send an unimpressed glare in return.

“promise me first,” your fingers wrap around his wrist to deny his affectionate advances. “one time!”

“i promise!”

“and you won’t get angry at me?”

and with that, his heart begins to ache in his chest. the shift in your voice, the nervousness blanketed by softness… fuck.

“how hard can that possibly be?”

he just remembered how upset you were when he got himself infected after visiting a tattoo shop in america. you told him it would probably be best to do more research on the place, but he isn’t jungkook if he isn’t stubborn. it was hell, to say the least. being in pain and fighting with you for days. you would tend to him and the silence would rub salt on the wound.

today, however, he was more than prepared to defend his case in the event that he faces rejection.

he doesn’t.

on the contrary, he is a given a gift.

“i hate you,” you whimper, but your words contradict the way you respond to his kisses— the sharpness of them has been dulled by his tongue. he tastes like the green apple lollipop that you completely forgot you left on the desk four days ago.

he draws back with a playful grin.

thief… your kisses and your candy and your body and your heart. all his.

“huh, you don’t mean that.”

“i do!”

“i love you,” he utters tenderly. “i trust you to set me straight when i need to get my shit together.”

“then you understand that i just don’t want it to become a habit, right…?”

what does he think of you? a person who treats him with utmost gentleness, supports his happiness, and worries about his safety— a person more important to him than himself.

“and even if it’s only one time… we never know what’s going to happen. i wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you outside the celebrity segment of the news. jungkook, i swear.” you pray that he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice, disguising it with a layer of humor. “i will lose my mind.”

“of course i understand! that won’t ever happen, baby! i want to tell you not to worry too much, but… but to be honest… i think i will be more upset if you don’t lecture me about this kind of thing at all.”

“really?”

“yes. because then doesn’t that mean you no longer care about me?”

this whole time, you’ve been saying i don’t want you to get hurt i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you, and he hears you clearly— like how one recognizes their favorite song playing in public even from far away.

you smile sheepishly. “show me the motorcycle you want.”

your outspoken interest makes jungkook’s face light up like a christmas tree.

“there’s actually a few that i’m looking at…” he trails off, running back to the desk to grab his laptop.

“i’ll help you choose!” you clap your hands excitedly. “is there a pink one?”

“pink?!” he exclaims, which is then followed by endeared laughter. “you want it?”

you assume that he is going to ignore the silly idea, that is until he returns to his seat beside you.

“sure, there should be one somewhere.” he whispers, more to himself, typing away on the keyboard to feed your curiosity.

“really? really?” you babble, clinging to his arm to take a peek at the screen.

“hmmm,” he hums. “get a license too and i’ll buy it for you.”

a sound of disapproval bubbles in your throat. “eh, not for me. i want you to use it.”

jungkook dramatically pauses. he stares at you, doe eyes infront of blazing headlights.

he releases a burdened sigh.

“why me?!”

—

“bend over,” jungkook commands sternly, standing arms crossed infront of the bedroom door to deny your exit. “right now.”

“eh?” you gape at him. “but aren’t we goi-”

“i said turn around, baby.”

you’re left with no choice when his patience runs thin and he captures your hand— it comes so naturally when you twirl on your toes as if you’re waltzing to a slow love song. he pushes you forward gently, and you carry your innate grace all the way to the arch of your back.

jungkook swallows down a moan elicited by the tantalizing view, clearing his throat. he masks the sound by unceremoniously spanking your ass, the skin-to-skin contact also causing a sharp sting to spread across his palm.

“shit- i knew it, it’s too short.” he tugs your skirt down, a useless attempt at concealing your white lace underwear. he harshly breathes out in exasperation. “baby, i can see everything! you can’t ride a motorcycle wearing this!“

“what? motorcycle?! i can finally ride it?!”

you only heard one word come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, it seems.

you flip in excitement, facing him again with a smile as bright as the sunny sky outside. “you got your license? why didn’t you tell me?!”

“i was going to surprise you but-”

he still looks stressed out, eyes trained to your skirt- well, your legs. the skirt is barely there.

“going back here from the parking lot to change would be-”

“but it’s miu miu,” you quietly remark, looking down at the article of clothing with a frown. “it’s not that short…”

“look at the mirror,” he points to your left with his eyes, but then he is already carrying you by the curves of your waist so that your back is facing it.

you bend down on your own, and jungkook clicks his tongue when you only giggle heartily upon seeing your own reflection.

“it’s fiiine! you’re there to protect me. i just won’t bend down.”

“but won’t you get cold?”

“nope!” you reply without a second to spare. “for fashion, i never get cold.”

it’s been more than five years since he met you; jungkook knows damn well that is very far from the truth. not a single autumn and winter have passed that he didn’t lend you his jacket, his warmth, and then some more, simply because you refuse to stop wearing skirts until you’re at the verge of freezing to death.

alright, maybe he’s being dramatic, and you’re stubborn as hell.

“and i’m wearing my tall boots,” you raise your leg in a straight line to show off the leather brown boots that stop below your knees. “look, look… don’t i look cute?”

cute? such a word won’t do you justice. you’re acting like he’s not also looking at your panties.

“of course,” a soft smile replaces his hardened features. “you look so beautiful, baby.”

“hm, thought so,” you scrunch your nose, and his heart skips a beat.

damn, but that- there’s definitely no other word to describe it but the word cute.

“but how about, let’s say, wearing a coat over it?”

“jungkook! no!” you grunt, punching his arm- but then a lightbulb illuminates your brain.

“or shorts under it-”

“oh my god, i think you have one that matches. i remember i saw it the other day-”

“no, wait, wait, wait- shorts are safer! ____!”

you sprint back to the walk-in closet, leaving jungkook alone in the bedroom.

“come back here!”

he jerks his head in distress, rubbing his eyes harshly with his tattooed knuckles.

“ah, ____!”

“what?!” you yell, voice bouncing off the walls of your apartment. “i found it!”

—

“is it too tight?” jungkook inquires, looking up to you from the floor.

you bend your knees to assess the tightness of knee pads. “nope, it’s good.”

he proceeds to grab the elbows pads he hung over the handle of the motorcycle.

“hmmm, next… you wear these instead.”

you pout, recalling that he forgot his riding jacket at work yesterday. “but what about you?”

“i only have one pair.” he says. “it’s fine, it’s just for now. let’s pick up my jacket at the company before going to the museum.”

“how about let’s wear one each?”

upon processing the mechanics of your suggestion, his tall and broad frame shakes with mirth.

you obviously grew up with little siblings. they were so lucky to have you.

“hey! what are you laughing at?”

“nothing, you’re just cute.” he chuckles, wrapping the other protective pad around your left elbow. “just wear them both. i’m confident with my driving but… i still need you as safe as possible, baby.”

“but jungkook! what if y-” you whine out a protest, which he instantly silences by slipping your helmet over your head. “ugh, you’re so rude!”

he beams with pride as he clips its straps beneath your chin. “wow, it fits so perfectly? i only guessed… ah, as expected of jeon jungkook.”

his hand freezes on the visor when you strike him with the beady eyes, pouting your lips to request for a kiss, which he grants— more than willingly. gladly. happily. with pleasure.

cruising through the city on a motorbike with the love of his life; going on dates; putting on your helmet for you and learning how to angle his face for when he steals a kiss— he used to only witness this in romance films.

at the end of the day he’s just a simple man, jungkook admits.

what a dream come true.

—

it definitely becomes clearer to jungkook today— why you did not oppose the idea of him getting a motorcycle license on such short notice.

“this is so cool!“ you squeal behind him, subconsciously raising the pitch of your voice to contest with the wind and the roaring engines.

“____, be careful,” he chides you. “or else i’ll slow down!”

a sense of relief washes over him as you readjust your arms around his waist, your weight resting on him ironically making his chest feel lighter.

if only jungkook could protect you by keeping you bubblewrapped at all times, he would.

“you’re enjoying this more than i expected.”

the two of you idle before a red light. he balances the two-wheeled vehicle with his left foot planted on the ground.

“is it fun?”

“so much fun!” you gush, enthusiasm overflowing past the seams of your lips. “you already drive like a pro!”

“of course! i studied hard! i don’t plan on putting you in danger with my stupidity!”

“still-” you interject. “you’re just good at everything.”

while he is aware that he is gifted in many ways, technically speaking, jungkook knows he can’t possibly be good at everything. but hearing it come from the person he love and adore most in the world? he can’t help but to allow it to inflate his ego a little bit.

ten seconds before the traffic light turns green.

his smirk is hidden inside his helmet, but you can masterfully envision it in your head just from the transparent smugness in his voice.

“time to hold on again, baby.”

“i think you just like me feeling you up.” you muse.

you teasingly slip one hand underneath his shirt to caress his toned stomach, and he hisses out a curse. with how strict you are about road safety, one would assume that you would restrain on being frisky while riding a vehicle thirty times more dangerous than a car. you either have too much in trust your boyfriend or you underestimate your effect on him.

in his case, double the thirty.

the engine roars to life and the wheels screech against the concrete road. your gentle touch turns into a bruising grip on his waist.

jungkook thinks that you might be right. he would never miss an opportunity to feel your skin on his skin. he selfishly decides then and there— he now prefers motorycle rides with you.

—

it doesn’t take you long to catch up to that fact. when he tells you wear something comfortable, you also know not to spend too much time doing something cute with your hair because the helmet will just turn it into a tousled mess. for the past two months, he has been calling you every night to ask whether you want to be picked up from work with the bike or the car, because as much as you both relish in the thrill and the wind and the intimacy, sometimes you fall asleep on the way home from exhaustion and he doesn’t want you… quite literally falling on the streets of seoul.

but today is your day-off, and with your head hanging from the edge of the bed, you tear your attention away from your phone to find jungkook is upside down. he stands outside the bedroom door hugging your rainbow hello kitty plushie to his chest, frowning woefully with a cause you are clueless about.

the contrast of his black t-shirt with the rainbow makes you crack a smile, reminiscent of the countless memes you’ve seen on the internet. you find it funny, but mostly endearing. because you’re the one who loves colors but dreams of nightmares, while he loves dark colors but dreams of stars, fairies, and soaring through skies and different dimensions. you don’t believe in fate. however, jungkook believes that it was fate that brought him to you, and that you are the person he is destined with. you don’t believe in fate, but you wholeheartedly, unequivocally believe in him.

“i was watching the news-” he huffs, seemingly perplexed. “why is everyone breaking up all of a sudden?”

“who broke up?”

he freezes, attempting to recall the names that flashed across the television screen only minutes ago. “i honestly don’t know them, but still!”

“then why are you pouting?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he carelessly tosses the plushie on the bed before climbing on it, sneaking his arms between your torso and the mattress to engulf you in a bone-crushing embrace. your phone slips away from your grip, buried somewhere in the sheets, but when big bundle of love and warmth is over you, it’s impossible to be consumed by anything else.

you weave your fingers through his hair, whispering teasingly. “scared of being in the headlines too?”

“scared…” he agrees, then he doesn’t. “of losing you.”

he scoots closer to nuzzle his face against your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“i-it’s just,” he pauses. “ah, i don’t know! nevermind, forget it.”

“no, tell me. it’s okay.” your hands cup his cheeks, coaxing him to look at you. “tell me what’s bothering you. whatever it is. i’ll listen.”

there’s a glint of melancholy on his glassy eyes, and you desperately want to know what brought forth this pain so you can take it all away. your heart shatters when his nose scrunches into a sniffle, skin becoming more flushed, a shade of red that dusts his skin only when he cries.

“when couples break up after a long time… many of them say…” he trails off, held back by uncertainty.

“they say?” you urge him to continue, pretending to be absorbed in fixing his hair— running your fingers through the soft locks, rearranging his bangs, trying to see if they’re long enough to be tucked behind his ears— all in an indulgent effort to show him that this type of conversation doesn’t need to be awkward or intense.

“they say that… that they just woke up one day and- and realized they were no longer-” his lips curve into a frown, deeper than before, and you mirror him without knowing. “happy, or in love.”

he breathes shakily, avoiding your eyes to gather himself together.

fuck, jeon jungkook. man up! are you seriously going to cry right now? like this?

“and we’ve been together for five years.”

“almost five,” you correct him with a sweet smile, poking his soft cheek right where one of his dimples would be. “our anniversary is right around the corner.”

the unadulterated joy you radiated as you spoke those words makes the trepidation in his brain glitch.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. please continue.”

he licks his lips, and then opens his mouth but- “i’ve lost my train of thought.”

“oh my god, i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“you were talking about something serious.” you wince guiltily.

“our anniversary is something serious too!” he points out, pouting cutely.

“yes, but… it’s a different story, breakups are- jungkook! why are you suddenly laughing?!” you sputter, shoving him away in annoyance when you hear a snort in the midst of his uncontrollable giggles. “what’s so funny…? you were just so close to crying!”

he shakes his head profusely, collapsing over you, but he ends up rolling over to the side so he can lie on his back and clutch at his aching belly.

“ah, ____! my heart fluttered when you mentioned our anniversary. i totally forgot what i was talking about!”

if it fluttered earlier, now it goes absolutely wild in his ribcage.

your positions are switched before he can comprehend it— you’re now on all fours on top of him. his head is trapped in between your arms and your gold necklace is dangling over his face and you’re straddling his lap and now it’s getting harder to breathe and not picture obscene images that involve you worshipping his body.

he probably likes this way too much than he cares to admit.

“do you see it now?”

he purses his lips, obviously distracted, controlled by his desire for you as he finds the curves of your waist to caress. “see what?”

“that you don’t need to be anxious about us not being happy in the future, because we’re happy right now.”

he cannot detect an ounce of hesitation even if he tried. you are steady. you are sure. something intangible and inexplicable floods your souls when your eyes meet, but the two of you know that it exists and it is real.

“fuck… i love you. i fucking love you so much.” his voice borders on a growl, and a whimper escapes your lips just before they crash against his for a kiss so full of passion that it completely catches you offguard. he pulled you down so swiftly that your hands anchored on the bed scrambled for his forearms to break your fall, nails digging into his skin as you balance yourself.

jungkook isn’t much for words, but something in him always wants more. he likes to speak with his tongue in a way so sweet that it compels you to abandon your vocabularies in the farthest back of your mind.

you sit down on his lap breathless after making out. your boyfriend watches you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slipping his hands underneath his head as he cockily grins in satisfaction.

you roll your eyes at the sight of his biceps being shamelessly flexed. “bastard,”

“bastard you’re crazy about,”

“unfortunately,” you sigh with faux disappointment, hugging the hello kitty plushie you picked up from the floor.

“want to go for a ride?”

“to where?”

“anywhere,” he shrugs. “it’s already late so there shouldn’t be traffic anymore.”

you jump off the bed without another word, returning a minute later clad in a black harley davidson jacket. you look so fucking chic and attractive in it, he always pats himself on the back for buying it for you.

jungkook would go against all laws of the universe if it meant spending a hundred more almost five years with you, until the hello kitty plushie you’re still hugging becomes gray and unrecognizable.

“babe, why are you still staring at me like that? i’m ready!”

—

from the entrance, jungkook discerns your familiar figure pacing back and forth across your designated parking spaces. you appear to be engrossed in your phone as you nibble on your thumb, which he knows to be a tell-tale sign of your anxiety. you just got your nails done, and for the first three days, you’re usually very conscious of messing them up.

you fail to notice the loud presence of his motorcycle, not until he has successfully parked and pushed down its side stand on the ground.

“baby! what are you doing out here?”

he lifts off the helmet, ruffling his hair to tame it. and as he brushes his stubborn bangs away from his eyes, that’s when he sees his lover overcome with distraught.

his heart drops to his stomach.

your eyes are filled with unshed tears, chin trembling with the struggle of holding them back.

“jungkook!” you wail out his name, and you haven’t cried this loud since you were sixteen.

an unnamed neighbor walks by the scene and says to theirself, somebody must’ve died.

“yah- why? why, why, why?” he stumbles over his own words in panic, carelessly hanging the helmet on one of the handles of the motorcycle as he gets off. “what’s wrong? baby? what happened?”

you hide your face in the palms of your cold yet clammy hands, ashamed by the surge of your emotions flooding the parking lot as acid rain, but a sense of safety blankets you when jungkook gingerly tugs you towards him.

“i thought something bad happened to you! a car hit a motorcycle nearby- and i thou- i really thought-”

“oh, that’s right! how did you know?” he gasps. “i passed by them earlier. there were so many people and police officers.”

“jungkook!” you snap, hitting his chest in frustration.

“sorry- i’m sorry! okay, that was insensitive of me- fuck.” he rambles, and you visibly cringe when his glove-clad hands touch your face.

the texture, and only god knows all the places it’s been…

“there’s no need to cry, baby! i’m already here, aren’t i? i’m so healthy. there’s not a single scratch on me.”

he hastily takes off his jacket to reveal himself in a white sleeveless shirt. spotless that it looks brand-new.

“see? all good!“

you fall silent. your eyes frantically scan his body, but your brain doesn’t really register anything that you perceive.

“aigoo, why are you shaking so much?”

he can’t bear to watch you in this state. he feels nauseous, almost, like his gut is being twisted and wrung in different ways.

“my baby must’ve been so worried about me, is that right? come here.”

in the solace of jungkook’s embrace, wrapped in his strong arms that are, praise heavens, not broken, the pounding of your heart gradually returns to normal.

his, however, becomes louder. and these days he likes to believe that he is no longer the crybaby he once was, but his skin feels flushed as tears fills his eyes, because damn, what a blessing it is to be loved by you.

he leans on the motorcycle, lovingly rocking you back and forth with shushes and soft hums.

time flies by when you are floating, but jungkook is patient as he waits for you to land and come home to him, even when his feet have fallen asleep.

“you haven’t forgotten your promise?” you whisper.

“never not wear a helmet,” he coos, pressing his lips to your temple. “of course i haven’t forgotten.”

“good,” you mumble, drawing back. “go home and shower. you’re all so sweaty.”

“i will. i feel so sticky.” he chortles. “this is so annoying. i hate summer!”

—

you continue to cling to jungkook all the way to the apartment unit, arms circled around his torso and soft cheek smushed against his back. snuggling him from behind like a koala does a tree is a newly-discovered joy. and if you were single you would be rolling your eyes at a person for saying this, but it is quite wonderful to have a boyfriend for a pillow that is also a blanket. has anyone invented that?

“you know, i regret not getting a motorcycle earlier.”

“why?”

the door opens with a short jovial jingle as a signal.

“i saw someone with a puppy in a basket this morning. it was even wearing goggles! it was really cute!” he laments, dragging you along with him into the living room. “ah, i’m an idiot. why didn’t i think of that? we could’ve done that with bam!”

you form the mental image of tiny baby bam wearing tiny goggles and a tiny leather jacket, and then another, but with the current bam.

“but bam is already as big as the bike!” you dissolve into laughter.

jungkook grunts, and you can’t tell whether he’s genuinely feeling this regretful or he’s just trying to distract you after you broke down with the mind-numbing anxiety of losing him forever.

“exactly!”

you sink into the couch, instinctively reaching for the hello kitty plushie to hug. meanwhile, he begins stripping off his shirt.

“it’s not even possible at all now!”

“but i do want to see him wear goggles…” you say in jest, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your shorts. “should i look for one?”

wait, what do you even type for it? dog goggles?

“i found them. there are helmets, too.” you gasp, covering your mouth as an epiphany hits you. “the puppy wasn’t wearing a helmet?”

driven by curiosity, jungkook sits next to you as you search for the item online. he is practically naked, left wearing only his black calvin klein boxers.

“oh,” he pauses. “now that you mention it, the puppy wasn’t wearing one.”

“how are you still sweaty?” with your thumb, you wipe the bead of sweat threatening to enter his eye. “go shower first.”

he manages to sneak a chaste kiss to your wrist before it becomes out of reach.

“before that, i need to tell you something.”

you bob your head, encouraging him to speak out, but the longer you maintain eye-contact with him, the faster his impulsive courage melts into a puddle of nervousness.

marry me.

marry me.

“baby…”

“yes?” you half-smile. “what is it? you’re starting to scare me.”

marry me.

when i see the future, i only see you.

“i love you.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

-

-

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time? 

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware. 

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd. 

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience. 

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand. 

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night. 

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.” 

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still… 

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.” 

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise. 

“And you’re paying me double.” 

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. 

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?” 

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.” 

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.” 

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention. 

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.” 

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet. 

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!” 

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs. 

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy. 

However. 

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense. 

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action. 

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you. 

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks, 

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived? 

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder. 

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too. 

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.” 

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.” 

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?” 

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s. 

And you don’t like it one bit. 

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up. 

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed. 

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out. 

“What?” 

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.” 

“After what he did to you?” 

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…” 

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back. 

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill. 

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead. 

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on. 

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck! 

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning. 

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench. 

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger. 

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands. 

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win. 

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate. 

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change. 

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight. 

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees. 

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

-

-

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy. 

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder. 

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you. 

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night. 

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!” 

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight. 

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on. 

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?” 

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.” 

Motherfucker. 

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.” 

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night. 

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky. 

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?” 

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod. 

Weird. 

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?” 

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.” 

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.” 

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.” 

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.  

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat. 

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some. 

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do— 

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!” 

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.” 

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart. 

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness. 

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts. 

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive. 

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!” 

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.” 

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure. 

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much. 

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…” 

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.” 

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort. 

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard. 

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut. 

You want to believe him. You do. You do. 

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort. 

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating. 

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.” 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—” 

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?” 

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.” 

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.” 

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—” 

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes. 

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.” 

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up. 

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?” 

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.” 

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.” 

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.” 

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.” 

And you mean that. 

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.” 

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen. 

-

-

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid. 

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.” 

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.” 

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room, 

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?” 

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out, 

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?” 

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not. 

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out. 

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted. 

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.” 

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends. 

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up. 

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do. 

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either. 

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you. 

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened. 

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you? 

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring. 

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick. 

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know. 

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else. 

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with. 

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else. 

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park. 

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside. 

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer. 

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear. 

Finally. “Hello.” 

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside. 

“You’re here?” 

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell. 

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame. 

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—” 

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go. 

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching, 

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage. 

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine. 

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight. 

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you. 

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice, 

“…No.” 

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that. 

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground. 

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room. 

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is. 

Shit, this is everywhere. 

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going. 

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain. 

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room. 

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way. 

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment. 

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed. 

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away. 

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore. 

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse. 

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.” 

“I still need to—” 

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting. 

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?” 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?” 

“I say a lot of things.” 

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder. 

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.” 

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?” 

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.” 

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.” 

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.” 

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?” 

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?” 

“Do you even know?” 

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!” 

“That’s cus—” 

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.” 

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…” 

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then. 

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.” 

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.” 

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.” 

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock, 

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare. 

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time. 

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.” 

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center. 

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—  

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming. 

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—” 

“Whoa, hold u—” 

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—” 

“Just listen—” 

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—” 

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. 

“I swear to—” 

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders. 

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again. 

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now. 

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass. 

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.” 

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you. 

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.” 

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside. 

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk. 

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain. 

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life. 

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth, 

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.” 

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.” 

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.” 

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions. 

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation. 

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself. 

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length. 

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that. 

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what. 

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?” 

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat. 

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?” 

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.” 

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it. 

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss. 

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.” 

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall. 

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact. 

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.” 

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.” 

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.” 

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside. 

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall. 

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes. 

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely. 

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust. 

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.” 

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.” 

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?” 

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach. 

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway. 

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth. 

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.” 

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver. 

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.” 

“Asshole—” 

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.” 

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?” 

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.” 

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.” 

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.” 

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear. 

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.” 

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that. 

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure. 

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down. 

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension. 

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!” 

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt. 

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?” 

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Do it yourself then.” 

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…” 

“Nah.” 

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.” 

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong. 

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.” 

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.” 

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command, 

“Then fucking come.” 

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin. 

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened. 

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice. 

“I said again.” 

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone. 

“Yoongi—” 

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place. 

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.” 

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.” 

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs. 

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.” 

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes… 

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.” 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale. 

“There you go. Keep going.” 

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is. 

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.” 

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?” 

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—” 

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice. 

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—” 

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—” 

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

“I know you don’t make promises but—” 

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear. 

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore. 

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on. 

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside. 

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?” 

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.” 

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap. 

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off? 

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.” 

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—” 

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those? 

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release. 

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too. 

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever. 

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have, 

“How about we share it.” 

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.” 

“Okay.” 

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.” 

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain. 

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.” 

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too. 

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head. 

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed. 

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head. 

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—” 

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.” 

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…” 

Scroll, scroll. 

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?” 

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again. 

Scroll, scroll. 

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion. 

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?” 

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door. 

His eyes. 

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms. 

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance. 

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do. 

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe? 

No. 

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters. 

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.” 

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—” 

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you. 

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue. 

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay. 

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man. 

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything. 

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.” 

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.” 

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.” 

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself. 

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.” 

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall. 

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides. 

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts. 

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.” 

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.” 

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—” 

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes. 

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?” 

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.” 

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?” 

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.” 

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.” 

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him. 

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give. 

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined. 

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking. 

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again. 

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two. 

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come. 

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too. 

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?” 

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.” 

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.” 

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.” 

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.” 

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.” 

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it. 

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?” 

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?” 

Again. 

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.” 

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.” 

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire. 

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything. 

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you. 

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want. 

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!” 

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful. 

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion. 

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists. 

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut. 

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles. 

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.” 

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down. 

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel. 

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.” 

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?” 

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised. 

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.” 

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.” 

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.” 

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.” 

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.” 

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.” 

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you. 

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world. 

Swelling, you already feel close. 

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble. 

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi. 

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again. 

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep. 

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again. 

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again? 

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times. 

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins. 

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence. 

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning. 

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.” 

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.” 

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest. 

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out, 

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.” 

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough. 

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.” 

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.” 

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?” 

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you. 

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.” 

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?” 

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that. 

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops. 

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there. 

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.” 

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, 

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift. 

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same. 

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.” 

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.” 

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!” 

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.” 

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.” 

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.” 

“Guess what.” 

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again. 

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours. 

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many. 

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home? 

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?” 

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.” 

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet. 

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.” 

“I can!” 

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.” 

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin. 

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony. 

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same. 

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret. 

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.” 

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?” 

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself. 

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

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tbc. :)

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so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#AHHH it's finally here! #bts fic #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts fanfic #ryenwrites #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #3tan12 #*latest

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 7.5k

chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name

There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.

This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.

Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.

This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.

As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.

“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.

“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.

“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.

“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.

“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.

Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.

If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.

They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.

And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.

Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.

He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.

Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.

“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.

Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.

Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.

“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”

“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”

“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”

Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”

“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”

“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”

“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”

“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”

“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”

You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.

Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.

“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”

“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”

“Fine, I—”

“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.

“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.

In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.

There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.

“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”

You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.

“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”

Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”

“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.

“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”

“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.

Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.

It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”

It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.

You and Jungkook had been broken up for almost two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was over two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.

You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.

And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).

You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.

“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”

Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.

You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.

“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.

Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”

The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.

“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”

“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”

“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”

He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”

“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”

“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”

“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And, depending on flight time, maybe two nights in London,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”

None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.

Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.

You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).

Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.

“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”

“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”

You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.

“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”

Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.

You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.

Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.

When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.

He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.

The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.

He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.

“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”

Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.

The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.

It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.

Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”

He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.

He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.

Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.

Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.

“Look who—”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”

“I don’t hear running water.”

He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I can drive myself—”

“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”

He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”

“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”

“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”

“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”

“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”

“Hanging up now.”

Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.

Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.

His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.

He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.

“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”

Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.

As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.

He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.

He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.

“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”

“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”

“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.

“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”

Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”

You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.

By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.

And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.

Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.

Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.

Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.

However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.

And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.

You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.

Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.

“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.

“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”

You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.

“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.

His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.

“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”

His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”

“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”

He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”

You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”

“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”

“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”

You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.

Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.

“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”

He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.

“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”

He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.

You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.

Maybe he really would be fine tonight.

And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.

“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.

“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”

“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”

Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.

And there was nothing he’d tell them now.

It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.

“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”

Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.

“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”

Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.

“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.

“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”

Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.

Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”

“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”

Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.

“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”

“I don’t have a crush—”

Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”

Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation.  “Why—why would I even—why—”

“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”

“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”

“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.

“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.

“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.

“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”

“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.

“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”

“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”

“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”

Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.

“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”

“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.

Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.

He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.

“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”

That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.

“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”

“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”

There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.

This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”

Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”

He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.

“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.

“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”

Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.

“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”

“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”

In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.

“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”

Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.

Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.

“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”

chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”

special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜

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