aaclariww

[aaclariww]

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 05

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol consumption, kissing, making out (?), you guys are gonna hate me lolol, reader and jk are both stupid, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 8.1k

notes: i did NOT think this would take this long, i’m so sorry angels :< as always, like, comments, reblogs, feedback and asks are so appreciated!!! enjoy reading <33

< prev • next > | series masterlist | main masterlist

⤷ chapter five — anything

i don’t wanna talk about anything / i wanna kiss, kiss you eyes again / wanna witness your eyes lookin’

You wake up to warmth.

It takes you a second to realise it’s not the kind that comes from the sun bleeding through the sheer curtains. It’s heavier than that. Warmer. It smells like the detergent he always uses, that subtle citrus blend you used to make fun of for being “too clean.” You shift slightly; not enough to stir anything, but just enough to check.

Yep. That’s his arm, still draped across your waist.

He’s curled behind you, breathing steady, chest rising and falling against your back. One of his legs has somehow found its way tangled with yours. His grip on you is loose, almost lazy, like even in sleep, he doesn't want to let go — but he would if you pulled away.

You don’t.

Your pillow is soft, but his chest was softer last night. You remember the way he just climbed into bed, half-drunk, barely conscious, and slung his arm around you. No hesitation. No asking. Just like nothing had changed.

And maybe, for a second, you’d let yourself pretend that was true.

Now, in the stillness of early morning, there’s something terrifyingly comforting about his hold. About the way your bodies fit together so seamlessly, like no time had passed at all.

And you can feel the small ache in your chest — the part of you that misses him so much you're not sure how to deal with it.

You miss the way he sleeps like he’s protecting you from something. You miss the way his warmth settles over you like a blanket. You miss... him.

Your hand twitches, like it wants to reach for his, but you don't move — you don't want to break the moment.

So you just stay still, letting yourself exist in the space between what was and what could’ve been. Letting yourself remember, even if just for a minute, what it felt like to be loved by him without question.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, eyes half-lidded and mind floating somewhere between sleep and something a little too close to dreaming.

Eventually, his breathing shifts.

Not a lot — just the kind of subtle change that lets you know he’s slipping out of sleep. His chest rises a little deeper, his fingers twitch once at your side, and you feel the slight tension in his leg where it’s tangled with yours.

You keep your eyes closed.

He doesn’t move immediately. In fact, for a second, you think maybe he’s still asleep after all. But then you feel it: the tiniest brush of his thumb against the hem of your shirt.

You hear him breathe in, a little sharper this time. Not quite a gasp, but close. The kind of inhale people take when they suddenly remember where they are, and who they’re with.

Then his voice, low and scratchy with sleep, murmurs near your ear, “Still drool in your sleep?”

You scoff, caught off guard, and shove at his arm without really meaning it.

“No,” you mutter, voice thick, “but you still snore.”

There’s a quiet laugh behind you. It's barely there, a warm exhale more than anything else, but it vibrates faintly through his chest where it rests against your back. It feels nice, but too easy. Like a bad habit.

Then, silence.

Another beat passes, and you can feel the change the moment it happens. Like something clicks back into place for him. His arm retracts slowly, the weight of it disappearing from around your waist. He shifts back a few inches — not a lot, but enough to put space where there hadn’t been any for hours.

You feel the loss immediately.

Your skin feels cooler where he was, your body suddenly too aware of the places that were warm just seconds ago. You don’t move. Don’t look at him. You just stare at the soft curve of light on the wall in front of you and pretend you don’t miss the closeness already.

“Sorry,” he says under his breath, barely audible. “Didn’t mean to... yeah.”

You nod, still facing forward. “It’s fine.”

But it’s not. Not really.

He sits up slowly, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulls his legs over the edge of the bed. You don’t turn around, but you can hear the way he rubs at his face with his hands, the quiet sound of palms dragging over skin.

“Sun’s already up,” he says, like you hadn’t noticed.

You hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything else.

He sits there on the edge of the bed for a second, then lets out a groan. "Fuck," he mutters. "How much did I drink last night?"

You shift slightly on the mattress, just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. His hair’s a mess, flattened on one side and sticking up in soft waves on the other. It makes you smile.

“Judging by the way you came in here like a tranquilised bear? Enough.”

He huffs a sound that might be a laugh, head hanging low. “Figures.”

He pushes himself up with a grunt, standing slow like the weight of being vertical is a little too much this early. There’s a faint crease across his cheek from the pillow, another on the side of his neck where the blanket must’ve bunched up under him. He scratches absently at his jaw, eyes still droopy.

You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t look at you.

He just stands there for a beat, arms loose at his sides, before murmuring, “I’m gonna go see if there’s coffee. You want anything?”

You finally roll over, propping yourself up on one elbow just in time to see him standing by the door, his hair messy and eyes avoiding yours.

You hesitate. “Coffee sounds good.”

He gives a small nod. “Okay.”

The door clicks softly behind him, and you’re alone in the room again. The only evidence he was ever there is the indent on the mattress beside you and the faint trace of citrus still lingering in the air.

You sigh, falling back against the pillow.

You hate how badly you already want him to come back.

The small Hello Kitty sticker on the side of Jungkook’s helmet is still there.

It’s barely hanging on now, faded from years of sun and road and rain, peeling slightly at the edge like it's just waiting for someone to come along and pull it off for good. But no one ever has. Not even him.

You remember the day you put it there. It was in your third year of college, and he’d just bought the bike and rolled it into the lot, grinning proudly. He was already talking about road trips; about escaping the city and taking you everywhere just because he knew how much you loved travelling. You’d pulled the sticker from your phone case and pressed it onto the side of the helmet before he could say anything.

He’d groaned. You’d grinned. He kept it.

And now, here you are — arms wrapped around him as the motorbike hums down the road toward town, your legs pressed tight against his. You ignore the overwhelming urge to press your cheek against his back and just relax against him.

The wind is warm, laced with salt. You feel it push through your clothes and tangle your hair, but most of all, you feel him — solid in front of you, body moving in sync with the turns. His shirt is damp with heat, and your fingers rest lightly against the fabric, careful not to hold too tight.

But you want to.

You feel his breath shift when the town comes into view, a small stretch of painted buildings and narrow streets nestled between the coastline and the hills. It’s beautiful — chipped and colourful, with flags strung between rooftops and open-air shops spilling out into the street.

He pulls into a spot near the edge of the square and cuts the engine. For a second, neither of you move. Your arms are still around him. Your chest is still mere centimetres away from his back. The silence settles in like heat.

When you finally slip off the bike, the world feels too bright. You run a hand through your hair, trying to tame the wind-tangled strands, and glance back just in time to see Jungkook unbuckle his helmet and set it on the seat. The sticker catches the light. So does his smile — soft, and slightly crooked as he smoothens the edges.

You take a few steps toward the square, eyes scanning the little street corners and shaded storefronts. There’s a carved wooden sign hanging from a crooked beam, and beside it, a wire rack of postcards spinning lazily in the breeze.

But no sign of Ari. Or Namjoon.

Which is funny because it was Ari who had convinced you to come down here in the first place.

You’d been perfectly content by the beach, book in hand, half-asleep in the sun, but she’d tugged you up and kept begging you to come with her until you finally gave in.

To be fair, she did have a good reason; the house was running critically low on groceries.

Somehow, she’d managed to convince Jungkook too — which honestly, you're glad about because there's nothing you hate more than third wheeling a happy couple — but no one else was swayed enough to tag along.

And now, she's the one that's late.

You shade your eyes with your hand and glance further down the street.

“They said they’d meet us here, right?” you ask, finally.

Your voice is quiet. You’re not even sure if it’s meant to break the silence or just soften it.

Jungkook lifts his phone halfway, thumb tapping the screen like it’s muscle memory. “Yeah,” he says, not looking up right away. “Ah, Namjoon just texted me there. They just got here, so they’re probably still looking for parking or something. He said they'll meet us eventually."

You nod once and step away from the curb, eyes trailing the narrow stretch of market street ahead. Sunlight glints off the tin roofs. There’s the murmur of voices, the occasional clink of glass, and the low thrum of a radio somewhere playing a song you don’t recognise but vaguely like.

Jungkook falls in beside you without a word.

A couple passes going the opposite way, their hands intertwined. You glance down at yours.

“We should probably start,” he says after a beat. “Since they’ll just meet us.”

You shrug. “You have the list, right?”

He unlocks his phone again and scrolls. “Yeah. Ari texted it to me this morning.”

“What’s on it?”

He reads as you both start walking again. “Eggs, lemons, bread. Peaches. Some kind of pasta. And then she added ‘whatever fruit looks pretty.’”

“What's that supposed to mean," you say, amusement lacing your voice.

"No idea."

You break off from the main road, following a shaded lane lined with uneven cobblestones and quieter stalls. The air’s a little cooler here, less crowded, the noise of the market fading to a background hum. You walk slowly, letting your shoulders drop, adjusting the tote bag looped over your arm as it shifts with the weight of everything you’ve already picked up.

So far: a bundle of slightly overripe peaches, a paper-wrapped loaf of bread, lemons, and some fresh mango juice.

Jungkook had gone to find water in some corner café he'd spotted, and you’d just nodded and wandered a little further on your own, not really thinking about where your feet were taking you.

Now, you’re standing in front of a narrow stall tucked between a linen vendor and a rack of second-hand books, and the table in front of you is lined with jewellery.

Nothing fancy — just a board of earrings propped on the table, arranged in uneven rows on pale linen. Some dangle, some are simple studs. Silver, gold, brushed metal, the occasional coloured stone.

You scan them slowly, half out of habit. You’ve been keeping an eye out since yesterday, hoping you might stumble across something like the ones you lost, but nothing here is quite right. Too ornate, too polished, too intentionally handmade.

Though, one pair does catch your eye: small hoops with a single pearl hanging from it. They're pretty.

You don’t pick them up.

Just stand there, letting the edge of your bag dig slightly into your shoulder, the sun hitting your arms in slow patches between the slats of the awning overhead.

The vendor is older, seated on a stool in the corner, half-hidden behind a stack of folded cloth. She doesn’t greet you. Just watches, quiet and patient, a thread of silver hair slipping from behind her ear.

You tuck your hands into your pockets, shift your weight to the other foot.

The earrings catch the light when you shift your stance — just a soft glint where the pearl curves beneath the hoop. You stare at them a second longer than you mean to, thumb brushing the strap of the tote against your hip.

“Pretty,” someone says behind you.

You blink, half-turn.

There’s a guy standing just outside the edge of the stall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

You offer a polite nod.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “You just looked kind of... focused.”

You shrug. “Just browsing.”

He steps closer.

“Any good finds?”

Your hand tightens slightly around the bag handle. “I’m just looking at earrings.”

His eyes flick to the table like he hadn’t actually noticed it until now. “Right. The pearls are cute. I could see them on you.”

You don’t answer. Just shift your weight, subtly angling your body away.

He doesn’t pick up on it. Or maybe he does and doesn’t care.

“You from around here?” he asks, like he’s picking up a conversation that was never started.

You glance down the alley, scanning for a glimpse of Jungkook, but it’s still quiet — just the linen swaying in the heat, a burst of laughter carrying from somewhere across the square.

“No,” you say, clipped.

He smiles like that was the answer he wanted. “Yeah, figured. You’ve got that kind of—” he gestures vaguely. “Not-local look.”

You’re not sure what that means. You don’t ask.

“Vacation?” he tries again.

You glance back at the table, pretending to study a thin necklace you’re not really looking at. “I’m waiting for someone.”

The guy hums, still standing there.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, almost like it's a joke. Like he already knows what he thinks the answer is.

You don’t look at him. “Yeah.”

Another beat passes.

And he says, “Don’t see him.”

You square your shoulders slightly, still not facing him.

“I told you, I'm waiting for him. I don’t need company,” you say.

He lets out a little laugh. “I’m just making conversation.”

You press your lips together and turn, this time fully, eyes meeting his just long enough to say I’m done.

And still, he lingers.

But his smile falters for a brief second, almost as if he’s not used to not being smiled at. Not used to being dismissed.

“Look,” he says again, something shifting under his voice now — flatter, slightly annoyed, like he’s decided you’re being difficult for no reason.

You stay silent, eyes on the earrings, jaw tight.

For a second, you think about just walking away. Heading back through the stalls, finding a different corner to browse that doesn’t come with commentary and unwanted company. You should’ve just stayed with Jungkook. Should’ve waited by the fruit stand like you said you would instead of wandering off like this.

You shift your weight again, about to turn to walk away when you hear the easy scrape of sneakers against stone behind you.

Relief blooms in your chest as the steady weight of Jungkook's palm settles low on your back.

“Hey baby,” he says, voice smooth, a little softer than it needs to be. “Sorry, it took forever.”

You turn toward him instinctively, letting your shoulder brush his chest, relief flooding through you.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you. His attention is on the guy, who’s already taking a step back.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, trying for a laugh. “Didn’t realise she was taken.”

Jungkook’s tone doesn’t change. “She is.”

You don’t pull away.

The guy looks between the two of you — sizing up, maybe, but the math’s already been done. He’s not stupid. He huffs a small breath through his nose and nods, like this was all just a misunderstanding.

“All good,” he says, and turns to walk off.

Only once he’s out of sight do you finally breathe. Jungkook’s hand stays where it is.

“Fucker,” you mutter, glancing back toward the street. “I literally fucking told him I had a boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles — a quiet, amused curve of his mouth, like he’s holding back more than he’s saying.

“You delivered it well,” he says. “Had me convinced.”

You shoot him a look, but your irritation is already starting to melt at the sight of him.

“I should’ve thrown a lemon at him.”

“You did buy extra.”

That pulls a genuine laugh from you, and he hands you the water bottle like nothing happened at all. His fingers graze yours — not long enough to mean anything, but long enough to notice.

You take a sip.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods once, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Comes with the role, right?” He nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. “Acting boyfriend of the year.”

You raise a brow, lips curving. “Please, you’re barely qualified.”

"Uhm, ouch?"

You laugh again, leaning into the teasing by gently nudging his side.

Jungkook shifts beside you, elbow lightly brushing yours as he nods toward the side of the stall. “You know what we should get?”

You glance over at him, the corners of your mouth twitching. “What?”

He tips his chin toward a tray tucked beside the earrings — a neat line of woven bracelets laid out in rows, some beaded, some braided, some with tiny charms strung through the middle like afterthoughts. “Matching couple bracelets.”

Your brow lifts. “That’s bold.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Just saying. That way, if someone else tries to come up to you again, you can just lift your wrist or something. Plus, it'll get Ari off your ass.”

You look down at the bracelets. Most of them are simple. Worn leather cords. Clay beads in dusky colours. A few pale shells strung on white string. The kind of thing you would’ve scoffed at years ago. Now… you kind of like the idea.

Still, you don’t let him off that easy.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say slowly, reaching out to nudge one with your finger. It rolls in place, beads clicking softly against the table. Then, a beat later, you glance sideways at him. “You know, if you want to match with me… you could just say that.”

He scoffs under his breath, but his mouth curves like you’ve caught him. “I literally just did.”

You smile without meaning to. “No, you disguised it as self-defense.”

He leans a little closer, voice low and casual like he’s letting you in on something. “Well, your safety is my top priority.”

“Sure,” you say, dragging out the word. “Let’s pretend that’s the reason.”

Jungkook holds up both hands like he’s innocent. “Hey, if matching bracelets keep weird guys away and makes us more convincing to everyone else, I think we’ve found the perfect investment.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand lingers over one of the pairs — two braided threads in muted navy and cream. His gaze follows yours, and you don’t miss the way his fingers brush close to yours when he reaches to pick them up.

He turns one over in his hand, quiet for a moment. “These okay?”

You meet his eyes. “Yeah. They’re nice.”

He pays for them — slipping a few folded bills to the vendor without looking at you — and you don’t stop him. You just put out your hand and let him tie it around your wrist, before doing the same for him.

You both linger for a second after the knots are tied, wrists side by side, the new bracelets snug against your skin. His fingers ghost over yours when he lets go.

“See?” he says, voice soft. “Official now.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugs at your lips anyway. You’re not sure if it's from the joke or the fact that he hasn’t stepped away yet.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket, breaking whatever invisible thread was hanging between you.

He pulls it out, thumb swiping across the screen. His eyes flick across the message.

“It’s Namjoon,” he says. “They’re around the corner, by that little gelato place.”

You nod, ready to follow, but before you can move, Jungkook slips his hand into yours.

The movement is so smooth, so casual, like it’s nothing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers lace between yours with practiced ease, like they’ve done a thousand times before — because they have.

Your breath catches for half a second, but you don’t pull away.

He starts walking, gently tugging you along behind him, navigating through the narrow alley like he knows exactly where to go. His grip is firm but easy, thumb brushing once against the back of your hand as he adjusts your pace to match his.

And fuck, how you've missed this.

By the time you, Jungkook, Ari, and Namjoon made it back from town, everyone had drifted to the beach, bottles already half empty in hand. Naturally, the four of you joined in almost immediately.

Now, the sun hangs low over the ocean, melting slow into the horizon, throwing streaks of deep orange and pale lilac across the sky. The sand beneath you is warm, still holding onto the heat of the day, and the breeze smells like burnt sugar from someone’s abandoned marshmallow.

There’s a bonfire going, and everyone’s settled in a loose sprawl around it, feet kicked up, shoes long since discarded. Blankets are half-buried in the sand, and there's a speaker somewhere playing a random song no one has bothered to skip.

Seokjin and Haeun are curled together near the fire, trading sips of something dark from a flask. Taehyung’s stretched out with his head in Yasmine’s lap, sunglasses still on, despite the sun being nearly gone. Namjoon’s half-asleep, leaning back on his elbows and arguing about constellations with Hoseok.

Jungkook sits beside you. His legs are stretched out, knees bent, one arm hooked around the neck of a bottle he hasn’t touched in a while. There’s a subtle red glow along the edge of his cheek from the firelight. He’s watching the flames, brow relaxed, and you wonder if he’s even noticed how close your knee is to his.

You’re three drinks past tipsy. Four, maybe. Whatever the number is, it stopped mattering after the second time you laughed so hard your face hurt. Your skin feels flushed, limbs loose, everything a little too loud and a little too lovely.

You’re holding a glass in your hand and when you tip it back, only a lukewarm sip greets you. You shake the glass above your mouth, trying to summon more, but you only manage a few drops.

You glance around. Taehyung is still holding a beer, someone else’s drink sits forgotten near a towel, but the vodka — the one you’d claimed earlier, the one you’ve been nursing all night — is gone. Empty. Bottle tossed sideways near Kiara’s ankle.

You frown, squinting at it like it might magically refill if you look disappointed enough.

“We’re out,” you announce.

Your voice comes out rougher than you expect. The circle barely reacts — just a few shrugs, a lazy groan from someone too comfortable to care.

You push your hands against the sand and slowly rise to your feet, not bothering to brush it off your legs. The world tips, then steadies.

“I’ll grab more,” you say, already turning toward the path that leads back up the beach, toward the house.

Jungkook shifts next to you.

His voice is calm, but something in it feels closer. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

You pause, glance over your shoulder. He’s looking at you now, legs still stretched out in front of him, hand still around the neck of the bottle — but his focus is sharp. You tilt your head, expression loose.

“What, you think I’m gonna fall into a bush?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “I’m saying I’ve seen you trip over air.”

You roll your eyes, already turning back toward the path. “I’ll be fine.”

Jungkook exhales through his nose — just the smallest huff of a sound — then pushes up from the sand with a groan. He dusts off the back of his jeans, tossing the bottle onto a towel.

“Wait up,” he says, catching up to you in a few easy strides. “I’ll come.”

You pause again, frowning faintly. “You don’t have to.”

“You’re drunk,” he says simply, meeting your eyes like that should be the whole argument.

It kind of is.

You shrug, not really fighting him on it. “Fine. But you’re carrying the new bottle.”

“Deal,” he says, and you’re already walking again, sand shifting under your feet as the last of the sun bleeds into the sea behind you.

The path up from the beach isn’t long, but it stretches just enough to make you feel the weight of your steps. You walk beside him in silence at first, the kind that’s filled with the hush of your own breath and the faint pop and crackle of the fire behind you.

He walks a step behind you at first, and you can feel the rhythm of his footsteps syncing to yours.

“Still think I’m gonna trip?” you mutter, not looking back.

“I’ve seen you fall off a curb while standing still,” he says, casual.

“That was one time.”

He huffs a soft laugh. “Sure it was.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, and his mouth pulls into that crooked grin that used to mean everything to you.

It still might.

When you reach the edge of the porch, you pause to shake the sand from your ankles. He opens the screen door with one hand, letting you step through first without a word.

The air inside the house is cooler, shadows stretching across the walls where the sun hasn’t fully let go. The hum of distant music still trails in from the beach, muffled now, wrapped in layers of wood and silence.

You kick your shoes off at the door and Jungkook follows behind you.

The kitchen light is off, but there’s enough ambient glow from the setting sun through the windows to see. You move toward the counter on autopilot, stepping over someone’s forgotten hoodie on the floor. Your body’s loose, hips swinging slightly as you walk, unbothered by how your tank top’s ridden up a little from the waistband of your shorts.

Jungkook makes a soft noise behind you, like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he goes to the sink, running the tap and filling a glass.

You find the stash of liquor tucked behind the blender. Whoever stocked the place has questionable taste — peach schnapps, a half-full bottle of cheap whiskey, something unlabelled that smells like danger. But the vodka’s there, unopened. Cold from the fridge.

You pull it out with a small victorious sound and place it on the counter with a thud. The bottle’s condensation beads against your fingers.

Jungkook sets the glass of water down beside you and leans his hip against the counter.

“Drink that first,” he says, nudging the water toward you.

You groan, but reach for it anyway, your fingers brushing against his. They linger longer than they need to. You don’t move them.

“Responsible,” you murmur, bringing the glass to your lips. “Since when are you the responsible one?”

“Since you decided to replace dinner with mango juice and vodka.”

You hum at that, taking a slow sip. The water’s ice-cold, and the chill hits your throat all the way down, sharp enough to make you blink.

He watches you swallow, jaw flexing slightly.

“You’re staring,” you say, teasing, eyes glinting under the dim light.

“You’re drunk.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again if you keep looking at me like that.”

You laugh, short and soft, setting the glass down a little too forcefully. Some water sloshes over the side and you don't even care.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Liar.”

You tilt your head and smile, stepping closer, into his space. Your arm brushes against his. He doesn’t step back.

He smells like sun and sea and a little like smoke, and the sharpness of the scent makes your chest tighten. You lean your hip against the counter, closer now, your shoulder touching his as you both look at the bottle between you like it’s something important.

“You look good,” you say, and your voice is low — blurry with the buzz in your blood, but not slurred. Just honest.

He glances down at you, one brow raising, like he’s surprised but not really. “You’re drunk,” he repeats, gentler this time.

You shrug. “Still true.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just stands there, eyes still on yours, like he's waiting for something — waiting for you to laugh, maybe. To wave it off. Turn away. But you don’t. You stay close. Too close. The air between you is warm and still, humming with something you don’t want to name. Not yet.

And maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way the last of the sunset catches in his lashes, turning the brown of his eyes molten — but you swear, for a second, his gaze drops to your lips.

Your heart beats harder than it should. Like it’s thinking louder than your brain.

You shift, just slightly, your hand coming down to rest on the counter beside his. Your pinky brushes his. The silence stretches, heavy and soft, and you can feel your own pulse pressing up against your ribs like it’s trying to claw out.

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

It’s quiet — so quiet you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t already tracking everything about him. The slight shift in the set of his jaw. The way his fingers twitch once, like they want to move but don’t. He’s still watching you, still breathing like he’s trying not to let it show. But his gaze drops to your lips again and you're certain you're not imagining it this time.

“You’re drunk,” he says again, softer this time. Like he’s reminding himself.

You blink, slow and lazy, like the weight of the moment is pressing down behind your eyes. But you don’t move away. Don’t close the gap.

“Not that drunk,” you murmur, and it’s not a defense. It’s the truth, or close enough. You know how you feel. Know what you want.

Still, he hesitates.

His hand lifts like he wants to touch you — your arm, your waist, your jaw, something — but he doesn’t let it land. It just hovers there in the space between you, fingers flexing slightly. Like he’s waiting for permission. Or maybe for you to step back. Like he’s giving you one last chance not to want this.

But you don’t step back.

You hold still and let the silence stretch, taut as a wire between you.

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” he says.

You tilt your head, just a little. The corner of your mouth curls — not quite teasing, not quite sweet. “Then make sure I don't.”

That does it.

Something in him cracks. Or maybe he just exhales, finally, after holding his breath for weeks, months, too long.

He leans in.

And when he kisses you, it’s soft. So soft it makes your chest ache.

His lips brush yours like he’s scared you’ll disappear. Like he’s scared he’ll ruin it if he pushes too hard. His hand finally settles at your waist, the touch almost featherlight. You let your eyes fall shut as your fingers curl against the counter’s edge, your breath catching.

You’re not thinking clearly — not really. Your thoughts are cotton-wrapped and soft at the edges. The vodka, the heat, the way his lips feel on yours — it’s all tangled together now. You should probably be more careful with this. You should probably be thinking harder, asking him the all the questions that have been clawing at the back of your throat since the moment you two ended before letting this happen.

But you don’t want to. Not tonight.

You don’t want to pick this apart or hold it up to the light. Not when it feels like this. Not when his hands are on your waist, not when your mouth still feels like his.

Not when you’re this close to feeling whole again.

So you let it go.

Just for now.

You kiss him back slowly, deliberately, mouth parting just enough to deepen it. And when you do, he melts. A little. Just enough to let you feel the want he’s been trying not to show. The way he leans into you like he’s been waiting for this, needing this, and now that he has it, he’s terrified to let it go.

His hand at your waist grips tighter, pulling you in, and your chest brushes his. You slide one hand up to the side of his neck, your thumb brushing the curve of his throat, and he shivers under it, like the touch unravels him.

He parts your lips with his again, slower this time, and you sigh into his mouth — soft and involuntary and full of everything you haven’t said — and it pull something from him.

Jungkook's kisses turn firmer — still slow, still careful, but less afraid. Like whatever restraint he was holding onto just loosened a little.

You can feel the way his breath catches when your hand slips into his hair. The way he leans into it, barely chasing your touch. His thumb strokes slow, unconscious circles into your waist, and when your lips part again, he meets you there without hesitation.

You kiss him one more time.

Slow, like you’re trying to memorise the shape of it. Like you don’t know when you’ll let yourself have this again.

Then you pull back — not because you want to, but because if you don’t now, you might never.

It’s gentle. Barely a breath of distance. Just enough to meet his eyes, just enough to remember where you are. Your lips still tingle from the press of his, and your fingers stay curled in the fabric at his shoulder, not quite letting go yet.

His eyes flutter open, dazed and soft, and your thumb brushes the edge of his jaw before you drop your hand to your side.

Your lips hover over his, still close enough to feel the heat of him. He exhales, the sound soft and staggered.

“The others are probably waiting,” you murmur, voice low, breath a little unsteady.

His eyes open slowly, gaze heavy-lidded and warm as it settles on you. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just looks at you, like he’s trying to decide if he’s allowed to want this much.

“Let them wait," he mumbles.

You soft giggle leaves your lips at his words and he can't help but smile too, and it's real and a little stupid because of course he’d say that. Of course he’d look at you like that.

Your forehead presses gently to his for just a second, and he doesn’t move, but you feel his hand twitch at your waist, almost as if he’s not sure whether to pull you in again or let you go.

And god, part of you wants to stay. Wants to forget the weight of all the unanswered questions sitting heavy at the bottom of your stomach. Wants to let this keep happening. Just him and you and whatever the fuck this is.

But you don't. Instead, you lean back a little, just enough to get a proper look at him.

He looks dazed. Soft around the edges. His lips are pink, still wet from the kiss, and there’s this look on his face — like you could pull him back in with a single breath and he wouldn’t fight you on it.

Your gaze drops briefly to his mouth, then back up to his eyes before taking a small step back.

Your hand fall from his shirt and you reach for the vodka bottle on the counter. It’s still slick with condensation, and your grip slips slightly before you adjust.

You turn toward the door, feet padding softly against the cool floor, unable to stop smiling.

Jungkook stays behind you for just a breath, before you hear the shuffle of his steps as he follows.

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Jungkook made it back to the fire, vodka bottle in hand and cheeks just a little too flushed.

Now, the two of you sit side by side on a shared blanket, close but not too close, feet stretched out toward the fire. And despite your best efforts, you keep catching each other’s eyes.

It’s stupid. So stupid.

But every time it happens, one of you looks away, smiling.

You’re mid-sip when someone sighs dramatically into the circle, long and loud and theatrical.

“I’m bored,” Kiara announces, collapsing backwards onto a throw pillow someone must’ve stolen from the porch chairs. One arm flops over her face; the other lifts her cup to the sky dramatically

“You’re drunk,” Jimin says, somewhere behind a stack of solo cups. His voice is lazy, amused. “That’s different.”

“Drunk and bored,” she corrects, lifting her head. “Which is objectively worse.”

Someone snorts — maybe Hoseok — and Haeun mumbles something about how this is supposed to be a chill night, how she’s too full to function. You agree — the fire’s burning low, and no one looks like they’re in a rush to do anything.

Except Taehyung, who perks up suddenly, sunglasses still on even though the sun’s been gone for hours.

“We should play something,” he says, too enthusiastic. “Old-school, like we used to. Come on.”

There’s a round of groans — some weak, some performative. A few “nooo”s and a “please don’t make me move” from Namjoon. But Taehyung doesn’t let it die.

“You know what I’m thinking,” he adds, already grinning. “Truth or drink.”

That gets a bigger reaction. Jimin laughs like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all night and Kiara groans and says something you can't quite make out.

Beside you, Jungkook lets out a soft sound that might be a sigh, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You lean back on your palms and squint at the fire.

“No,” you say, not looking up. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Kiara whines, bumping your knee with hers. “It’s for old times’ sake.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung adds, already sitting up straighter, brushing sand from his thighs. “We literally used to play this every other week in college. Don’t act brand new.”

You're opening your mouth to protest and complain some more when Jungkook leans in, voice casual as he says, "I'm in."

You blink, glancing at him just quick enough to catch the faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

With a sigh, you tip the last of your drink back and swallow hard. “Fine,” you say, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “But I’m not going first.”

Taehyung cheers. Someone claps. The bottle cap twists loose, and suddenly cups are being refilled, rules half-remembered shouted into the dark.

Everyone huddles closer together, and you put out your hands in front of you, letting the warmth of the flame dance across your skin.

Yasmine spins the bottle. It wobbles across the sand, slows, then lands pointing somewhere between Ari and Namjoon.

“Ooooh,” Taehyung says, wiggling his brows. “A couple round already?”

Ari laughs, unbothered. “Hit me.”

Yasmine leans in. “Alright. If you had to kiss someone here who isn’t Namjoon—”

Namjoon throws his hands up. “Wow. First question.”

“—who would it be?”

Ari purses her lips, glancing around the circle dramatically. “Hmm… probably Haeun.”

Haeun immediately covers her face with both hands as everyone laughs, and Seokjin wraps an arm around her, pretending to shield her from further corruption. “Yah, back off,” he says, laughing.

The bottle spins again, this time landing on Jimin.

Ari smirks. “Have you ever made out with someone here and not told the group?”

Jimin lifts his cup halfway with a sigh, freezes, then drinks anyway.

You have a feeling you know who it is, but you don't say anything as Yasmine and Jungkook immediately start yelling over each other.

“Who was it?!” Yasmine demands, eyes wide.

“Seriously, who?” Jungkook adds, pointing his cup at Jimin like he’s about to interrogate him under a spotlight.

"Not telling," Jimin replies in a sing song voice before spinning the bottle.

It slows until it lands squarely on Jungkook.

You glance at him. He doesn’t flinch.

Jimin squints at him, letting out a hum like he’s considering a deep philosophical question. “Alright. What’s your biggest regret?”

You freeze before you can stop yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. He stares at the bottle. Then at Seokjin. Then, just as calmly, he picks up his cup and takes a drink.

It’s quiet for a beat. Jimin groans. “Lame.”

“Strategic,” Jungkook replies, setting his cup down again.

Without missing a beat, he reaches for the bottle and spins.

It rolls smoothly through the sand before stopping at Kiara.

“Oh god,” she mutters, already bracing herself.

Jungkook’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Weirdest place you’ve fucked.”

Kiara groans, but she’s grinning. “You guys are the worst.”

“Come on,” Yasmine says. “No way you don’t have a good one.”

She sighs, thinking. "Nowhere crazy, just in the back of his car.”

"Boringg," whines Jimin, and Hoseok just laughs as Kiara reaches for the bottle again.

It turns, slowly, then comes to a stop pointed at you.

You tense a little, just for a second. Kiara catches it — she doesn’t say anything, but her smile softens.

She tilts her head. “Would you ever take back an ex?”

You blink.

There’s a beat — just a flicker — where your brain stalls. The question lands soft, not sharp, but it still makes your pulse skip a little. You lean back on your palms and tilt your head toward the fire, letting the heat lick at your cheeks like it might hide the flush.

Then, without much thought, you answer.

“Nah,” you say, casually.

Your tone is light. You smile around the rim of your cup as you take a small sip, and raise your eyebrows at Kiara like it’s a no-brainer. Because, really, what girlfriend is going to say yes to that kind of question when her boyfriend’s sitting two feet away?

Kiara simply shrugs, like she already knew what you'd say and lean forward to spin the bottle. You don't notice who it stops at because you turning to look at Jungkook, a small smile playing on your lips.

You expect him to smile back. Or roll his eyes. Or whisper something stupid, like 'Really? Not even after you made out with him the kitchen?'.

But he doesn’t.

He’s looking at the fire.

His cup is loose in his grip, his thumb brushing over the rim once before going still. He doesn’t make a face. Doesn’t say anything. But there’s something… quiet about him now. Like he’s stepped back from the circle without actually moving.

You blink, puzzled for half a second, but someone’s already laughing at something Jimin said and Kiara’s reaching for the bottle again, so you brush it off and take another sip of your drink.

The fire pops in the background as the questions continue. Someone asks Namjoon what his favourite position is (cowgirl), how many people Haeun has slept with (three), what Yoongi's biggest fantasy it (he chooses to drink).

Eventually, someone mumbles something about calling it, and no one protests. The fire’s burned low, just embers now, and the ocean breeze has started to bite. Haeun's already dragging Seokjin to his feet, Namjoon’s helping Ari brush sand off her pants, and slowly the circle breaks apart.

You push yourself to your feet, arms wobbling a bit as you dust the sand from your shorts. It takes longer than it should. Everything takes longer than it should. You feel warm and floaty and kind of like a loose kite being dragged around by your own legs.

You’d only been asked the one question all night, but you’re pretty sure you’ve had enough to drink for ten.

Jungkook stands next to you. He doesn’t say anything, but when you wobble slightly, the back of his hand brushes yours. You grin down at your feet.

Everyone starts peeling off, drifting toward the cabins in sleepy pairs. Taehyung’s got Yasmine slung across his back like a backpack. Ari’s hanging onto Namjoon’s arm, swaying slightly. Jimin’s halfway through singing something that might be a lullaby. No one seems to care.

You and Jungkook trail behind, still barefoot, shoes forgotten somewhere near the porch.

The path back is quieter than before, but not uncomfortable. You’re humming under your breath — something soft and aimless — and you twirl the near-empty bottle in your hand like it’s a microphone.

Jungkook walks beside you, arms swinging slightly at his sides. He doesn’t say much, but he’s not far. Not ahead. Not behind. Just there. Close enough that your elbows bump once, and you giggle, not even sure why it’s funny.

The stairs creak beneath your feet as you climb up to your bedroom. He opens the door without a word, and you step past him. He follows you in, letting the door swing shut behind him.

The room is dimly lit, and you don't even consider changing into more sleep appropriate clothes before crawling onto the bed.

You hear Jungkook moving around — the soft rustle of his hoodie hitting the chair, the creak of a drawer, the small thud of his water bottle landing on the nightstand beside you. It all feels distant, muffled by your buzzed brain.

You roll over dramatically just as he switches off the light. The room falls into shadows, and then the bed dips beside you as he climbs in.

You grin up at the ceiling.

“This was fun,” you say, voice low but still sing-songy.

Jungkook lets out a little sound in response.

The sheets are cool. The pillow smells like the detergent he always uses. You pull the blanket halfway over yourself and nudge your foot toward his under the covers without even thinking about it.

No words pass between you.

But it doesn’t feel weird. Just sleepy. Soft. Like the good kind of tired that settles behind your eyes after a long night.

You don’t notice how quiet Jungkook’s gone. Don’t notice that he hasn’t moved since lying down. You’re not paying attention to the way he’s staring up at the ceiling, or the way he hasn’t turned toward you at all.

You just let out a small sigh and mumble, “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, voice low and barely there, he asks, “Did you mean it?”

You’re already slipping into sleep when he says it — and maybe he’s talking about the game, or something from earlier, or maybe he’s not talking to you at all. You’re too warm, too tired to figure it out, so you just hum quietly and roll over, cheek pressed into the pillow.

He doesn’t say anything else, and the silence settles again.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the question lingers, but you don’t ask.

You’ll think about it tomorrow.

< prev • next > | series masterlist | main masterlist

[aaclariww]

the road not taken 08 | myg

part eight: truce

Summary: After all this years, and months, and days where —no matter what you did or what you didn’t do— you still had to see Yoongi against you wishes, you began to worry if you were meant to find him every time.

<part seven

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff.

—words: 10.6k

—a/note: hi friends!! i'm posting this chapter while doubting myself as always but i had sososo much fun writing i hope you liked it!! i wanted to post it earlier but consider this as an earlier celebration for yoongi's discharge !! also, the other day i was reminded of this poem and it kinda inspired me to finish writing the chapter, i hope you enjoy and as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in the asks!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Present

There was a time a few years ago, back when you slept in a bed for two and winter sneaked under your sheets, when the treacherous thought of what could’ve been knocked on your door before you fell asleep every night. Even when you tried to push it away, even when you threw your pillow over your head, even seconds before those 2 mg of melatonin were about to kick in, the question still tormented your mind. There, in the dark of your room as the lights of the city poorly illuminated the place, you wondered if there was a timeline, a different reality where everything worked out.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine a universe where everything was alright—one where Yoongi apologized for not calling after that night, and when you saw him that cold December morning, he’d be so happy to see you that the frown on his face would disappear.

Maybe in that universe, he would’ve asked you to stay for lunch, and maybe you would’ve helped him with his mom for the rest of the winter so she wouldn’t be mad at him. You tortured yourself thinking that maybe Yoongi would’ve planned the trip to the beach for the end of spring. You imagined what kind of shorts he would’ve packed, what kind of t-shirts, what kind of pajamas. You wondered if he would’ve let you stop at every old diner on the side of the road, if he would’ve taken your picture at every stop, if he would’ve kissed you just before you changed seats when it was your turn to drive.

Ever since that day, you’d rolled in bed wondering if he ever pictured you the same way you had so many times—if he saw you in the passenger seat of his car, on the sand by the sea, on the blue sheets, in hotel towels.

Looking at the ceiling, with eyes wide open, you always ended up thinking: would it have been so bad to follow you? Would he have gotten tired of your laughter so quickly? Of your fingers running down his back, of your words hanging from your lips just before you were about to make fun of him? Would he have gotten tired of your arguing, your cursing, your dragging feet? Would the memory of the few hundred kisses he gave you that night have worn out that fast?

You knew thinking about it was a waste of time, but as you were getting ready to have dinner with Nari, all those unanswered questions resurfaced—just in case you wanted to think twice and stay home, like you were so tempted to do.

On the edge of her bed was Minnie, sitting next to her cat as she watched you do your eyeliner. She had already apologized for snapping at you a few days ago, which forced you to recognize that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely cool with Yoongi being around, and you weren’t completely cool with him being involved in a place that had nothing to do with him, nothing except you. 

But surprisingly, against all odds—against all Yoongis—you wanted to stay. Not only because saying yes to Minnie and then quitting would’ve been completely cruel, but because you wanted to. You stayed because some part of you, the part you kept trying to silence, didn’t want to leave just yet.

You were still bitter that Minnie stayed friendly with Yoongi—but that started to fade when you told her he wanted to “talk things through” (whatever that meant). She was your best friend again the second she joined you in talking shit, trying to dissect everything he said like it was a crime scene that needed solving.

“So…” Minnie tilted her head, eyeing you. “Is he picking you up?”

“He said so.”

She paused for a moment, picturing that image in her head. “You know he has a girl, right?” she said, snorting. “I would freak out if I were Blondie. Imagine finding out your boyfriend is driving his famous ex-girlfriend to have dinner with his mom. God, no. I’d throw up.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh at how fast her imagination could run. “He’s not my ex-boyfriend, Minnie… and he’s not driving me—we’re walking. He asked if we could have a chat before dinner, so she shouldn’t worry too much.” You said, turning from the mirror to sit beside her and slip on your Mary Janes. “And besides… you shouldn’t be gossiping about your friend, you know?” 

Minnie scoffed. “Whatever, it’s none of my business, but since when has that ever stopped me?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, it’s not gossip if it’s true.” She huffed. “Did you know that he can’t keep a girl? I mean, maybe that’s not the right way to put it, because he can—he totally could. But maybe he just doesn’t want to.” 

“Charming,” you muttered, fussing a little too long with the strap of your shoe. “He’s always been like that.” 

Minnie leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s not just that—it’s like he gets bored. I’ve seen it happen a few times. He meets a girl, keeps her around for a few weeks, and then poof. Gone.”

You paused, curiosity flickering despite yourself. “Wait, what do you mean? Like he ghosts them?”

“No, I don’t think he ghosts them.” She said “It’s like he fades out. Stops texting as much, stops making plans. Let things die off slow.”

You glanced up, forcing your expression to stay neutral, though your fingers lingered a bit too long on the buckle. “Like a soft breakup?”

Minnie smiled, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “It’s not really a breakup, though, is it? Not if he’s not actually in a relationship. That’s what he keeps saying about that blonde girl—‘the girl I’m seeing,’” she mimicked in a teasing tone. “Like he’s afraid of it getting too serious.”

You gave a small, distracted nod, not trusting yourself to say much. It was weird hearing that—how casual he was with other people. But it wasn’t difficult to imagine him like that; he never had proper girlfriends back in high school, which, at the time, felt like a small mercy. But that didn’t spare you from watching him parade around with a new girl every other week.

“How do you even know all that?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Namjoon,” Minnie said, like it was obvious. “He works with Yoongi sometimes. He told me.”

You laughed, eyebrows lifting. “Namjoon? Isn’t he Yoongi’s friend? Why would he spill that to you?”

“Because he likes me,” she said breezily, without missing a beat. “Didn’t I tell you that already? I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he’s helping out at The Alley. Look—I don’t believe in exploiting my charm to get things from men, but if it’s for an extremely good cause?” She gave a shrug. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, he’s not a weirdo. He’s actually really cute.”

You snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it. Does he still wear those glasses?”

Her eyes lit up. “The glasses are so cute.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“It wasn’t just Namjoon, though,” she added. “I can read people.”

“Yoongi’s not easy to read,” you said, quieter this time. “Maybe you’re reading him wrong.”

“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head “I told you, with you… it was different. It’s like he can’t talk about you, or even hear your name. It stings him, I know it wasn’t like that with you.”

You let out a dry laugh. For some reason, you already knew it was different with you. Even now, you could still swear it was. You could look into Yoongi’s eyes and see everything through, it meant something, but that didn’t make it any less bad. “Yeah, it was different.” You muttered, rising to your feet and brushing invisible dust from your skirt, just to have something to do. “It was worse.”

Minnie tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You know,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully “maybe you broke him. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep a girl now. You ruined his capacity for normal relationships.”

You laughed, surprised by how easily it came out. “Please. That boy was malfunctioning way before me.”

“Perhaps,” Minnie said, pretending to consider it. “But you broke him for good.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile lingered. “We weren’t even together, Minnie. We barely got started.”

She crossed her arms behind her head “C’mon… You fucked. You fucked like, a lot.”

You snorted, eyes squeezing shut. “God.”

“Maybe that’s how you did it,” she said with a shrug, grinning. “Scrambled his brain. That poor man never stood a chance.”

You covered your face, laughing into your hands. “Can you not? I have to look him in the eye.”

“Oh, please. What if he can’t get it up with anyone else now? What if that’s why he dumps them?” She smirked. “God, I’d kill to ruin a man like that.”

You shook your head. “You’re deranged.” 

Minnie just smiled, clearly proud of it. 

Still chuckling, you grabbed your phone. Just as you were about to slip it into your bag, the screen lit up with a new message.

Yoongi: I’m outside.

“Speaking of the devil.” You sighed, suddenly feeling nervous.  

“Hell is empty.” She whispered, dramatically. “And all the devils are here.”

You seemed to be stuck in a constant fight between the present and the past, even after all the times you’d tried to leave things behind. But the past had a way of finding you—softly, stubbornly—whether you liked it or not.

This time, though, you had a choice. When Yoongi texted you a few days ago, you could’ve ignored it. You could’ve said you’d changed your mind, told him to fuck off, and left it at that. It wasn’t like you owed him anything. You didn’t have to talk to him, didn’t have to look at him, didn’t have to remember.

It was stupid, really, but you guessed this was also a small part of your redemption arc. Facing Yoongi. Giving things a proper ending. Trying to behave like a decent, grown-up human being, even when some parts of you still refused, even when it still stung. 

So here you were, heart picking up pace with every step as you pushed the door open, letting the cold hit your face just as his long figure turned to face you. 

Yoongi stood by the stair railings, cheeks and nose pink from the wind, hair slightly messy and a long grey coat, different from his usual black one. His eyes lit up just barely, but you caught it.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, careful.

“Hi…” You muttered, letting the door click shut behind you. Then, glancing at his coat, “Is it that cold?”

He looked down, shrugged. “A bit, yeah.”

You groaned as you started walking, the sidewalk still damp from a recent rain. “I should’ve worn pants.”

You heard his footsteps fall beside you as you turned the corner, knowing the way to his childhood home from memory. He kept careful distance between you, but you could feel him regardless.

The street was quiet, just the low hum of cars in the distance and the occasional gust of wind threading between the buildings. You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets. He did the same.

For a moment, it was like neither of you knew how to speak.

Then Yoongi cleared his throat, barely louder than the wind. “You really staying for the whole thing?”

You glanced sideways at him. “The play?”

“Yeah. I thought you were just visiting,” He said, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. 

“No, um… I’m staying for a bit. At least until December. For the play, and some other stuff, too.” you added, unsure what else to say. The truth was that you didn’t have any idea what you were going to do in the next months, but that was the plan for now.

“Great,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re staying. When you left the other day, I thought you were about to quit.”

You didn’t answer right away. The streetlight ahead blinked weakly.

“Oh, I thought about it,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t do that to Minnie. And… I like yelling at kids.”

He let out a low laugh. “Clearly your calling.”

That made you smile. You didn’t mean to—but he caught it, and didn’t comment. Just kept walking beside you like he hadn’t noticed at all.

“You still do that thing where you tap your fingers when you’re nervous,” he said after a minute, eyes on your hand wrapped around your bag strap.

You glanced at him. “You still bring up things no one asks you to notice.”

He gave a small laugh. “Right. Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“No, I’m not.”

The sidewalk went quiet again. A bus rattled by on the other side of the street, loud enough to fill the space between words. Neither of you turned to look.

“So?” you said eventually, looking at him. “You told me you were going to figure something out.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I did say that.”

But then he fell quiet again.

You gave him a look. “Well?”

He blinked, caught in thought. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I guess I’m realizing that no matter what I come up with, you’ll still want me six feet under, so it’s… complicated.”

You looked at him. “It’s not that I want you buried, Yoongi.”

He looked at you then—really looked, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “That’s… something.”

“It’s just…” You exhaled, keeping your voice even. “I’m not in the best mood these days.  And honestly, you’re not exactly the person I’d choose to spend the night with. I’m confused. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here.”

“I don’t either,” he said, quiet but honest. “But I’m trying. And I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to fight with you.”

You stayed silent. You weren’t sure if you agreed with that. There was still a part of you that would take any opportunity to push him away.

You didn’t answer. A moment passed before you heard him sigh.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, you know?” he murmured after a few seconds. There was a weight to his words, an understanding only the two of you could share. The sentence echoed in the quiet street, it echoed inside your chest and rang your ears, making you clench your fists. 

“I know.” You muttered, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk, the rhythm of your steps careful. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He looked ahead, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his breath visible in the cold air. “Well… I don’t know. Maybe I have to.”

You shook your head slightly, not quite looking at him. “But that’s the point. We don’t know each other anymore. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.” You paused, letting the words hang between you both. “That doesn’t have to do with anything.”

His voice softened, but his words didn’t waver. “That has to do with everything.” He glanced at you, his gaze steady but unsure. “We’re going to see each other. We’re part of each other’s lives.”

You’re not part of my life, you wanted to say. You’d worked hard to make sure of that—to push him out, to forget. And yet here he was again, walking beside you like no time had passed at all.

“I don’t know.” You sighed “I’m gonna be honest, that doesn’t feel like a good reason to me. History doesn’t mean we owe each other anything.” 

“Maybe not,” he said, quiet now. “But we still share it. Whether we like it or not. You’re part of mine. You always have been.” He gave you a quiet look, but you didn’t dare to look at him back. “Just look at my mom. She talks about you like you’re her child. She adores you, we can’t… erase that.” 

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the mention of his mother. 

This was the second time Yoongi had brought her up to get to you — and this time, you couldn’t say he was wrong.

You always had a weak spot for Nari. She always made you feel like you belonged, it was the kind of feeling you held onto when you were young, it was the kind of feeling you were still chasing after all these years. 

“So, what are you proposing?” you asked, exhaling slowly. “Because I love your mom, Yoongi. But maybe I don’t want to be friends with you. We can’t… I can’t ignore the past, I can’t pretend you didn’t hurt me and nothing happened.”

The silence almost killed the both of you.

That was the first time either of you had said it out loud.

Yoongi didn’t flinch, but something in him shifted. You could feel it.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, voice low. “And I know I can’t rewrite things. I’m not trying to wipe that clean.”

He paused, jaw tightening for just a second.

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said after a moment. “Or to act like it didn’t matter. I know it did.”

He glanced at you, voice careful. “But we’re not the same people anymore. Things are different. We’re different.”

He shrugged, like he didn’t want to let the silence swallow him whole.

“It’s not just that, Yoongi,” you said, almost whispering. “A lot of things changed—everything changed after I left. After everything you said. It’s not that easy to get past it.”

“I know that, too…” he said, quieter now. “I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

He sighed, like he was still choosing the words that wouldn’t come.

“I’m not saying you’re an asshole.” You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I know you’re not. And I know you’re trying to do things right. That’s the part that bothers me.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you for a second, like he wanted to respond but wasn’t sure how.

Then he nodded slowly.

“We can work together without dragging the past into every room. That’s all I’m saying. I’m not asking for friendship… just a middle ground.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know… we can’t just act like we don’t exist in each other’s world anymore.”

“A middle ground?” You repeated. 

“A truce.”

For fuck’s sake. 

You had never been one to hold back, it was quite the opposite. You were explosive, and you never thought twice. A truce wouldn’t mean the same thing to Yoongi as it would to you. To you, a truce would mean biting your tongue, going against your own nature.

But then again, you could try. Maybe a truce wasn’t about forgiving him. Maybe it was about choosing not to let him take up more space in your head than he already did.

So you let the tension in your shoulders ease, just barely, and gave a tight nod.

Not agreement. Just permission—to stop fighting for a minute.

“A truce.” You repeated again, but the word rooted in your mouth. There was a beat of silence before you spoke again. You exhaled, watching your breath fog in the cold air. “And what would be the terms of this truce?”

His gaze drifted forward, like he was choosing his next words carefully. He shifted his weight, his eyes flicking to you. “Okay. Terms of the truce.”

You crossed your arms, not quite looking at him. “You stop using your mom to get to me.”

He nodded, no sign of protest. “Fair. Then you stop looking at me like you’d rather walk into traffic than stand next to me.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I can’t promise that. But I’ll try to keep it subtle.” you said “Anything else?”

You saw the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “No snapping at each other,” he said. “No snarky comments. No pretending the other person doesn’t exist.”

You hummed, unconvinced. 

“No dragging each other into arguments we don’t have to have,” he added. “We stay civil. We work together when we need to. We don’t make things harder than they already are.”

You glanced at him. “And what do we do when it gets hard anyway?”

He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the only sound was the scrape of your shoes on the pavement.

You weren’t asking out of curiosity. You were asking because you knew yourself — knew how quickly your temper rose, how sharp your tongue could get when he looked at you the wrong way, or said something in that calm, unreadable tone that made you feel like you were the only one still bleeding from the past.

And Yoongi, in his usual way, was probably wondering if this was the part where you gave up, where you proved him right, that the two of you couldn’t exist in the same space without turning it into a battlefield.

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“We deal with it,” he said simply. “Like two people who can handle being in the same room.”

You stared straight ahead, your jaw tight. There was a sting in your chest you chose not to name.

“That’s a lot of rules,” you said.

“It’s just one,” Yoongi replied. “Don’t make each other miserable.”

You didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no either.

And maybe — for now — that was the best either of you could offer.

Standing in the hall of Yoongi’s apartment felt like breaking a pact you’d made with yourself—an oath you swore years ago to never come back. You never thought you’d find yourself here again, walking down this hallway, watching him open the doors of the old elevator. It felt like a small betrayal, even if Yoongi didn’t live here anymore. 

Simon had told you Yoongi moved to an apartment near the center of town three years ago. Probably a tall building with a modern elevator, the kind that played music when you pushed the buttons, with white lights and a security guard at the entrance. Just like yours in the city.

It was hard to picture Yoongi there, in his old man sweaters and fuzzy socks, sitting by the window and looking out at the town. He didn’t seem like he belonged in a place like that. It felt like he only ever belonged here.

He closed the doors behind you and stood there, looking at the buttons before pressing the one for the fourth floor. You watched him as the yellowish lights illuminated his side profile, the curve of his nose, his hooded eyes. You looked without any kind of shame, allowing yourself to observe him: his long hair, the marks on his skin, the mole on his cheek just beside his nose, his eyelashes, the earring in his ear, and the empty holes from past piercings.

You couldn’t help but recall that winter night from four years ago every now and then, but now, standing here, it felt almost impossible not to. In the same place where he once pressed you against the wall and kissed you, it felt like it had happened just yesterday.

You remembered lying beside him, taking your time to memorize every detail like you had all the time in the world. And back then, it felt like you did. You counted the moles on his body, traced the veins along his hands and arms with your fingers, touched his lips, kissed his lips, his neck, his cheeks, his chest.

You didn’t remember ever kissing someone that much. You could almost swear that, even in your three-year relationship with Ian, you hadn’t kissed him as many times as you did in those three days spent in Yoongi’s old bedroom, on his bed, in his kitchen, on his couch, in his shower, against the wall, and against the floor.

You remembered kissing him in the morning light, when the sun came through the window and hit his face, making him scrunch his nose and close his eyes. But there was something entirely different about kissing him in the dark—between sheets and secrets and shaky breaths—something about the feeling of having him all to yourself that you could never forget. It was engraved in your memory, like the shape of his lips had been tattooed onto yours, and from then on, no kiss had ever felt the same.

You used to know him. Not only the way his body moved, or how his hand fit around your hips. Not just the vessel of his body, but the person he used to be. Inside and out, you knew him.

You didn’t notice earlier. You didn’t notice at The Alley or when you saw him at your house the day you arrived. It seemed to have escaped you—only now could you see that he looked tired. It wasn’t just that he looked older, or the long day he must have had at work today. It was something else.

You didn’t have time to wonder about it for too long. When the elevator shook, you looked away.

It took you less than two minutes to reach the door, and when Yoongi opened it and stepped aside to let you in, the warmth of the apartment hit you—then the smell. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been on the way up. Now, you were surprised to feel weirdly comforted.

You both kicked your shoes off without thinking too much. You paused, sniffing the air. “Wait… is that—?”

“Doenjang jjigae,” he said, already pulling off his coat. “Mom said you liked it.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself. “I haven’t had it in forever.”

Yoongi disappeared down the hallway without another word, leaving you standing in the entryway, coat still on your shoulders, unsure if you should follow.  

You were still taking in the warmth and scent of the apartment when Nari appeared from the kitchen doorway, steady on her walker. The metal frame clinked softly against the floor as she moved towards you, a dish towel draped over one arm.

“Oh, there she is!” she said, eyes lighting up. “You’re already here!”

You smiled, stepping forward to meet her. “Hey, Nari.”

She opened her arms without letting go of the walker. “Come here, don’t be shy.” She gave you a quick hug, careful and slow. 

You leaned in for the hug, careful not to bump into the metal frame. Her embrace was as firm as ever, if a little slower to pull back.

“You didn’t have to cook just for me,” you said, even though the smell from the kitchen was already making your stomach growl. 

She waved you off. “Nonsense, I wanted to. And you’re too skinny. You still don’t eat breakfast, do you?”

You gave a small laugh, not quite answering. Behind her, Yoongi reappeared, carrying two sets of bowls. He glanced at the two of you, then cleared his throat.

“Uh, Mom—did Summer already leave?”

Nari looked over her shoulder. “Yes, she helped me chop vegetables and argued with me about how much salt to use. Then she left about an hour ago.” She turned back to you, smiling as she walked towards the table. “I didn’t tell her you were coming because she would’ve wanted to stay longer. She is such a fan of yours, you know?”

You smiled, not sure who she was talking about “She is?”

“Oh yes,” Nari said easily. “She’s my nurse. She’s been helping me around the house for a few months now. Sweet girl. Blonde, tall, always so well put-together. She said she saw you once—at that theater… what’s it called…?”

You blinked “The Alley?”

“Yes! That’s the one.” Nari nodded. “She mentioned seeing you there, said she didn’t want to bother you, but she was excited all week after that.”

You breath caught for a beat as you put two and two together. 

Yoongi glanced up from where he was setting the bowls, his hands slowing just slightly. His fingers hesitated over the chopsticks, then adjusted them again

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t have to.

It was her. The blonde girl outside The Alley. The one he’d shown up with. The one who kept looking at you like she wanted to say something but never did.

You stood there, trying not to think about how perfect she had looked standing next to Yoongi. Tall. Blonde. Model-like. The kind of girl who probably made people stare twice on the street—not because they recognized her, but because she was the type people noticed.

And she was a nurse. Of course she was.

You almost laughed, but the hole in your stomach didn’t let you. 

It was so unnecessary, such a waste of time to even think about it. Still, it was hard not to wonder, just for a second, if that was his type. Someone steady, soft-spoken and kind. Someone you were not. 

“Oh,” you said, quiet, folding your coat over your arm and smoothing the fabric a little too carefully. “I think I remember her.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened—just barely—and he reached for the next bowl, though his grip looked a little too firm, like he was afraid he might drop it. Was this uncomfortable for him? Was it for you? 

“Oh? Really?” Nari asked, “I’ll tell her you did, she’ll lose her mind.” 

You smiled, what else could you do? 

Chasing the thoughts away, you let it go, like you were supposed to. 

A few moments later, the three of you were sitting at the table and you were grateful to be thinking of something else. The dining table wasn’t large, not like the one back at your family’s house, always too long, always full of guests. Here, everything felt more familiar, closer, like time didn’t pass at all inside this house. There was only ever Nari and Yoongi, and now there was you.

You tried to change the subject. “You should’ve invited Simon, too. He’s probably around, isn’t he?” You asked Nari.

Nari waved a hand, “Simon is here all the time, and he eats all the food. Besides” her eyes twinkled “I wanted it to be just you and Yoongi tonight.”

There was something innocent in her tone, offhanded even, but the words hung in the air a second too long. 

The evening settled into a quiet rhythm after that.

The doenjang jjigae steamed between you, warm and familiar, and the table slowly filled with other dishes — kimchi, anchovies, steamed egg, bowls of white rice. You found yourself relaxing, bit by bit, lulled by the sound of chopsticks against ceramic, the occasional clink of glasses being refilled, and Nari’s steady voice weaving from one topic to the next. 

She talked about her book club, the women at the community center who were always getting into harmless gossip. She talked about her last checkup, her doctor’s advice to cut back on salt and how she, of course, had ignored it.

You enjoyed listening to her, your flushed face resting in your hands, leaning over the table and laughing every time she said something funny. But all she really wanted to talk about was you, even if you’d rather talk about anything else in the world

“So, are you working on another movie?” Nari asked. “We went to see your last one with Yoongi. We loved it.”

You smiled, eyebrows lifting in surprise, finding that very funny for some reason. “You did?” you said, glancing at him. 

“Of course. It was so sad, he almost cried,” she added, nodding towards him.

You snorted. “You cried?”

Yoongi kept his eyes on the bowl. “I didn’t.”

Nari rolled her eyes. “He did.”

“I had allergies,” he muttered.

“During summer?” You asked. 

He looked at you, shaking his head, not willing to answer. You bit back at smirk. 

You tried to imagine Yoongi buying tickets for your movie last summer—walking into the theater, sitting there for two hours, watching you. You tried to imagine him taking advantage of the darkness to let himself cry, then leaving, trying to forget about it and go on with his day. It was a strange image. You had never mixed that part of your life with this one—mainly because this was the part you'd left behind. But you’d never really stopped to consider that your life kept happening everywhere, even if you weren’t there to see it.

“There is no shame in crying during movies.” Nari said, being unaware of the two of you. “You pick very sad ones, dear.”

You laughed softly. “Well, they only ever want me for sad films these days,” you said, lifting your glass. “They tell me I have sad eyes. Whatever that means.”

Nari tilted her head, studying you closely. “You do have a melancholic stare, sweetheart. But it’s a beautiful thing. You say more with your eyes than you do with your voice.”

You caught the faint smile that tugged at Yoongi’s lips as he stared into his bowl.

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, returning the smile, warmth spreading in your chest. “I just hope that doesn’t get me in trouble.” You leaned back slightly, more at ease now. “But no, I don’t have any projects at the moment. I want to spend more time with my mom—sleep more, eat more... Besides, I took a job at the theater, so I’ll be busy with that until December.”

“Right, Yoongi mentioned that,” Nari said, folding her hands together with a small smile. “He said everyone was happy to see you again. How long has it been?”

You glanced away, trying to remember the last time you'd been at The Alley. The dates blurred together.

“Two years ago,” Yoongi said before you could answer.

You turned to him in surprise. He cleared his throat.

“You were there for the Bong Joon-ho week,” he added, not quite meeting your eyes. “Memories of murder.”

You nodded slowly, the memory coming back immediately, but he wasn’t part of it. 

“I don’t remember seeing you there…” You said, feeling the weight of the sudden silence of the room. 

He looked away, “I was there, I just… sat very close to the back.” 

Your lips parted, then curved into a polite smile. “Well, it’s been a while.” You turned back to Nari, keeping your tone light. “But honestly, not much has changed over there.”

Nari leaned in slightly. “So, what are you doing there, exactly?”

“She’s working with the kids,” Yoongi cut in, quick to respond. 

You flicked your eyes towards him, not irritated—just surprised at how ready he was to speak for you.

Nari brightened. “That sounds so sweet. I’m sure they’re thrilled.”

“They are,” Yoongi added. “They’re obsessed with her. She’s kind of a big deal.”

You gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. I just showed up. They’re the ones doing all the real work.”

She looked at you with a bright expression. “You’re being modest.”

 “No, really. I just wanted to help. They’re so enthusiastic. It’s kind of impossible not to get pulled in.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“Mostly helping them rehearse, learn lines, fix costumes. Nothing too dangerous.”

Yoongi laughed under his breath. “She’s being humble. She’s running the show.”

“Well…”

“And doing it well. Even if she nearly bit my head off the first day.” He casually mentioned, catching you off guard. 

It was still strange — how easy this seemed to him. To bring you back here, look at you in the eyes, the teasing, the warmth, the casual way he slipped back into before, like nothing had happened. Like he could just talk to you like that.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It made you nervous.

This was the point of the truce, being civil, not picking at old wounds. But still, it felt like he was settling into something softer, something that didn’t exist anymore. Like he wanted something gentler from you, and wasn’t even aware of it. 

And maybe the worst part was… you kept letting him. Not because you’d forgiven him. Not because you weren’t still angry. But because there was something in the way he looked at you tonight — cautious and familiar — that made it hard to stay guarded all the way through.

You rolled your eyes. “That was entirely your fault.”

Nari let out a laugh, eyes dancing between you both. “You two had a fight? How shocking.”

“It wasn’t a fight…” you murmured, glancing sideways at Yoongi with a look that wasn’t quite sharp but definitely not warm. “It was just… a disagreement.”

“I was just trying to help,” he said, lifting his hands in mock defense. “Provide legal advice for the screenplay.”

“You weren’t hired to be a lawyer,” you shot back, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Not on Saturdays, at least.”

“I’m always a lawyer, Pinky.”

The nickname hung in the air a second longer than it should’ve. But this time, you didn’t flinch.

You looked at him for a second, biting your lip. You wanted to say something, but turned to his mom instead, deciding to ignore it. “See, Nari. That’s the thing with lawyers, they always need to be right.”

“That sounds very much like Yoongi.” She chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “But don’t let the whole lawyer act fool you, dear. He’s been like that since forever. Always has to get the last word, even if it’s nonsense.”

You let out a soft breath of laughter. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

“C’mon,” Yoongi cut in, nudging the air between you, “you’re exactly the same.”

You tilted your head, giving him a mock-frown. “Except I’m actually always right.”

Nari hummed thoughtfully, her smile not quite innocent. “Well, I don’t know who’s right, but I do know I hate seeing you two fight.” 

You looked down at your fingers on the table, avoiding her eyes. 

“We’ll try not to.” Yoongi said, and it felt like a promise. 

“Anyway,” you said, catching your breath, “the kids are very committed. And the place needs all the help it can get, so I’ll be there for a while.”

Yoongi nodded, quieter this time. “It’s good that you’re there.”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t teasing now. And for a moment, it made the air feel heavier — not in a bad way, but enough to make you blink and look back at your plate.

Nari, thankfully, filled the space with a soft “That theater’s lucky to have you, sweetheart.”

You smiled at her, grateful. “Thanks. I think I needed it too.”

As the night slipped away, you let yourself fall into a kind of quiet familiarity you hadn’t felt in a long time, while you and Yoongi washed the dishes. Nari sat by the window, watching the two of you with the soft scrutiny only a mother can offer, remarking that Yoongi looked taller lately, that your skirt was too thin for a cold night like this, and that Yoongi should straighten his posture. 

“You two make a good team.” She said, observing Yoongi hand you a pair of clean glasses. 

You laughed, but neither of you said anything to contradict her, you wouldn’t dare to. 

You stayed in the kitchen a little longer, watching the rain return, soft against the glass. That’s when Nari suggested Yoongi drive you home—it was late, after all. 

You didn’t argue. You had spent the whole evening with him, you were sure you could endure another five minutes in his presence if that meant you didn’t have to pay an Uber. 

When it was time to leave, you hugged Nari goodbye. She held on a little longer than expected, her hands soft and familiar against your back. 

“You’ll come next week for tea, right?” she asked, giving you a look that wasn’t really a question.

You smiled, nodding. “Of course.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” She patted your cheek like she used to, and then turned towards the hallway. 

“Come on, Yoongi, help me with the stupid pills.” Yoongi shot you a glance—apologetic, maybe—but didn’t say anything as he followed her down the hall. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Sleep tight, Nari.” You smiled, watching them disappear as you waited in the kitchen.

Their voices drifted in and out. Nari asked where she’d left her robe. Yoongi reminded her not to mix up the bottles. A drawer opened, something clinked shut. You listened to him saying goodbye to her, it was the kind of domestic rhythm you weren’t supposed to be a part of. 

A moment passed before Yoongi came back to the kitchen, with a small smile on his face as he gestured to the door. You repeated the same cycle in reverse: you put on your coats, took the elevator down in silence, walked the hallway and waited for him to unlock the door.

The rain fell over you as soon as you put foot on the streets, so you hurried to get to Yoongi’s car. He opened the door for you and you got in, sinking into the seat as you watched him walk around the car and get it. When he started the engine, the radio came on automatically, playing some Jeff Buckley song, so low you could barely hear it.

He’d changed his car, you noticed. You didn’t know anything about cars, but this one was bigger than the last—more modern. Yoongi’s old car had a busted, almost ancient stereo, and under his seat, there was a folder of CDs he used to let you choose from every time you were in the car with him. You repressed the urge to ask if he still had it. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him briefly, but his eyes were fixed on the road. “I had a good time. You don’t have to thank me…”

He nodded. “I know, but still…” He paused, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. “It’s been a long time.”

You just hummed, refusing to acknowledge such a thing as time.

A silence settled between you, the hum of the engine filling the space. Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

“Was that true?” you asked suddenly. “That thing your mom said about the movie, that you cried?”

The question didn’t seem to surprise him, but he hesitated to answer for a second. “Maybe… Perhaps I teared up a little.” 

You pressed your lips together, eager to know more. “Can I ask why?”

His fists clenched around the steering wheel, but he did not look at you. “You’re good at making people cry, I guess.” He said, his tone even. “You’re good.”

You sank deeper into the seat, feeling your heart slightly clenching. 

By the time you arrive at Minnie's apartment, there was still something lingering in the air. Something you were both hoping to let go tonight. This wasn’t quite a closure, not even a goodbye. You weren’t sure if it would ever be something such as that.

The car stopped. The rain kept falling over you, and it was time to call it a night.

You looked at him for a moment before opening the door. Your gaze crashed into his, and for the briefest second, you felt electrified.

Another song from the same album kept playing softly. The engine was still running. The windows were all fogged up. You had nothing to prove there, nothing left to lose that night. In that moment, you could admit it: he was right—you were part of his life, and he was part of yours.

There had been something between you then, just as there was now, and somehow, you knew there always would be. You had just never known what to call it, and maybe that was what made it linger.

“Good night, Yoongi,” you said, opening the door and letting the chill of the night sneak into the car.

“Good night, Pinky.” He let out, like a breath he had been holding for too long. 

Then, you disappeared into the night. 

One of the many reasons you’d been at odds with this town since you were young was the lingering suspicion that it was cursed. Not cursed like in horror movies, where kids disappeared or something tragic happened every other day, but the kind of curse that quietly followed you around—the kind that hovered over you at the bus stop. It was in the dark winter evenings, in the sound of autumn leaves dragging across the street as you walked home at night, in the stillness of time as it passed. It was the frightening feeling that nothing ever changed.

In the city, everything was ever-changing. Everything was shiny and new, and every night felt different from the one before. There were moments when everything seemed fine—when you were convinced this was the life you were meant to lead all along, and your heart felt full, your soul complete, and no one could ever take it away from you.

But there were other moments, brief moments, when you walked down the street alone at night and could still hear the autumn leaves dragging across the pavement, following you home.

Over time, you began to realize that maybe your hometown was just a small town like any other. You supposed it was normal to bump into people you’d rather not see at the grocery store, at the theater, even in your own house. But then, as you grew up, another fear surged from the pit of your stomach: the suspicion that maybe you were the one who was bewitched, that you were the one carrying the curse wherever you went.

You thought you were almost used to it—the breakup with Ian, the leaked pictures, seeing Yoongi in your home the night you arrived, and running into him at The Alley days later. The more you tried to avoid it, the more it seemed to find you. But this time, it caught you off guard. 

The coffee shop down the street from The Alley had always been your favorite. It was small, so small you could hear the people talking down in the kitchen and the barista complaining about her ex boyfriend. There was a whole wall filled with books and you could grab any one you wanted to read as you were waiting for your order. You always sat in the farthest corner of the room, next to the books, in a tiny table for two next to a tall lamp shaped like a flower and pretended to work on your laptop or read the same storybook for the tenth time. 

No one bothered you here, no one ever did, not until now.

You heard the bell ring as the door opened and two people stepped inside. You were never particularly interested in who came or went—you always kept your nose buried in your book and gave little thought to anyone who wasn’t you. But for the first time that afternoon, you looked up.

A gust of wind slipped through the doorway, lifting Summer’s hair before it fell perfectly back into place as Yoongi stepped in behind her and closed the door.

Ugh.

Not this again. The curse. 

You dropped your gaze back to your book instantly, pretending to be oblivious as you took another sip of your cup of coffee. You tried to stay focused on the story, staring at the same sentence on the page until it blurred, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor made you want to take a look again. 

They choose a table by the window. Not close to you, but not far enough either. Not far enough not to notice your quiet presence. 

Summer. The name Yoongi mentioned the other night. It resonated in your head as you tried to come back to the story, but it seemed to infect each one your thoughts. What kind of name was that anyway? Summer, like flowers and the sun, ice cream and the beach. Summer, it sounded like something made up, soft and sweet, effortless. Around here, girls had names like Claire or Melissa. Summer felt like a fantasy, the kind of girl you don’t usually see in this town. Like the kind of girl you became if you got everything right on the first try. the kind of girl you used to pretend not to hate when you were in nursing school, wondering if you’d ever feel like you belonged anywhere. 

Summer. Bright and easy and blonde. It figured. 

God, now you sounded like a bitch. You didn’t know her. You hadn’t even talked to her. You were building entire stories in your head like a deranged person. 

You shook the thought off before it could stick too long — there were better things to waste your time on. Like the fucking book in your hands that you couldn’t, for the life of you, manage to finish.

And when you were about to look away, your eyes landed on him. 

Still standing. White shirt, black cardigan, hand resting on the back of a chair, mid-motion, like he’d been about to sit but got caught. Watching you.

Yoongi’s eyes locked with yours. There it was—surprise, recognition, something like hesitation. Then, a pause too long to be casual, he lifted his hand in a small, clumsy wave.

Not thinking much, you waved back before your mind processed it. Just a nod of acknowledgment. It didn’t have to be awkward. And yet, it was.

You glanced back at your book, wondering if you were supposed to revisit the terms of whatever agreement you had now. Were you expected to wave in public? Even when no one was watching? Why did you have to acknowledge him at all, especially when he was clearly here with someone else?

Whatever. In any case, you supposed this was the whole point of the truce: to share a space, to be civil and polite and blah, blah, blah. It bored you just thinking about it.

You turned back to your book. Or tried to—because the sound of his voice carried through the room, low and steady, filling every corner like smoke. You couldn’t make out the words, but that didn’t stop your brain from trying.

You closed your eyes and sighed. Still, you found yourself straining to decode what he might be saying, or why she kept laughing like that.

Determined, you stared at the same page for the third time, willing yourself to focus. This time, you told yourself, you were going to make it through. You were this close to slipping back into the story.

A few minutes passed. Enough for the noise around you to dull into background static, for the text to finally start sinking in. You managed to stay focused on the story, your fingers pressed lightly to the page as if that could anchor you there.

You didn’t notice the shadow at first. Just a shift in the air beside you, a faint rustle of movement, a shadow. Then the creak of the chair across from you being pulled out.

When you looked up, Yoongi was already sitting down.

Your heart jumped before your expression could catch up. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet, he was settling in like he had a reason to be there, like this wasn’t strange.

Had he walked over without you noticing? Had he said something first?

You hadn’t heard a thing.

“Hi,” he said—soft, hesitant.

You blinked.

“Hi?” you echoed, the book still in your hands.

“Hi,” he repeated.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is there… something wrong?” you asked quietly, sneaking a glance toward the girl he’d just left at the other table. She met your eyes, then quickly looked away.

“No, not at all…” he muttered, shifting in his seat.

“Then… may I ask why you’re sitting at my table?”

He sat at the edge of the chair, like he didn’t plan to stay long. He looked almost nervous—almost, because Yoongi never looked nervous. He was always put together, always with his shit together.

“Uhm… yes,” he began, slow and steady, like this wasn’t completely awkward. “You know Summer, I think. She’s right there. She’s… a friend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A friend?” The laugh threatened to slip out, but you bit it back.

“She’s a big fan of yours,” he said, smoothing his hands over his knees like he needed something to do with them. His voice was careful, almost rehearsed.

“So I’ve heard,” you replied, lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That must be fun for you.”

Yoongi let out a quiet breath, eyes closing briefly like he was trying not to react. You watched the flicker of tension in his jaw before he forced his features back into something neutral.

“She’s been asking me for a while… if I could get you to sign something for her.”

“For her?” You tilted your head, just slightly.

He nodded once.

Yoongi was a lot of things, sure—but you never thought he was this much of a fucking idiot.

Honestly, you almost wanted to laugh. The fact that he had the audacity to come over to your table, while you were minding your own business, just to ask for an autograph—for a girl—was nearly hilarious.

Oh, but you were going to make sure he knew that.

“Because she’s my fan, you’re saying?” You asked, just because you wanted another confirmation. Of all the girls Yoongi could date, he chose the one who was your number one fan. He nodded again, this time with more hesitation. “Did you already tell her no? Because that’s my answer.”

“Yes, I already told her no, but she insisted.” He sighed. “Many times, actually.”

“That’s cute.” You smiled, voice laced with amusement. “Did you watch my movies with her too, or was that part too awkward?”

He glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was biting back a retort. “Come on…”

“I’m not on celebrity duty right now,” you said, flipping the page of your book without looking at it. 

“I know, I know…” He sighed again, shifting in his seat. His knee bumped the table lightly. “She didn’t want to bother you. She’s shy. So she asked me. Because… she knows I know you.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, but your mouth twitched.

That was one way to describe you had sex, you wanted to say.

The truth was that you didn’t have a problem with an autograph. It was bitter, you knew, you could easily do it, but you simply did not want to. 

“Sounds like you really wanted me to say yes so you wouldn’t have to say no to her.” You pouted. 

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

Well, you were wrong, you thought.

“I told you, I’m practically on vacation.” You leaned back, eyeing him. “I’m not giving you an autograph so you can fuck some chick.”

He shut his eyes for a second, like he was counting to ten. “She’s my mom’s nurse.”

You shrugged. “I’m not giving you an autograph so you can fuck your mom’s nurse.”

He shook his head, biting back a laugh, then ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Can you just—do me a favor?”

“Why would I?” you challenged, chuckling.

He shrugged, voice low. “Honestly? I don’t know, maybe because she likes you.”

“Or because you like her?” you teased, pressing your palms together like you were praying for him. “I mean… doesn’t she mind?” You gave him a squinting look, full of fake concern. “Isn’t she the jealous type?”

“No—well, I don’t know. We’re not... it’s not like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze flicking towards Summer, who was pretending not to look over.

He stayed quiet for a moment, staring down at the book in front of you—anything to avoid looking at you.

Then, just as he opened his mouth to plead one last time for the favor, you noticed her. Walking straight towards you, a bright, fixed smile on her face, like she was ready to hug you right then and there.

Before you could blink, Summer pulled a chair and slipped in between the two of you.

She settled into it like she owned the place, her smile steady as she glanced between you and Yoongi.

“Hi, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I felt weird just standing over there,” she said. You stayed there, with your mouth half open, you couldn’t find the words to answer. “I’m Summer, nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand awkwardly, and you hesitated before taking it. Despite what Yoongi said, she didn’t look shy at all. 

“Uh… hi?”

She laughed nervously, the bubbly sound filling your ears.

“I hope we’re not bothering you. Yoongi told me you two have been childhood friends.”

You forced a small, polite smile, carefully folding your hands on the table. “Nice to meet you, Summer.” Your voice was calm, but your eyes narrowed just slightly—this was not exactly how you pictured your afternoon going.

Yoongi shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d just walked into a minefield. The sight of Summer sitting so close, so casual, made him visibly tense, his usual composure nowhere to be found.

“So,” you said, keeping your tone light but deliberate, “Yoongi mentioned you wanted my autograph?”

Summer’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a hint of nervous energy beneath it. “Yeah, I’m a big fan, I adored you in Dog Days.” she said, glancing at Yoongi for reassurance.

He cleared his throat, eyes darting between you both. “If it’s not too much trouble….” he added, sounding more like he was begging than asking.

You looked at Yoongi through your lashes, silently cursing him for putting you in this position. But then again, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, too.

And you, more than anything, wanted to be an asshole and say no. You didn’t owe them anything, you’d been enjoying your time alone before they walked in, before both of them sat beside you like they were invited. You could say no.

You meant what you said: you were on vacation. You didn’t want to be a celebrity here, not now, not after everything that happened with Ian and the press. And even if you knew that signing a piece of paper wouldn’t truly disturb your peace, you still didn’t want to.

Of course, it wasn’t about the autograph. It was about her—bright and sweet and everything you weren’t. And it was about him—sitting with her, making her laugh, trying to impress her with your signature, stumbling to your table like he didn’t know how much it bothered you to see him there.

Well. You had to remind yourself you were trying not to be a bitch.

And sure, you’d agreed to a truce, though at this point, it was starting to feel like bullshit. Why did it seem like this truce benefited him more than you? What was in it for you? 

Whatever, it was fine, it wouldn’t kill you to sign an autograph, not completely, at least. 

You reached for your bag, and searched for a loose pen between your books. 

“Well, I’m not exactly working today, but I suppose I can’t say no to my old friend’s... friend.”

Yoongi let out a relieved breath, though the tension didn’t fully leave his shoulders. 

You grabbed a piece of paper and signed it, your eyes catching Summer’s excited smile. You briefly wondered what she was going to do with it. 

No one asked you for autographs these days, only outside the theater after a performance, and even then, it was almost always just programs. But you were kind of grateful for that. You could handle signing a piece of paper, but not taking a picture with Summer. She would post it somewhere, tag you, and then maybe you’d have to see it—see the difference between the two of you captured forever, impossible to forget, impossible to erase from your memory.

You didn’t know why you were feeling so insecure, it was like you were fourteen years old all over again, like you were uncomfortable in your own skin. 

When you handed her the paper, she smiled and said thank you, and you knew that was your cue to go. You didn’t want to be here anymore.

You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Okay, guys. I’m leaving.”

She looked up at you with wide eyes, visibly disappointed. “Already?” she asked, as if you’d ever planned on staying.

“Yeah, I’ve got work to do at The Alle, you know, the Halloween party and all…” you said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. You had offered to help organize the party. But right now, it made a perfect excuse to get out of this mess.

“Oh, will you be there?” She asked, hopeful. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” You were obligated to say you were going, even if you changed your mind at the last minute. You and Minnie had agreed it would help boost ticket sales if people knew you’d be there.

“That’s amazing, we’ll be there for sure. Right, Yoongi?” she said, nudging his arm.

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a small nod. “Yeah. For sure.”

You grabbed your wallet and left a tip, ready to leave. “See you, then.” 

Then, you walked to the door, stepping outside. 

The cold hit you before you even made it down the steps, sharp and bracing — a reminder that it was still autumn, no matter how much someone like Summer could make it feel like June inside.

You tried not to think about it as you crossed the street, going back to The Alley. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t how you imagined things happening. 

You didn’t want to be in the same room as Yoongi and his new girl. You didn’t want to make small talk, or pretend to be okay with all of it. You’d grown strangely comfortable with your resentment — it had kept you warm, in a way. You’d never really wanted a truce. There was a thought, a bitter little thing, that crept in during your worst moments: if you couldn’t forget, then maybe you didn’t want to forgive either.

You didn’t want him to smile at you, to be polite and correct and show you kindness. You wanted him to look at you and be reminded of every single thing he said to you. You wanted it to make his stomach squirm. You wanted him to avoid your gaze, to feel the need to leave the room every time you walked in — because there was no universe where you could both share oxygen without suffocating each other trying.

It was strange, but you couldn’t stop the thought. You couldn’t stop the feeling.

You wanted a shiver to run down his spine every time he looked at you, because the only thing he could see in your eyes was the memory of that night.

And maybe, by wishing that, you were admitting that the last bits of your sanity had disappeared the moment he offered one of those kind smiles. Because you’d rather know it hurt him to see you than believe he felt nothing at all.

You didn’t look back. But inside, behind the window, Yoongi did.

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls , @overtherainbow35 , @namin13 , @p34rluv , @moonchild1 , @yoongisoftface , @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts , @yoongisducky , @bangtansmauyeondan , @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater @ot7stansthings @curiouslioncutie @jalexad @lynnibears @benyhime

[aaclariww]

Ｔ𝑒Ｔⓗ𝑒ⓡ kim taehyung (one)

Pairing: Yandere!Kim Taehyung × MC (Childhood Friends to Arranged Fiancés)

Themes: Arranged marriage, childhood friends to possessive obsession, elite society and wealth, power imbalance and control, spoiled heroine with overindulgent dynamic, slow-burn to dark sexual awakening, psychological tension, and emotional dependency.

Genre: Dark romance, psychological drama, smut, coming-of-age with elements of emotional and sexual growth, and subtle slice-of-life.

Warnings: Yandere behavior including obsessive love and possessiveness, emotional manipulation, blurred consent in both emotional and physical contexts, themes of privilege and dependency, SMUT (18+)

Intro: Taehyung has always been there. Watchful, constant, impossibly close. As the promise of your arranged marriage looms, you begin to see the truth behind his steady gaze. He was never just waiting; he was claiming.

taglist: @hkplushier

——————-

You first heard the word betrothed when you were eleven. Your mother whispered it like it was a blessing, brushing your hair while humming something soft. “To someone good. To someone who already loves you,” she’d said, like that was supposed to make it better. You still remember the sinking feeling in your chest when she said the name: Kim Taehyung.

He was already thirteen then. Taller than you, smarter, louder—and terrifyingly possessive. Even back then.

You and Kim Taehyung were born into parallel worlds.

Two empires—his in steel, yours in land and luxury real estate—entwined by proximity, wealth, and old loyalty. Your parents met his at a fundraiser when you were still in the womb, and from that night on, it was settled.

You and Kim Taehyung grew up in the same world—glass towers, private jets, weekend galas, and houses too big to feel real. Your father owns half the city’s skyline; his family built the bridges that connect it. Wealth like that makes people greedy, paranoid. But not your families. Not with each other.

Your parents love the Kims. The Kims love your parents. It’s always been that way.

You spent holidays at each other’s estates, vacations abroad in private resorts, and birthdays where the guest lists looked like Forbes. Every major life milestone, he was there. You remember matching tuxedos and dresses as kids at some gala, dancing in front of the flash of cameras while your mothers clapped.

Not that they said it out loud—at least not at first.

At first, it was just shared vacations, joint birthday parties, his mother calling you her sweet girl while fixing your hair with diamond pins. Your father always bragged about Taehyung like he was his own son—his charm, his grades, his golf swing. “He’s a real man,” he’d say, when Taehyung stood up for you against some brat at a banquet. “You’re lucky, darling. Not every girl gets someone like him.”

And his parents? His mother spoiled you. Every birthday, she gave you something handpicked and impossibly expensive—a sapphire bracelet when you turned thirteen, a limited-edition designer bag at sixteen. She always said the same thing with a knowing smile: “What’s mine is yours, sweetheart.” His father called you Taehyung’s girl before you were even old enough to understand what that meant.

Your lives were mirrors, but his was always louder.

Where you were taught grace and diplomacy, he was taught to command. Taehyung filled a room. He was the type of boy whose name was always on someone’s lips—at school, at functions, on whispered calls behind closed doors. He was untouchable, untamed, and completely uninterested in anyone that wasn’t you.

From childhood, he acted like you belonged to him. Not in a dramatic way—but in small, possessive habits. He never liked you walking alone, even inside gated estates. He sat beside you at every dinner, always a little too close. He ignored other girls and memorized your schedule. When he got into fights, it was always over you.

You knew about the betrothal since you were eleven. The contract was a quiet thing signed between your fathers in the office with cigars and prideful grins. When you found out, your mother said it softly, like it was a fairytale. “You’ll be safe with him. His love will be your armor.”

But you didn’t want armor. You wanted choice.

And Taehyung? He never once asked if you agreed. He smiled like he already had you.

Taehyung would walk you home from school without asking. He’d pull your backpack onto his shoulder and call you mine in that calm, self-satisfied voice of his. When boys gave you notes, they ended up wet or shredded. When girls tried to befriend you, they’d back off with nervous glances—because Taehyung watched everyone. Watched them like he had the right.

And maybe he did. Because your families had already decided everything.

By the time you turned eighteen, you were tired of hearing the words “he only does it because he cares.” Your parents had given you a future without asking. A future with him.

He never even asked either.

He acted like it was already done. Like your hand already had his name etched on the bone. He said it with his eyes, with the way he smirked when you glared at him, with the way he’d lower his voice when you got angry—so low and slow it made your stomach twist.

“You’re going to marry me anyway,” he’d said once. “Might as well stop pretending you don’t want me.”

You’d thrown a book at his face.

You didn’t want him. Not like that. Not with this kind of control. But it didn’t matter what you said, not when the engagement was to be formalized on your twentieth birthday.

And worst of all—he’s not cruel. He’s kind. Terrifyingly patient.

Like a boy who’s waited his whole life, knowing eventually, you’d stop fighting.

Your lives were separate in a hundred ways. Different schools. Different social circles. You went to a rigorous prep academy focused on academics and pedigree. Taehyung was across the city, where the emphasis was on networking and legacy. His name alone could clear a hallway. And you were glad, in a way, to have your space. You liked who you were when he wasn’t watching.

Taehyung was the boy who carried your bags even when you didn’t ask. Who stepped between you and barking paparazzi. Who tore up love notes from other boys before you even read them. It used to annoy you. But over time, you got used to it.

That’s the problem now.

You’re too used to Taehyung doing things for you. Used to the way he orders your drink without asking, the way he presses a hand to your lower back when crowds get too close, the way he answers questions on your behalf like he’s doing you a favor.

But there used to be distance—separate schools, separate routines. You could breathe without him in the room.

But that all changed senior year.

When he transferred.

There was no warning. No announcement. One day, you walked into class and he was already sitting in the back row—arms crossed, legs long, looking like the school belonged to him already. Which it sort of did. One call from his father and he’d been placed in all your advanced courses, your clubs, even your student council.

And just like that, the air around you changed.

He didn’t need to say anything. He just looked at you, smirked faintly, and nodded like of course. Of course he’s here now. Of course he’ll sit by you at lunch. Of course your friends are already fawning over him. Of course you don’t need space.

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay with it.

He never has.

But he treats you like glass, only he’s the only one allowed to touch it. You feel it in the way he walks you to class now, the way he puts his hand low on your back when people are around. The way he says your name like it’s already his. And maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.

_____

You walked into your advanced econ class, and he was already seated in the back row, legs sprawled, uniform perfect, eyes locked on you like he was waiting. And from that moment, everything tilted. He joined every one of your classes, your student council, your morning study hall. No one questioned it—who would, with his last name?

The girls lost their minds.

Kim Taehyung was tall, devastatingly handsome, absurdly rich—and unattainable. The way he dressed, the way he carried himself, the lazy curl of his smirk when someone tried to flirt—he made them feel like he was a dream they had to earn.

Too bad he didn’t look at any of them. Just you.

And he made it obvious. He sat with you at lunch. Walked you to every class. Ignored every girl who tried to get his attention. And the moment that really sent your friends reeling?

Lunch.

He cut your chicken for you. With the same ease someone might pour water or pass a napkin. Your fork had barely touched the plate when his hand slid it away, and with slow, effortless precision, he sliced it into bite-sized pieces.

“Here,” he said, nudging the plate back toward you, eyes already drifting lazily across the room as if it were nothing.

Your friends stared.

You blinked. “What?”

“Did he just—?” Mina whispered.

“Cut her food?” Jia muttered. “Like she’s five?”

You looked at them, genuinely confused. “He always does that.”

Jia looked like she was about to pass out.

Taehyung, of course, just smiled. A little smug. A little possessive. Like he wanted them to know that this wasn’t new—that you’d always been his, in ways they wouldn’t understand.

And maybe you didn’t either.

——

It doesn’t stop during your lunch with your friends.

Taehyung moves through your day like he’s been doing this his whole life—because he has. The only difference now is that your friends see it.

“Here,” he says one morning, plucking your heavy textbook stack from your arms without asking. He slings your backpack over his shoulder, smooth and casual, and starts walking beside you like this is how it’s always been. Because it has.

Your friends trail behind, slack-jawed.

“Wait, does he carry your backpack to class?” Mina hisses, jogging to catch up.

“Yeah,” you say, brushing hair from your face. “Sometimes he gets annoyed if I try to carry things myself.”

They stare at you.

You stare back. “What?”

Jia lowers her voice like she’s explaining something to a toddler. “That’s… not normal.”

You blink, confused. “It’s just Taehyung.”

They exchange looks like that explains nothing. Because to them, he’s not just Taehyung. He’s the devastating new senior transfer with power stitched into every breath. But to you, he’s always been the same—bossy, patient, annoying. Familiar.

Later, you’re walking to your afternoon class when one of your shoelaces comes undone. Before you even notice, Taehyung’s already crouched, long fingers tugging the strings neatly together.

“There,” he murmurs, double-knotting it. “Don’t trip.”

You hum distractedly, checking your phone. “Thanks.”

When you glance up, three girls from your AP Literature class are staring at you with open mouths.

One even drops her pen.

Taehyung doesn’t react. He stands, dusts off his slacks, and picks up your backpack again. “Let’s go.”

You don’t question it. You never do. Because this is just how it’s always been. From the moment he was old enough to reach the laces on your shoes, Taehyung has done these things. And not once have your parents told him to stop. Not once has he asked if it’s too much. He just does.

You sit through your next class with your friends whispering at your side.

“Do you even like him like that?” Jia asks under her breath.

“He’s just…” You trail off. How do you explain something so ingrained it doesn’t feel like a choice? “He’s always been like this. It’s not a big deal.”

Jia looks at you, sharp-eyed. “That’s what makes it a big deal.”

You frown. But you don’t reply. Because what would you even say? That it’s comfortable? That it’s easier to let him do things than fight him? That sometimes it’s nice, the way he hovers just close enough to make you feel safe without saying why?

The truth is, you don’t fully understand it either.

But Taehyung does.

He watches all of it—your confusion, their judgment, his own slow integration into your life—with the calm patience of someone who’s planned for this moment for years.

He doesn’t mind that they’re starting to notice.

In fact, he wants them to.

Because the more they see what he does for you, the more they’ll understand what he already knows:

You belong to him. Even if you haven’t realized it yet.

————-

Taehyung walks you to every class, even if it means being late to his. He adjusts your uniform jacket when it’s off-center, handles things like vending machines, library fines, and event sign-ups without you ever lifting a finger.

You’re used to it.

Your friends are not.

“He really just… does that?” Mina asks one morning, after he hands you your favorite iced drink before first period without being told.

“Yeah,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “He’s always done it.”

“Like he just… carries your bag? Signs you in?”

You blink. “I mean.. Yeah.”

They don’t get it. And you’re too used to this life to explain it.

Later that week, your group has a class project due that requires bringing in heavy poster boards and prop pieces. You’re standing near the front gate, holding the lightest bag of supplies while the large foam trifold board with the rest of the massive main presentation model sit on the bench beside you—untouched.

Taehyung is supposed to carry it, place it, organize it. He always does. But he’s late.

Just a few minutes late.

Still, you check the clock. Tap your foot. Your arms are folded, and your expression is increasingly pouty.

Your friends watch you in confusion.

“Are you… waiting for something?” Jia asks.

“Taehyung,” you say simply, like that should be obvious.

Mina frowns. “You could start taking the stuff in, though.”

You look at the heavy trifold, the model board, the stack of notes under a paperweight. Then back at her. “Why would I?”

Dead silence.

Jia stares at you. “You do know it’s your project too, right?”

You shrug, genuinely confused by their confusion. “He’s carried worse.”

They’re still trying to process that when Taehyung finally appears, his blazer slightly rumpled, tie loose, hair perfectly windblown. He doesn’t speak—just walks over, takes the project supplies in one hand and your bag in the other.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says softly. “Did you wait long?”

You huff. “Yeah, I was waiting here for like… seven minutes. I even thought about carrying it in myself.”

His lips curl in a small, knowing smile. “Tragic.”

Your friends are stunned. Again.

He walks you in like he owns the building—and maybe he does. Half the girls in school watch him with hearts in their eyes, whispering about his wealth, his looks, his voice, his hands. But he doesn’t look at them.

He only looks at you.

And he does it with a kind of quiet, practiced patience that says he’s done this forever—and will do it for the rest of your life, whether you ask or not.

Because you’re used to him handling everything.

And that’s exactly how he wants it.

_________________________

That day you have a seat change in class.

Your professor, in a moment of what must’ve been cosmic cruelty, decides to “shake things up” for your literature seminar and randomly assigns new partners for the semester-long project. You don’t think much of it—until you’re paired with Raejun, a boy from the debate team. Smart. Well-dressed. Confident in a way that doesn’t scream arrogance.

You’ve never talked to him before. But when he smiles at you, something about it feels… normal. Refreshing. Like he’s not seeing you as a last name or a future heiress. Just you.

Taehyung watches the whole thing from across the room, seated beside Mina now, his expression unreadable. But you feel the weight of his gaze pressing between your shoulder blades.

“Hey,” Raejun says, offering his hand when class ends. “Want to go to the café after school? We can plan out our research outline.”

You hesitate. Not because of him—but because of the tension that immediately shifts in the room.

Before you can answer, there’s a sound behind you—metal scraping lightly as Taehyung stands. He doesn’t say a word. Just walks over, calm and unhurried, and places a hand lightly on your shoulder.

“She won’t be going,” he says to Raejun, voice polite, but firm.

You blink. “Taehyung—”

“She’s busy,” he continues, gaze never leaving Raejun’s. “With me.”

Raejun raises a brow. “I mean, it’s just a school project. I wasn’t—”

Taehyung’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure you weren’t. But you are mistaken.”

There’s something quiet but unmistakably final in his tone. Raejun looks between the two of you, then steps back with a short nod.

“No problem,” he says carefully, then walks away.

The moment he’s gone, you round on Taehyung.

“What was that?”

He looks down at you. Still smiling. Still calm. “I handled it.”

“You scared him off!”

“Good.” His fingers curl a little tighter on your shoulder. “He was looking at you like you were available.”

You laugh, bitter and breathless. “Well, I am available, Taehyung. You don’t own me.”

His jaw flexes. “You keep saying that like it’s true.”

That stuns you into silence.

You don’t know what to say. You’ve known him all your life. But this is the first time he’s said something that feels like a threat—not in volume, but in certainty.

He leans in, voice lower. “You can flirt. You can pretend. But don’t forget who’s always been here. Who does everything for you. Who knows how to take care of you—because I’ve been doing it since before you could spell my name.”

His hand slides from your shoulder to your waist, and he steps closer.

“You belong with me. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Your heart stutters.

Then he pulls back—expression smoothing over like nothing happened. “Let’s go. I already scheduled your ride.”

You don’t move at first. Just stand there, a little breathless, a little shaken.

Your friends don’t say a word. But Mina gives you a look. A knowing one. Like she’s starting to piece it together.

And deep down… maybe you are too.

———-

A week later Taehyung hasn’t brought it up again, the incident with Raejun—not with words. But his actions have only intensified. He walks you to every class now, even ones you told him not to. Waits outside the girls’ restroom like it’s normal. Texts you when you’re five minutes late to lunch with a where are you, princess?

It’s become routine again. Familiar.

Comfortable, in a way you hate admitting.

You’re in the middle of a bad day when it happens. Your student ID card—linked to your school account, your snack money, your library access—decides to stop working. You’ve tried tapping it three times. Nothing. The vending machine blinks red. You’re hungry. Irritated. And slightly flustered because you forgot to charge your phone and left your wallet in the science lab.

So naturally, you go looking for Taehyung.

You spot him near the main stairwell, talking to someone. You recognize the girl—her name is Yena. She’s on the dance team and widely known for being beautiful, graceful, and allegedly crushing hard on Taehyung since the day he transferred.

She’s standing too close.

Her hands are clasped nervously, cheeks a little flushed. She’s mid-sentence, eyes big and hopeful.

And you don’t even register it.

“Taehyung,” you call, marching up. “My card isn’t working and I’m starving. Give me yours.”

He turns immediately, hand already sliding into his blazer pocket. “What?”

You hold out your hand expectantly. “I tried mine three times.”

He steps toward you without hesitation. “You didn’t eat breakfast again, did you?”

“No, and I’m gonna pass out.”

Yena clears her throat behind you. “Um—excuse me? We’re in the middle of something—”

You turn, surprised. “Oh. Sorry.” Then pause. “Wait, were you guys talking?”

Yena blinks, incredulous. “Obviously.”

You stare at her blankly. ���Right. Well, I’m just borrowing his card.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes.

Taehyung doesn’t even look at her.

He presses his card into your palm and rests a hand lightly on the back of your neck. “Go buy something warm. I’ll meet you outside in five.”

“Kay,” you mumble, already halfway to the vending kiosk. You barely notice Yena’s expression—or the way Taehyung doesn’t so much as glance at her when she starts trying to talk again.

When you’re gone, Yena stares at him, red-cheeked and humiliated.

“Seriously?” she mutters. “I was trying to tell you I like you.”

Taehyung tilts his head slightly. “I know.”

She blinks. “Then—?”

He smiles. Not kindly.

“I don’t really care.”

And then he walks away.

By the time you’ve bought your snack, he’s already waiting by the courtyard steps, hand outstretched to carry your bag. Like always. Like it’s nothing.

You toss him his card back. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t take it.

“You should keep it.”

You blink. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You’ll need it again.”

You slip it into your pocket without thinking. Because you probably will.

And behind you, somewhere in the distance, a girl walks away with tears in her eyes—learning the same thing everyone else eventually does:

You weren’t just someone Taehyung liked.

You were the reason no one else ever stood a chance.

___________

It all builds up to Friday lunch.

You’re eating at your usual table, Taehyung sitting beside you with one hand on your chair and the other lazily flipping through your notebook. Your untouched tray is half-eaten—because he made you a custom plate and brought it over himself. Your backpack is off your shoulders, tucked beneath his seat. And your phone? Charging in his blazer pocket because you forgot again.

You’re not even thinking about it. But your friends are.

The moment he steps away to take a call, Mina turns to you, dead serious.

“Do you even realize how dependent you are on him?”

You pause mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

Jia chimes in. “Like—do you know how to do anything without him? Register for classes? Go to the bank? Cut your own food?”

You blink, chewing slowly. “I mean… not really?”

Mina looks horrified. “You’re not even ashamed!”

You lift your juice with a shrug. “Why would I be?”

They stare. You smile. You’re not even being ironic.

“I do well in school, I handle my business, I’m just not…” You wave a hand vaguely. “Manual.”

“Manual?” Jia echoes, deadpan. “Girl, you couldn’t even refill your Metro card without him.”

“Because he does it better,” you say breezily. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Mina says carefully, “is that if he ever left, you wouldn’t know how to function.”

That gives you pause.

Not because she’s wrong. But because… yeah. She’s kind of right.

You’re smart. Brilliant, even. You get top marks, lead committees, kill it in academic competitions. But when it comes to real-life things—life life—Taehyung or your parents have always stepped in.

Need to open an account? Someone handled it. Need to pay your phone bill? Auto-paid. Hair appointments? Booked. Dry cleaning? Delivered. Anything that involved interaction, planning, lifting, sweating—Taehyung did it.

Because he wanted to. Because you let him.

And deep down, you know you could learn. You could grow. Be self-sufficient.

But… you don’t want to.

You sip your drink. “You make it sound like a tragedy. It’s not. He likes doing things for me.”

“That’s not the point,” Jia says, softer now. “Don’t you ever feel like he’s building your whole world around himself? Like, if he pulled back even once, the floor would fall out?”

You glance at Taehyung across the courtyard. He’s standing in the sun, one hand in his pocket, phone pressed to his ear, eyes flicking toward you even while he talks.

He doesn’t pull back. That’s the thing.

He never has.

And if you’re honest with yourself… it is a little terrifying how much you rely on him. How many things you don’t know. How often you look for him without realizing.

But you’ve never felt safer.

You look back at your friends and shrug. “I like not having to handle everything. I don’t think that makes me spoiled, and I don’t want to change.”

They fall quiet.

And then Taehyung returns, slipping his phone away and leaning in to brush a crumb off your cheek. He doesn’t ask what you were talking about. He doesn’t need to.

You lean into his hand like it’s instinct.

Because it is.

—————-

You bring it up later.

Not because you want to fight—but because the silence your friends left behind won’t leave your head.

The sun is setting outside the library, soft gold bleeding through the windows as you both sit on the lounge couch. Taehyung has your laptop on his lap—sorting through your inbox without being asked, muttering about unsubscribing you from spam. He’s calm. Comfortable. In his element.

Which makes it feel even riskier to ask.

You shift a little. “Taehyung?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up. His fingers are already clicking away—cleaning up your digital clutter like it’s his own.

You pause. Then: “Do you think I’m too… dependent on you?”

That gets his attention.

He freezes for half a second. Not long. But you notice.

His eyes flick up slowly, dark and unreadable. “Who told you that?”

You fidget. “Just… my friends. They said I wouldn’t know how to function without you.”

His jaw tics—just slightly. “And do you believe that?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Maybe a little. But… is that bad?”

He sets your laptop down. Gently. Like he’s afraid of cracking it. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at you with something slower, heavier.

“No,” he says quietly. “It’s not bad.”

Then his voice changes—darker, silkier.

“Why wouldn’t you depend on me?”

Your heart flutters. Not in a good way. In the way prey animals might flinch when the air goes still.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about things like money, scheduling, errands. You’re too good for that. Too soft. I want to take care of everything. Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it easy?”

You swallow. “Yeah, but—”

“But what?” he murmurs. “You want to start struggling? You want to learn how to carry heavy things, make calls, deal with strangers who talk to you like they don’t know who you belong to?”

His voice is still soft—but the tone underneath is sharp. Glittering.

“I’ve done everything so you wouldn’t have to.”

There’s a silence between you now, thick with something you can’t quite name. And then, with a faint smile, he lifts a hand to your cheek.

“You’re not dependent on me,” he says, stroking your skin with his thumb. “You’re just mine.”

The words hit something in your chest.

He leans in, nose brushing yours, voice lowered to a whisper.

“And I’ll never let you forget that.”

You say nothing.

You don’t push him away.

Because somewhere, deep down… a part of you always knew that, while circumstantial— and like the moon to the earth—, you would always be tethered to Kim Taehyung.

(tbh idk if this proper grammar)

__________

You almost forgot about the engagement.

Not really forgot—how could you? It’s been hanging in the background of your life like an old painting, too familiar to notice anymore. But with school, exams, Taehyung transferring, and your friends whispering about how “weirdly close” he is… it’s been easy not to think about.

Until he brings it up.

You’re at his place—which is bigger than most hotels. Normally unheard for a student his age. He’d picked you up after school because your driver was late, and you didn’t want to wait. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Just homework and coffee and the same way-too-large couch you always half-sink into.

But now you’re sitting at the edge of his bed, watching as he flips through a thick leather folder on his desk.

“You know,” he says casually, not even looking at you. “You’ll be twenty in about nine months.”

You blink, suspicious. “And?”

He smiles to himself, then holds up the folder—cream-colored paper, gold-stamped headers.

You recognize the logo: your family’s law firm.

Your stomach tightens. “What is that?”

“Preliminary prep,” he says simply. “Your dad and mine have been reviewing timelines.”

Your breath hitches. “Timelines for what?”

He looks at you then—straight on, with no attempt to soften the blow.

“For our engagement.”

You stare at him. “I thought that wasn’t until after I’m twenty.”

He shrugs, too relaxed. “It won’t be formal until then, no. But the structure’s being built. Joint accounts. Combined assets. Travel permits. You’ll be included in our family trust sooner than expected.”

You blink hard. “I didn’t agree to that.”

Taehyung tilts his head. “You didn’t have to.”

You shoot to your feet. “That’s not how this works, Tae. Just because our families—just because they planned something doesn’t mean—”

“It’s not just them,” he cuts in, voice cool. “I’ve always known I’d marry you.”

You go still.

He rises slowly, walking over until you’re nearly chest to chest.

“This isn’t a plan to me,” he says, voice low. “It’s a truth. Something I’ve been building around for years. Every school I chose. Every step I took. Every decision I made with your name in mind.”

You swallow. “That’s—obsessive.”

He smiles faintly. “No. It’s devotion.”

Then he leans in closer, lips brushing your ear.

“Do you really think I transferred to your school just because I missed you?”

You shiver.

He pulls back, eyes locked on yours, and speaks with quiet finality:

“You’re not going to walk away from this. Even if you try. Because no one else will ever be good enough for you. And because I already made sure—long, long ago—that I’d be the only one waiting at the altar.”

You don’t move. Don’t speak.

And in the silence, he leans forward, kisses your temple gently, then murmurs:

“Nine months isn’t that long, sweetheart. You’ve already belonged to me your whole life.”

_______

The invitation came in a gold-trimmed envelope sealed with wax.

Your parents had smiled when they handed it to you—said it was just a family dinner. Just a small celebration to honor a “new stage of unity.” But the tone in their voices said more. Final. Proud. Like they were presenting a trophy they’d spent years polishing.

You knew before you even opened it that this wouldn’t be casual.

By the time you arrive at the Kim estate, everything is already perfect. A private ballroom dressed in candlelight and crystal. Velvet napkins. A custom menu. Your mother kisses Mrs. Kim’s cheek like they’re sisters. Your father clinks whiskey glasses with Taehyung’s dad like the deal is done.

And in the center of it all—Taehyung, standing beside the head of the table, waiting for you.

He pulls out your chair before you can reach for it. Adjusts the hem of your sleeve when you sit. He leans in, murmurs, “You look beautiful tonight,” and doesn’t blink when your hand flinches slightly in your lap.

Dinner begins with toasts.

Your father raises his glass first. “To two families who’ve built a future together—and to the children who’ll carry it forward.”

Mrs. Kim beams. “We’ve waited so long for this to become official.”

You press your lips into a polite smile, trying not to fidget with your silverware.

Everyone’s watching. Everyone’s so happy.

Except you.

Except Taehyung—who doesn’t look happy. He looks calm. Focused. Like he’s measuring how long the speech is so he can steer the next move.

Halfway through the meal, he touches your hand lightly under the table. When you look at him, he’s already watching you, gaze unreadable.

“They’re going to propose a wedding date,” he says quietly.

Your heart lurches. “What?”

“Not officially. Not yet. But they’ll test it. Mention something this spring. Smile like it’s hypothetical.”

You glance at your parents, laughing with his.

“And you’re just fine with that?”

He turns fully to you. “I already picked my date three years ago.”

Your breath catches.

“Why spring?” you whisper.

He smiles faintly. “Because you look prettiest in white under cherry blossoms.”

You want to be angry. You want to pull your hand away.

But you can’t.

Because he’s looking at you like he’s already seen it all. Like he’s watched you walk down the aisle a thousand times in his head. Like he’s not hoping for a yes—just waiting for the moment it becomes impossible to say no.

And the scariest part?

No one here sees anything wrong.

To them, it’s romantic. Powerful. Perfect.

And Taehyung knows it.

He squeezes your hand just once and murmurs,

“You were born to sit at my side. Why fight it now?”

________

Things at school are… different.

Not in a huge way. Not loud. But in glances. In whispers. In the shift of attention every time Taehyung enters a room with you at his side.

The dinner last weekend hadn’t been public, but people talk. Especially when powerful families start moving in sync. And when Taehyung returned to school on Monday in a tailored blazer with your family’s crest embroidered beside his own, the rumors practically lit themselves on fire.

No one dares ask him directly. But they do ask you.

“Hey,” says Hana, a girl from your physics class, catching you at your locker during break. “Sorry if this is weird, but… are you and Taehyung, like… together?”

You blink. “What?”

“Dating. Officially. Because I know a lot of girls who, like… would want to confess to him, but they’re not sure if he’s off-limits or not.”

You stare at her like she just asked whether the sky is blue.

“No,” you say. “We’re not dating.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Really?”

You nod. “It’s complicated.”

She leans in, curious now. “How complicated?”

You shrug. “We’ve just… known each other forever. Our families are close.”

Hana tilts her head. “Close like how?”

You say it without thinking, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “We’ve been arranged to be married since we were kids.”

She freezes.

You don’t notice right away.

You just keep rummaging through your locker, tugging out a notebook like you said we’ve got a quiz today, not I’m engaged to a future CEO because our parents decided when I still had braces.

When you turn back to her, she’s blinking slowly.

“I—sorry, what?”

You blink back. “Oh. Yeah. It’s a family thing. I think the formal engagement is in two years, but it’s basically done.”

She stares at you like you’ve grown another head.

And you genuinely don’t understand the reaction.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“You’re not dating,” she says slowly, “but you’re arranged to marry?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

“But that’s, like… that’s insane.”

You frown. “It’s kinda… normal to me, I guess.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

And neither do you.

Because it is normal to you. Normal for Taehyung to walk you to class. Normal for him to sign your forms. Normal for him to know your routines better than you do. You never had a moment to decide whether you wanted him or not—he’s just always been there.

The only strange thing is that anyone else finds it strange.

From across the hallway, you catch his gaze. He’s leaning against the wall, surrounded by people, but watching only you.

You offer him a small nod.

And he smiles like he already knows what you just said.

Like he expected it.

Like you’re already doing exactly what you were raised for.

————

Some days, you forget how weird your life looks from the outside.

Like Tuesday morning, when you’re walking to homeroom and Taehyung intercepts you in the hall, already holding your planner open.

“You have a meeting with the student council after lunch,” he says. “Moved your group project review to Thursday, and your mom texted me—she’s sending the driver to pick you up at five instead of six.”

You blink at him, still chewing a bite of your granola bar. “Oh. Okay.”

Your friends behind you—Mina, Jia, and Sujin—are just watching. Speechless. Again.

“You didn’t even check your schedule,” Mina mutters.

“I don’t need to,” you say around your granola. “Taehyung does it for me.”

“You do realize how insane that sounds, right?”

You shrug. “He’s good at it.”

It’s not a joke. You genuinely don’t remember the last time you scheduled your own appointment, submitted a form on time, or even remembered a test day without Taehyung sending you a text reminder in the morning.

He keeps your life straight. Always has.

It’s just… efficient.

Later, during a speed and strength class, an elective class, it’s even more obvious.

You’re supposed to be doing light activity—shooting hoops for cardio. Most people are in pairs. The gym is loud, sweaty, chaotic.

And then there’s you.

You’re barely jogging around. Mostly standing in one place while tossing basketballs half-heartedly at the hoop. It wouldn’t work, except—

Taehyung is there.

He’s not even in your class, technically, but he’s here anyway. He’s standing just off the court in his white PE shirt and black sweatpants, hair pushed back, sleeves rolled up. Every time your ball rolls away—even two feet—he sprints after it.

He brings it back. Hands it to you.

Every. Single. Time.

You don’t even have to look.

At one point, you miss and the ball hits the wall, bouncing off toward the bleachers. You sigh and glance at him.

He’s already gone after it.

Your friends are sitting on the bench nearby, water bottles in hand, slack-jawed.

“Do you ever get your own ball?” Sujin finally asks.

You look at her, confused. “You mean before Taehyung transferred? I guess so.”

Mina groans. “This is actually insane.”

You’re about to respond when the bell rings. You head toward the bleachers, but hesitate when you realize your foot’s already sore from earlier in the week—you’d twisted it during rehearsal. The bleachers are high. Your knee wobbles a little when you try to step down.

And without missing a beat, Taehyung’s there.

He reaches up, lifts you off the bleacher like you weigh nothing, and sets you down gently on the gym floor. Hands warm at your waist. Careful. Casual.

“There,” he murmurs. “Don’t strain yourself.”

You barely react. “Thanks.”

Your friends? Dead silent.

“You don’t see anything wrong with this?” Mina hisses under her breath as you walk out together.

You shrug. “He takes care of me.”

Sujin laughs weakly. “He’s like a full-time handler.”

“He likes it.”

They exchange looks, unsure whether to feel jealous or horrified.

But all you feel is calm.

Because this is how it’s always been.

And Taehyung? He’s already waiting outside the locker rooms, holding your bag like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Because to both of you—

It is.

——————

Dinner with your two families were always long, quiet, and expensive.

The kind of dinner where every fork gleams, every glass sings when touched. Where the napkins are folded like fans, and the staff appears and disappears so seamlessly it feels like magic. But the real performance is happening at the table.

Between the parents.

Your parents. His parents. And the two of you—sitting side by side at the center, like royalty in waiting.

“So,” your father says warmly, lifting his glass, “Taehyung tells us he’s already closed his first real estate acquisition under the family trust. At his age. That’s no small feat.”

Your mother beams. “It’s truly impressive. We always knew he’d rise early. The Kim family reputation precedes itself, but still—it takes discipline to live up to it.”

Taehyung’s father smiles. “He’s always been diligent. Obsessively so. When he locks onto a goal, it’s already his.”

You feel Taehyung shift slightly beside you, his arm resting along the back of your chair. His fingers graze your shoulder, casual—claiming.

“We’re just grateful,” your mother continues, “that our daughter will be cared for by someone so driven. We couldn’t ask for a better future son-in-law.”

“I’m not just going to care for her,” Taehyung says then, smiling softly but speaking with that quiet gravity only you recognize. “I’ll make sure she never has to lift a finger unless she chooses to.”

Your father chuckles. “You spoil her already.”

Taehyung’s hand slides lower, palm lightly brushing the top of your arm.

“She was raised to be spoiled,” he says simply.

Everyone laughs.

But then his mother turns to you, face warm and proud. “And you, my dear, are every bit the young lady we always hoped for. That voice of yours—the singing, the languages, the way you float across a piano… You don’t just have talent. You have grace.”

“I always said she has presence,” your mother chimes in. “Even when she was little. The way she speaks, the way she carries herself—”

“She was born with the feminine arts in her bones,” his father adds. “She’s cultivated. Refined.”

Taehyung looks at you with a slow smile.

“You’ve become exactly what I always pictured you would be,” he says softly. “Beautiful. Sharp. Still mine.”

You freeze.

The table laughs again. As if it were romantic. A compliment.

But his hand tightens slightly at your side. Just for a second.

You force a small laugh, trying to breathe past the weight in your chest.

Because this isn’t just admiration.

It’s assessment.

Praise for becoming the perfect investment. The perfect possession. The perfect bride.

And you realize, in this moment, that the dinner isn’t a celebration.

It’s a ceremony.

You’re being spoken about like something rare and precious.

And Taehyung is the only one at the table who looks at you like he already owns it.

————————

It’s framed as a gift.

A weekend trip to a private vacation estate in the hills—courtesy of both families, as a “reward” for your academic success and Taehyung’s flawless integration into your school.

Your parents gush about it. “You two deserve a little time away,” your mother says, smiling as she adjusts your suitcase. “Something quiet. Private. It’ll help you get more comfortable.”

“With what?” you ask, even though you know.

“With your future,” your father answers simply.

Taehyung picks you up Saturday morning in his family’s private car. The driver handles the bags. He opens the door for you. The moment you sit, he drapes a soft cashmere blanket over your lap, already warmed. The cabin smells like white tea and something faintly floral—your favorite.

It’s only a two-hour drive. Quiet. Scenic.

And Taehyung holds your hand the entire way.

When you arrive, the villa is already stocked. A breathtaking two-story home nestled into the hillside with an infinity pool, glass walls, and a view that stretches all the way to the sea. The staff greet you like they know you—like they were prepped not just on your allergies but your mood swings.

You’re led upstairs to the bedroom.

Singular.

And your breath hitches the moment you step inside.

It’s enormous. Warm-toned. Candlelit. The windows are half-open, the curtains blowing in a soft breeze. There’s music playing faintly from somewhere—classical, soothing.

But the most obvious detail?

There’s only one bed.

You turn slowly. “Taehyung.”

He’s already removing his blazer, rolling up his sleeves.

You stare. “There’s only one bed.”

He glances at it. Then at you.

“So?”

You narrow your eyes. “We’re not even engaged yet.”

He steps toward you, calm. Certain.

“No,” he murmurs. “But we’re promised. That’s more than enough.”

You cross your arms. “They said this was to bond. Not to pretend we’re already married.”

He smiles at that. A slow, dangerous kind of smile.

“Do you think they don’t already see it that way?”

You blink.

He steps closer. “We share a future. This is just a preview.”

You back up until your legs hit the bed frame. “This isn’t what I agreed to.”

He leans down, bracing one hand beside your hip on the mattress.

“But it’s what you were raised for.”

You go still.

His voice softens, brushing the shell of your ear. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. You know that. I’m not rushing anything.”

Then he pulls back slightly—just enough to look you in the eye.

“But you should get used to waking up next to me.”

There’s a terrifying truth to his words—not because he’s being cruel, but because he’s not lying.

He’s being honest.

And worse, part of you doesn’t hate it.

________________

You’re lying on your side, facing the window. The sheets are cool. The lights are off. Taehyung’s arm is slung loosely over your hips, his chest pressed to your back. Barely touching, but enough to feel the heat of him through the thin silk of your sleepwear.

And then—he shifts.

His thigh brushes between yours. His palm slips slightly lower. And you feel it. All of him. The slow, steady thrum of heat and muscle behind you.

You freeze.

You’re hyper-aware now.

Of the way his arm tightens a little. Of the soft exhale he lets out against your neck. Of the fact that his hand is so big. His forearm alone spans your waist. And when you glance down—

When did he get that built?

You’d never really looked before. Not like that. But now you can’t stop noticing—the broadness of his shoulders, the quiet bulk of his biceps when he tightens them, the way his veins drag across his hands when he adjusts the blanket for you like it’s instinct.

Has he always been this… big?

You shift slightly. Not away—just enough to think.

Your breath catches when his fingers brush against your stomach. You’re not even sure it was on purpose.

You’re warm now. Embarrassingly warm.

And worst of all?

You don’t hate it.

Taehyung stirs behind you. You think he’s asleep—but then his voice slips into the dark, low and calm.

“Are you nervous?”

You swallow. “No.”

“Liar.”

You shut your eyes. “I was just thinking.”

He hums. “About me?”

You don’t answer.

He doesn’t need you to.

His hand presses a little flatter against your stomach. Still chaste. Still polite. But there’s weight in it now. Possession. Heat.

“I’ve always been here,” he murmurs, voice right at your ear now. “It’s not my fault you’re just now seeing me.”

You inhale sharply.

And he chuckles—deep and satisfied.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’ll get used to that, too.”

————

The weekend unfolds like a dream you didn’t choose.

The estate is too quiet. The staff is too trained. Everything is tailored to your comfort—your favorite teas, your preferred temperature, your brand of lotion already stocked in the bathroom. It should be soothing.

But it isn’t.

Because nothing about this place feels like yours.

It feels like his.

Taehyung hasn’t raised his voice once. He hasn’t touched you without care. But everything he does drips with intention. Every dinner is timed. Every walk through the garden is silent and slow, his hand resting low on your back like a claim. Every decision is already made before you think to ask.

And the worst part?

He treats you like you’re cherished.

Not a prisoner. Not a guest.

A wife.

On the second night, you wake to soft breathing behind you. You’d fallen asleep on the far side of the bed, but now his arm is heavy around your waist. His legs tangled with yours. His breath brushing your neck.

He’s hard against your lower back.

You freeze.

And then you feel his voice against your skin.

“Still awake?”

You swallow. “Taehyung—”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he says, and he means it.

But he doesn’t move away.

He just lets his hand skim your stomach. Not lower. Just enough.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Just this. You, in my bed. Where you’re supposed to be.”

You close your eyes. His hand flexes slightly over your stomach.

“I could take it slow,” he whispers. “Kiss you until you forget why you ever hesitated.”

You let out a shaky breath.

He nudges your hair aside and presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck. Then another. Then one just beneath your ear.

“You’d be so sweet under me,” he murmurs. “Soft. Shaking.”

His hips shift—barely. But enough for you to feel just how badly he wants you.

You don’t push him away.

You should.

But you don’t.

And he knows.

“You’re already mine,” he whispers. “Your body just hasn’t caught up yet.”

He grinds against you slightly—just enough for you to feel the full weight of his desire. You shudder.

His breath is warm at your nape. “Do you feel how hard I am for you? Every night I lie here and ache, knowing you’re finally where you belong, and I’m still being good.”

His fingers skim the underside of your breast, then retreat.

“I’m patient,” he says, kissing the back of your shoulder now. “But don’t mistake that for weakness.”

You feel his grip tighten at your waist again. “One day, you’ll beg me to take you apart. You’ll ask for it. And when you do…”

He presses one last kiss to your jaw—possessive, lingering.

“I won’t hold back.”

And then, just like that, he pulls you tighter into his chest. Like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just whispered a slow unraveling into your ear.

Sleep doesn’t come after that.

But you don’t move.

And neither does he.

Another kiss. Lower. Smoother.

“This body—this future—it already belongs to me.”

His fingers trail up your ribs, then stop.

He lets you breathe.

Because he’s patient.

And patience, with Taehyung, is never kindness. It’s calculation.

———

You try to sleep.

You curl up beneath the sheets, facing away from him, breathing slow and shallow, mind racing from everything he said—everything he almost did.

You never stood a chance.

The words echo like a curse, like a promise.

Eventually, exhaustion pulls you under.

But your sleep is shallow, twisted. And then it starts.

The dream.

You don’t even realize it at first—only that you feel warm, breathless, weightless. A hand on your hip. A mouth on your throat. The sound of someone groaning low against your skin. Fingers pushing your thighs apart, a familiar scent, lips brushing your jaw.

And his voice—low, velvet.

“Mine.”

You arch in your sleep. Whimper.

In the dream, he’s inside you. Deep. Slow. So gentle it’s cruel.

You moan.

“Taehyung…”

The name slips from your lips before your body even registers it.

In real life, your back arches. Your thighs clench. Your lips part on another helpless little sound.

You don’t see him sit up behind you.

Don’t feel the shift in the bed as he leans in.

But you do feel his fingers graze the inside of your thigh—real, not dream-soft

And you wake.

Eyes fly open.

Your body is still humming. Still aching. And when you move—

You freeze.

There’s wetness between your thighs. Sticky. Obvious.

Your cheeks flush red hot.

You turn slowly to find him kneeling beside you on the bed, sheets pooled around his waist, chest bare, hair tousled. He’s staring at you with something dangerous in his eyes.

You don’t speak. Can’t.

He hums low. “You said my name.”

You try to look away.

He reaches out, hand brushing lightly along your inner thigh.

You flinch.

He doesn’t stop.

“You were moaning for me in your sleep,” he says calmly.

Your heart pounds.

“Did you like it?” he asks, voice a whisper now. “The dream?”

You can’t breathe.

He leans in, mouth brushing your ear. “Was I fucking you slow or hard?”

You choke on a gasp.

He smiles, soft and smug. “You don’t have to be scared of this anymore.” He murmurs. “I wonder if your body will tell me what you won’t.”

Then his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts—just once.

Just enough to feel the truth for himself.

You grab his wrist—too late.

His eyes darken.

“Look at that,” he whispers. “Soaked.”

And then, maddeningly, he pulls away. Slowly. Like he’s tasted you without swallowing.

He backs off the bed, eyes never leaving you, voice steady.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

Then he leaves you there—shaking, wet, still aching—wondering how long you’ve been his without realizing.

[aaclariww]

I LIKE ME BETTER | jjk

PART FOUR

summary : After walking in on her boyfriend Sanho cheating, Y/N moves out and ends up living with Jungkook, a cocky yet caring acquaintance she once couldn’t stand. What begins as a tense, passive-aggressive roommates situation slowly transforms into something deeper, as both navigate heartbreak, vulnerability, and emotional healing. Through stormy nights, late-night confessions, domestic routines, and quiet tension, Y/N and Jungkook gradually uncover the warmth and safety they’ve both been missing—especially in each other.

“After all, what’s the worst that could happen just living under the same roof?”

pairing : jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre : roommates , fluff , smut

word count : 4.1k

warnings : Explicit. This story contains sexual content, explicit language, and themes of emotional trauma. Expect a roommates-to-lovers slow burn with intense enemies-to-lovers tension, mutual pining, and eventual smut. Features include domestic intimacy, past cheating, emotional hurt/comfort, and lots of kitchen tension. There’s jealousy, unresolved sexual tension, first times, comfort sex, and characters who are both emotionally guarded and touch-starved.

The tiny bell above the café door chimed as Y/N stepped inside.

It was her first time seeing Maison in person. She’d only glimpsed it online when she was scouring listings for part-time jobs—what caught her attention then was the name. French for “home.” It sounded soft. Safe.

Now, standing in its doorway, the name made perfect sense.

Warm wood interiors, soft amber lighting, shelves lined with potted plants and weathered books. The place felt more like a tucked-away sanctuary than a business. A little dream of a space, far from the cold, impersonal gray of her week.

She hugged her coat tighter around her frame, trying not to shiver. The bitter morning wind had cut through her layers on the walk over. Even now, she could barely feel her fingers.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind the counter. “You must be Y/N.”

She looked up—and forgot how to breathe for a second.

There he was.

Taehyung.

Owner. Late twenties. Ridiculously, almost unfairly handsome. He wore a soft cardigan over a white tee, silver-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes like it didn’t know how lucky it was to be there.

He stepped out from behind the espresso machine and walked toward her with the kind of easy confidence that wasn’t loud—but magnetic.

“I’m Taehyung. Welcome to Maison.”

He offered his hand, and she took it automatically, her cold fingers brushing against his warm palm.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” he said, smiling like he meant it.

“Same,” she managed.

“First café job?” he asked, tilting his head with a soft curiosity.

She winced. “That obvious?”

He chuckled, his voice low and velvet-smooth. “Let’s just say… you’re holding the milk frother like it’s a fire extinguisher.”

She looked down at her grip on the machine and flushed. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry.” His smile widened. “I’ve trained worse. You’ve got good energy.”

Good energy.

No one had said anything kind to her in days. Maybe longer. It hit her harder than it should’ve.

They got to work quickly. Taehyung’s style of teaching was calm, thoughtful—never rushed, never patronizing. He walked her through each machine step by step, showing her how to grind beans to the right consistency, how to tamp espresso evenly, how to steam milk until it was silky and warm, not scalding.

Unfortunately, she got too comfortable too fast—and thirty minutes later, she burned the side of her hand on the steam wand.

“Shit—!” she hissed, instinctively jerking back.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung said gently, already moving. “Come with me.”

He guided her behind the counter, not with panic but with quiet assurance. His hand rested lightly on her elbow as he led her to the back sink, turned on the cold water, and held her wrist underneath.

“You okay?” he asked, looking at her, not the burn.

She nodded, even though her throat felt tight. “Yeah. Sorry. Stupid mistake.”

“Not stupid. It happens.”

The water stung her skin, but his presence steadied her more than anything else.

He patted her hand dry with a soft cloth, then pulled a small first-aid kit from the shelf. His fingers moved with practiced ease as he wrapped gauze around the red skin.

“You’ve done this before,” she said, trying to smile.

“Too many times.” He gave her a look—part mock-serious, part teasing. “One guy last month managed to spill hot syrup down the back of his shoe.”

She blinked. “How?”

“He refused to wear non-slip shoes and slipped on a sugar packet. Gravity did the rest.”

Y/N laughed before she could stop herself.

The sound echoed in the quiet backroom—and surprised her.

It was the first time she’d laughed in what felt like days.

Taehyung smiled, pleased. “See? You’ll survive.”

They went back to the floor after that, though he insisted she take a break and let him handle the hot drinks for the rest of the shift. Instead, he walked her through the register system, the bakery display, the regular customer names and their usual orders. It was slower than she expected—weekday mornings, he said, were always quiet.

They stayed an extra hour after closing.

Not because he had to—but because he wanted to make sure she felt comfortable.

He showed her the weird way the front door stuck if you didn’t pull it just right. The extra sugar packets hidden behind the bar. He offered her a drink on the house and insisted she sit while sipping her latte as he cleaned the espresso machine.

And through all of it, he kept talking—not just about the café, but stories. Funny stories. Casual ones. The way a barista once accidentally served a decaf triple espresso. A customer who cried over the wrong croissant and apologized with a handwritten note the next day.

Taehyung’s voice was calm, his laughter soft.

Everything about him was… easy.

And for a while, she let herself enjoy that.

Let herself forget.

But when she stepped out of Maison that evening—warm from coffee and his jacket draped over her shoulders—the thoughts came back, creeping like a shadow under streetlights.

Jungkook.

She hadn’t seen him all day.

He hadn’t texted.

No mention of last night.

No “Are you okay?”

No “What did that kiss mean to you?”

It hurt. More than she’d expected.

She touched her lips unconsciously as she walked.

That kiss had happened. Messy and electric and charged like a live wire. The way he’d grabbed her waist, the way he’d said her name like it broke him open. She could still feel the ghost of his breath against her mouth.

But what followed?

Silence.

Distance.

Like it didn’t count.

Like she didn’t count.

She thought it might’ve been different. She thought maybe—just maybe—he’d feel it too.

But Jungkook was always like that. Loud in silence. All tension and walls. He kissed like he was drowning, then left like he never needed air.

And Taehyung?

Taehyung was warmth.

Clear eyes.

Patient smiles.

He made her feel seen. Steady. Like she was worth slowing down for.

And that difference sat heavy on her chest.

She didn’t know which one hurt more—Jungkook’s silence… or how good it felt to be cared for by someone else.

Maybe both.

Maybe that was the problem.

By the time they locked up, the sky was painted in winter tones—cold blues and sleepy golds bleeding across the horizon like brushstrokes. A soft wind carried the smell of roasted chestnuts from a cart down the street, and for once, Y/N didn’t feel the weight of her day pressing down on her shoulders.

Not entirely, at least.

Taehyung fell into step beside her without needing to ask.

She noticed it after the first block—they hadn’t really stopped walking side by side since she started her shift. Even when she’d burned herself, even when he’d gone to make drinks, even when they cleaned up after closing. There was a quiet sort of rhythm between them already. Unspoken.

“You heading this way?” she asked, adjusting the strap of her bag.

He glanced at her, warm eyes reflecting the streetlights. “I guess we are.”

The chill set in quickly. The kind that crept through your coat and into your bones. Y/N didn’t say anything—she hated being the person who complained about the cold—but she must’ve shivered.

Because, wordlessly, Taehyung shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

It was warm. Lined with something soft. Smelled like cedarwood and clean linen and something just a little sweet—like cinnamon tea.

“Your hands are still red,” he said softly, glancing down at the bandage on her hand. “Let me carry your bag too.”

“You’re making all the other men in the city look bad,” she said, only half joking.

“Good,” he replied with a smile.

She let him take her bag. Normally, she’d argue—but she was tired, and he made it look effortless.

As they walked, their conversation drifted easily—starting with mundane things: favorite pastries, worst customer stories, weird café music playlists.

But then something shifted.

Taehyung turned to her and said, “I always wanted to own a café.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. Since I was sixteen. I’d save every spare coin from tutoring gigs or birthday money. While my friends were buying sneakers, I was researching espresso machines.”

She smiled. “That’s kind of adorable.”

“It was borderline obsessive,” he admitted. “But it came from somewhere real. My grandma ran a tiny tea shop in Daegu. I used to help her after school. Maison’s kind of a tribute to her. And to… I don’t know. A slower kind of life, I guess.”

There was a pause.

Then he added, “What about you? Anyone driving you insane at home?”

Y/N barked out a laugh. “My roommate. He’s infuriating. Arrogant, messy, moody. Thinks his music is god-tier. He’s like a one-man emotional hurricane.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Wow. Sounds like a delight.”

“Oh, he’s a real charmer. Total menace to society. Leaves his socks on the kitchen counter.”

“Socks?”

“Don’t ask.”

Taehyung grinned. “What’s this mystery man’s name?”

She sighed, the name falling from her lips like something sour. “Jungkook. Jeon. Fucking. Jungkook.”

She expected Taehyung to just laugh—but instead, he stopped.

His eyes went wide. “Wait. Jeon Jungkook? Tattoos, bedroom voice, makes beats all night?”

Y/N blinked. “You know him?”

Taehyung burst into laughter. “He’s one of my best friends.”

“No. Way.”

“I’m literally heading to his place right now. He and Jimin are having a little hangout.”

She stopped walking. “You’re the friend he’s having over tonight?”

“You’re the roommate he keeps vaguely grumbling about?” Taehyung raised a brow, still laughing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wow. What are the odds?”

They looked at each other, both stunned—and then cracked up, the kind of surprised laughter that bubbled out whether you wanted it to or not.

Y/N shook her head, groaning. “Oh god. That means you know everything.”

“Not everything. He keeps it pretty vague. Just says things like, ‘She’s impossible,’ or ‘Why does she leave Post-its everywhere?’”

“I do not leave them everywhere,” she muttered. “Just in places he forgets to check. Which is everywhere.”

“Sounds like a solid system.”

She glanced at him sideways. “So you’re all close, huh?”

“Yeah. Jimin, Jungkook, and me. We’ve known each other for years. Survived military cuts, bad relationships, and worse haircuts.”

“Interesting,” she said, trying not to let her voice sound defensive. “And what has he told you about me, exactly?”

Taehyung gave her a sideways look. “Honestly? That you��re… complicated. And distracting. But smart. And kind of funny when you’re angry.”

Y/N stared at the sidewalk. “He said that?”

“Not in those exact words,” Taehyung admitted. “But the vibe was there.”

She didn’t say anything. Her throat felt tight for reasons she didn’t want to examine.

“So,” he said gently, “you two don’t get along?”

Y/N hesitated.

How did you explain what Jungkook was?

Not quite a friend. Not really an enemy. Something that lived in the static between words. Something electric and broken and unfinished.

“We do,” she finally said. “And then we don’t. It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

She sighed. “He’s… hard to be around.”

“Because he’s intense?”

“Because he’s real. Too real sometimes. Like, one second he’s making dinner in sweatpants, and the next he’s saying something that makes me rethink my whole life. And then five minutes later, he’s gone. Just… shuts down. Disappears into himself.”

Taehyung nodded quietly. “Yeah. That sounds like him.”

“And he’s cocky,” she added. “Always acting like his music is holy scripture.”

Taehyung laughed. “To be fair, the guy’s pretty good.”

Y/N paused, biting the inside of her cheek.

She hated to admit it—but Taehyung wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah,” she said vaguely, eyes on the pavement. “He’s not bad.”

Taehyung glanced sideways. “Do you like his stuff?”

She shrugged, playing with the frayed edge of the bandage on her hand. “I’ve heard worse.”

He laughed, a low, amused sound that made her glance at him warily. “So you do.”

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped, a little too fast. Defensive.

Taehyung grinned. “You didn’t have to.”

She groaned. “He just… knows what he’s doing, okay? He’s good with sound. I’ve accidentally walked in on him mixing and ended up standing there for, like, twenty minutes. But I was zoning out. That doesn’t count.”

“Totally doesn’t count,” Taehyung agreed, his smirk growing. “Completely accidental admiration. No crime there.”

“I’m serious,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good. Because if you tell him I said even that, I will deny everything. I’ll burn the apartment down just to erase the evidence.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

She gave him a look. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Fine. I’ll pinky swear if you want,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t pinky swear with men I just met.”

“Reasonable policy.”

They walked in silence for a moment. The city buzzed faintly around them—distant car horns, the hum of streetlights warming up, the rhythmic tap of their steps on pavement.

Then Taehyung said, more gently, “You know… for someone you clearly can’t stand, you pay a lot of attention to him.”

Y/N stiffened. “I live with him. It’s hard not to notice things.”

“Right,” Taehyung said, nodding, like he was agreeing but also maybe not.

She added quickly, “And the walls are thin.”

“Ah. That explains the mysterious admiration of basslines at 2 a.m.”

“Exactly.”

He smirked. “And the fact that you know how long one of his songs runs before the bridge?”

She shot him a warning glare. “Are you always this annoying?”

“Only when I sense denial in the air.”

She gave him a shove with her shoulder, light but pointed, and he laughed as he took the hit with exaggerated drama. “You’re worse than Jimin.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said brightly.

They turned a corner. The neighborhood grew quieter. They were close now—she could see the outline of Jungkook’s building peeking through the gaps in the trees.

Y/N slowed a little at the crosswalk. Her voice was quieter this time, almost like it slipped out on its own. “I already told him once… that I liked one of his tracks.”

Taehyung looked over, brows raised.

“It was… a bad night. He got a call from his dad—looked like someone punched the wind out of him. I didn’t know what to say. So I said that. That I liked his song.”

Taehyung nodded slowly, the teasing in his expression fading to something more thoughtful.

“And ever since then,” she continued, softer now, “I haven’t said anything else about his music. I can’t. He’d take it the wrong way. Or the right way. I don’t even know.”

“Maybe it’s not about what he’d take it as,” Taehyung offered gently. “Maybe it’s just that it scared you a little. Saying it.”

Y/N looked at him. “You sound like a therapist.”

“Part-time barista, full-time overthinker,” he said with a wink.

She gave a weak laugh. “He makes it hard, you know? Being mad at him. His music… it’s not what you expect. It’s loud, yeah, but under all that sound, there’s this… grief. This weird tenderness.”

“You heard that?”

She nodded. “I wish I hadn’t. It’s easier not to care when you don’t see the soft parts.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked ahead toward the apartment building, then back at her. “He’s lucky. That you noticed.”

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag where it sat on his shoulder. The sleeves of his jacket were still wrapped around her, warm and far too big. She let out a long, slow breath.

“I don’t think he sees it that way.”

“Then he’s an idiot.”

She laughed once, quiet and bitter. “Well. That’s not breaking news.”

They reached the intersection near the apartment. The lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Taehyung’s voice broke the silence again, gentler this time. “He doesn’t know you’ve listened to it. All of it?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think he even knows I care.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “Why not tell him?”

“Because it’s easier to be mad at someone when you don’t admit you understand them,” she said, and winced as the words left her mouth, too raw, too true. “And I’m still mad.”

“You sure it’s not hurt?”

She hesitated. Her fingers tugged at the frayed edge of the bandage again.

Then: “I’m sure it’s both.”

Taehyung didn’t press. He just walked beside her in quiet solidarity. There was something about him that made silence feel safe, not awkward. Like she didn’t have to fill every pause.

After a beat, he said, “You don’t have to explain anything. Not to me. Not even to him.”

“I know.”

He gave her a small smile. “Still want to go up?”

She looked at the building. Her chest felt tight with something sharp and hard to name. But she nodded.

“Yeah.”

And together, they crossed the street—her in his jacket, him with her bag, and both of them walking straight into the heart of everything she hadn’t figured out how to say.

When they walked in, the living room fell into silence.

Jimin was mid-sentence, drink in hand. Jungkook was standing—still, frozen, bottle clenched.

And his eyes… they were locked on the sight before him.

Y/N. In Taehyung’s jacket. Taehyung. Carrying her bag. Both laughing like they belonged together.

“We had no idea,” Taehyung grinned. “Y/N’s the new part-timer at Maison. This might be the best coincidence I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N smiled politely and excused herself, heading to her room to shower and change. The warmth of the jacket lingered on her skin.

When Y/N disappeared down the hallway, the door to her room clicking shut behind her, a brief silence settled between the three men left in the living room.

Jungkook took a slow sip of his beer, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the darkened TV screen.

Jimin glanced at him but said nothing, leaning back into the couch with a low whistle. “Well. That was something.”

Taehyung flopped into the armchair, kicking his legs up and getting comfortable. “What? The accidental roommate-coworker twist? Or the fact that Y/N somehow makes being covered in espresso grounds look like an aesthetic?”

Jimin smirked. “So she survived her first shift?”

“Barely,” Taehyung said, grinning. “She burned her hand on the steam wand. Apologized to the machine.”

Jimin laughed. “Classic.”

“She’s funny, though,” Taehyung added. “Snarky. Kind of feral about organizing the syrup bottles, which I respect.”

Jungkook didn’t look up, but his grip on the bottle in his hand grew slightly tighter.

“And,” Taehyung continued with a relaxed sigh, “she’s so pretty.”

Jimin lifted his eyebrows. “That was fast.”

“I’m just saying,” Taehyung said, gesturing vaguely with his bottle, “she’s got that kind of energy. You know? Like, I could hand her a broom and suddenly she’s the lead in a rom-com.”

Jimin snorted. “Rom-com barista arc?”

Taehyung nodded like he was considering it seriously. “I even texted you earlier, remember? Told you this part-timer was cute. I thought maybe—hell, maybe it was finally my turn for a proper girlfriend.”

Jimin blinked. “Wait, that was Y/N you were talking about?”

“Yep.” Taehyung grinned. “Small world, right?”

Jungkook stood up, casually, but the beer bottle made a louder-than-necessary clink as he set it down on the counter. His back was to them now, shoulders just slightly tense.

“Dude,” Jimin said, glancing between them. “You’re halfway gone and it’s been one day.”

Taehyung just laughed. “She’s got that effect.”

Before Jungkook could find something neutral to say,

Y/N stepped back into the living room in fresh clothes, hair towel-dried and still slightly damp at the ends. She padded in quietly, unsure of what she’d be walking into.

To her surprise, the tension had mostly dissolved. Taehyung was sprawled sideways across the armchair, animatedly telling Jimin a story with wild hand gestures. Jimin was halfway through a can of beer, grinning as he tried to interrupt.

Jungkook, on the other hand, sat on the far edge of the couch, one leg bouncing restlessly. He didn’t look up when she entered—but he knew. She could feel it in the way his shoulders tensed just slightly. In the way his hand curled tighter around the bottle.

“Shower revive you?” Taehyung asked, flashing her an easy smile.

“Barely,” Y/N said with a soft laugh, settling down at the other end of the couch—far from Jungkook.

Jimin scooted over to make room for her. “You missed Tae’s retelling of the time he spilled soy milk all over a customer and tried to cover it up by saying it was a new kind of latte.”

“Experimental,” Taehyung said proudly. “She didn’t complain. She left, but she didn’t complain.”

Y/N snorted. “Impressive.”

“I’m full of secrets,” he said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Jimin chimed in. “Like how he apparently texted me earlier that he met someone ‘devastatingly cute’ today and thought it might be fate.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait, what?”

Taehyung shot Jimin a mock glare. “You weren’t supposed to say that yet.”

Jimin raised both hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. The beer makes me loose-lipped.”

Y/N looked between them, eyes narrowing. “You were talking about me?”

“Guilty,” Taehyung said sheepishly. “But in my defense, I didn’t know you were Jungkook’s roommate until halfway through our shift.”

Jungkook stood abruptly. “I’m getting more beer.”

He didn’t ask if anyone wanted one. He didn’t look at her.

Y/N’s heart thumped painfully. She kept her expression neutral, but she noticed Jimin watching him with that sharp, quiet understanding only he seemed to carry.

As Jungkook returned and passed out drinks, Taehyung perked up again. “Oh—speaking of fate and cute people. Jimin’s throwing that party this weekend.”

Jimin nodded. “Low-key thing. Friends, music, some dancing, maybe a little chaos.”

Taehyung turned to Y/N. “You should come. I mean, technically you’re one of the crew now.”

She smiled, tucking her feet under her. “Sure. Sounds fun.”

Then Taehyung turned toward Jungkook. “You bringing someone?”

Jungkook didn’t even blink. “Already got a date.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh? Anyone we know?”

Jungkook just gave a tight-lipped smile and took a swig of his beer. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N glanced at him, something sharp twisting in her chest. A date? Since when?

But she didn’t say anything. Neither did Jimin.

As the conversation shifted toward party plans and who was in charge of the playlist, Y/N tried not to let the weight of Jungkook’s words sit too heavily in her gut.

But it stayed there—quiet and bruising.

And hours later, when Jimin and Taehyung finally said their goodbyes, and the door clicked shut behind them, the silence in the apartment returned like it had been waiting.

She gathered empty bottles to bring to the kitchen, just for something to do.

Behind her, Jungkook’s voice finally broke the stillness.

“You like him?”

She froze.

Then turned, slowly. “What?”

“Taehyung.” His voice was low, careful. “You like him?”

She stared at him. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

She shook her head and walked into the kitchen. “You’re unbelievable.”

He followed. “It’s a simple question.”

“No, it’s not,” she snapped, spinning to face him. “It’s loaded, and you know it.”

His jaw tensed. “He was wearing your bag.”

“I was wearing his jacket. So what?”

He didn’t answer.

She crossed her arms. “You kissed me. Then you left like it meant nothing. Then you stood there tonight acting like I betrayed you for getting a job. And now you’re jealous?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

He looked at her then—really looked at her. And in his eyes was something raw, cracked open.

“I don’t know how to not be,” he admitted.

Her breath caught.

Neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, she said, “You don’t get to be jealous and silent at the same time, Jungkook. Pick one.”

He exhaled shakily. “I didn’t think it would matter this much.”

“But it does.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“And this date of yours? Is that real?”

His silence was answer enough.

She laughed once—bitter, tired. “God, you’re such a coward.”

“I know.”

She looked at him, really looked. At the boy who made beats in the dark and left every light off. Who kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive and then walked away like he didn’t want to be.

And it broke something in her chest. Not violently. Quietly.

Like an old song fading out.

“I’m going to bed,” she said softly, walking away.

And Jungkook just stood there, alone in the kitchen—watching her retreat, wishing he could follow but too afraid to move.

hey tumblr besties 🫶💌

guess who’s back with part four of the series? that’s right—meee 😋🤘

i’m so happy y’all enjoyed the last chapter, it seriously means the world. also not gonna lie… i’m kind of obsessed with jimin’s character 😮‍💨 he’s just too good.

from here on out, things are only getting messier—more taehyung swooning over y/n, and jungkook absolutely losing his mind about it 😛

so tell me… do you think we’re heading toward more angst? fluff? or are we diving into full-on spice? 👀 drop your predictions in the comments!

also, i’m still adding people to the taglist, so if you wanna be included, just leave a comment 🫶

as always—reblogs, comments, and virtual kisses keep me going 💋 thank you so much for reading! 🥰

with love,

xo, ario

TAGLIST 🔖

@gyeomibear @dna2723 @lachimolalajeon @yunhoswrldddd @whoa-jo @notsevenwithyou @dmstoyangyang @songbyeonkim

�� previous | next »

[aaclariww]

05 | SHADOWS OF OBSESSION ⭒ JJK

a criminal's obsession with a shy medical student starts a passionate mix of desire and darkness. As their worlds collide, secrets get exposed and possession turns into love. In a world filled with betrayal and the weight of their own pasts, can they find a way to survive together? or will their twisted bond ultimately destroy them both?

pairing — criminal dom!jungkook x student sub!femreader

genre — criminal au, dark romance, forbidden attraction, enemies to lovers, murderer!jungkook, stalker!jungkook, innocent shy!reader, virgin!reader, medical student!reader, violence, stalking and obsession, contrast of worlds, crime, thriller, smut, lots of angst, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, angry!jungkook, protective!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, trauma and recovery, tension, violence, graphic descriptions of murder and gore, several mentions of blood, torture, murder, kidnapping and captivity, panic attacks, fainting, mentions of injuries, domestic intimacy, care and nurturing, helping the other shower, he helps her heal from trauma, lots of crying, emotional vulnerability, he almost cries for her, guilt and self-hatred because he blames himself, nightmare, oral sex (f. receiving), making out, hickies and marking, bruising, breast play, nipple play, slight mentions of blood during sex, body worship, emotional sex, eating out, clit stimulation, face riding, tongue fucking, cum swallowing, hair pulling, overstimulation, dual stimulation, slight anal play, rimming, cum play, aftercare

wc — 8k

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

Your senses made their way back to you with agony. Your head throbbing in pain, reminding you of the hit that caused you to lose your consciousness.

You laid on a cold, dirty floor, it was hurting your spine and the surface smelled of something sticky—dried blood, perhaps.

Or worse.

The metallic smell of blood clung to your tongue along with the thick, suffocating smell of the air in the room.

It was hard to even breathe.

Your wrists and legs burning, they were tied with a rope that has been digging into your flesh and the knots were tight enough.

Each movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through you.

Your shirt was torn at the shoulder, damp with sweat dirt, clinging to your bruised body.

The room was dark with barely any light, the walls were thick enough that no matter how much you screamed, no noises would escape it.

You pressed your cheek to the floor, wanting even a little bit of comfort.

But it did nothing to quiet the fear in your chest.

At whats about to happen.

Each of your breaths came out in gasps as you tried your best not to panic, chest heaving as tears streamed down your face, whimpers escaping you.

Your sobs raw, echoing in the silence but you knew that no one could hear you, the walls wouldn’t let anyone hear you.

You were all alone.

No one will come.

Your throat aching, voice gone from hours of screams that ended with jungkook's name, a plea.

To the only man who’d ever made you feel both terrified and alive.

In a way no one could.

Your body trembled uncontrollably, skin coating with goosebumps, and the scent of—sweat, blood—giving you a nauseous feeling.

You curled into yourself as best as you can with your bound knees and hands, trying to make yourself smaller.

Invisible, safe.

But there's no safety in here.

Memories of jungkook flood your mind, each one a knife to your chest.

His rough hands, calloused and warm, caressing you, dark eyes, softening only for you.

Always just for you.

“You’re mine.”

He'd growled as he claimed you, both your body and heart.

You needed him.

The thoughts of him made the room feel cold and scarier and you never realized until now exactly how much he made you feel safe in his own twisted way.

That now you have started craving the monster

Who'd stalked you.

Something you couldn’t deny and he was your only hope right now that he’d come before it was too late.

That he’d save you.

You started rocking slightly, trying to calm yourself against your racing thoughts.

Trying to distract yourself from all the dark thoughts that explained what can happen to you.

The ropes dug deeper, blood trickling from your wrists and you bit your bottom lip trying to muffle the cry of pain.

The wound on your head swollen, hurting further.

“Who are you?”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” you sobbed.

Trying to communicate with the man who’d taken you but it was mostly at the universe for having such faith like this.

That bound you to a life of danger.

To a man like jungkook.

“Just let me go!”

All you were greeted by was silence. No matter how much you cried or screamed.

Your throat dried and hurt further, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst.

You saw jungkook in your mind—the way he’d kiss you with a hunger, hold you to him possessively.

jungkook would come.

He had to.

“I need you.” you whimpered.

Your voice small and childlike.

“I’m so scared, jungkook. I need you to find me… please.”

۶ৎ

jungkook moved through the city with wrath, each step of his predatory.

A cigarette between his lips, its burning tip the only glow in the dark

His dark intense eyes scanning everywhere he could, always alert.

Always hunting.

But tonight the hunt was different. It wasn't for blood or revenge—it was for you.

He was used to you now, your presence easily numbing the chaos of his life. Your apartment felt like a part of his as well, a place where he could forget about his sins.

If only for a moment.

He’d slip inside silently, sit by your bed, watching you sleep, the way your chest rises and falls, lips parted.

Sometimes he’d join you under the sheets, his rough hands careful not to wake you, your warm small body providing him comfort in a way that was almost healing.

You were his weakness, his obsession and he craved the quiet moments with you.

Where he could pretend he wasn't a criminal.

When he could imagine a world where he deserved you.

That’s exactly what he did that night when he told you he would come back for you after dropping you home from the bike ride.

His fingers worked the lock of your apartment, opening the door with a click. He stepped inside expecting the familiar warmth of your place.

But the moment he entered.

Something felt different.

The air felt eerily wrong, like the softness of you usually clinging here was gone.

There was this unusual smell that knotted his stomach.

Your books, usually stacked with care were scattered all over the floor. The chair in the kitchen was on the floor.

Almost like someone kicked it in a struggle.

jungkook's breath hitched, cigarette falling on the floor.

Forgotten.

The absence of your presence giving him a hard time to breathe.

And then he saw it.

A smear of blood on the floor.

It was small, but to jungkook it felt like that small smear was consuming everything else, his heart pounding loudly.

A rage overcoming him so fast it felt like it would burst.

Someone had taken you.

He roared loudly, a sound from deep inside him, raw and animalistic. His fist slammed into the nearest surface—a glass from the counter—shatters.

Cutting his knuckles but he barely felt the pain.

Blood dripping onto the floor, mixing with yours.

“I’ll fucking kill them all.”

He snarls.

“Anyone who dared to even touch you… they—they’ll beg for death, I'll make sure of it.”

His hands shook not from fear but from the need to find you.

He paced, mind filled with images—your trembling form, scared eyes and even the thought of you getting a bit hurt drove him crazy.

“You’re mine,” he growls.

“No one takes what’s mine.”

His laughter in the empty apartment was almost maniac.

A promise.

“They’ll pay for it for every tear you shed, for every pain you feel.”

“I’ll burn this city to find you.”

The room spun, the walls felt like they were closing in on him and he knew the way your softness was gone from the apartment exactly the way his last bit of humanity was gone.

No mercy left in him.

“I’m coming for you, baby,” he whispers.

“Hold on.”

۶ৎ

The jacket around his body was splattered with the blood of several of his victims, some his own, some not.

But he barely gave any thought to it.

His entire mind and being surrounding with anger.

Too much of it.

Consuming him.

His phone had been a constant, as he went through all his contacts, every bastard who owed him a debt.

“Find her.”

He barked, grip so tight on the phone it felt like it would break under his white knuckles.

“You’ve got one hour before I make you pay.”

His words full of violence.

He then went into an abandoned house, not leaving any place undiscovered, any possibility of where you might me.

His eyes going everywhere, searching all the corners as if you might just magically erupt there.

Your soft voice calling for him.

He was scared, for the first time in his life.

Very scared.

He wasn’t scared when his life was threatened by enemies or when he was almost at the brink of death.

But now he was scared.

Scared of losing you, scared of what might happen if he was too late.

Because he'll never forgive himself.

All his phone calls were giving him nothing—just shaky apologies or silence.

Each failure increasing his fury.

After his most recent call of no success, he lost it. He flung the phone to the wall, breaking into several pieces from his force.

“Fuck!” he screamed.

His fist slammed into the wall again and again, paying no attention to the blood.

Anything to ground himself.

But this fleeting pain was nothing compared to the pain of losing you. Your absence feeling like a wound that no blade or gun could make him feel.

He sank to his knees on the ground, hands tightly fisting his hair. Blood smeared his face as he ran his hands on his skin, fingers trembling as he lit a cigarette.

He saw you in his mind—your eyes wide with trust for him, lips parted whispering his name and the way you traced his scars with such gentleness.

A touch he never allowed anyone to get near to.

He wanted you back, needed to cradle you in his arms, needing to know that you are okay and you are fine.

He wanted to fuck you with a gentleness, hear your needy noises, feel your touch that warm his stone heart.

His biggest fear had come true—you were hurt, taken.

All because of him.

The realization tightening his throat with anger and guilt.

As much as he wanted to kill the one who’d taken you, he wanted to kill himself for being the reason for your suffering.

He’d let you become his weakness, for his enemies to take advantage of.

He stood, body shaking.

“They’ll pay.”

He gruffs, thirsty for blood.

“Each. And. Everyone. I'll rip them apart myself.”

His eyes burning, not with tears—he’d forgotten how to cry—but with a fire of his rage and the need to find you.

In two days, he’d stormed into also every hideout of his enemies, knife and gun in constant use.

And there was too much blood.

Everywhere.

His cruelty chilling even the hardest criminals.

“Where is she?” he roared.

His knife pressing into a man’s throat, blood already beading.

“Tell me or you’re done!”

The man sobbed, mumbling apologies and Jungkook's patience snapped.

Just like that.

His knife plunged inside the man's throat, taking his life in an instant.

He killed without hesitation, without any feeling, each kill a step closer to you.

Or so he told himself.

Each kill more brutal than the last one, his hands always coated with blood, like it wouldn’t go away.

He smoked through packs of cigarettes now, the nicotine helping him against the ache in his chest, even just a little bit.

In his pocket he carried your black hair tie with a pink bow. He’d stolen it from your wardrobe.

And now it was his anchor.

His proof that you were alive and that he’d find you.

He’d clutch the tie in his fist, whispering your name, like a prayer, to keep the darkness and his sins from swallowing him whole.

“You’re okay.” he’d murmur

The words a lie he forced himself to believe.

But with every passing hour, his hope seemed to fade.

“I’ll tear this fucking world apart,” he vows.

“until you’re back in my arms”

The beast in him unleashed and nothing, no amount of power can stop him.

Until you were found.

۶ৎ

The dark room felt like a prison now, your entire body bruised with red marks all over.

You didn’t even want to think of the throbbing pain of your tied wrists and legs, blood dried there.

Your head feeling dizzy and you were almost numb now, no longer having any energy to scream or do anything.

You just lay there pathetically.

Your stomach empty and hurting, no food or water had been offered since you'd been thrown here, your throat drier than ever.

Every gulp ache you, tears drying on your cheeks, cracked lips trembling.

The thought of jungkook came to you.

“jungko—”

Your voice breaks, no longer having the strength as you feared the worst.

Feared that he might not come or never find you.

That you’d die here.

All alone

Whenever you were on the brink of losing consciousness again, his face would be there.

“You promised…”

You croaked.

All your thoughts got interrupted when you heard the locked door creak, your heart jumping out of your chest.

Your body jerked upright despite all the pain you were facing.

The man who’d taken you stood at the doorway, his eyes glinting with a hunger.

His smirk shook you.

You scrambled back, as best as you could with your bound legs, nails scraping the ground, leaving bloody trails.

Your strength barely there, but the instinct to survive drove you, breaths coming out in panicked gasps.

“Getting bored.” he drawled.

He steps closer, shadow falling over you as you looked at the knife tucked into his belt.

“Kept you like a rat in here, but… that’s no fun, is it? time to play little girl before I send your body back to your boyfriend.”

You gasp, tears spilling down your face, blurring your vision.

“No.” you choked.

Your body trembling so hard you thought you might lose balance.

“Please don’t touch me… no, jungkook he—he won't spare you—”

The words were like a shield—anything to keep the stinking man away from you—but the words wouldn’t do anything.

You'd soon lose courage.

The man laughed, a guttural sound, kneeling before you.

“jungkook?” he mocked.

His hand shot out, grabbing your chin, fingers digging into your bruised skin and you let out a broken whimper.

“That piece of shit’s probably dead already, bleeding somewhere,”

“And now I’m gonna enjoy breaking you.”

He grins manically.

You kicked, needing to muster all your energy for your bound legs to move and it connected in his stomach.

Weakly.

His eyes flash with rage and his hand come up, slapping you across the face, the pain exploding.

Blood fills your mouth as you coughed, mixing with your tears.

You collapse, cheek pressed to the hard ground, your sobs loud and broken.

“please”

You whispered, voice barely there.

He came over you, hand reaching and grazing the exposed skin in your torn shirt and you screamed, bile and disgust erupting in your throat.

Your body trying to curl away unsuccessfully.

“No one’s coming.” he growls.

His hand still hovering, ready to rip your shirt

“Scream all you want.”

His hands reach your throat, pinning you to the ground and you thrashed, vision fading.

The world felt like it was closing in and you were giving up, closing your eyes, ready to break.

When suddenly

A loud screeching tore through, the sound loud enough to make the man move away.

jungkook stood there.

He was unrecognizable, wild, eyes pitched black.

No trace of the man who’d kissed you with such tenderness, who always said your name with such softness.

His hair messy with sweat, there was blood all over his body.

“You touched her,” he snarled.

“You fucking touched her!”

He moved faster than you could breathe, grabbing the man by the collar.

jungkook's strength inhuman.

Lifting the man like a rag doll, the man's glare faded and a look of terror took its place, his lips part to speak but jungkook gave him no chance to even blink.

No chance to beg.

His fist connecting with the man’s jaw, the crack of the bone loud, with blood smearing all over jungkook’s face, the walls.

As he went on and on.

The man’s head snap back, teeth breaking but jungkook didn’t stop his relentless punches, each one barely dimming his anger.

Each one for causing you pain.

“You think you can hurt her and live?” he hissed.

His eyes filling with madness.

Another punch

The man's nose crumpled, blood splattering everywhere, his groans were turning into wet gurgles of blood.

His weak defenses were nothing compared to jungkook's wrath.

jungkook's anger was consuming him, everything else faded as his fists worked.

The man's face soon turning into a pulp of flesh and bone.

Unrecognizable.

A scene of gore.

You screamed, voice breaking as you soon felt the panic attack crash over you.

“jungkook!” you cried.

Your chest heaving as you hiccuped, head dizzy.

The blood was everywhere.

Too much.

And it felt like it was drowning you and the bloody scene in front of you with all the wet stuff coming out of the unrecognizable man's face had your body shaking.

Your stomach twisting as you dry heaved, throat burning. You backed out into the corner, sobs loud and broken, a desperate plea for it to stop.

For him to stop.

jungkook didn’t hear you.

Didn’t see you

His entire focus was on the man who'd dared to touch you, he kept punching and kicking even after the man's body stopped moving.

His body lifeless.

Jungkook dropped the man, drawing out a knife even though he was already dead.

“You’ll feel every second of this.” he whispers.

He plunges the knife into the man's chest, blood spurting. He stabs again and again, the man's body jerking with each hit.

His insides spilled—blood, flesh and organs—pooling on the floor and it was overwhelming.

Your throat raw, heart pounding.

His eyes were empty.

His soul gone.

He stabbed the man until he was nothing, the knife falling from jungkook's hand as he stood there panting, chest heaving, but the glare still there.

Your vision blurred soon, the world fading.

The horror was too much for you and the darkness was overtaking you, could barely breathe, the weakness of your injured body taking a toll on you.

A whimper left you brokenly and you soon collapsed, senses slipping away.

His bloody face the last thing you see.

۶ৎ

The world snapped back to you with a jolt, nose filling with a familiar, comforting scent—cigarettes and musk.

Something that uniquely belonged to jungkook

But your heart pulsed, thinking you were dreaming of being back in his arms and you immediately sat up.

You were in a bed, the dark sheets soft against your bruised skin, cradling your body like he would.

Your breathing slowed.

He found you, he did.

Before it was too late.

But the memory of the room and the man clung to you—its disgusting smell, the cold hard floor, and the ropes cutting you.

You whimpered, hand flying to your head, tangling your fingers in your hair, wanting the nightmare of what you went through to go away.

Where’s jungkook?

The room around you dimly lit with fairy lights, strung all around the cabin because he knew you loved them so much.

Yet the safety was barely felt by you, terror still in your whole form.

You hugged yourself, torn shirt clinging to your damp skin. Your lips trembling with the lingering taste of blood from where the kidnapper hit you.

A sob came out of your mouth.

You were safe, you told yourself—surrounded by jungkook's world.

But the panic was soon taking everything away, bringing you back into the hell you were in and you couldn’t shake the fear, thinking that you were still trapped.

Still alone.

That man can kill you any moment.

The door creaked open and you froze, breath hitching.

There he was, jungkook.

Whose presence you were yearning to see for so long.

His shirt clung to his muscular frame, still carrying the stains of blood from his brutal kill of the kidnapper. He couldn’t fully wash himself, but his face and arms were free of blood.

His bruised hands at his sides, trembling from a barely contained emotion.

He saw you awake, his entire body stilled, breath catching.

“You’re here.” he breathes.

His voice breaking, like he cannot believe you were actually here, awake and in his bed.

Safe and protected.

His pained voice broke the last of your restraint and you let out an agony filled cry.

In an instant he was on you, crossing the room in long strides, arms pulling you to him, crushing you to his chest so tight you couldn’t breathe.

His grip grounding you to reality.

You didn’t care that his hold hurt, the blood from his shirt smearing on your skin.

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling him, a scent that was home and safety for you.

Yet love in its most twisted way.

Your hands fisting his shirt as you pulled him closer, almost tearing the shirt in the process, needing to feel all of him.

To know he was here.

Your sobs muffled against his chest, tears soaking his skin as he held you close, even tightly if that was possible.

He rocked you slightly, face on your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses there, all while he shushed you.

Trying to calm you, his heart pounding against your chest and you felt him shaking as well.

His voice the gentlest it has been since you were taken.

You felt a mix of everything.

Relief and need.

“I’m sorry.” he rasped.

His lips brushing your hair, breaths shaky.

“I’m so fucking sorry, petal. I should’ve been there.”

“I hate myself—fuck, I hate this… I hate that you’re hurt because of me.”

He rambles, each of his words lacing with a desperation you’d never heard from him, his weakness laid bare for you to see.

His body trembling constantly as if he was fighting to hold himself together from the guilt he was facing.

Your nails dug into his back.

“I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.” you whispered

New tears stream down your face.

He pulled back just enough to cup your face with his calloused hands, so gently as they cradle your cheeks.

His thumbs brush away your tears, smudging the blood clinging to your skin, from your injuries.

His eyes locked on yours, his own pain mirroring yours.

“I missed you,” he growls.

Voice almost choking.

“Every second without you was hell. I searched for you everywhere. I killed for you, I bled for you and I’d do it again because I’ll kill anyone who touches you—or even thinks of you.”

He says, fiercely.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

His words a vow, making you forget about all your fears until you only wanted him. He went forward, lips crashing onto yours, the kiss desperate and bruising.

A mix of tears, teeth, and tongue.

Your knees getting weak at his familiar taste once again, mouth hot as he was almost trying to eat you alive by kissing you, sucking on your split lip.

The pain barely felt against the heat knotting in your stomach.

He groans into the kiss like he cannot get enough, hands sliding down your body, gripping your hips and thighs.

As if making sure you were real.

That you were okay.

You broke the kiss gasping, his forehead pressing against yours as your heart raced, both breathing the same air.

“Don’t leave me.” you whined.

Your hands bunching his shirt once again.

“Never”

He swore, voice rumbling as his lips brushed yours.

“You’re my everything, baby, my fucking soul.. I can never let you go.”

A promise.

Exhaustion pulled at you, body spent from the toll of fear and relief. Your eyes fluttering close, sobs quieting to soft whimpers and your head rested on his chest.

His heartbeat against your cheek felt like everything after being apart for so long.

He holds you tighter, lips pressing to your forehead and wherever he could reach, each kiss his apology for letting this happen to you.

Wanting to protect you, to keep you.

You fell asleep in his arms, body curled into his, his warmth shielding you against everything you went through in the past few days.

His scent grounding you and for the first time since the kidnapping, you felt safe and loved.

Even if it was in the arms of a monster.

۶ৎ

You stir after sleeping for long moments in jungkook's chest, his strong arms holding you.

He wore a black t-shirt now, he changed while you were sleeping, freshening up.

The air inside his cabin was soothing with the mix of the smell of hot chocolate he made for you, so you can have it once you wake up.

He didn’t want to wake you up, knowing that you needed rest after all you have gone through.

But he has plans before that.

While you were slowly getting back to consciousness from sleep, he picked you up in bridal style, taking you to the bathroom.

jungkook set you down, gently on the tub's edge, hands lingering on your waist as his fingers traced your ruined shirt clinging to you.

Your breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you held onto him.

His t-shirt was damp with his sweat and you gripped it tighter, knuckles whitening, afraid to let go.

Afraid to slip back into darkness again.

Leaving the comfort of the room triggered you again.

Your body was full of aches—bruises turning purple, the dried blood on your wrists and legs still clung from where the ropes dug.

He kneels before you, dark eyes searching yours, his jaw clenched as he looked at your condition and he wanted to kill that man again even though he was dead.

Torture him, but do it slowly, taking his time.

Make him scream, cry for mercy and beg for death.

That jungkook won't allow.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs.

His voice thick with emotion, caressing your waist.

“I’ve got you, my baby… no one's touching you again.”

You let out a whimper unknowingly, a sob leaving your lips.

“I thought… I thought I’d die in that room, jungkook.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his hands tightened on your hips.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

Voice breaking.

“I shouldn’t have ever let that happen. I shouldn’t have left you alone that night. I—I’ll never forgive myself, never.”

His eyes glistening with unshed tears and the sight shook you, seeing the criminal who kills without a second thought.

Was so close to breaking for you.

He reached for a soft cloth, dipping it into the warm water, jungkook made sure to pour some drops of lavender oil on the water and the smell cleared your mind.

He brings the cloth to your arm, touch deliberate as he wiped away the dirt and blood, carefully revealing the skin beneath.

Full of scars.

His breath hitching and he had to grip the corner of the tub to control himself, it was almost like he was facing all the pain of you went through.

He kept his eyes on your face, making sure he wasn’t hitting any sore spots, his brows furrowing every time you winced.

The cloth was warm against your tender flesh and he traced the curve of your elbow, your wrist, his hand moving gently despite his usual roughness.

You sighed at each swipe, body relaxing under his care, eyes falling closed.

“You’re too good for this,” he rasped.

As he moved to your other arm, gliding it over your skin.

“Too fucking pure for someone like me. I don’t deserve to touch you, not after I let this happen.”

The words cutting him deeper than any blade could and you opened your eyes, seeing the agony in his gaze.

His self loathing present, a lot more than his anger.

“Stop.” you whisper.

Voice steady but trembling slightly.

“You saved me, jungkook… you came for me and that’s enough.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile on his face, dipping the cloth in the water again.

“It’s not enough,” he says, huskily.

“It’ll never be enough. I’d kill every last one of them, and yet it still wouldn’t be enough.”

You remain quiet, answering with your silent tears, your heart breaking as he moved to your legs, lifting one gently, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind your knee.

The cloth followed as he washes away all the dirt and blood stuck there, almost washing away the memory of the ropes that had bound you.

The water and his touches felt like a caress, easing the ache in your body and you hummed.

A sound of relief that made his eyes flicker with something soft, breaking through the storm in his gaze.

He lingers on a bruise above your knee and his lips part, a shudder running through him at your cry of pain, tears filling your eyes.

“Shhh… it’s okay, petal,” he breaths out.

If only he could erase all your pain, erase how much of a big failure he was.

Your shirt was next and he hesitated, eyes meeting yours.

Seeking permission.

Because he knew you were going through a lot and he would never do anything you didn’t want.

Your comfort comes before anything.

You nodded, heart pounding and he helped you take the shirt off along with your bra and panties, his movements careful and precise, keeping his eyes on you.

You were left bare, vulnerable, goosebumps arising all over your skin.

His breath caught, eyes darkening not from lust but with a fierce protectiveness, as if you were a fragile thing.

He was unworthy to touch.

He dipped a fresh cloth into the water and began to wash your torso, the cloth gliding over your shoulders, between your breasts.

Each movement slow.

His hands tremble slightly, showing the emotions he was keeping beneath.

“You’re beautiful.” he whispers.

As he traced the cloth over your stomach, making you shiver, your lips parting in a hum.

“Even with the bruises, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen… I hate myself for letting anyone touch you.”

Your chest tightened as you grip his hand, stopping his movements so that he could focus on you.

“jungkook, don’t,”

“I’m here. I'm alive. Because of you.”

He didn’t respond, couldn't, his focus on your body as he moved the cloth to your back, warm and soothing, lightly massaging you.

He washed every inch, it felt like he was cherishing you and you knew his actions spoke a lot more.

When he reaches your face, he was gentler still, your eyes focusing on his dark ones.

And you knew.

You saw the love there that he always resisted because he can deny it as much as he wants, but you saw it so vividly in his eyes.

The cloth brushes your cheeks, wiping away the tear stains and the blood on your split lip. He lingered there, thumb grazing the cut and you leaned forward instinctively, desperate.

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

He froze, eyes closing tightly. The kiss was a spark, a gentleness in his hardened heart and he leans into it, his forehead resting against yours.

The cloth forgotten in the water.

“You can’t do that.” he murmurs.

Voice pained

“You can’t be like that with me. I don’t know how to take it, sweet girl.”

“No one’s ever… no one's ever touched me like you do.”

His breath shakes.

“Then let me.” you say.

Your lips brush his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat as the sweetness of the moment makes both your hearts race.

He pulled back, hands cupping your cheek before he reached for the shampoo, a floral scented bottle you recognized from your own apartment.

One he must've brought to make you feel at home

In his place.

He pours it into his hands, the familiar smell filling the bathroom. His fingers worked it into your hair, massaging your scalp with a tenderness that made your breath catch.

You were melting into a puddle under his ministrations.

He then tilted your head back, rinsing it with a cup of warm water, the liquid falling over you, taking all your aches and fears away.

Rinsing the final soap suds, his thumb brushes your back.

“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you again.”

You nod, tears falling, believing him more than you believed yourself and he continues pouring water over you.

Washing you and calming you thoroughly for long moments.

He wraps you in a soft towel once he's done, making sure to turn on the nearby heater so you won’t get a cold.

He carries you to bed, his grip tight as if you’d vanish, eyes never leaving yours while you are almost falling asleep in tiredness, contented from the shower

His entire heart was there in his eyes alone.

So yours.

۶ৎ

The next few days the cabin was filled with warmth of jungkook's relentless care, your presence had completely etched itself in his place.

Like it was your own home as well.

Plush toys on the shelves, books stacked in piles, your hair ties and skin care products on the nightstand—all the things jungkook brought from the apartment, but the majority of them he bought for you separately.

Because he knows all your preferences by heart.

All your things seem very different in the roughness of his place, two completely different worlds, but they aligned perfectly

Like they were meant to be.

You were completely engaged in jungkook's world of blood and it binds you to the man who'd become your everything.

jungkook was your shadow.

Even now.

His dark eyes followed you, not with the predatory hunger you’d once feared but with a desperation as if you might disappear if he blinked.

He moves with purpose, scarred hands gentle as he prepared your favorite meals, each dish a love he couldn’t voice.

He fed you by hand, fingers brushing your lips and your heart never seemed to stop fluttering at his insistent care and attention towards you.

He treated you like you were a fragile thing he needed to look after.

Each bite—mashed potatoes, garlic and chicken that he has memorized religiously since you loved them—was a step towards healing.

In order to get your old self back and get over the trauma.

He also bathed you daily, each shower washing away the bits of your fear, leaving you soft and feeling good.

He never pushed, never demanded, his need for you something he kept away carefully, though you saw it in the way his jaw clenches.

The way his eyes darken when they linger on your curves while giving you a bath or when you cuddled him too closely wearing nothing, felt your hard nipples press against him

۶ৎ

One night the darkness overcomes you once again and you wake up gasping.

The nightmare knocking the breath out of you.

And seeing that you were in the comfort of jungkook’s bedroom and not inside that filthy room, did little to calm you as you imagined the man’s hand, the blood.

You were choking on your cries, a sob leaving you, chest heaving, hands trembling as you clutched the sheets.

jungkook was there in an instant.

His arms pulling you to him

“I’ve got you.” he mutters.

Straight to your ear, trying to get you out of your breakdown.

“You’re safe, petal… I’m here, right here.”

You hiccup, clutching his hair as he murmurs comforting words in your ear.

“Please…” you croak out.

And he got the message immediately with one single plea of yours, knowing that you want him, that you want him to make you forget about the misery.

You wanna get lost in him.

All this time he held back, never making any first moves, wanting to take things at your own pace but now that you were begging him, he couldn’t deny

Because he wanted to be the only one who scared you, even in your nightmares.

No one else.

His lips crash against yours with a force that stole your breath, his taste filling your mouth, making your head spin.

He kissed you like he was starved, tongue entering into your mouth, claiming all over your mouth as his teeth grazed your lower lip until you whimpered.

The sound swallowed by his mouth.

His hands cup your face, wiping away your tears, anchoring you to him as the kiss deepened with tongues fighting each other with your gasps.

Your heart pounded, forgetting about everything along with the nightmare at the heat of his mouth and the press of his body.

He pulls back, breathing heavily, dark eyes looked at you.

“I can’t lose you,” he growls.

“Not again. Never again.”

His lips soon started trailing down your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin below your ear, his teeth sinking, making you moan.

The sting turned into pleasure.

His hands started roaming, sliding under the oversized shirt you wore—his shirt—pushing it up and throwing it somewhere in the room to bare your skin for him.

You were his goddess and he wants to worship you.

He kissed your collarbone, leaving his hickeys everywhere, his own breaths uneven as you arch into him.

“So fucking beautiful.” he hums.

His chest vibrating against you as his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples that were already hard and aching from his touches.

He rolls them slowly and deliberately.

“jungkook!” you mewled

The sound high and needy in the quiet room.

Your nipples were something he could never get enough of, always begging for his attention and he couldn’t wait any further, lowering his face and took one into his mouth.

His tongue swirling, sending a shiver down your spine. He sucked around the bud and the suction was enough to draw a cry from you.

Your hands tangling in his hair and pulling.

“Mhhh, ohh—”

Your voice cracked, body trembling as the sensation was almost overwhelming for you. He grazed the bud with his teeth and you let out a broken gasp.

Hips bucking against him once again seeking friction, your pussy clenching around nothing.

He paid the same attention to your other nipple, tongue flicking as his hand kneaded your other breast, weighing it in his palms and marveling at how perfectly it fit his hands.

Like they were made for him specifically

“Always so sensitive for me.” he grunts.

His voice muffled against your skin, looking up at you with dark, possessive eyes.

Your moans grew louder as he continued, each touch of his driving you crazy, your clit was throbbing relentlessly, pussy wet and slick.

Your panties soaked and clinging to your folds.

He goes lower, brushing over your stomach, his tongue licking over the scars of your wounds, some were fading and some fresh.

Almost like he was trying to etch his mark in them somehow, make you forget about the pain.

His devotion making it hard for you to breathe.

You pant, eyes half lidded, gripping the bedsheet.

His tongue suddenly hit a ticklish spot in your stomach, making you giggle, then moan, the sound caught in your throat as he nipped the skin.

His hums a noise of approval at your pleasure, turning you into a squirmy, needy mess

His deep voice unraveling you.

Every single time.

He slowly parted your thighs, eyes meeting yours to see if there was any discomfort, but there was just need.

Too much of it.

So he took off your panties, wetness sticking to them.

His fingers were gentle as he spread you open, pussy bare and glistening under the fairy lights, folds swollen, clit pulsing harder under his gaze.

The cool air making your senses even more heightened, your breath hitching at the way he looks at you, eyes turning back from hunger.

His jaw ticking, control barely there.

“Oh fuck… look at you.” he says, huskily.

His hands keep your thighs spread, thumb brushing the sensitive skin near your folds, making you writhe.

“So damn wet all for me.”

He doesn’t give you a moment to think, lowering his head, breath hot against your pussy and you tense, heart thudding in anticipation as you fist the sheets.

His tongue flicked out slowly, licking the entirety of you from top to bottom, ending with a lick around your slit to collect your arousal.

“Hahhh, oh gosh, jungkook.”

Your hips raise on their own, the sensation catching you off guard after not being with him for so long and it was almost new to you.

He ate you out with no breaks, tongue lapping at your folds, all his strokes long and you trembled, your noises coming out.

Loud and unbroken.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room, his eyes locked on you, watching all your reactions, your gasps and the way your mouth remains parted.

Brows drawn together in ecstasy.

He sucks your clit, capturing it between his teeth, drawing a scream from you.

“Ahh—”

You shook, hips bucking as your hands pulled his hair tight enough for him to groan, but the pain encourage him further.

The vibration and his pace were making you feel dizzy with pleasure.

“Please.” you sobbed.

Your body shaking, overstimulated with the pleasure pain and you couldn’t escape from his rough hold.

His tongue fucked you, sliding inside your pussy, curling and thrusting, mimicking the way he would fuck you with his fingers or his cock.

It was too much.

Overwhelming.

Your pussy clenching around his tongue, desperate for more and more.

He snarls, his hands gripping your thighs harder, fingers leaving bruises you’d cherish later.

“I missed this so much… fuck, you taste so good,” he huffs.

Some of your arousal dripped on his chin and neck, but he didn’t mind it, instead it drove him crazier.

“Could eat this sweet cunt forever.”

He suddenly teased your rim, a new sensation that had you letting out a startled sob and moving away instinctively, but he held you tighter in place.

“Shhh, just relax and focus on me.” he coos.

It was a new sensation..

His thumb circling the tight, untouched ring—the pressure light, something you never explored or touched before—and exploring it with him sent a thrill through you.

He makes you feel alive, always giving you new experiences.

And the touch felt weird at first, but you soon started moaning and mumbling expletives you didn’t understand from how good it felt.

Your body tensing as he pressed just enough to slide a bit of the tip of his thumb inside, not fully in, but enough to make you feel it.

To make you want more.

“Just relax, baby.” he whispers.

His thumb was teasing, circling, teasing, but barely entering inside, all while his tongue lapped at your clit, and the dual stimulation felt like a torment, and you couldn’t hold back.

Digging your face in the pillow, biting into it.

Your shaky screams and drawn out whines were a chant, body a quivering mess as your hips rocked towards his mouth, chasing the pleasure.

Your pussy and your hole fluttering under his touch.

His teeth graze your clit again, this time hard enough to make you let out a loud scream, and he soon soothed the poor swollen nub with his tongue.

His thumb finally penetrating you fully.

And you broke.

That’s it.

You saw stars behind your vision as your orgasm crashed over you, your voice aching with the scream of his name, scratching his shoulder with your nails.

Your cum coats his tongue, chest almost showering it in him and he growls loudly, satisfied.

A sick grin on his lips.

“jungkook. jungkook.” You called out for him.

He guides your hips making you grind on his mouth, making sure you ride out every last wave, while he drinks your essence like it’s a rare thing that gives him life.

You pant, breasts heaving all while he didn’t stop, tongue lapping every last drop, drawing out your release until you were sobbing, oversensitive.

You mumbled nonsense, pushing his head away.

He pulled back and the state of him with your arousal and sweat clinging to him made you shy instantly, feeling shameless enough to do it.

You can't believe what he turns you into, as you look away, pressing your face in the pillow.

His chest was heaving, eyes satisfied as he doesn't let you look away, not liking it when you hide from him, your eyes met his still panting.

“That’s my girl.” he purrs.

His hands stroke your thighs, soothing the marks he’d left. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, his breath warm and brushed against your pussy, making you gasp.

You closed your legs with a pout, he hums out a chuckle, happy to see you back in your old state, no longer thinking of your past.

“Only I get to make you come like that, only I hunt your dreams.”

His voice turns serious.

You were spent, your body heavy with exhaustion—this time with a promise of good sleep.

Your heart full.

The nightmare was gone, disappearing at the back of your mind.

jungkook was about to get up to bring some tissues to clean you up and get water for you to drink, but you reached for him, hands weak.

“Stay.” you croon.

Eyes heavy as your body sank into the bed, he never had the heart to deny you.

So he laid beside you, arms wrapping around you.

His arms a cocoon for you with the smell of his cigarettes and his clean male smell.

Your haven.

You fall asleep to his words, the last thing you hear before you fall into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

His words a vow

“No one else, petal. Just me.”

────

taglist: @wintaemoonjen @minewlove @chaelvrx @nanisblogg @slutology00 @kelsyx33 @furioustrashlover @jjeonjjk7 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @asyr97 @ttanniett @bratzdaull @yunhoswrldddd @jeonzll @endlesslysassy @elmarimochi9513 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lisax-30 @moodytangerine @taetaecatboy @katwiththatrat @yikes-ukiyo @minimoninini @lachimolalajeon @flutterguk @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @universallywizardkoala @kookxin @mageprincess7 @satisfied18 @existentialzaddy @strawberryberrygirl @tranquilreign @honeybearmin @melooooosusupp @thvflowr @granataepfelchen @cherricherryy @tatamicc @minghaosimp @kooko009 @clrwonuu @withmuchluv-tannie

[aaclariww]

BETWEEN US ── taehyung.

summary: kim taehyung was your boyfriend’s best friend, the two attached to the hip and at the top rank of the most handsome boys in school. but you two realize that the person you both knew was nothing but a cheater. a cheater who fell in love with your sister

pairing: tsundere!taehyung x f. reader

genre: high school!au, strangers to friends to lovers, angst, fluff

warning: cheating (reader doesn’t cheat), some suggestiveness (making out), cursing, both main characters are 18… i put the sister to be a year older (even tho it doesn’t make sense but bare with me please 😭)

note: some inspiration to the manhwa true love operation (though that one has a second lead and it doesn’t have one here) (it’s still so good tho so read it if you like 🤍)(also, projecting my love for Japanese strawberry milk, I’m in love)

“Yoo-ra’s coming with us on the weekend, by the way.”

You sighed.

Your older sister was going to be accompanying you two. Again.

“Um,” you let out, freezing in your steps as you swallowed down the plain milk he had gotten you. You faked a smile. “Okay.”

No offense to your sister because although she was your best friend, and as much as you loved her, you were feeling left out when she and your boyfriend, Su-Jin, got mistaken as a couple multiple times because she always made you go fetch her something and they walked away. It was even more awkward when you corrected people’s mistakes when they assumed they were the ones dating because you were in the back, trailing behind the two, looking like the third wheel instead.

You continued your walk to class, and you stayed by his side until you sat down next to each other. You wave your hand at your friends nearby and take out your supplies, all while you hear your boyfriend call his best friend over.

“Hey, Yoo-ra’s asking if you want to go to that club meeting after school,” Su-Jin explained, slapping his friend’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “You know she’s been expecting us to go.”

“Can’t.”

“Come on, Taehyung,” Su-Jin groaned, dropping his head. He looked back to glance at the expressionless man. “It’s just going to be us 3.”

Taehyung hummed as he thought about it, but while he let his final decision settle in his head, he turned to you.

With his hands balled up into the pockets of the jeans of his uniform, he let his eyes make eye contact with your own.

“Are you going?”

Su-Jin shook his head just as you had opened your mouth to speak. “No, she’s not.” He dismissed his question. “We’re meeting up with her after the meeting is done.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung hummed, pursing his lips. “I have to meet our teacher after school, so I won’t be able to make it.”

“Bummer,” Su-Jin said, leaning back against his chair. He let his arms cross over his chest. “Alright then, we’ll meet up during lunch, yeah? We’ll play some soccer so I can kick your ass.”

Taehyung scoffed at his friend’s remarks. “You wish, asshole.”

Before their bickering could continue, your teacher showed up, causing everyone to disperse back into their usual seats. But, just before Taehyung left, you two made brief eye contact that had him giving you his usual stoic expression.

Gulping at the intensity of his eyes and how he looked at you, you looked down at your journal, scribbling down the date and your name.

Taehyung made you nervous. And for some reason, he just enjoyed glaring at you. You didn’t know if it was how he looked at people, but he always gave you such a look that made you feel like he was judging you. It was even more intimidating when you were presenting and he wouldn’t stray his eyes away from you, and sometimes, it would make you fidget or stumble over your words. It wasn’t your fault, and you blamed it on him (in your head) when your grade wouldn’t be the grade you wanted.

As lunch came around, you, Taehyung, and Su-Jin walked together toward the field where other students seemed to be residing. It wasn’t uncommon for you guys to eat there, but it was mostly you and Su-Jin who ate together every day—unless it was Wednesday and Friday. Sometimes Yoo-ra would join but she had her group of friends and she would join on Wednesday and Friday, which were the days you were gone because you would be hanging out with your friends.

“Hey, we’re gonna go play,” Su-Jin spoke as he gestured towards Taehyung, who was watching you two while twirling the soccer ball in his hands, occasionally looking over his shoulder. “Yoo-ra said she’s going to join us today.”

You nodded slowly at his words and as soon as he turned his back to you, another sigh escaped your lips.

As predicted, your sister came 2 to 5 minutes later, her newly dyed cherry-red hair running down her back as she waved at some people who waved back at her.

She was so beautiful and you always admired how kind she was. Rumors used to circulate that either you were jealous of her beauty or she was jealous of yours, but after you two kept dismissing said rumors, it all died down and you two got to admire one another without being judged. Thankfully, if anything, you just saw more of what people saw in your sister, and that was how beautiful and smart she was.

“Yoo-ra,” you whined as soon as you finished the food your mom prepped for you two. “My stomach is hurting.”

Your sister whined to you, resting her head against your own since you had rested your head on her shoulder. She dropped her chopsticks on her bento, leaning back. “Why do we have to have stomach problems?”

“It’s Mom’s fault,” you groaned. “She passed this curse to us.”

“The Earth hates us,” Yoo-ra dramatically cried on your shoulder with her arms securely wrapped around your neck. You wrapped your arms around her torso, the two of you looking like a couple of idiots by the way you dramatically cried into each other’s arms.

“Why? Oh, why do we have stomach issues?”

Clutching onto one another, you didn’t hear the footsteps heading your way. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that you two separated in a flash and pretended like nothing had happened.

“What are you two doing?”

Looking up, you shook your head at your boyfriend’s question. “Nothing. We just finished eating.” You put your food away and glanced between Su-Jin and his best friend. “Are you guys going to eat soon?”

“Yeah,” Su-Jin nodded, sitting down next to Yoo-ra. Taehyung eyed them before he sat next to you, leaning back against his hands, small beads of sweat running on the corner of his forehead. “I’m surprised you’re still here, considering you said you had that club meeting.”

“I have it in a minute,” Yoo-ra explained, starting to pack up her things. She spared you a glance, a small smile forming on the corner of her lips. “Just wanted to see my sister. That’s all.”

You smiled at her back, and a minute passed away before she needed to go to the club meeting she was president of.

You and Su-Jin stayed with Taehyung, but lunch eventually had to come to an end, so you three headed toward your usual class. Your friends headed your way and although your boyfriend made a sound that told them he didn’t want them there, you rolled your eyes at his attitude and let yourself be taken away.

“Douche bag” your short-haired best friend, Bora, commented as soon as she led you and your other friend, Ji-Woo, away from your boyfriend and his best friend. You three stood in the corner of the room and watched as your two other friends, Duri and Yuri, twin sisters, and your cousins, strolled through the crowd of people blocking them. “Remind me why you’re dating him again.”

“Because I love him,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Just say the word and we’ll beat him up,” Yuri spoke from beside your other cousin, who agreed to her statement. Her words and the agreement did not surprise you. Everyone was scared of them due to their overwhelming presence, their loud voices, and the way they were not afraid of beating up someone for treating someone badly. They did not play around. “I honestly don’t know how Taehyung handles him. I would just shut his damn trap up by taping his mouth shut.”

“Sorry,” Ji-Woo winced as she heard the words coming out of your friends. You simply eyed them with amusement. “I told them they should be more understanding of your relationship, but they just don’t like him.”

You smiled at her and shook your head. “Don’t worry. I do get where they’re coming from.” You looked at them all. “I just wish you guys had a bit of faith in me.”

“We love you, honey,” Bora frowned. “We just don’t want to see you hurt. Especially with the way he seems to be in a relationship with Yoo-ra instead.”

You sighed, but you couldn’t help but agree. “I know. But, just trust me, okay? If anything happens, though, I know I have my amazing friends by my side who I wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.”

They all awed at your words and hugged you to their sides. You lightly laughed at their actions and reciprocated their hug, though, among that, you felt someone’s eyes cast on you.

Looking up, you made eye contact with Taehyung, who was not so far from you. His eyes were on you and he didn’t look away from you once you set your own eyes on him. If anything, he just stared you down until you eventually looked away.

Small stares like that between you two occurred more that week than any other day. It was a cycle: he would look at you, you would look at him, he would look at you, and it would repeat. You didn’t mind it because you had assumed it was one of those instances where you looked up at the same moment as someone who did, too, and it felt like that with Taehyung. But his gaze looked like it was more hatred and dislike than genuineness. You were intimidated; you had to admit.

“Okay, class!” Your gym teacher exclaimed, catching everyone’s attention. She held a clipboard in her hand and a whistle in the other. “We will be playing a classic game of dodgeball, today. Just for a bit and then you can have free time.” Everyone clapped at that mention. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, find a partner please, and if you don’t find one, I will assign one to you. I’ll call out your name to make sure you have a partner. Go.”

Your eyes took a look around the auditorium and smiled once you saw your boyfriend across the room. He smiled at you and was on his way to you, but just as you reached him, he ignored you and swerved past you to partner up with another girl. And there it was. Of course, you weren’t going to be his first option.

Everyone had partnered up, and you were there, looking around the room as if someone would drop their partners and head towards you (no one would).

“Okay, everyone!” Your teacher called out, spreading her arms in and out. “Come over so I can call on you and you can tell me your name and your partner’s.”

“Yeah, it’s funny,” you heard Su-Jin immediately spark up a conversation with the girl he chose to be with from behind you. You sighed because you felt the humiliation. “I like that subject, too.”

“Y/n, have you chosen a partner?” Your teacher asked, looking at you underneath her glasses. You looked around and though there were other students, you knew for a fact it would be awkward since you talked to no one. They had their group of friends they already picked in their heads, and you did not want to deal with an annoyed person.

As you opened your mouth to answer if being alone was a choice, a voice spoke from behind you.

“I’ll pair up with her.”

You looked at the source of the voice and froze for a second when you came to find Taehyung there, wearing his usual bored expression on his face. Everyone, even Su-Jin, glanced at him and then back at you, clearly in shock that he would even volunteer himself. He was always the one everyone went to and even then, he would immediately say “no” before the words could escape their mouth.

“Good,” your teacher hummed, looking down at her clipboard, and moving on to the next student. You could see so many shoulders deflate and you figured they were going to ask Taehyung. You internally winced.

“Do you know how to dodge?” Taehyung’s low voice hit your ears and your head snapped up to look at him.

“I mean, I’m not fast enough but, I can manage,” you replied. He nodded and placed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“I’ll protect you from getting hit,” he said as if it was nothing. “Just move if I can’t protect you.”

“I’ll try.”

And tried, you two did.

It was a bit awkward at first. You two didn’t know what to do, considering the fact you two have never spoken more than two or three words to one another out of the two years you and Su-Jin have dated. But, after the first round, you two managed to stay in and win. Su-Jin and his partner were also winning, but you and Taehyung were on a roll. Sometimes, he would grab you by the sleeve of your sweater and yank you away from a ball hurling at you, all while you made sure that he didn’t get hit at all—you did a pretty good job.

During the last round, your teacher declared that you and Taehyung, along with Su-Jin and his partner, would be competing against one another since your groups were tied. The other groups sighed in relief. You didn’t.

“Uh, am I the only one that is not happy about this?” You nervously chuckled, peeking over Taehyung’s shoulder to look at your boyfriend. You swore you heard Taehyung snort.

“Just be careful,” he advised, glancing at you. “Su-Jin plays rough and he will not hesitate to hit me, or you, in the face. The most important thing is for him to win, and that’s more important to him than caring about our feelings.”

“Face?” Your mouth slightly opened. He nodded. You groaned. “Dude, I did not sign up to be hit in the face by a man.”

“Even if he’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes.” You gulped loudly rather dramatically. “If he hits me, give me the ball and I’ll hit him even harder.”

“Got it. But you better aim good.”

The game started before you could blink, and Taehyung and Su-Jin were the ones trying to hit each other the most. You and Su-Jin’s partner would simply pass them the ball, and it was up to you to defend yourself as best as you could, because Su-Jin would aim at you once in a while.

Much to your luck, though, Su-Jin—and everyone else—was starting to get annoyed at not being able to hit Taehyung, so he aimed the hand holding the ball at you, all while winking at the girl! Almost as if he was saying, “Hey, look at me, I’m about to hit my girlfriend. It’s going to be funny.”

You didn’t find it funny, and neither did Taehyung and the other people in the room. Because although Su-Jin was popular amongst the girls, they didn’t like the way he tried to hit you in your face.

“Jerk,” you mumbled as soon as you dodged the ball coming at your face. You scoffed loudly and Taehyung, having moved a bit closer to you to step in if needed, went to hand you the ball you had kindly requested to have. “I’m going to hit him. Give it to me.”

Taehyung stepped back, and with a usual stoic expression, he gave you the ball. He stood behind you with his arms crossed and he, along with everyone, watched as your eyes inspected Su-Jin’s movements. Thankfully, his partner stood aside to avoid getting hit in the process.

“You can’t even throw, Y/n.” Su-Jin clapped his hands rather enthusiastically as if he knew you were going to lose. Your face said otherwise.

You eyed his movements: right, right, left, and another right. You let out a sigh because who knew this stupid game of dodgeball was supposed to be so calculated? You simply threw a ball and hoped it would hit the person.

With a raise of your hand, you threw it and hit Su-Jin directly on the shoulder.

“Not bad,” Taehyung hummed as he stood next to you, eyeing his best friend’s frozen figure. “Thought you were going to lose there for a second.”

“Thanks for that,” you grumbled, casting him a look. He just gave you a small grunt in response. You two eyed your boyfriend dramatically clutching his shoulder, letting his partner fawn over him as if he was a hurt baby, and he might as well have been with the way he acted.

You sighed and walked off just in time for your teacher to blow her whistle, dismissing the class. You didn’t expect Taehyung to be right behind you.

“Why do you let him do that to you?” He asked. You sighed because you knew what he was talking about.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled. You ignored the way he looked at the side of your face, trying to see if he could come to find a reaction. But there was nothing. Just like how he was able to hide his emotions to be shown on his face, you hid yours pretty well, too.

After changing back into your uniform, you walked out of the locker rooms, preparing yourself to ignore Su-Jin because you were not in the mood to look or be around him. Your mood worsened once you saw him talking to your sister and the girl he had been flirting with throughout class. You walked away almost immediately before they could notice you lingering in the background.

You were too busy thinking as you took your usual route to your next class, and they were not good thoughts to be even thinking about. Now, it wasn’t common for you to overthink; you knew Su-Jin loved you and it was always shown through his actions, but lately… you’ve been having thoughts. Overwhelming ones. And you were starting to get pissed off.

Su-Jin hasn’t been the same and you wonder if your relationship had changed him to be that way. He was more dry and more reserved, and he had his moments where he disrespected your relationship by openly flirting with girls in front of your face and everyone’s. It was embarrassing, and you hated it. You just wondered if you were in it for love or because of the loneliness you might feel if you break up considering you got used to him after 2 years of dating.

You sighed and let your shoulders slump.

Walking into your next class, you sat down on your assigned seat, taking out your things hastily so you could rest your head and eyes. Though you stopped in your tracks when your folder hit something.

You looked at the object that prevented you from stretching out your things and grabbed it. On the plain milk carton was a pink sticky note with writing on it: I’m sorry :( hope this makes you feel a bit better - Su-Jin

It made you feel a bit better, but it didn’t exactly help. It felt nice when he spoiled you and tried to make you feel better. You always appreciated everything he did for you, so you would try to repay him by buying him snacks, too, but at least you knew his favorite snacks and drinks. He didn’t know yours even after you had explicitly told him which ones you liked.

“Oh, what’s this?” You looked up from the gift given to you and came to find a friend associated with Su-Jin. You sighed and ignored him, hoping that your lack of words would tell him that you did not want to talk at all. “Aw, our leader Su-Jin got you milk, huh?”

At the mention of the drink, your head snapped to look at the guy already holding onto the small carton of milk. He was holding it, inspecting it as if it was the most impressive thing he’s ever held. You held your breath.

“He buys you milk?” The guy scoffed a little. “He doesn’t even buy our team anything and here you get this.”

“What?” It was your turn to scoff out of amusement. You leaned back against your chair. “Are you jealous?”

“Hell yeah I am!” the guy exclaimed, waving you off. You chuckled. “You don’t mind me drinking it, right?” He didn’t even let you give him an answer before he propped it open and let his mouth place itself directly on the carton, drinking it.

You watched with disbelief at the rude action because even though it wasn’t your favorite type of milk; it was still a gift from Su-Jin.

“Hey!” You tried to stop him from drinking it further, but he just ignored you.

“What are you doing, huh?” Your eyes turned to look at the new person who interrupted and sighed as you came to find another friend of Su-Jin’s, his dear best friend, Taehyung. Now that you see Taehyung, you feel like you’ve been seeing him way more than before. He was everywhere, and he popped everywhere.

“Tae!” The guy patted his shoulder, opening his mouth to further continue his sentence and greeting but, Taehyung interrupted him by wrapping an arm around his shoulder, eventually cutting him off.

“You’re not teasing girls, huh?” Taehyung teased. You could see the small smile on his lips, usually reserved for his group of friends. “What did we say?”

“Did you know that Su-Jin gives her free drinks?”

“Well, considering the fact she’s his girlfriend, I’m not surprised.” Taehyung glanced over at you for a second before looking away. He cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s go.”

The guy nodded. His eyes fell on your face, and he raised the carton of milk. “Owe you one.”

Glaring at him, he looked away, and you could hear a gulp coming from him that told you your look did you justice.

As soon as his figure was gone, you grumbled incoherent words under your breath, curses thrown at him, for the way he just came to you to steal your milk and drink it all. A small thud stopped you from continuing to spew words that would make your mother faint.

You looked up. Again, your body burned with embarrassment at coming to make eye contact with Taehyung’s brown eyes.

Due to your eyes never straying away, you could see the details on his face you hadn’t seen before. Maybe it was because it was the first time you focused on him and just him and not anyone else. Your attention was on him and his was on you. You could see the mole by his eye, on his cheek, and his lip and you could depict the glossy effect on his lips. You could even smell the faintest scent of the cologne so many girls fawned over because of how “amazing he smelt”, and you could understand why they freaked out.

Without knowing, you can now count the moles scattered on his face if someone asked you about them.

A moment of silence passed, and the chatter of students could be heard again. Your senses came back, and you looked away at the speed of light, playing with your pencil. Though you stopped once you came to see an unidentifiable object out of the corner of your eye.

There’s in its wake was a pink carton and you could recognize that color anywhere considering you grabbed it 24/7. Strawberry milk, your favorite, was there for you to drink, and you wondered how Taehyung knew what your favorite milk flavor was more than your boyfriend did.

Lunch rolled around rather quickly, much to your surprise. You swore you fell asleep, but your eyes had been opened the entire time, helping you pay attention to the notes written down.

You stayed during lunch, realizing that you’d rather take a nap than eat, though, you were even more surprised once you woke up to feeling a presence beside you.

Turning your head, you saw Taehyung’s listening to music in his earphones, still propped up with eyes closed, giving you a clear sign he was awake but was resting his eyes.

You gave him one look before grabbing your buzzing phone, a notification popping up on the screen where a picture of you and Su-Jin was your lock screen.

Su-Jin ❤️: bought tickets to watch that one movie that came out

You smiled at the message. Maybe you were overthinking everything. Maybe, because here was your boyfriend planning out a date to see a movie you’ve been wanting to see. It made your heart skip a beat at the thought.

A new notification popped up.

Su-Jin ❤️: yoo-ra’s coming too

Su-Jin ❤️: she said it’s her favorite movie so i figured we could see it too tht ok?

You simply liked his message because, again, you weren’t happy about it.

You loved your sister. She was your best friend and still is, but why can’t she take a hint you just want to be alone with your boyfriend? It’s not that you were jealous of how close they were, you weren’t jealous, it’s mostly because you haven’t been alone with Su-Jin more than 10 minutes without her texting you two she’s on her way to hang out with you guys. She knew your dates almost every time because either you would mention it or Su-Jin would mention it. But, you waved it off because not every boyfriend you’ve met got along with their girlfriend’s sibling well, and it was so nice to have your boyfriend befriend your best friend.

With one last thought wandering in your head, you refocused on falling asleep, unaware of eyes staring at you.

It wasn’t for long, though, because you got woken up by someone shaking your shoulder. One you knew because she was related to you and had a twin.

“The club decided to meet up today last minute,” Yuri said once she saw you raising your head to look at the culprit who dared wake you up. You groaned, dropping your head. “I know. They’re planning some last-minute event so they want us all to work on it.”

“Okay, okay.” You sighed, rubbing the skin of your forehead. “The same time after school?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Your cousin flicked your forehead before she left, snickering once she saw you were about to swat her arms away. She was gone just as you were about to hit her.

“Funny you think you can hit her.”

You turned your head and were surprised to see Taehyung still there, his eyes closed with earphones still on. You shrugged. “She’s my cousin, I’ve been hitting her since we were babies.”

“You guys are different,” he commented, briefly opening an eye to look at you better. “I always forget you and the twins are cousins.”

“It’s because I’m prettier, huh?” You joked an amused smile spread on your lips. He looked at you and you didn’t let his awkward silence let the smile slip off your face because although you’ve never spoken to him before—other than gym class—you found yourself funny.

With one last look, Taehyung went back to closing his eyes, not a hint of amusement etched on his face. You playfully rolled your eyes despite him not being able to see and sighed out of annoyance that your cousin woke you up at the perfect time to hear the bell ring, emphasizing lunch was done.

Nothing interesting happened shortly after. Since you were getting to know your partners, your teacher cut you all some slack from talking to your new partners any further. He had noticed the awkwardness between his students and the dissatisfaction, so he gave you all free homework.

Immediately after class, you had texted Su-Jin that you would be going to a meeting your club orchestrated last minute. He didn’t text back and you frowned at seeing that 30 minutes had passed and no response. Your cousins quickly went to protective mode once you explained why you were frowning—they had noticed and asked—and they had both said, “We will go look for him and beat him up ourselves.” You and the other girls had to hold them back from doing any damage.

The club meeting wasn’t anything to worry about. It was just a last-minute event that the leaders decided to hold because they had an idea of an event that would surely get you all more people—there wasn’t any need to do so because your club was so girl-oriented many people loved it—and more money.

“We’ll continue this next week since we did call you guys in last minute,” the club leader winced as she could see how none of the girls were prepared. “We just wanted to tell you before we could forget and so you guys can have a week to come up with ideas for the theme. Any help is appreciated and welcomed. You’re dismissed.”

Everyone packed up and left, but you were trailing behind to look at the lack of response from your boyfriend. As someone who was on his phone 24/7, he sucked at answering (or he just didn’t want to text you).

You walked down some hallways and shook your head. You let a smile get back on your lips because you were going to see a movie with your boyfriend (and your sister) and you were going to have fun.

With a determined look, you hummed to yourself and looked ahead. Though, with a smile on your face, you frowned confusedly at coming to see Taehyung looking inside with straight-lined lips and eyes wide open. You could see the shock and horror on his face and you glanced between him and the door.

You turned to look at what he was seeing and his eyes immediately looked down at you, almost as if he just noticed you there, and he did.

“No, Y/n—”

He went to cover your eyes, but it was too late. And you wished he wasn’t.

There, in the room he had been looking inside, and there, in the room that caused him to be horrified, was your boyfriend kissing someone. And that someone was the girl that lived with you and was related to you, your sister.

The scenery in front of you changed to darkness and you felt your nose brushing against something. Your heart was beating too loud you couldn’t hear your thoughts, but small little breaths escaped your lips as if you had just run from room to room.

Having turned you around and moving you two away from being seen, Taehyung’s hand was placed behind your head so your face could be facing his chest instead. His other arm was around your waist to keep you in place and his eyes were looking at his two friends from his position, glaring at the side of their faces. He could hear your shuddered sighs and you could feel that lump in your throat coming to harm you.

“You didn’t have to see that,” Taehyung whispered, his eyes kept on the two people unaware of your presence. You gulped down your feelings and even ignored the tears threatening to escape your eyes to look at who you thought were the most important people in your life.

“What’s wrong?” You heard Su-Jin ask.

Yoo-ra shook her head, dismissing his worries since she had been staring off towards the place you and Taehyung had been at. “Nothing. I thought I heard a noise but it’s probably just me.”

“Just in case it isn’t you,” you heard their feet pattering against the wooden floor and a chair being pushed away, “let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Y/n?” Yoo-ra questioned, taking out her phone to text you. “She’s probably waiting for us in the front.”

“It sounds like you care, Yoo.” Su-Jin chuckled and you could hear them kiss again. You shut your eyes as if it would do anything. “I’m hoping she says no.”

“Why? So we can go on a date?” Yoo-ra giggled at the exact moment your phone silently buzzed against the pocket of your sweater.

Grabbing it, you opened the message taunting you and laughing at you, and read the message left for you. Yoo-ra had texted you, asking if you were ready, but your body froze in instinct and you couldn’t text back.

Before you could finally text back, though, Taehyung snatched your phone with the hand that wasn’t holding your head and texted her for you. You could see him glaring at the message and he quickly typed out his response with one hand.

He turned it off and didn’t give it to you. Instead, he put your phone away in the pocket of his sweater.

“She said she has some last-minute things to do,” Yoo-ra read off your (Taehyung’s) message.

“So, she’s not coming?” Your boyfriend curtly laughed, watching Yoo-ra put away her phone. She hummed. “Thank goodness. We can have that date now.”

“Let’s go.”

Taehyung huffed as he heard their reaction to your (his) message. He couldn’t believe that such close friends of his would commit something like this because even if Su-Jin was an asshole, he wouldn’t be a bigger asshole and cheat on you with your sister. That was not him. Yoo-ra. She was the nicest girl he had ever met and he helped her so much with stuff, he even had inside jokes with her. God, he regretted it.

At hearing their reaction to you not being there, Taehyung looked down at you. He didn’t think Su-Jin would go this far, and now here he had his girlfriend in his arms wearing the same facial expression he’d seen on his mother and sister’s faces so many times.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not daring to look at you once you turned to eye him. He gulped under your tearful gaze and he saw out of the corner of his eye that you looked down to look at your feet.

He was still holding on to you. His arm was still wrapped around your waist and his hand was holding on to the back of your head to keep you in place. He was holding on to you because he wanted to protect you like the many times he had failed to do so with his family. If he couldn’t protect them, he could at least protect you.

“You ready?” Su-Jin asked Yoo-ra as she had packed up her things.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You hear them walk off and both you and Taehyung are just there, left in silence. You swore he could hear your heart hammering against your chest because of how quiet it was between you two, and if he could, he didn’t say.

“Come on,” Taehyung muttered, grabbing onto your hand.

You didn’t dare ask him where he was taking you, but he was so determined to take you somewhere, you let him. You couldn’t even think and at that point, you didn’t care about holding in your tears.

Taehyung didn’t even notice you had been crying until you two ended up at the ice cream shop and the person taking your order was looking at you. Now he looked like an asshole.

“I can’t believe it,” you whispered to yourself almost humorously. A sarcastic laugh escaped your mouth as you continued eating your ice cream. “My boyfriend and sister.”

Taehyung awkwardly leaned against his seat across from you and crossed his arms over his chest. He was looking around the room and could see so many people whispering amongst themselves while looking at you. There was even a group of girls not so far glaring at him like he was the one that did something. So, he clears his throat and looks at you.

“Stop crying.”

He mentally cursed himself at how his words came out and looked at you from underneath his lashes. You had stopped and stared back at him with a look of disbelief, but a small frown came back on your face that told him you were about to cry again. Though, this time you began to sob.

“I just got cheated on and you want me to stop crying?” You sobbed out, covering your face with your hands.

Panicking, Taehyung tried shushing you because the girls who were glaring at him were glaring even harder. “Y/n, Y/n, I’m sorry but please shut up.”

“Shut up?” You sobbed harder. “Why do I have to be stuck with my boyfriend’s best friend?”

As he let you cry, he turned to look at the other people, bowing his head. “Sorry, I swear it isn’t my fault, though. I’m just trying to… make her feel better.”

They didn’t say anything.

Wincing at the awkward silence, he turned to look back at you again. “Y/n, let’s go eat ice cream at the park, okay?”

Sniffing, you agreed and followed after him.

You two walked towards the nearest playground and Taehyung held onto your ice cream when you got into the nearest swing. Placing the ice cream on the other swing, Taehyung stood behind you and slowly pushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed out. You looked down at your feet. “It’s just… my sister? I knew he was an asshole, but to go that far? That’s so fucked up.”

Taehyung sighed. “You need to break up with him.”

“It’s not as easy as you think.” He eyed your frown. “This is the guy I saw myself with even after school.”

“Look,” he leans closer to you as if you two were sharing a secret, and continued, “he’s my friend.” He paused. “Well, he was, but I know the type of person he is. I know it’s going to hurt you to move on, but he’s humiliating you by not staying loyal to you and getting with your sister behind your back.” He saw you nodding your head. “He’s not showing you respect, Y/n.”

You stayed silent, processing his words, and he knew that you were taking them in with the way you stopped moving your legs with his movements.

“You’re right,” you finally breathed out, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t let him ruin you.”

You nodded again to his words and you two stayed silent just like how you did after what happened with Su-Jin and Yoo-Ra. And you stayed there for a bit until darkness surrounded you both and the stars came out. It was crazy for you as to what happened because you didn’t talk to him at all until recently, so for him to be here, reassuring you, it was crazy as to how life works.

“It’s getting late,” you muttered to him, shoulders deflating because you did not want to go to the house you shared with your sister. You can’t even confront her because your parents will disown her if they hear you or even have an idea as to what has happened. “You should go home.”

”I’ll go home after I drop you off.” Taehyung noticed your figure, looked you up and down, and sighed. He went to take off his sweater and handed it to you without even sparing you a glance. You grabbed it and gingerly put it on, softly clearing your throat to dismiss the silence surrounding you two. “Your house isn’t that far, right?”

You bobbed your head up and down. “It’s about 10 minutes away.”

“Come on, then. Let’s get going before it gets even late.”

You nodded and followed behind him. Though he didn’t like you being behind him so, he would stop and wait for you to be beside him and then continue walking, all while making sure you were next to him.

“I feel uncomfortable with you going home alone,” you said once you stopped in front of your apartment building. He shrugged as if it was nothing.

“I just have to take the bus,” he simply stated.

“It’ll be at least 15 minutes.” He could see your discomfort still. “Give me your phone number.”

He took out his phone and darted his eyes at you, expecting you to say your words. You quickly stuttered them out.

“Be careful,” you told him once you saw him eyeing his bus coming up soon. “You better go.”

“Go inside so I can see you once I’m sat,” Taehyung advised, gesturing towards the doors. You nodded and curtly waved, but you couldn’t help but turn around to mutter your last words.

“Thank you, again, Taehyung.”

He paused in his steps and gave you a side glance. A small moment of silence passed before he spoke again, coughing a bit.

“You deserved better.” He continued walking. “I’ll text you once I make it home so you’ll feel better.”

He couldn’t even let you give him a response because shortly after you opened your mouth to say something, he walked towards his bus stop, and went in. You smiled a bit at his words and walked off, too, holding on to yourself.

You headed towards your apartment and waved at your neighbors coming out while you unlocked your front door, bidding them farewells after you shut it behind you. You walked towards the kitchen and expected to see your parents and Yoo-ra eating, but there was nothing.

“They went out.” You froze at the voice and you didn’t have to turn around to know it was your sister. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere.”

“Then whose sweater is that?”

Crap.

You didn’t give Taehyung his sweater back.

You looked like shit the next day.

You were up late just recounting everything that had occurred. Did you cry? Yes. Did you get angry when you were about to confront your sister? Yes. Did you do it? No, you backed out, and you were starting to regret it with the way she and Su-Jin tried conversing with you like they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You look like shit,” Su-Jin had commented once he saw you.

You had been avoiding him all day, as well as Yoo-ra, but you had forgotten that you couldn’t escape him at all considering the fact you two shared a class. You were just thankful that your teacher had changed your seats the day before so you didn’t have to feel overwhelmed by your boyfriend’s (soon-to-be-ex) presence.

“Thanks,” you sarcastically remarked, hoping that Su-Jin took a hint you were not in a good mood to deal with his shit. He did.

Because of how quiet Taehyung is and how he minded his own business, you two kept silent. You enjoyed it and he did, too, because you two were just tired of everyone and he disliked everyone.

It stayed that way until lunch started and you were hoping to stay in like the day before so you could catch up on sleep. Your eye bags were so evident even your cousins messaged you to make sure you were okay because you were falling asleep in class. You had to quickly reassure them you were okay before they could bombard you with questions.

“Hey, you ready?” You snapped out of your thoughts at hearing Su-Jin’s voice and gave him a confused look. “Lunch time. Yoo-ra’s already waiting for us outside so let’s head together.”

You dismissed him by shaking your head. “Go without me. I’m staying behind.”

Su-Jin frowned. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the boy next to you did it for you. “She’s tutoring me.”

Su-Jin let his eyes land on his best friend, who was wearing a stoic expression. Like always. “She’s tutoring you?” You could hear the scoff escape his lips. “You guys don’t even talk.”

“The teacher congratulated her for being top in the class.” Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly, annoyance coursing through his body at how Su-Jin pretended like he was not doing anything wrong behind your back. How could he even look at you like he wasn’t just making out with your sister the day before? “I asked for help just like everyone else.”

You felt him nudge your leg, telling you to go along with his claim, and you nodded. “Yeah, I figured since he’s sitting next to me, I might as well help him so it won’t be awkward.”

Su-Jin’s silence did not affect you or Taehyung in the way he expected it to. If anything, it just made you two glance at one another as if you were just questioning what he was doing (you were).

“Hmm, okay,” Su-Jin finally says, hands buried in the pockets of his sweater. “I’ll bring you some snacks.”

“No need. It’s okay.”

He stood there for a bit before moving away. He gave you two a look over his shoulder and frowned because it was suspicious of the way his best friend and girlfriend hung out. He knew Taehyung disliked everyone who wasn’t his friend so for him to ask you to tutor him was out of character. But maybe he was thinking too much about the situation.

Walking away, Su-Jin reached your sister and the two began walking side by side to the cafeteria. She had noticed his facial expression and how deep in thought he was all while noticing that you weren’t there. She peeked through the window of the classroom as the two walked away; you and Taehyung were conversing.

“I thought Y/n was coming with us,” she says, hands clasped behind her back. She smiled at some people who waved at her and even nudged Su-Jin to say “hi” back, but all she could think about was how close you and Taehyung sat next to each other.

“They’re busy.”

And she hates it and you notice it.

She’s your sister for Christ’s sake and you notice her jealousy from afar. She was jealous when you took Su-Jin to a private room to break up with him, but she appeared and claimed she needed help, and was glaring at you as you approached Taehyung, who was walking to the bus.

“Hey,” you said, popping up to his side. His eyes met yours. “Wanna get boba?” No answer. “My treat.”

He hummed at that. “Lead the way and you better pay.”

“Wow, Taehyung.” You chuckled at his words, finding humor in the way he unintentionally rhymed. “You’re a poet now?”

“Y/n, I will turn around and never speak to you ever again while making you cry.” You gulped at his threat and quickly shook your head up and down to depict his words got to you—even if he didn’t find it scary because why would you?—and scared you. “Good. You better pay, though.”

Well, turns out, Taehyung is a gentleman behind those cold brown eyes of his because he didn’t even let you lay despite you reminding him of his early threat.

“I thought I was supposed to pay?” You teased.

“Shut up.” He waved your teasing comment away with a swat of his hand and drank his drink at the same time he spoke to you. “How was it?’

“What?”

“Have you not broken up with Su-Jin yet?” You didn’t have to look at Taehyung to hear the light disappointment lacing the tone of his sentence. “We talked about this.”

“Yoo-ra won’t let me talk to him alone without her taking him away,” you whined, skimping against your booth. “How about I just pay you to do it and you can tell them we know?”

“No.” Taehyung’s eyes burned a hole in your face because of how intensely he stared. You could feel his gaze and he could feel yours. He sighed. “Look, do it before they hurt you even more. If I have to be there with you for moral support, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” He could hear the genuineness in your thanks and he could see the lack of sleep etched on your face. If anything, it made him see the way everything had been affecting you. Hell, he would be affected if he was in your shoes.

Hearing small slurps, Taehyung raised his head to look at the source of the sound and came to see you slurping the boba through your straw. And you were struggling. However, instead of struggling to slurp, you slurped a bit too hard you began to cough.

Amidst your struggle and teary-eyed eyes, you saw a smile forming on Taehyung’s lips little by little, clearly finding your actions funny.

“Do that again so I can take a picture,” he said, taking out his phone to snap a photo. You frowned and scoffed.

“No way!” You shook your head. “I was choking. You want me to die?”

“For a good photo, yes.” He leaned a bit closer to snap a .5 viewpoint and you immediately swatted his hand away, knowing what he wanted to do. “Ow!”

“You do not strike me as the one to know how to take pictures in that way.” He could hear the teasing about to come and he sighed before going back to glaring at you.

“Don’t mention it.”

A smile formed on your lips. “No. Now I have to mention it.”

You two bickered and you felt such normality (in a good way) out of the shitty day you’ve had that Su-Jin and Yoo-ra had ruined for you. If anything, you liked bickering with Taehyung and the way he did have emotions and made fun of you (in a non-toxic way).

Yoo-ra hated it because not so far from you she stood with a friend, and she was the only one to notice that you two were laughing amongst yourselves.

She hated it. She hated seeing you enjoying yourself with a friend of hers because that was her friend. Hers. Not yours. Hers. She hated it with her entire being.

“I don’t know why you decided to grab two more ice cream cones,” Taehyung scolded you, seeing you struggle to hold them against your hands since they were starting to get cold. You couldn’t even ask him for help because he said he hated feeling the coldness when he had just warmed up his hands. Dramatic.

“My mom and dad always get upset with me when I don’t get them ice cream after I’ve been in an ice cream shop,” you quickly explained, twisting the cones in the napkins. “They always know I’m at the ice cream shop, somehow, so I’ll just buy them some.”

“I’m guessing you have a good relationship with your parents?” Taehyung asked, fixing his shoulder bag. You nodded.

“Yeah, they’re in a very loving relationship and they love each other so much, they love knowing that they have kids with one another.” You chuckled at the brief description of how your parents are. “It’s odd to have such… amazing parents, but they have big hearts and they’re so supportive.”

Taehyung hummed. “That’s nice.”

“It is!” You happily reminisced. “What about you?”

You stared at the side of his face for any sort of emotion but nothing. There was no sort of expression shown, no sign of emotion at all. You wonder how he could be that expressionless because he truly did have beautiful features.

“They’re fine.” He shrugged before letting out a long exhale. “Okay, then, let’s take you home.”

You two didn’t talk after that because something you both have in common is liking silence. Surprisingly, the silence between you two isn’t as awkward as it used to and you wonder if the events from yesterday were the reason for that; you two saw the true colors of the people you were close with.

“Coming up!”

Taehyung grabbed you in time just as the bicyclist came by you. However, he had run over the loose shoelaces you had ignored since the beginning of the school day at the same time you tried walking, which was the reason why Taehyung had his arms on you.

“Didn’t I tell you to tie your shoelaces?” Taehyung arched a brow, a small scoff coming out of him to show you his disappointment. “Why didn’t you tie them?”

“I was so busy eating ice cream,” you sheepishly stated, an innocent smile forming on your lips. He simply gave you a deadpan look.

You made sure the ice cream was okay and thankfully, there was no harm in it. You even made sure to look at Taehyung’s shirt to see if he had gotten it dirty (he didn’t).

“Come here.” You looked up from inspecting his shirt and made eye contact with his eyes. You frowned out of confusion and he gestured towards the bench near you two.

He grabbed your arm and led you to sit down before kneeling in front of you. His long fingers, you noticed, tied your shoelaces tightly and when he was done, he looked up to you as if to ask for confirmation if it was uncomfortable. You shook your head.

“Give me one.” Taehyung sighed, grabbing the ice cream that was starting to melt a little in your hand. “And we better hurry up, too, so they won’t melt.”

“Okay, okay.”

Your journey to your house was nothing but quiet as it usually was. You two didn’t need to speak and didn’t feel the need to speak, so the only sound heard was the pattering of your footsteps.

“There you go.” You came to find your apartment in front and a sense of déjà-vu over-flood you since he had done this yesterday. So, maybe it wasn’t déjà-vu. “Here.” He gave you the ice cream. “Can you get up to the floor without help?”

“I think so,” you breathed out. You broke into a smile. “Well, text me again when you get home safe. I can’t have my partner missing.” He felt his brows raise once you gave him a serious look shortly after. “Do not go missing.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’ll tell my kidnappers not to take me because you told me not to go missing.”

“Thank you for understanding.” He couldn’t even tell if you were kidding or not because your tone did not suggest anything. Before he could question any further, you smiled again. “Be safe!”

The next day was the day you were going to officially break up with Su-Jin. Thankfully, you slept a bit better compared to the day before, but it took a bit longer to fall asleep considering that Taehyung kept bombarding you with messages about your plan because, according to him, “You will cry before you can utter a word.” He was probably right (he was), but you had to try.

“Here.” You gave Taehyung a confused glance but saw his towering figure right next to you with his hand handing you something. He wasn’t even looking at you, almost as if he was embarrassed, or shy, that he was being nice, because he was handing you strawberry milk. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Taehyung.” An appreciative smile tilted on the corner of your lips and he hummed in acknowledgment. You looked over your shoulder to see Su-Jin and saw him already having his eyes on you two. You gulped. “He’s making me more nervous.”

“Y/n, he’s just looking at you.”

“Exactly, I don’t want him to.” You placed your forehead on your crossed arms on the table and shook your head. “This is scary. I’ve never broken up with someone.”

“I can see.” You could hear the clear judgment in Taehyung’s voice and he chuckled once he saw you giving him a discreet middle finger for not helping your nerves. “Look, it’s fine. Just think of what happened, Y/n. You deserve better.”

You nodded against your arms. “I do. I do deserve better.” You groaned. “Can’t you stay near? Because what if he brings backup?”

“A.k.a Yoo-ra?” He leaned back against his chair to cross his arms and to give you a look that said everything. He was very expressive.

“Yes.” He could see your head shaking up and down. You let a small gasp escape you and he rolled his eyes at knowing the dramatics were coming because even though he barely started talking to you, he knows you tend to let out exasperated sentences. “Taehyung, they can kill me.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“What if they hit me until I die and they hide my body,” you began to ramble, “and they admit their innocence and everyone believes them?”

“Y/n, they can’t kill you.”

You frowned. “You don’t know that.”

Taehyung sighed. He uncrossed his arms and turned his body to face you. “I’ll go with you.” He could see the smile. “But, I’m going to hide. I’m not going to be anywhere close so you could have privacy.”

“Remember,” you leaned a bit closer as if you were sharing a secret, “if I die, I will haunt your ass.”

“Don’t threaten me like that.” He, too, leaned closer and if it weren’t for the fact your teacher came in, you would’ve just continued your staring contest until you would eventually back down out of nerves.

Separating, Taehyung looked over your shoulder once he felt that familiar feeling of someone staring at him, and let his eyes meet Su-Jin’s own, who was not impressed at all with your guys’ little moment.

Taehyung glared back because he did not give a shit anymore.

Lunch came around and yes, it was bad to end things at school, but Su-Jin had been busy hanging out with your sister, he did not have any days available other than his time at school. So, lunchtime it was.

“What’s wrong?” Su-Jin panted, letting the back of his hand swipe his forehead to get rid of the beads of sweat he had gotten due to playing soccer. He eyed the milk you had in hand and without hesitation, drank it. You could only look because not only was the milk he drank the one Taehyung gave you, but you had saved it so you could drink away your nerves. Su-Jin grimaced at the taste. “This shit is nasty. I don’t know how anyone could like that. I would’ve broken up with you if you liked that.”

You were just staring in disbelief because, first of all, he kissed your sister and now, second of all, he did not pay enough attention to you if he just insulted the milk you always drank. No wonder he always gave you the plain milk.

“Su-Jin,” you breathlessly called out just for him to hear.

He looked at you. “What did you want again?”

You breathed in. “I’m breaking up with you.” His body froze and you observed the way it did. You could also see the way his breathing became heavier, almost as if he was withholding his emotions. “We’re done.”

“What do you mean we’re done?” He scoffed once he got over the shock. You puffed your cheeks and now you were trying to hold in your tears. Damn you, Taehyung. “Y/n.”

“You’re not in this relationship anymore, Su-Jin,” you clarified, not daring to look at him because you know he’s going to see the tears and he’s going to say something stupid. “I’ll have Yoo-ra send you the stuff you’ve given me later. Just… don’t try to contact me.”

“Y/n—”

You were already walking away by the time he spoke your name. You couldn’t deal with it any longer because, yes, you’re the one who ended it, but he’s the reason why you had to. You couldn’t be with someone who is cheating on you with your sister and you’re sure no one would handle that.

“You okay?” You turned your head and saw Taehyung had appeared next to you with his hands in the pockets of his sweater. You sniffed. “I think I should call your…” You started crying before he could finish his sentence. He sighed and took you to a more private place all while he placed your face to his chest. “You’re such a baby.”

“Why are breakups so hard?” You sniffled, wiping your tears away. He softly patted your head rather awkwardly and you backed away at noticing how frozen he was. “Can you bring my friends?”

“Yeah, I was going to do that before you started crying.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right back. Here.” Another sniff. “I went to get you another strawberry milk. Drink it and wait here.”

You nodded and grabbed the pink carton with the straw. He made sure you were okay and he couldn’t help the small sigh escape once he saw how small you looked with teary-eyed eyes while timidly drinking your milk.

“Do you know where’s Y/n?”

Taehyung looked around at hearing the voices of your twin cousins. He couldn’t see them but it was easy to spot their eccentric style from where he was so, he immediately headed towards them.

“Y/n is crying.” He went to speak more but he forgot how annoying the two were, too, because they started bombarding him with questions—even threats—until they noted his unamused behavior. “Anyway, come on.”

“I thought you told her about crying at school,” Yuri scolded her sister, shaking her head in disappointment. “You know people talk especially with her being in a relationship with that asshole.”

“You guys don’t like him?” Taehyung asked, noting their words. They simultaneously scoffed.

“He’s an asshole.” Duri rolled her eyes. “His vibes are just not there but we manage him because Y/n is our favorite cousin.”

“Don’t let Yoo-ra hear you before she throws a fit again and snitches on—Y/n!” You turned your head at coming to hear your cousin’s voice and let your bottom lip slightly jut out. Duri quickly sped up and sat next to you. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I broke up with Su-Jin.” Taehyung stood aside to let your cousins reassure you, but he made sure no one was being nosy and trying to take a peek at your crying figure. You leaned closer to your cousins once you saw their confused faces. “He cheated on me with Yoo-ra.”

Gasps. “That bitch!”

“Where is she?” Yuri questioned, her head moving side to side to see if she could spot your sister. Taehyung let out an exasperated sigh.

“You won’t do anything by beating her up,” he commented, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Why is he here?” Yuri asked, squinting her eyes rather suspiciously at the towering figure. You sniffed and wiped away your tears, feeling a bit better after Duri started hugging you.

“He was there when I found out,” you breathed out, sipping your drink. “Instead of being Su-Jin’s best friend, he’s mine now and now he’s stuck with me.”

“Best friend is a reach,” Taehyung said, looking away from you.

“He loves being my best friend.” You shrugged, a smile now forming on your lips. “But, yeah, that’s why I broke up with Su-Jin. So far, this is just between us, okay? All of us. No one can know.”

“I agree.” You all look at Taehyung. “You two better not blabber about it, either, knowing you two. Su-Jin and Yoo-ra themselves don’t know we know.”

“Okay, okay.”

Shortly after the whole interaction with your cousins, lunch ended and back to your class, you all went. Taehyung made sure you were okay before you went inside and made sure you weren’t going to cry if you saw Su-Jin. You reassured him you weren’t and thankfully, you didn’t. However, Taehyung did note your slightly teary-eyed eyes that glistened when the sun shined on the side of your face, revealing the secret you were hoping to hide. He looked away.

As if it became some part of a ritual, he took you home, promised to text you once he got to his own house, and you tried your hardest to ignore your sister over dinner.

Days passed and each day it became easier to see Su-Jin without wanting to cry. You were starting to move on and believe it or not, something in you moved on the day you caught him and your sister together. You were simply grieving the relationship and the letdowns of what you two promised to each other for the future. You would be fine.

Taehyung became part of your friend group. You don’t know how or why, but he hung out with you a lot more after your breakup with Su-Jin.

“I got you this.” You didn’t have to turn to guess who it was because the person who started his sentence with that, usually had a snack you liked or your favorite milk. He even got you on chocolate milk because that was his favorite.

“Thank you, Taehyung.” You smiled at his actions.

“Nice to see you here, Kim.” Bora leaned back, arching a brow rather teasingly. “We didn’t know we were so popular to have such a good-looking guy like you hang out with us.”

“You’re flattering me too much, Bora,” Taehyung said with a monotone tone. “Give yourself some credit.”

He easily matched all of their personalities, though he did butt heads with Yuri, who was very opinionated. He got along with everyone and you were happy he did because even though he always had a stoic expression etched on his face, he would let a smile or two slip occasionally which had you all teasing him. He didn’t mind—you made sure he wasn’t offended.

“I can’t take you home today,” Taehyung told you as you waited for him outside of school. “Just text me when you get there so I know you haven’t gotten kidnapped.”

“Such reassuring words, Taehyung.” You chuckled at his words, shaking your head at how serious he sounded. “I’ll text you, though. Alright then, I’ll let you go. Bye.”

You waved at him as you started walking with a bunch of other students. He watched you until you disappeared out of his eyes and he trudged towards his destination.

Jimin, a close friend of his and Su-Jin’s, had texted him to meet him in the arcade close to the ice cream shop he had taken you to after the whole situation with Su-Jin and Yoo-Ra. He had rolled his eyes, but he agreed to go regardless.

“Tae!” He turned his head at hearing his name and smiled a little at coming to see his friend not so far from him. Jimin waved him over.

“You finally let yourself be seen, huh?” Taehyung’s eyes met Namjoon and Jungkook’s own. But he turned his head and then did he realize why they had called him: to make up with Su-Jin.

Taehyung clenched his jaw but stayed silent.

“Why is he here?” Su-Jin questioned with almost a scoff.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you but your fight is causing us to worry.” Jimin winced at the way his words sounded. “I know this place isn’t ideal to solve your issues but, I figured you two could—”

“I just find it funny Y/n broke up with me once she started hanging out with you,” Su-Jin said, standing up from the table he and the others were sitting at. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Taking care of your girlfriend, something you obviously couldn’t do considering the number of times you flirted with girls in front of her,” Taehyung commented back and Su-Jin almost lost it by the way he looked so nonchalant saying those words.

Jimin, Namjoon, and Jungkook having been great friend with Taehyung ever since they were introduced by Su-Jin and Yoo-ra, let their heads turn back and forth between them as if they were watching a tennis match.

“What are you trying to say, huh?” Su-Jin scoffed, getting closer to Taehyung to intimidate him, though the latter didn’t give a shit and stayed where he was.

“I just fucking hate you,” Taehyung stoically responded.

“Taehyung—”

“No, Joon, let him speak,” Su-Jin cut off Namjoon, who, at that point, just decided to keep his mouth shut. “I just want to see what he’s trying to say because from what I understand, he’s accusing me of cheating.”

Taehyung leaned by his ear. “It’s not an accusation when I saw you kissing Yoo-ra.” He took note of Su-Jin’s frozen figure and rolled his eyes. He hummed before looking away. “I’ll see you guys later but don’t do this shit again. I’m not friends with him for a reason.”

“Tae—”

Taehyung dismissed Jimin’s words and as he was leaving, he looked over his shoulder.

“Remember Y/n’s not your girlfriend. She’s your ex for a reason.”

You were looking at Taehyung with amusement once he finished telling you all about what happened the day before.

You weren’t surprised that Jimin, Namjoon, and Jungkook had come with that because when you would hang out with them, you could see the respect they had for one another. In their defense, they didn’t know about the reason why Taehyung stopped hanging out with Su-Jin. They were just trying to get their friend group back together.

“I’m still on the fact you defended me with your entire being.” He saw the way your lips were starting to tilt up. He glared at you before you could do so, but you didn’t seem to care and continued to grin. “Taehyung, can I call you Tae now?”

“Really?” He arched a brow. You nodded rather excitedly.

“I’m one of your best friends,” you said, ignoring the way he grumbled his disagreements. “It will be an honor to call you by your nickname.”

“Just say you’re in love with me at this point.” You stilled at his words and slowly looked up at him. “What?”

“Did you just… say that?”

“Well, it came out of my mouth, didn’t it?”

“I know but,” you began, your lips slightly parted out of shock that he let those words come out. You continued, “You never joke around like that.”

“The fact you act like that is a reason why I don’t say that type of stuff,” he said with such honesty you swore your eyes turned into hearts. Wait, hearts? “Anyway, let’s go watch a movie later today.”

“Taehyung, you are shocking me today, I love it.” He heard your giggle and he covered his face with the palm of his hand, almost in an annoyed manner. “But, isn’t it going to rain today?” He shook his head. “Then, let’s go! What movie should we watch?”

“I was hoping we’d decide once we get there,” he replied, walking by your side, ignoring the looks thrown at him like he always did. “I’m not really up to date with the new films that have come out.”

“Me neither.”

That was a mistake.

You two were drenched in water because you were right; it was going to rain, and when you were walking towards the theaters, it started pouring. To make matters worse, a car drove past a large puddle and drenched you two even more.

“You’re very quiet,” Taehyung commented, keeping his hands in his pockets to at least have something of himself warm.

“I’m cold, Taehyung,” you retorted back, puffing your cheeks to emphasize your words. He could only laugh a little at how you were freezing. “You’re lucky we’re going to my house.”

“We are?” He asked with shock laced in his face.

“Of course we are.” You scoffed. “Where do you think we’ve been walking to?”

“I haven’t been thinking,” he mumbled low enough for you to not decipher what exactly he was saying, and it worked because you did not understand anything he said. “Aren’t your parents and Yoo-ra home?”

“My parents are working and Yoo-ra has her extra classes today so she doesn’t get home until late at night,” you answered, turning around a corner until you eventually stood in front of the apartment building you lived in. He didn’t say a word in response and followed after you.

You waved at your neighbor who, much to Taehyung’s surprise, handed you a plate of cookies like it was a routine.

“Made a new batch for you!” The woman yelled over her shoulder as she went into her house to get something. “Also, I made you that cake you’ve been wanting.”

“Ms. Min, you are the woman of my heart,” you said, watching the woman giggle at your words. She waved your words off before she realized Taehyung was standing next to you. “Oh, this is my friend, Taehyung.”

“You look like a model!” The woman began to gush. “Oh, and the two of you are drenched! Get inside right now, honey. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“We will, bye!” You waved at her and she waved back at the two of you before heading inside her house. Taehyung did you a favor and held onto the pan of cookies and cake so you could open your door and thankfully, you noted, that your parents and sister weren’t home due to their shoes not being by the door. “Take off your shoes and stay here. I think I have a shirt that would fit you.”

Taehyung nodded and did so, tenderly taking off his shoes and taking a step forward so he wouldn’t be blocking the door.

Your apartment was small, he observed. Maybe it was him, but his figure was close to bumping into things you weren’t bumping into.

He didn’t know what it was, but your home was very warm and comfortable. He saw candles—they weren’t lit because, again, no one was home—and he saw a bunch of pictures.

Leaning closer, he smiled a little at seeing you as a child with Yoo-ra. There were some photos where they were professionally taken and he could see the dresses your parents put you in. You still had some features, he could see, and he liked the way he could see that your obsession with strawberry milk was a thing back then, too. It was a picture of you, Yoo-ra, and your mom on a picnic, and a pink carton was in your hands just like how it was to this day. It was cute.

“Okay, so,” he turned his head at hearing your voice. He sees you standing by an opened door, revealing your room, while you hold onto a black shirt, glancing between it and him, “I found this shirt. I think it’ll fit you because it fits big on me so, here.”

You handed it to him and he grabbed it. “Where can I change?”

“Just change in my room real quick while I wipe down our footsteps,” you said, gesturing toward your room. He nodded and headed towards it, closing the door behind him.

He stopped in his footsteps, though, once he came to see your room.

“Cute,” he commented under his breath, chuckling at the scenery.

You had photos, too, hung on with fairy lights illuminating them. You had a lot of pictures with your friends, your parents, and even the lady who had given you the cookies. Nothing with Yoo-ra, though, and he hummed in satisfaction because even though she was related to you by blood, her actions said otherwise.

“Ignore the amount of plushies!” You yelled through the door.

While taking off his shirt, he saw the amount of plushies piled up on your bed. He even shook his head at seeing a plushie that resembled your favorite drink. Your obsession with that drink was crazy, but he couldn’t blame you; it was good.

“I’m coming in!” He heard you again.

Opening the door, you had your eyes closed shut. He stared at you with amusement and snorted a little.

“Open your eyes.” You did so and winced at seeing him barely put the shirt over his head, covering his toned stomach that you saw. You gulped and he ruffled his wet hair a bit before noticing your stance. “Y/n, it’s more awkward if you act like seeing my stomach is the most outrageous thing ever.”

“It is to me,” you whined, passing him a towel.

He chuckled and you could see that he was doing that more often.

“I don’t want to overstay—”

Your heads immediately turned to look at the door at hearing it open and close.

“Honey, I’m—” Your dad appeared with a grocery bag in hand and his keys on the other. He stopped to see Taehyung. “Home.”

“Before you freak out,” you slowly began, gulping down your nerves this time. Your dad couldn’t keep his eyes away from Taehyung whose cheeks got redder, “this is my friend, Taehyung. We got drenched thanks to the rain so, I figured, that I could lend him a shirt of mine so he wouldn’t be cold getting home.”

Your dad then turned his gaze at you and Taehyung cleared his throat after a while. “Sorry, um, for intruding.” He bowed his head at your silent dad and turned to look at you. “I’ll see you—”

“You want some tea?” You two looked at your dad again as he began to move towards the kitchen. You glanced at Taehyung.

“I don’t want to overcome my welcome, sir.” He nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his head while he grabbed his bag from the chair he had left it in. Your dad chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s nice to have my daughter’s friends over so don’t worry,” he said, trying his hardest to reassure the raven-haired boy. “You’re a very handsome guy, by the way. I need to brag to my coworkers my daughter is friends with a guy like you.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung blushed and you reached for your phone to see if you could snap a picture before he stopped being embarrassed about the situation he is now stuck in.

“How was school?” Your dad asked you, glancing at you over your shoulder. You shrugged and urged Taehyung to sit down, feeling the previous awkwardness diminishing.

“It was good,” you replied. “Nothing new. Yuri and Duri were saying they were going to ask for permission to sleep over on Friday so, expect that.”

“Those two…” He shook his head.

“And then we were going to go see a movie but, we got caught in the rain,” you explained, making sure Taehyung was comfortable.

“And what about you, Taehyung?” Taehyung perked up at hearing your dad ask him about his day and he began to fidget with his hands nervously.

“It was great,” Taehyung answered. “I’m usually spending my time with Y/n, so everything she has said, I was there.”

“Do you know Su-Jin?” Your dad questioned, grabbing some cups while you excused yourself rather quickly to change. Taehyung nodded. Your father scoffed. “A jerk, that one. I heard what he did to Y/n.” Taehyung watched his movements and he felt his chest swell with such a feeling because his father was absent in his life, so he liked the warmness that your father gave. “I’m happy, though, Y/n has a great support system. She seems happier now.”

“It’s all here,” Taehyung tightly smiled. “She seems to work on herself more and more and it’s nice to see.”

Your dad stayed quiet, his eyes never straying away from Taehyung’s face. He observed him for a few seconds and let a smile break out on his face.

“You’re a nice kid, Taehyung,” he complimented, looking away. “Your parents are lucky to have you.” He gave Taehyung his tea. “Be careful. It’s still hot, and excuse the mug by the way. My wife loves cat mugs.”

Taehyung eyed the mug in front of him and smiled. “It’s okay. I love this one.”

“My wife has a nice eye on things, eh?” Your father laughed a little, receiving a nod from Taehyung. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. “You can come anytime you want, Taehyung. We’d be happy to have you come over for dinner. My treat.”

Taehyung looked up and let his smile stay on his lips. “Sure. I’ll plan it out with Y/n more so she’ll let you know.”

“I’ll expect you.”

“Dad, did you get my last strawberry milk?” You asked, wearing a hoodie that made you look smaller. Your dad looked away at your question and Taehyung looked at you two over the mug as he drank from it. “Dad?”

“I drank it….” Your dad trailed off, not meeting your eye.

“That one was mine,” you groaned out. “You drank the last one.”

“I know, I know,” your dad said, rubbing your face. “But you can’t blame me. It’s good!”

Now Taehyung can see where your addiction to the pink drink came from.

“I feel betrayed.”

Taehyung leaned back against the chair out of comfort, enjoying the scene in front of him. He liked the way you playfully bickered with your dad over the fact he drank your favorite drink, which was also his favorite. He enjoyed the normality of everything and he wished he could stay the longer time passed.

“Are you going on the bus, Taehyung?” Your dad asked him after a couple of minutes passed. Taehyung nodded.

“I am.”

“Be careful driving, okay?” Your dad arched a brow and Taehyung key out a breathless chuckle, nodding while sipping the last of the tea he was given.

“I will.” He stood up and you did, too, putting on your slippers so you could lead him out. “It was nice to meet you.”

Your dad said his goodbye and the two of you left your house to go down to the bus stop. Thankfully, it wasn’t that far, and despite always knowing that, you two noted it wasn’t that far.

“You and my dad got along, huh?” Taehyung nodded. “I’m glad.” You smiled and looked at the buttons of the elevator. “I hope you didn’t think it was too much and maybe next time, we’ll watch a movie.”

“And we’ll look up the weather before we go out,” Taehyung joked, receiving a laugh from you out of agreement. He smiled. “Don’t worry. Your dad was nice, though. I can see where you get it from.”

You looked up at him. “It’s the strawberry milk addiction, huh?” That made Taehyung laugh. “I get it, I get it. It’s obvious. In my defense—”

“Uhuh.”

“—my dad made me drink that the most,” you finished. He playfully rolled his eyes and the two of you stayed quiet until you led him out to see him leave. “Okay, I’ll stay here and I’ll watch you leave.”

“No, Y/n,” Taehyung argued back. “Go back inside, it’s cold.”

“No, I’ll watch you.”

“Inside.”

“No.”

Taehyung sighed and walked off towards the bus stop, getting inside. You watched him from the window and he shook his head at how you looked at him. You were doing it on purpose; staring at him very stalker-ly.

He took out his phone and went to his contacts, pressing on your name. He placed his phone by his ear and looked at you, waiting for you to answer.

“Why are you calling me?”

“I didn’t want you to stand there alone.”

“Y/n, you like Taehyung.”

You didn’t need Ji-Woo to tell you for you to realize that you did like him because you started to notice the signs. It was nothing at first. He was a great friend (and he still is, by the way), but now, whatever he did, whatever look he gave you, whatever brush of your skin against his, whatever smile he reserved for you, it made your heart burn (in a good way).

You couldn’t deny your feelings anymore, but you were scared that if he found out, he would think you had bad intentions from the beginning and only wanted to get close to him just because and not because you wanted to become his friend.

The way he spoke to you, cared for you, and the way he genuinely seemed to make you comfortable says everything. He knows you for you and he knows the real you because you felt so safe around him, you didn’t find a reason to hide your true personality from him. He didn’t hide his either because after he talked to your dad, a bigger connection between the two of you bloomed, and it was very obvious. Everyone noticed. Even Yoo-ra.

She was not happy.

She didn’t know what happened but she had the attention of Su-Jin and Taehyung and every popular guy she knew. She had them wrapped around her finger and she loved the way she had their attention on her but lately, their attention was on you.

She didn’t like it, which was funny because you were minding your business just hanging and laughing with Taehyung and your friends, all while you healed from what she and your ex-boyfriend did to you. You finally were at a good place and she didn’t like it.

“Ow!”

At hearing a crashing sound, you stood up from your bed after texting Taehyung and walked towards the source of the crash.

“Yoo-ra?” You called out, walking towards her. “Are you okay?”

“I broke a glass cup and I tried picking it up and I—Be careful!”

You barely deciphered her words when pain struck you on the bottom of your foot. You yelped in pain and hissed, lifting your foot to see what caused the injury.

“What the hell?” You questioned out loud, eyeing the large piece of glass stuck on your heel. “Yoo-ra, call Mom and Dad.”

Your older sister did so and she felt anger at the situation because she dropped the glass cup on purpose. She was meant to be hurt, not you.

Thankfully, your wound was not deep enough you needed stitches, you just needed to be careful walking, and Yoo-ra ended up with a gauze wrapped around her hand even though she had a small cut.

“What happened?”

You looked up from your notebook and saw Su-Jin standing by your desk, much to your surprise. You frowned and eyed him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not happy to have him disturbing your studying bubble. Su-Jin gave you an offended look.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I heard about what happened and I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

You looked away and went back to writing, hoping Su-Jin would take a hint you did not want to speak to him. He did. He went back to sit on his chair, next to the kid he didn’t like, which you forgot about. You were happy he was not happy in his seat.

“Are you okay?” You now looked up at hearing Taehyung’s voice and gave him a confused look because how are people aware of what happened? “Yuri let me know.”

Oh, yeah. Yuri.

After clashing heads with Taehyung, the two unexpectedly became friends after they discovered their mutual interest in protecting the ones they loved. She admired that about him and he admired that about her. They became each other’s new sources if anything were to happen to you, Duri, Bora, or Ji-Woo. But mostly you.

“I’m okay,” you dismissed his worries. “It hurts to walk but, I can manage.”

“Why didn’t you call me last night?” Taehyung let his brows furrow together out of worry as he leaned down to smooth his thumb over the skin of your ankle that was wrapped up. “I could’ve come pick you up and helped you.”

“Taehyung—”

“What did the doctors say?” He began to question, letting his elbows rest on his thighs so he could stare at you. You averted your eyes from him and nervously shifted in your seat.

“I have to be careful walking on my heel,” you said, glancing at your foot. “It’s not as bad as you think—”

“I’m walking you to your classes by now,” Taehyung cut you off again, shaking his head. “Next time, call me or text me no matter how late it is, okay? I don’t want to hear from your cousin that you got hurt, I want to hear it from you.”

“You care about me, huh?” You teased, a smile forming on your lips that depicted your feelings. He rolled his eyes, though, you could see it wasn’t that serious considering a small smile resided on his face.

“If I say “yes” will that shut you up?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Nope, but it will make me happy.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. I do care about you.” He heard a little giggle escape you and he couldn’t help but let his small smile grow. “Are your parents going to pick you up after school?”

You nodded. “My dad’s coming to pick me up. He also told me we can drop you off since you always walk with me so he’ll repay you.”

“If that’s okay.” He gave you one look before turning to look at your teacher who appeared. “How did that happen by the way?”

“I heard Yoo-ra drop something so I went to check up on her,” you explained in a low voice as your teacher began to talk about your lesson of today. “I didn’t notice that a piece of glass from the cup she dropped was on my way because I didn’t know she dropped a glass cup. So, she has a cut on her hand and I have one on my foot.”

He made a noise of acknowledgment and silence overcame you both.

Taehyung, though, kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, all while thinking of the fact that Yoo-ra hurt herself, too. It’s not that he cared, if anything, it made him suspicious.

He was on his way to the nurse’s office after you had told him your foot was pulsing with pain. He wanted to get you an ice pack before class ended so he went to get it for you since you were going to do it yourself. He didn’t want you to move without him.

“How’s your sister doing?” He stopped in his tracks at hearing the voice of the nurse.

“She’s doing fine,” he then heard Yoo-ra’s voice.

“Tell her to be careful—”

“I will, don’t worry.” He could hear the slight disdain in your sister’s voice and he knew, something in him knew, that she did not like the fact the nurse checked on you one bit when she was there for her. It was understandable, too, but considering how Yoo-ra was in a secret relationship with your ex-boyfriend while you two were in a relationship, he just found her tone off.

He decided to show himself as he continued to walk in and the nurse looked at him.

“What are you here for?” She asked.

Taehyung stuck his hands in his pockets. “Ice pack.”

The nurse nodded and went to fetch it, leaving Taehyung and Yoo-ra in silence. However, she broke it first.

“I got hurt yesterday,” she began, sticking out her hand with a frown on her face. “It hurts really bad.”

He only gave her a small glance before looking away. She scoffed under her breath.

“What?”

“What’s with you?” She asked, trying to catch his gaze since he wasn’t even looking at her. He shrugged in response. “I don’t know why you just decided to cut me off, Tae. We were best friends not even a month ago and you cut me off the next day and stopped talking to me.” Silence. “Why are you even spending time with my sister? I thought you hated her.”

“I never hated her.” Now it was Taehyung’s turn to scoff. “You came up with that conclusion yourself. I have never spoken with your sister so I don’t know why you think that.”

“It’s just…” She sighed. “You seemed to have replaced me with her. You spend more time with her than you do with me. Did she tell you something about me?”

Taehyung glared at her and with his arms starting to cross over his chest, he leaned down a bit. “Last time I checked, Yoo-ra, I’m not in a relationship with you.” The nurse came at the perfect time to give him the ice pack and he continued to speak to her in a hushed voice. “And don’t blame Y/n for me not talking with you. It must be a lot for you to carry that jealousy towards your sister.”

The nurse, having been writing something on her desk, looked at him. “Are you okay? What’s the ice pack for?”

“It’s not for me,” Taehyung answered, carrying the ice pack in one hand. “It’s for Y/n. I’m sure you heard she hurt her foot.”

“Oh, yes! I saw her doctor’s note. Tell her to stay off her heel.”

He chuckled because he knows you’ve been hearing that a lot. He had made fun of you when you had told him you didn’t want to use crutches because it made your armpits hurt, so you had to hear that sentence a lot. He even reminded you because you tried jogging towards your friends and you dumbly forgot you had a big wound on your heel.

“I will.”

He did remind you every second.

It was not your fault you forgot so easily but thankfully, Taehyung was kind enough to give you a piggyback ride to your dad’s car once you whined how painful it was to walk. He wouldn’t have agreed to go with you in the car since Yoo-ra is your sister, but she had a club meeting and wouldn’t get home until later so he happily went inside.

“Hi, Taehyung,” your dad greeted with as much enthusiasm as Taehyung. You shook your head because your dad had not been able to shut up about Taehyung. “How was school?”

“It was good,” Taehyung answered. He softly nudged you once he finished putting your seat belt on. “It was a bit tiring, though, because someone here was whining a lot.”

“Imagine living with her.”

You gasped at hearing your dad’s teasing comment and lightly slapped his arm. “Hey! I don’t whine that much.”

“Of course not, sweetie,” your dad cooed, though he gave Taehyung a wink in the rearview mirror that said otherwise. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

Arriving home, your dad simply dropped you off before he headed to pick up your mom, and then he was taking her on a date to a restaurant she had been wanting to go to. Cute.

You and Taehyung were left alone and you two weren’t doing anything other than Taehyung scolding you because you would be recklessly hurting your heel even more by walking on it. You never learn.

“You tickle me I will drop you—”

“Your sister isn’t home?” You two turned your heads to look at the door—it reminded you of the first time Taehyung came to your house—at hearing the unknown voice. Though, you two looked at one another rather rapidly at hearing keys.

“I think she is but don’t pay attention to her,” Yoo-ra’s voice was heard through the door before she fully opened it.

Realizing she had company, you grabbed Taehyung’s hand and led him towards your room. You even made sure his stuff was inside.

“We have the house to ourselves then,” a deeper voice said next and you thanked yourself for putting your shoes inside your room before they could come.

“So, we have to stay here until they leave?” Taehyung whispered, his face next to yours as you had been leaning against the door to listen. You nodded. He sighed and you shivered at feeling his breath hit your ear. “At least I’m stuck with you.”

You got yourselves comfortable while Yoo-ra and her friends chattered and laughed in the other room. It was nothing but peaceful between you two and you two were lying on the floor side by side while staring at the ceiling.

“I’m happy you get along well with my dad,” you said, smiling at the memory of the way your dad treated Taehyung.

“It’s nice considering my relationship with my dad.” Taehyung closed his eyes but he could tell you wanted to question his comment, so he opened his mouth to continue. “My dad cheated on my mom.” He knew you were going to offer your condolences filled with pity, almost as if he had just lost someone unexpectedly, and it did feel like it, so he spoke again. “Because of that, my relationship with my dad is just horrible because I sided with my mom. It’s just a whole issue based on that so just having a nice relationship with your dad is very… nice, you know? I never had that level of respect so it feels nice.”

You sadly smiled at his words and tilted your head to have a better look at him. You eyed his profile and the way his lashes hit the apples of his cheekbones. He looked so ethereal just lying down there looking so comfortable and safe in your space. You wish you could freeze this moment and replay it over and over because you were sure this moment would stay between you.

“It might just be me feeling very… emotional,” you chuckled to yourself as you began to explain, closing your eyes as you felt such tiredness get to you. You were happy it was a Friday, “but, I’m happy you and I became closer.”

He smiled and he turned his head to look at you, too. “I’m happy, too.” It was his turn to admire you and you could feel his eyes on you. “It makes me even happier to see you smile more and not cry the way you did when you were with Su-Jin.”

“My relationship with Su-Jin was never healthy,” you breathed out. You let your chest heave up and down from the silent breaths you let out, especially at feeling such nervous that your sister might come into your room. “It just sucks I had to see him cheating on me with my sister to finally break up with the humiliation he put me through… that should’ve made me run.”

“He was a walking red flag,” Taehyung agreed.

“Why were you friends with him?” You asked next, your eyes meeting his doe eyes.

“Su-Jin’s the captain of the soccer team so when I joined,” he started, silently thanking you when you gave him a pillow, even though your bed fit you both. He gestured towards your bed and you slowly nodded, climbing in first and letting him climb next. He continued. “When I joined, you know, he was a great captain and he eventually became a great friend. He knew my situation at home so I went to his house and slept there a lot. He became a brother.”

You hummed in acknowledgment when he turned to look at you to make sure you were awake still.

He went on. “But then, he started liking you and I supported his decisions. He’s a great friend, yes, but he became terrible once I got to see the way he treated you after a year together. It was almost as if since he got you already, he knew you won’t leave. So, he continued to treat you like crap. Again, he was like a brother to me but then, after we saw him with Yoo-ra, he’s just a narcissistic asshole who doesn’t care who he hurts.”

You took his words in because for the first time, he’s opening up to you and you’re getting to see Taehyung for Taehyung, and not your quiet friend who rarely speaks about himself.

“Enough of Su-Jin,” you softly spoke, shaking your head as if to rid of the thoughts of that man. “What about you? Tell me more about you.”

He could see the way your lids closed, almost as if you were falling asleep, and you couldn’t help but admit that his voice, so low and deep, was lulling you to sleep. After all, it was already late, and you felt at ease feeling his presence there beside you.

“I was taught how to play the piano by my mom,” he started explaining. “She wanted me to play something so while she and my dad were arguing, I could be playing and be distracted.”

“Your parents still together?” You sleepily asked.

“Yep, they can’t stand people talking about their failed marriage so they’re keeping hush about it,” Taehyung replied sarcastically, hating to think that he’s going to have to go home and not be here at peace with you. “But, yeah, I play piano, I paint, and I love baking, especially baking with my grandparents. They have their bakery.”

“We should go one day.”

He could hear your murmurs and he lowly chuckled because he could tell you were on the brink of sleep.

“We’ll go,” he promised before he stayed quiet, hearing your breathing slow down and become a bit heavier. When he made sure you were sleeping, he turned to lie down on his side and admired your features just like you were doing to him. He could see the beauty marks, scars, and every single thing you tried to hide. He loved looking at you.

Watching a strand of hair block your face, his hand went up to softly move it away so it wouldn’t bother you. Your face twitched and his slender fingers let his hand fall beside your hand under your head.

He smiled and he looked at you because for the first time, he felt calm, and he felt safe. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep at his home, his parents’ loud arguing would’ve interrupted his sleep just like it did every single day, so, being here next to you, enjoying the silence and your breathing, he fell asleep.

The next morning, Taehyung was the first one to wake up.

Surprisingly, you were still sleeping soundlessly next to him, still in the same place as you were the night before. The sun was peeking through your dark curtains but other than that, the room was dark. He quickly grabbed his phone quietly so as to not wake you up, and he winced at seeing his mom call him.

He looked at you over his shoulder and sighed at knowing he was going to have to leave without waking you up so, he grabbed his shoes, backpack, and sweater—he left that behind, though, because he saw the way you liked sweaters that were big on you—and opened your bedroom door. Thankfully, he didn’t have to talk to your parents considering no one was in the dining room and kitchen. But, he did have to talk to your sister who froze once she saw him.

“W-what are you doing here?” Yoo-ra asked, her mouth agape. She took note of his sleepy eyes and his ruffled hair and noted she saw him come out of his room. “You’re sleeping with my sister?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not sleeping with Y/n.” He huffed. “Even if I was, mind your business.” Yoo-ra stayed quiet. “Anyway, bye.”

“Wait, Taehyung,” he suppressed his groan at hearing your sister call him out as soon as he reached the front door. “Why don’t you stay?” She sweetly smiled. “I’m sure Y/n won’t mind if you stay with me.”

Taehyung let out an annoyed sigh, something he did a lot once he woke up. He hated anyone interacting with him, especially if he hadn’t eaten food.

“Bye, Yoo-ra.”

Yoo-ra was not going to give up.

She already took Su-Jin from you so why can’t she take Taehyung away from you?

She hated knowing how loved you were. It had been that way ever since you were children because even though she was a year older than you, teachers praised her for having such a kind, loving sister. Your parents paid more attention to you, how could she not want the attention you have?

“Honey, I made you your favorite dessert,” your mom announced as she knocked on her door. She opened the door and smiled at her oldest daughter, who gave her a plain look. “You want me to bring it here?”

“Leave me alone.”

It wasn’t your fault, though, because you knew she distanced herself a lot and it made your mom and dad upset the majority of the time. You had encouraged her to speak to them and you even apologized to her if anything you’ve done made her upset. However, she has never been aware of the fact you grew up without your parents because she used to be upset when your parents gave you attention. It got bad to the point your birthday had to be shared with her because she loved blowing out your candles and opening your gifts. But, you never hated her. She was your sister. Whatever was yours was her but, she took that literally.

“I’m cold,” Yoo-ra said out loud as you, Taehyung, your friends, her friends, and other students were out due to being on top of the class. A teacher had suggested taking you all out as a reward for working hard so here you are. In the cold. In a fair. She glanced at Taehyung who was beside her, but he didn’t react.

Her friend, having noticed what she was hinting, cleared her throat. “Taehyung, you have a long sleeve under. Give—”

But, Taehyung wasn’t listening, because he was currently looking at you and the flimsy sweater you tried to tighten around yourself to make you warm. It wasn’t working.

Taking it off, Yoo-ra and her friend grinned at each other in satisfaction, but their smiles were wiped off when he walked past them to walk towards you.

“What did I tell you about using that sweater when it’s cold?” You jumped at hearing his voice since you were talking to your friends and felt your arms go on the sleeves of his sweater. “You know you don’t get warm that easily.”

“I didn’t think it was going to be that cold,” you groaned out, rolling your eyes in annoyance at his actions. Though, you did nothing to stop him, and let him zip up the sweater on you.

“Make sure she doesn’t freeze to death.” He looked at your friends under his lashes while straightening his posture and sighed. “And make sure she doesn’t talk to strangers.”

“I-” You looked at him with shock. “I don’t talk with strangers.”

“You made friends with a random stranger while we were in the elevator and turns out he was a toxic ex of your neighbor across from you,” Taehyung explained, arching an eyebrow to emphasize his words. You waved him off, ignoring the stifled laughter from your friends. “You also got told off by Ms. Min’s son, Yoongi, who was not happy about being talked to so early in the morning.”

“They both seemed nice!” You argued.

“Mhm,” he said, giving you a pointed look.

Sighing, you pursed your lips. “Fine, fine. I’ll be careful.” You looked at his friends from behind him. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

“Be careful.”

“I know, I know,” you said. “Now go.”

He gave you one look before walking away, curtly waving at your friends who enthusiastically waved back. Bora and Ji-Woo looked at you with smirks on their faces.

“The tension is loud and clear,” Bora teased, a devious giggle escaping her. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Shut up.

“And the sexual tension was intense,” Ji-Woo commented next, walking alongside you. You let out a small gasp, exclaiming her name. “What? All I’m saying is the way he looks at you… Girl, I would’ve kissed him right then and there.”

Yoo-ra hated it.

Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

It couldn’t.

It beat so loud you were sure Taehyung would hear it every time he would secretly sleep. And yes, he would sleep over.

Ever since he told you about his situation at home, you felt bad he couldn’t get a good night’s sleep, which was the reason why he stayed in during lunchtime with you because he did not sleep the previous night and the night before due to his parent’s arguments. He loved sleeping either next to you or on the floor.

You decided to confess and you thought it was time to confess because of the fact something happened the night before when you were talking.

“When was your first kiss?”

“When I was 16,” Taehyung replied with disgust at remembering the moment. “No offense to the girl but, it was just not… what I expected. It was mostly my fault, though, because I was inexperienced.”

“Are you still inexperienced?” You wiggled your brows, lightly giggling at his reaction.

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’ve had my fair share of private relationships and it made me learn a lot and grow a lot. I think I’m a pretty good kisser.”

“Is that why you moisturize your lips a lot because you love kissing people?” You teased, though you made sure you weren’t overstepping, and he knew that.

“Yeah,” he joked back, his eyes drawn on yours. You snorted and shook his head at his teasing comment. “What about you? When was your first kiss?”

“When I started dating Su-Jin,” you replied. “I know, I know. The douche-bag took everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” Taehyung made a small face at hearing your words and continued to listen to you. “It was awkward because it was his first time, too, but we eventually got the hang of it. Though, I wonder if it might’ve been me or him, but it was never… satisfying.”

“We’re still talking about the kisses, right?” You could hear a small laugh threatening to escape his lips and you playfully rolled your eyes, pushing him away lightly, shushing him. “So, kissing him was never satisfying?”

“Something was missing,” you clarified, shrugging your shoulders. “He always kissed like as if it was his first time so I wonder if maybe I just… never learned how to properly do it right.”

He stayed quiet and you fell quiet, too. It didn’t last for long because he spoke again with words that made you freeze.

“How about you show me and I’ll see if you’re doing it right or not?” He confidently suggested, waiting for an answer. You gulped at his words and taking your chance, you nodded. “I just see you shaking your head but I need words.”

Letting out a small, shaky breath, you say “yes” in hopes he wouldn’t hear the nerves coming to light. If he did, he didn’t comment on it.

You stayed still feeling his breath hit your lips and you could smell the brief smell of mint and the cologne you adored. You could feel his warmth, his skin brushing against yours, and his arm placing itself on the curve of your hip to bring you closer to him.

His lips brushed against yours and you could feel the chapstick he had put on to keep his lips smooth and stick to your lips.

With closed eyes, you two kissed under the moonlight wanting to make a show through the peaks of your curtain, and you kissed like it was your last time together.

He kissed you and your body became even warmer under his hand once he began to grip the flesh of your hip the more he kissed you deeper. You did the same back.

When he felt you kissing him back with the same passion and rhythm he was kissing you with, the hand gripping your hip trailed lower to hover over the flesh of your thigh. He placed his palm on the skin and he briefly separated from you to speak.

“Is this okay?” You nodded against him, but again, he didn’t take that as an answer. his hand went up to grip your chin and make your eyes meet his, letting a soft gasp escape you. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Good.”

He kissed you again and let his hand trail back to its place on your thigh. He gripped the flesh and he went riskier by placing his hand where you wanted him to place it on. He brought you closer if possible all while his hand now gripped your ass. you couldn’t help but let a small moan escape you because of how it felt, and he couldn’t help but let out a small groan escape him after he heard you.

Separating away from each other, you both loved the way your lips had a taste of one another’s; his chap-stick scent was on yours and yours was on his.

“Kiss me again and I hope you know I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Even thinking back on that moment made you buzz with such nervousness because it was so good. But, you didn’t want to take the wrong hint if there was one. You just wanted to tell him, though, that you had strong feelings for him, and if he reciprocates them, amazing! If he doesn’t, then it’s okay because being his friend is so amazing, too.

So, you decided to be brave and send Taehyung a message because even though you wish you had told him under better circumstances, you knew you would immediately back down if you didn’t send him the message ASAP and if you saw him in person. Message it was.

Taehyung was annoyed, like he always was unless he was with you. He doesn’t know why but, he doesn’t get agitated with you like he does with others. Maybe it’s because he’s close with you and loves you, or because you’re just so nice to him.

Taehyung frowned at his thoughts.

Love? Shit, does he love you?

Ever since that kiss that occurred, he can’t help but think about you even more. His mind was filled with memories of you and he could even smell the scent of your perfume as if you were there next to him when you weren’t. He knows he liked you, he knows he did way before you started dating Su-Jin. If anything, he was the one who told Su-Jin about you and Su-Jin fell for you, too. It was a reason why he always looked at you a lot because he yearned for you from afar.

Taehyung was annoyed, though, because Yoo-ra sat across from him, yapping his ear off. She had texted him she needed his help on the subject, but when he just left her on read, she texted him again saying she’d annoy him every day until he agreed. He did not want to suffer from that, so he said yes. For a while, he had stood up and left to look at the row of books, but she kept calling him back.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you the more he stayed and here your sister was trying to get his attention, which she completely failed at doing. He gave her a deadpan facial expression whenever she would whine about him being distracted.

“I thought you were good at this subject,” Taehyung said, his lips pressed in a tight line. “From what I remember, you—”

“What’s going on between you and my sister?” Yoo-ra cut him off, trying to distract him from his previous thoughts. She propped her hand up to rest her chin on it, frowning at him.

“Why are you so worried about my relationship with her?” He asked, raising his eyebrows while he leaned back and crossed his ankles together. “From what I remember telling you, I told you to mind your business.”

Yoo-ra scoffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m just worried.” He could see the way she jutted out her lip to show her sadness. “I mean, we haven’t hung out at all. I miss my best friend.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not reserved just for you, Yoo-ra.” She could see the agitation growing on his face. “And I’m done talking about this. It’s my life and it shouldn’t be this big of a topic for you.”

Yoo-ra frowned at his tone. He never talked to her with that voice and she wondered what she did wrong so he could give her that attitude. She was always his favorite and it was an honor seeing the way he was with everyone and he was nicer to her. Just to her. She couldn’t handle the change of attitude.

After a moment of silence, she spoke up.

“Can you get me snacks, please?” He gave her another look. “Please. Just some snacks from the vending machine and then I’ll shut up.”

With one last sigh, he pushed himself up. He left and she was left alone to think of ways to have his attention on her, but she couldn’t think of anything.

Almost as if luck was on her side, her head snapped to eye Taehyung’s phone that pinged, and she smirked once she saw a notification with your name there loud and clear. Yoo-ra quickly made sure the brunette wasn’t around and she sighed in relief at his hunched figure by the vending machine, struggling.

Grabbing his phone, she knew he did not believe in having a password, especially when he barely used it, so she was able to swipe and be taken to his Home Screen. The picture he had as his wallpaper made her eye twitch because there taunting her was a picture of you and Taehyung with wide smiles on your faces, clearly happy to be with one another. She ignored it.

She glanced up to make sure Taehyung wasn’t near and when she still saw him in his previous place, she pressed on your notification.

Y/n 🍓: Hey, I’m writing this in hopes I don’t back out 😅 but I just wanted to tell you that what happened between us made me realize even more I have stronger feelings about you. I want to talk more in person so please let me down (gently) or let me know if you feel the same… AHH, this is scary 😭

She hummed in satisfaction at reading your message.

Tae 🧸: let’s meet at 8 pm at the park to talk about it okay? don’t stress too much, you’ll find out more about my feelings <3

She scoffs as she sends her message before deleting it and your confession, and blocking you. She shakes her head and rapidly closes out of the app once she sees that Taehyung has grabbed the things she asked him to grab.

Turning around, he walked towards her, gave her the snacks, and sat down.

He looked at her once he heard her silence.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m doing good now.”

And what a mean sister she is because you were so happy to see that Taehyung texted you. You were even happier at seeing the heart he put in the end.

You got ready rather excitedly, putting on clothes, throwing some clothes over your shoulder, and putting on the ones you knew looked good on you. You put on your shoes, grabbed your phone, and made sure there was still time to head toward the park where you and Taehyung hung out.

7:48 PM.

You made your way toward the park and even caught up with your friends with what was going on. They were so excited for you and even texted you to keep them updated. They even tried reassuring you because, in their words, “We know Taehyung likes you so don’t worry.” You hoped they weren’t wrong and you hoped nothing would happen to you judging by the fact it was late, but you sighed in relief when people were still walking.

7:59 PM.

Sipping on your drink and sitting on the swing, your feet were swinging front and back. You patiently waited and when it turned 8 PM, you waited for a bit because knowing Taehyung, he would take his sweet time walking to keep up with the suspense.

You smiled at seeing a dog nearby, all while checking on your phone. Your butt was starting to hurt by sitting on the swing after a few minutes, but you were determined to give Taehyung the benefit of the doubt that maybe he missed his bus. However, 10 minutes turned into 15 then 20, and then 30.

You frowned at seeing the time and texted him but, you didn’t see the lettering under the messages that said it was delivered. You called him and it automatically took you to voicemail, and you knew something was wrong.

None of your calls were ringing and none of your messages were being delivered.

You sighed.

The walk home was silent.

You were embarrassed to an extent and you were wondering if Taehyung backed out because he realized he didn’t like you. Maybe his phone died heading towards you and he was already waiting for you at the park but, if he is, he could come to visit you, he knows where you live.

“Are you okay?” You let out an annoyed breath at hearing your sister’s voice as soon as you passed her figure in the kitchen to head toward your room. You ignored her. “Wait, Y/n, I made hot chocolate. Do you want some?” Silence. “You can’t ignore me forever, you know? We live together.”

“Do we have some of the cookies Ms. Min gave us?” You asked, your nose burning with emotion since your eyes became teary-eyed. She shook her head and you nodded, walking away.

“Wait.” You stopped. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to text Taehyung?” Your body froze at hearing her nonchalant words. “I’m texting him right now, I can tell him to come over if you’re not feeling good.”

So, his phone was working, and he didn’t text or call you back. Maybe he fell for Yoo-ra just like how Su-Jin fell for her and that made you ignore Yoo-ra before walking inside your room.

You needed your friends.

Taehyung felt unease.

It could have been because of the uncomfortable silence between you two in class, but your cousins and friends stared at him as if he had done something wrong. In his eyes and his head, you were the one in the wrong, considering the fact his messages weren’t delivering when he texted you and called you. He assumed you had disappeared on him after that kiss and he couldn’t help but feel upset about it. He went back to giving you his stoic expression.

Days pass and it was gut-wrenching for your friends to witness your (and Taehyung’s) mopey state. When you two would bump into one another, you just looked at each other like deer in headlights and awkwardly walked away without bumping into the other. You were quieter and Taehyung was more angrier and serious.

“We should meet up at the library during lunchtime tomorrow to work on it a bit more,” your partner for the class said to you as you both sat next to each other during lunchtime.

Gracefully, your teacher hadn’t made you and Taehyung do projects or talk. If anything, he assigned everyone a new partner so everyone gets to talk to each other without it being awkward, so here you were, talking to the kid Su-Jin hated.

“That’s fine by me,” your voice trailed off as you became aware of a familiar set of eyes on you.

Looking over your shoulder, you came to see Taehyung eyeing you and your partner. He leaned back in his chair, legs spread, and his dark eyes glared at the poor guy who Su-Jin already hated.

“Um, are you dating Taehyung?” The guy shakily questioned, having made eye contact with said man.

You shook your head and turned to him, giving him a reassuring smile. “No. Just ignore him.”

You couldn’t.

Your love life was dreadful and here, the guy you appeared to love, was unable to divert his gaze from you even when someone was talking to him. You wanted to bang your head on the desk.

“Y/n!” You jumped in your seat at hearing your name being exclaimed and you didn’t even have the chance to see who was calling you because Yuri appeared in front of you. “Guess what?”

“What?” You frowned.

“Yoo-ra just got exposed,” she quickly rushed out, shoving her phone in your hands without warning.

Frowning confusedly, you grabbed it, only to be shown an anonymous account that exposed your sister and boyfriend’s affair that went on behind your back. Your heart thumped against your chest rapidly and you sensed everyone’s eyes on you once you finished reading it.

“Does everyone know?” You breathed out. She nodded while simultaneously humming.

“Yeah, Duri, Bora, and Ji-Woo are dealing with the ones that are spreading rumors not true so, I’m here,” she replied, spreading her arms and letting them fall back on her sides. She leaned closer. “Do you think Taehyung knows?”

“Probably.” You sighed.

“Y/n.” You two turned your heads and glanced at one another confusedly at seeing Yoo-ra’s friends come in. “We came to say that you did not deserve what happened to you. You have our full support during this time and Yoo-ra’s such a bitch for doing that to you, her sister.”

You gulped. “Thank you. Um, thank you for your support?”

You were taken aback at feeling them hug you, and Yuri, thank goodness she was there next to you, pushed them aside with a sweet smile.

“This is a hard time for my cousin so please let our family deal with this.” She pushed them aside, nodding along to their words of encouragement.

At feeling a bunch of eyes on you, you excused yourself and left, all while remembering the place Taehyung took you to after you broke up with Su-Jin.

Walking there, you inhaled deeply to calm down the anxiety catching up to you. Your hands were clasped together and they felt clammy against one another, but you ignored that because everyone gave you pitied looks that had you wanting to pull your hair and scream.

You sat down on a bench and let your head rest on your thighs because as much as you had moved on from your sister and ex-boyfriend betraying you, it was overwhelming to know that everyone knew about it.

“Here.” You jumped at hearing someone speak and you didn’t have to look up to know it was Taehyung. “Y/n.”

“I’m crying so, what?” You simply muttered.

“I got you a strawberry milk.” You heard a thud beside you. “You’re okay?”

“Everyone is staring.” You groaned. “I will bitch slap them all, even Su-Jin and Yoo-ra.”

A small chuckle came from him before he quieted down. “Drink the milk, breathe, and just calm down. I’ll deal with this.”

He walked away at the same time you grabbed the milk as best as you could since you didn’t raise your head. Once you got it, you drank it, wiping away the tears with your sleeve. What has life come to?

The news circulated amongst everyone like wildfire. It got bad to the point your parents found out and the lecture they gave Yoo-ran for betraying you and embarrassing had her not looking at you. Not only was Yoo-ra hated, Su-Jin was kicked off the team for his actions, something—Ji-Woo had mentioned—Taehyung was responsible for.

That was the only time you’ve spoken to him.

Life went on and as sad as it was, you tried your hardest to move on from him because you knew where your relationship stands; it’s no more.

Yuri and Duri, though, were not having it (they didn’t know about your conversation with him).

“What’s wrong?”

Taehyung snapped out of his thoughts at hearing Su-Jin’s brother, Seok-Jin, voice questions his silence.

Jimin, having heard of the rumors, shook his head. “He’s thinking about Y/n.” Jin perked up at hearing your name. “She and Taehyung were joined by the hip after her breakup with Su-Jin”

“What happened?” Jin asked, sipping his drink.

Taehyung sighed defeatedly. “I don’t know.” He frowned. “I just… I thought we had something but, she ghosted me shortly after we kissed.”

“Ghosted you?” Jin questioned before a humorous chuckle left his lips. “Yeah, right. Y/n does not have the nerve to ghost someone without feeling bad. She felt bad when she didn’t answer immediately to my message, I had to reassure her it was okay.”

Taehyung rubbed the skin of his forehead between his fingers. “I miss her.” Jimin eyed his best friend’s actions at hearing those words. “She made me feel so safe and it sucks, you know? My messages are delivered, and my calls are being sent to voicemail. I don’t know what to do.”

“It sounds like she has you blocked,” Jimin commented, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but why?”

A brief moment of silence surrounded the trio. Jimin and Jin glanced at each other, not knowing what to say. But it hurt seeing Taehyung so defeated and sad from what was going on.

“Asshole!” They stayed still, though Jin looked up to see who was being called that name. Much to his surprise, a couple of girls were making their way towards Taehyung who went back to thinking.

“Um, Tae..” Jimin nervously called.

Taehyung didn’t respond. However, someone made him talk after turning his chair around.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yuri scoffed at seeing a glimpse of shock flash across his face.

“What are you guys doing here?” Taehyung questioned. The twins sarcastically laughed at his question, almost like they couldn’t believe he would ask that in this serious matter.

“Why are you ignoring Y/n?” Duri asked next. Taehyung’s head raised at hearing the mention of your name. “You ghosted her after what you two went through?”

He immediately frowned at the accusation. “She ghosted me, what are you talking about?”

Yuri slapped her sister on the arm and Duri took out her phone in a flash, typing away until she showed him the screen. He looked at them for a second before eyeing the screen and coming to find messages.

“You sent her a message saying to meet you at the park after she confessed to you,” Yuri explained almost in a robotic manner. Though you couldn’t blame her, her cousin was hurt by a guy! And how dare he not see the way he’s hurting her. “She went to see you but you weren’t there. She called you, you didn’t answer. She messaged you, no answer. What game were you playing at?”

“Wait, wait,” Taehyung rushed out at seeing that Yuri was going to slap him. She stopped and he, too, took out his phone to show them his messages. “You can see that I don’t have those messages on my end.”

Jin, having been caught off guard just like everyone was, piped in. “Didn’t you say you were tutoring Yoo-ra the weekend before Y/n ghosted you?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded, thanking his friend mentally for piecing the pieces together. “Yeah! I tutored Yoo-ra on physics and I agreed because Y/n and I made it clear we didn’t want her to know we knew about her and Su-Jin, so I agreed.”

“You don’t know,” Duri started, “but Yoo-ra has a passing grade in physics. She’s passing and she tutors so many people because she gets the subject.”

At her words, Taehyung felt his brain buzzing with too much information. However, he wasn’t surprised due to how Yoo-ra acted knowing he was with you and not her. He let his thoughts go back to Jimin’s words.

“She blocked her…” He breathed out. The others hummed. “Yoo-ra blocked Y/n on my phone. I don’t have a password so she could’ve gotten in.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin gave him an incredulous look at hearing his words, “you don’t have a password?” Taehyung shook his head. “Stupid! What the hell is wrong with you? What if someone had grabbed your phone and hacked you because you didn’t have a password?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung exclaimed back before calming down and letting his anger get to him. “Wait, so, Yoo-ra fucking blocked Y/n on my phone?”

“I don’t know!” Yuri gave him an annoyed look. “Look at your phone, doofus. You have it!”

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice before he opened your contact information and scrolled down. His heart fell to his stomach at seeing the red lettering: Unblock Caller.

He didn’t give the others a chance to say anything because he got up and went running through the door. He wasn’t that far from your house, so he made his way there.

Once he got there, he rapidly knocked on the door, heavily panting and his hands placed on his hips.

“Taehyung?” Your dad questioned confusedly at seeing his favorite person standing in front of him on a Saturday. “Are you okay?”

“Is Y/n here?” He breathed out.

Your dad shook his head. “No, she went out.”

He could see Yoo-ra poke her head from over your dad’s shoulder. “Do you know where she is?” Your dad nodded and sent a glare to your sister at hearing her murmur Taehyung’s name.

“She said she was going to a park.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you!”

He went off running again with a new destination in mind. He didn’t care that his legs burnt from the speed he was going by, he just cared that he caught you before you could leave.

His adrenaline was buzzing in his veins because this was all a huge misunderstanding that was caused by your sister and her stupid ass actions because, for some reason, she hated seeing you with someone who liked you. And he liked you. No, he loved you, and he has since the beginning. He couldn’t let the best thing that had ever come into his life slip away from his fingers.

He sighed in relief at seeing the park get nearer and he was thankful even more once he spotted you on the swing alone.

Slowing down, he walked towards your figure going back and forth on the swing, all while sipping your drink.

He came up from behind you and let his hands rest on the sides of the swing, surprising you.

“Taehyung?” you questioned with wide eyes. You looked around you as if looking for a camera and eyed his composure. “Why are you out of breath?”

“I ran here from that bakery you said you’ve been wanting to go to,” he panted out, thanking you once he saw you passing him your drink. He drank it all in one and softly breathed in. “I’m never running ever again.”

You chuckled. “I fully support that decision.” He smiled at your laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your messages,” he stated, catching you off-guard.

“Huh?”

He fixed his composure once he got his breath back and cleared his throat, running a hand over his messed-up hair. “I saw your messages, Y/n.” He stepped in front of you. “I saw them.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment and looked down at your hands. “You did?”

“I want you to know,” he immediately says, making you look up at him by grabbing your face, “I love you. I love you back and I have been in love with you. I have been in love with you since the day I first saw you struggling to grab strawberry milk in the store to all those times you presented in front of the class. There’s no one else I rather have talking my ear off other than you because I love hearing you talk. I love you and I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t. I return those feelings and nothing will change that.”

You just sit there, stunned, mouth agape, and a frown etched on your face. You were confused because not so long ago you were moping, staring off into space, and now here stood the guy who you thought rejected you and he was professing his love for you.

“You love me?”

“Ye-”

“Then why the hell did you ghost me?” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow while crossing your arms over your chest. But despite trying to come across as stoical, he could read every emotion flashing in your eyes and the way you withheld the soft expression he always loved seeing on your face. He sighed and took out his phone where he showed you the settings of your contact. Your eyes met the red letters: UNBLOCK CALLER.

“I was tutoring Yoo-ra 2 weeks ago,” he immediately started explaining. He even showed you the pictures of the library that he had taken that day, especially the books that sounded interesting because he was going to send them to you since they sounded like something you’d read. “I was planning on sending them to you and as soon as I was, Yoo-ra wanted me to fetch her some snacks. I ignored her but she continued being annoying and said she’ll shut up if I get them for you.”

“And you didn’t want to be around her so you went.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded with compressed lips, a sigh later escaping them. “I came back from getting the snacks and I was so busy trying not to lose it with her attitude so, I forgot about sending you the pictures. I waited for a message from you, but nothing. So, I sent the pictures and my messages weren’t delivering at all. I thought you were ghosting me instead.”

“Did she block me?” You frowned, causing him to raise his hand, the pad of his thumb smoothing the wrinkles caused by the action. His hand rested on your cheek and it was harder for you to focus on anything other than his eyes that always looked at you and no one else.

“I’m guessing,” he breathed out. You hummed and looked over his shoulder to eye the tree. He noticed where your gaze went. “Hey.” He turned your head to look back at him. “I saw the messages you sent, today. If I had seen them the day you sent them, I would’ve run to see you.” A small sigh escaped his mouth. “I love you, that’s without a doubt. I’ve been in love with you, and I’m sorry that it had to take this issue for me, us, to face each other.”

“In conclusion,” you started, a small smile spreading on your lips. You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his neck, head resting on his chest, and continued, “We shouldn’t be anywhere near Yoo-ra.”

“She’ll be too embarrassed to be anywhere near you.” Taehyung snorted, wrapping an arm around your figure. He placed his chin on top of your forehead and you felt his hand place itself on the back of your head, tugging you closer. I’m guessing your parents know about what she did?”

“Yeah,” you nodded against his chest. “I thought Duri and Yuri wrote the post but, it’s too much information that neither of them would know.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muttered, a hand of his placing itself on the side of your face, tilting your head up. You eyed the way his lips parted slightly, the way his hooded eyes scanned your face, and the way the end of his lips tilted up to give you a smirk that you loved compared to the way you hated guys smirking in general. “Fuck her, though, I have you.”

He kissed you.

And yeah, your heart was gone.

Your body felt warm and the way his hands gripped the flesh of your hips tightly made you get closer to him if possible.

He kissed you and he kissed you in between hard and slow, deep and tender. His lips were soft against yours and you had remembered the fact he put on his chapstick 24/7, claiming he didn’t like it when he felt his skin poking his upper lip. It was a weird thought to be thinking about, but you loved the way his lips felt against yours.

“You’re welcome.”

You both jumped at the sudden intrusion and looked around to see where the voice was coming from. There wasn’t much seeking, though, because there, not so far from you, Su-Jin was, sitting on a bench near the swings with an amused smile on his face. He curtly wiggled his fingers childishly, waiving, as you and Taehyung simultaneously let out groans, not wanting to see him.

“How long have you been standing there, you creep?” Taehyung asked, standing in front of you.

“Whoa, whoa,” Su-Jin raised his hands out of mock defense. “I just came here to run away from everything and your confession brought me close to tears, oh, my God, I just had to listen. I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Tae.”

He wiggled his brows and Taehyung gave him a plain look while throwing up a middle finger.

“What are you doing here, Su-Jin?” You asked, though, they could both tell the slight annoyance flashing across your face.

Your ex rolled his eyes as he fixed his composure. “I thought you two would be nicer to me judging from the fact I made everyone find out about the truth.”

“The truth?” You and Taehyung confusedly questioned.

“Hello?” Su-Jin snickered, shrugging as he buried his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I exposed Yoo-ra and myself. I made that account.”

“Why?”

“I was tired of her making me seem like a damn fool in front of everyone.” Su-Jin immediately noticed your expression. “Don’t say it.” You zipped your lips together, though, Taehyung, as if reading your mind, said it instead.

“You are a fool.”

Su-Jin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, you two are perfect for each other.” He looked up and gave you two a glare. “As I was saying, she made people think I was the bad guy in our,” he gestured to you and him, “relationship.”

“I mean,” you started, making a face, “you were the bad—”

“She kissed me first,” Su-Jin said. He gave you a pointed look and Taehyung glared at him until he looked away. “Anyway, I get it, it was bad to cheat on you with your sister but that’s my fault. I chose to do it and she chose to do it. But at least I can admit I’m an asshole. She makes herself seem like I made her cheat on you with her.”

“That’s the type of person Yoo-ra is,” you breathed out. Taehyung hummed in agreement beside you. “Just so you know, you’re still not off the hook with what you did just because you revealed your secret to everyone.”

“I didn’t do it for you, by the way,” Su-Jin snorted, finding humor in your choice of words. He was hoping you two would laugh but when he turned to look at the two of you, he scoffed as he came to find nothing but similar stoic expressions. “You’re no fun.” He rolled his eyes and straightened himself again, glancing at you both over his shoulder once he started to walk away. “I hope you know, Y/n, I truly did love you.”

He left before you could utter a word, and Taehyung eyed his ex-best friend’s retreating figure. Su-Jin was right, though, he did love you in the beginning. It was the reason he asked you out and would brag to you to everyone. He would dismiss girls asking him out, asking for his number, or begging him to follow them. He was always about you, which was the reason why Taehyung was so disappointed to see what he did to you. You don’t call that love; cheating on the person you claim to love with your entire being.

“Well,” you started, breaking the silence with puffed cheeks as you reminisced what had just happened. “Do you need to be home?”

“Nope. Let’s go out. My treat”

“Are we going to that bakery I’ve been wanting to go to?” You asked as you held onto his hand. You two began to walk the opposite way Su-Jin was walking towards to

“Of course we are,” he answered in a tone as if in disbelief at the fact you thought otherwise. “Also, now that we’re together, you do realize you have to meet my parents.” He could see the panic coming in your eyes. “No, no, look… you’ll love my mom. It’s my dad we have to worry about.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Lucky for you, I don’t care what your dad has to say.”

“Are you going to say that to his face?”

“If he provokes me.”

“I love you.”

EXTRA SCENE:

If you even dare hurt our cousin’s feelings, we’ll take you to our other cousins. They can beat your ass.”

Taehyung sat in front of your friends, arms crossing over his chest, and a finger being held by you. You were drinking your milk, looking between the 5 of them with amused eyes and letting your eyes go back and forth as if it were a match. And it kind of was.

“Yeah!” Bora agreed rather loudly, nodding along to Yuri’s words. “I don’t know their cousins but I know they can beat you up if you even hurt Y/n.”

They all stayed silent to inspect Taehyung’s reaction, but he just gave them his usual stare, not amused by anything in front of him. He couldn’t even take them serious because they were shorter than you and he could see over their heads. He wasn’t even looking at their faces! He was darting outside where a dog was strolling around all while he felt you gripping his finger.

“He just wants to eat his food,” you lightly laughed out, shaking your head at their antics. “And guys, we just started dating, wait until I get through his parents, then we can talk about introducing him to our cousins.”

“Warning,” Duri dramatically whispered as she leaned closer between you both, “our cousins are worse than us.”

That caught Taehyung’s attention. “Are you kidding?”

“No, good luck.”

“Y/n…” Taehyung gulped, displaying the only sign of his worrying. “Is that true?”

“No…”

“Oh, God…”

[aaclariww]

Crawling back to you - MYG [Prologue]

Pairing: Rapper!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble series.

Theme: Break up au, pining, so much angst, exes to lovers.

W.C: 0.9k

Summary:

"It's sad to see you go Sorta hoping that you'd stay"

Alternatively:

All the time you thought Yoongi was in love with you - he was in love with his best friend.

Warning: Angst, mentions of cheating and drinking.

Based on Do I Wanna Know by Hoizer (Yes, the cover because that sounds more melancholic)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (For early access) Posting every Saturday

A/N: If you are commenting down to be added to the series taglist make sure you mention your age or you have your age mentioned in your bio. without an age, your request will not be valid.

It only takes a moment. 

To destroy a relationship - to break a heart - it only takes a moment. 

A tear rolls down your cheek as you realize your life has been a collection of those said moments for the past one year now. Yet you stayed silent - clamped an invisible hand on your mouth and forced yourself to smile through the pain. 

And maybe that has been a mistake? 

Maybe your generosity has been mistakenly translated as naivety? 

Maybe that is why you are currently sitting at a restaurant, waiting for your boyfriend, who has totally forgotten about the plan? 

Food has long gone cold - so have your hands… your heart. 

Your eyes are glued to the screen of your phone, which is currently silent but mocking you at its full volume. The screen displays a picture of your boyfriend, wearing an apron, cooking at a kitchen that is neither his nor yours but his best friend’s, as the said woman clicks a selfie of just two of them.

Your boyfriend, you are unsure if he is aware of the camera doing its tricks, smiles fully, showing off his adorable gums. 

How long has it been since he has smiled at you like this?

You browse through the folders of your memories and it only returns as empty. 

Losing track of time, you sit inside the isolated cabin. Dishes start arriving one by one - all Yoongi’s favorites - and start getting cold right in that order, just like Yoongi’s love for you. 

Your hands itch to type a text, or to press the call button and ask where he is, how can he forget he promised you time - a silver of his night, a getaway from his busy schedule. 

But then again Yoongi tends to forget the entire world when it comes to Inhye - his best friend. You are no different. 

It’s useless to fight, to argue - he would give you the same cold shoulders you have been receiving for the better part of your relationship. 

Initially you thought this is just how Yoongi is, and it’s not wrong by any means because he treats everyone similarly. 

Except for that one person - Choi Inhye. 

Yoongi never shared a word about why she means so much to him, why she gets the prettiest of his smiles, the most of his eyes, and probably the deepest of his heart. 

You didn’t know Yoongi could be the person - not until you saw him with Inhye. 

“Ma’am, you have ten more minutes till the reservation is over.” A waitress speaks in a formal tone, standing right before the door. She looks at you and then at the untouched food. 

You smile at her. The tears in your eyes makes it tough to make out her expression. 

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder. I will be leaving now. Can you do me a favor?” you start collecting your things, as well as your sanity. 

“Sure ma’am.” she replies. 

“Can you and your colleagues enjoy the food? I don’t want all these to go to waste.” you blink rapidly to make your tears disappear. 

The room fills with silence. After a beat, the waitress smiles, kind and knowing. 

“Thank you, ma’am. You are so kind.” 

And that’s the best thing you have heard in a while. 

It’s not a shocker that your calls and texts are going unanswered. If it were any other time, you would have given yourself the excuse of Yoongi being busy at his studio, mixing up songs, writing fiery lyrics, sweating at rehearsals. But now that you know he is with Inhye, cooking at her house, forgetting your plans - you feel desperate to reach out to him. 

You want to grab his collar and ask what is actually going on between them, if he is cheating on you with her, if he ever… loved you or not. 

You dial his number again but no success. 

If you were brave enough you would show up at Inhye’s home, question them face-to-face. But you are weak. 

You are scared of the heartbreak that might come from confronting those two. 

So you drive towards your own home. And wait for Yoongi’s call that never comes. 

“Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?” 

The lyrics of a familiar song fill the void of the space. 

Lying alone in your cold dark room you wonder, what’s Yoongi up to now? Is he having a drink with Inhye? Is he laughing on an inside joke? Is he blushing bright red, like he only does when he is drunk? 

Is he perhaps backstabbing you? Pulling her close and kissing her on the mouth the way he used to kiss you before starting to drift away? Before starting to re-discover Inhye? 

You let your tears fall unbound this time. 

On the nightstand, your phone buzzes. 

It can be Yoongi. But currently, you are too afraid to check his texts.

Read the next chapter on Patreon now!

Permanent Taglist:

@chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms @ssbb-22 @miniesjams32 @mar-lo-pap

Requested Tag:

@cherryminnie95 @magicshop96 @taecondafatass @smoljimjim @cannotalwaysbenight @sophiesofsof

[aaclariww]

after midnight, before you. (m) jjk oneshot.

part one. part two paring. jungkook x reader genre. strangers to lovers, toxic relationships, angst, slow burn word count. 7k+ summary. she’s the city: untouchable, too bright, and far away. he’s the stranger who starts to feel like a mirror. ⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

it’s raining the first time he sees her.

not the romantic kind. not the warm, movie-scene drizzle that softens the world or smells like something new.

this rain is merciless. unforgiving. cold. the kind that sticks to your skin like regret and won’t let go. it slicks the streets of tokyo in a harsh kind of neon, turning puddles into mirrors that reflect nothing true. red lights bleed into blue. headlights streak like memories he doesn’t want to revisit.

jungkook walks.

no umbrella. no direction. just his hoodie pulled low and his thoughts pulled lower. his boots slap against wet concrete, ignored by the world — just another shadow with tired eyes.

he wasn’t supposed to be here.

not in this part of town. not tonight. but the sound pulled him — low bass, pulsing like a second heartbeat — from somewhere beneath street level. a basement lounge. hidden behind a black awning, the entrance nearly swallowed by the city’s indifference.

he paused.

not because he was curious. but because the music made him stop walking.

and then—

he saw her.

not through some grand reveal. not under a spotlight or in slow motion. just... there. like she’d always been. like the city built itself around her and then forgot to tell her why.

y/n.

sitting at the edge of the bar like she belonged to the shadows.

a cigarette rested between two fingers — unlit, untouched, but burning anyway. the smoke curled like secrets from her knuckles, slow and steady, as if she didn’t care that it was wasting away in silence.

she wasn’t drinking. not really. there was a glass in front of her, half-full, untouched. she just stared ahead, the neon catching in her eyes, her hair damp and tangled from the storm, clinging to her cheeks like something she didn’t have the energy to wipe away.

and her eyes—

god, her eyes.

blank. unreachable. the kind of tired you don’t sleep off. the kind that comes from knowing too much, too young, and trusting too little, too late.

she didn’t look at him. no one did.

but something shifted.

like the moment before a car crashes. like when the elevator drops too fast and your stomach forgets how to hold you. he felt it in his ribs — that something.

maybe it was her silence. maybe it was the way she seemed untouched by the room, like she’d made herself immune to it. or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t look away.

jungkook sat down.

two stools over.

not beside her — he didn’t dare. close enough to watch. far enough to pretend he wasn’t.

he ordered nothing.

just sat there with his hands in his pockets and his chest full of something he didn’t have the words for.

and that became the pattern.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

night after night.

he returned to that bar he couldn’t name. always around the same time. always hoping, never assuming.

sometimes she was there. sometimes she wasn’t. but when she was — she was exactly the same.

hair still damp from rain. cigarette still burning but never touched. eyes that scanned the world like it owed her an apology it hadn’t delivered.

he never spoke to her.

not even the night she looked at him.

just once.

not long. not hard. just enough to know she saw him.

and then she turned back to the bar. finished nothing. paid for everything. and slipped out the door like she was made of smoke.

gone.

just like that.

and jungkook sat there, heart still holding the shape of her silhouette, realizing he didn’t know if he wanted to find her again — or just wait and see if she’d let him stay long enough to be noticed.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

a week later, it’s raining again. not a downpour, not the angry kind — but a persistent mist, fine as dust, sharp as memory. the city smells like metal and cigarettes, like rain-soaked pavement and long-forgotten promises.

she’s there. same place. same seat. but tonight she’s dressed in all black — not glamorous, not polished — just untouchable.

black leather. black boots. liner smudged under her eyes like she rubbed them raw, then decided not to care.

everything about her says “don’t ask.”

but jungkook stays anyway.

he doesn't sit beside her — not yet — just steps into the bar like he hasn’t been waiting for this moment since the last one. same quiet presence. same steady hands tucked into his pockets. same need he won’t name.

he watches her from the mirror behind the bar, the way her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes. the curve of her fingers around the glass, chipped nail polish catching the low amber light.

then—without looking at him, she speaks.

“you follow people often?”

her voice is low. dry. no trace of softness — just that edge people wear when they’ve been cornered one too many times.

jungkook blinks, surprised. he didn’t think she’d speak first.

“wasn’t following.”

“you sure?” her lips curve, but it’s not a smile. it’s something closer to a warning.

he nods once.

and then—she looks at him.

not glances. not that once-over people do when they clock your presence.

no — she sees him. eyes dark and too-clear, locking onto his like they’re searching for proof.

and something clicks.

not chemistry. not lust. something quieter. more dangerous.

recognition.

like he’s a familiar hallway she once stood in. like he’s the feeling of an old bruise, pressed gently under the skin. like she’s not sure if he reminds her of someone she knew —or someone she used to be.

“you don’t talk much,” she says after a moment, almost amused. almost curious.

he shrugs.

“don’t need to.”

she hums. then tosses back the last of her drink like she’s tired of pretending she needs that, too.

their conversations become routine.

quiet. sparse. unpolished. built out of fragments that don’t ask too much of each other.

they talk about music. about how the night sometimes stretches so long, it feels like it’s trying to tell you something. about the city — how it never sleeps, never waits, never forgives. how it devours people like them — the ones who move without maps. who feel too much but never say it out loud. who fall in love like a secret kept under the tongue.

she doesn’t ask what he’s running from. he doesn’t ask who broke her first.

there’s peace in that.

like two ghosts who’ve agreed not to haunt each other.

one night, she tells him, offhanded—

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

like it’s a line she’s said a hundred times. like it’s a truth she repeats until it stops tasting like loneliness.

and jungkook — he believes her.

he sees it in the way she never says goodbye, never stays long enough to finish her drink, never invites him into her world — but never pushes him out of it either.

still, he keeps showing up.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

after midnight. every time.

always wearing the same look — like he’s studying her without trying to. like he’s okay being the second thing she thinks about, as long as she thinks about him at all.

but even ghosts leave footprints if you know where to look.

and jungkook is starting to leave marks.

a hoodie left carelessly on her couch. his scent lingering in her sheets. the sound of his breath beside her replacing the hum of the city outside her window. the way he touches her — careful, unassuming, like she’s made of ash and he doesn’t want to blow her away.

and that terrifies her.

because it means she’s letting him in.

letting him stay.

and she never meant to.

so the next night—

she doesn’t show up.

no messages. no explanation. just absence.

like someone cut the power to a room he didn’t realize he’d grown used to sitting in.

the bar feels different. too loud, too bright. the music off-tempo. the drinks too bitter. he sits at the same stool, two down from hers, and feels the ache of almost.

the rain outside hits the glass in steady patterns. the neon reflects pink where it used to reflect blue.

and for the first time—

the city feels colder than usual.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

he waits. three nights. then four. then a full week.

no y/n. no cigarette burning slow and bitter beside untouched gin. no slight smile curling like a secret she’d never tell. just the city — loud, neon, and empty.

jungkook starts walking the streets like they might give her back. like maybe she slipped behind a ramen stand, waiting with her hood pulled low. or vanished into a cab no one else noticed. he checks the alley near the old record shop. waits too long at crosswalks. reroutes his nights like maybe she left a trail for him — smoke, cologne, something he could follow.

but the truth settles in slow, like a bruise: she’s gone.

until she’s not.

it happens on a wednesday. a gray, bleeding kind of evening — sky cracked open, air thick like something’s about to fall apart. he’s walking with no direction when he turns the corner into a back alley off shibuya. dim light. a flickering vending machine buzzing like it’s on its last breath. and there— leaning against the wall like the rain didn’t bother showing up for her.

y/n.

head tipped back, cigarette dangling between her fingers, smoke curling soft from her lips. she looks like she belongs to the city more than she ever could to a person.

she doesn’t look surprised to see him.

just… tired.

“thought i scared you off,” she says, voice scratchy like she hasn’t used it in days.

“thought you ghosted me.”

“i did.”

“why?”

she doesn’t answer right away. just stares at the puddle near her boot. kicks a pebble with the toe of her shoe.

“because you’re too good,” she mutters. “and i’m not.”

it hits harder than it should.

jungkook steps closer. one slow foot after another. like if he moves too fast, she’ll vanish again.

“i didn’t ask for good.”

she exhales smoke and regret.

“you should’ve.”

he laughs, once. a sharp sound that cracks the silence. not because it’s funny — because it hurts.

“you think i’m here because i want something perfect?”

she doesn’t answer. just looks at him — and this time, really looks. her mascara’s smudged under her eyes. lips chapped. face pale in the dim light. but god, she’s never looked more real.

“i’m here,” he says, softer now, “because even when you say nothing, it still feels like more than anyone’s ever given me.”

the words land heavy. like rain that doesn’t stop.

she blinks. doesn’t deflect. doesn’t run. doesn’t freeze.

just says —

“i missed you.”

it’s nothing. and it’s everything.

they don’t kiss. they sit on the curb, damp and cracked, knees pressed together. her head finds his shoulder slowly — not out of need, but out of trust.

and for the first time, the silence between them feels like a language.

he listens while she talks. not much, but enough.

about the first boy who said he’d stay and didn’t. about the friend who took more than they ever gave. about the night she learned needing is just a prettier word for losing.

“but i kept thinking about you,” she admits, voice barely there. “about the way you never asked me to be less.”

“maybe you don’t need fixing.”

she smiles, barely. a flicker of something fragile.

“you don’t know the whole story.”

“i don’t need it all. just the parts you want to give.”

later, at her apartment — it’s quiet. too quiet. like the air knows not to intrude.

she walks barefoot. slips into the hoodie he left behind. it hangs low on her thighs, sleeves bunched at her wrists. like it’s meant for her.

“stay,” she says. not pleading. not romantic. just honest.

so he does.

doesn’t touch her at first. just watches. as she folds laundry with shaky hands. as she pours tea and pretends her heart isn’t hammering.

when she finally sinks onto the couch beside him, legs tucked under her, eyes a little wary— he places his hand over hers.

gentle. steady. like asking for permission without words.

she leans in, rests her forehead against his.

“i don’t know what this is,” she breathes.

“it doesn’t have to be anything yet.”

but it is.

it’s something.

because when he brushes his thumb across her knuckles, she doesn’t pull away. when she lets him hold her, it feels like letting go of every wall she’s ever built. and when their lips finally meet — barely, like breath — it’s not a kiss.

it’s a confession in disguise.

the next morning, it’s raining again. but this time, it’s soft. comforting. like background noise to a life that finally feels still.

jungkook wakes to the sound of her breathing. not even. not deep. like her body’s still deciding if this peace is safe.

she’s curled into his side. wearing his shirt. hand fisted at the hem like she’s afraid it’ll disappear.

he doesn’t move. just listens. watches the rain bead against the window.

eventually, she stirs. doesn’t lift her head.

“you stayed.”

“you told me to.”

“you didn’t have to listen.”

he smiles into her hair.

“you didn’t have to mean it.”

she laughs — small and soft, almost startled by the sound.

he thinks he might be in love with the way her laugh feels like morning.

they don’t leave the apartment that day. coffee. silence. the occasional murmur of vinyl playing low in the background.

she learns he hums when he brushes his teeth. he learns she alphabetizes her spices.

at 3pm, the power cuts out.

the whole city goes dim for a moment. and inside, it’s just them — candlelight, shadow, and everything they’re too afraid to say.

“you keep letting me in,” he says, watching her trace circles on her mug.

“don’t know how to stop.”

he crosses the room. takes the mug from her gently. sets it aside like it’s fragile.

“then don’t.”

the kiss that follows isn’t heat. it’s gravity.

her hands in his hair like a question. his breath stalling in his throat as he memorizes the way she trembles.

“jungkook,” she whispers.

and he swears he could live inside that sound.

later — when the sheets are tangled and the candle’s burned low, when her back is to his chest and her breath’s catching in the hush between heartbeats —

“you scare me,” she says.

he brushes his fingers along her spine.

“why?”

“because you make me want to stay.”

“then stay.”

she turns. looks him in the eye.

“don’t promise things you don’t mean.”

“i’m not.”

“then say it.”

he leans in. kisses her temple like it’s sacred.

“stay. don’t leave.”

the city looks different now. not cleaner. not softer. just known.

the streets aren’t just streets anymore. they’re memory. every corner, every shadow — a map of how they found each other in a place that almost devoured them both.

and maybe she still doesn’t belong to anyone.

but tonight — with the scent of him on her skin and his heartbeat steady against her back —

she doesn’t feel lost anymore.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

she hasn’t called jungkook in two days.

not because she doesn’t want to. but because wanting feels dangerous in a way that being alone never did. wanting means hope. hope means risk. and risk is what broke her the last time.

still, she walks through her apartment like he’s there. his hoodie — still draped over the back of her chair — carries the ghost of him, worn soft by her grip. his cologne lingers on her pillow like a secret she’s too afraid to wash away. his voice — or maybe just the idea of it — echoes in the silence she used to crave.

meanwhile, jungkook waits. quietly. reluctantly. he told himself he’d give her space, and he meant it — but it doesn’t mean he’s okay. he spends his nights with the lights off and the window cracked open, as if the city might carry her voice back to him. as if she might be out there, whispering stay into the wind.

on the third night, it rains. again. like the sky knows how to narrate their story.

he almost doesn’t hear the knock — soft, hesitant, the kind you make when you're not sure you deserve to be let in. but when he opens the door, she’s standing there. soaked through. hair clinging to her cheeks. eyes red and swollen like she’s been arguing with herself for hours.

“i didn’t know where else to go,” she says, voice cracking open like a confession.

it undoes him.

he pulls her inside without a word. wraps a towel around her shoulders. brushes her hair back from her face like it’s instinct.

he doesn’t ask what took her so long.

but she tells him anyway.

“i think i’m broken,” she breathes, trembling. “and i don’t know how to be with someone who sees that and still stays.”

his arms go around her then — not in pity, not to fix. but to anchor. to prove she’s not slipping through his fingers this time.

“you’re not broken,” he says, his voice more breath than sound. “you’re just tired of pretending you’re not.”

they don’t sleep that night.

they lie tangled in each other on his bed — no distance, no masks, just skin and warmth and the quiet thunder of trust. his fingertips map the curves of her back, slow and reverent, like he's tracing a prayer.

“did someone tell you love was conditional?” he whispers in the dark.

“no,” she answers after a long pause. “they showed me.”

and it wrecks him. because now he understands — the recoil, the silence, the moments where she almost lets herself be soft before snapping shut again. she wasn’t taught love. she was taught survival.

so he pulls her closer, kisses the crown of her head. lets her fall asleep against his heartbeat. hoping maybe, just maybe, she’ll let it lull her into safety.

when she wakes, she expects the ache. the weight. the sharp pull in her chest that tells her to run before she gets too close.

but it’s not there.

he is.

lying beside her with his arm slung across her waist and his breath warm on her shoulder. looking at her like she’s something worth staying for.

“you okay?” he asks, voice heavy with sleep.

she hesitates.

then, honest: “i’m not okay. but i want to be.”

he smiles, slow and easy. “then let me help.”

and for the first time in years, she doesn’t flinch. she doesn’t build a wall. she just breathes — shaky but present.

he notices the cracks, still. the way she tenses when he brushes hair from her face. how compliments make her uncomfortable, like she’s afraid kindness is currency. how she clings to him in the dark, like she’s afraid morning will make him disappear. but he stays.

and he waits.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

one night, she sits by the window, wrapped in one of his old hoodies that swallows her whole. he never asked for it back — not once. the city behind her glows soft and blue, a blur of lights and loneliness. she turns a cigarette over in her fingers but doesn’t light it.

“what happened to you?” he asks gently.

not like he’s prying. like he’s offering space to bleed.

she’s quiet for a long time. then—

“you ever give someone everything,” she murmurs, “and watch them walk away like it never meant a thing?”

his chest tightens.

“i was nineteen. he was older. dangerous in a way i thought was romantic. he made me feel wanted. until i wasn’t.”

she swallows. hard.

“i gave him too much. pieces of myself i didn’t know how to ask back for. and when i stopped performing — when i was just me — he left.”

her voice trembles. “i broke myself trying to be enough for someone who only loved the idea of me.”

jungkook doesn’t speak. just kneels in front of her, eyes soft, hands open.

“so now i leave first,” she whispers. “i make it easy. i keep things physical. nothing deep. nothing real.”

she finally meets his gaze. and the vulnerability there is staggering.

“but you,” she says, voice almost breaking, “you didn’t leave.”

“you tried,” he says.

“i did.”

“but you’re still here.”

and that’s when it hits her — she is. despite the fear. despite every instinct telling her to bolt.

she’s here. in his hoodie. in his arms. in this moment where the air feels lighter because she stopped holding her breath.

and maybe she’s not ready to say the word for what this is. but it doesn’t matter. because she’s finally staying.

and that means everything.

they end up on the floor, somehow — all tangled limbs and cotton and the kind of silence that says more than words ever could.

not sex. not that kind of intimacy. this is something quieter. more terrifying. the kind of closeness that strips you bare without ever touching skin.

she’s lying on her back, hair fanned out across the old woven rug, cheeks still flushed from laughing too hard at something neither of them will remember in the morning. he’s beside her, one arm tucked under her head like a pillow, the other tracing shapes across the space just beneath her ribs — featherlight and deliberate, like he’s mapping her into memory. his fingertips draw figure eights and broken circles, and she feels each one like a secret pressed into her skin.

he’s not asking for anything. not her body, not her story. just… this. this moment. this nearness.

and she lets him. because if she speaks, she might ruin it. if she moves, he might stop.

her voice is a whisper, more breath than sound: “do you believe in soulmates?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just turns his head to look at her. really look at her. like she’s a riddle he’s not trying to solve — just understand. his eyes are soft, endless. like dusk.

“i think,” he says slowly, “some people find you right when you’ve stopped looking. right when you’ve convinced yourself that no one will.”

her breath hitches. the kind of inhale that comes from something deeper than surprise — recognition. hurt. hope.

“you found me,” she whispers.

“you let me,” he says, and it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever spoken.

he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead — nothing flashy, nothing rushed. just stillness. devotion in its quietest form. a promise written in skin and stillness and warm breath.

her voice shakes. not from fear, but from the weight of being known.

“please don’t break me.”

his arms curl around her, slow and certain, like he’s trying to hold her together.

“i won’t,” he murmurs.

then — softer — “but if you ever need to fall apart… i’ll be the place you do it.”

she tucks her face into the space between his jaw and his collarbone. he smells like sleep and shampoo and something softer, something hers.

time loses its shape after that. minutes melt. the rain returns, tapping against the windows like it’s trying to be let in.

she’s half-asleep when she says it.

“i think i love you.”

it’s so quiet, he almost misses it. and for a second, her breath catches, like she wants to pull it back — like naming it makes it real, and real things can be taken.

he doesn’t say it back. not because he doesn’t feel it. but because words like that — from her — deserve more than reflex.

so instead, he pulls her closer. presses a kiss to her temple. breathes her name into her hair like it’s a vow. stay. not spoken, but known.

because sometimes the most honest thing you can say is nothing at all. just this. just don’t go.

and for a while, she doesn’t.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

love feels different in the daylight. less like a secret. less like a dream. more like something that could disappear if someone looked too closely.

she wakes before him.

the light filters through the curtains in soft, golden bands, slicing the room into hush and warmth. jungkook is still asleep — on his back now, one arm bent above his head, the other resting across the space where she used to be. even in sleep, he reaches for her. even in stillness, he’s looking.

she watches him for a long time. quiet. unmoving. like she’s trying to memorize him the way he did her.

and all she can think is: how strange it is, that someone can make you feel like home and a threat all at once.

her chest aches with it. the wanting. the fear.

so she slips out of bed, slow and careful, like leaving too fast might wake the truth.

not because she wants to go. but because she needs air. and she doesn’t know how to breathe when he’s looking at her like that — like she’s worth something. like staying might be safe.

the floor creaks under her bare feet. the front door clicks closed behind her, soft and final.

jungkook wakes to cold sheets. the space beside him empty. the echo of her body already fading.

his chest tightens before his eyes even open. his hands find only fabric and absence.

don’t do this, he thinks, staring at the ceiling. not again.

but he doesn’t call her. doesn’t chase.

instead, he sits on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees, and breathes through the quiet.

if she’s worth it, he tells himself, she’ll come back.

what neither of them knows is that the city is already pulling strings behind the curtain.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

tokyo, with its endless neon veins and quiet alleys that remember too much, is humming with ghosts. ghosts of past lives. ghosts of old names said in whispers. ghosts of the girl y/n used to be — before the leaving, before the silence.

and one of them has a face.

leather jacket. crooked smile. the kind of eyes she used to write poems about in the backs of notebooks and never show anyone.

jimin.

she sees him outside a konbini, just past midnight, under the flicker of a buzzing streetlight that can’t decide whether to stay on or die. he’s leaning against a vending machine like time never touched him. like the past two years were a blink. like he didn’t disappear with half her heart and not even the decency of a goodbye.

“y/n?” he says, like her name still belongs to him. like it doesn’t feel like a wound in his mouth.

she goes still. every part of her. blood. bone. breath. a reaction carved into her from a hundred memories she tried to forget. from a hundred nights she waited for a text that never came.

“what do you want?” she asks, voice flat, deadpan, practiced. it’s the only thing that keeps her from shaking.

he raises his hands, mock-innocent. like he’s a misunderstood character in a play he wrote and directed.

“i’m back in town,” he says. “thought maybe we could catch up.”

catch up?

like he didn’t ruin her. like he wasn’t the first boy to pull her inside out with gentle hands and then walk away when she had nothing left. like he didn’t teach her that loving someone means giving them the map to destroy you.

“you don’t get to just show up,” she snaps. her voice isn’t loud. but it’s laced with venom. with the kind of quiet fury that comes from surviving something you can’t even name.

but then he smiles. that same old smile. the one that used to mean safety before she learned better. the one that feels like a lie now — but still makes her knees feel like glass.

and that messes her up more than anything.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

she doesn’t tell jungkook.

not that night. not the next. not even when he wraps his arms around her in bed and whispers her name into the space between dreams.

she avoids his eyes. flinches when his hand brushes her cheek too gently. pulls away from kisses like they’re too much — too close. starts folding in on herself again.

he notices. of course he does.

but he doesn’t ask. not yet. he waits.

until the night she tries to leave.

again.

she thinks he’s asleep — his breathing steady, body warm against hers — so she moves quietly. steps into her jeans. pulls on a hoodie. creeps toward the door like she’s escaping a fire instead of a boy who only ever wanted to love her right.

but then—

“y/n.”

his voice cuts through the dark. sharp. not angry. but not soft, either.

she freezes. hand on the doorknob. heart a war drum in her chest.

he sits up. the sheets fall around his waist, exposing the tattoo just above his heart — the one she kissed last night like it meant something. and maybe it did.

“stop,” he says. his voice is lower now. but there’s steel under the velvet.

she doesn’t turn around.

“i don’t need perfect,” he says. “i don’t even need answers. but i need you to stop running.”

the silence after that is thick enough to choke on.

her hands tremble. she hates that he can see it. hates that he’s being kind. kindness has always made her want to disappear.

“someone from my past showed up,” she says finally. the words drag out of her like confession.

“who?”

“jimin.”

and just like that — everything stills.

his jaw tightens. she sees it, even in the dark. but he doesn’t explode. doesn’t throw furniture. doesn’t ask why didn’t you tell me?

he just says, “did he hurt you?”

“not with fists,” she says. “just… with the kind of love that feels like a promise until it’s a knife.”

he gets up. crosses the room in three slow steps. he’s bare-chested, barefoot, real. he stands in front of her like he’s not afraid of the mess.

“you don’t have to be okay all the time,” he says, voice softer now. “you just have to let me stay when you’re not.”

her breath shakes.

“what if i break you?” she whispers.

he cups her face in his hands, warm and steady.

“then at least it’ll be real,” he says.

and when he kisses her, it’s not gentle. it’s not polite. it’s desperate. the kind of kiss that says stay without saying anything at all. the kind that tastes like all the things they’re too afraid to name.

she sobs into his mouth — and he doesn’t flinch. he holds her tighter. not to silence her. but to carry her.

and when he lays her down again, into sheets that still smell like last night, it’s not about claiming. it’s about choosing.

choosing her. over and over and over. until she starts believing she’s someone worth being chosen.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

in another part of the city, jimin lights a cigarette with a hand that doesn’t shake.

he watches the smoke curl into the night sky and thinks of the way she used to look at him like he was a song. like he was worth something.

and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he made a mistake.

he finishes the cigarette. flicks the ash into the dark. and smiles.

because he’s not done.

not yet.

the city doesn’t stop for heartbreak.

tokyo keeps pulsing. cars keep moving. neon signs keep blinking out secrets in colors no one notices anymore. and people — they just keep walking, keep breathing, keep surviving.

but for one night — just one — she lets herself believe something softer.

that maybe love isn’t the thing that ruins you. maybe it’s the thing that remakes you. that finds you at your most broken and says, i see all your sharp edges, and i’m staying anyway.

she’s halfway between that thought and another one — a worse one — when she hears the knock.

three soft taps. a pause. then two more.

it’s nothing. and everything.

like a song from another life. a memory pressed into her bones, not her brain.

she freezes. the book in her lap slips sideways. her heart stutters.

no one knocks like that.

she opens the door — and the world shifts sideways.

“jimin?”

his name tastes different now. less like love. more like something that once mattered too much.

he’s standing in the hallway like it’s been five days, not two years.

he looks almost the same. same mouth. same lashes. same too-pretty sadness. but there’s something new in the way he stands — shoulders a little tighter, like regret finally learned how to wear his skin.

his hair’s lighter. his eyes, darker. and he’s holding a coffee cup — like this is just some casual wednesday afternoon, not the unraveling of everything she stitched shut.

“hi, y/n,” he says, voice low, like it might break if he says anything more.

it hits her all at once.

the nights they didn’t sleep. the quiet confessions made under the hum of broken air conditioning. the kind of pain you only feel when you’re young enough to believe forever is a promise.

the version of herself she buried when he left without a word.

she doesn’t speak. just steps back.

lets him in.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

he walks into her apartment like time folded itself in half. like the couch still remembers the shape of his back. like she still writes her name beside his in the margins of her notebooks.

“you look good,” he says, trying to smile.

she leans against the wall. arms crossed. armor up.

“you left.”

he nods. no apology. no excuse. just the weight of silence straining between them.

“i didn’t know how to say goodbye,” he finally offers.

her laugh cuts the air — bitter, brittle.

“so you said nothing.”

“i thought it would hurt less.”

“for who?” she spits.

and there it is.

the old wound. still tender. still bleeding, quietly, beneath years of pretending she moved on.

they stand in it. in the wreckage of their almosts. neither of them brave enough to touch it.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

when jungkook gets home that evening, the sky’s still the color of apology — soft grays and quiet pinks.

he has takeout in his hands and tired hope in his chest.

until he sees the shoes. by the door. black, scuffed. not his. not hers.

his throat tightens. his heart drops. somewhere, he already knows.

he walks in quietly. finds them in the kitchen.

jimin, seated on the stool he used to hate — the one jungkook fixed last week when it started to wobble. y/n, standing across from him like the ground’s about to fall out from under her.

she looks like she’s trying to hold herself together with muscle memory and spit.

jungkook sets the bags down gently. doesn’t say anything right away. just looks.

jimin turns.

“you must be jungkook,” he says. his tone is casual. his smile is tight. his eyes — sharp.

jungkook doesn’t flinch.

“and you’re the reason she hasn’t been sleeping.”

y/n flinches instead.

jimin raises an eyebrow, mock amused. “bold. you don’t even know me.”

“i don’t have to.”

the air grows dense. charged. like a storm pressed itself between their ribs and waited.

y/n stands between them, breath shallow.

they’re not yelling. they don’t have to. this isn’t a fight — it’s a reckoning.

and she’s standing right in the middle of it.

suddenly, she’s sixteen again. holding two hands and watching both slip through her fingers. trying to keep the peace with a heart that doesn’t know which war to lose.

“can you both not do this?” she says, voice trembling. “please.”

the word please lands like a bruise.

they both go quiet. but the tension remains. like a shadow that refuses to leave.

jungkook doesn’t look at her. not yet.

jimin does.

and god, the way he looks at her — like she’s still his. like time didn’t change her. like jungkook’s presence in this apartment is just an inconvenience, not a claim.

and jungkook knows. he knows this isn’t over. knows that whatever thread connects her to jimin — it’s frayed, yes, but not severed.

he picks up the takeout bags again. sets them on the counter. then looks at her, voice low:

“you should eat.”

and leaves the room.

but not before glancing back at jimin — not a warning. not a threat.

just a promise:

i’m not walking away. even if you already did.

especially because you did.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

later that night, she finds jungkook on the fire escape.

knees drawn up. cigarette burning between two fingers.

he doesn’t look at her when she sits beside him.

“i didn’t know he was back,” she says. “he just… showed up.”

“and you let him in.”

that hurts more than it should.

“you think i owe him something?”

he shakes his head. exhales slow.

“no. i think you still feel like you owe yourself something. for how it ended. for who you were.”

a beat.

“you don’t.”

she leans her head against the wall, closes her eyes.

“i hate that he still has that kind of hold on me.”

jungkook stubs the cigarette out and turns to her.

“then let me remind you what it feels like to be chosen.”

they don’t have sex that night.

they do something far more terrifying.

they talk.

he tells her about his childhood. the mother who always left the porch light on, even when he was hours late. the father who loved in silence. the scars that taught him how to stay soft anyway.

she tells him about jimin. how he was her first — her first kiss, her first heartbreak, her first lesson in you’re not enough when you’re not convenient.

jungkook listens. really listens.

not just to her words. but to her pauses. her breath. the way her voice cracks when she talks about the night he left without saying goodbye.

and then he touches her.

not to comfort. not to distract.

just to be there.

his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

his knee pressed gently against hers.

the kind of contact that says, i’m not afraid of your damage.

by morning, jimin is gone.

but the weight he brought with him lingers.

y/n stands in the doorway of jungkook’s bedroom, watching him sleep.

and she knows — finally — that she doesn’t love jimin anymore.

she just never forgave herself for what he left behind.

but with jungkook…

it’s different.

he’s not her first.

he might be her last.

a week passes like slow rain.

drip, drip, drip — until she’s not sure if it’s time passing or just her eroding.

she hasn’t seen jimin since that night.

but he’s everywhere.

in the jacket she finds stuffed at the back of her closet. in the old voicemail she didn’t know was still saved. in the way jungkook looks at her when he thinks she isn’t looking — not angry, not jealous. just waiting.

and somehow that’s worse.

because jimin left her without warning. but jungkook’s staying without a timeline. and she doesn’t know how to deserve that.

it comes out one night. not with shouting, but with stillness. the kind that creeps in like fog. the kind you notice too late.

they’re in jungkook’s apartment. his fingers are in her hair. her legs tangled in his lap. the tv’s on, but no one’s watching.

she says it quietly, like if she says it any louder it’ll make it real.

“i don’t think i know how to be loved.”

his hand stills. just for a second. then resumes. gentler.

“then i’ll learn with you,” he says.

and she wants to believe that’s enough.

but it doesn’t quiet the war inside her.

later, when he’s in the shower, her phone lights up.

[1 new message] from: jimin → can we talk? i need to say something i should’ve said back then.

she stares at it for a long time.

doesn’t reply. doesn’t delete it either.

the next day, she’s not at jungkook’s place.

she’s not home either.

she’s at a coffee shop on the corner of a street she used to love before it started feeling haunted.

jimin’s already there.

he stands when she walks in, like he still remembers how she used to shrink when people didn’t.

“thanks for coming,” he says.

she sits. doesn’t answer.

there’s an awkward pause — the kind that would’ve never existed between them before.

and then—

“i left because i was scared,” he says. “of how much i felt. of how much i needed you. and of what it would cost if i stayed.”

“so you ran.”

“yeah.”

“and now?”

“now i see you with him. and you’re not just surviving anymore. you’re... real. softer, maybe. still sharp, but not bleeding from it.”

a beat.

“i guess i needed to see what you looked like in love to realize what i lost.”

she almost laughs.

almost.

instead, she says, “you didn’t lose me, jimin. you gave me up.”

he looks away.

“does he know everything?”

“no,” she says. “but he knows enough.”

another pause. the kind that hurts.

“and you’re happy?”

she thinks about jungkook’s hands in her hair. his voice in the dark. his silence when she needed space. his touch when she didn’t know how to ask for it.

“i’m learning how to be,” she says.

and maybe that’s the most honest thing she’s ever said.

jungkook knows she met jimin.

he doesn’t say it. but he knows.

he sees it in her eyes. the heaviness behind them. the way she slips out of his arms a little faster. the way she kisses him slower, like she’s trying to say something she doesn’t have words for yet.

but he lets her have the space.

even if it feels like holding his breath in a burning room.

the fight comes quietly.

no screaming. just sharp truths said too softly to take back.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he asks one night, as they sit across from each other on the floor.

“because i didn’t want it to mean something,” she says. “and if i told you… it would.”

“but it does mean something.”

“not in the way you think.”

“then in what way?”

a pause.

“it reminded me of who i used to be,” she says. “and how hard i’ve been trying to not be her.”

he leans forward.

“but i like that version of you. i like all of them. even the broken ones.”

and she can’t help it — she starts crying.

because maybe that’s the real problem.

maybe she’s afraid that someone could love all the pieces, and still walk away.

he holds her that night like he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

she doesn’t.

but something in her cracks open — quiet and slow.

and when he whispers “i’m not going anywhere,” she finally lets herself believe it.

just a little...

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

authors note. omg hi! another oneshot for you guys! i couldn't fit it all into one page, so there will be another part! thank you so much, you guys!!

[aaclariww]

this made me feel in so many words i cannot put it in words

after midnight, before you. (m) jjk oneshot.

part two (final part!) paring. jungkook x reader genre. strangers to lovers, toxic relationships, angst, slow burn word count. 5k+ summary. she’s the city: untouchable, too bright, and far away. he’s the stranger who starts to feel like a mirror. ⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒ they leave tokyo without telling anyone.

just pack a duffel bag each, toss it in the trunk of jungkook’s beat-up skyline, and hit the road before the sky turns orange.

no plan. no maps. just miles.

it’s y/n’s idea.

“i just… need to not be here,” she says.

and jungkook, without asking questions, replies: “okay.”

they drive south along the coast.

windows down. salty wind tangling her hair. his hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, fingers brushing hers like he can’t help it.

neither of them speaks much.

there’s a safety in silence. a shared understanding that words would only bruise what they’re trying to heal.

they stop at a gas station two hours out. she buys canned coffee and seaweed chips. he buys cigarettes and a lighter shaped like a cartoon frog.

“seriously?” she asks, laughing.

“it called to me.”

they reach a quiet town by sunset. no neon lights. no noise. just the ocean, whispering to itself in the distance.

they find a cheap inn. small, faded, the kind with paper-thin walls and a single queen bed.

she raises an eyebrow when they walk in.

“we’re really doing the ‘only one bed’ cliché?”

“unless you want the floor.”

she looks at him.

“you’d sleep on it if i asked, wouldn’t you?”

he shrugs. “probably.”

she doesn’t ask.

that night, they walk barefoot on the beach.

moonlight painting her skin in silver. his jacket draped over her shoulders. the wind curling around their ankles like it’s trying to eavesdrop.

“did you love him?” jungkook asks quietly.

not accusing. just... wondering.

“yes,” she says. “but i didn’t trust him.”

he nods slowly.

“and me?”

she looks out at the sea.

its vastness. its calm.

“you terrify me,” she says. “because i do.”

he doesn’t say anything. just moves closer. rests his forehead against hers, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of this moment.

“good,” he whispers. “because i’ve already fallen.”

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

they make love like they’re writing a letter with their bodies.

not rushed. not rough.

just real.

his hands are careful. hers are desperate. like she’s trying to crawl inside his ribcage and live there.

he kisses her like a prayer. and she touches him like an apology for every wall she ever built.

and afterward, she cries.

not from sadness.

but because it’s the first time she’s ever felt safe in someone else’s arms and not wanted to run.

the next morning, she wakes before him.

steps outside with one of his cigarettes and the cartoon frog lighter, watching the sun rise over the sea.

she thinks about the girl she was before jimin. and the version of herself she almost became after.

and then she thinks about jungkook — bare-faced and warm-voiced, the boy who let her fall apart and never once asked her to hurry up and heal.

she lights the cigarette.

takes one drag.

and lets the rest burn out in the sand.

when he finds her, she’s sitting on the hood of the car, barefoot, eyes red.

“bad dream?” he asks.

“no,” she says. “i think it was a goodbye.”

“to what?”

she pauses.

“to the part of me that thought love had to hurt to be real.”

he nods. climbs up beside her.

“and what now?”

she leans against his shoulder.

“now we drive until we forget why we were ever afraid.”

they come back on a tuesday.

not on purpose. not planned.

just… when the world feels steady enough to try again.

the skyline creeps into view as the sun dips low behind the towers. tokyo blinks awake like it never missed them. like the neon never noticed their absence.

but y/n feels it — the shift in the air.

like the city is holding its breath.

waiting.

watching.

remembering.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

jungkook parks outside her apartment but doesn’t turn the engine off.

she looks over at him.

he’s chewing on the ring in his lip again. a nervous habit. one she’s only seen three times — once when he kissed her for the first time. once when he met jimin. and now.

“you okay?” she asks.

he nods. then shakes his head. then shrugs.

“what if it’s not enough?” he says. “what we had out there. what we found.”

“it wasn’t enough,” she says quietly. “not for this city. not for everything waiting for us inside.”

his jaw tightens.

“but it was enough for me.”

she leans over the console, presses her forehead to his.

“so we don’t try to bring that back with us. we build something new. right here. with all the mess.”

he closes his eyes. breathes her in.

“okay.”

they fall back into a rhythm, but not the same one.

she goes back to work at the shop. he gets called in for more late-night shifts at the bar. their days stretch thin and their nights get quieter — but not colder.

he sleeps over more. she drinks less. they talk in small ways, in glances, in how her hand always finds his under tables and blankets and dreams.

but the quiet isn’t peaceful.

not all the time.

sometimes it feels like the calm before another kind of storm.

the first time she sees jimin again, it’s by accident.

she’s walking home from the store, bag of tangerines in one arm, when she sees him standing at a crosswalk.

he doesn’t see her.

he’s smiling at someone else. a girl. unfamiliar.

and something in y/n’s chest loosens. not out of relief. not jealousy.

just… release.

like she can finally stop holding her breath around his name.

she keeps walking. doesn’t say anything.

but when she gets home, jungkook notices the shift in her.

“you okay?” he asks, handing her a glass of water.

she nods.

“i saw him.”

he doesn’t ask who. he already knows.

“did it hurt?” he asks.

“no,” she says. “and i think that’s what surprised me.”

they fall asleep on the couch that night. legs tangled. hearts a little lighter.

but she dreams of rain.

of wet streets and empty train stations and voices she can’t quite make out.

when she wakes, jungkook is watching her.

“you talk in your sleep,” he says.

“what did i say?”

he hesitates.

“you said, don’t go yet.”

she doesn’t know if it was about him.

or someone else.

maybe it doesn’t matter.

because he’s still there — warm and real and looking at her like she’s the only thing worth staying for.

and that?

that’s more than she’s ever had.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

the night starts ordinary.

takeout on the counter. music low. her feet in his lap.

he’s reading something on his phone, brows furrowed. she’s picking vegetables out of her noodles and tossing them onto his plate.

he lets her.

he always does.

“you okay?” she asks.

“yeah.”

she doesn’t press. but his jaw is tight. his answers shorter.

so when he pulls away slightly, she feels it like a cut.

“jungkook,” she says slowly, “what’s going on?”

he sets his phone down.

doesn’t look at her.

“jimin messaged me.”

silence.

sharp. total.

“…what?”

“a week ago.”

she blinks. the air shifts.

“and you’re just telling me now?”

“i didn’t know if it mattered.”

“you didn’t know if it—” her voice breaks. “jungkook, he was my everything. and you let me sit next to you for a week not knowing he reached out to you?”

his eyes flash.

“and what would’ve changed if i told you? what — you’d run to him again? fall into that mess one more time?”

her mouth parts. stung.

“you don’t get to decide what i do with the truth.”

“and you don’t get to punish me for trying to protect what we have.”

a pause.

then her voice, softer, but sharper too.

“you don’t trust me.”

his face falters.

“it’s not that.”

“yes, it is. you think i’m still half in love with him.”

“aren’t you?” he asks, and he hates himself for how bitter it sounds.

she steps back. like he hit her.

and maybe he did.

not with his hands — but with doubt. and that’s almost worse.

she grabs her coat.

he stands. “y/n—”

“i just need air.”

he watches her go.

and this time?

he lets her.

she walks for hours.

through alleys. down old streets. past the vending machine where jungkook first kissed her with trembling hands and too much hope.

everything looks the same.

but it feels different.

because now she knows what it’s like to be seen — really seen — and still feared.

to be loved and doubted.

to be held and let go, all at once.

when she comes back, the lights are still on.

he’s sitting on the floor.

eyes red. hair a mess. fists clenched.

“i’m sorry,” he says, before she even speaks.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

he exhales.

“because i’ve never had anything this good. and i thought — if i just didn’t mention it, it couldn’t break.”

“but love isn’t something you protect by hiding. it’s something you share. even when it’s ugly. even when it hurts.”

he nods.

“i know that now.”

she sits beside him.

leans her head on his shoulder.

“he was my past,” she whispers. “you’re my choice. do you understand the difference?”

his breath catches.

and then she feels it — the tremble in his chest, the way his fingers twitch toward hers.

he doesn’t kiss her.

he just holds her.

and this time?

it’s enough.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

three weeks pass.

they start slow, again.

like rewinding a film and watching it with new eyes.

this time, there are rules.

no secrets. no assumptions. and no walking out without saying goodbye.

they still fight sometimes — over small things. over nothing. over everything they’re afraid to say louder.

but now they stay.

now, they come back.

one night, she’s closing up the shop when a man in a clean suit and expensive shoes walks in.

he says her name like it’s been years.

“y/n.”

she stares.

“mr. hamada?”

he used to work for her father. one of the few who stayed after everything went quiet.

he smiles.

“you were always the one with fire.”

“what do you want?”

he hands her a card. the edges gold-foiled. on the back: a logo she recognizes instantly — project kasumi, a custom automotive design company based in osaka.

“we’re expanding,” he says. “we need a lead engineer. someone who understands not just machines… but how they move people.”

she stares at the card.

“and what do you need from me?”

“just a yes.”

her pulse thrums. somewhere between thrill and panic.

“i’ll think about it.”

he nods.

“not too long. this offer isn’t waiting.”

that night, she tells jungkook.

his mouth is slightly open the entire time. like the idea of her leaving — not forever, not even that far — was never one he let himself imagine.

“osaka,” he repeats.

“it’s not like i’d be gone forever.”

“but you’d be gone.”

“i haven’t said yes.”

he runs a hand through his hair. stands. starts pacing.

and then: “would you want me to come with you?”

she looks up.

freezes.

because she hadn’t let herself ask that question yet.

“i—i don’t know.”

honest. brutal.

he sits beside her again. quieter.

“i wouldn’t stop you,” he says. “but i’m not going to pretend it wouldn’t break me a little.”

her hand finds his. wraps around it.

“i’m just afraid,” she says.

“of what?”

“that if i leave, i lose the version of us that finally fits.”

he shakes his head.

“maybe we don’t lose it. maybe it just changes clothes.”

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

two nights later, temptation arrives in a leather jacket and a lazy grin.

her name is sola.

she walks into the bar and says jungkook’s name like a song — old, familiar, a little dangerous.

y/n sees it all.

the flicker in his eyes. the hesitation. the memory that comes uninvited.

“an old friend?” she asks when sola leaves.

he hesitates.

“we used to be something,” he says. “before tokyo. before you.”

“does she still want to be?”

he doesn’t answer.

he doesn’t have to.

that night, y/n lies in bed facing the wall.

he lies behind her, one arm around her waist.

but she feels it.

the space in his breath.

like he’s somewhere else.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

the next morning, she finds a note on the counter.

i need to clear my head. don’t wait up.

just that.

no “love, jk.” no heart. no soft postscript.

just space. again.

she goes to the beach.

sits in the sand for hours, knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the waves like they might answer a question she can’t form.

when she gets home, he’s there.

wet hair. bare feet. eyes rimmed in something raw.

“i saw her,” he says before she can speak.

“i figured.”

“nothing happened. i just… i needed to know i was really over it.”

her throat tightens.

“and are you?”

he doesn’t blink.

“yes. because i came home to you.”

a silence.

and then:

“but i won’t follow you to osaka.”

she stares.

“what?”

“not yet. i need to be here. finish some things. figure out who i am outside of us.”

a long, splintering pause.

then she nods.

“okay.”

and somehow?

that hurts more than if he’d begged her to stay.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

three weeks later, she accepts the job.

she moves into a tiny apartment with rusted pipes and an ocean view.

the first night alone, she cries harder than she has in years.

and the next morning, she builds something new.

because love didn’t die.

it just changed clothes.

it’s been two months.

the calls are less frequent now. the texts — shorter. sometimes unfinished.

miss you.

busy tonight.

you okay?

yeah.

sometimes she scrolls all the way back to the beginning of their message thread. back when he still sent pictures of his dinners and voice notes that ended in soft laughter.

now, she stares at a gray bubble that never turns blue.

and wonders when missing became mistranslation.

the challenge comes in the form of a phone call.

“we’ve had an offer,” hamada says. “someone wants to buy your father’s old patent. the engine redesign. the one that caused all the legal mess.”

her blood runs cold.

“who?”

“a private investor. anonymous. but the offer’s real.”

she swallows hard.

“can i think about it?”

“you have three days.”

when the call ends, she stares at the blueprint in her hands.

the one her father left behind. the one jimin burned bridges for. the one that wrecked everything, including her.

and now… jungkook isn’t here to ask what to do.

she doesn’t call him.

at first, out of pride. then out of habit. then because… maybe he wouldn’t answer.

meanwhile.

jungkook can’t stop staring at the cracked mirror in his bathroom.

he’d meant to fix it weeks ago. meant to replace the bulb that flickers. meant to repaint the ceiling stain that looks like a question mark.

but nothing gets done.

because everything reminds him of her. of how whole things felt when she was brushing her teeth beside him, half-asleep, humming songs under her breath.

he almost texts her five times.

“did you eat today?”

“i saw a car that looked like yours.”

“do you still sleep with your socks on?”

“i hate this city without you.”

but he never presses send.

because if he does, he’s afraid she’ll say what he already knows:

we’re not the same anymore.

he goes to the shop. starts working longer hours. fixes cars like he’s fixing something inside himself.

but every night, it gets quiet again.

and she’s not there to fill it.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

on the second night, she opens the box.

the one with the court papers, the designs, the photographs.

and at the very bottom — a note. scribbled in her father’s handwriting:

"you were always the one who knew where the engine really lived. not in the machine. in the way it made people move."

it wrecks her.

not because it’s beautiful.

but because she can’t remember the last time she let herself feel moved by anything.

she calls jimin.

it takes him three rings to answer.

“hey,” he says, wary.

“i’m not calling to fight.”

“then why are you calling?”

she closes her eyes.

“because i’m scared.”

a pause.

“you’ve never said that before.”

“i know.”

he listens.

and for the first time in years, he doesn’t try to fix it.

just hears her.

“do you still love him?” he asks quietly.

her breath catches.

“i never stopped.”

“then why are you letting it fall apart?”

she whispers, “because we forgot how to hold it.”

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

on the third day, she decides not to sell.

instead, she reworks the blueprint. stays up all night. coffee, grease, tears.

she turns it into something new — something faster, more sustainable, hers.

and when she’s done…

she sends it to jungkook.

no words. just the file.

and a single sentence:

“i want you to build this with me.”

he doesn’t reply that night.

or the next.

but on the third day, a knock on her door.

she opens it.

he’s standing there. soaked from rain. eyes heavy.

a thumb drive in his hand.

“i made some changes,” he says.

she stares at him.

and everything unsaid rushes in like floodwater.

“why didn’t you call?” she whispers.

“i thought you’d moved on.”

“and i thought you stopped trying.”

they look at each other.

and all the space between them… shrinks.

he steps in.

not with a kiss.

but with hands that shake when they touch hers.

“i still don’t know how to do this right,” he says.

“me neither.”

“but i want to try again.”

she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“then let’s stop trying to fix what we were,” she says.

“and start building what we could be.”

it begins softly.

coffee. shared notebooks. mornings with grease on their hands instead of regret.

they’re building something — the engine, yes.

but also something quieter.

something like trust.

he calls it the second try.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

she doesn’t name it. just presses her hand to his chest some nights to feel if his heartbeat still stutters when she’s close.

it does.

they work out of a quiet garage outside osaka.

the air smells like old paint and rain.

he sketches. she rewires. they argue over millimeters and voltage.

and at night, she cooks and he cleans, and they pretend that none of it is fragile.

but it is.

god, it is.

and then it happens.

she gets a call from hamada while she’s at the market.

he doesn’t waste time.

“we got a letter. anonymous. claiming the patent design is still your father’s property. they’re threatening to sue if we launch.”

her blood runs cold.

“do they have proof?”

“only if someone gave it to them.”

her mind spirals.

jimin? no — he’d never. not after everything they lost.

but someone else knew. someone who had access.

and then she realizes: only two people have the updated design.

her.

and jungkook.

she doesn’t accuse him right away.

she just… watches.

his hands. his words. how he avoids her eyes the next morning when she brings up the leak.

he says all the right things.

but his voice has that tightness — the one he gets when he’s not saying something.

she finally asks:

“did you send the file to anyone?”

he stills.

“…i showed it to someone. an old friend from seoul. just for feedback.”

“why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“because i didn’t think it mattered.”

her voice breaks.

“everything matters now.”

he looks at her.

and in that second, she sees it.

the fear. the shame.

the undoing.

“i wanted to help,” he says. “i thought if i could show someone how brilliant you are, maybe they’d back us. maybe you’d get the credit you deserve.”

“so you shared the one thing i asked you to build with me?”

he opens his mouth.

closes it.

“i was scared you’d leave again,” he says finally. “and i needed to know i could still do something that mattered.”

her heart fractures.

not because he hurt her.

but because he still doesn’t see that he already mattered.

she packs a bag that night.

just one. small. not everything. just… enough.

“i’m not leaving for good,” she says.

he nods. but doesn’t look at her.

“i just need to remember who i am without you for a second.”

his voice is a whisper:

“and if you forget what it felt like to be us?”

she blinks. something catches in her throat.

“i won’t.”

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

she drives all night.

ends up at a hotel by the ocean. the same one her parents once took her to before everything fell apart.

she lies in bed. staring at the ceiling.

crying so hard her chest feels like it’s caving in.

and then—

a knock.

soft. hesitant.

when she opens the door, she half-expects to see him.

but it’s a front desk clerk.

“someone left this for you.”

a package.

inside:

a sketch. the engine. with her notes scribbled in his handwriting.

a photograph of them at the garage, grease on their faces, smiling like the world couldn’t touch them.

and a letter.

"you once told me love isn't a thing you protect by hiding. i didn't listen. but i’m listening now. if you never come back, i’ll understand. but if you do... the key’s under the flowerpot. and the lights will be on."

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

she drives home at dawn.

she doesn’t knock.

just opens the door.

he’s asleep on the couch. curled up. small in a way she’s never seen him.

she drops her bag.

sits beside him.

and when he stirs, she whispers, “i didn’t forget.”

his eyes open.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes.

“i know.”

she touches his face.

and this time — when they kiss, it’s not out of fear, or desperation, or need.

it’s a quiet, aching promise:

next time, we don’t break this.

they don’t talk about the letter.

not right away.

she comes back. unpacks her bag like she’s never left. puts her mug back on the shelf next to his.

and he doesn't ask for forgiveness. he just acts like someone who’s already forgiven himself.

which might be the most fragile thing of all.

but she doesn’t break it.

because something about this version of him — gentle, open, trying — reminds her of who she used to be.

not the girl with walls. but the one who built engines like poetry and believed in things like forever.

they work again.

side by side.

a few inches between them at the worktable. sometimes brushing hands. sometimes stealing glances.

there’s laughter again, too. hesitant at first. then easier. like their bodies remembered how to be soft around each other before their minds caught up.

he burns his hand soldering something. she calls him an idiot while blowing gently on his skin.

he laughs through the sting.

“worth it.”

she looks at him.

serious.

“don’t you dare disappear again.”

“not even if i’m scared?”

“especially not then.”

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

the launch is two weeks away.

they’ve been accepted into osaka drivetech expo — a big-name showcase that could change everything.

they work late nights. double-checking torque ratios and simulation outputs.

and one night, after sixteen hours in the garage, she collapses onto the couch, grease on her cheek.

“do you think we’re good enough?” she asks.

he sits next to her.

“you are.”

“i meant us.”

he doesn’t answer right away.

then:

“i think we’ve been broken. but not beyond repair.”

she turns toward him.

“what if we mess it up again?”

he shrugs, soft.

“then we try again. and again. until it sticks.”

the night before the expo, it rains.

not just a drizzle.

a storm.

the garage roof leaks in three places.

half their tools are soaked.

he throws a tarp over the engine. they both stand there in silence, watching everything they’ve built hang by a thread.

she sits down on the floor. defeated.

“maybe we’re cursed.”

he doesn’t laugh.

just kneels in front of her.

“maybe,” he says. “but even if we are… i’d rather be cursed with you than lucky without you.”

she closes her eyes.

lets that hit.

lets herself believe that even if they lose everything again… they won’t lose each other.

they make it to the expo.

barely.

the engine stutters during the first test.

jungkook swears under his breath. she adjusts the calibration in real-time with shaking fingers.

then—

it starts.

smooth.

flawless.

people crowd. ask questions. take photos.

someone from redline technologies pulls them aside.

“we’d like to talk about licensing this.”

her jaw drops.

jungkook just grins at her like she hung the stars.

that night, they don’t go out to celebrate.

they go home.

he pours wine. she puts on music. low, slow, something warm.

they end up on the couch. his head in her lap.

she plays with his hair.

“i still don’t know if we’ll make it forever,” she says.

he blinks up at her.

“me neither.”

a beat.

“but tonight feels close enough.”

and then—

quietly.

tentatively.

he slides his hand up her thigh, resting it there.

she doesn’t move.

just shifts so she’s straddling him, the wine long forgotten.

his hands find her hips.

hers trace the scar on his collarbone.

not out of lust.

out of memory.

out of all the things they lost, and all the things they’re learning to hold again.

“tell me something true,” she whispers against his neck.

he breathes her in.

“i’ve never wanted anyone the way i want you when you’re angry and messy and tired and still show up.”

her eyes sting.

not from sadness.

from the kind of joy that feels like grief in reverse.

she kisses him. slow. deliberate. unhurried.

and when they finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers.

“if we fall—”

“we fall together.”

the offer comes quietly.

a call. 9:42 a.m. from redline technologies.

they want her.

not the engine. not them.

just her.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

a position in tokyo — head of innovation. six figures. full creative freedom. a team of engineers waiting for her sketches.

"we want to invest in you, y/n. not just your design. full relocation. training. long-term."

she says nothing for a beat too long.

“i need time to think.”

when she tells jungkook, he doesn’t react at first.

just nods.

keeps tightening the bolt he was working on.

“and?” he says, voice too neutral.

“i haven’t decided.”

“but you want to.”

it’s not a question.

and that’s what makes it worse.

the next few days hurt more than any argument ever could.

they don’t yell.

they just… fade around each other.

breakfasts eaten at different times.

notes left on counters instead of conversations.

he sleeps on the couch again — not because they fought, but because the bed feels too intimate when the air between them is anything but.

“i didn’t ask for this,” she finally says one night.

he’s sitting on the garage floor, oil on his hands, silence in his eyes.

“i know.”

“then why does it feel like you’re punishing me for being wanted?”

his jaw clenches.

“because for the first time, someone else sees how brilliant you are — and maybe they won’t waste it the way i did.”

her heart cracks.

“you didn’t waste it. we built this.”

“and now you get to leave it behind.”

she steps forward.

“i don’t want to leave you.”

“then why does this feel like goodbye?”

jimin shows up the next morning.

just walks in, sets down two coffees, and says:

“you idiots are both miserable. figure it out.”

they stare at him.

he shrugs.

“you think love is always aligned? it’s not. sometimes it pulls you in two directions. the choice isn’t between each other and success. the choice is whether you take the leap together.”

he leaves.

and they sit in that silence.

each holding something sharp inside them they don’t know how to set down.

that night, she finds jungkook in the garage again.

he’s working on a replica of their prototype — smaller, cleaner, like a gift he hasn’t wrapped yet.

she sits beside him.

he doesn’t look at her.

until she places something on the table:

a copy of the offer. unsigned.

“they want me,” she says quietly. “but i want you.”

his throat works.

“so what are you saying?”

“i want both.”

“what if we can’t have both?”

“then we figure out a new way.”

a pause.

“you could come with me,” she offers.

he shakes his head. not no — just uncertain.

“i don’t belong in tokyo.”

“then i’ll split my time. or we open another garage there. or — i don’t know, jungkook. but i don’t want to do this without you.”

finally, he looks at her.

and everything unsaid rushes in again — but this time, it doesn't shatter them.

it holds.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

the next morning, they send an email to redline together.

she accepts.

but requests a delayed start.

“we’re finishing something first,” she tells them.

because they are.

not just a prototype.

but a version of themselves that doesn’t end when things get hard.

it's quiet when it ends.

no explosions.

no grand declarations.

just the soft click of the garage light being turned off one last time before they leave for tokyo.

they don’t sell the place.

they leave it like a memory — full of oil-stained rags, unfinished sketches, and sunlight that still filters in through the cracked window.

“we’ll come back,” she says.

he nods.

not like a promise. more like a prayer.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

tokyo is loud.

but they find pockets of quiet in it.

a tiny apartment with too-small windows and a too-soft bed.

a late-night diner with the best miso soup she’s ever tasted.

a rooftop that catches the sunrise just right.

he doesn’t work for anyone else.

just her.

fixes up old bikes. starts his own thing in the back alley of a neighborhood that barely notices — until someone hears the hum of the engine he built and starts asking questions.

by spring, he's booked months ahead.

she finds him there sometimes, in a sweat-streaked shirt, playing his music too loud and cursing at rusted bolts.

and when he sees her—

every single time—

he smiles like it’s still the first time.

some days are hard.

she misses the way jimin used to lean on her shoulder without asking. he misses the silence of their osaka nights.

some days she stares at the city lights and wonders if she’s chasing a version of herself that doesn't exist anymore.

some days he feels like a shadow walking beside her brilliance.

and still—

they stay.

not because it's perfect.

but because they chose this.

they are building this.

one night, a year in, he wakes up to find her gone from bed.

he panics. stumbles into the kitchen, heart pounding.

she’s there.

barefoot, in one of his shirts, eating ice cream out of the tub, staring out the window like the city might give her a sign.

“bad dream?” he asks.

she nods.

then: “what if it all falls apart again?”

he exhales.

walks to her.

presses his forehead against hers.

“then we build it again.”

a beat.

“and again,” she whispers.

and again.

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

they never marry.

not because they don’t believe in it.

but because they don’t need the paper to mean “i choose you.”

instead, they build things.

engines. safe spaces. a life so messy and stitched-together that no one else could survive in it but them.

and somehow — that’s enough.

the story ends not with goodbye, but with a late drive through tokyo.

the windows down. the streets humming. her feet on the dash, his hand on her thigh.

music low.

a silence between them that feels like trust.

like everything they couldn’t say and everything they don’t need to anymore.

she turns to him.

smiles.

“you still glad you stayed?”

he doesn’t even look away from the road.

just squeezes her hand.

and says, “always.”

⋆.˚ ────୨ৎ──── ⋆.˚

authors note. thank you so much for taking time to read this one shot! luv u guys all!! :3

[aaclariww]

d o i w a n n a k n o w

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader

g e n r e : stalker-yandere au.

t a g s : obsessive!jk, stalking, yandere, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con to dub-con (oc gives in but these are heavy non-con/dub-con elements), fingering, spanking, degradation, dirty talk (lots lmao), talks of baby-trapping, BREEDING KINK, unprotected sex, masturbation, hidden cameras, voyeurism, slut shaming(?), pussy spanking (doesn’t happen as much like you think it does lmao), blow jobs, head-pusher!jk, talks of imprisonment, actual imprisonment, there’s a cage for .2 seconds, dark!seven au, jk has lots of pet names, JK IS A SEX ADDICT AND WALKING RED FLAG, stockholm syndrome(?) debatable but tagging to be safe, morally grey!oc, oc is a anxiety ball, mentions of hoseok, oc has horny guilt LMAO, implied pregnancy, jk is CRAZY, size differences, jk corners oc a lot, face fucking, cum swallowing, lmk if i missed a tag!!

w o r d c o u n t : 19.8 k

s u m m a r y : “Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for someone new. Now I’ve thought it through, crawlin’ back to you,”

How long has it been? Weeks? Days? Months. You weren’t keeping count anymore—haven’t been ever since that happened. You make your way through the busy crowd, headphones plugged in and some depressing song from your playlist ringing softly through both ears. It’s cloudy and breezy—a gloomy sight—you think there’s a chance for rain later on. 

“Excuse me.” You mumble under your breath and push past everyone, bumping occasionally into someone.

Every so often an uneasy feeling creeps up your spine, like you’re being watched or something. He’s here, a sinister little voice says in the deepest crevices of your mind. Your breathing picks up and you turn your head, vision hazy from how fast you’re walking to keep up with the traffic flow. 

Blurry—just faceless people going about their day and trying to get to their destinations. 

You slow down a tiny bit, your earbud hanging out of one ear as you take one good look around your surroundings. Nothing, just stores and faceless people combined with the sounds of beeping cars and engines that become background noise. You find yourself staring ahead of yourself, a grim expression and your lips pursed. 

“I’m losing it..” You whisper. 

You turn back around when you hear it. “y/n.” Your body goes stiff, his voice alone sends you into an anxiety-ridden frenzy.

Your breathing picks up and your feet start moving faster and faster. You keep looking back in all sorts of directions trying to pinpoint his exact location. The entire world feels like a blur, there’s so many voices all around you start wondering if they’re all him. It’s a nightmare-ish hell not knowing which one of them is him—or rather could be him.

 

“...Jungkook.” You quietly whisper. 

Slowly, the world comes to a halt once more—everything falls back into place—you flinch as droplets of water hit your face. The sounds of traffic bring you out of your trance and suddenly you feel like you have room to breathe again. You settle one hand over your chest and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“y/n.” A startled scream slips past your lips as you shudder violently and spin around. Jungkook’s arms constrict your movements with the way he wraps himself around you.

“Jungkook–let me go..!” You curl into yourself and try to move away, no one bats an eye as you two stand in the middle of the crosswalk in the midst of the crowd. Your smaller hands grip his forearms weakly as you desperately try to shove him off, “What are you doing, let me go.” You repeat, a bit more forceful this time. 

Jungkook only grins down at you and tugs you closer, “C’mon baby don’t be like that. How long’s it been? Weeks? Months? I know that you miss me deep down as much as I miss you.” He whispers down in your ear in that low husky tone he always spoke in whenever you two were pressed up like this. “Don’t be so cruel sweetheart and give me a kiss.” He dips his head down but you move at the last second causing his lips to drag along your cheek. 

You level him with a stare, “I don’t miss you at all, in fact I haven’t thought about you for months now,” you push against him with a grunt of frustration because he doesn’t budge, “My answer was no the last time and it’s no this time, what can’t you understand?”

“Because I know you’re lying to yourself. You say this but when I ask you to look me in the eye, you can’t baby.” Jungkook turns to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek once more, “I know you still want me—us.” He pulls back to look deep in your eyes, forehead against forehead.

Your eyes drop down to his lips and a sense of familiarity washes over you. You recall the times he had his lips on yours, from how soft his kisses could be to the way he kissed you with such passion/force like his life depended on it. Your eyes slowly find his own and for a second you forget you’re both in the middle of a cross walk in the sprinkling rain. 

“Don’t think baby,” Jungkook whispers as he leans down, “just feel.” 

A loud honk suddenly shatters the illusion, you flinch from the loud noise and yank yourself back. You hear Jungkook curse under his breath, “Don’t follow me, I mean it Jungkook.” Your voice is wobbly but you do your best to sound firm. 

You quickly turn on your heels and surf through the crowds of people, ignoring their pointed looks from your shoving. The metro is twice as crowded (more than usual), you easily blend in with everyone else on the platform. Occasionally you look over your shoulder to see if he followed but you see nothing. 

The familiar sound of a piano begins playing in your ear, you slip your other earbud back in and lean against the pillar as you wait for the train to make its stop. 

“I put a spell on you, 

because you’re mine,

You better stop the things you do, 

I tell you, I ain’t lying, 

I ain’t lying,” 

The train comes to a screeching halt and you push yourself off the wall, heading for the opened doors. You tuck yourself near the corner of the train in front of these old grandmas and group of highschool teens. You hold on to the pole in front of you and let out a breath of relief, heart coming to a slow and calm beat. 

You always get like this after seeing Jungkook, he works you up into a frenzy and when you run off you’re left with a stupid adrenaline high that takes what seems like forever to come down from. You’re always left with an ugly feeling in your stomach, dread clouding your senses and an immense amount of guilt. One of these days you feel like you’ll give in all over again. 

Jungkook just makes it so difficult.

At first it didn’t bother you fresh out of the breakup, you had been clouded with anger and frustration the first weeks. Then when weeks turned to months of him trying to get you back you started falling into denial. 

Was the breakup something you wanted? Why did you seem to enjoy the way he begged for you? No matter how hard you tried to push those thoughts away a ugly little voice in your head was always there to remind you. 

‘Admit it, you want to let him in.’ It’d say. You do, but no one has to know that’s how you really feel. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder nearly making you jump out of your skin as you turn to look at them. Some girl stands with an apologetic look on her face, “Sorry, I’m just trying to pass through.” 

You shake your head and step aside, “No, excuse me.” You mumble out and look up at the window, finding a reflection of yourself staring right back. 

The loud screeching noises of the train coming to another stop has you casually looking to the side. The doors open and more people get on, some exit and others like you stay put. However, right as the doors close that's when you see him.. Your heart picks up again and you stare directly back at Jungkook who’s standing there with a devious look on his face. 

“No, no, no,” you turn around and look for a way out, the next stop isn’t for another five minutes and you’re running out of space to get away so running off isn’t the best option you have right now. 

You start backing away, slipping through the crowd and whipping your head back and forth in time to see Jungkook advancing towards you with a predatory look in his eye. He’s zeroing in on you making his way through the people blocking his way. Your breath hitches as your back finally hits the wall, there’s nowhere else to run anymore, and Jungkook knows this too. 

“Running from me again?” He chuckles as he cages you in between him and the wall. He sets his hands on either side of you, effectively trapping you in. Your eyes dart around but no one seems to be paying attention, it’s times like these you wished people weren’t actually minding their own business. 

“I know you miss me,” his breath is hot against your ear, it sends chills down your spine and has you shuddering in a pleasant way, “I know you want me..” He drops one hand down to your hip, gently caressing over it with his thumb, “Can’t you feel how much I miss you?” He breathes out and presses right up against you. 

Your face grows hot in arousal, you can feel the print of his hard cock right up against your thigh pressing dangerously close. You bite back a low whimper and look up at Jungkook, “I-I,” 

He gently shushes you, “Remember what I said baby: don’t think, feel.” He slides his lips against yours. 

The kiss re-awakens the once hidden desire you had stored away in the darkest corners of your mind. Your eyes flutter shut and you tangle one hand in his hair, the other curls around his neck and holds him down against you. Jungkook seems to like that a lot because he lets out a muffled moan in your mouth, the hand he had on your waist now moving down behind to your ass. 

You can hear the train coming to a stop and your eyes open as you take the opportunity to look over his shoulder. People are gathering their things and standing from their seats, you know this isn’t your stop but hell, you’d rather walk the extra three blocks to get to work than be stuck on the train with Jungkook. 

“Baby,” he mumbles against your lip and desperately paws at your jeans. 

The second he pulls off your lips you duck under his arm, he turns to swiftly grab your arm and try to reel you back in. He misses you by a few centimeters. 

“Goodbye Jungkook.” You whisper and disappear in the crowd of people leaving him there by himself with the same hunger in his eyes he had earlier. 

When you step out onto the platform you slip your headphones back in trying to calm your racing heart once again, the song playing becoming an eerie reminder. 

 “Do I wanna know?

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sort of hoping that you'd stay

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day,” 

+

Jungkook and you once had been happy together, you weren’t going to deny that. 

You had met through one of the rare nights you went out with friends for drinks and food. Your closest friend, Seulgi, had been the one to introduce you two, she thought he’d be perfect for you. Seulgi had NOT been joking around when she said you’d like Jungkook.

 

You both talked the entire night finding each other much more interesting than the alcohol that sat untouched. He had you hooked with his precious little bunny smile and playful nature, sure he had been touchy but who said you weren’t a little touch-starved yourself? You found yourself craving more of him, leaning into his touch and giving into his cute antics. 

The night ended with Jungkook asking for your number and promising you a private date later in the week. Dating Jungkook was a different story however. 

Jungkook was..different. You weren’t exactly used to the princess treatment and sudden obsession over you when you both began dating, you liked to think you didn’t like it but sometimes you weren’t so sure if you were saying that to convince yourself. Jungkook didn’t seem to have a single care for the world if it wasn’t about you. He was possessive, obsessive, jealous—everything that you should have looked out for according to the damn book. 

Yet you didn’t, you stayed by his side like a moth drawn to the flame. Jungkook had single-handedly managed to become your entire world, poisoning your mind with his sweet words and passionate kisses. He made you forget about everything, until there was nothing but him left.. 

Jungkook had come clean about his sex addiction even before you two started getting serious. You sat in silence when he opened up about his struggles and how it impacted his life. In a way you felt sorry for him, it was clear he didn’t ask to be going through this. Oh how you were a fool.. 

Jungkook stopped completely going to his sessions once you two made it official, at first you were worried but Jungkook always reassured you that it was fine. You let it slide for the first couple of months because you were stuck in the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Jungkook, too blinded to really see the problems brewing. 

His addiction became an inconvenience and disturbance in your lives. He went from fucking you at least two times a day to full blown whenever he could get his hands on you. It started off tame until he resorted to fucking you in places where you two could surely be caught. He’d bend to whisper darkly in your ear before whisking you away to some place “private”, where he proceeded to fuck the living daylights out of you.

You could never really resist his charms and begging whenever he wanted to fuck you. A sick part of you loved this—how he would pick you up like nothing and manhandle you to his liking, how he’d take what was his and worship the very ground you walked on. It gave you a sick thrill knowing you had him around your finger, but all good things have to come to an end don’t they? 

You come to the realization through Seulgi. “That’s not a relationship y/n,” she said, “it’s unhealthy for you and him to go on like this, this is more like an exclusive friends-with-benefits.” 

After hearing that you questioned everything in your relationship with Jungkook. So you did what you thought was the best in this situation: you left. 

You had felt horrible but what else could you have done? Jungkook wasn’t proving to you that he was going to try to get help again, and if he said he was going to he’d simply go for one or two meetings and then go back to that vicious cycle—and you were tired of it (physically and mentally).

Oh how you’d come to regret it.

“Hey y/n, I think there’s someone here to see you? I don’t know he didn’t tell me who he was but uh he told me to tell you he’s waiting for you down in the lobby.” One of your co-workers said as soon as you walked into the office. 

You gave her a quizzical look but she merely shrugged and went back to work. Trying to think of who it could be, you check your phone to see if anyone you knew texted you over coming to visit. It couldn’t have been Seulgi, she always called you ten minutes beforehand to let you know she was on her way. You don’t live close to family like that so they were out of the question. 

“Oh.” Realization dawns on you, “Jungkook.” You whisper and hurriedly run to the elevators, hitting the first floor button a bit too rough. “What does he want now?” First the train station, now your job? Were you safe ANYWHERE? 

The elevator dinged and you stepped out, looking around for the tall curly headed fuck who decided to yet again come bother you. You spotted him sitting there with a grin on his face as he stared at you from afar. With clenched fists you walk over, “We’ll talk outside.” You say through gritted teeth. 

Jungkook lets a low whistle slip from his lips, “Whatever you say.” He follows after you with a lazy strut, his eyes practically glued to your ass. You don’t even have to look to know. 

“What do you want now Jungkook?” You say without turning to look at him, you stand in front of a food truck cafe(?) just a little ways down the street. “I thought I made it clear the last time we spoke about us.” You smile briefly at the food truck employee and place an order in for the two of you. 

“Damn baby you’re so cold, not even a how are you Jungkook? Have you been eating okay or anything?” Jungkook chuckles, “When did you become so mean?” 

You side-eye him in disbelief, “Me, mean? When I’m literally the one being followed and stalked by you everyday since we broke up?” You say softly as you take both drinks and hold one out to him. 

Jungkook takes an annoyingly loud sip from his drink, grinning from ear to ear when he sees your annoyed expression, “I don’t see it as stalking, in fact I’m the one running around chasing after you just trying to get back together. You’re the one whose got it fucked in the head if you think I’m stalking you, unless you’re into that shit baby. I know you were into some weird shit but this?” He snorts.  

You don’t reply because you don’t trust your voice, or anything you have to say as a matter of fact. “Right.” He gives you a shit-eating grin while leaning against the food truck, “Admit it baby, you like it, I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this? You like the chase?” He steps closer. 

The silence feels so loud between you two afterwards, you can’t look him in the eye right now. “Look,” you sigh softly, “I have to go.” You shake your head and give him one last look before you turn and head back to your job. 

He doesn’t follow this time. 

. . . 

“Secrets I have held in my heart,

Are harder to hide than I thought,

Maybe I just wanna be yours,

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours,”

Jungkook sang under his breath while he sorted out a few wires, “Wanna be yours,” he trails off and lifts up the object he’s holding in his hand, “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust,” he whistles and walks towards the large glass window pane, “wanna be yourssss,” he ends with a soft little whistle note as he gets up on the small ladder he has with him. 

“That should do it.” Jungkook hums to himself, admiring his own handiwork. Jungkook takes a step back and looks around the room with a satisfied hum, when he deems everything fit he heads out, making sure not a single thing is displaced. “I just wanna be yours, wanna be yours…” 

A small green check mark lights up his phone, a robotic voice following shortly after, “Welcome, your new security camera system is now: activated.”

+

“So you haven’t gone out or anything with anyone? I mean I kinda figured since it’s been like a few months since all that happened.” Seulgi off-handedly says while stirring her drink around with her straw, “C’monnnn you haven’t thought about it at least once?” She pouts. 

You shake your head fondly, “No not really. I kinda don’t have time to think about stuff like that, got a big project coming up and you know how that gets..” You sheepishly reply with a shoulder shrug. 

Seulgi gives you a ‘I know you’re lying’ look, “Sureeeee, I can count this many times on my fingers the amount of guys that have either checked you out or tried to ask you on a date.” She wiggles her fingers, “Is it cause of Jungkook? Cause if it is girl forget him! You’re single now, you need to go out and live a little.” 

You take a nervous sip from your drink and shake your head, “Look I don’t even know if I made the right choice in leaving him! We weren’t that unhappy, it was just his stupid sex addiction that was tiring me out! I could have just made him get some help and we would have been good,” you pout petulantly, “ ‘s just that sometimes I think I made the wrong choice.” 

“Babe, I love you and all but you need to be a little stronger than that. Jungkook is the same guy who beat up another because he hit on you, we’re talking about the same Jungkook who had a unhealthy codependency with you and was pretty fucking obsessive. I’d say you dodged a fucking tank.” Seulgi scoffs, “Besides, he would have just gone and did the shit he was doing whenever you tried sending him back to therapy.” 

You hated that she was right about everything. Maybe it was high time to see other people and try to get out there. Deep down the very thought of meeting someone who isn’t Jungkook didn’t settle right with you. As much as you loathed the idea you knew you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “I don’t know..” You push your empty glass to the side. 

“Hey,” Seulgi smiles sweetly and sets her hand over yours, “just think about it yeah? You don’t have to meet someone new, we can have fun in other ways like a girls trip or something!” Yeah a girls trip sounded nice.. “It’s getting late but give it some thought.”

You both pay for the tab and head out of the bar all giggles and smiles. “I’ll see you next week, yeah? Lunch is on me!” Seulgi waves after parting ways with you, “Text me when you get home!” She blows you a kiss. 

You pretend to catch the kiss with a quiet chuckle, “Bye.” You wave back, “Get home safe..” You mumble softly and turn to head in the opposite direction. 

It’s pretty late but you’re not too concerned given that people tended to stay out and live the night life in the city. You take one look at the night sky before plugging in your headphones, “She said goodbye, too many times before,” you mumble under your breath and lose yourself within the crowd of bustling people, unknowing of the hooded figure headed in the opposite direction. 

. . .

Jungkook had his hands placed all over your body. He sported a soft grin on his face, his onyx eyes watching in glee as little moans left your lips. “There you go,” he said, “let go for me baby.” He whispers darkly and leans down to slot his lips against yours. 

You lean into the kiss and whine softly, Jungkook doesn’t stop there as he brings your hips up in a bruising grip, pressing down and letting his hard cock rub against you. Your mouth waters a tiny bit just thinking about how he’d fuck you silly with that fat cock of his. It had you mewling for him, pawing at his sweats as you tried to get his cock out. 

“Ah-ah,” he stops you breathlessly, “not until I say so baby.” He stares down at you with a glint in his eyes, “Let me take care of you, I’ll fuck so you good you forget all about today baby, just say the word.” He says as he presses his forehead to yours, “Go on, say it.” He whispers. 

You jolt when his fingers slip between your sopping folds, rubbing up against your swollen and tender clit. “J..ungkook..” Your eyes shut in pleasure, “Please,” you grind against his hand, basically humping it at this point, “Fuck me, please, need it so bad.” You whimper. 

Jungkook chuckles, “Good girl.” He leans down to bury his face in your neck, “Good fucking girl.” 

Your eyes snap open and you jolt upwards in bed. You try to control your labored breathing with a hand over your wildly beating heart. “What the..” You look around your room, not a single thing misplaced. You figured it was another one of those nights—another “dream”. 

“What is wrong with me..” You whisper out and bury your face in your hands, blinking away your disoriented gaze. You sit in bed like that for a few minutes calming your racing heartbeat and the throbbing you feel between your thighs. 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a wet dream like this, it’s been a normal occurrence for weeks now. You’d go to bed then wake up soaked in sweat (and other places you don’t mention) and then go back to sleep hot and bothered. It was on repeat at this point. 

Your tired eyes shifted over to the alarm clock sitting by your bedside, “Two am..” You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head, “God what is happening to me..” You mumble and lay flat on your back. 

You stare at the ceiling for a few minutes just collecting your thoughts and trying to get a grip on yourself. “What is that?” You mumble in confusion and squint your eyes when you see a small red dot blinking back at you. “I must be going crazy.” You shake your head and turn on your side. 

The red dot blinks the entire night, sitting so innocently up high.

+

“You’re single now, you need to go out and live a little.” It rings in your head the entire morning. 

Even as you sit there in your private office you swear you can hear Seulgi’s words loud and clear in your ears. It’s really starting to bother you now, you’re half tempted to take your lunch early and nap or something. 

After waking up from the wet dream you had tossed and turned in bed for a good hour because Seulgi kept coming up. You swear you feel like you’re going crazy, this was just as bad as getting an annoying song stuck in your head. If not even worse. 

“Hey y/n,” Hoseok peeks in, “got a minute?” 

You lift your head up with a tired smile, “Sure, sit down.” You gesture to the chair, “Did you need something?” 

“Well kinda..? I don’t know if that’s the proper wording but yeah, but first here,” he sets a perfectly glazed cream donut on your desk, “Soojin brought some in and I figured you could use one.” He sits down across from you, “How are you?” 

You look down at the delicious looking donut sitting on the paper plate, “I’ve been..okay. Not the best but you know how it is with these big projects,” you accept the donut, “what about you? How’s the presentation coming along?.”

Hoseok shrugs, “It’s going okay, can’t say I’m too enthusiastic about it but it’s whatever. Anyways, that’s not what I came for,” he sheepishly smiles, “I was wondering if you were free tonight?” 

You stare back at him in awe, “Tonight? Oh, well,” your mind drifts off to the same words from last night, “I’m free..” You mumble while playing with your desk plants, “So…tonight?”

“Yeah..sure,” he sags in relief, “so..see you tonight?” He smiles. 

“Tonight.” You nod smiling back at him. You’re not so sure if your own smile mirrors his enthusiasm, but you tell yourself not to think that way. He says a quick bye and runs out of your office, leaving you a tiny bit doubtful. “Damn you Seulgi..” You mutter under your breath. 

When he’s for sure gone you take your phone out and begin dialing Seulgi knowing the girl is on her break by now. It rings forever and ever until it sends you to voicemail. “That’s funny..” You mumble, usually Seulgi never misses a call, and if she does she texts you during the call letting you know if she was able to talk or not. You check your messages and see nothing. 

“Hmm,” you call one more time but this time the call immediately declines. She must be busy, you think as you send her a quick text. ‘Call me ASAP, I just got asked out by that one guy I told you about.’ 

After hitting send you think nothing of it and turn your attention back to your monitor, blissfully unaware. 

. . .

The phone finally stops buzzing and Jungkook releases a sigh of relief as he shakes his head, “So fucking annoying.” He mutters while setting the device down on the counter. 

He sees it light up with Instagram notifications but he can’t be too bothered with those at the moment. He stares out the window with the coffee mug brought up to his lips, it’s a beautiful day out today..reminds him so much of you.. 

“Flowers would be nice..” He hums, “Maybe some chocolates.”

The phone pings loudly once again—a few times at that—and this time Jungkook can’t ignore the stupid phone and peers over to look at the screen. He nearly doubles over when he sees your name on the screen, “Shit.” He hisses when a bit of coffee spills on him.

When Jungkook cleans up the mess on himself he turns the phone back on, his eyes scan over the message, almost manic and anxious. But just as quick as his smile came it was gone..it was replaced with an unbridled rage. His grip on the phone tightened until he suddenly flung it violently into the wall, hearing the screen shatter and clank to the ground loudly. He was trembling with rage.

“So it’s gonna be like that..? Just gonna..throw me away?” He mutters darkly while staring blankly at the wall, “Cute.”

+

“Gave you all the money, gave you all my heart, your masquerade party, I was fucking drunk,”

You hum while taking a sip from your glass of wine, mindful of the baby pink robe you had on. It had been about a good hour with you just sitting there in front of your vanity listening to music and drinking wine. Seulgi still hadn’t gotten back to you—let alone open the messages you left her—you were getting worried now, half-tempted to call her again. You decide against it though because Hoseok messages you about the restaurant.

“Ugh…where are you,” you mutter quietly while tapping on Seulgi’s profile in hopes of her being active on Instagram, “could really use your help..” You shake your head. 

You give up after seeing that she hasn’t been active at all, in fact the last time she was active was literally yesterday when you both split up after the bar. You wonder if work was kicking her ass too. “Whatever.” You send her a picture of you curled up in your chair throwing up a peace sign, ‘wish me luck xoxo’. With that you finish getting ready. 

You don’t realize how much fun you’re having until you go for another sip of wine and then realize you completely drained both the glass and bottle. A soft pout forms on your lips as you drop your eyeliner over the surface, “Well that sucks.” You softly sigh as you stare at nothing (you must be tipsy given that you spaced out like three times before this). “Ugh.” You groan and push yourself off the chair. 

“Stupid robe,” you shove the silky garment off, letting it pool at your feet as you stand bare in your lace panties/bra. 

In your drunken haze you spot the same red blinking dot from the other night but this time it’s by your bookcase. You stop for a few seconds and stare at it before rolling your eyes, “That’s it, I’m literally going insane.” You throw on your pretty little silk dress which falls off your shoulders and manage to find both Prada loafers you were looking for all day since you got home.

You pose in the mirror for a few seconds before huffing and going to get your phone, “Seulgiiiii,” you whine into the phone, “it’s not funny anymore answer meee, I need you to tell me if I look good or not.” You lift your phone up to show your entire outfit to the camera, “Stop being a bitch,” you hiccup drunkenly, “okay gotta go, love you.” You mumble and stop recording. 

With your look being done you gather your coat and purse. As you wait for the elevator doors to open you feel your phone buzz and out of curiosity you fish it out of your purse and turn it on to check it. “Finally,” you sigh in relief when you see who sent you a message, ‘looks great mama, where you guys heading?’ 

“Mama?” You snort but bite your lip in excitement and start typing back.. 

+

The place Hoseok chose happens to be the same restaurant Jungkook took you to when you finally broke up with him. You stand outside with pursed lips. This place was bringing back memories—ones you worked so hard to repress and store away for good—and now you were forced to come back to the only place you swore to never step foot in again. It wasn’t like it was Hoseok’s fault, how could he have known? 

“Hey,” you say once Hoseok picks up the call, “no yeah I’m here, I’m outside.” You cover your ear with your other hand and walk around a bit to avoid the crowds of people walking by.

“I’m like less than five minutes away, traffics really fucking bad tonight,” Hoseok chuckles on the other line, “You should just go in, I made a reservation under my name already, that way you aren’t standing outside or anything since the weather’s bipolar as hell.” 

You chuckle softly, “Okay, I’ll head inside and wait for you then,” you turn to walk back when you suddenly freeze up, body going eerily still. 

“y/n? You still there?”

You stand there in sheer terror when you see who’s sitting there leaned back on top of the hood of his car. Jungkook’s eyes are already on you as he watches from afar with a soft smirk on his face. You notice that he has a large bouquet of flowers sitting in his other hand. “Y-Yeah I’m here,” you whisper, “I just dropped my purse I gotta go I’ll see you when you get here.” You hang up in a hurry and start walking faster. 

“Hi baby.” Jungkook licks his lips when you’re face to face, “Don’t you look darling? What’s the special occasion?” You hate it when he looks at you like that, like he’s ready to flip your dress up and fuck the living shit out of you in front of all these people. “What’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue.” He pushes himself off his car and comes to stand right in front of you. 

You look Jungkook up and down, god he looks so good right now in his white and black striped shirt jean combo. His hair's messier than usual too, you just wanna grip it tight like you used to whenever he had his face buried between your thighs— “Baby?” He grins in amusement. 

“What are you doing here?” You swallow nervously while your eyes dart back and forth. You don’t even fight it when Jungkook’s hand comes to rest on your hip his thumb rubbing over it gently

“Ain’t it obvious?” He chuckles, “Came for my baby.” 

You don’t bother to ask him how he found out about you coming here, you see Hoseok’s car pull into the valet a mere few feet away from you guys. That certainly has your breathing picking up, “You need to go,” you push at his chest, “right now Jungkook, please.” You whisper out in absolute fear. 

“Why?” Jungkook’s smile drops as he stares at you with a cold look. His eyes follow yours and he stares darkly at Hoseok, “Oh I see now baby, scared your new boyfriend is gonna find out?” 

“Stay away,” you wheeze as you try to control your breathing while stepping back, “I swear if you ruin it I’m going to hate you forever.” You point a finger at him while rushing into the restaurant. 

As your breathing evens out you jump in terror when someone’s hands come up to rest on your shoulders. “y/n! Oh shit, my bad I didn’t mean to scare you.” It’s just Hoseok.. 

“No it’s my fault I wasn’t looking.” You whisper with a hand over your chest, “I didn’t go because I saw you pull up and wanted to wait for you.” You finish lamely. 

Hoseok can see how nervous you are right now, he looks at you like he isn’t so convinced but he doesn’t push it luckily, “Okay, let’s go.” He smiles and offers his arm to you. 

As you both stand in front of the hostess you can’t help but turn back to look outside. Jungkook’s still there where you left him, staring at you and Hoseok with that knowing look in his eye. You’ve seen it before too, and it sends a tremor down your spine while Hoseok leads you away. You sincerely hope he doesn’t do what you think he’s gonna do..you don’t know if you’ll die then and there. 

“I hope you don’t mind I chose this place, heard it’s really good here.” Hoseok pulls the chair out for you, “In case you’re disappointed or something, not that I’m implying that it just seems like you’re kinda lost here.” He says with a sheepish smile while taking his seat across from you. 

You quickly shake your head, “No, no it’s fine. I’m just a little scared from earlier is all,” you take a large gulp of water, “You know how it is with anxiety and all that jazz.” You try to brighten the mood with a smile. Hoseok luckily lets it go rather quickly and you both fall into a comfortable conversation while the bustling restaurant behind you becomes (a rather comforting) background noise. 

You quickly come to realize Hoseok’s rather pleasant to talk to. He’s the textbook definition of a gentleman with you, he makes sure to listen attentively to you and isn’t afraid to show you how invested he is in your business. You like the attention he’s giving you given that it’s been a cool minute since anyone had truly sat down to just listen to what you had to say etc. You like talking to him, a lot more than you find yourself willing to admit out loud. 

You even forget about Jungkook. 

“How’s the food?” He asks with a grin. 

“Mmm,” you nod while wiping your lips with a napkin, “delicious, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place where they actually made my steak the way I asked for.” You giggle shyly while hiding your smile behind your hand, “What about you?” 

Hoseok shrugs, “It’s alright I guess,” this makes you burst out laughing, “what..?” He chuckles, “I’m being honest! Here, try some of mine you’ll see what I mean.” He holds his fork out to you and clearly you don’t expect him to feed you but at this point you don’t care you’re having too much fun right now. 

“I like that you offered me literally what I’m already having, just slightly more medium-rare.” You snort, “You’re so funny you know that?” You lean your head against your hand with a fond smile. 

“I’ve been told.” Hoseok gives you a closed-eye smile, “I think you’re funny too y/n, this might be one of my most favorite nights ever.” He slowly slides his hand over your own, just letting it sit there but you can tell he wants to hold yours. 

You find eye contact too intense and avert your gaze down to your intertwined hands. It feels so right..but so wrong for some reason. The same ugly voice starts whispering things in your head, ‘He’s not Jungkook, I bet Jungkook can fuck us ten times better than this guy.’ You bite down on your lip to suppress your annoyance, you have to find a way out of this—and quick. 

The interruption comes in a rather unorthodox manner as the chandelier suddenly comes plunging down right next to you guys. You jump in terror and pull back, “Oh my god–” You quickly stand up to avoid any debris. Hoseok jumps out of his seat too, rounding the table to crowd you as he asks you various questions like: “Are you okay?” or “What the hell just happened?” 

Through all the commotion you see Jungkook at the bar, propped up against the mahogany wood with a toothpick in his mouth and a sinister look. You feel another wave of anxiety take over slowly as your hands become clammy and your balance a bit unstable. “I’m g-going to the restroom.” You tell Hoseok and rush away, not bothering to stop and hear whatever he has to say. 

At the same time you see Jungkook push himself off the bar and start making his way over. “No, no, no.” You mumble and pick up the pace, rushing down the empty hall and towards the women’s restroom. You should be safe in there right?

The bathroom is dimly lit by the cheap fluorescent lighting, you push through and make your way into the last stall and lock yourself in there. Your breathing is labored and comes out uneven, or at least you think it’s uneven. You don’t know and you’re not exactly worried about that right now. 

With an exhausted sigh you slump against the wall and let your head thud against the tile gently, “God this is a mess..” You mumble and hide your face in the palm of your hands. You sit in silence, the small buzzing sounds that the lights make keep you from wallowing in your misery as you slowly start coming to your senses. 

You’re hyper aware of everything going on around you right now—the sounds of the water drops from the faucet, murmurs of staff outside, the lights—everything. You perk up when you hear the low creak the door makes as it’s pushed open. It hits the door frame with a dull thud—creaking even. You don’t give it too much thought until you hear it. 

You sit straight and push yourself as far as you in the corner, trembling as the sounds of his expensive oxfords click against the tiled ground. Jungkook whistles a low tune, pushing the very first stall door open. When he finds nothing he goes to the next, then the next, and then the next. You put a hand over your mouth, watching as his shoes slowly come into view as he makes his stop right next to your stall. 

When he finally comes to a halt in front of your stall he stands there calmly, whistling even more now as he patiently stands there. You stare at his shoes in horror and peek through the small crack in the door, he stands there with an intimidating yet scary smile. The whistling really sends your nerves into overdrive as you shakily reach for the latch. 

With a click it unlocks, you wait with a bated breath and then slowly push it open. Jungkook slowly comes into view, he stares at you silently just taking you in with his dark eyes. You stare right back with your lips parted in a silent plea. For him? You don’t know what you want from him right now, but lucky for you, you don’t have to do too much thinking. 

Jungkook grabs your face in his big hands, shoving you into the stall again as he kicks the door closed with a loud bang. His lips are on yours in seconds as he pushes you up against the tiled walls, huffing quietly against your lips as his hands come up to tug you close, body against body. You whimper in defeat and finally give into that stupid voice that plagues you in your nightmares. 

You bury your hands in his hair and move your lips against his own just as passionately. He hums in approval and snakes his hand under your thigh to grip it, you take it as a sign to wrap it around his waist. With this position your throbbing little cunt is pressed right over his hips, closer than most times he’s cornered you. 

“Mm..ah..Jungkook,” you whisper in between the harsh kisses, “wait–mm,” his lips sloppily claim yours kiss after kiss until saliva begins dripping down the corners of your chin. You arch your back and push your hips into his rather demandingly, “Jungkook, please.” You mewl softly while moving in slow circles against him. 

“Please what baby? After you tried to give away what’s mine to that little priss outside? You think you really deserve it baby?” He growls, “You’re fuckin’ mine,” he presses you harder against the wall, “letting that motherfucker put his hands all over you…after you’ve been so mean to me and run off everytime you see me? Gonna make me beg for it sweetheart is that it? You want me to beg for that little pussy?” He cups your cunt through your panties, pressing the palm of his hand firmly against you. “Hm?” 

You cry out quietly and shake your head, “No–I wasn’t gonna,” you throw your head back with gritted teeth. He interrupts you with a sharp smack against your cunt, one that has you keening in humiliation and arousal, “Jungkook..!”

“Wasn’t gonna what, hm? Were you planning on giving him this slutty little pussy after all? Were you going to lie to me sweetheart, is that it?” He growls low in your ear, “You can fuck him all you want baby,” he whispers as his fingers dip into your soaked panties, “but you know deep down no one is the same as me, no one knows your slutty little cunt better than I do baby.” 

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he sinks two thick fingers into your poor throbbing pussy. There’s a sloppy squelching noise that resonates between you two as he fucks his fingers deep inside. You let out shuddery breaths and cling to his shoulders, pawing at him desperately as you tighten your leg that hangs uselessly around his waist. 

“Hear that baby? Bet he wouldn’t be able to get that little pussy talkin’, wouldn’t know how you like it fast and hard you filthy slut.” He leaves marks over your neck and shoulder, uncaring that your “date” was still sitting outside waiting for you to come back. 

He pounds his fingers knuckle deep, brushing them up against that spot that drives you crazy. Your moans spill from your mouth uncontrollably, they go from breathy and high-pitched to loud and clear. If anyone were to walk in it’s over, for fucks sake the door isn’t even closed! 

“J-Jungkook..” Your eyes slip shut and you whimper, “More,” you gasp out and tug him closer. You turn your face and slide your lips against his mouth in a slew of messy kisses and kitten licks, “Please..” 

“More?” The palm of his hand smacks against your sopping folds from the force of his movements, driving his fingers in deeper (as much as it allows him to be honest). He pistons them in and out of you quickly, so fast your pussy tightens around the thick digits greedily, your orgasm building in your core steadily from the hot pleasure. “Like this? Or like this?” He purrs as he brushes against your g-spot teasingly. 

“Like that..!” You throw your head back and moan, “Oh god…” You whisper, eyes clouded in tears of pleasure. 

Jungkook kisses up your shoulder and towards your ear, “Let go for me baby, I got you.” He whispers hotly in your ear, “Cum all over my fingers sweet girl, make it messy like you know how to.” His wrist flicks up, fucking your pussy with his fingers almost like he’s actually fucking you—the same force and brutality. 

Your legs quiver, pussy squeezing around his fingers as another dollop of slick runs down his wrist and your inner thighs onto a small puddle that formed during the finger fucking session. “Jungkook..!” You wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, “Yeah–like that,” you whisper breathily while staring into his eyes, “gonna cum.” You bite your swollen lip and muffle your moans. 

Jungkook licks his lips hungrily, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. When he feels your thigh stiffen he slots his lips against yours to swallow your moans and whimpers as you finally cum. You ride out your orgasm on his fingers by grinding back and forth on his hand. Loud whines and cries slip from your lips as you greedily fuck yourself on him, only stopping when your poor cunt throbs from overstimulation. 

The air between you two is hot, everything slowly comes to a halt and you feel like you can breathe again. Jungkook’s lips slip from your own with a smacking noise as you slump against the wall whilst panting softly. Jungkook easily follows, leaving gentle little kisses all over your neck to soothe the bite marks he had been leaving prior. 

“Mm–off,” you tiredly whine and shove at his arm, “ ‘s too much.” You mumble. 

Jungkook lets his fingers slip out from your gaping cunt, he doesn’t bother with cleaning his fingers and merely sucks the digits in his mouth, licking them clean with a devious look on his face. Before you can even think about anything Hoseok suddenly pops back into your head. Your eyes widen when you realize you left him out there all by himself. 

“Oh no, no, no,” you mumble out while pushing Jungkook off and scrambling for some toilet paper to clean yourself with, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jungkook stares at you with a brow raised given that he’s never heard this many cuss words leave your mouth ever. 

“What’s wrong?” He moves to cage you in, “Where you goin’ baby?” He lazily drawls out. 

“Back out there,” you snap in annoyance, all this pushing and shuffling around in the tiny ass stall has you irritated and feeling claustrophobic, “I can’t just pretend like Hoseok isn’t out there waiting for me.” You mumble while wiping at your inner thighs. 

Jungkook shrugs darkly, “I can.” He says so easily, “C’mon sweetheart, forget about him.. We can go back to my place and I can fuck you so good,” he whispers out while pushing you against the wall, “can fuck you on my bed all night baby.” He grins, “Might not even make it with how sexy you look in this little dress.” He whistles. 

“No Jungkook,” you sigh tiredly, “whatever happened just now is a one time thing, it shouldn’t even have happened! Especially here of all places, are you insane?” You shake your head and throw your trash out, “I mean it.” You look up at him, “Now get out of the way please.” 

Jungkook licks his lips, “Give me a kiss sweetheart.” He calmly says. You stare at him in disbelief but when he makes no effort to move out of your way you timidly reach up to cup his face and bring him down for a gentle kiss. Jungkook hums softly as he pulls back with half-lidded eyes, “Come home with me.” 

“Goodbye Jungkook.” You whisper and push past him as you hurry out of the bathroom. This was so not what you were planning.. 

+

“Your call cannot be connected, please try again,” A sigh of frustration leaves your lips as you hang up the call and close the app, “This is the fifth time..” You slump over on your sofa mindlessly scrolling through your messages. 

It’s been a week since Seulgi suddenly went AWOL on you. You had texted her to see if she was up to go out for lunch but you got no response, and for days now her replies seemed dry and odd. Something just felt completely off with her and now you were tempted to go over to her apartment yourself to see what was going on with her. You prayed and hoped she was okay though, wherever she was. 

With a fruitless sigh you toss your phone on the couch and sit there listening to the pouring rain outside. The sky was a gloomy pale blue color contrasting to the city lights below, the people walked on without a single care for the weather. You should know given that you spent your afternoon sitting in front of your large window watching the people and cars down below with a warm mug of tea on your lap. 

“Seulgi..where are you.” You whisper softly while curling into your blanket. You’re watching a random tv show when suddenly a loud clap of thunder and everything around you darkens slightly. You sit there in silence staring at the once animated flat-screen. “Greatttt.” You groan out and rub your temples, “Just what I needed, perfect.” You push yourself off the couch and head over to the dinner table to turn on the candles there. 

Not even a few seconds pass by when suddenly everything re-animates, you hear the sound of your microwave starting up, the tv turning back on, and the lights once again brightening the entire room. You stand there with the candle halfway in the air, a look of annoyance etched on your features. “Make up your mind will you?” You scoff and head into your room with your phone, intending to re-connect your phone to the wifi along with your other devices. 

You turn your computer on with a lazy hum and let it start up while you check your phone’s connection status. You mindlessly tap on the screen, accidentally clicking your bluetooth tab instead of the wifi one. Before you exit the tab you suddenly go still, “Oh?” You see a new name sitting there instead of your usual speaker etc. 

“Monitor system: 1.” You read out loud, a brow raising in confusion. Your home first off was huge, these weren’t your regular apartments—no these were massive luxury condos mixed in with penthouses. You lived on the top floor and most condos were separated handsomely with each having their own space to prevent any noise complaints. For there to be a new connection/device around only meant that it was coming from your home directly. 

Your neighbor’s walls weren’t nearly as thin for your phone to reach their own wifi radius, let alone their devices. This new device was inside your apartment. 

You stride over to your computer with purpose, immediately wasting no time in logging on and opening one of your newest softwares you currently had been using for work purposes. It acted as a signal tracker of all sorts, it was able to get the job done (via IP addresses of certain nearby devices). You waste no time in entering the information you needed, the sound of your fingers diligently typing away at the keyboard filling your otherwise quiet bedroom. 

The computer gave you an endless source code, you read along the lines of it and came to find out it was one of those hidden cameras judging by its original source name. You scroll down a tiny bit and your breath hitches in horror, the coordinates it gave you were a mere few feet away. You wouldn’t be able to exactly pinpoint the location but knowing the signal was coming from anywhere inside of your home sent chills down your spine. 

Your breathing picks up as you look around your seemingly innocent bedroom, not a thing misplaced or out of sight. You were a minimalist so it wasn’t like you had too much clutter sitting around. It can be anywhere, it can be anywhere, it can be anywhere. You repeated like a mantra in your head as you began tearing apart your bed, shoving at the pillows and comforters. 

You have to find it. 

. . .

Jungkook swiveled his computer chair side to side while watching the scene in front of him through his brightened computer monitors. He had three sitting around him all showing him different angles and displays. On the screen he gets a clear picture of your panicking form mindlessly throwing things around your room, looking under every crevice and surface—practically tearing your room apart to find his cameras. 

“Cute.” He chuckles softly while biting his thumb, “Do you think she’ll actually find them though?” He turns his head to look at his guest with a crazed look in his eye, “Or do you think we’ll have another week with them up? I mean she’s my smart girl, ain’t a computer whiz for no reason.” He mumbles more to himself. 

A low whimper—albeit muffled—comes in response, he hears shuffling behind him so he turns his chair around to look at the source of his oncoming headache. “Oh right, I forgot you can’t talk with duct tape on your mouth.” He laughs quietly while shaking his head, “I think I like you better this way though, you were always loud.” He turns back around and goes back to watching you. 

“Any day now..” 

+

The day that came after the rain was both clear and windy, you found it a perfect time to spend some time at the gym to get some things off your mind (also because you paid a hefty amount of money for this membership might as well?). You started off tame with the treadmills before you went off to some random machine, what you liked about this gym was that it was hardly ever packed. Introverts like you LOVED that. 

“I watched a change in you, it’s like you never had wings,” You nod along to the song’s steady rhythm, fully enjoying the guitar in the background. The sweat was building up rather quickly as you paced yourself, you were looking forward to having a good workout today, hopefully last night's events fade away into nothing. 

After you had found out about the hidden cameras, yes cameras, you went on a rampage tearing your entire house down. You were desperate to find them, not even the full blown smoking session you had after miserably failing to locate the things could soothe your poor mind and give you a night's rest. You were up tossing and turning, you think you got an hour max of sleep if anything. 

Just thinking about how you failed last night is enough to have you pushing through your burning muscles and keep going. You quietly pant in frustration, face twisting in anger as you wipe the sweat from your brow. Today you weren’t going to dilly dally, you were GOING to find those pesky cameras and burn them to hell, along with whoever did this. 

So far you had one obvious prime suspect, Jungkook. He knew your passcode to the house first off, put two and two together and you have yourself a (proven) theory, not a hypothesis, a theory. It would make no sense to accuse anyone else you hardly ever needed maintenance done at your place, and if an official from the apartment building came they were quick about it and under strict security measures. That’s why you paid the amount you did for your condo. 

It had to be him, who else does some weird shit like this? 

A huff of frustration leaves your lips as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. You close your eyes for a few seconds and count to ten before yanking one earbud out and getting up. You turn quickly and gasp when you hit a solid chest, “Shit I’m sor—Jungkook?” You peer at him in confusion and annoyance, “How did you get in here? You don’t even–ugh nevermind get out of my way.” You shake your head. 

Jungkook stands there with a proud little grin on his face, arms folded over his chest as his meaty arms on display, “Workin’ hard baby?” He chuckles. 

“Was, but you’re here now.” You roll your eyes and walk down the aisle of machines, “What do you want? I’m not in the best mood to deal with your antics today,” you take a deep breath, “in fact you’re the last person I wanna see right now.” 

“Who’s the first?” He gives you a shit-eating grin, he ignores the ‘you’re not funny’ look you cast at him, “Relax baby, I’m just playing around. Are you always this tense?” He says as he gently grabs your shoulders and rolls the stiff muscles under his expert hands. 

You suppress a tiny moan and roll your shoulders to shove him off, “Jungkook stop, I’m really not in the mood right now.” You mumble out and look at him, “Are you going to let me workout in peace or you going to bother me and waste my time?” 

“Just trying to help you relax sweetheart, what’s got you this worked up for hm?” He tilts your chin up with his finger, raising a brow questioningly when you take too long to answer. 

You’re stuck looking at him with glossy eyes, you just want to cry and you don’t even know why. You look off to the side and shake your head, “Come.” You grab his hand and lead him to the hallway away from everyone else, “I need you to tell me something and I want the truth Jungkook, I mean it Jungkook because if I find out you lie to me I’m so done with this and I really won’t want you near me.” You plead softly while grabbing his arms, “Are you or are you not the person who put hidden cameras in my apartment? Yes or no.” 

Jungkook stands there with a look of surprise on his face, no trace of malice or nervousness anywhere. “No.” He calmly replies, “I would never do that baby,” he pulls you into his arms and runs his hand over the small of your back comfortingly, “what’s going on baby?” He whispers. 

You press your cheek against his chest and hide your face, “I found out someone put cameras in my house, they’ve been watching me change, sleep, shower Jungkook.” You choke on a sob while trembling, “And I don’t know what to do. I can't find them, I've looked everywhere for them and nothing’s working!” You whine in frustration while tilting your head to look at him, “What do I do?” You whimper. 

“First things first baby we need to go about this calmly or else we’ll be going in circles and go nowhere.” He says and cups your face, “Can you do that for me baby?” He asks softly watching as you nod, “Good girl, we’ll get to the bottom of this okay? I swear.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. 

Technically you shouldn’t have allowed that, in fact you shouldn’t even be here standing pressed up with him like this. You’re a sucker for comfort though and you need reassurance now more than ever. “I gotta go,” you whisper while pulling away. 

He gently tugs you back in by your waist as he leans down with his lips ghosting over yours, “Give me a kiss sweetheart, just one.” He murmurs right before you can protest his request. 

You stare at him hopelessly and bring him down for a gentle kiss, resigning to your fate since he’d most likely not let you go without a kiss. Jungkook deepens the kiss, lips moving expertly over your own with a low rumble. He cups the side of your face with his large hand and strokes over your cheek with his thumb. It elicits a moan but you slip from his grip with a wet noise, you bite your bottom lip rather roughly and stare back defiantly at him. 

“You said only a kiss.” You whisper. 

“I know, but I just can’t resist sweetheart.” He breathes out and hoists you up in his arms, marching down the hall to the private shower rooms. 

You attack his neck in a flurry of kisses, biting down on one particular spot as payback for last time when he marked you up. He hisses low and kicks the door open to one of the stalls, immediately turning the water on. Hot water sprays over the two of you and you pull back in panic, “Shit wait my phone!” You yank your headphone out and toss your things under the door and away from the wet tile. 

Jungkook doesn’t ease up in fact he pushes you against the wall and begins kissing down the column of your neck, roughly squeezing your ass through your now soaked spandex shorts. “Fuck,” he says in between kisses, “you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy baby, I came three times just thinking about your soaked little pussy on my fingers. Even now you make it so hard to control myself,” he whispers harshly against your throat.

You quiver in excitement at the thought of Jungkook beating it to the mere memory of what happened almost a WEEK ago. It had your clit throbbing pleasantly as you tilt his face to look at you, “You really think about me?” You softly murmur.

He bites his lip with a groan, like your touch is the best thing he’s ever felt, “Fuck yeah baby, every night and day. I think about all the ways I had you in my bed baby, bent over and spread open stuffed full of my cock. I can’t help it, you drive me crazy, you made me like this,” he presses his hard cock against you, “it’s your fault I’m like this baby, so take responsibility.”

You choke on a moan and bite your lip, “Sit over there,” you whisper pointing to the small ottoman in the corner, “now.” Your eyes narrow when he moves a little too slow for your liking. 

Jungkook curses under his breath and lets you down, going over to the ottoman and taking a seat. He starts to push his sweats down but you stop him, “I’ll do it.” You fall to your knees on the slippery tile, your smaller hands replace his own and you tug his sweats down enough to fish his cock out. 

The mushroomy head peeks out and you want to moan out loud seeing that he went commando. His cock snaps against his stomach with a wet slap, a beady string of precum dribbles out of the head and down his thick veiny shaft. Your mouth waters as you take him in your hand and stroke him slowly, listening to the low moan he lets out as his head rolls back against the wall with a dull thud. 

You watch his lewd expressions closely and lean down to let your hot mouth hover over the tip, “Please baby,” he whispers, swallowing harshly. Your thighs rub together to soothe the ache you feel between them, you like this—him begging—it makes you feel like you’re in control for once. Maybe not by a lot but it greatly pleases both you and your ego. 

Your lips wrap around the leaking head, tongue coming down to poke at his slit and swirl around the sensitive tip. Jungkook moans breathlessly, watching as you slowly take more and more of his cock into your mouth. Your lips are stretched obscenely around him, like you’re struggling to take him—something he’s always loved whether it be your tight little cunt or your mouth. 

Jungkook grips the sides of the ottoman tightly with his knuckles turning white from his grip. You don’t like that one bit so you gently tug his hand and pull it towards your head. He gets the message and immediately buries his hand in your hair, fisting it tightly as he hisses, “Oh fuck,” his lips part as he leans his head back and swallows harshly, “like that baby, feels so fucking good.” 

You choke on a whine as you struggle to take the rest of him from the sheer girth and size of him. The tip pokes the back of your throat every so often as you bob your head slowly. You missed having his cock in your mouth, the delicious weight and curve sitting so perfectly over your tongue. You find yourself eagerly swallowing around him, throat constricting around his cock as you coat his cock with a layer of slick and slobber. 

“Fuck.” He growls out, his grip is unforgiving and he uses it as leverage to shove your head down on his lap until your nose is touching his pelvis. “Yes,” he gasps out, “like that, suckin’ it so good for me.” 

You sputter around him and pull back with a heavy gasp with a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his messy leaky cock. “C’mere,” he pants, “can I fuck your throat baby?” He rubs his thumb over your glossy lip, “Hm?” You find yourself nodding timidly, lips parting for him as he guides his cock back into your mouth. 

This time you feel more prepared for it as you set your hands on his thighs and look up at him with shiny eyes. He bites his lip and starts guiding your head—up-down, up-down—until he’s completely lost in his own pleasure using your throat like a pussy pocket.

Endless strings of “shit” and “fuck” leave his lips as he uses you to get off. A few times he’ll buck his hips up but the gagging noise you make has him settling back down. Your eyes are teary and spit dribbles from the sides of your lips and on to his thighs. The filthy noises your throat makes doesn’t help at all, in fact he’s more turned on by your gagging.

 

“There you go baby,” he huffs, “my own little cock sleeve, only I get to have you like this huh baby? No one else.” He growls low, “Makes me wanna lock you away some place no one will ever be able to find you in, you’re mine to look at,” he shoves your head down on his lap and holds you there, “mine to fuck,” he lets you come up for air, watching you gasp and take greedy gulps, “and mine to breed.” He darkly murmurs and pushes you back down. 

You whine loudly, this shouldn’t be turning you on more than it’s supposed to. Logically this was your cue to get the fuck out of there but you couldn’t. You greedily listened and took in every single word he said and pictured it in your head. Maybe he was right, you were fucked in the head. 

Jungkook licks his lips darkly, “Oh? You like that don’t you baby?” His cock twitches in interest, “You like hearing how much I wanna lock you up and keep you away like a doll?” He rolls his hips and you notice how the muscles in his abdomen flex and go taut, “Or how I’m gonna breed you and keep that little pussy full of me until you’re pregnant with our baby?” He whispers. 

A long moan escapes your lips as you suck hard, Jungkook’s hands drop from your head as he lets you take control once more and bob your head. You slurp and swallow around him noisily while stroking his soft balls in your hands. You’re getting all worked up now but you’re determined to make him cum down your throat. 

“Fuck baby,” he gasps, “gonna cum.” His moans rise in volume until his hand is coming down to hold you in place, face pressed tightly to his hips as he cums hard. Long moans leave him as spurt after spurt of cum shoots down your throat and fills your mouth. You do nothing but happily take it and swallow it. 

“Lemme see,” he whispers, breath ragged and chest heaving as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. “Good girl.” He lazily smiles when he sees that you indeed swallowed every last drop of him. 

You pant quietly and rub your sore throat, you must look like a mess with your glossy swollen lips and spit in the corners of your mouth. “Jungkook, I—” you were cut off by the sounds of someone entering the showers, heading into one of their own cubicles and starting up the water. You bite your lip and shake your head, you suppose this can wait for another time. 

Another time.. 

+

You’re not the same after what happened in the gym, you might have been in a lust ridden haze but you weren’t insane to think that Jungkook was playing around when he had told you all of that stuff. On one hand you were terrified of him, but a darker part of you was scared he was right. What if you did want him to lock you away like he said he would, you were more terrified of the fact that you had enjoyed his little manic moment. 

However as much as you had liked it there was no denying one thing, that he was the one who put those cameras in your home. You weren’t naive, you knew what kind of man you had dated and his obsession with you knew no bounds. He was very much capable of putting those things in your home, everything just screamed his doings. 

You hadn’t let him come over to “help” you look for them, instead you spent the next few days looking for them yourself. You deep cleaned every nook and cranny in your place but nothing ended up coming out of it (well at least you had a clean house now). You needed to act fast, the more you waited the more he would spiral out of control. You thought a quick hook up was going to satiate his hunger for you? Wrong. 

In the last three days you went back to having more sex than you could think of, and Jungkook was restless. He cornered you outside of your work and then you guys fucked in the private parking lot. He showed up after one of your late night convenience store runs and took you back to his place and fucked you (mind you, you were on very high alert the entire time). Just yesterday he had boldly pulled you to the side in a empty alley way before work and fucked the daylights out of you. 

Nothing you said or did could get him to spill accidentally or imply that he was involved anyway with your hidden camera situation. You were desperate to get a reaction out of him, something—anything to get him to slip up. So, you did the next best thing that came up in your head. 

You fucked Hoseok right there on your bed, letting him spread you wide and plow your tender little pussy for Jungkook to see. 

Your lips part with breathy sighs and moans slipping out of your mouth. Hoseok wasn’t a bad lover by any means, this man knew how to angle his hips and move them at a pace that definitely made your mouth water in arousal. You had one hand tangled in his hair, holding him by the back of his neck with his face tucked away in your shoulder and neck. Hoseok didn’t seem to mind, in fact he was openly moaning into your naked shoulder with his lips dragging over the soft expanse of your skin. 

“Seok—right there,” you grip him tighter and bite down on your bottom lip. You hook your chin over his shoulder and stare up at the ceiling in your pleasure filled haze, lips parting in a ‘o’ as no sounds seem to leave you. 

Hoseok hugs you closer to his hot body and begins moving with purpose, growling low and muttering curses in your ear. His cock strikes deep and brushes against your g-spot ever so slightly, just teetering on the edge of hitting it. Your eyes slip shut a lewd “mm” leaves you as your nails dig into his back. Hoseok turns his head and captures your lips in his, moaning deep into the kiss while grinding his hips in slow circles. 

The filthy noise your pussy makes when he does so has your mouth watering from the sound. You feel more dollops of slick slide down your perineum and between your cheeks on to the bed below. Hoseok sneaks a hand below and rubs his thumb over your throbbing bud, circling the tender button and pressing down to apply pressure. 

“Seok..!” You gasp and throw your head back on your pillow. 

Through your blurry gaze you come across the same little red dot from before, the one you swore was the source of your undoing. You stare at it for a few seconds until you finally catch it in its blinking moments. You hide your tiny smirk by turning to bury your face in Hoseok’s neck, now you know where at least one of them was.. Won’t be long until you find the next, and the next. 

+

You hummed a random tune under your breath while going over the mental list you made in your head on what you needed to buy for the week’s groceries. You’re feeling refreshed and happily fucked out from the night before, you swear you wouldn’t be opposed to another night like that if it ever came down to Hoseok asking you on another date. 

You’re smiling to yourself when a rough hand reaches out and yanks you into the alleyway opening, you jump in terror and whip your head up to see who the deranged lunatic is. It’s just Jungkook (thankfully). “What was that for?” You shake your head and give him an exasperated look. 

Jungkook looks pissed, like never before and you’re not entirely too sure whether to be scared or turned on by it. “So this is what we’re doing now huh? You finally tired of me after having your fun and leading me on like a dog in the streets?” He says in unbridled rage while looking down at you with a piercing gaze. 

You squirm in his hold and try to unlatch his hand but he merely presses you into the wall more firmly and holds you there with flared nostrils. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, now let me go!” You glare, you’ve finally had it with him just tossing you around like a doll and moving you to his liking, “I said let go Jungkook!” You push him roughly and watch as he stumbles back, hitting the wall across from you as he breathes heavy in anger. 

“So you’re not going to tell me about that fucker you took into your apartment last night? Hoseok was it? You let that…motherfucker put his hands all over you?” He growls in anger. 

There it was, all your suspicions turned true as you stared back at him with wide eyes. How he could have known was obviously only one way, “How did you find out about that?” You softly ask. 

“I saw you take him in there.” He stands with his fists clenched tightly. Oh how you should’ve known what a smooth little liar he was.

You had seen this coming in hindsight, he may have the upperhand but you were always a tad bit quicker and smarter than he was. You had made sure to use the private parking underground entrance when you and Hoseok had both gone to your place together, so there was no way of Jungkook knowing at all—well through his hidden camera of course. 

“You’re lying.” You softly reply and look down at your phone with a bitter smile, “You don’t fool me Jungkook, you haven’t since the beginning.” The accusation sits on the tip of your tongue as your finger slips and accidentally presses on the call button over Seulgi’s contact. Your phone starts dialing her number and before you can hang up the call you hear it.. 

A faint buzzing sound in Jungkook’s pocket, growing more and more deafening to your ears as you both stand in a face-off waiting for either of you to say something. Jungkook tries to poorly mask his surprise but it’s too late—you know. 

“I have to go now,” you take a step back slowly, “I just remembered a last minute phone call I have to make.” You keep a close eye on his movements while backing out of the alleyway slowly and then turning hot on your heels, you need to get the fuck out of there. 

. . .

Jungkook brings the phone out and shuts it off, “Fuck..” He mutters as he paces back and forth while running a hand through his messy hair. You know. Everything he has done up until now has gone to shit, he has to speed things up, yes, there’s no telling what you’ll do now that you know everything. 

“It didn’t have to be this way baby..” He slides his hands into his pockets while walking out of the alley, “If only you would come back,” he chuckles bitterly, “now look what you made me do..” He tosses Seulgi’s phone into the nearby trash. 

Jungkook starts singing “do I wanna know” under his breath. 

+

You push through the crowds of people on the sidewalk, rushing through the masses with millions of thoughts running through your head. You’re not even sure what the hell you want to do now, you contemplated going to the police but you didn’t have enough evidence to properly accuse Jungkook. If you went in there now they’d just brush it off as another crazy ex story. 

Just the thought of him hurting Seulgi made your heart ache in pain as silent tears streamed down your face. Seulgi didn’t deserve this, none of it, it was your fault for having such a crazy ex boyfriend who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now look where that got you, look where that got her.. 

“Fuck!” You sob out while pushing your hair out of your face and throwing your phone in pure desperation and frustration. You pace back and forth in your living room with tons of ideas but zero solutions. What were you going to do now? Jungkook was out of his fucking mind and now you were losing yours too. 

You knew you had to draw him in somehow, without him growing suspicious of you and your motives. Jungkook wasn’t stupid and you couldn’t try to treat him as such because then he’d for sure lash out and your plans would be ruined. You need to lure him in, if you could somehow get him into your apartment and use it as proof that he broke in then you could go from there. 

You take a seat at the dining table with your face buried in your hands, knee bouncing nervously as you take deep breaths. You know what you have to do, you’re just scared. Not of him, but of yourself. A deeper part of you wants him back, and that’s what terrifies you the most. You might not make it out of this, sane you mean. 

When night falls you lay there on your bed staring up at the white ceiling with your hands over your tummy. You’re nervous, paranoia rampant in your body as you attempt to calm your nerves. You had thought about it the entire time you made dinner, the food ended up being half eaten since you were too nervous to eat properly. As you laid there only one thing was on your mind: the cameras. 

During dinner you had come to the realization that you hadn’t taken the cameras out yet, and that’s when the ingenious plan came to your head. You knew he was watching—probably was right now as a matter of fact—you were going to use just that alone to get him here. How? The only way you knew how. 

After lighting up your candles to ease your nerves, you dimmed the lights in your room to a low fuschia pink color. You had showered and picked the prettiest silk nightdress you owned, laying in plain view for his pleasure. With a hitched breath as you slowly bend your knees with your feet planted on the plush comforter. Your legs slowly part as you bring the dress around your hips, you hadn’t bothered with wearing any panties—your cunt laid bare in the open with slick sticking between your soft folds. 

You brought your fingers down, swiping through the mess as you moan quietly when creamy slick stuck to your digits. You coated them thoroughly before bringing your fingers up to taste yourself, a low quiet whine leaving you as memories of Jungkook doing the same to you came flashing in your head. You began to imagine it was him feeding you your own slick, long rough fingers shoved down your throat as he whispered obscenities in your ear. 

“Good girl,” he’d say. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your other hand comes up to cup your tit gently squeezing the mound through your dress. “Suck it baby,” he’d whisper in your ear, “get my fingers nice and wet, there you go–atta girl,” another broken moan escapes as you pinch your hard nipple through the flimsy material. 

“Gonna fuck you nice and slow, you’d like that baby wouldn’t you?”

You whisper a breathy ‘yes’ as you move your slick fingers down to your pussy, “Want it so bad,” you moan, “want you so bad Jungkookie,” you mewl out while rubbing the pads of your fingers against your swollen clit. “Want you just as bad as you want me,” you’re not so sure you’re lying there, “need you to take me—make me yours, wanna be yours.” Your back arches as you dip your ring finger into your greedy little puckered up hole. 

“Open up for me sweetheart, gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Gonna be the best girl for you,” your head thrashes from side to side as you teasingly fuck your finger in and out of your soaked pussy, “only you baby,” you keen, “no one else, not even Hoseok.” You gasp out as your thighs shake, “Want you to come take me baby, keep me and breed me.” Your lips part in a silent ‘o’ as you fit another finger into your cunt. 

Your chest heaves as you angle your fingers upwards to hit your g-spot, your cunt squelches and drips with your frenzied movements. The noises you’re making combined with the wet noises below become white noise, your heart is pounding in your chest and sweat builds on your brow. “Fuck,” you sob out in pleasure while moving your free hand and resting it around your slender neck. 

The pleasure heightens as you begin to imagine it’s Jungkook looming over you, hand around your neck and his fingers buried knuckle deep in your sopping pussy. Your toes curl and you find yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, it’s right there—just a little more. You pick up the pace until you’re slamming your fingers in and out of your poor cunt, striking your g-spot head on over and over again. 

“Go on and cum for me baby, be a good girl and squirt for me, I know you can. There you go sweetheart, get ‘em nice and wet for me,” 

A loud sob escapes your lips as you’re locked in place, your pussy quivers and throbs slowly as jets of slick spills from you. You cum harder than ever, vision going white as your pussy throbs and goosebumps form all over your body. You physically have to close your eyes from how strong your orgasm was. 

“Jungkook..” You whimper softly and let your fingers slip out of your soaked pussy. You curl up into a tiny ball on your side, panting softly as your eyes droop sleepily. You’re vaguely aware of your surroundings—the candles, the mess on your bed, the slick between your thighs. 

You just want to sleep now. With a tired moan you sit up in disarray, looking around your room with dazed eyes. It was now a waiting game on whether Jungkook wanted to show or not, you just hoped you didn’t lose yourself in the process.. 

. . .

You wake up around midnight delirious and half asleep. After cleaning your room you had settled in for the night and went to bed dreaming of nothing in particular. If anything you were having one of the best nights of sleep before you were woken up by something or rather someone. You sit up half awake while rubbing your eyes to clear the blur from your vision. 

Your apartment is deathly quiet, you sit there trying to decipher any noise but nothing comes. A beat goes by and nothing happens. You slump over with a tired sigh, “This is nonsense.” You mutter and get out of bed, you figure a glass of water will do you good and send you right back into your peaceful slumber. 

You slip out of your room quietly when you hear it. The front door keypad beeps loudly as someone—or rather Jungkook—punches in the code to your apartment. You freeze mid-way down the hall, staring through the corner of the wall as the door is pushed open and Jungkook’s dark figure steps in. Everything shifts from zero to hundred real quick, you cover your mouth and run quietly down the hall to the guest bathroom, slipping in quietly and standing with your back to the door. 

“Shit, shit,” you whisper, you didn’t have your phone and Jungkook was definitely going to stop in your room first before anything. You crack the door open and flinch when you hear Jungkook treading down to your room, pushing your door open slowly as he slips in quietly. You watch with a bated breath, flinching once more when you hear him laugh from inside your room. 

“Oh baby is this what we’re going to do now?” He says as he re-emerges with your phone in his hand, “You wanna play a little game of hide and seek is that it?” He coos while whistling as he luckily heads back out in the opposite direction, “Okay baby, we can play your little game if you want.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before stepping out quietly, you run back into your room and grab one of your pens from your desk, “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he loudly calls out from the living room. You drop a few pens and hiss as you whip your head up to make sure he isn’t coming. 

“Oh baby you must be sick in the head,” he whistles, “making me chase you like a big bad wolf.” He tuts you, “Why don’t you just come out? Just wanna talk.” 

You take the opportunity to peek out of your room and throw the ballpoint pen down the hall nearby your guest bedroom door. It hits the marble floor with a loud thud, the noise deafening in your ear as you sit still and wait for him to reply. Jungkook pauses and then you hear his heavy footsteps as he passes by your room and down the hall, “Knock, knock you in here?” 

You peek out and make sure he enters the guest room before you slip out and run down the hall, slipping into the open kitchen as you duck behind the marble counters. 

“We didn’t have to do this the hard way sweetheart, we both know you want this—us. I saw the little show you put on for me, you looked so fucking good moaning my name like that,” Jungkook says while going into each room one by one, “Bet you wished it was my fingers in your little cunt.” 

You peer over the counter, immediately ducking when you see him step back out from the hallway, “Oh the things I wanna do to you,” he whistles, “if you come out now baby all is forgiven and I can show you just how much I loved your little show baby. Don’t you want that? I’ll get on my knees and eat that little pussy out like you deserve.” He says as he steps down to the living room area.

He’s so close, your heart is hammering in your chest right now as you crawl away from the counters and to the hallway again, “I’ll treat you so good, I’ll have you dripping in no time. After I eat your cunt baby I’ll fuck you with my cock just the way you like it. Going to have you stuffed full of my cum like I promised darling.” He’s in the dining room area now. 

“So just come out baby,” he says softly, “I’m begging.” 

You hear him open the door to your study and you waste no time in quickly standing and making a break for it to the front door. However as you step out from behind the wall Jungkook steps in front of you with a wicked smile, “I got you,” He immediately brings you into his arms and covers your nose/mouth with a white rag. 

You scream in terror and begin pounding your fists against his arms, pushing back and trying to buck his hand off your face. Jungkook hushes you gently as he kisses your ear, “It’s okay baby, just let go for me. I got you, everything’s alright.” He purrs gently in your ear while pressing the rag tighter against your face. 

Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you hysterically sob and huff through your nose while the fight slowly drains from you. You’re dizzy from lack of oxygen and inhaling the strong ass chemicals. Not once does Jungkook stop comforting you while he holds your limp body. “There you go,” he coos softly, “just close your eyes..” 

Your vision begins to fade in and out as you sway, you didn’t notice when his grip on you slowly eased up. The rag was no longer covering your face but the chloroform was doing its job. It made a strong wave of dizziness hit you all at once as you felt yourself fall forward. Jungkook didn’t let you hit the ground, however the last thing you heard was his soft whispering. 

“What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you,” he softly sang. 

+

Your eyes flutter open when a stray beam of sunlight hits you across the face from where you’re lying down. The first thing you notice is the windy breeze coming in through the opened window, the white curtains flowy as they move with the wind. You blink through the confusion and slowly turn your head to examine the rest of the room. 

Black bars. You inch forward slowly and grab the black metal, looking up to see the same thing above you. Cage. Your breathing picks up as you begin pulling at the metal, growing more desperate by the second as you shake the cage with such force. “No, no, no,” the tears begin to flow before you can even stop them. 

A strong wave of nausea and pain wafts over your tired body, you rub at your head to soothe the headache while rattling the cage handle violently. “Somebody help me..! Please, if you’re there please help me!” You sob out while falling limp, forehead pressed to the metal bars in defeat. 

A few minutes of your soft sobs filling the room pass by, you perk up when the door creaks open, “Help me please,” you softly whimper while rolling your head lazily to look at this person. Your vision blurs and you blink a couple of times until Jungkook’s standing tall and clear in your peripheral. 

“Might have gone a bit too overboard with the chloroform baby,” Jungkook’s face twists in worry as he squats down to your level in front of the cage, “hey, hey shh, it’s okay baby I’m here.” He reaches out to wipe your tears with his thumb. 

You flinch violently and yank yourself back so fast it gives you whiplash, “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit, “what the hell is the meaning of all this?! Tell me right now Jungkook.” You glare tiredly while curling into your side away from his reach. 

Jungkook ignores you and instead pushes a glass of water and some food under the cage opening, “I bet you’re hungry, here it’s been a cool minute actually..was kinda worried you’d never wake up.” He chuckles under his breath, “Go on baby, I made your favorite.” He says as he beckons you closer. 

“Jungkook,” you softly whisper, “where am I? What did you do to Seulgi—!” You yelp when the cage rattles as he slams his hand against it violently. His friendly demeanor instantly disappears once Seulgi’s name leaves your mouth. 

“I’ve never liked that meddling bitch,” he growls, “she’s the reason this entire thing began and ended the way it did! Seulgi didn’t know how to keep her fuckin’ mouth shut and her head out of our business and look what happened!” He shakes his head, “But if you really must know I already let her go so you can stop asking about her. She was useful for one thing at least...won’t be worrying anytime soon about her running her mouth I bet.” He mutters more to himself. 

You let out a breath of relief while sagging, “…I won’t forgive you for this Jungkook,” you softly say, “not this time. I gave you so many chances in the past but you never took me seriously and now look at you. You stooped this low because you couldn’t take no for an answer. When will you understand that I do not want to be with you, EVER.” 

“You see that’s where the lying comes in,” Jungkook bitterly smiles, “I know you don’t mean that shit because you had so many chances to run to the police or better yet just ignore me and did you? No, so don’t come to me with that shit that you don’t want me because deep down I know it fucking kills you to say that you do miss me and want us.” 

You stay quiet and stare back at him, of course he was right. You’re an enabler, you had so many chances to report him for stalking and harassment but did you? Maybe it was you wanting his attention but in the end you had no one to blame but yourself for indulging him and leading him on. 

“When you decide to stop lying to yourself we’ll talk,” Jungkook calmly says while getting up, “drink your water and eat your food, you’ve been out for a day and a half.” He says and leaves you to your devices. 

You sit there with a blank expression on your face, and the food continues to sit out all night—untouched. 

. . .

Jungkook doesn’t keep you in the cage for too long, in fact he lets you out the next day and shows you around the house. It’s a two story in the middle of the woods—far from the city you presume—Jungkook doesn’t let you wander past the glass doors leading to the outside, he keeps it locked with a keypad like the front door. You can only wander around the house and lay all day as the time flies by. 

It’s close to a month when you finally ask him what the date is. “Oh.” You look down at your bowl of oats and stare at it like it’s so much more interesting, “So close to a month?” You mumble more to yourself. 

Jungkook hums, “Baby the fruit,” he motions to the plates of fruit he cut up for your acai bowl you wanted to make, “flies are going to get all over the food and it won’t be any good anymore.” He says as he pushes a plate of bananas towards you. 

“Thanks.” You smile flatly, “Pass me the strawberries too please.” You don’t know why you’re being civil with him, in fact you kind of don’t know why you just don’t feel anything towards him—no anger, no malice, no nothing. You just kind of go back to how things were when you both were together. 

Jungkook holds the plate out for you, his knuckles brush against your hand and a pleasant little shiver runs down your spine. Another thing you’ve been having issues with, you were so fucking touch-starved it was like you were itching for him to touch you. Any form of touch you greedily ate it up, however your pride stopped you from seeking him out. You refused to let him know how much he affected you. 

“Thanks.” You softly say while tucking your head and distracting yourself with your acai bowl. 

Jungkook smiles lovingly, “You’re welcome baby.” He gently kicks your foot with his, reminding you of your stark size difference, how his long legs easily reached yours. You bit your lip harshly, tasting the metallic tang of blood. You just hope you can hold out for longer. 

These days you spend lounging around has definitely given you time to think about things. Maybe you’re fucked in the head too but you knew who exactly Jungkook was. You knew the type of person he was then and you most definitely knew now. From the very beginning you were very self-aware of his tendencies and unhealthy obsession. It was something you kept more to yourself. 

When people asked if you noticed how strange he was acting you simply turned the shoulder and played the innocent card. Of course you knew, and you fucking loved it. The only REAL reason why you left was because Jungkook wasn’t listening to you and things were starting to look bad on the both of you, people were talking and you didn’t enjoy looking like the fool whenever people asked if Jungkook was planning on actually staying for his therapy sessions. 

You had a thing for wanting all the bad things you shouldn’t want. 

And it was too late, you had already fallen in too deep to get out. 

“What you cookin?” Jungkook lazily asks as he bends low to hide his face in your shoulder, his arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you back until your back hits his chest. 

“Was craving ramen.” You softly reply, the question you had already sitting on the tip of your tongue. Jungkook notices your hesitance but doesn’t comment on it, he only turns his face to kiss the side of your neck with a lazy hum. “I was wondering..” You quietly start, “Do you still..smoke?”

Jungkook pauses, “Yeah why?” 

You sigh softly as he begins sucking on your neck, “Wanted to see if you could bring some pre-rolls or something. I don’t know why but my nerves have been all over the place lately and I can’t relax.” You lean your head back on his shoulder with a noncommittal hum. 

Jungkook chuckles quietly, “Don’t worry baby, I have some bud stashed away. We can smoke some together right now if you want to?” He sways side to side with you, “How does that sound, hm?” He drops his head on your shoulder once more. 

You nod, “Perfect.”

Jungkook has the blunt ready when you both finish eating. He lights it and hands it over to you, “Smoke as much as you want, I’ll roll another one if you finish that one.” He says as he lays back on the couch lazily while scrolling through the selection of movies and shows. You dive right in without hesitation and relax on the couch as you fill the air between you two with clouds of white. 

You both pass the blunt back and forth until there’s no more of it left and you’re both staring at the TV with half-lidded eyes. Jungkook has his hands crossed behind his head as he watches whatever tv show he put on. “C’mere baby,” he smacks his lips, “wanna hold you.”

You obey easily, slipping into his lap as you lie down on top of him with your head over his heart. You listen to his heartbeat with a soft sigh, “Do we have cookie dough, wanna make some cookies.” You murmur softly while closing your eyes. 

Jungkook grunts, “I think.” He replies, “Maybe, check.” He rubs your back and drops his hand down to your ass, resting it there for comfort as he squeezes your cheek through your velvet shorts. 

“I will.. Give me a second.” You reply, Jungkook hums in response and everything goes quiet after that. Soon his little butt pats stop and Jungkook lays there peacefully sleeping under you. Your tired eyes drift over to him and then the front door, you close your eyes and hold your breath. It was now or never. Weed wasn’t nearly enough to make someone completely knock out for sure but you think back to the small pill bottle sitting innocently in the cupboard. 

. . .

Jungkook sleepily smacks his lips as his eyelids flutter open, his vision is blurry and it takes a few minutes of blinking for him to adjust to the bright lights. He hears cupboards being slammed, drawers opened and then shut. He makes a noise of confusion and looks over with a confused look, “Baby?” He rasps out. 

Your head whips over to him, “You’re awake.” You walk over calmly and hold a glass of water, “Drink.” You hold the cup up to his lips, “You’re gonna need your voice right now.” 

“Huh? What for?” He notices his hands are tied behind his back on the chair, he looks down to see ropes tied around his legs as well. He looks back at you with realization coming over his face, “Baby?” 

You force the cup into his mouth and make him drink the water, some of it spills out the sides of his mouth as he sputters and coughs. “Now, tell me what the code for the front door is Jungkook.” You stand in front of him with a stony expression. 

Jungkook quietly chuckles, “And why exactly would I do that for hm? You think it’s that simple baby, how cute. Now untie me and all is forgotten,” he leans his head back with a long sigh, “C’mon, don’t you wanna go back to cuddling and watching that movie sweetheart? Promise I’ll even make it nice and warm for you.” He smirks devilishly. 

You let out a breath of desperation and irritation, “I’m not playing around right now Jungkook. Either you give it to me now or I break through the windows and leave you here tied up.” 

Jungkook looks at you with a dopey grin, “Go ahead, the nearest bus stop from here is three hours away. Won’t take long before I find you and bring you home with me baby.” He licks his lips and eyes you up and down, “Though I must say, you’re really doing wonders to me with those little shorts baby.” He purrs. 

You close your eyes and count to five, “Fuck you Jungkook.” You whisper out while pacing back and forth in front of him. 

“I’m righttttt here, all you gotta do is pull my cock out—” His face whips to the side as you slap him in pure anger, “and sit right on it.” He finishes with a smirk as he looks at you calmly, “Better yet, untie me, it’s the pent up stress right? I’ll give it to you so good if you just untie me baby. We can take it to the bed and have a nice night you and I,” he licks his lips. 

You grab the sides of your head as you scream out in frustration, “You make my life a living hell! It’s all your fucking fault I’m like this, I couldn’t sleep for months after I left you and then you appearing out of the blue wasn’t helping me! I would have been one hundred percent better off without you coming into my life at all, you ruined me! I tried Jungkook,” you whisper, “I really did but none of them were you. No one compared, not even Hoseok. They couldn’t give me what I wanted and it’s all your fault,” you grit your teeth and stomp over to straddle him, roughly cupping his face, “so take responsibility.” You hiss. 

Jungkook licks his lips as his eyes drop down to your lips and then you, “So take it,” he whispers, “take what you want.” 

You stare at him for a few minutes before smashing your lips against his in a rough teeth-clashing kiss. Jungkook moans and leans into the kiss, chasing after your lips as you both roughly move against each other. He hisses when you bite down on his lower lip and tug gently. “Baby—”

“Shut the fuck up.” You glare while reaching below to push his sweats down his thighs and around his knees, “You don’t get to baby me,” you briefly stand to shove your shorts down, “not after all the hell you put me through these months. You have any idea how much I wanted you?” You climb back on to his lap once your panties come off, “No—you don’t.”

Jungkook’s mouth gapes open as he watches you lick your fingers and bring them down between your soft thighs, “So no, you’re not going to take this from me. You’re going to sit there and watch me fuck myself,” he moans loudly when the words leave your lips, “and you’re not going to touch me until I say so. If you try to rush or beg me I’m going to gag you, understood?” 

“Yes baby.” He whispers back. 

You circle your clit slowly with the tip of your finger to ease some tension you had. Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to watch you as you work your fingers over your clit slowly. You bite your lip to suppress your moan, thighs spreading a tiny bit more around his hips to give him more access. 

“I thought about you a lot, you know?” You softly sigh while rolling your hips slowly, “Can’t tell you how many times I fucked myself thinking about you..” You cut off with a loud moan as you pop a finger inside your sopping little cunt. 

Jungkook bites down on his lip as he looks up to watch your face closely, “I even imagined it was you whenever I fucked someone else.” You whisper darkly in his ear while pumping your finger in and out, “Hoseok could never, didn’t even compare to your cock.” You bite his earlobe teasingly while reaching down to wrap around his cock with your free hand. 

“Fuck baby,” he whines, “let me out, c’mon, I’ll fuck you so good.” He pleads softly.

 

You squeeze your hand around his throbbing shaft, “What did I say?” You whisper, relishing in his pained moan, “If you’re good for me I’ll let you fuck me..all, night, long.” You peck his cheek. It’s enough for Jungkook to quieten down as he pants softly. You grin in satisfaction and pop your finger out, “Open.” You press against his lips. 

Jungkook easily opens his mouth and you slip your finger in, he greedily sucks and swirls his tongue around the wet digit before letting go with a low pop after he cleans your slick off. You giggle quietly and run your thumb over the head of his cock, “Missed your cock baby,” you softly smirk, “missed how well it fills me up, how fat and big it is…just right for me.” You aim the weeping head over your folds, rubbing him back and forth as you smear your slick around. 

Jungkook throws his head back, “Yeah?” He breathes out, “Why don’t you slip it in baby? Fuck yourself on my cock, nice and slow.”

You let the tip catch on your hole, prodding at you stubbornly as he threatens to slip inside. “Do me a favor baby..” You whisper, watching his eyes brighten as he perks up, “Shut the fuck up.” You bring him in for a kiss, effectively shutting him up while you press his cock into you. 

Your hips raise and slowly inch downwards as you slip his fat cock inside, you moan against his lips as his cock slowly slides inch for inch. You let his cock go and wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as you slowly come to a halt once you sit down on his lap bottomed out. Jungkook groans low through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes from being held back by the ropes. 

“Fuck,” you sigh in pleasure while circling your hips, “so good..” You bounce on his cock lightly, the fat of your ass jiggling as you move up and down, side to side. Jungkook’s face twists in pleasure as he leans his head back. You lick your lips and watch him with close eyes, “You like that Jungkookie? Love how tight I feel around you baby?” 

“God yes,” Jungkook whispers as he shudders, “love having your little pussy wrapped around my cock. Wanna stay like this forever.” He groans out, “C’mon baby, untie me and I’ll fuck you just the way you deserve. Gonna have you screaming and crying all over my cock.” 

You mewl loudly and bounce faster on his lap, the very thought of him fucking you like he’s promsing is tempting you to untie him. But just as quickly as the temptation came, it goes. You end up slamming your hips down until your ass slaps against his thighs loudly, his cock slams deep and hits your g-spot. “Mmm..!” You throw your head back. 

Jungkook hisses in pleasure as he mindlessly begs for you to let him go, he alternates between loud moans and slurred words. Your thighs begin to ache rather quickly and your pace begins slowing down. You switch from bouncing to grinding, rocking your hips quickly and in ways that have him gasping for more. 

The poor chair begins creaking under the weight of you both, loud squelches fill the room as slick dribbles down your pussy and his cock to his balls. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you stop to press down and work your hips in circles of eights. “Oh fuckkk..” You whisper out as your thighs tremble, “Jungkook..!” You squeal as your orgasm takes you by surprise. 

Jungkook in that moment manages to untie the knots around his wrists, he pulls you closer on his lap while biting down on your shoulder, “Untie my feet, right now.” He growls, “I played your little game now it’s my turn.” 

You mewl shakily and reach down to pull both knots free, he wastes no time in lifting you up as he carries you to the table, bending you over the surface. You gasp in surprise when his hand swoops down to smack you hard across your ass. “Stay still.” He growls as he lines his cock up with your pussy and shoves it in one go. 

Your mouth falls open as he begins plowing your pussy like no tomorrow. Jungkook grips your hips tight while smacking his hips into your ass, watching as your cheeks collide with his pelvis. He grunts with effort and reaches down to bring the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, biting it as he holds it up to watch the way his cock disappears into your drenched pussy. 

“Jungkook..!” You cry out, “P-Please, ‘s too much,” you drool while gripping the edge of the table. 

The table screeches loudly as it shakes from the force of his thrusts. Jungkook reaches around to pinch and rub at your sensitive clit, ignoring your squeals and pained moans. His balls slap against your folds with wet pap sounds, you can tell by the way his pace is stuttering that he’s close to coming too. You purposely clench around him, relishing in the muffled moan he lets out. 

He grabs at your hip bones painfully, digging his fingernails in as his hips stutter in their movements. He slams in once, twice, and finally a third until he goes still. His cock throbs and twitches violently as his cum fills you spurt after spurt. He releases a long moan, idly grinding in to milk his cock/orgasm. 

“Fuck..” You whisper breathlessly while laying on the table with your cheek against the wood, your eyes glazed over. 

Beats of silence pass by until Jungkook’s leaning over to whisper in your ear, “You’re mine baby.” He says while kissing your ear and neck.

You hum quietly and lean into his touch, “I love you.” You softly whisper, no longer against the idea of loving and wanting to be with him. Jungkook hums back, he sounds pleased with your answer as he smooths his hands over your hips. You close your eyes tiredly and lick your dry lips, hearing him utter back to you. 

“I love you too baby.” 

+

You drowned out the sounds of the people laughing and cheering in the background. You looked around the brightened room with a smile on your red painted lips, greeting some of the on-goers as they passed by you. Tonight was somewhat of a special night for you—your birthday. All your friends and family surrounded and showered you with endless gifts and praises. 

However none were Jungkook. 

He was pressed up against your back just laughing and talking with friends, catching up if you will. “Me and y/n decided to work things out you know? We took a last minute trip out of town and rented out a cabin to get away from everything you know?” He said. 

You merely smile when they turn to look at you, “We decided to get back together.”

Everyone cheered and congratulated you both, however one person in particular stood back from the others. Seulgi. She hadn't been the same since Jungkook let her go, you can see just how much it affected her seeing him. Although Jungkook swore to you he didn’t harm her physically, the damage was already done mentally. 

Seulgi stood far back from the others, eyeing you and Jungkook with both distaste and fear in her eyes. She hadn’t made a move to come talk to you at all, but you didn’t care. If anything you continued on like nothing was happening, like there wasn’t any animosity between you, her, and Jungkook. She knew better. 

Jungkook smugly turns to look at Seulgi, raising his glass of wine at her as a toast before taking a sip. He curls his hand right over your tummy, where the tiniest of bumps hides underneath your dress. Seulgi can only turn away, if only they knew just how far Jeon Jungkook was willing to go in the name of love. 

If only they knew the secrets you chose to keep..

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[aaclariww]

Smoke & Mirrors | Preview

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: For months, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end, until someone new makes you wonder if you should. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 250ish ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes : A few months ago I held a mini contest within my fic Nerd & Nerdier which is to guess which MVs I referenced when Yoongi and MC where gossiping about their neighbors. The winner was none other than @glossdebut who picked her genre of choice.

Here’s a tiny preview of the angsty little thing.

TAGLIST IS OPEN | Masterlist

“I’m fucked up,” Yoongi’s voice slurs through the speaker.

You squint at the screen.

3:09 a.m.

Hm. It’s always around this time.

“Where are you?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.

“I’m here.”

The thing about Yoongi is here never means anything certain. With him, you’ve learned here is everywhere and nowhere all at once. An idol’s life. You made peace with it a long time ago — you take him when he shows up, and when he leaves, you pretend you don’t feel the hollow he drags behind.

You’d like to believe in out of sight, out of mind. But that’s a lie you don’t bother telling yourself anymore.

“You want me to call Seokjin?”

“Why? Still tryna sleep with him?”

And there it is, drunk and so, so unfair. Mean in the way only Yoongi can be when he’s hurting or drunk. Or both. You think this time it’s both. Finally.

A response to the text you sent last week. You thought he never read it. Now you know, he has.

You only mention Seokjin because he’s the one person who can come find Yoongi, who always has in his dumbest, darkest decisions.

“Yoongi, please,” you sigh. “Just send me your location.”

“Okay.”

Your phone buzzes. A pin drops.

And it’s your address.

You’re out of bed before you even register it, bare feet hitting the floor with a muted thud.

When you open the door, he’s already there, slouched against the hallway wall, cigarette tucked between his lips, white air curling around him like a watercolor painting.

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the hallway,” you say, more breath than scold, pushing the door wider.

“I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Then why are you?”

A/N: Ready for more? Drop me a note! <3

Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)

@wonh0oe @woozuzu @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm-

@angellekookie

[aaclariww]

> motive — pt.19 (1/2) ,, jjk . index !

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

note: splitting this part in two — it got a little longer than expected and i want to give the next half the space it deserves ,,, thank you for being patient with me ;( <3

today is just another day.

or at least, that’s what your boyfriend, your brother, and your best friend think.

but not for you. not when so much is at stake.

you’re trying to fix things. you have to. because if you don’t, they’re never going to be the same again.

not with each other.

and not with you.

they don’t know they’re all going to meet here. that’s the part you and yumi haven’t told them.

taehyung probably thinks you invited him to talk about something with yumi. just you and her. maybe something light, something about old times. or just a regular hang out.

he doesn’t expect more.

jimin definitely knows you’re here.

but he doesn’t know the rest. he thinks it’s just you. maybe he’s coming to patch things up with you. maybe not.

and jungkook— he’s just coming to pick you up. that’s it. that’s all he thinks this is. a quiet ride home.

you thought about it a lot.

and you hate that they’re all so ready to give everything up for the sake of someone else.

like taehyung, who stepped back for jungkook.

like your brother, who turned his back on a best friend. for his other best friend, for jungkook.

and jungkook, who walked away from all of it. for you.

none of it feels right.

so you’ve made up your mind. if you don’t try now, if you don’t fix this, their friendship will never be what it was. and maybe, you’ll never feel whole again either.

“i think taehyung’s gonna be here first,” yumi says gently, bumping your arm with hers as you both wait by the door.

you nod. “he’s always on time.”

“we should probably hide him or something,” you whisper, glancing around nervously. “if jimin sees him right away, he might walk out.”

“yeah,” yumi agrees, just as tense as you are.

it’s only 5:45. still early. but your heart’s already racing.

you shouldn’t be this scared.

no matter what’s happened recently. no matter what they’ve become to each other.

they’ve always been your family.

and deep down, you know.

they’re still each other’s family too.

“it’s going to be okay, boo,” yumi says softly, slipping an arm around your shoulder, giving you a squeeze.

“we can do this.”

you nod. you have to believe her.

it’s 5:52 now.

you’re nervous. this is big. too big.

a confrontation like this.. there’s no telling how it’ll go. there’s so much you need to fix.

your relationship is on the line. jimin still hasn’t accepted you and jungkook. and until he does, nothing will really feel okay.

everything feels like too much. and the worst part? nothing has even happened yet.

you’re grateful yumi’s with you. she hasn’t left your side through any of this. and you know, without a doubt, you’d do the same for her.

you’re lucky to have friends like her. like them.

and then—

the door opens.

you expect taehyung.

but it’s not him.

it’s your brother.

jimin stands in the doorway, looking at you and yumi, both of you clearly waiting. it’s written all over your faces.

you feel something catch in your throat.

it hurts.

you can’t help it.

you haven’t seen him since that night. since he got angry. since he kicked you out.

you try not to cry. you really try.

but standing here, facing him again... it’s too much. your eyes sting, your chest tightens.

but you don’t cry. not yet.

you just stand there. looking at him. and he looks right back.

he sees it. all of it. the way your lips tremble, the way you’re holding everything in. and it fucking breaks him.

because no matter how mad he was, jimin’s never been okay seeing you cry.

even when yumi told him you cried the day he kicked you out— he knew it would hurt you. and he regretted it. deeply.

he came here today to apologize.

to you.

only you.

because he just wants his little sister back.

“you’re here early!” yumi says suddenly, breaking the heavy silence.

“come in, come in,” she adds quickly, and wraps her arms around you.

you close your eyes and lean into her, letting yourself breathe for a second.

yumi knew you’d be like this.

jimin nods, slipping off his shoes, walking past you both into the apartment.

“what’s that in your hands?” yumi asks, patting your back gently before pointing to jimin’s hand.

you look too.

jimin fumbles a little. “it’s, uh…” he places a small bag on the table. “some drinks. i didn’t know what you’d want, so… i got a few. pick whatever.”

he sits on the couch, not looking up, like he’s embarrassed or something. it makes both you and yumi smile.

“ooh, let me see,” yumi grins and rushes over to the bag. you follow her.

“oh look, he got three of my favorite drinks and three of yours, ___,” she says, picking two out.

she’s right.

they are your favorites.

“see, ___? the grumpy big brother still cares about you,” she teases, nudging you.

you feel yourself relax a little. you smile, just a little.

meanwhile, jimin groans and facepalms. “mi…”

“nuh uh,” yumi cuts him off, sipping a strawberry drink. “you don’t get to call me that until you fix your shit.”

he sighs, finally turning to face her. “fine. let’s talk, then.”

you and yumi glance at each other.

“uh… not yet,” yumi says quickly.

“why not?” jimin frowns.

“cuz…” she trails off, looking at you for help and you glance toward the clock.

you point at it, and yumi nods.

“it’s not 6 pm yet,” she says proudly, taking another sip.

jimin blinks. then looks away, crossing his arms.

“great. okay.”

it’s 6 pm now.

your eyes flick to the clock. your heart pounds a little harder.

you’re nervous again. but now for a different reason.

if taehyung walks in next and jimin sees him… oh god.

you don’t even want to imagine it.

and right on cue, the door opens.

you and yumi both glance over quickly

and it’s...

jungkook.

okay.

okay!

not who you expected.

but okay.

“it looks like it might rain soon and—”

he stops midsentence, eyes moving from you, to yumi, and then landing on jimin.

“oh,” he says.

jimin exhales loudly, rolling his eyes. “i knew something like this would happen,” he mutters under his breath. not even subtle, and definitely loud enough for everyone to hear.

yumi glares at him. “settle down. we still have to talk.”

jungkook looks at you again. you give him a small, awkward smile.

he exhales softly, steps forward, and hugs you, kissing your forehead gently.

you melt into him, arms around him. just being close to him makes everything feel a little more bearable.

yumi watches with a fond smile.

jimin scoffs. loudly.

which earns him a smack from yumi.

he flinches like a kid and brushes her hand away, sulking.

“that’s all, right?” jimin stands up, turning to yumi. “time to talk. fix my shit like you said.”

“uh…” yumi says slowly, uncertain.

“okay, enough wasting time,” jimin cuts in, turning to you.

he points. “you.”

you blink.

“you’re coming back home with me,” he says.

your brows furrow. “what do you mean?”

jimin glances away for a second, uncomfortable. “i’m sorry,” he says.

a pause.

“for telling you to leave… for what i did.”

and that—

that’s a relief.

you feel something uncoil in your chest.

yumi breaks into a grin. “oh thank god, you’re not being a complete idiot.”

you light up, eyes wide. “really?”

jungkook smiles too, stepping closer, placing a warm arm around you. he opens his mouth to say something—

but jimin raises a hand.

“but i don’t want to see his face again.”

and everything freezes.

you frown instantly. “what the hell does that mean?”

“jimin, are you fucking serious?” yumi snaps, stepping forward.

jungkook stiffens beside you. he doesn’t let go, but he does take a small step back, almost like he’s bracing himself.

jimin’s expression doesn’t shift. it’s bitter. set. like he’s already decided.

“jimin, that’s not fair. he’s your best—”

“___, it’s okay,” jungkook says quietly, cutting you off.

“no, it’s not!!” your voice rises, frustration cracking through. “stop doing that.”

you turn to jimin. “you need to think before you make decisions like this. this isn’t what i wanted.”

jungkook’s eyes lower, defeated.

jimin says nothing.

yumi looks at you, helpless.

you’re overwhelmed. it’s not supposed to go like this.

and then, before you can stop yourself—

you say it.

you let the words fall.

“youre doing it again,” you say quietly. your voice shakes. jungkook looks at you. so does yumi. and jimin’s eyes flick to your face.

“you choose one person, and you leave the other behind like they meant nothing.”

jimin stiffens.

“___—”

“just like you did with taehyung.”

the name lands heavy in the room.

“you believed what you wanted, chose who you wanted, and left someone else to carry the blame. you didn’t even ask what really happened!”

jimin’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing.

“and now you’re doing it again, it's the same—” your voice breaks, but you push through. “you’re trying to push jungkook out because it’s easier than facing the truth. that you hurt me. that he didn’t.”

jungkook looks at you, confused. “___, what are you talking about?”

before you can even try to respond, jimin speaks. firm. sharp. like he’s shutting the door on the conversation before it even begins.

“it’s nothing.”

your heart sinks a little.

but jungkook’s eyes snap to him immediately.

he frowns. “what is my girlfriend talking about, jimin?”

he says his name with a bite, like it tastes bitter on his tongue. like he’s done playing nice.

jimin glares at him. “don’t start.”

“start what?” jungkook takes a step forward.

“because there’s something clearly you all know that i don’t,” jungkook says, voice low but edged with something breaking. “and i deserve to know what.”

jimin looks away instantly. his jaw tightens. he doesn’t say anything.

“it doesn’t matter anymore,” he mutters, but it sounds weak, even to himself.

“jimin—” you try, but jungkook speaks again.

“___,” he says your name so gently it almost hurts.

he hesitates, his voice cracking just the slightest before he steadies it.

“is this about taehyung and…” he exhales shakily, his hand tightening a little where it holds you. “yeonha?”

you feel your stomach twist, but you don't lie.

“yes.”

his expression doesn’t change at first. but you can see the shift; the pain slowly surfacing under his eyes, flickering like it’s trying not to drown him.

“tell me everything,” he says. not begging. not demanding. just asking. like he needs to know. like he’s owed that much at least.

and maybe he is.

all he can think about now is how quick he was to shut taehyung out.

because he's always had this thought in his head, whispering that taehyung would never betray him like that. never like that.

but he never had proof.. nothing solid, nothing he could hold onto. just a gut feeling he buried under anger and silence.

but now, the moment you say those words; so vague, so light they almost float away, they hit him harder than any truth ever has.

you didn’t even say much.

you barely gave anything away.

but it’s enough.

enough to make him pause.

enough to make his heart drop.

enough to make him rethink everything.

and suddenly, he doesn’t feel angry anymore.

he just feels like maybe… he was wrong.

he thinks about how fast he chose one side.

how maybe…

maybe he didn’t know the full truth.

maybe none of it was simple.

and maybe he never actually asked for a real explanation.

and just as you part your lips to speak, your brother cuts in—

“i’ll tell you.”

your eyes dart to him, surprised by the sudden shift. he’s not looking at anyone in particular, just at the floor like the words are heavier than they should be.

“i’ll tell you everything,” he says again, more certain this time. “about yeonha, about taehyung, and... me.”

6:30 pm

everything's out.

the whole truth.

the silence after is heavier than anything that’s been said.

everyone’s on the couches, no one saying a word.

yumi sits beside jimin, her hand gently resting on his. he looks exhausted; eyes down, voice long gone. he looks like he’s been carrying this guilt for years. maybe he has.

you’re next to jungkook. his back is hunched, face buried in his palms. your hand rubs slow circles across his back, trying to comfort him. trying to hold him together while he processes everything— while it all finally clicks.

it’s too much.

and yet, it’s what he needed to hear.

“all this time,” jungkook breaks the silence, voice low.

“i was so stupid. i should have...” he trails off, the words catching in his throat.

you shift closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, your other hand gently cupping his cheek. “it wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. he leans into your touch like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

jungkook can’t breathe through the weight in his chest. guilt claws at him, twisting his insides.

he didn’t know.

he didn’t know taehyung and yeonha were a thing. didn’t know jimin knew and kept it from him. didn’t know he had unknowingly stepped right into something already so tangled. didn’t know yeonha used him to get back at taehyung, to get under someone’s skin.

he thought he was in love. thought he’d been betrayed. but he hadn’t seen anything clearly.

he’s mad.

mad at yeonha— for everything. for lying. manipulating. because he spent years blaming the wrong person.

mad at jimin— for keeping quiet. for letting their friendship shatter under the weight of something he could’ve helped untangle. but even then, he knows... it wasn’t easy. none of it was.

mad at taehyung— for not saying anything. for letting it all burn just so jungkook could hold onto something fake. for choosing to hurt silently instead of fighting for their friendship.

he’s furious.

but more than anything... he’s heartbroken.

because it’s been years.

years they could’ve had. years of laughing, growing, being there for each other.

all of it, lost to misunderstandings and silence.

and jungkook...

he just wants to break. to cry. to go back and fix it all.

but he can’t.

so he stays curled into your side, trying to hold himself together, while you hold him like you always do.

.

.

.

jimin hasn’t looked up since he finished talking.

his hand is still under yumi’s, but he hasn’t moved. hasn’t said a word. and he’s not even sure he can.

he’s been dreading this for years; saying it all out loud. letting the past catch up to the present.

and god, it hurts.

because he sees the way jungkook breaks beside you, and it fucking kills him. because jungkook was his best friend first. his brother. and jimin let him carry a lie like a weight on his back, never knowing why it hurt so much.

taehyung. jungkook. himself.

he never wanted this day to come. never wanted to speak this truth. not because he didn’t care, but because he knew it would hurt jungkook most. and maybe that’s selfish... maybe protecting jungkook made taehyung the villain in a story he never wrote. maybe jimin just couldn’t face it.

he wanted to forget it ever happened. to bury it deep, lock it away, pretend the past didn’t exist.

he told himself he was protecting everyone.

but it was never protection.

it was fear.

until now... back then...

when he was eighteen.

he was scared. overwhelmed. a kid who thought telling the truth would destroy everything they had left. so he didn’t. he stayed quiet. and he’s still scared now, because after all this time, he still doesn’t know how to handle it.

and he only spoke tonight because it felt like everything was breaking again anyway. like if it was all falling apart, he might as well stop lying.

even if the guilt is unbearable.

and now it’s out there.

all of it.

there’s no undoing it. no taking it back.

he swallows hard, blinking slowly as the lump in his throat rises and refuses to fall.

he wants to say he’s sorry.

wants to beg for forgiveness.

but he knows it’s not enough.

so he just sits there; silent, still. eyes on the floor, shoulders heavy, guilt sitting with him like it always has.

6:45 pm

it stays silent for a while.

yumi and you glance at each other. your boyfriend in your hold; a man unraveling quietly, trying to breathe through the weight of everything.

your brother in hers; staring down, looking more than just upset. more than just tired. like regret has finally caught up with him and settled in his bones.

you open your mouth to say something. anything. but then,

the front door opens.

“i am so sorry i’m late, i was getting some things for you guys and my car br— oh.”

taehyung.

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @kooverses @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @dollyunjinz @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya

[aaclariww]

04 | SHADOWS OF OBSESSION ⭒ JJK

“I don’t believe in love, petal. It’s a fucking lie, a trap for the fools. But this—this thing I feel for you—it's bigger, it's worse. It's like I need to breathe you in just to keep you going.”

pairing — criminal dom!jungkook x student sub!femreader

genre — criminal au, dark romance, forbidden attraction, enemies to lovers, murderer!jungkook, stalker!jungkook, innocent shy!reader, virgin!reader, medical student!reader, violence, stalking and obsession, contrast of worlds, crime, thriller, smut, lots of angst, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, angry!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, toxic!jungkook, consensual non consent, emotional vulnerability, trauma bonding, emotional connection, isolation and loneliness, intrusion, romantic gestures, domestic intimacy, fear, power dynamics, d/s dynamics, argument, confrontation, crying, cursing, rough sex, aggressive sexual acts, several non-detailed sexual scenes, spanking, hair pulling, bondage (use of ropes), making out, hickies/marking, bruising, multiple orgasms, fear, pain play, pain and pleasure play, solo female masturbation, masturbation using a teddy bear, degradation, oral sex (f. receiving), eating out, face riding, face sitting, fingering, clit stimulation, cum swallowing, tongue fucking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, dirty talk, praise kink, use of words like "slut" and "whore", body worship, breast play, nipple play and sucking, voyeurism, she gets chased by jungkook, elements of shame but she gets turned on by it, jungkook watches reader masturbate, slight cum and breath play, aftercare, kidnapping, mentions of physical harm

wc — 9.2k

a/n — lmafaosdh y'all are gonna hate me for this chapter ;((

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The air in your apartment was thick with your desperation; a wet sheen clung to your skin as you stepped out of the shower. The steam surrounding you after the hot shower, along with the smell of your floral shampoo.

Your body alive, every part of you pulsating just like your tingling pussy that had been wet constantly, an ache reminding you of the criminal that you swore off your life.

Every bodily reaction of yours occurred with the memory of Jungkook's touch, his rough hands and tongue, made you hate yourself more.

You tried a lot these past few weeks to forget about him, to move on, but every memory of him clung to you stubbornly, you couldn’t get rid of it. You couldn’t focus on studies, couldn’t do anything.

And with each day that need was burning further.

You wouldn’t ever beg for him, or so you told yourself. Yet today you needed release, needed to feel a fraction of how he made you feel.

The innocent girl in you is gone, in place, the temptation took over.

The towel wrapped around you felt suffocating; cheeks flushed from the barrier between you and the need in your core.

You stood in your bedroom, the room dark in the night. The only source of light was the single lamp on the table, giving a faint glow to the room.

The knowledge of what's gonna happen raised goosebumps all over your skin.

You let the towel drop slowly as it pooled at your feet. Your naked body was exposed in the empty room, nipples puckered instantly in the cool air, even the slightest air felt too much on your sensitive skin, and you squeezed your thighs together.

Your pussy dripping with arousal, slickness coating your inner thighs, body constantly craving the euphoric feeling only a certain man could give you

Tonight the silence was there, but you felt him, your body having a mind of its own to know his presence whenever he is near.

Jungkook. Your stalker.

He was watching you from the shadows—his presence undeniable, a dangerous heaviness that made your heart race, your clit throbbing.

Your eyes fell on the large teddy bear he’d given you a few weeks ago. It sat on your bed, being the only witness of your unraveling.

A gift from a monster.

You approached it, your breath hitching as you climbed onto the bed, the sheets dipping under your weight.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the teddy, pulling it to you, fur brushing against your naked skin, which felt like a tease that made you gasp.

You hugged it tightly, your breasts pressing against its softness, nipples grazed its fur, and instantly jolts of pleasure went through you, making you pant.

You dug your nose into the fur, and it felt like it carried a slight scent of him, or you didn’t know if you were going crazy imagining things—cigarettes as always and musk, your pussy clenched.

Your chest heaved as you laid the teddy down and straddled it with a huff, body going on its own, controlled by desire.

Your thighs spread wide, your heat settling against its plush belly, the fur brushing against your sensitive folds. The sensation was immediate and instant—a soft friction that made you moan.

You knew he was there, watching, and the thought felt like a challenge, you were trying to lure in the predator who'd haunted you.

You were the prey, calling him, tempting him enough to break his restraint.

Your hips started rocking slowly, experimentally, fur rubbing against your clit as your slickness soaked into the teddy, shame and embarrassment in the back of your mind, forgotten.

“Jungkook,” you whined, voice trembling as your eyes fluttered shut, giving in to your need.

Your movements grew bolder, hips grinding harder, and the fur was now fully slick with your arousal, providing the perfect friction for your throbbing clit.

Your moans grew louder along with your occasional gasps and whimpers, body trembling as you chased the pleasure.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples aching, needing stimulation and your hands clutched the teddy's fur as if it was his skin, the thought intensifying your pleasure, the teddy helping since you needed to hold onto something.

“Oh God… mmmhah,” you moaned shakily, voice high and desperate with agony as the ache increased, reminding you of his absence.

You imagined him taking you for the first time—eyes dark as he would plunge his thick, hard cock inside you, finally filling you and taking every bit of your sanity.

The thought pushed you closer, your hips started rocking faster and harder, moans now unrestrained and breathy.

“More, more, please, yes.” You sobbed, voice cracking, your nails dug further into the teddy, thighs trembling. The fact that the teddy didn’t tear under the force of your hold shocked you.

Your climax was close, tightening in your belly, head falling back, mouth parted in ecstasy, pussy pulsing harder as your brows were drawn together in pained pleasure.

You were very aware that you were taunting him, calling for him.

In the shadows Jungkook stood, body rigid, cigarette forgotten. His eyes were locked on you, cock hard and straining against his jeans.

The sight of you—naked, needy, fucking his gift—drove him close to a feral animal.

Your body a feast for his eyes, tits bouncing with hard nipples, pussy dripping and soaking the teddy given by him.

He was angry, so very angry; his blood was boiling.

And he was going to make you regret it.

His hand itched to grab you and spank you so hard that you’ll feel it for days, not being able to sit, and he was going to punish you in every unimaginable way possible.

He’d promised to stay away, to let you live, but you were breaking him, piece by piece, with every moan and rock of your hips.

That’s it.

“You little slut,” he snarled, his voice a dangerous rumble as he stormed inside the room, no longer holding back. His sudden presence shocked you enough to stop your movements.

He grabbed your hair, fisting it tightly, pulling your head back, the pain making tears well in your eyes as a scream tore from your throat.

Your eyes flew open, locking into him, few tears escaping, and even in that situation your pussy clenches at the sight of him after his absence for so long—tall, muscular, tattooed hand gripping your hair, his eyes wild with lust.

“My innocent petal,” he growled, face only a few inches away from you, his breath reeking of cigarettes and whiskey.

His hold on your hair not loosening, despite your winches and whimpers as he holds you in the lewd position, you straddling the teddy, arousal very much evident for him to observe.

“Acting like a needy whore, begging to be fucked. You think you can tease me like this? You think you can break me?”

Your breath hitched as hurt flashed through your eyes from his words, with desire, body trembling under his grip. You were exposed, vulnerable, arousal dripping down your thighs, tits heaving.

You hated him, hated yourself.

But the fire in his eyes and the way he gripped your hair so punishingly made you wetter; his words, even though degrading, made you angry, but also made you needy.

You had enough of this, his torment too much in your life.

You summoned every ounce of courage, your hand lashing out and slapping his face, the loud sound echoing in the room.

“Get out!” you screamed, voice raw as tears streamed down your face, body shaking with anger and something else you couldn’t name.

“Leave me alone!”

His head snapped to the side, jaw clenching, eyes darkening to a dangerous black. For a moment he was still, looking at you like a predator sizing up his prey, his anger palpable from where he stood.

Then he released you suddenly, shocking you as his gaze never left you.

You took the chance to quickly scramble off the bed, your naked body glistening with sweat and arousal and your heart pounded with fear.

You ran, bare feet hitting a floor. You ran far away from him, breaths coming out in sharp pants, your mind feeling hazy in fear and need.

The apartment was dark, all lights off, and you couldn’t even see where his presence was, and it increased your terror along with the arousal gathering in between your legs.

You felt exposed running like this in such a bare state, arousal dripping on the floor leaving a trail behind you making it easier for him to find you, and everything was too quiet; you couldn’t hear any noises or his movement that signaled that he was following you.

Your heart beats faster, yet the fear made your clit throb in the same rhythm as your heart.

You stumbled into the living room, body trembling. You glanced back, expecting him to be on you, but he wasn’t.

You knew you messed up this time, big time; you slapped him.

And he was so very angry; you messed with the monster, and he wouldn’t let you escape this time.

Soon you started to hear his heavy footsteps. He moved slowly, his presence a dark promise of what is about to occur, what he is going to do to you, and it made your heart race.

His eyes were intense, his lips curling into a sneer.

“Run all you want, baby,” he purred, voice mocking along with dripping anger, “you know you can’t escape me. You’re mine, and you know it.”

You tripped suddenly, foot catching on the rug, and you fell on your knees on the floor, your breasts bouncing at the process, a gasp falling from between your lips.

A lewd feast for his eyes with you being exposed and scared.

You whimpered as you looked up at the man who was unrecognizable now in anger, towering over you. He growled lowly, the sound primal and he slowly stepped towards you, approaching.

His cock was hard and aching, very much visible with the large bulge straining his jeans. His hands were clenched as he looked down at you, eyes never leaving you—your trembling form, glistening pussy, tits heaving for him only.

And he wanted to keep that sight memorized forever, your fear fueling his desire further.

“You think you can play me?” He said, his shadow now completely covering your form, almost heavily.

“You think you can spread your legs, moan my name, and I'll just break? You’re a fucking tease, and I’m done playing nice.”

You scrambled back, hands slipping on the floor, your heart pounding in fear, tears falling freely.

“It’s time to give you a good lesson for being such a naughty girl.” He coos at you, lips lifting into a slight smirk.

“Look at you, trembling naked and exposed for me, those nipples hard and your pussy dripping sultrily, leaving a trail all over the floor.”

His fingers gestured at your body, making you whimper and look away as you bit your own fist in shame and arousal, his words fueling you more.

“I bet if I spread those thighs of yours, I will find that tight cunt clenching for me, yeah?” He rasped.

You were scared, so scared, but your body betrayed you further and further with his words.

Craving the very monster, you feared

His presence was overwhelming—the smell of his cigarettes, sweat, and rage—surrounding you, making you dizzy.

You wanted to scream, to beg, but your voice was gone, your body under his claim on its own, and your slap had just ignited his growing anger further.

Your back hit the counter, no longer able to back away from him.

You were trapped.

And the knowledge made your heart beat out of your chest, you could see the satisfaction it gave him knowing you had nowhere to go, not being able to escape his wrath.

He crouched, hand reaching for you, his fingers grazing your ankle possessive and slow, like a slow anticipation before attacking fully.

You whimpered, body trembling as you squeezed your thighs together trying to stop the ache.

Your heart screamed for him to take you, to ruin you, even as your mind begged you to run. The tension was cracking between you heavily, his anger and your need mixing together.

And you knew the night was far from over.

You let out a cry, Jungkook didn’t waste any further time, and he picked you up in an instant in the air and threw you over his shoulder, knocking the breath off your chest from how fast it happened.

Your cries filled the quiet room, but he didn’t listen. His hold was tight but not bruising, enough to not give you any place to bulge or breathe.

Your naked body trembled, bare body resting on his shoulder, his hands gripping your ass just a little away from your pussy, and it was too much. Your heart pounded, wondering what he would do to you.

You were slapping and scratching his back, squirming, your body aching from the struggle as you gave up, finally tired.

“I hate you; just let me go!” You sobbed.

The words were like a knife, and they only fueled his rage even more, his grip tightening even more, anger palpable, and your pussy clenched.

Dripping slick right on his shirt, you writhed ashamed, but his animal growl told you otherwise and he started he walked in fast strides, reaching your bedroom.

He tossed you onto the bed; and you fell on the bed with a gasp, the impact caused your breasts to jiggle, his eyes fixed on them. He didn’t wait any longer before moving.

His hands were quick and rough as he pulled out a coarse rope from his pocket and pinned you down in bed with one hand, his strength knocking the breath out of your chest.

He pinned your wrists above your head, used the ropes to tie them to the headboard. The rope was tight, bruising your delicate skin, leaving red marks that stung with every movement.

Your chest heaved as your breath shook, hard nipples begging for attention that you both craved and feared.

Your legs were laid spread due to the force of his hold, pussy swollen under his gaze from the days of unfulfilled need, and it was slowly growing too much to bear.

You were utterly exposed, trapped, and vulnerable to go nowhere, and you felt like a toy that he could use and treat however he wanted, and the realization made your breath hitch in a mix of panic and anticipation.

Jungkook’s eyes roamed all over you with his dark eyes, you didn’t meet his eyes, whimpering as tears spilled on the sheets, and his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched.

“You hate me?” He snarled, the gravel sound vibrated through the room, sending goosebumps all over your skin.

“You think you can say that and get away with it? You’re mine, petal, and you’ll fucking learn it sooner or later.”

His words were full of anger that wrapped around you in a thrilling way.

You whimpered pathetically, body squirming under his intense gaze. It felt like he was touching you and undoing you with his stare alone.

Your slick coated on your thighs was the shameful proof of how his dominance undid you.

He leaned down, breath hot against your neck, lips brushing against your skin, his ragged breaths showing just how affected he was by this as well.

His teeth sank in soon, hard, and the ache was sharp—a sudden burst of pain and pleasure that made you gasp out, “Ahh!”

Your body arches off the bed, wrists pulling against the rope.

He sucked the bitten spot, tongue lapping over the bruised flesh, leaving a deep purple hickey that throbbed along with your racing heart. His weight over you not giving you any space to move at all

He moved like he had all the time in the world, savoring his meal before he went all in on you. He moved to your collarbone, teeth grazing the flesh before he bites again, another mark forming under his mouth, and the sting, along with a dark pleasure, had you moaning.

“Jungkook, please,” you gasped, not knowing if you were begging for mercy or for him to keep going.

He didn’t stop, not paying attention to your words, lips trailing to your breasts, hands rough as he gripped a handful of your tit, cupping it before he squeezed hard enough to make you wince, your nipples hardening further on his palm.

“Nghhh… god,” you whimpered as he leaned down and bit the sensitive skin just above your areola, teeth sinking in, and you cried out a loud, broken sound. Your mind dizzy, not being able to catch up to the pain and the pleasure that he was igniting inside you.

Your body slowly being marked by his hickeys, a brand of his possession, as he soothed each bite and burn with his warm tongue, and the contrast of his roughness and tenderness had you gasping for air, not being able to breathe.

He moved to your other breast, making sure to lavish his attention everywhere. He left a trail of his marks everywhere along with your cleavage, each one a reminder of you being his.

Your chest now covered with red and purple bruises from him as he took his time marking you, while you breathed your whimpers of pain and need

His hand suddenly came down on your ass, delivering a sharp spank that caught you off guard with the pain, and the burn jolted you; your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Oh, fuck Jungkook!” you cried.

The curse slipping out of your mouth made Jungkook growl, hating such words in your sweet mouth. He gripped a handful of your ass and squeezed tightly, voicing his disapproval through actions.

“You like that, hmm?” He gruffed, “My innocent little girl, so fucking needy for a monster.”

Another spank, harder, and it was too much for you to bear; tears spilled as your sobs filled the room, hips bucking instinctively.

The pain was intense, but it melted into a throbbing pleasure that had your arousal drip onto the sheets, arousal pooling onto the sheets, your body trembling.

You sobbed, wrists tugging at the ropes, plush lips open at all times due to the sensation of pain and pleasure, and the sting on your wrists from the rope was adding to the sensory overload.

It felt like your body was alive on sensation only.

Jungkook’s eyes were feral as he got off you, his chest heaving as he saw how your pussy weeping for him, and it drove him a little over the edge of madness. His eyes locked on your face as you lay there panting, even though he hasn’t done anything yet.

He stripped, movements quick and desperate. His underwear went away next, and you gasp seeing him naked for the first time.

Your breath stopped.

His cock sprang free, massive and intimidating, you gripped the headboard, heart thudding that you had nowhere to escape but to take this monster of a man. The veins were pulsing, and the tip was leaking, glistening with precum.

You gasped, eyes widening, fear filling your chest at the sheer size of him and the huge power he held even by doing nothing.

You were seeing his tattoos in their bare beauty for the first time. His body a work of art from the tattoos and full of scars from his past—tattoos all over his chest and abs, hard muscles all over.

Oh God—he was a demon.

And you were his sacrifice.

Your pussy clenched at the thought of him inside you, and you gripped the headboard tighter, something to ground yourself.

He knelt between your legs, hands gripping your thighs and spread them as wide as they would go, you huffed at how exposed you felt, body stretched to its limits, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, leaving bruises that matched the hickeys he gave you.

“Untie me, please, ahh—”

His mouth lowered on your pussy, interrupting your words, and you screamed at the overwhelming feeling, tongue lapping at your clit with a hunger that almost felt violent.

His lips were restless and rough, sucking hard, teeth occasionally grazing your sensitive bud, and you saw stars behind your vision, having no control of your body as he made you feel sensations you didn’t know were possible.

Your hips bucked on his mouth, moans loud and desperate, body writhing under his assault.

“Fuck, my baby... you taste like heaven,” he grunted against your pussy.

Voice muffled, his tongue plunging inside you, fucking you with a rhythm that had you on the edge. His fingers soon joined his tongue, two at first stretching your virgin walls for what's about to come, and you were tight and resistant despite getting finger-fucked by him several times before.

The burn was intense but so fucking good.

He curled them, hitting a spot. “Oh! Mmh—please, Jungkook, it’s too much—” Your cries filled the room, your wrists pulling harder against the ropes, skin cutting in the process.

“I can’t—please!” You sobbed, body shaking as your climax started building.

He didn’t stop.

His tongue kept going, lips sucking your clit until you shattered all over his mouth, pussy gushing, your cries raw and broken.

He hummed satisfied against you but didn’t let up, drawing out every shudder and whimper, eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive, as he drinks in your release like it was his lifeline.

He needed it to survive.

You were now basically drooling all over the pillow, mind hazy and he pulls back, lips glistening, his chest heaving, and you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, eyes burning with something beyond anger—obsession, need, something twisted.

“Say it, petal. Say you’re mine.”

You were panting, body trembling, mind confused with pleasure and fear as your lips moved automatically, submitting to him.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

Your voice shook, heart pounding with your words, knowing it was true and also knowing it was your final undoing.

He growled, satisfied by your answer, his hands gentle now, a huge difference from his earlier roughness.

He untied your ropes, fingers brushing over your raw wrists, his touch soft and almost gentle as tears prick your eyes from his rare softness that is only directed towards you.

A whimper lodged in your throat when he placed a kiss against each of your wrists before he positioned himself between your legs.

His cock at your entrance, his tip teasing your soaked folds.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice a low rumble, his eyes locking on yours, searching for any sign of pain.

You nodded, breath hitching. Your body was tense but ready, pussy aching for him despite all the fear you experienced. You needed him so much.

He pushed in slowly at first, and the tip stretched you; the burn was so intense along with the sharp pain, enough to make you wince, nails digging into his shoulders.

He froze, jaw tight as his eyes looked at yours, soft with concern, a gentleness you’d never seen in him.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice strained as well from the feel of your tight pussy wrapped around him, even though he isn’t fully in yet.

His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing your skin.

“Yes,” you gasped, voice breaking as your body struggled to adjust.

“You are so tight for me, petal, wrapped around me like you were made for me.”

His rough words tightened you around him further, making him groan and he gripped your thigh, shushing you.

He lets you get used to it for a bit, being patient and surprising himself in the process because he doesn’t remember the last time he was even a little bit patient.

The pain soon eased into a strange, pleasurable feeling, and you whined, digging your face into his chest.

“Please, Jungkook….”

He groaned at your request, control fading and he plunged deep in one swift motion, cock filling you, and the stretch was overwhelming, your pussy clenching around him, getting full for the first time, blowing your mind until you felt dizzy.

“Ah hah… Oh God!” You screamed, biting down on his shoulder to keep yourself tethered from the pain.

He didn’t waste any more time as the bed shook, the headboard slammed against the wall from his powerful, relentless thrusts, each one driving him deeper inside you.

He hits spots inside you that you didn’t know existed, and you almost felt him inside your stomach.

His growls were feral, his eyes locked on where you were joined as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy, slick and glistening with your arousal.

“ohs” and “ahs” left your mouth, each noise weeping with each of his thrusts, noises uncontrollable, pleasure and pain mixing together, nails digging into his back leaving marks that only encouraged him to go faster, drilling inside you

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your cries, creating an obscene music that you were sure the neighbors could hear, but you were too high on pleasure to quiet yourself.

“my perfect little girl taking my cock so well” He lashed out his words, hips puncturing each of his words inside you, making you cry further on his shoulder, his anger simmering and obsession consuming him further from the feel of your pussy, finally owning every part of you.

His eyes locked on your face, taking in all your pained and pleasured expressions, never getting enough, his control snapping whenever your eyes would roll at the back of your head whenever he hit that spot inside you.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that? I want to ruin you, keep you, lock you away, and own this slutty cunt so that no one else can have you.”

You wailed, body arching as your orgasm started building again, body weak from all the highs it experienced.

“Jungkook, I'm—I'm going to come!” You let out an agony-filled scream, body shaking as the intensity overwhelmed you.

“Mm, you are close? Come for me then, petal.” He growls, thrusts growing quicker as his hands grip your ass, lifting you to meet his thrusts, balls slapping against your swollen pussy.

“Let me feel you, let me have you.”

His words burned you even more, and you shattered, orgasm ripping through you, pussy gushing around his cock, cries filling the room as your body convulsed.

He kept going, not giving you a break, thrusts relentless as he chased his own release, your pussy milking him.

You were overstimulated, body shaking with aftershocks, and the force of his thrusts started building your second orgasm before you even realized, throat aching from all the noises you let out.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he groans, own voice breaking as his hips slam into you, cock pulsing and he comes, hot and thick release, filling you, his hands holding your hips, not letting you escape.

Your pussy clenched around him, drawing out every drop.

His release triggered yours, and you came again, for the third time tonight, cries broken body trembling and the overstimulation made you sob, tears falling when he slowed, his head dipped, tongue entering your mouth, kissing you, tasting you.

He swallowed your cries as his thrusts gentled, cock barely softened when he pulled out, giving you a break that he knew you needed more than anything. You winched at the emptiness, a surge of your release mixed with his dripped out of you.

The sight made his nostrils flare, wanting to fuck them back inside your gaping cunt, but he knew you already had too much.

Your pussy stretched enough for him, and it was visible before his eyes.

He could fuck you all night long if he wanted, but it was your first time, and he didn’t want to push you beyond your limits.

He collapsed beside you, breath ragged and he pulled you to his chest, his fingers rubbing your red wrists again almost like he felt guilty for hurting them, but there was also a sense of satisfaction in his chest that he was the one that marked you, made you feel pain and pleasure.

Something that only he was allowed to make you feel and no other man

The thought made his hands twitch with the need to kill someone that didn’t even exist.

He focused on you, still panting and drooling on his chest. He carried you to the shower, the water warm and soothing against your achy body.

His eyes were soft while he washed you, cleaning all the release, paying attention to your sore spots, a stark contrast to the monster who’d claimed you moments ago.

You were quiet, body exhausted, your heart heavy too tired to speak as you depended on him completely, letting him do whatever he wanted, being his personal doll.

He wrapped you in a towel once the bathing was over, picking you up in bridal style, not letting you walk or use any of your energy.

Your hand clutched his chest as he laid you back in bed, the soaked sheets changed by him, and the warmness of it made you purr unknowingly.

He stood there looking down at you, eyes unreadable, his expression intense as he looked at you like his possession, you looked up at him clutching the sheets to your breasts, your shyness consuming you once again even though he thoroughly saw and used every part of you.

Even parts that you didn’t know existed yourself

Your body feeling more his than your own

“What do you want from me?” you croaked, eyes searching his, needing answers, needing something to hold onto.

“Why are you doing this?”

His eyes turned dark and haunted at your question, jaw clenching. “I don’t know,” he said, voice raw with an emotion he didn’t understand.

“I don’t know what this is, but I just know that you—you’re mine. I need to have you, whether you want it or not.”

You swallowed, throat tight from his words, body still tingled from his touch, heart torn between fear and a need you hated yourself for not pushing away.

You curled into him when he laid beside you, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart meet the same rhythm as yours, his hand awkwardly resting on your waist, not used to such domestic acts.

But you knew.

His heart, the criminal's heart that was made of stone but one that, in its own broken way, beat for you only.

۶ৎ

The days following Jungkook’s claiming of you were delicate, something that stretched between obsession and something softer.

Something neither of you could name

Your apartment, once hollow and lonely with your presence, was now filled with a new rhythm—his footsteps, his voice, and the faint scent of cigarettes along with musk that lingered in your place permanently.

He was no longer just a shadow in your life; his darkness has folded into your light, something that didn’t belong together.

Yet they mended like they were meant to be.

The weight of his gaze was there constantly, and his frequent touches because he couldn’t stay without touching you even for a minute.

Along with all that, there were several unspoken questions that hung between you, but you didn’t dare bring them up, not wanting to ruin the normality you had with him.

Not wanting him to close the shell he let down for you, even if it hurts.

Your small apartment seemed to shift in order to accommodate him. Your couch, the same one that you treated him on several nights before, had gotten used to him.

It bore the imprint of his broad frame along with his leather jacket that was draped over its arm lazily, laying his claim all over your house in a way that even your place got used to.

The kitchen, where once you’d cooked alone in between study sessions, now carried the memory of him standing at the counter, tattooed hand clumsily chopping vegetables for a meal he insisted on making for you after you forgot to eat.

The sight of his broad frame and muscles flexing as he did something so domestic as cooking, you knew he never did for anyone, made your heart flutter.

Your bedroom with its pink sheets and light-colored walls was no longer just yours—his presence had claimed it, his scent almost permanent on your bed.

His shadow always lingering but now visible for you.

Jungkook was different now; edges still sharp, but there were still moments of vulnerability from him that caught you off guard.

He spoke more, his voice deep and gravelly, always filling the quietness of your life.

You knew that each of this was slowly cracking the stone wall of his heart.

And you were grateful.

By even getting pieces of him

۶ৎ

One evening as the sun dipped, you sat on the couch, knees tucked under you, a medical textbook forgotten on your lap.

Jungkook stood by the window, a cigarette burning between his fingers, smoke curling in the air when he exhaled. His body clad in a black tank top that showed off his hard, muscled body along with his tattoos, the sight making your thighs squeeze together unknowingly.

“Do you ever think about your parents?” He broke the silence, voice almost hesitant, as if the question came out against his will.

You saw the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw clenched as he waited for your answer.

You swallowed, throat tight, his question brings back memories of your loss that never really left you.

“Every day,” you admitted breathily, voice barely there.

“They died when I was sixteen. Car accident. I… I used to think if I’d been with them, maybe I could’ve done something to save them—I don’t know, but I was at school studying for a stupid biology test.”

A whimper left your lips, fingers twisting the fabric of your sweater, helping you to ground yourself against the ache in your chest.

“It’s silly, but I still dream about them sometimes, like they never really left me… like they’re just in the next room, waiting for me.”

“It’s not silly,” he rasped before turning, dark eyes locked onto yours, intense, and for a moment it felt like it was just the two of you and the world disappeared.

Your pulse quickened at his authoritative tone and his need to comfort you, his own eyes holding the trauma of his past.

“Mine didn’t die,” he said bitterly, “they just didn’t want me. Left me on the streets when I was eight, said I was too much trouble. I learned fast that no one’s coming to save you. No one loves you unless you make them.”

He took another drag of his cigarette and looked back outside the window; his words were like a knife in your heart, cutting you further and further.

Oh, Jungkook…

Everyone in his life abandoned him, and that’s why he was here so hardened, so guarded that he stopped believing in life itself, and you realized just how alike both your stories are, yet different.

How he struggled all on his own with no one to lean into—you always thought that you suffered the most, but now hearing his story made you realize exactly how the universe always treated the ones who didn’t deserve it badly.

“I don’t know how to be soft, petal. I don’t know how to be what you need.” His words brought you out of your thoughts.

The nickname—petal—sent a shiver down your spine.

A reminder of how he saw you: fragile, delicate, yet something he couldn’t stop touching.

You stood, bare feet carrying you towards him, your heart pounding. You felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch as he looked directly in your eyes with intensity.

“I don’t need soft,” you crooned, hands shaking slightly. “I just need you to be you, Jungkook. The real you, not the monster you think you are.”

His jaw clenched as he stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He growled, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming for you despite seeing him almost every day now.

He was basically a wall of heat and muscle.

“I’m a criminal, a killer. I've got blood on my hands, and I'll never wash it off. You’re… you’re light, and I’m the dark that’ll destroy you.”

You reach out with your trembling hand, resting it on his hard chest; you can feel his warmth seeping off the fabric of his tank top. His heart pounded beneath your palm, always wild.

“Maybe I want it,” you whispered, voice small as your eyes searched his, shyness gone for the first time, eyes glistening slightly.

“Maybe I’m tired of being alone, of being the good girl who’s always scared. You make me feel alive, Jungkook, even when I'm terrified of you.”

He froze, breath ragged, and for a moment you thought he’d pull away, retreating to his usual nature.

But then his hands were on you, rough and desperate, cupping your face, fingers tracing your features.

His callouses against your soft skin, and you closed your eyes, leaning onto him, body constantly craving him and the rare gentleness he let out sometimes.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he muttered, gruffly, lips a few inches away from yours.

“I don’t believe in love, petal. It’s a fucking lie, a trap for the fools. But this—this thing I feel for you—it's bigger, it's worse. It's like I need to breathe you in just to keep you going.”

Your heart squeezed as tears spilled down your face from his vulnerability. You gripped his wrists, nuzzling on his palm, anchoring yourself to him, your cheeks warm.

“Then breathe me,” you whispered. “I’m here, Jungkook. I'm not running. Not anymore.”

A groan left his lips, pained, and he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you, not the hungry, devouring kind that he gave you before, but something softer and deeper, and it almost melted as deep in as your soul.

You not being used to it.

His lips were warm, tasting of smoke and whiskey as you both got the chance to explore each other without rushing anything, his tongue gentle while he explored your mouth, coaxing soft whimpers from you.

The room spun, the distant hum of the city fading until it was just him—his heat, his taste, his heartbeat against yours.

He pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours, your hand clutching his top.

“I don’t know how to do this.” He rasped, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache. “I don’t know how to be close to someone without breaking them.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, dark strands soft and thick, his eyes falling closed with brows furrowed together, an act you found out that he loved with no words spoken, something that steadied him to reality.

“I’d rather be broken by you than whole with you.” Your voice shook as you finalized

He growls, a sound of frustration and need, pulls you into his arms tightly, almost suffocating you.

You buried your face in his chest, leaving tear stains onto the fabric, the steady thump of his heart comforting you.

His scent enveloped you like always, so uniquely him, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

۶ৎ

Over the next few days, he showed you pieces of himself, of a man shattered by the cruel world, and you knew how hard it was for him to even give those fragments.

He took you to his cabin in the forest, the same forest where he took you that day to give you the best day of your life. The air and environment here were very different than what you were used to. The air smelled of earth and wood, trees surrounding you everywhere.

His place was very different compared to yours, walls lined with shelves of some books and mostly several weapons. It lacked any furniture or accessories.

The place just seemed livable, but it was void of any life… something that suited Jungkook

A single bed sat in the corner; dark sheets rumpled from his restless nights. The fireplace was casting a warm glow over the room, and his smell was even heavy here, surrounding you with him in his own world.

He told you about his past, each word a wound laid bare for you to see, his voice low and halting.

“I was a kid when they left me,” his deep voice uttered, sitting on the cabin's porch, you beside him as you both looked at the night sky adorned with stars.

His leather jacket was slung over your shoulders because he knew how easily you get cold.

“didn’t even look back. I survived because I had to, because I learned to fight, to take what I needed. The streets don’t care about you—they’ll eat you alive if you let them.”

He lit a cigarette as you looked at him, admiring his rough beauty that was full of scars telling his story without any words.

“No one ever loved me, petal. Not my parents, not the gangs I ran with. I'm not built for it, and I cannot give it to anyone.”

Your knees draw up as you hug them, your body leaning against his shoulder, both of you hearing the chirp of crickets.

“I understand,” you said, softly, “my parents loved me, but they’re gone, and I’ve been alone ever since. We’re not so different, you and I. We both know what it is like to lose everything.”

His eyes met yours, dark and searching, and for a moment you saw the boy he’d been, the one who’d begged for love and found only betrayal.

Your heart hurt in a way you didn’t know was possible, heart bleeding for the young boy he had once been.

“You’re wrong,” he grunts, voice almost angry, “you’re still soft, still good. I'm… I'm a fucking mess, baby. I’m tainted with blood, and you—you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

You reached for his hand, fingers small against his, as his hand gripped yours tightly.

“Then let me hold you together.” Your voice trembled with emotion. “I don’t care if you’re a mess, Jungkook. I don’t care if you’re a criminal, a monster. I see you, and I'm not afraid.”

He pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you as your legs circled his waist, his breath hot against your neck, leaving small, open-mouthed pecks that had you shivering with parted lips, your head falling back slightly.

Your breasts pressed against him, both your hearts racing together, connected.

“You should be afraid,” he murmured, lips brushing your earlobe before biting it making you moan.

“I could ruin you, petal. I could break you, and I wouldn’t even mean to.”

You pulled his face away from your neck and cupped his face, his skin warm, and you felt the tension in him. He was in a war between his need to protect you and his need to possess you.

“I’m not asking for soft Jungkook. I'm asking for you.” You croaked.

He kissed you hungrily, his fingers sliding under your shirt, tracing your soft skin before he undressed you with an urgency.

The porch creaked underneath you both as he made love to you under the starry night. The sounds of the forest mingle with your breathy moans and whimpers along with his occasional groans.

You melted into him, body against his hardness, your heart finally open to his darkness.

۶ৎ

In the days that followed, he did things for you—small acts that spoke louder than words.

He’d make your coffee just the way you liked it and making sure to serve it to you in your favorite pink mug, especially during your late-night study sessions.

He never stopped the habit of leaving you pink roses even though now he was very much into your life. He’d leave pink roses on your pillow every morning, the sweet smell reminding you of the days when he’d stalk you, how it terrified you yet excited you.

One night you fell asleep on the couch, your head in his lap, and he stayed didn’t move you away or remove himself, his fingers stroking your hair, touch awkward but meaningful in a way only for you.

He didn’t know how to cuddle, didn’t know how to be gentle, but he always tried, fingers trembling as he held you, his heart full of fear and want for you.

۶ৎ

“You’re making me soft,” he muttered one morning, standing in the kitchen, hair messy from sleep, only wearing underwear after a night of intense passion.

His body still adorned with your scratch and bite marks, something that happens when he drives you closer to madness with the pleasure and pain.

You blush and avert your gaze, focusing on stirring the sugar into your tea. The regular routine you both fell into gave you a peace you’d never known.

“Maybe you were always soft.” You teased with a small giggle, but your voice turned serious: “You probably just needed someone to see it.”

He scoffed, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something close to hope.

“Don’t get your expectations up, petal,” he said gruffly, stepping closer and pulling you to his chest with a yank, making you gasp as you held onto his bare chest. “I’m a bastard. Always will be.”

“And I’m still here,” you huffed, heart laid bare for him easily.

“So, deal with it.”

He laughed, a rare genuine sound that warmed the room, and he suddenly picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder, making you let out a scream as both your hearty laughs filled the air while he carried you back to the room.

You knew he was a criminal; he had blood on his hands, had no mercy, but you saw something beneath that.

You saw a man, the one who cared, who made you feel alive, who knew what you liked and disliked, memorized the small details of your life, and who would burn anything and anyone just to see you smile.

And you cherished it, every moment, every rose, and every awkward touch because it was him—your Jungkook.

Your home.

۶ৎ

The night was alive as you returned from a bike ride with Jungkook. Your heart a bubble of joy from the experience, the freedom that only he brought into your life.

His kisses, fierce and consuming, still clung to your lips along with the memory of his hands on your body that left you breathless, claiming you with all of him.

He’d promised to take you to classes tomorrow and to watch you sleep, his presence a twisted comfort you’d come to crave.

But then he’d said he had to leave for “work.” The word twisted something inside you.

It wasn’t unusual for him to sometimes leave to deal with something that he’d never mention to you, no matter how much you insisted, saying it’s better if you don’t know and saying you are too soft for it.

It wasn’t the promise of his return that unsettled you—it was something else, you couldn’t explain, as if the word carried a weight of something that you couldn’t fathom.

It didn’t happen before; you never felt like this before he left.

A chill settled in your bones, a bad feeling you couldn’t shake as you watched him ride away, the roar of his bike soon fading.

You stood outside your apartment for a minute as you hugged Jungkook’s hoodie tighter around you, oversized fabric swallowing your frame, smelling of his very presence.

Your fingers clutched the fabric, heart still racing from the ride, his touch, and the way he’d made you feel alive in a world that often felt too heavy.

Now that he was gone, that dread returned as you moved slowly, climbing the stairs to your apartment, bringing out your keys.

The moment you pushed open the door, the air suddenly felt heavy and wrong, like someone had invaded it. Your apartment, that was usually warm, was replaced by a stillness.

The scent hit you first—not Jungkook's familiar cigarettes or musk but something else, something like rust or blood.

Your pulse quickened in fear as you breathed shakily, gripping your hoodie closer, the fabric shielding you against the growing terror.

Your breath hitched as your eyes scanned all over the space, the couch, and your room.

Nothing was out of place—no overturned furniture or broken things—but the wrongness was very palpable, and it was making your skin crawl.

You took a small step forward, hands trembling as your fingers fumbled for the light switch, wanting to turn it on, but before you could reach it—a creak.

Your blood ran cold, body freezing, eyes fixed in the darkness, and you swore you heard a low, guttural chuckle, and it was enough to make your knees buckle in fear.

“Jungkook?” You whispered, hoping with all your might it was him, that he came back and didn’t leave you and was just playing a silly prank on you.

But the silence that followed was worse, and you knew deep in your gut that it wasn’t him.

This wasn’t his darkness, his twisted devotion.

This was something else, something that wanted to hurt you.

You backed away, your heart pounding, breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. Your mind screaming at you to run, call for help, but your feet remained still, frozen in fear and knowing that if you decided to run, it would worsen the situation.

The creak came again, closer now. Your scream lodged in your throat as a man stepped into the light.

He was enormous, towering over you. There was a big scar on his face that looked like a slash from a knife, his teeth crooked as he looked at you.

His lips curled into a smirk, revealing yellow teeth that sent a wave of nausea through you, stomach twisting as you stumbled back, hip hitting the couch.

“So Jungkook’s been preying on you, little girl,” he said voice dripping with malice and he took another step forward. “Guess his priorities changed, huh? He got himself all soft for a pretty little thing like you. But it's time to take his silly little pet away.”

His words stole the air from your lungs, body shaking beyond your will.

Your mouth opened, Jungkook’s name a desperate plea on your lips, a scream for the man who’d claimed you, who’d promised to protect you… one that you feared in the past but now you desperately needed it.

“No, please,” you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you shook your head. “Who are you—"

He laughed, a harsh sound that made your skin prickle with disgust. “Oh, how cute, you’re begging already,” he taunted, eyes raking over your frame.

“He’s got you all wrapped up, doesn’t he? But Jungkook’s not here, sweetheart, and I’m not as patient as he is.”

Your knees gave out, sinking onto the floor, hands scrambling to find something, anything, to defend yourself, but there was nothing—only the rug beneath your fingers, the door at an impossible distance.

Your tears fell as your chest heaved, trying to breathe against the terror paralyzing you further.

“Why?” You choked out, “What do you want? I don’t know anything, I swear. I—”

He crouched down, face level with yours, his breath making you want to throw up.

“I want Jungkook to hurt,” he said, voice venomous.

“He’d been like a thorn in my side too long, thinking he’s untouchable, hiding behind his little obsession with you. But you—you’re his weakness, aren’t you? Break you, and I break him.”

He laughed loudly, and your heart shattered, the realization falling over you. You were a weapon held against Jungkook, and the thought of him—dark eyes, his broken heart—being hurt because of you was unbearable.

“No,” you sobbed.

He lunged faster than you could react, his hand clamping over your mouth as you screamed beneath his hand.

“Shut up,” he snarled, his other hand gripping your arm, yanking you to your feet. Your body thrashed, screams muffled, but he was too strong, his strength bruising you.

He laughed, his fingers tightening.

“Fiery little thing,” he mocked, “Jungkook trained you well, didn’t he?”

You bit his hand hard, teeth sinking into his flesh, and he roared, releasing you, and you stumbled back vision blurring with tears, your mind set on getting to Jungkook, wanting him to come protect you like he has always done.

You turned to run, feet slipping as your hands finally reached the door, for freedom, for him.

But the man was faster, his arms wrapping around your waist, a sob of fear and pain escaping you as he backhanded you hard enough that it split your lips, blood dripped as the metallic taste filled your mouth.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, your mouth opened for another scream, voice raw, body shaking as you fight with all you can, nails clawing at his arm, drawing blood.

But the man only laughed at your weak attempt, his hand reared back carrying something heavy, and before you know it, a sharp, blinding pain exploded in your head, consuming you.

Your vision blurred, the world fading as you fell on the floor.

Your last thought was of Jungkook—his promise, his obsession—and the hope that he’d find you before it was too late.

Everything went black, Jungkook’s name a whisper on your lips.

────

taglist: @wintaemoonjen @minewlove @chaelvrx @nanisblogg @slutology00 @kelsyx33 @furioustrashlover @jjeonjjk7 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @asyr97 @ttanniett @bratzdaull @yunhoswrldddd @jeonzll @endlesslysassy @elmarimochi9513 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lisax-30 @moodytangerine @taetaecatboy @katwiththatrat @yikes-ukiyo @minimoninini @lachimolalajeon @flutterguk @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @universallywizardkoala @kookxin @mageprincess7 @satisfied18 @existentialzaddy @strawberryberrygirl @tranquilreign @honeybearmin @melooooosusupp @thvflowr @jimineepaboya @granataepfelchen @cherricherryy @tatamicc @minghaosimp @kooko009 @clrwonuu @withmuchluv-tannie

[aaclariww]

some yoongi gifs until he comes back home (51/79)

28 days left

[aaclariww]

aqua this broke me up i loved this so much the emotions were so real 😭😭😭 like OMG YES SHE GOT IN like she my baby and yoongi also my baby this whole thing feels like there is indeed hope on the streets yk? 😭😭😭😭😭

best laid plans | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x f!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You meet Min Yoongi at a GS25 on a nothing Tuesday. You don't expect him to change your life. You certainly don't expect to change his.

✧ TAGS: strangers to lovers, angst (with a happy—but hopefully realistic—ending), smut, fluff, this is a heavy one so please heed the warnings!

✧ WARNINGS: mental health issues, depression, depressive episodes, suicidal ideation throughout, suicide mentions throughout, implied suicide attempt (sort of?), panic attacks, specifically panic attacks after (consensual!) sex, smoking, recreational marijuana use, vaginal fingering, oral (m. receiving), oral (f. receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of unprotected sex (but no real unprotected sex), MINORS DNI, please do not read this fic if any of these warnings are triggering to you!

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay. so... i said i wasn't going to post any more fics until june. and i won't post any more until then after this! i'm still on semi-hiatus! but something happened in my personal life last week, and i couldn't... not get it all out, somehow. so... here's this almost 14k monster. thank you claret @yoonmetogether for beta reading and giving me so much love and support while i was in the process of writing this! i love you! and thank you yoongi, for writing/releasing so far away (and the last) in 2016 and teaching teenage aqua how to stay, even when i didn't want to. and teaching adult aqua the same thing every year since. i hope this fic helps someone. that's why i'm posting it.

P.S. i recognize that i haven't edited my taglist since my hiatus. if you want to be removed, let me know.

✧ WORDCOUNT: 13.6k words

It’s a Tuesday night, which means nothing. Just like Monday meant nothing. Just like Wednesday won’t either.

The buzzing fluorescent lights in the 24-hour convenience store stutter overhead. You’ve been zoned out in the ramen aisle for at least five minutes now, doing the same song and dance you always do. Pretending you’re going to try something different this time, be a little spontaneous. Because you must break the pattern today or the loop will repeat tomorrow, right?

Still, though, your hand hovers over the same one you always get—the spicy one in the black package that scorches your mouth and makes your nose run. But at least it makes you feel something. So, you grab it.

Into the basket it goes, landing beside a bottle of Milkis and a crumpled bag of gummy worms. You sigh, turn around—

—and nearly walk straight into some guy you didn’t even know was in the store.

You both do that awkward side-step thing, freeze, then side-step the same way again.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” the guy mutters, voice low and scratchy, like it hasn’t been used yet today.

He’s wearing an oversized hoodie, the drawstrings uneven. His hair, bleach blonde, is tucked messily under a beanie, and there’s a faint line on his cheek from what was clearly a very intense nap. He’s holding a can of cold coffee and a pre-packaged egg sandwich in one hand, clutched between long fingers.

His eyes flick up to yours, and you realize, belatedly, that you’re staring. You should probably move, or say something.

“No, I—sorry,” you say, taking a step back. Your basket clinks against your knee. “Didn’t see you.”

Both of you are still kind of in each other’s way. There’s that weird, hesitant pause where you’re not quite sure who’s supposed to move next.

You clear your throat, nodding at his sandwich. “Midnight craving?”

“Something like that,” he says, eyes flicking down to the ramen in your basket. “You going for pain, huh?”

You blink, then smile a little. You didn’t expect him to be game. “Only the kind I can control.”

That makes him huff a short laugh through his nose. “Hey, no judgment. I’m out here buying coffee at midnight, so.”

You nod toward the sandwich again. “And that. Bold choice.”

“I wasn’t ready to commit to tuna.”

“Fair.”

It feels dangerously like flirting, just for a second. Awkward, clumsy flirting, sure, but flirting nonetheless. But the moment ends just as quickly as it came, like you’ve both run out of things to say at the exact same time.

You awkwardly step in opposite directions after that.

You return to your mission. First, hot water from the machine by the coffee counter. Plastic fork from the stack that’s always slightly sticky. You sit on one of the cracked stools by the window while the noodles steep and sip from your Milkis while staring out at the empty street.

By the time you make it to the register, the guy is gone. You kind of expected that. 

He was cute, you think. A year ago, when you were a different girl and sort of had your shit together, you probably would’ve asked for his number. Batted your eyelashes or something stupid like that.

But now? You barely have the energy to brush your teeth most days. You’re certainly not in a place for romance. Not when your big life plan has boiled down to ‘survive one more month.’ 

So no, you’re not mourning the possible missed connection with the kind-of-cute stranger in the GS25. Just acknowledging it.

But then, when you’ve paid and make a move to shuffle out, the automatic doors slide open—and there he is. 

Again. Leaning against the low brick wall, trying to light a cigarette with the wind working against him. The flame sputters out twice before catching.

You could leave. You should. But you linger, and since the street is pretty much desolate, he notices.

“Didn’t mean to loiter behind you,” he says, glancing up.

You shrug. “Didn’t mean to run into you. Twice.”

He waves his free hand dismissively, the other bringing the cigarette to his lips, plastic bag dangling precariously. “No harm done.”

That should be it, probably. End of conversation, end of interaction. Two strangers walk in opposite directions to wherever it is they call home.

But something about the slump in his shoulders, so similar to your own, makes you momentarily brave.

“You got somewhere to be?” you ask, gnawing at your bottom lip.

“Does it look like it?”

It doesn’t. Neither do you.

“Wanna sit?” you offer, gesturing towards the curb. “I’m just gonna eat before it gets cold.”

His eyes widen, like that’s the last thing in the world he expected you to say.

“Uh. Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

You sit. He settles a little awkwardly beside you, pulling the sandwich out of its crinkled plastic. It’s predictably silent between you, but you don’t hate it.

He eats. You slurp noodles.

And eventually, inevitably, you glance sideways.

Okay. He is cute. Decidedly. Maybe even hot, if you caught him on a better day. In a bleary, worn out way. The kind of good looks that sneak up on you, delicate and masculine all at once. Pale skin. Sharp jaw. Soft mouth. You’re not going to do anything about it. Obviously. But… still.

“What’s your name?” you ask around a mouthful of noodles.

“Yoongi.”

You nod. Don’t offer yours yet.

Yoongi takes another bite of his sandwich. Swallows. “You here often?” he asks, immediately grimacing. “God. That sounded—"

“Like a line?” You laugh. “Yeah. It did.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

You shrug. “I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

Small talk comes easy after that. You find out he used to live on the other side of the river and only recently moved to this part of the city because of a roommate situation that imploded. You tell him that you only planned to live in your current apartment for a year, until you could afford something better. It’s been three now.

He tells you he’s currently between jobs. You admit you’re technically not sure if you still have your night gig, because your boss hasn’t texted you in three days and you don’t want to ask.

He gives you the remaining half of his sandwich. You pass over your ramen wordlessly, letting him steal a few bites. It’s still awkward, eating so closely with a stranger like this. Sharing your dinner with someone who doesn’t even know your name. But it’s weirdly nice.

When the food is mostly gone, he holds out his cigarette pack. You take one and he lights it for you. You both pass it back and forth in silence for a minute.

“I used to think I’d be famous by now,” he says eventually, exhaling toward the gutter. “Like, not stupid-famous. Just… enough that I wouldn’t be here. You know?”

You nod. You do know. 

“I wanted to be a writer,” you offer in return. “But I hate writing. And I hate people who are good at it. And I hate that I still kind of want to do it anyway.”

“I don’t even know what I do anymore,” he says. “I was making music for a while. Then I got tired. Now I sleep too much. Avoid my friends. Pick up shifts at my cousin’s record store when he gets desperate enough to ask.”

“That actually sounds kind of nice.”

He snorts. “It’s not. But thanks.”

You tip your head back, look up at the sky, which is a washed-out navy and completely starless. Seoul smog. “I work part-time at a bookstore that almost exclusively sells erotica. And I cry like, three times a week, minimum. Usually in the bathroom. Sometimes in front of customers.”

Yoongi flicks ash onto the ground. “You win.”

You both sit with it. The warm, awful food. The too-sweet soda and the gummy worms melting in the bag between your knees. The companionship of a stranger willing to share a cigarette and half of his shitty sandwich, whose life isn’t all that different from yours.

You turn your heads at the same time. Your eyes flick down to his lips where they’re sealed around the cigarette. Inhale, exhale. To his long fingers, thumbnail bitten to shit. 

He’s really pretty, even like this, in the unflattering light of the streetlamp you’re sitting under. Long lashes and dark eyes that pierce through you. You wonder if his mouth really is as soft as it looks.

He’s looking at your lips, too, you realize. When you catch him, he looks away fast, ears pink.

“This is nice,” he says, staring at the concrete beneath his shoes.

You blink. Then, just as quietly, “Yeah. It is.”

He offers the cigarette again. You take it. Neither of you says anything else for a long time.

✧

The bookstore has been blissfully, predictably dead since you opened this morning. That’s really the only upside of the job—nobody shows up. You could count the regulars on one hand, and half of them only come in to use the bathroom, despite the clearly posted sign that says they can’t.

You’ve developed a theory about it, about the shame that still lingers around buying erotica in person. As if reading about sex is fine, but purchasing it in the flesh is something to feel embarrassed about. You could write a dissertation on it, probably. But you won’t. You don’t write anymore. You just clock in, count the till, and reorganize displays no one looks at.

You’ve already done your morning routine. Opened up. Counted money. Packed a frankly alarming number of online orders (apparently people really love vampire erotica). Now, you’re posted up behind the counter, flipping through a paperback about sexy cowboys with a bright red cover and a title that would make your mother blush.

You’re in the middle of counting how many times the author uses the word member on one page (six, and one was throbbing) when the bell above the door gives its half-hearted ding.

You glance up from the counter, fully prepared to give your standard ‘we don’t have a public bathroom’ spiel, when you see him. Hoodie. Messy, bleached hair. Soft mouth.

Yoongi.

Your mouth actually falls open a little. You eventually gave him your name that night, but you hadn’t exchanged numbers. You didn’t even follow each other on social media. And yet, here he is, bearing witness to you in all of your smut-peddling glory.

“I guessed,” he says, by way of explanation. He sounds a little breathless. “You said bookstore, and there’s like, two in the area. The other one didn’t have nearly enough erotica.”

“So you just… showed up?” 

He shrugs, sheepish. “You didn’t give me your number.”

If he wasn’t cute, you might be a little creeped out. He’s lucky he’s got such a nice face. It makes things feel romantic. 

“You want something?” you ask, gesturing to the wide variety of bodice-rippers your manager has displayed so proudly at the register.

“Yeah,” he says. “A cigarette. And maybe to talk to you again.”

You exhale through your nose, amused despite yourself. “Come on.”

You lead him through the back, past the haphazard ‘Employees Only’ sign that no one respects. Outside, the alley smells like stale piss. Very romantic, indeed.

Just like Tuesday, he lights a cigarette for you to share. You take it, and he leans against the brick wall, watching you.

“I kept thinking about you all week,” he says suddenly, no preamble. His eyes are fixed on the smoke curling off the end of the cigarette. 

You take a drag, the smoke clinging to your teeth. “I thought about it too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your shoes. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up, though.”

He gives a quiet little laugh, almost self-deprecating. “Honestly, I almost didn’t.”

“So why did you?”

“I don’t know. Stubbornness? Hope? Boredom?” He shrugs. “I guess I just didn’t want to go another week without feeling like something mattered. Even if it’s just a conversation in a piss alley.”

That earns a smile from you. A real one. You pass the cigarette back.

“I don’t know what this is,” he says eventually. “I don’t even know if I’m in a place to have a thing. But I liked talking to you. And I’m tired of not liking anything.”

You look at him. He’s not exactly looking back, more at the space near your shoes. But his profile is soft, a little hopeful.

“I feel the same way,” you say, cheeks hot and heartrate climbing. Something you haven’t felt in a long time—not for good reasons, at least.

He smiles. It’s small, but it feels real.

“You’re gonna give me your number this time, right?”

You dig your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him.

He types in his number one-handed, cigarette dangling from the other, then calls himself so he has yours too. When it buzzes in his hoodie pocket, he hums like that settles something. Like now, technically, you belong to each other in some tiny way.

You take the cigarette back from him. Your fingers brush, knuckles stay touching longer than they should.

“You’re not gonna ghost me now that you’ve won the chase, right?” you murmur.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “You think that was a chase?”

You shrug. “It was something.”

For a moment, you just stand there in the alley. The world keeps moving, traffic hums in the distance. Your shitty boss is probably inside wondering why you’ve been gone more than the regulation five minutes.

But you don’t move.

You look at him. His mouth. The cigarette between your fingers. And your body makes a decision your brain is too tired to argue with.

You lean in and kiss him.

It’s clumsy at first. Your lips a little dry, the angle off, but it doesn’t matter. He makes a sound like a surprised exhale against your mouth and then he’s kissing you back, slow and warm and honest.

He tastes like smoke and canned coffee. You drop the cigarette and his hand finds your jaw. Your fingers reach for the edge of his hoodie, twisting in the fabric like you’re worried he’ll disappear if you don’t hold on.

You kiss him again. And again.

You’re not trying to make it romantic, really. You’re not trying to make it anything. It’s just—fuck, it’s been so long since someone touched you like this. Since someone wanted to.

And Yoongi kisses like he wants to be anywhere but alone. Like he gets it.

When you finally pull back, both of you a little dazed, he lets out a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh. “Okay,” he says, voice rough. “So… this is happening.”

You nod, heart hammering. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“I won’t.”

And he kisses you again, one more time for the road, hands on your hips like maybe he needs the grounding just as badly as you do.

Yoongi leaves around the back and you go back inside like nothing happened.

But he leaves with your number, and you can still taste him on your lips.

✧

Weeks pass, but you both take full advantage of having each other’s numbers.

You text mostly during lulls, when you’re hiding behind the register pretending to alphabetize the books, or when Yoongi’s stuck in the back room of the record store sorting the new arrivals.

You never say good morning or good night. It’s not like that. But he sends you photos of weird album art, and you respond with blurry selfies surrounded by piles of books with egregious titles.

There’s comfort in the ease of it. No pressure. Just a quiet thread tying your days together.

You: someone asked if we have a bathroom and when i said no they said “then what do you do?” like they wanted me to shit in front of them for proof

Yoongi: People are the worst. Come work here. The pay is shit but at least no one talks to me

Sometimes you send voice notes instead of typing because you’re too tired, and he never comments on how drained you sound. He just sends one back where his voice is raspy and low and he’s clearly half-asleep but trying anyway.

It’s not dating, but it’s not not dating. You’re not friends, not exactly, but you care, at least a little, about whether he eats. Whether he sleeps. Whether he means it when he says he’s fine. 

It’s just whatever the two of you are capable of giving right now. Somehow, that’s enough.

It’s nearly midnight when your phone buzzes.

Yoongi: You up?

Yoongi: Don’t say anything about how that sounds btw

You stare at it for a second. Then you type:

You: i am. what’s up?

You: and yes i’m going to make fun of you anyway

You: is this a booty call

Three dots bubble up and disappear. Once, twice, three times.

Yoongi: I just want to see you

Yoongi: Is that okay?

You sit up, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest.

You could say no. You could ask why. You could point out the hour, claim you have work in the morning. But you haven’t seen him since the day you exchanged numbers (and saliva), so instead, you say:

You: yeah

You: come over

You send him your address. Twenty minutes later, he shows up, in the same hoodie as last time. Holding a plastic bag with canned coffee for him, Milkis for you, and a package of cookies you once mentioned liking in a text two weeks ago.

You don’t say anything at first. He holds up the bag like it’s proof that he should be allowed inside, and you take it with a soft, bemused snort. Then you step aside so he can come in.

He enters like someone trying not to wake a sleeping house—careful and quiet and unsure of what to do with his hands.

You close the door behind him. You both fidget for a second.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says finally, standing just inside the doorway, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Kept thinking about you.”

Your heart tips, like it’s leaning closer to him whether you let it or not.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” you admit softly.

And then, because it’s late and you’re lonely and he’s warm and real and here, you kiss him. Again.

It’s immediate this time. No fumbling. No hesitation. Just mouths pressing together like they’re picking up where you left off in the alley behind the bookstore. His hands find your waist. Yours cup his face, thumbs brushing the sharp edges of his cheekbones. You kiss him slow, then faster. Harder.

You don’t think about what it means. You don’t try to label it. You just let yourself feel it—the weight of his body, the sound of your breaths, the sudden, startling relief of being touched.

His mouth trails to your jaw. Your neck. His hoodie bunches in your fists.

When you finally pull back, both of you flushed and breathless, he presses his forehead against yours.

“I like you,” he says quietly.

You swallow around the knot in your throat and nod. “Kiss me again.”

There's a sharpness to the way your mouths move now. You tug at his hoodie, fingers slipping under the hem to touch skin, and he makes a sound against your lips, small and desperate.

Yoongi’s hands are everywhere. Gripping your waist like he’s trying to ground himself, sliding up your back, curling in your shirt like he can’t bear to let go. He presses you up against the door, urgent, and you gasp when his teeth graze the underside of your jaw.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breathing hard. “I’m sorry—I didn’t come here for this, I just—”

“Don’t stop,” you say, voice barely there. “I want this.”

That undoes him a little. You feel it in the way his mouth crashes back to yours, the way he exhales sharply through his nose like he’s already drunk on it. He kisses you hard, lips and teeth and tongue with no finesse.

His thigh slips between yours and you move against it, just enough to chase friction, just enough to let him feel how badly you want this too.

“Jesus,” he whispers, low and raw. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You tilt your head back and let him mouth at your throat, lips wet, sucking a bruise into the skin. Your hips roll down again, slow and deliberate, and Yoongi’s breath stutters.

“I missed this,” you admit, half-ashamed. “I missed being touched. I missed wanting someone.”

Yoongi lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes heavy, expression unreadable.

“You’re not the only one,” he says.

And then he kisses you again, deep and dizzying, and slips a hand beneath your waistband. His fingers are warm against your skin. Tentative at first, like he's giving you a chance to stop him, even now. Like some small, rational part of him is still waiting for you to say, ‘don’t.’ But you don’t. You tilt your hips forward instead, breath catching, and he exhales like that’s all the permission he needs.

He pushes his hand into your underwear and groans when he feels how wet you are. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re so—fuck.”

It’s been a long time since someone touched you like this. Since someone wanted you like this. Desperate but gentle, afraid of messing it up. His fingers slide through your slick heat and you let out a sharp breath, clinging to his shoulders, your forehead pressed to his.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you whisper, already dizzy. “This is—fuck—this is embarrassing.”

Yoongi huffs a soft, broken laugh. “Don’t care. Come for me. Come fast. I want to feel you lose it.”

He fucks you with his fingers slow, then fast, then slow again. Just enough pressure to make you tremble, to make you cry out softly into his hoodie. His thumb finds your clit, and you nearly sob from the shock of it.

“Yoongi—” you breathe, hands scrambling for purchase. “I—fuck—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just like that. Let me have it. I got you.”

You come fast. Hard. Pathetically hard. Your body locks up and then shudders violently, mouth open against his collarbone, heart pounding like it’s trying to claw out of your chest. Yoongi holds you through it. Doesn’t say anything. Just lets you ride it out with his mouth pressed to your temple, breathing you in.

When it’s over, you’re shaking. Barely upright. He eases his hand out of your underwear and presses a kiss to your hairline, tender in a way that makes your eyes sting.

You bury your face in his neck. 

“I can’t believe I let you finger me against my front door,” you mumble, mortified as you catch your breath.

“Can’t believe you invited me to,” he replies, grinning against your skin.

You both laugh. Quiet and shaky and a little shellshocked. You’re still leaning into him, your breath evening out, your body boneless. The high is fading, but the warmth he left behind is stubborn.

You lift your head, eyes still a little glazed, and give him a suspicious squint.

“I have a question,” you say.

Yoongi blinks, cautious. “Shoot.”

“How the fuck are you not getting laid constantly?”

His eyebrows shoot up. Then he laughs, quiet but full-bodied, like he’s genuinely caught off guard.

“I mean,” you continue, gesturing vaguely to your crotch, “that was—God. And I didn't even know if you’d be good at it! Like, I kind of assumed it would be decent, because you have a mouth and hands and a pulse—but that was fucking criminally good. Who taught you that? Why is this not a more widely available service?”

Yoongi presses his face into your shoulder and groans, laughing harder now. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m just saying, someone out there is missing the opportunity of a lifetime.”

He finally lifts his head again, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Yeah, well. Most people don’t really stick around long enough to find out.”

That sobers you a little.

You study him—his messy hair, his blown pupils, the way he tries to play it off with a little shrug. But there’s something underneath it all. Not sadness, exactly. Loneliness, maybe.

You reach up and brush your fingers through his bangs, almost absently. “They’re idiots.”

Yoongi watches you for a moment. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t deflect. Just leans into your touch. 

And then the quiet gets to you, makes you want to crawl out of your skin, so you say:

“So… uh… want me to suck your dick?”

Yoongi freezes. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“...Right now?”

“No,” you say dryly. “Next Thursday.”

He laughs. “Are you always like this?” he asks, amused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You ignore him and reach for the waistband of his sweatpants instead, fingers slipping under, deliberate and slow. “So?”

Yoongi exhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Fuck. Yeah, I want you to.”

His head tips back when you start kissing down his neck. His breath goes shallow. The way he touches you, light on the back of your neck, like he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this—it makes you want to give him everything all of a sudden.

So you drop to your knees in your entryway, hitting the floor with a quiet thud that echoes in the quiet. Yoongi looks down at you in amazement, eyes wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast.

You tug his sweats down and he helps, fingers twitching against the fabric, thick cock already hard and leaking at the tip.

“You’re serious,” he says, voice thin. Disbelieving.

You glance up at him, smirking. “That a problem?”

“Not even a little.”

You spit into your palm, spread it over the head, and he twitches in your grip. When you lean in and lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, Yoongi lets out a quiet, broken sound.

You’re a little rusty, but you don’t tease. You don’t take your time. You just sink your mouth down around him, spit-slick and sloppy. 

“Fuck—” 

Yoongi’s head knocks lightly against the wall. One hand finds the back of your head, loose and shaking like he doesn’t know whether to pull you closer or hold you still.

You bob your head faster, messier. Let your saliva drip down over your fingers, curled around the base of his cock while you work the rest with your mouth. He groans again, choked and startled, and you feel him twitch in your palm.

“Jesus, you’re gonna—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

You hum around him. That does it.

He gasps. Buckles a little. Then pulls back. Not all the way, just enough to jerk himself through the last few strokes, breathing ragged.

“Shit, shit—I’m—fuck, baby, fuck—”

You look up at him, mouth open, lips shiny and wet, tongue out just barely. 

He spills across your mouth, your cheek, your chin. Hot and messy and so, so much. You blink through it, a little stunned, a lot turned on.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, staring at the mess he made of you. “You’re—god. You’re insane.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, still grinning. “You’re welcome.”

Yoongi laughs breathlessly. “I think I just fell in love with you a little.”

You feel the shift, then. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but suddenly the air feels different. Too quiet. A little too still.

“Don’t be weird about it,” you huff, just to fill the space. 

Yoongi leans down and helps you up with careful hands. Your legs are a little wobbly. His hoodie is rumpled. His hair’s a mess. His sweatpants hang loose on his hips and his lips are kiss-bitten and red.

You glance at him, then away just as fast.

You’ve crossed some invisible threshold. You both know it. And now you’re just... here.

“I’m gonna, um.” You gesture vaguely toward the hallway. “Wash my face.”

Yoongi nods, but doesn’t say anything. You don’t look back as you walk away.

In the bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror, palms braced on either side of the sink. You wash your hands. Splash your face. Pat dry and breathe.

Or try to.

Fuck, are you having a fucking panic attack? Over that? Your chest is tight, every cell of your skin foreign to you. Like you’re wearing someone else’s body and she just did something you weren’t supposed to.

What the fuck was that?

Not the act itself. That part was great. The enthusiasm, the sheer filth of it—you don’t think you regret it. Maybe. It felt good, in the moment. You wanted it.

It’s what came after.

The shift. The quiet. The moment you felt like he saw too much of you. The part of you that glows when it’s being wanted, and dims just as quickly when it’s alone again.

And—Jesus, ’I think I just fell in love with you a little’? Who the fuck says that?

It takes you longer than you’d like to calm down. You do the breathing exercises you were taught, back in college when counseling was free and they handed out pamphlets on every corner of your campus. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You smooth down your shirt. Brush your fingers through your hair. 

Then return to the living room like you didn’t just spiral for fifteen straight minutes.

When you return, breathing still a little labored, Yoongi’s sitting on the arm of your couch with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like he’s afraid of what comes next. Like you’ve left him with his thoughts for too long. 

He sits up when you approach, brow furrowed at the state of you.

“You okay?” he asks.

You sigh and sit down. 

“Yeah. I just…” You stare straight ahead. “That was good. Really good. But it’s been a while. And I don’t know what I’m doing. With any of this.”

Yoongi nods slowly. “You don’t have to know,” he says. “I don’t either.”

You turn to look at him, and the thing in his eyes, the softness, it’s too much. So you keep going. 

“Not just the sex. Not just… you. This,” you say, gesturing at yourself, then your apartment. The mess that’s accumulated over the past month. “Letting someone see me when I don’t have it together. When I’m not even trying to pretend I do.”

You rest your head on the back of the couch, stare up at the ceiling like maybe it’ll swallow you whole if you keep talking.

“I don’t know why the fuck now of all times is when I’m letting myself feel anything,” you say. “It’s not like my life is better. It’s not like I’ve earned it.”

Silence. 

Then Yoongi shifts. Leans forward, elbows on his knees again, like he’s working up to something.

“You don’t have to earn anything,” he says. “There’s no quota for being okay. Or being wanted. You can be a mess and still deserve good things. You can be at your worst and still… feel.”

You laugh. Bitter and small. “So what, we’re just two disasters trying to convince each other it’s fine?”

He shrugs. “Pretty much.” And then, so gentle it nearly breaks you, he adds, “I don’t think I’m here to fix you. I just want to be here.”

How can he be so sure?

You don’t know a damn thing about him. Not really.

You know he works the stock room in a record store part-time and hates most of his coworkers. You know he smokes too much. That he eats terrible sandwiches and drinks canned coffee. That he texts like he’s trying to make you laugh even when he’s probably in the middle of some breakdown of his own.

You know he’s good with his hands.

You know he looked at you, in all of your mess, like you were still human. You know that he says dumb, grossly honest shit way too easily.

But you don’t know where he grew up. You don’t know what keeps him up at night. You don’t know what kind of heartbreaks he’s carrying, or who let him down hard enough that he walks around like he does.

And still, there’s something in your chest that won’t calm down. Something desperate. Clawing. A tightness you don’t want to name.

Why?

Why the fuck are you feeling so much for someone who’s barely more than a stranger?

Is it just the attention? The intimacy? The fact that, for once, someone touched you without asking you to be okay first? Is this what happens when you’re starving? When your skin has been untouched for too long and someone comes along with warm hands and tired eyes and lets you fall apart without flinching?

Maybe.

But it doesn’t feel shallow. It doesn’t feel fake. Instead, it just feels too easy. Like being with him turns the volume down in your head. Like you don’t have to explain yourself to be understood.

It scares the shit out of you.

Yoongi slips down from the armrest, sinks into the cushion next to you instead. Your knee brushes his. His arm rests behind you on the back of the couch, not quite around you, but near enough that if you leaned even slightly, he’d catch you.

Neither of you moves for a while. You just breathe. 

Then his arm moves and his pinky finger nudges yours.

A small thing. Stupid. Barely anything.

But it’s the first deliberate touch since everything happened in the entryway. And it’s soft. Hesitant.

“We don’t have to do… that,” he says, quiet but firm. You know he means the sex. “We don’t have to do anything.”

Maybe you don’t need to define it yet. Maybe it’s not about love or fate or healing. Maybe it’s just about want.

Two people letting themselves be wanted for a while.

You hook your pinky around his.

Just this, you think. Just this is fine. 

✧

Yoongi doesn’t push. He doesn’t label anything. He just keeps showing up. 

Sometimes at your place, sometimes at his. Sometimes at the bookstore, when he has a day off.

There’s a pattern now.

Late-night convenience store runs. Shared ramen on cracked stools by the window, making fun of people’s bad haircuts as they pass on the street outside. Socks borrowed and never returned. His hoodie living permanently on the back of your chair. Your phone lighting up with ‘Proof of life?’ on days he knows you’re at a low.

Sometimes you kiss. Sometimes you just sit in the same room and don’t say anything. Sometimes he talks and you don’t respond. And that’s okay, too.

It’s not about what it is. It’s about the fact that it keeps happening.

When you disappear, he still shows up. Like today.

It’s not a dramatic breakdown. Not this time.

Instead, it’s the kind of bad week that sinks its teeth in slow. No single catalyst, no big meltdown. Just one exhausting day stacked on top of another, until your body forgets how to move without dragging. Your sink is full of dishes you can’t look at. Your hair’s unwashed. You haven’t eaten anything substantial in days.

You didn’t text Yoongi to come over. You didn’t say much of anything at all this week.

But you must’ve sounded off, or maybe he just knows how to read silence better than most, because around three in the afternoon, you hear the soft knock at your door.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t mean to ignore him, you just can’t make your legs move.

A minute passes, and your phone buzzes from somewhere near your pillow.

Yoongi: Not trying to crowd you. Just wanted to drop off some food Yoongi: Leaving it by the door. No pressure

You muster the energy to roll out of bed and crack the door open. A plastic bag sits at your feet and Yoongi is already halfway down the hallway, hands in his pockets.

“Yoongi,” you call, your voice raspier than you expect.

He turns around.

“Hey,” he says, probably surprised that you’re upright.

You open the door wider. “You can come in. If you want.”

Yoongi hesitates just for a second, checking that you’re sure. Then he nods. He picks the bag up and slips inside without a word, setting it on your kitchen counter. 

He doesn’t try to hug you or touch you or ask what’s wrong. He doesn’t judge your apartment, the clothes strewn about, the closed curtains, the dishes piling up in the sink. He barely even looks.

“You eaten today?” he asks, gently.

You shake your head. “Not really hungry.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna make something anyway. Just in case.”

He moves around your kitchen like it’s his. Not because he’s overly familiar, but because he’s not afraid of your mess. He pulls out eggs, rice, a few green onions from the bag he brought.

You retreat back to your couch. You didn’t mean to lie down again, but the second you sit, your body droops until you’re horizontal. So you stay curled on your side, facing the wall. Listening.

The clink of metal. The whoosh of your gas burner catching. The soft sizzle of garlic hitting oil.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, Yoongi is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, cross-legged, a steaming bowl in his lap and another on your coffee table.

You push yourself up slowly. Your head aches, your throat’s dry, but you can’t lie. It smells good.

“You didn’t have to—” you start.

“I know,” he says, soft. “I wanted to.”

You eat in silence. The rice is soft, buttery, a little salty from the soy sauce and the eggs scrambled through it. You’re hungrier than you thought, but you pace yourself.

Halfway through, he glances over at you.

“You wanna watch something dumb?”

You nod.

Yoongi takes your bowl when you’re done, rinses both of them without comment. When he comes back, he takes a seat next to you. He scrolls through streaming apps on your TV until he lands on something you like.

The opening credits roll.

He doesn’t try to hold you. Doesn’t try to tell you it’s going to be okay. He just sits beside you, shoulders barely brushing. When your body droops again, he lets you lean into his side.

Somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark, he mutters, “You don’t have to be okay for me to want to be here.”

You don’t look at him. Your throat tightens like you’re going to cry. Which is something, at least, after the numbness of the week. 

“This could be me next week,” he says, like it’s nothing. “Or tomorrow. So. I get it. That’s all.”

And then the movie continues. One ridiculous scene after another. The light from the screen flickers across his face.

You don’t say thank you yet, but you know you don’t have to.

✧

You still haven’t put a name to it.

Neither of you has tried. There was one moment, maybe, a few days ago. Yoongi was over for no particular reason. He’d looked at you from your kitchen floor, head propped against the cabinets, lips red from kissing, and opened his mouth like he might ask.

But then the takeout came, and the moment passed.

You text like friends. ‘Want anything from the store?’ ‘This customer just asked if we sell records on vinyl. I hate it here.’ ‘What are you doing tonight?’ ‘Absolutely nothing.’ ‘Come do nothing with me.’

You hang out like you’re in a relationship. Eat cross-legged on his bed. Steal fries from each other’s plates without asking. Sometimes fall asleep shoulder to shoulder watching terrible TV.

You make out. A lot. 

Against walls. On couches. Outside each other’s doors at night when neither of you feels like saying goodnight just yet. It never quite escalates to the point it did that night—maybe once or twice it almost does, but one of you always pumps the brakes.

You don’t meet each other’s friends. You don’t ask about exes. You don’t introduce him to your sister or take photos together or exchange socials. Because that doesn’t feel like what this is.

You like the bubble you’ve built. The little world where nothing outside matters. Where it doesn’t have to matter yet.

Because outside the bubble, your life is still a mess. Rent’s overdue. Work is torture. You haven’t written anything in over a year and you haven’t figured out how to be proud of yourself again, not really.

But inside it—when Yoongi’s mouth is on yours, when he texts you ‘Made extra ramen if you’re hungry btw’ like that’s not the most romantic shit anyone’s ever said to you, you feel steady.

But, like anything else, it comes with its own set of issues.

The thing about not fucking is that it used to be about not wanting. A lack of drive. A lack of spark. A lack of time or energy or libido or options.

But now? Now, it’s something else. Because you have the option. 

Now, it’s starting to feel like a crack in the glass. Like every time you grind against his thigh with your hips twitching and your breath shaky, or every time he pulls your shirt off and buries his face between your tits but doesn’t go lower, the crack gets a little deeper. And you’re both pretending not to see it.

Because the truth is: you want to fuck him.

You desperately want to fuck him.

You think about it constantly. The way his fingers curled inside you that first night, the soft, filthy way he talked to you, the way he looked down at your face when you sucked him off like he was watching a goddamn miracle unfold.

You think about how he’d feel inside you.

You ache with it.

But you don’t bring it up. Because once you do, once you have sex, it’s not a bubble anymore. It’s real, something with expectations.

And you know yourself, you know how you get. You’ll start needing more. Wanting more. And Yoongi, sweet and quiet and lost in his own way, will become another thing you don’t know how to manage. Another thing you don’t know how to keep.

You’re scared of that. Of ruining it. Of letting your body talk you into something your heart might not be strong enough to carry.

So you kiss him like you’re dying, but when his hands drift to your waistband, you laugh, too high-pitched, and pull away. Pretend you’re tired. Or hungry. Or something, anything. Any excuse not to cross that final threshold. Yoongi never pushes. He just nods, catches his breath, and helps you back into your shirt like a gentleman.

But you feel the tension growing. Between your thighs. In your chest. In the way you wake up soaked and aching after every sleepover, body clenching at nothing. In the way your kisses are starting to come with more teeth. With soft little growls in your throat you didn’t mean to let out.

Tonight, he’s at your place again. It’s late. You both know he should’ve left hours ago, and the crack is splintering even further, faster than you realize.

You’re straddling Yoongi on the couch, your knees bracketing his hips, your mouth fused to his. Your hips are rocking down, slow and aimless at first, but building. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, feel the press of him through his sweats as you drag your clothed pussy over him like your body is starving.

Yoongi groans into your kiss. His hands grip your thighs, fingertips twitching. But, like always, he doesn’t push. He just lets you move, lets you grind down on him with that ragged little gasp in your throat, lets you take what you need without crossing the line you’ve both carefully danced around for weeks.

Except tonight, something’s different. You’re different.

Because when he tilts his head and mouths at your neck, hot and slow, and mutters, “you’re gonna make me come in my fucking pants,” you snap.

Completely.

You pull back just enough to look at him, breathing hard, eyes wild. “I want to fuck you.”

He blinks. Catches up slowly, like he’s not sure if he imagined it.

“I want you to fuck me,” you amend, a little louder. Desperate.

Yoongi just stares at you for a moment, mouth parted, chest heaving. His hands tighten on your thighs. 

“You sure?” he asks, voice rough.

Once you say yes, it happens fast. 

Yoongi’s hands are everywhere. Gripping your hips, your waist, sliding up your back to tug your shirt over your head. He peels it off and tosses it somewhere behind you, eyes locked on yours like he’s giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You don’t.

Your bra’s off next, fast, and he curses the second your tits are bare, like he can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s been thinking about it for weeks too, and now that it’s real, he doesn’t know where to start.

So he starts with his mouth.

He palms your breasts and groans low in his throat, then leans forward and takes one into his mouth like he needs it—hot tongue flicking over your nipple, lips sucking gently before he bites, just enough to make you gasp. His fingers find the other, circling and pinching lightly.

“Fuck,” you whimper, arching into him. “Yoongi—”

You grind down on his cock again, still half-dressed from the waist down, the friction sharp and unbearable. You’re soaked. You can feel it. Your panties are useless at this point, clinging wetly to your folds, and you’re half a second away from tearing them off yourself if he doesn’t move faster.

“Condom,” you breathe. “Please. Where—?”

“Yeah—fuck—yeah, hold on.”

You scramble off his lap at the same time he stumbles off the couch, both of you half-laughing and swearing under your breath. He digs through his bag on your floor, frantic, muttering, “I swear I had one—fuck, wait—yes.”

He holds it up like a prize, and you don’t even give him the chance to rip it open before you’re tugging your shorts and panties down in one go, stepping out of them and crawling back onto the couch.

Yoongi stops cold, stares at you for a second.

Hair messy. Chest heaving. Legs spread. Eyes hungry.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, tearing the foil open and shoving his sweats halfway down his thighs with shaking hands. His cock bobs free, hard and flushed and so ready, and your mouth actually waters.

He rolls the condom on with practiced ease and climbs back over you, settling between your legs like he belongs there. Like he’s done it a hundred times in dreams and is finally allowed to touch.

He presses inside you slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch knocks the breath from your lungs. You’re soaked, but it’s still so much, been too long, and you cling to his shoulders with a gasp.

Yoongi groans, forehead dropping to yours.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he rasps. “Fucking wet.”

You whimper, hips already rolling up to meet him. “Been wanting this,” you whisper. “Needing this—”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice shaking. “You gonna let me give it to you?”

“Yes, please—”

And then he starts to move. Just the brutal press of his hips to yours, every thrust deep and deliberate and filthy, like he’s trying to bury himself somewhere he won’t be able to crawl back from.

Your head tips back against the couch, eyes rolling up, mouth falling open on a gasp that barely sounds like a real word. He’s got one hand gripping the arm of the couch behind your head for leverage, the other wrapped tight around your thigh, keeping you pinned wide open beneath him as he fucks into you.

“Fuck, Yoongi—fuck—”

“You like it, baby?” he growls. 

You whimper, nodding helplessly, your hands scrambling up under his hoodie to claw at his back, his sides, anywhere you can touch.

Your skin’s on fire. Your thoughts are gone. All you know is the sharp, perfect drag of his cock, the sound of your soaked cunt every time he slams into you, the guttural noises he makes when your walls flutter around him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. “Tight little pussy just gripping me—shit, baby, I can’t—”

His pace stutters for half a second, like your body is pulling the soul out of him.

You cry out when he hits deep—too deep—and he groans, pulling your legs higher around his waist to get the angle just right.

“There,” he growls when you shatter under him, thighs shaking, cunt clenching so hard he nearly loses it. “Fucking cum.”

You come like you’ve lost control of your body. Loud, legs locked, nails in his back. It hits hard and fast and doesn’t stop, rolling through you in hot, humiliating waves. Yoongi hisses, desperate now, chasing his own end, rhythm starting to break.

“Gonna fill you up,” he pants, even though the condom’s there, even though it’s just a filthy fantasy, and you sob at the idea of it. “Fuck, I wish—wish I could come inside you—fuck—you’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me ruin you for anyone else—”

“Yes,” you gasp, not even sure you mean it, but it sounds right. Feels true.

That’s all it takes.

Yoongi groans like it’s been punched out of him, hips jerking as he comes hard, cock twitching inside you, face buried in your neck as he spills into the condom.

You both stay there, gasping against sticky skin through the aftershocks. He kisses your neck once. Then again. And again.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, dazed. “I think you just rearranged my internal organs.”

Yoongi laughs. “Cool. I was aiming for your soul.”

The couch cushions are half off the frame, your legs still trembling where they’re spread open around his waist. Yoongi pulls out slowly, careful, and your body aches from it, clenches down involuntarily, already missing the stretch. 

He ties off the condom, looks around for somewhere to put it before settling on the empty takeout bag from earlier. Pulls his sweats back up.

You sit up with limbs like jelly, not bothering to put your underwear back on just yet, and run a hand through your hair. Your thighs are sticky. Your lips are swollen. You feel fucked out and raw and wrung clean.

Your body is so satisfied.

Predictably, your brain is a different story.

You glance over at Yoongi. He’s slouched against the other end of the couch, head back, eyes closed. His hair is damp at the temples, chest still rising and falling like he hasn’t quite come back to himself yet.

He looks gorgeous.

You want to kiss him.

You also want to run.

That tight, itchy feeling—the one you’ve been avoiding since you first let him touch you—comes roaring back. You just crossed the line. You fucked the one good thing in your life that wasn’t tangled in expectations. That didn’t ask anything from you.

You broke the bubble.

He opens one eye and glances over at you.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just…” You trail off. Shrug. “That was intense.”

Yoongi huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah. You think?”

You stand. Your legs are still shaking.

“I’m gonna, uh… go pee,” you say, already heading toward the bathroom. “Before I die.”

He doesn’t stop you. Just nods, eyes following you for a second before he looks away.

You close the door and sit on the edge of the tub. Breathe.

You want to feel good. You do feel good. But also… you feel like maybe you’ve fucked up. Or you’re about to. Or like this is going to change something that shouldn’t be changed.

You think about what you’ll say when you go back out there.

You think about whether he’s getting dressed. Whether he’ll leave. Whether he should.

You think, I don’t want this to become another thing I have to recover from.

✧

When you finally open the bathroom door, the light feels harsher than it should, and your skin’s still warm from the shower you didn’t really want but took anyway. Just to delay, to think, to scrub away the sweat and the way his hands felt on your hips and the way your body sang for him.

You step into the living room wearing clean underwear and a fresh shirt. Your face is bare. Your hair is damp. Your expression, despite your best effort, is a little too tight.

Yoongi looks up from the couch, where he’s still sitting, this time in his sweats and hoodie again, elbows on his knees, fingers idly twisting the hem of his sleeve.

His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t smile, but his gaze softens. Immediately.

“Hey,” he says, quiet.

You nod, cross your arms. “Hey.”

He watches you for a second, then leans back, patting the space next to him.

You hesitate, but you lower yourself onto the couch anyway. Not quite touching, not quite distant. A safe middle. 

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, disbelieving. “Then why do you look like you’re trying to figure out how to ghost me while I’m still in your apartment?”

You wince, staring at your knees. “I just—I didn’t mean for this to turn into, like… a thing.”

He nods slowly. “Okay.”

“I mean, we’re not, right? A thing?”

You look at him now, really look. Your heart’s racing. Your stomach’s twisting. You’re not sure what kind of answer you want.

Yoongi looks back at you for a long moment. Then he leans back again, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know what we are,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to make it anything.”

You swallow hard, because part of you thinks that should make you feel better. Instead, it just makes your chest ache. You were the one who let him in, even when you swore you wouldn’t. You’re not trying to make him feel like he’s the one at fault here. It’s you. It’s always you.

“But,” he adds, eyes flicking to yours again, “I like you. I care about you. And if we’re fucking now, yeah, that’s gonna mean something to me. Even if we never put a label on it.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?” you ask, voice thin. “If it means something?”

Yoongi doesn’t speak for a long while. You sink into him without meaning to, thigh to thigh, arm to arm. You don’t really know why.

He exhales, slow and deliberate, and says, “Can I tell you something?”

You nod against his shoulder.

“I wasn’t supposed to be at that convenience store,” he starts, voice shaky in a way that makes you sit up, just slightly. “I mean, I didn’t have a reason to be anywhere. But that night… I think I was sort of… walking around to see if I’d change my mind.”

You still. Your heart trips over itself, because that could mean a lot of things. Because you know, just by the tone of his voice, that he means the worst. 

He keeps going.

“I’d been thinking about it for a while. Not in a loud way. Not even like a plan. Just… wondering. If things would be better. Easier. If I just stopped. Just disappeared.”

You don’t interrupt. You don’t breathe too loud. You just listen.

“And that night, it felt close. Like maybe I was ready. Like maybe no one would notice.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “I hadn’t talked to anyone in a couple days. I didn’t even brush my teeth before I left the house. I just started walking.”

Your eyes sting. You try not to let it show.

“I stopped at the store because I thought—fuck it. One last shitty sandwich. One last can of cold coffee.” He huffs. “Really poetic, right?”

You let out a breath. “Yoongi—”

He shakes his head. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel bad. Or because I think you saved me. You didn’t. You just… made it a little easier to stay.”

You’re crying now, because god, you didn’t know, but you know. You know how it feels to always have that in the back of your mind, to convince yourself that there would be relief in giving up. Letting go. 

He turns his head toward you now, not quite meeting your eyes, like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed to say all this out loud.

“I still think about it. Sometimes. Not all the time. But… it comes back. When it’s quiet. When I’m alone too long. But since that night, it’s been easier knowing that someone gets it. That I don’t have to pretend I’m fine all the time.”

He finally looks at you, and it’s not a dramatic, sweeping kind of moment. There’s no soft lighting or music swelling. Just his tired eyes, and your tired heart, and the shared weight of knowing what it feels like to want to give up—and choosing, for whatever reason, not to.

“Maybe that’s all this has to be,” he says. “Not a love story. Not some perfect, clean thing. Just… two people who don’t always want to be here, making it a little easier for each other to stay.”

You can’t speak. You nod, and your eyes blur, and Yoongi presses his forehead to yours like it’s the only way he knows how to say thank you for seeing me.

✧

Days later, things aren’t better—not in the way people usually mean. Your life is still a mess. His is too. 

But something’s changed. Settled.

He lets himself in now. Doesn’t knock. Kicks his shoes off like he lives there, shrugs his hoodie off and drops it somewhere near the couch, grabs two cups and fills them with whatever’s in your fridge.

And you let him.

You sit next to each other, thigh to thigh, flipping through shows you won’t finish. You kiss during the commercials. You fall asleep with his hand on your waist.

You still haven’t said you’re together. You still haven’t said what you mean to each other. But when you’re quiet for too long, he looks up from his phone and asks, “Okay?”

And when he’s too quiet, you ask, “Wanna stay the night?”

And when you both lie awake in the dark, not talking, not moving, you think: I’m still here.

And so is he.

✧

It starts with scraps. Half-sentences in your notes app. A phrase here, a sentence there. Something you jotted down after Yoongi left one night, when your chest felt like it was holding more than usual and your bed still smelled like his shampoo.

Then it becomes a little routine. You open your laptop without the usual dread. You stare at the cursor blinking in a half-finished document and think: maybe I can.

It’s not for meant to be published. It’s not for anyone but you. But it’s something.

One night, Yoongi finds you sitting on the floor with your laptop on your thighs. You’re so focused, you don’t even hear him come in.

He just watches for a second, quiet.

“Writing?” he asks eventually, and you jump.

“Jesus—” You slam the laptop shut on instinct, and he raises both hands in surrender, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“You don’t have to show me,” he says, setting down the drinks he brought. “But… that’s new.”

You shrug, embarrassed. “It’s nothing. Just… stuff.”

Yoongi sinks to the floor beside you. “You haven’t written since we met.”

“I haven’t written in a long time.”

He doesn’t ask why not. He already knows.

Instead, he leans his head on your shoulder and says, “I’m glad you’re starting to again.”

He doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask for details. He doesn’t ask to read it. He just sits with you, there on the floor, eyes closed. Like your writing means something just by existing.

You open the laptop again.

You keep writing.

✧

Yoongi is sitting cross-legged on your bed while you type, cradling a cup of tea you made him because he clearly needed something to do with his hands. 

You can tell he’s nervous. He’s got that look on his face like he’s about to say something serious but is trying not to scare the shit out of you. It isn’t working.

“So,” he says, after a long stretch of silence, “I have a friend.”

You glance up from your laptop, blinking. “Amazing.”

Yoongi huffs. “Kim Namjoon. He’s an old friend. College. We used to mess around with production stuff, back when I thought I was gonna be a genius producer with a Grammy by 25.”

You smile a little at that, set your laptop aside. “What’d he say?”

Yoongi hesitates, fingers drumming softly against the side of his mug. “He got some seed money. Not much. Just enough to rent a space, get a couple of half-decent mics, some gear. Says he wants to start a small label.”

Your stomach does a little flip. Not because you’re worried. Not yet. But because of the way he’s saying it. Like he’s trying not to want it too much.

“He wants me in on it,” Yoongi continues, staring down into his tea. “It’d be three of us, working in a basement, surviving off cup ramen. Maybe getting a local artist to sign on eventually.”

You exhale. “That sounds… really fucking cool.”

Yoongi finally looks at you. He’s smiling now, just a little, but it’s tight at the edges. “Yeah. It does.”

“And?”

He shrugs, but it’s not a real shrug. It’s that shoulder-lift people do when something matters too much. “And I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to give a shit again. I don’t know if I’ll fuck it up. I don’t even know if I still have anything to say.”

“You do,” you say, instantly.

His jaw flexes. “Yeah, well. Maybe. He’s starting soon. Wants me to come by next week. Just to mess around with some demos, get a feel for it again.”

You nod slowly. Try not to let the ‘what if’s start swirling. What if it pulls him away? What if he leaves? What if this tiny, fragile thing you’re building—whatever it is—gets buried under a dream he's only just remembered how to want again?

But you don’t say any of that.

Instead, you say, “You should do it.”

Yoongi searches your face for a long time, hesitant, like he’s trying to catch you in a lie. 

“Yeah?”

You reach over and take his mug, set it on the nightstand. You curl into his side, your face pressed to the crook of his neck.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think maybe… we’re both starting to remember how to want things again.”

You feel him breathe out. Slow. Unsteady.

But he nods.

✧

Yoongi doesn’t stop texting. He still sends you memes, voice notes, the occasional photo of his workspace—a cramped basement room with exposed pipes and cords spilling out over his desk, coffee-stained notebooks piled next to a MIDI keyboard.

But he’s not around as much.

The nights you used to spend together—half-draped over one another on the couch, kissing during reruns, sleeping side-by-side without labels—are fewer now. Sometimes he falls asleep at the studio. Sometimes he doesn’t respond until 2 a.m., when you’re already asleep.

It’s hard. You won’t lie to yourself about that. You feel the absence like a low-grade fever. Always there, dull but insistent.

And there’s still no word for what you are. No boyfriend, no girlfriend. Just… you, and Yoongi. And this thing you’ve built together, quiet and warm and undefined.

But when you do see him—when he walks through your door smelling like coffee and sweat and work—you can see it on him. The spark. The momentum. The low, buzzing joy of trying again. Of wanting something bad enough to bleed for it.

He’s tired. But he’s tired for a good reason, now.

And that makes you want to try, too.

So you keep opening your laptop. Not just to scribble down half-formed ideas, but to finish. You sit with the mess of it, the aching in your fingers, the voice in your head that says ‘why bother’—and you write anyway. You dig up old stories, rework scenes that used to make you cringe. You find your voice again, piece by shaky piece.

Sometimes, late at night, you send him snippets. Just to say, look. I’m doing it, too.

And he always responds, eventually. Usually something like:

Yoongi: Fuck yes

Yoongi: Proud of you

Yoongi: Also the studio toilet flooded again. I’m going to kill Joon

You laugh. You keep writing.

It still hurts sometimes. Missing him, wondering what all this means. But now the hurt is paired with movement. With hope.

✧

Eventually, you finish something.

It’s not perfect. Not even close. There are typos and sentences that feel like strangers to themselves, and places where the ending is still a little jagged and wrong. But it’s done.

A full manuscript. Your name at the top. Your words, your voice, your pain and hunger and stupid hope wrapped into a whopping 112 pages.

You think of Yoongi when you submit it with an application to a graduate school program. A program you’ve read and re-read the description for more times than you care to admit. You don't know if it’s good enough. If you’re good enough. But for the first time in a long time, you do it anyway.

And then you don’t tell anyone.

Maybe it’s selfish, but you want the hope for yourself. Just for a little while. You want to keep it quiet and sacred, untainted by expectations or well-meaning encouragement or the crushing weight of what if it doesn’t happen. You just want it to be yours.

You keep seeing Yoongi, of course. When he can. When he’s not tangled up in late-night meetings and studio sessions. You see each other in stolen hours, sleep-heavy kisses, lazy dinners eaten on the floor.

But lately, even those small moments feel bigger.

And then one night, you get a text.

Yoongi: You home?

You are. You say yes.

He shows up ten minutes later, breathless, hoodie damp from trying to dodge light rain, cheeks flushed with joy. Real joy. The kind that lights his whole face from the inside out.

“I had to tell someone,” he says the second you open the door. “I had to tell you.”

You let him in, confused but smiling all the same. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “What happened?”

He doesn’t even sit. He paces back and forth, rakes a hand through his hair, practically vibrating.

“We signed someone,” he finally says. “Tentatively, but, this artist from Busan, she’s insane, she’s so weird and good and her voice is like—fuck, I don’t even know how to explain it. But Namjoon loved her. We all did. And she said yes. She said yes, to us.”

You blink, stunned. “You—Yoongi, that’s—holy shit!”

He grins, wide and unguarded, and you’ve never seen him like this before and it just makes you so fucking happy. You’re up on your feet before your brain catches up. 

You hug him tight, breath caught in your throat. Because he’s shaking a little, and he smells so good, and this is what he looks like when he’s proud of himself. When he’s living.

You pull back to look at him, hands on his jaw.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper.

And Yoongi’s expression shifts. Softens. Deepens. He takes a breath. 

“I love you,” he says.

Like it’s not sudden. Like it’s been sitting on his tongue for weeks, waiting for the right moment to fall out.

“I just—I do. And I didn’t want to say it while things were still messy, or early, or whatever. But this is what I wanted. That night, at the convenience store. This. You. Someone who gets it. Someone who doesn’t fix me but lets me stay. And I love you.”

Fuck. There it is. 

You don’t speak right away. You reach for him instead. Pull him back in. Rest your forehead against his and let yourself feel it. All of it.

And then, soft and steady, you say it back. 

“I love you too.”

✧

It’s not frantic, not this time. 

Not messy or rushed or born of need. It’s slow, reverent, deep. Yoongi’s hands cradle your face like you’re something fragile, something he’s terrified of breaking now that he knows what you mean to him. His thumbs stroke your cheeks. His breath catches when you tilt your head and kiss him harder but just as slow, open-mouthed and aching.

You walk him backwards toward the bed. He lets you. He goes willingly, grinning against your mouth like he can’t believe this is happening again, that you’re his, and that this time, it’s not just comfort or heat or distraction. It’s love.

He sinks onto the mattress, and you climb over him, straddling his lap, kissing him again and again, hands tangled in his hair, grinding down against the hard line of his cock through his sweats.

But then he pulls back. Barely. His hands settle on your thighs. His eyes are dark and shining and hungry.

“Let me eat you out.”

Your breath catches.

“I—what?”

Yoongi licks his lips. “You don’t get it,” he says, too far gone to filter it. “I’ve been wanting to. Since the night I fingered you against your fucking door, I’ve wanted to get between your thighs and just live there. I love you, and I love your pussy, and I’m gonna make you come so hard you forget every single bad day you’ve ever had.”

You stare at him, slackjawed.

Then you exhale, soft and wrecked, and whisper, “Okay.”

Yoongi repositions you onto your back, gentle, lips back on yours. His hands slide down your body like he’s mapping out every inch. He tugs your shirt off, unhooks your bra, kisses down your neck, your chest, your ribs, like he has all the time in the world.

And then he pulls your shorts down. Your panties too.

He groans when he sees you. Like, actually groans.

“God, baby. Look at you.” He kisses your inner thigh, drags his nose along the crease, eyes flicking up to yours. “So fucking pretty.”

And then he licks into you.

You cry out, sharp and sudden, because it’s so much. He’s warm and wet and greedy, tongue flat against your clit, then pointed and precise, then everywhere, like he can’t choose, like he doesn’t want to.

He moans against your pussy like he’s the one being touched. Like he could cum just watching you feel good, because of him.

“Yoongi—shit—” Your hands fly to his hair, thighs trembling, already shaking, already close.

He wraps his arms under your thighs, holding you open, keeping you grounded, mouth working you over like he’s worshipping you. He sucks on your clit, gentle but firm, and you arch off the bed.

“I’m gonna come,” you warn, voice breaking. “Fuck, Yoongi—”

He groans, messy and eager, never once letting up. And then you do.

You come hard, thighs clamping around his head, hands in his hair, eyes rolled back. It’s hot and overwhelming, your body jolting and twitching, his name a broken whimper on your tongue.

He keeps going until you push him away, overstimulated and trembling.

“Jesus,” you breathe.

He grins, climbs back up your body, presses his mouth to yours without hesitation. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“You love me,” he murmurs, like it’s the best thing he’s ever been told.

You nod, dazed. “I do.”

He kisses you again.

“You’re gonna let me do that every day, right?”

You laugh, breathless. “If you keep doing it like that, yeah. I might not survive, but yeah.”

You let Yoongi kiss you for a while, slow and soft and full of so much love, but eventually, you push at his shoulder. He pulls back instantly, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“Lie down,” you murmur. “Let me take care of you.”

Yoongi blinks, lips swollen and wet. But he lets you push. “Baby—”

“You’ve been working so fucking hard,” you say, crawling into his lap, straddling his thighs. “Let me ride you. Let me make you feel good. Please.”

Whatever protest he might’ve had dies in his throat the second you reach down and palm him through his sweats. He’s hard—has been since he had your pussy on his tongue—and he groans, low and helpless, as you slide your hand beneath the waistband.

You stroke him slow, loving, watching the tension bleed out of him with every pass of your fist.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, hips twitching into your touch. “Feels good.”

You smile. Kiss his chest as he fumbles for the condom in his wallet.

When you finally sink down onto him, Yoongi lets out a groan. His hands fly to your hips, gripping hard, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension in his neck when he leans his head back.

“God—” he gasps. “Fuck, baby, you—”

“I know,” you breathe, grinding your hips in slow, careful circles. “I know. Just relax. Let me do this for you.”

You ride him slow, deep, dragging his cock through your tight, wet heat over and over. Every inch of him feels like it was made for you, thick and perfect and pulsing inside you, your cunt already fluttering from how good he made you feel earlier.

Yoongi can’t keep still. His fingers squeeze your thighs, your hips, then your waist, like he can’t decide where to hold on. Like he’s barely holding on at all.

He opens his eyes to look at you and whines, higher than he probably meant to. Because you’re riding him like you love him. Because your tits are bouncing with every slow roll of your hips, and your face is flushed, and your eyes are locked on his like there’s nowhere else you want to be in the entire fucking world.

It springs him into action.

He sits up, wraps his arms around you, mouths at your tits like he’s starving. He sucks at one nipple, then the other, licking and kissing and biting softly like he can’t stop, like he needs to touch you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.

He moans into your chest. Hands moving down to your ass, guiding you up and down on his cock in that same slow, dirty rhythm, like he wants to make this last forever.

“Can’t even think,” he pants. “You feel so fucking good—too good—fuck, I love you—”

You ride him harder, faster, your hands on his shoulders. Your whole body shakes with how good it feels to be full of him, to see him like this—wrecked, undone, yours.

“I’m so close,” you whisper, hips stuttering. “Yoongi—”

“Come for me,” he begs. “Please, baby, come on my cock, wanna feel it.”

You do.

You fall apart in his arms, gasping his name, pussy clenching around him so tight it nearly rips the orgasm out of him too. You’re shaking, sweating, still grinding through it as he buries his face in your neck, groaning your name, fucking up into you just a little, just enough—

He comes with a low, broken ‘fuck,’ arms locking around your waist, cock pulsing inside the condom. He’s so loud, so needy, and god, you’ve never loved anyone like this.

You collapse against his chest, both of you breathless and slick with sweat, still joined, still trembling.

And Yoongi holds you like he never wants to let go.

✧

You stay like that for a while, pressed to his chest, his arms strong around your back, the rhythm of his heartbeat still racing under your cheek. The room smells like sweat and sex. Yoongi’s hand is stroking slow lines up and down your spine. 

He hasn’t said much since you both came down, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Just full.

You’re the one who breaks it.

“I did something,” you admit.

Yoongi hums, not missing a beat in the way his fingers trace over your skin. “Yeah?”

You nod against his chest, then force yourself to sit up, just enough to look at him. His hair’s a mess. His eyes are half-lidded and lazy, but sharp with attention the second he realizes you’re serious.

“I applied to grad school.”

Yoongi blinks.

“For writing?” he asks.

You nod again, heart hammering. “Yeah. An MFA. I submitted a portfolio. Finished something for the first time in forever. I would’ve told you sooner, I just—” You shrug. “I didn’t want to jinx it.”

His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again, like he’s still processing.

And then he grins. Slow. Genuine. Gums showing and eyes shining.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, sitting up and grabbing your face in both hands.

Your eyes sting. “I don’t even know if I’ll get in. It’s probably stupid—”

“It’s not,” he cuts in, firm and quiet. “It’s not stupid. It’s huge.”

You try to look away, but he keeps your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, grounding you.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he says. “Seriously. I’ve watched you try so hard to find something again, and you did it. Whether or not you get in doesn’t matter. You tried. That’s fucking everything.”

You bite your lip, blinking fast. Yoongi kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me,” he murmurs. “I’ll keep it safe.”

And you know he will.

For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel so terrifying.

✧

The email comes on a Wednesday.

You’re not expecting it. You’ve nearly forgotten the timeline, pushed it into the back of your mind like a daydream you didn’t want to get too close to. You’ve been telling yourself not to hope too much. Not to want it, even though you do. Badly.

It hits your inbox around 11:42 a.m., and you stare at the subject line for a full minute before you open it. And then—

You’re in.

You read it twice, then two more times. It still doesn’t feel real. You read the phrase We’re pleased to inform you like it’s in another language. Like it’s not something anyone was ever supposed to say to you.

Then you laugh. A startled, breathless sound that turns into something half-sobbing.

You call Yoongi.

He doesn’t pick up on the first try—he’s a busy man these days—but he calls back two minutes later.

“Hey, baby. What’s—?”

“I got in.”

There’s a long pause.

And then, softly, “what?”

You swallow hard. You’re pacing your kitchen now, barefoot and trembling. “I got in. Grad school.”

“Holy fuck.”

You laugh again, breathless. “I know.”

“Holy fuck.”

“I know! Yoongi—”

“You got in,” he says. “You fucking got in.”

He sounds like he’s smiling. Like he’s trying not to cry. You’re trying, too.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says. “So fucking proud of you. I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Your throat tightens. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Come to the studio,” he says instantly. “No one’s here today except me. I’ll order food. I’ll roll a joint. I’ll kiss you a lot. Do some very dirty, celebratory things to you on the desk, if you want.”

You’re already grabbing your keys. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Meet me out back.”

When you get to the studio, he’s outside. Leaning against the back of the building, waiting. The joint is already rolled, tucked neatly behind his ear, and he’s got that look on his face—that slow, lazy grin.

“You,” he says, pushing off the wall the second he sees you. “Fucking you.”

You don’t say anything. Just drop your bag on the cracked concrete and launch yourself into his arms.

He catches you easily, wraps you up in him—hoodie and warmth and the faint smell of cigarettes and detergent and Yoongi. His arms curl tight around your waist, and he lifts you slightly off the ground as you bury your face in his neck.

“You got in,” he murmurs again. “You really—baby, you did it.”

You nod against him, laughing and sniffling all at once. “I did.”

He sets you down but doesn’t let go. Just pulls back enough to kiss you. Once. Twice. Then a third time, slower. Deeper. Like he’s trying to memorize this version of you—buzzing and breathless and so fucking proud of yourself.

When he finally pulls away, he grins and taps the joint behind his ear.

“Celebration?”

You nod. “God, yes.”

He lights it. Takes a drag, passes it to you, and you both sit on the loading dock out back, knees bumping, fingers laced, smoke around your heads. The sun’s low in the sky. It’s chilly, but you don’t feel cold. Not with his hand in yours.

And everything’s… okay. Not fixed. Not perfect. But better.

Because loving Yoongi didn’t save you, and you didn’t save him. You still have bad days. Panic attacks. Guilt. Long, unbearable silences you have to claw your way out of. He does, too. Life is still life.

But he holds your hand through it.

And when things are good—like now, like this—you feel it in your bones: you love him. You fucking love him.

You lean into his side, head on his shoulder, and you think:

I can do this. I can live this life. 

Especially if he’s in it.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

askbox ★ ao3 ★ anonymous feedback box

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @ggukivrse @chrrybbmb 

@sunreads @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne 

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@itsmina29 @sophia--915 @jeanjacketjesus @kiki-zb @velvetskize

@gelijar @livi101ful @annyeongbitch7 @pitchblack0309 @goldietigers294 

@hopegdbbggloss @kam9404 @jajabro @parapiop7 @mar-lo-pap

@tarahardcore @butterymin @svnbangtansworld @rainnamu @auroradamned

@mintedagustd @angellekookie @watchingover-hypegirl @slytherinatheart

[aaclariww]

TOXIC ⋆ CHAPTER THREE (m)

the one where you rip into your best friend's ex, and then you get punished

pairing: rich ! jungkook x brat gf ! reader

genre: possessive love / estab. relo / social media au / mdni

content: this chapter is so packed like i don't even know omfg.. there's fluff, angst, a mixture of texts and written scenes, some insta posts, and a smutty little segment..

author's note: guys umm let me just start by saying oc miiight've gone a little off the rails in the beginning ha..hha... but what can i say, she just loves her mans ok <3 am also highkey regretting not making olivia's bf a random character 😔 i love u tae baby, pls forgive me

prev episode ⋅ profiles & story warnings ⋅ next episode

pov you said you weren't going to end on cliffhangers... hides face in hands

i reached the 30 pic limit guys im SORRY!! but also i'm back to work tmrw so this is all my little brain could conjure.. love you & pls leave me feedback and reblog if u enjoyed!!! 😚🩷

[aaclariww]

Love & Lullabies | Part 6 (Teaser)

Chapter Warnings: Is Yoongi bout to fumble MC?!, Sung Kyung in her villain era Word count: 447

Series Masterlist | TAGLIST is open

You’ve only got one hand free—your other is balancing a box of those orange patries Yoongi won’t shut up about—so you reach for the keypad to his apartment, thumb tapping the code you now know by heart.

But the second you swing the door open, you freeze.

Standing in the entryway, pulling a sleek beige coat over her shoulders, is none other than Lee Sung Kyung.

“Oh,” she says. Blinking, brows lifting ever so slightly. “Hi.”

You take in the scene—her boots by the door, a cup half-full on the counter. It’s not scandalous, not exactly. But it sure as hell isn’t nothing, either.

You tilt your head, offering a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hi.”

“I know you. You’re the temp nanny, no? My son isn’t here, though.” 

Oh wow. So that’s how she’s playing this.

You take a second, studying her face. Her expression is neutral, but her lips are just a little too tight. You have a feeling she knows exactly who you are. This isn’t ignorance—it’s a power play. A test.

Calculating your next move, you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you unknowingly picked up from Yoongi.

Speak of the devil. Behind her, Yoongi appears from the hallway, brows raised in alarm like he’s already running a thousand calculations on how catastrophic this looks. “You’re early,” he says to you, and then, to Sung Kyung, “I thought you were already gone.”

“I was just leaving,” she says lightly, turning to glance over her shoulder. “But I couldn’t stop myself from tidying up our son’s room. His toys are all over the place.”

It isn’t. And you know it.

“Didn’t realize you were expecting company,” she jabs.

“Didn’t think I needed an appointment,” you counter, lifting the box slightly. “Brought your favorite,” you say to Yoongi, keeping your voice steady. 

“Oh, but his actual favorites are the lemon tarts from Tartine?”

Ah. So she really wants to do this.

“Well,” you smile sugary, tilting your head, “you’ve been gone a while, haven’t you? He has a new favorite now.”

Sung Kyung mirrors your smile—tight, polished, and laced with something sharp.

You know Yoongi knows a cat fight is in his midst, and it would be in everyone's best interest that he does something, anything. He runs a hand over his hair, gripping his scalp tight, clearly dying inside. “Okay,” he mutters, eyes flicking between you and her. “Time to wrap this up.”

“But you haven’t even properly introduced us.” Sung Kyung grins and it’s fake as fuck. She turns to you again, not waiting on Yoongi to make the intro. “I'm Sung Kyung, Haneul’s mom, but you already know that.” 

“Y/N, Haneul’s teacher.” You let the silence stretch just a beat too long before adding:

“And Yoongi’s girlfriend.”

A/N: what a FLEX. 😏✨️ Dropping the entire chapter hopefully this month. I'm just adjusting with a lot of irl changes, but it should be better soon, hopefully.

Thanks for waiting on this, my lovelies. Are y'all even still here? Drop me a note, or a reblog if you can, I'd appreciate it!! 🧡

Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)

@wonh0oe @woozuzu @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie