qualityjoonie - Tumblr blog

[qualityjoonie]

four seven eight, phase three: intermission 02.

wordcount: 2k

glimpse: yoongi's never thought of having a family before — until now.

alternatively, yoongi rethinks what he could've had with you while babysitting hwayoung.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

“Why would I refuse to look after Hwayoung?” Yoongi had uttered then, his voice still groggy after being rudely awakened by your call, even if he knows he’s set up your contact to bypass every do not disturb mode that his phone has. “She’s your kid.”

The call that you had made with Yoongi in an ungodly hour (atleast for him as a bachelor) is what made you end up at his doorstep with baggage that’s heavier than both of you combined, his whole house rearranged, and his life completely changed.

Hwayoung, even if she only kissed you and Jungkook goodbye with no tears at all just this morning, is a different person altogether now that Yoongi’s trying to get her to sleep.

“Come get your milk, sweetheart,” he coaxes once again, dangling the bottle in front of Hwayoung for her to take. He knows she’s attentive enough for her to deliberately ignore him, and Yoongi chuckles in remembrance of your stubbornness.

He leans on the couch for the meantime, hand still outstretched for Hwayoung to take her bottle from in the event that she listens to him. Yoongi’s not frustrated, not at all — if anything, he just feels a little incompetent.

He can’t be stern with your daughter and he can’t fool her either. He can’t devise a foolproof plan for anything and yet you trust him with her still, your only instructions to him detailing about her feeding times.

Yoongi’s inexperienced at this compared to Jungkook. He’s at the bottom of the food chain and if the only fight that existed in his life was to look after Hwayoung the best, then Jungkook would’ve eaten him right up and spat him out.

Yoongi gets it: he’s neither a husband nor a father. He doesn’t have the instincts that Jungkook bears for both of his girls and the realization of that refuses to settle in his stomach. 

“What’s going on, hm?” he asks Hwayoung as soon as she settles down beside him, wordlessly taking the bottle from his hand. It may have only took half an hour and an enormous amount of pleading from him (along with a hundred other thoughts of how if this was Jungkook, he could’ve easily had Hwayoung already sleeping at a snap), but Yoongi gives himself leeway.

“Is my Young-ie feeling down?” he hums, seeing the small frown on her lips that he can’t attribute to her bouncing around the walls.

Yoongi’s heart stings for a second looking at your daughter like this, but he convinces himself that this was the best possible decision at the moment — that he’s the best possible fail-safe you can run to.

“Mama. Appa,” she lists, wiggling her feet as she sighs. Hwayoung’s a little restless but she can’t be blamed, the anticipating eyes that follow Yoongi after she uttered your names making him feel a little guilty.

He’d make both you and Jungkook appear (and maybe even reconcile, but his pride doesn’t want that that yet) in front of her if only he could do that.

“I know, sweetheart. They’re gonna come get you soon though!”

Hwayoung’s eyes widen at the promise of soon.

Yoongi doesn’t feel like himself as he looks at her. He feels like he’s floating in the sense that he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing and that he’s running on something he can’t place a finger on; something less than instinct yet more than obligation.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing or if he’s even doing anything correctly, but even as he’s sat on the floor with his phone face-up and his mother on speed dial to ask what he should do about Hwayoung, simply because Yoongi’s pride can’t stand bothering you and adding to your burdens, Yoongi can grasp for a second on what it feels like to have a little human depend on him.

To have a little human who regularly asks him questions he usually doesn’t have answers to, except for now.

“Don’t — don’t love me?” Hwayoung pieces together, her brows furrowed together as she tries to gauge for an answer.

“That’s nonsense, Young-ie,” Yoongi immediately refutes Hwayoung, the answer he’s giving her now being the most absolute thing he’s ever been sure of. “They love you. Like thiiiis much,” he coos, spreading his arms wide. “They just have to leave for awhile because they love you enough not to-…”

Yoongi pauses, not because he’s unsure of his explanation to the child, but because said child takes his widened arms as an invitation for a hug.

He can wrap his head around how Hwayoung is yours, but he can’t go over the fact that she isn’t his.

“Not to put you in the middle of everything,” he adds belatedly, clearing his throat as he pats Hwayoung on the head gently, softly, because he doesn’t know how to react.

Hwayoung doesn’t question the cautiousness that Yoongi takes with patting her head and taking the empty bottle away from her. She doesn’t question the softness in his tone as he explains why you and Jungkook can’t be there for her. 

Even as Yoongi tries to move as slowly as he could to try and tidy up the floor without breaking her hug, but ultimately failing, which leads him to stand up completely to get to work, Hwayoung doesn’t question him.

“Miso’s napping already. You wanna join her?” he asks, pointing to the sleeping cat at the corner of his sofa that she’s definitely turned into her scratching post. 

Hwayoung frowns at the cat she usually has the most endearing eyes for, and by then, Yoongi wants to call Jungkook.

He doesn’t want to call you or his mom or any maternal figure he can run to, but he wants to call Jungkook instead. Yoongi, despite his enormous pride, wants so badly to call your husband and ask him what he should do because he knows the little girl best.

He wants to give up his couch to Miso who’s threatened to kill him four separate times today. He wants to give up his house slippers to every block that Hwayoung plays with so atleast something of his is indented with the memory that a child, your child, had made his walls shake with laughter as he mistakenly steps on the tiny toys. 

Yoongi wants to give up his pride to Jungkook just so he’d know how to remove the indescribable frown on Hwayoung’s face.

“Gi?” she calls, trying his name again because she can’t understand honorifics just yet. “Yoongi?” she asks softly, arms outstretched as if she’s reaching for the sun. “Up, please.” 

Yoongi doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know anything about being a dad in the slightest, but with the way his heart tugs and how his eyes soften and how his arms immediately curl by the pressure, Yoongi wants to believe otherwise, no matter how delusional he feels. 

Hwayoung doesn’t ask why he immediately carries her like he’s being timed for a world record, and she doesn’t ask either why Yoongi’s eyes are glassy.

“You really, really look like your appa,” he mutters, voice lilting to a chuckle as his eyes glaze over his poor attempt at making pigtails. “But you have the heart of your mama, don’t you?” 

Hwayoung smiles at the mention of your name, cheeks squishing as she presses her head to Yoongi’s shoulder in the same way she does with Jungkook.

Hwayoung’s so tiny this way. So unguarded yet at the same time, secure in Yoongi’s arms.

He’s not a dad so he wouldn’t know about Jungkook’s late night feedings and diaper changes, nor would he know about your husband’s sleep deprivation and constant grappling for his identity outside of being Hwayoung’s dad.

He doesn’t know that the constant turmoil that unfolds within him as the temporary guardian of your child grows tenfold as her actual parent. He doesn’t know the insecurity that you and Jungkook possess because nobody, not even Hwayoung herself, knows how dim you feel being surrounded by such light.

Yoongi doesn’t know shit. He doesn’t know what it feels like having somebody waiting for him at home or how it feels to live and exist for anyone else outside of himself. He knows nothing and yet at the opportunity for him to somehow stand in as Jungkook, a small part of him grows tired at feeling clueless.

A much, much larger part of him grows jealous of Jungkook.

What Yoongi feels but doesn’t know to himself is that Hwayoung no longer weighs anything to him. She doesn’t physically weigh in the same way a child in daycare would weigh to a teacher, and she doesn’t weigh as the baby you put in his arms when you allowed your closest friends to see her.

Yoongi’s familiar with Hwayoung to the point that he’s neither afraid to hold her nor paranoid to support her neck; to the point that Yoongi doesn’t get annoyed that Hwayoung’s hands are sticky like every other toddler’s from playing with toys, or that his shirt is somehow stained too without knowing the exact reason why.

Yoongi just feels, even if he doesn’t know, that he wants a family.

He doesn’t know the specifics. He doesn’t know when he’ll settle down or how much of his career would he sacrifice. He doesn’t know how he’ll balance everything or how great he’d be in being attuned to his partner. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll go about being a dad yet he’s scared shitless. 

“You’re really her kid, Young-ie,” Yoongi whispers, poking her cheek softly.

If only Yoongi had acted a little faster — if only he had come into terms sooner that what he felt for you was already serious and wasn’t just a pastime after spending so much time with you, then Jungkook wouldn’t have beat him to it.

Yoongi could’ve been in Jungkook’s place. 

He could’ve been Hwayoung’s dad, even.

The tiny, rational part of him makes him rethink if Hwayoung would even be Hwayoung without Jungkook in the picture at all, but he shoves that picture into the back of his mind. Instead, Yoongi cups his hand as he tries to get your daughter to sleep in his arms.

The large, irrational part of him comes into terms with the fact that even if Hwayoung is solely herself because of you and Jungkook — he doesn’t mind being her family at all.

[qualityjoonie]

four seven eight, phase 3 (2)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: you’re pushed to the edge after eunsu’s stunt, and it makes jungkook realize that he’s no longer secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad.

alternatively, jungkook goes back to square one with you, but especially with hwayoung.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ angst, fluff, the double-edged desire of wanting more n Being More despite having almost everything, hwayoung being the universe, mentions of eunsu breaking in into jk's hotel room, jus eunsu being a weirdo in general, 478 couple goes old school YIPPEEEE, yoongi as his own warning, eventual redemption ]

notes: heh... i did say it wud get a little worse before everything gets better!!! :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Hwayoung keeps staring at Jungkook’s empty spot on the dining table.

“Where’s appa?” 

She looks like a spitting image of Jungkook with the way her brows are furrowed and her bottom lip pouted, clearly confused to why her carbon copy still isn’t here. Hwayoung’s heard your explanation a dozen of times already, yet she asks you again — not because she forgot already, but because she’s in disbelief.

“He’s working, Young-ie,” you smile tightly, cutting up her pancakes once again to redirect her into eating instead of asking where Jungkook is. She eats, even if you don’t slice the pancakes the way Jungkook does (he cuts them up to look like a window with four, almost-perfectly divided slices) and in the same breath, you try not to pull out your phone to ask if he’s already had dinner.

Loving Hwayoung is extremely easy, even if you get choked up from time to time trying to internalize the fact that she’s yours and Jungkook’s. There’s a continuous beep in your chest that rivals the volume of what pedestrian crossings sound like when they turn green; it’s been ringing ever since you found out you were pregnant with Hwayoung and came to the realization that you owe everything (if the world happens to not be enough) to her.

Hwayoung may be a curious, bubbly child, but the extent of her questioning only stops when you tell her that Jungkook’s working. She doesn’t prod any further than that, settling for a generic answer you’d expand on if only you could find the heart to. 

Hwayoung doesn’t ask why you hold her a lot more closely than you’d usually do when you’re asleep or why her oversized sleep shirts lately belong to you and not Jungkook, not because she doesn’t care about the sudden absence of her dad, but because the abundance of you almost makes her forget about her new routine.

Almost.

She goes down from her seat (just like how Jungkook taught her with both hands and extreme care) wordlessly, strolling off with a determined gait, only to return with your cat in her arms like it’s a normal occurrence at seven in the morning.

“What are you doing with Miso, Young-ie?” you question playfully, getting your answer soon enough when she carries Miso up to where Jungkook’s plate would be.

Your daughter seems pleased about the situation altogether, nevermind the fact that the too-chunky-for-her-age cat she’s been spoiling with treats is at the head of the table instead of Jungkook.

Hwayoung’s young. She’s young enough to the point that you can withhold entire truths from her without having to clarify your words. Even more, she’s young to the point that you can’t even tell if she’ll remember this point in her childhood for the years to come.

You can’t tell if Hwayoung will even remember the chunk of time wherein Jungkook’s nowhere to be found and she’s upset about it, nor if she’ll even recall in the future about the way you’re looking at her with so much fondness and desperation at this exact moment — but nevertheless, you want Hwayoung to be young in the same way you want to be honest.

Neither you and Jungkook can withhold anything from her if it means making her happy; even if it means she won’t do something as futile as making a cat a placeholder for her dad.

“Do you miss him, baby?” you hum, feeling for your phone in your pocket as you rub the ridges of its case over and over again while deep in thought. You can’t even tell why you asked that because you know the answer already, regardless of your daughter beaming and nodding her head fervently.

“Do you wanna go on a trip?” you whisper to her ear as if it’s a secret, immediately getting her giddy. You comb through her hair with your fingers as she basically bounces on her seat, already clapping her hands because she knows the word and everything fun that it entailed. “Let’s surprise your appa, hm?”

It’ll just be a last-minute airline ticket purchase, which would happen to be Hwayoung’s first-ever plane ride that Jungkook won’t be there to see because the whole trip’s purpose is to get to him. It’ll just be a rest day or two that you have to coordinate and apologize for over and over again for the potential inconveniences you’ll create. It’ll just be a blip in Hwayoung’s memory soon enough, one you’re uncertain if she’ll even remember, but you figure that it’ll be worth it.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you think as you cram yours and Hwayoung’s belongings into a single backpack with no other luggage in tow.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you rethink while contemplating about how it’s rare for you to be impulsive, but at your fate, with respect to Jungkook, you completely surrender.

It’ll be worth it because it’s Jungkook, you mutter under your breath as you hastily plan with Jimin on the phone about your temporary quick leave, if he can look after Miso, and how to get to the airport without being noticed and most importantly, without Hwayoung being pictured at all.

Your daughter doesn’t know any better about how you and Jungkook go to extreme lengths to protect her, or how the straps of your backpack are digging into your shoulders, or how you’re nervous because it’s her first plane ride and you don’t know how she’ll take it, or how you’re ready to bolt immediately with her in your arms because she’s only yours and Jungkook’s and no one else’s.

You’re not the world-famous and critically acclaimed actress in this long-haul flight; you’re a mom to Hwayoung trying to get her to yawn repeatedly so her ears wouldn’t get clogged, you’re a mom hanging her head down in apology when it’s the fourth flight attendant to approach you asking for a picture, and you’re a mom who just happens to be extremely desperate and humble to beg said flight attendants to help you deplane first so nobody else would look at your or your daughter.

For a split second, or even for as long as you hold Hwayoung and beyond that, you forget the trophies and plaques attached to your name.

You no longer want to be the best when in your arms, Hwayoung’s jet-lagged and fighting through said fatigue, because you’ve convinced not only her but yourself, that it’ll all be worth it because it’s Jungkook.

( ♡ ) 

Hwayoung sleeps in your arms the whole time.

You figure that she’s out cold because you’re wearing Jungkook’s hoodie, knowing better than anyone about how your baby gets completely placated whenever she’s held. It’s heartwarming to see her this way even in such odd circumstances, the fist that’s curled up on your shirt reminding you when things used to be a little more simple.

The stress that’s been accumulating inside your temples threaten to burst and you fear that you’ll be set off by the most miniscule thing while you’re on your way to Jungkook. You’re sleepless and you’re bubbling inside with annoyance and it takes an absurd amount of energy from you to try and contain yourself.

Coordinating with Jimin through the phone makes your nostils flare, even if he’s trying his best to be helpful. Seeing people on the street in large groups, without even knowing the reason why, makes your jaw clench. Even the driver who keeps looking at you on the rearview mirror in concern makes you want to rip your hair out.

You’re frustrated and angry, even if you try convince yourself that Jungkook is worth all the fuss.

“Young-ie,” you whisper, shaking her awake gently. Your free hand’s already gripping your backpack even if you’re still minutes away; if only you had the remaining patience (maybe even optimism) to look at yourself, you’ll see the irony of you being the equivalent of overeager dads you hate on airplanes that immediately stand upon landing, even when the connecting tube to the terminal hasn’t been attached yet. “Wake up, baby. We’re getting closer.”

Everything feels a little heavy. The weight of your backpack is not the problem, and neither is Hwayoung who’s glued to you by the hip.

You have the terrifying idea in the back of your head, locked and loaded for anyone (read: Jungkook) to see if they take the additional second to ask you, that you’ll have to suffer all over again; that you’ll have to establish an ultimatum with a time limit of sorts, just so you can nullify the vacancy in you by pushing Jungkook away again.

Even now, a part of you wonders about Sora. 

She’s no longer a part of your husband’s life, for good this time, yet she occupies your mind every once in a while as if she’s a bad meal on a bad day you have to stomach over and over again. You want to vomit her out completely and rid yourself of the taste of being inferior to who came before you, and yet, she lingers like a stray who knows its home.

You wonder if she’s happy with her life and how it turned out, even if Jungkook’s no longer in it despite being each other’s first for everything. You wonder if she ever thinks about Jungkook whenever it’s April 23 or when she walks past tent bars; if she’s ever married now and has a family like you and her first love do.

You wonder about Sora from time to time because if Jungkook really loved her, you fear that a little bit of it would always linger.

In the same way that you had really loved a multitude of things growing up, little bits of them would always linger even if you’ve sworn off them. 

Your old obsession with tiny bottles of perfume you could only buy from boutiques (and never from malls) resurfaces whenever you visit your parents and magically, they always have a box filled up with your childhood shirts they’ve spared for Hwayoung to wear, imbued with a scent you can place to a memory, but not replicate.

The old fixation you had on patchwork blankets lingers whenever you head to the stockroom to store a PR package you could justify keeping for future purposes, only to see the unopened stacks of shirts you’ve gotten from numerous workshops, countries, and tapings as mementos throughout the years. They sit there in the dust, waiting patiently for you to take notice, but you avert your eyes as to not start a project you can’t bring yourself to finish.

The old liking you had towards the color orange stains on your fingers whenever you peel tangerines for Hwayoung, training a keen eye on her as she holds it for herself while slicing the portions you have at hand for her to eat safely. 

You wonder about Sora and if she ever holds the regret of letting go of Jungkook for someone like you.

You wonder if Jungkook’s love for her, although dissolved and voided already, lingers through the existence of Eunsu — someone who’s much, much different than you, just like Sora was.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy and you stand by it, because holding Hwayoung while carrying the backpack that’s meant to sustain the both of you in a foreign country, just because you don’t want any excess baggage as you surprise Jungkook out of nowhere, has never felt lighter in your heart.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you wonder why the door to Jungkook’s hotel room is open by itself without needing a key.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you meet several pairs of eyes that either locks or avoids your own, all for a multitude of reasons. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, pupils shaking as you instinctively turn Hwayoung’s head away from the sight before you. “What’s going on?”

Your husband, who’s evidently rattled for more reasons than one and is dressed in his pajamas, stares at you head-on with his bottom lip trembling.

His staff members, some of which you recognize, avoid your gaze whilst one of them continues talking on the phone with an apologetic bow.

The members of hotel security, both of which are a little lost in what’s happening because they’ve only been suddenly called to the room of a husband to a celebrity they didn’t catch the name of in a hurry, gasp in realization when they recognize you instantly.

Eunsu, who’s clad in only a silky nightgown that leaves almost nothing to the imagination as she’s restrained to a chair by hotel security, scoffs at your presence.

.

.

.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” Jungkook repeatedly mumbles to you, even if he only catches a shadow of you lingering somewhere as you bounce in between places trying to sort everything out.

“I-I didn’t do anything. We didn’t do anything. I never wanted things to go like this in the first place,” he says to you over and over again, even if you’re on the phone with Jimin to get ahead of damage control if the news ever breaks out.

“I’d never.. I-I’d never cheat on you, Y/N. I’ll never hurt you,” your husband whispers to you like a broken record, running his thumb over your knuckles to try and get you to calm down as if you’ve lost your cool for the past two hours.

The whole thing’s been foiled.

Neither you, Jungkook, or even the staff can even think about the short film’s immediate downfall without it even being released yet because from the get-go, it had already been a raging wildfire with Eunsu in it.

There’s no talk about the film. 

There’s no talk about the hours, efforts, and even money wasted on it because all that you could think about— all that everyone who knew of the situation just now could think about, is how Eunsu broke into Jungkook’s hotel room to seduce him.

There's no talk about the unspoken rule in between the staff to tiptoe around their executive producer’s wife, and most especially his daughter. It’s no secret that the two of you dropped in unannounced (they recall Jungkook being miserable so they knew there was no way he could predict his family was about to surprise him), and yet with the way they give you space and nothing but humility, you’d mistaken them for devoted fans.

There’s only hushed, cordial conversations between everyone to keeps things up to date and under wraps. There’s only gratitude, pity, and assurance thrown your way about how they never liked Eunsu in the first place and how you were such a good, filial wife and mother to clean up the mess attached to Jungkook’s name whilst keeping Hwayoung close to you the entire time.

“She’s detained by the police now. I’ve already called up lawyers back at home. We’re pressing charges,” you say, finally standing in one place. “I have Jimin drafting everything in place in case word gets out.

You’ve been going back and forth trying to sort everything and everyone from the police, to the hotel security, and even Jungkook’s staff — even if you’ve already vacated Jungkook’s room for the three of you to be transferred to a different room in a different hotel entirely, not once have you set Hwayoung down.

You haven’t even let him hold her once since landing here.

Jungkook’s shaking in anger, or atleast whatever it is that drowns him whole even if his head is only submerged in between his knees as he tries to breathe. He’s spoken perfectly and concisely when he was asked for his statement. He’s spoken without a hitch when asked for his honesty, and he hasn’t even faltered once when he asked for the footage of Eunsu seducing a receptionist to break into his room to support his rock-solid testimony.

Jungkook even cussed Eunsu without stuttering as she basically confesses her crime (while cursing you, who didn’t want to look at her, in the process) whilst being dragged away by the cops.

Ironically, the only people who had everything going on for him whom he momentarily tried to distance himself from, are the first people to his rescue. The bed in the new room is more than massive, yet you don’t even lay Hwayoung on it; she’s still in your arms that are screaming to give out, and the backpack you’ve packed for the both of you is yet to be opened, sitting on the opposite side of the room to Jungkook’s massive luggage.

Everything has failed and collapsed around Jungkook, yet it’s you who cleans up after him.

.

.

.

You only let Hwayoung sleep on the bed once you needed to book separate flight tickets.

“It’s not a problem for me. We’ll be less recognizable together,” Jungkook answers quickly when you question him if he could take Hwayoung back while you get on a later flight.

He’s snappy this way, trying to ignore the raging pounding on his head that you’re upset with him; that perhaps not only were you disgusted with him, but you were also exhausted of him entirely.

There’s a massive knot in Jungkook’s throat that doesn’t want to untangle in the slightest. He feels like he’s about to choke on nothing because he rethinks that he has no right to feel tired; that he has no right to close his eyes for even a second because you haven’t slept for a day and even longer, and that he has no right to feel this low when he’s dragged you down even lower.

You only nod quietly at his answer, clicking on your phone without meeting his eyes as you blow money on last-minute flights without even flinching.

“You okay?” 

You ask softly, the bags under your eyes more evident under the warm lighting. You’re sitting on a chair at the corner of the room like you’re a complete stranger while Jungkook’s sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s only a familiar guest. 

It’s only Hwayoung in this room who’s acting as if she belongs here. 

Right now, it’s only your daughter serving as the common denominator that you have with Jungkook — with her asleep, your husband can’t even tell if he’s on the same ground with you. 

“Did she touch you anywhere?” you add, slouching on your knees. You’ve never laid back since you’ve gotten here, the fear that something bad would happen to you or anyone in your family if you took your eye off the ball for the slightest second overtaking you.

Even after you’ve cleaned up Jungkook’s mess, it’s you who tries to reach out; it’s you who tries to keep everything and everyone together, even if it’s by the thinnest thread that incessantly digs into the palm of your hands, even tighter than how your wedding ring could.

“No, no. She didn’t even get close. I just… I immediately yelled so the staff nearby heard,” Jungkook answers truthfully, shaking his head slowly in the process.

You say that it’s a relief nothing else happened, and reiterate that you and Jimin have all exits covered.

You say that you’re sorry that it happened to him, and reiterate that you’re pressing charges.

You say that you’re there in case he wants to talk about it more, and reiterate that he has to wake up early so he and Hwayoung could go on the first flight back home.

Jungkook feels extraordinarily guilty. He feels so much regret in his stomach that he wants to throw up because your contained frustration for him is unbearable to the point that it brings him to tears.

"Give it to me," he inhales sharply, shoulders trembling as he buries his face in his hands. "Just give it to me."

“What are you talking about?”

"Why won't you yell at me?!” Jungkook sobs painfully, his own hand slapping down on his mouth as he tries to keep his volume down so Hwayoung could keep sleeping. He feels as if he’s tethering over the edge the longer that you look at him stoically, his fingernails digging to his palms roughly to the point that he draws blood. ”Why won't you tell me I told you so? Why can't you tell me that I had it coming?"

Everything and everyone except you is falling apart around Jungkook, and it brings him to his knees.

“Do you want me to punish you? Is that it?” you ask, clenching your jaw until it aches. 

Jungkook looks miserable this way. He looks like a devastated sinner awaiting judgement from a god whom he once lost his faith to. He looks like your husband begging, not for forgiveness, but for something more painful for as long as you feel compensated for what he’s caused you.

“You want me where to hit you where it hurts, Jungkook?” you laugh dryly, making him raise his head up as he nods slowly yet definitively, the tears on his face not close to stopping.

You say nothing while Jungkook expects everything, your husband unable to decode what you say under your breath as you turn your back on him to go shower.

You get out of the bathroom eventually, finally seeing that he doesn’t have his forehead touching the carpet.

Instead, Jungkook’s passed out from crying and has himself curled up into a little ball on the same chair you’ve sat on just awhile ago, with your clean change of clothes pressed on the bed right next to your daughter.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook looks for you in everybody but he finds you in no one.

He woke up far earlier than his alarm (not that he had been in a deep slumber anyway) and the perpetual ache all over his body reminds him of that, his eyes glazing over you as if it’s the last he’ll see of you for decades.

Hwayoung stirs awake at the same time that he does, and for a moment, Jungkook thinks that everything’s okay.

For a split second, he mistakes today as one of your workdays wherein he wakes up early to prepare you your breakfast and it just happens that Hwayoung wanted to be a joey to a first-time kangaroo mother. He mistakes your little family in this hotel room to be a perfect one, wherein his only biggest hurdle in life is to keep his daughter inside his do-it-yourself sling while trying not to overcook your fried rice.

Apparently, Jungkook mistakes everything and everyone to be in favor of you, of him, to the point that he had deliberately ignored your plea to work with Eunsu all this time ago, and that decision of his has majorly, if not completely, undone everything you tried to work on for your family.

He tries to find you in the elderly lady who looks at him in pity as Hwayoung cries while they’re in first class seats, the shallow breaths he tries to ground himself to (so he wouldn’t panic and text you in fear of bothering you) doing nothing in the long run.

Your husband tries to find you in the foreign flight attendant who despite not knowing him or whom he’s married to, offers to hold Hwayoung as she explained that she’s a mother and also has a toddler at home.

Jungkook tries to find you in the remnants of your perfume on his daughter’s shirt. Hwayoung’s already stopped crying after some time of being cradled by the flight attendant, and the sight of his daughter calming down because of a stranger (who is obviously better than him) makes him want to be ground to a fine powder for everyone to walk over.

He feels ashamed in a way that he can’t even put into words. Jungkook feels far too inadequate, far too undeserving, and far, far pathetic that he fears not even his constant apologies to you would ever be enough.

Jungkook feels ashamed even when you take the last flight home and you go through the door like nothing’s wrong between the two of you, simply because Hwayoung’s watching. He feels like a dog fetching you your house slippers automatically but he wants to be reduced to something more filial; something a little more loyal to the point that it’s pathetic.

Your husband is ashamed even when you’re not awake and he can’t see your eyes avoiding his whenever your daughter’s not around.

Jungkook holds you tighter in his sleep, going so far as to kneel by the side of your bed instead of reaching across you, so Hwayoung wouldn't be caught in the middle — even if she’s already been since the start.

( ♡ ) 

Outside of you and Jungkook, only Jimin and Yoongi know about what happened.

You have your pride holding you back from telling your parents because in the back of your mind, there still lies the instinct of wanting to protect Jungkook, your own family, from the family that raised you.

You have no one to confide to except for your manager, who’s technically obligated to know what’s been going on with you when you suddenly call him up to tell that you’re surprising Jungkook in the US, only for your next call to consist of you asking for his help in a terse manner– and your best friend, who’s the first person Jimin calls whenever you’re in need of serious assistance.

There’s been no headlines of Eunsu breaking in and entering Jungkook’s hotel room, along with the follow-up details of how you and your daughter (whose existence is known but her privacy maintained to the highest level you can maintain) arrived as a surprise, only to be confounded by the very scene of your rival in a nightgown, held back by guards.

You know it’s going to come eventually.

You know the telltale dread that fills you up when something far bigger and beyond you is on its path to overtake you. The articles, the scrutiny, and the discourses haven’t even entered the stage yet you already feel sick because this time, it’s not only your name that’s going to be dragged into a situation you never thought would happen.

It’s also your daughter’s.

“We need to talk about Hwayoung,” you approach Jungkook as soon as you come home after your overtime, stilling in your tracks when you see Hwayoung sleeping in her pen.

Jungkook’s eyes linger on her before looking at you properly this time, the knot on his throat loosening at the prospect of what’s been bothering his mind repeatedly, but with the promise of a solution that he hasn’t arrived at, yet is bound to hurt him nonetheless.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

You sit on the far end of the baby blue floor couch as if you and Jungkook don’t share a home together.

“We look okay to her now but still,” you pause, looking down on your feet that are bruising from the heels you’ve been filming with all day and night. “I don’t want to put her in the middle of… everything that thisis.”

Jungkook nods, not only because he understands, but because he’s aware of everything, all the way from the guilt of being a husband to the guilt of being a dad. 

“She’s bound to ask questions too, and even if she’s not asking them now, I feel bad having to keep her in the dark.”

“She’s still young, Jungkook. I never thought I’d say this, but I mean,” you sigh, shrugging defeatedly as you try to look for the right words. “If we keep including her in situations that she shouldn’t be a part of, we’re only bringing her closer to harm. For all we know, someone somewhere has a picture of her during the trip.”

“I-I tried my best. I moved as fast as I-…”

“I know. I also tried my best when we took the trip to you,” you exhale heavily, trying to wrap your head around the complexity of the past week alone; you can’t even understand why you pushed yourself to go back to work immediately after going back home. “I’m not saying that Hwayoung’s known already. I’m just considering the possibility because we could never be too sure.”

Jungkook knows you’re trying to get rid of the guilt that forms in him for that matter, but for everything else, he knows better than to assume of you.

“Do you…” he swallows. “Do you also think that Hwayoung needs a breather from us? Not the other way around, of course, but you know-…”

“I know what you mean,” you nod your head, the guilt of being a mom to a Hwayoung coming easily these days. “It’ll be good for her to be around other people. To be away from what we have going on.”

You and Jungkook share a guilt that’s only unique to having Hwayoung under your circumstances, and it’s a burden you want to get rid of without ever hurting her in the process.

“We can’t have my parents babysit. They read me easily and I don’t want them to know,” you confide, making your husband hang his head in shame even if it wasn’t your intention.

“My parents can’t either. They went on a cruise.”

“I don’t trust nannies,” you add, making Jungkook nod deliberately.

“Who can we trust then?” he sighs, rubbing his hand all over his face as he tries to scour his brain for people. “Who do we have in our lives that Hwayoung trusts too?”

Your head tilts after a few seconds in realization, and Jungkook’s mind drifts to his daughter’s godfather whether he likes it or not.

You and your husband have the same idea in mind, with one being less fond of it than the other.

“I’ll call Yoongi.”

( ♡ ) 

“I want to be your personal assistant.”

Jungkook says in one breath, right in the middle of making your lunchbox. 

You woke up early in the first place because you neither thought nor expected for him to do it for you, but with the way he’s nearly done and making more than necessary, you’re clearly due to be corrected.

Without Hwayoung to tend to, Jungkook itches to have a purpose. He wants to be needed even if he isn’t and the thought always springs up on him whenever his girls are by themselves. The use of him, although not always necessary, is what keeps Jungkook up on his feet these days, nevermind the excruciating guilt and desperation of wanting to make it up to you.

He almost always came to accompany you to your shootings before Hwayoung came around and he’s reminded of it as he packages your meal, his shaking pupils meeting your own that are only begging for any sort of explanation.

It’s not that you don’t want Jungkook to try — it just happens that it’s been awhile since it was only, truly the two of you.

“Why?"

“Because I want to,” he merely shrugs, and when he steps out of the kitchen, you only keep your frown to yourself as you realize that he’s already dressed for the day.

Jungkook doesn’t invade your space like he usually does but he sits close enough to you on the drive to your shooting location; enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from him without being overwhelmed.

It’s been more than a long time since this happened that you’ve practically forgotten what it felt going to work with Jungkook.

You forgot how your husband steps out of the car first to hold all of your things in one hand with the other reaching out to help you down. 

You forgot how he has a natural scowl on his face and how despite your staff knowing that you’re already married (and to him specifically), they can’t believe the sight of the two of you together.

You forgot how Jungkook likes to hang around you as if he’s a dog with only one owner in any place he can call home as long as he’s with you, that you forget to tell Jimin that you haven’t told your husband about the upcoming press conference at all.

Without even trying, Jungkook overhears Jimin (who’s giving him the cold shoulder) going through your schedule for the next two weeks, his jaw grinding at the particular event that he already knows is important without any explanation—

Without any heads-up from you at all, it seems like.

Jimin’s already left your trailer several minutes ago but Jungkook’s eyes are still fixated on the chair he sat on, his eyes looking past the flooring and deeper into the ground that he wants to be one with out of disbelief– out of shame, even.

You always told him about your schedule and you didn’t leave anything out — it’s only now when it dawns on him that you haven’t been telling him about your work at all.

“Do you not want me there?” he asks, his voice thick with confusion. “Are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“It’s not like that, Jungkook.”

“Then make me understand,” he pleads with the hint of despair, the disbelief that coats his tone all throughout being entirely transparent.

You didn’t plan on how to break the news to him. You didn’t plan on letting Jungkook know about the media event at all.

There’s no other response that springs up to your throat except for the one that only exists since he’s had that drunken fight with you. 

“Because I don’t want you to ruin it again for me, okay?” you lick your lips, going more and more breathless the more that Jungkook mirrors how you looked back then when you begged him all those years ago. “Because the last time that I had a big press conference like this, you ruined it for me too.” 

The thought of Sora, and then Eunsu, and then Jungkook himself come hand in hand, and you wonder when will you stop suffering from the though process that haunts you whenever you’re reminded of press conferences — of your entire work in general.

“I don’t want to be reminded that you hate the life I gave you.”

Jungkook feels the urge to tuck his head in between his knees again, but he doesn’t want to run away this time.

“I said I’m sorry,” he surrenders as he lacks the words he had been telling you in numerous variations for the past days and weeks.

He didn’t think it had hurt this bad the last time around.

"And I only forgave you because it seemed right at the time," you clench your jaw, your exhale being more shaky than you expected. “I only forgave you because I had Hwayoung in my mind."

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s getting back into the groove of being by your side at work.

You’re still not fully adjusted to the sight of Jungkook during tapings, all while he moves about like it’s always been in his nature to assist you. He’s overeager in a lot of things, so much so that his presence practically attracts more attention than you do on set. 

It was just yesterday when Jungkook hollered and clapped his hands loudly after you say a long, emotional line before the director said cut and before your co-star could even say her line next, which led to you having to re-do the scene.

It was just two days before when he audibly groaned when an extra had to whistle at you for a scene and literally walked right into the set with his fists clenched, forgetting entirely that you were filming and that a random guy just didn’t catcall his wife in front of him.

It was just two minutes ago, when you ban Jungkook completely from watching you act.

“I’ll do it,” he perks up at the stylist as if he hadn’t been sulking to you just two minutes ago, his hands already fixing themselves on your arms to get you to stand up.

“Jungkook-…”

“But Mr. Jeon-“ she squeaks, about to say her thrice-rehearsed piece of doing her job (everyone on set has been warned about your husband making them jobless) when Jungkook basically carries you to your dressing room.

“No, no, I said I’ll do it!” he practically squeaks, setting you down wordlessly with a giddy smile on his face.

Jungkook’s too good at getting back into the groove of being by your side, you almost forget that the two of you aren’t entirely okay.

He gets you into your gown with utmost care (albeit a little confusion along the way), his hands caressing you with the familiarity that only he carries. Jungkook carries a weight with him that settles when he touches you in any which way, the weariness of his fingers dispersing as soon as you give him the slightest attention.

He may have looked stupid pretending he didn’t know how corsets worked or how petticoats are worn first before the actual gown, but his denseness had atleast bought a little more time from you.

A little more warmth.

Jungkook looks at you intimately, not in the way that’s begging for you to want to jump his bones, but in the way that he knows who you hated throughout the workday while having his warm hands work on your calves.

He knows every inch of you, which may be the reason his hands feel warmer on you than you recall, all the way to the tips of your toes that feel trapped all of a sudden.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I think they’re gonna swap out my shoes anyway because they won’t be seen,” you murmur, trying to avoid the heels and the pain they bring but not until he hushes you.

“I’m not putting on your heels. I’m putting on your socks.”

“I don’t need socks.”

“Your cold dogs keep rubbing up on my legs at night whenever you forget to put them on,” he snickers out of nowhere and it brings out a sudden snort from you, the brief and unorthodox moment hanging over you whilst the two of you gloss over the fact that not only have you not been intimate for so long, but you’ve also not cuddled despite sleeping in the same bed.

Jungkook walks you to your set with his hands raised in surrender, already murmuring to your worried director that he’ll stay out this time as soon as he finishes taking you.

“Wait,” he squeaks before turning back to you, making everyone else hold their breaths to see if they could retain their jobs today. Jungkook carefully removes your wedding ring that you forgot to stash, wearing it snugly on his pinky instead. “Just for safekeeping.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s not fond of the rain.

He’s not fond of it especially when your job requires you to stand under it.

“Your hazard pay should be ginormous for the work they’re making you go through,” he mutters, holding up an umbrella for you as some stylists make quick work of already pre-soaking you before the scene starts.

“It’s just a little rain,” you roll your eyes, about to shove your hands in your pockets because it’s getting a little cold already yet Jungkook notices before you even could, holding both of them with just one massive hand as he leans the umbrella more to your side.

“They should cancel the filming today. It’s pouring,” he continues like he’s never heard you, even if the rain isn’t terrifyingly bad. The weather’s only fitting because the scene calls for it, but even so, Jungkook feels hesitant.

He lets go of your hands for a brief second to retrieve the handkerchief that’s tucked to the waistband of his pants, already unraveling it for you in waiting.

“Blow.”

“What?” you narrow your eyes at him, looking down on the fabric until it finally hits you in realization.

“Blow your nose,” he nudges you, nodding his head to it but it only makes you shake your head even more.

“No way!”

“Just blow your nose now so you wouldn’t feel stuffy later.”

“I’m not gonna feel stuffy later. It’s just a little rain,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms together as you beg internally for the lighting to be fixed so you could shoo your husband away.

“Blow your nose while I’m still asking.”

“Ew, no. I’ll look like a child in front of — Jungkook!”

Before you could even comprehend it, Jungkook’s already pinching your nose with the handkerchief, forcibly making you blow your nose, uncaring of the swooning and oddly endeared eyes trained on the two of you.

“Just a little rain. Heh,” he mocks, folding the handkerchief back up with one hand to tuck back into his waistband. Jungkook moves on like it’s nothing, begrudgingly leaving you alone without an umbrella, but not without raising his voice enough for the other staff to hear. “I’ll try to scare your management into raising your hazard pay.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook likes peeling fruits for you and Hwayoung.

He doesn’t like the sticky residue nor the lasting smell that gets stuck underneath his fingernails, but he manages. He’d only eat your leftovers and he wouldn’t do it for himself anyway, even if he knows you always get a little irked by the fact.

It’s his habit now to cut fruits for you in the most Hwayoung-tolerable slices possible, the bowl of tinily-cut tangerines underneath your hands as you skim through your script making him uncharacteristically silent; if he wasn’t apologizing to you, you would be talking each other’s ear off about Hwayoung.

He tries not to make a big deal out of brushing your hair because it’s been a while since the last time, instead reading your script along with you so he’ll be distracted. Jungkook doesn’t know if he can focus as hard as you do or remain like so for even longer, but at the moment, there’s only one line on the script that stands out to him.

It stands out, not because it’s long nor vulgar, but because the line belongs to him.

“That scene — will it be filmed today?” Jungkook asks, breaking the silence as he traces the words with his finger.

“Huh? This one?” you follow to where he points, shaking his head as you try to remember. “No. It’ll be next week, I think. I’m just memorizing in advance.”

Jungkook hums but it’s not out of interest, the sound that comes from him instead bordering on a wince. There’s a terse look on his face that you could only liken to jealousy, the thought of it unexpectedly making you snicker.

“Calm down, Jungkook. It’s not a kissing scene.”

“But you say I love you to him, though.”

“That’s worse?”

“Maybe. Probably,” he shrugs, the uncalled-for thought about what he’d feel if there’s a scene where you have to have (read: acting to have) sex making his throat close up painfully. “I can’t tell.”

The thought crosses your mind too, but you’d rather not dwell on it.

“How do I look like when I say I love you?”

Jungkook purses his lips, pausing from brushing out the section of hair he’s passed through more than ten times out of distraction (read: devastation).

You look like love itself if it had been personified. 

You look like an unexplainable feeling in an interrupted dream he had been born with, and his sole mission in life is to seek you.

You look like what miracles do and he’s the first witness each and every time until you’re canonized by everyone, except he always wants to place himself at your feet as your first devotee.

“I know exactly what you look like when you tell me you love me,” Jungkook answers. “But I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” you laugh at his defensiveness, replacing your gaze on him through the mirror just to crane your neck up at him so you could see his reaction more closely.

“Because you only have to act it out,” he shrugs, eventually laughing along with you even if he means every word. “I want to be the only one that knows what you look like when you’re saying the truth.”

( ♡ ) 

It’s your first good day in a week and a half.

It’s actually the first day wherein you and Jungkook talked simply because you wanted to; the first day wherein your conversations didn’t revolve around Hwayoung and pestering Yoongi to send more pictures of her, and the first day wherein Jungkook didn’t try apologizing.

You hum in content as you sit on the couch as soon as you come home, your husband following suit and sitting next to you instead of giving you space.

There’s only a centimeter worth of distance between your hands placed on the couch, and if Jungkook only twitched in faux accident, his pinky (the one that still wore your wedding band) would be brushing yours already.

“It’s like we’re kids again,” you smile to yourself, looking around the entire house. You remember how your ceilings didn’t used to be this high and how your space didn’t used to be this wide — you remember how you and Jungkook weren’t always like this.

“We are kids,” he emphasizes, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Aren’t we pushing thirty?”

“I don’t wanna go into details right now,” he murmurs, slouching further into the couch and nearer to you, his hair that’s growing past his ears lightly brushing against your shoulder.

Jungkook looks around the house too, his eyes glazing past Hwayoung’s playpen, the laundry of a family of three that he’s yet to fold, and the toys of a cat who hates him that he has to sort out soon enough.

Jungkook’s life wasn’t always this way and although he appreciates the fact, he’s terrified by the possibility that it’ll be this double-edged sword that’s waiting to happen.

In the same way that worship is optional but devotion is necessary, Jungkook tries to hold you as tightly as he could without pushing you away.

“Baby,” he rasps out, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to make sense of the ache that blooms in his chest. “What if…”

“What’s in your head, Kook?”

In the same way that devotion is necessary but worship is optional, Jungkook toes the line with a question that he has no telling what the answer is to.

“If you had the option to have Hwayoung with someone who isn’t me,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of the immediate pang in his heart that follows.“Would you still have her?”

You think for a second and answer immediately, even if Jungkook wanted you to stay silent for longer because he’s afraid of what you would say.

“That’s not Hwayoung then.”

“No but I mean hypothetically, if you could have Hwayoung-…”

“I got what you meant the first time,” you interrupt him, gently shrugging him to get up from your shoulder so he’d look at you without running away. “That’s not Hwayoung,” you mumble, trying to keep up with the myriad of thoughts that he had opened up. “Hwayoung’s only Hwayoung because she’s part me and part you.”

Jungkook nods, except he doesn’t understand. You could say your piece over and over again, but Jungkook still wouldn’t understand because he doesn’t know what he wants to hear from you either.

“But what if she has all of you and you could pick someone else to be her dad,” he croaks, looking down on the floor with a grief that belongs only to him. “Would you still want her?”

“I want Hwayoung because she’s my daughter with you, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I could pick someone to be her dad and that someone is you. I already chose you — what’s hard to understand about that?”

You hear Jungkook asking you the question over and over again, even if his mouth is already shut. You see him looking at you with tears in his eyes even if they’re downcast on the floor in reality.

You feel yourself wavering even if you’re definite about your answer.

“You made me a mom and I made you a dad.”

“But I doomed us into this,” Jungkook weakly counters. “If only… i-if only I changed my ways earlier, if I — if I could’ve been just content with this perfect life you built for us, t-then we wouldn’t be-…”

Jungkook inhales sharply, the choke that soon follows ringing in your ears to the point that it pricks tears from your eyes. 

“We wouldn’t be in this situation, Y/N. I turned us into this,” he sobs. “If only I could’ve been s-satisfied, Hwayoung would be in my arms at this time while we wait for you to come home,” Jungkook shakes his head painfully, the clench of his fists evident even when you’re only looking at him from the corner of your eye. “If only I thought everything you— you spoon-fed me was enough, then Yoongi, of all people, wouldn’t be babysitting our daughter right now,” he pauses. “Why can’t I be in your press conference?”

You don’t have to look anywhere in the house to realize that Hwayoung’s playpen is empty.

You don’t have to tune anything out to realize that Hwayoung isn’t here in between the two of you, talking and giggling as you go about your day while you’re still wearing your outside clothes; while she’s still in her pajamas because she wanted to wait for you to come home.

The gravity of everything hits you all at once, making you hiccup in tears.

“You were really mean, Jungkook.”

In the same way that worship is optional but devotion is necessary, Jungkook listens to you even if it’s you cursing him.

“I’m not the best mom there is because I’ve missed so much milestones. I… I-I’ve missed so much trying to secure everything for you, for Hwayoung, f-for us because I don’t know how much more I could take,” you sob, burying your face in your hands. “Do you know how hard it is for me? Do you know how hard it is for me to work alone while knowing that my husband and daughter have each other at home? That I don’t have someone while I put myself out there?”

There’s a strain of grief in your heart that only you carry, and Jungkook can’t do anything about it.

“I feel so, so, s-so fucking guilty, Jungkook!” you shriek, your cheeks turning blotchy the more that you cry. “I-I… I had to pick up this child— this child actor— over and over again because my fake role is to be his mother,” you strain a laugh humorlessly, trying to screw your eyes shut so you wouldn’t see Hwayoung’s laundry from the corner of your eye. “Meanwhile, I can’t even hold my own child because her appa’s already taking good care of her at home.”

In the same way that devotion is necessary but worship is optional, Jungkook takes it, takes you, should this be his punishment.

“Jungkook, if you envy me, then you don’t know how much I envy you more,” you exhale in defeat, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “If only I could, do you think I wouldn’t drop everything just to stay at home with you and Hwayoung?” 

“You could be mad at me all you want, Jungkook, but I still don’t want you to go to the press con.” 

“It’s different now, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, his eyes rubbed red and raw as he pleads with you silently because no word, no litany can save him now.

“But how different is now from then? It’s like we’re kids again, Jungkook,” you whisper. “If you were the one in my place, would you drop everything if I asked you to?” you add, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Can you drop everything if I asked you to?”

( ♡ ) 

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, he’s never met Sora, and you happen to be his first everything.

In a dream your husband doesn’t tell anyone, he doesn’t know of Eunsu’s existence, and if he were to know about her, he only happens to think about her as your rival and nothing more.

In a dream he doesn’t tell anyone, he didn’t wake up late in your bed, and he most certainly heard Yoongi ringing the bell eagerly because he wanted to take Hwayoung home to see the both of you before you go to your press conference.

Jungkook bounds down the stairs so quickly that he almost trips on the way down. His hair is still unkempt and his shirt remains askew, yet he still goes down anyway with a speed you can’t even decipher because he’s already heard his daughter cheerful screaming.

"Up, up!" Hwayoung claps her hands, looking at Jungkook’s direction but not at him — instead, she’s looking at Yoongi who’s emerging from the kitchen.

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, Hwayoung doesn’t know anyone except for you and him.

“Up, appa! Up!”

In a nightmare that Jungkook’s experiencing in real time, Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi as her dad.

[qualityjoonie]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[qualityjoonie]

Oh, What A World｜Masterlist

series summary ↣ all jimin wanted was to get his career back. but thanks to his bosses, he’s tasting wedding cakes instead of training for a comeback. with you by his side though, he might be enjoying it more than he had anticipated.

pairing ↣ f. lawyer!reader x solo artist!jimin 

genre ↣ fake marriage au, fallen idol au｜fluff, angst, smut

word count ↣ 140k+

warnings ↣ a little bit of fuckboy!jimin (though he’s actually really sweet), mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, brief mentions of drug use, alcohol consumption, unrequited feelings, mentions of insecurity, unprotected sex, marking/possessive sex, reader is described as being shorter than jimin, member x member side pairing (check chapter warnings for more details!)

beta readers ↣ @yoongsgguktae and @hobi-gif ♡

notes ↣ the premise is a little angsty but i swear it’s also meant to be fluffy! the title of this series is inspired by the kacey musgraves song, check it out! banner credits: 1, 2. updated 16/5/2021.

#1 Make It Right  #2 Advice #3 uhgood #4 About A Girl #5 How To Draw #6 Suck It and See #7 Not A Bad Thing #8 Between the Raindrops (m) #9 Greek Tragedy #10 Ivy #11 Hardest To Love #12 Wake Up Alone #13 No Pressure #14 Call It What You Want #15 There You Are (m) Epilogue

+ bonus content + mini sequel

[qualityjoonie]

fail-safe; series masterlist

pairing: yoongi x reader

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

warnings: a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts + specified tags in each installment!

notes: thank you so much for all the love n patience for fail-safe 🫂🩷 i Love ur brains pls send ur thoughts n rants here :)

cross-posted on ao3. early access + exclusive content on patreon.

01: part one

02: intermission

03: part two

04: intermission 02

05: part three; finale

[qualityjoonie]

fail-safe (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.

alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: i am So sorry for this .

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

FIVE YEARS LATER

The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.

Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.

Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.

“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.

He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.

It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.

He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Neither could you.

Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.

Yoongi’s home.

Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.

Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.

.

.

.

Enduring is different than working.

You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.

You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.

There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.

Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.

In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.

The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.

It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.

Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.

Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.

Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.

“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”

“Yeah. Just us.”

Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.

Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

.

.

.

You’re numb if that’s the word for it.

Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.

Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.

Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.

You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.

Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.

“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.

Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.

“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.

He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.

“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.

Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.

You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.

To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.

The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.

You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.

Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.

“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.

“No, Joon. You give it.”

“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.

“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”

You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.

Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.

Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.

“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.

Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.

“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.

“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”

The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”

“This is not about the bug spray!”

“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”

Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”

You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.

“Don’t call me that.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.

He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.

You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.

You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.

Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.

It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.

“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.

“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.

“There. Just how you like them.”

There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.

Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.

( ♡ )

If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.

You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.

Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.

You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.

You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.

You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.

You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.

“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.

Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.

Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.

“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.

“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.

Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”

Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”

“You can stop telling me these things now.”

Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.

“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”

( ♡ )

Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.

You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.

For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.

He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.

Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.

You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.

“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”

You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.

“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”

“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.

“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.

“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.

“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.

Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”

A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.

“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.

“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.

The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.

“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.

Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.

“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.

(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)

You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.

In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.

You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.

“Okay.”

Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.

( ♡ )

A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.

You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.

When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.

And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.

Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.

If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.

The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.

“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.

You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.

“Abibas.”

Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.

“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”

Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.

Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.

The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.

“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.

“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.

“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”

You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.

“I never said that!”

You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.

“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.

“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.

Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.

“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.

“And you know, play for Korea.”

“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.

( ♡ )

On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.

The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.

You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.

You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”

“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”

“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”

“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.

“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.

“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”

“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.

Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”

Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.

Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.

You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.

In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.

“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.

Yoongi only hums.

“I know.”

( ♡ )

You’re falling back into your old routine.

Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.

Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.

It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.

You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.

Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.

“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.

You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.

“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.

“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.

“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.

It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.

Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.

Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.

Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.

[qualityjoonie]

She's Testosterone

Read the Sequel: She’s Testosterone 2 Read the Final Installment: She’s Testosterone 3 Part 1|Part 2 Words: 2.4k Genre: Crack Fic. No lies here. Summary: Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji?

Cr. 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

“Turn that fucking shit off!” A groggy voice calls on the other side of the tiny room.

It takes less than a second for you to spring up from your bed with a big inhale and stretch.

It’s a new day!

A new future!

A new you!

Keep reading

[qualityjoonie]

the a-listers | ksj; masterlist

plot | Meet Y/N and Jin, two of Hollywood's hottest celebrities and couple — or are they? Media and fans have been wanting to hear a confirmation for years now. But you two are always good at confusing everyone. Watch as everyone else play this guessing game of what's the relationship between Y/N and Jin.

genres | humor/crack, fluff, angst, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | drabble series! everything that will be posted in this probably didn't happen in order. below are the titles/prompts. asks are always open.

main masterlist

instagram official — Your fans cheered as you two finally posted photos of each other on your personal accounts, possibly confirming the relationship.But it all changed quickly when you accidentally started an Instagram live.

lie detector test— During promotions of his new movie, Jin was set in a lie detector test. Surprise, surprise! He was asked about you.

masters of handling break-ups — After the tabloids released news of you and Jin ending your unconfirmed relationship, the world watches how you two will handle it.

reading thirst tweets — You and Jin read thirst tweets to each other.

the lover and the love songs — You co-wrote songs for Taylor Swift's Lover, unintentionally fueling the rumors.

year-end affair — Everyone heard nothing from you when Jin's birthday came. Only for you to reveal something during your appearance on The Tonight Show a month later.

the house is on fire — The best way to set a virtual fire is to suddenly take an unexpected break.

birthday tradition — All the things you did to greet Jin, unconsciously making it a tradition.

recently with the a listers... — A dating rumor with another personality there, a Taylor Swift collab here. This is one of the confusing days to be in the a-listers fandom.

drama, drama, drama - Being the two of the biggest celebrities in Hollywood, rumors are always unavoidable. Eyes and cameras were always pointed at you and everything you will do can be used to form some new type of ✨drama✨.

proof, they say — Every proof that random people took just to prove your relationship.

what a week! (finale) — Get ready. This is the busiest, craziest, and most intriguing week ever in your fandom with you coming back to the Hollywood scene with a bang, causing more tweets, more memes, and maybe drama about you and Jin.

QUESTION AND ANSWER W/ THE A-LISTER ➵ CLICK HERE

WHAT'S YOUR BET BETWEEN THE A-LISTERS? ➵ CLICK HERE

MORE PROOF ABOUT THE A-LISTERS? ➵ CLICK HERE

MORE THE A-LISTERS CONTENT ➵ CLICK HERE

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST [updated in every drabble]

@fatimaaaaa129 @bangtannieshope @jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @stoop18 @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @prlan @lovesickbangtan @zealouslightcookiebasketball @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @tpwk-280 @mediumcatt @bloopkook @sahazzy @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin @petalsofink

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @moonchild1 ​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic ​ @buttvi​ @starbtslove​ @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes

[qualityjoonie]

BTS GQ & VOGUE edition

| like & Reblog if you save it |

[qualityjoonie]

Rattled | JJK {Masterlist + Posting Schedule}

Chapter One - Posted March 6th, 2020

Chapter Two - Posted March 20th, 2020

Chapter Three - Posted April 3rd, 2020

Chapter Four - Posted April 17th, 2020 

Chapter Five - Posted May 1st, 2020 

Chapter Six - Posted May 15th, 2020

Chapter Seven - Posted May 29th, 2020 

Chapter Eight - Posted June 12th, 2020 

Epilogue - Posted Friday June 26th, 2020 @

{RATTLED PLAYLIST}

{banner by @stutterfly}

[qualityjoonie]

four seven eight (3)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: now that your month-long break’s over, you’re supposed to come home to jungkook at eight in the morning, right before he wakes up — it’s been two hours now, why are you still not home?

alternatively, jungkook will fight with you even if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]

[ fluff, full-fledged redemption arc I Swear, some angst, jealous jk, so much longing, references to anxiety, suggestive themes n flirting, everything gets sorted out, based on the moral dilemma of whether or not it’s okay to be friends with ur ex ]

notes: it’s the finale now can u believe :O thank u for staying tuned for the past two weeks — i sincerely cherish each one of u who’s ever interacted with 478 and took the time to be with me throughout the whole thing!! i’ll be taking a lil break this summer btw see u on the next fic <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

Keep reading

[qualityjoonie]

Hooked || masterlist

-> things get carried away with the campus good boy after you agree to help him have some actual fun at a party. but hold up now because you're not the one supposed to be hooked.

Pairings: nerd!jimin x fem!reader

Genre: college!au, mutual pining, pwp, fluff, eventual fwb 2 lovers, some angst

Warnings: explicit sexual content. noted per drabble. minors dni please.

Wc: 56K in total

If you'd like to be added to the series, leave a comment, reblog, or dm! You're already added if you're on my permanent taglist ❤️ please have your age range (18+) on your blog somewhere in order to be tagged, thanks!!

Feel free to send an ask addressed to one of the Hooked! characters if you'd like to talk to them ^^

Hooked Moodboard by the lovely @jimilter ♡

✿ Hooked (8K)

✿ Classroom Etiquette (5.5K)

-> drabble

✿ Mixed Signals (5.9K)

-> drabble

✿ Thinking About You (9.3K)

✿ Rumor Has It (8.8K)

✿ Unexpected Calls (8.3K)

-> drabble

✿ Eyes on You (10.1K)

✿ Christmas Special 🌲

[qualityjoonie]

Mile High Club Masterlist

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Welcome to the Mile High Club, where our flight attendants are happy to provide the best service for our customers. Sit back and enjoy our exclusive club’s service and goods. Who is your pick for this flight?

➥ keep your seatbelts fastened | jjk (m)

Time spent in the toilet of a plane is far from a fun experience, but the service provided by one of the flight attendants was worth every minute.

➥ landing | knj (m)

Losing your passport on a plane is not how you'd planned your holiday to start, but luckily for you, the captain does leave last and he's more than helpful with your search

➥ ready for takeoff | ksj (m)

A holiday, a private jet, a handsome pilot and some well placed puns - what could go wrong?

➥ emergency exit | myg (m)

➥ turbulence | pjm (m)

Vibrations on the airplane can be mildly disturbing, but when turbulence hits, you seek solace into what you think are the empty kitchens at the back of your level. Turns out you are not alone, and someone is ready to help you forget about your worries.

➥ overnight delay | jhs (m) [out now]

A storm ruins your plans to see your friend for her baby shower. The overnight delay seems like dooms day to you, but your kind pilot steps in.

➥ duty free | kth (m)

There is complimentary service with every amount you spend on the plane, yours just happens to be a bit more special

𝑻𝒂𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅! 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒕! 💜

[qualityjoonie]

Little Mouse Ch. 9

pairing: frat boy!jk x f. reader

genre: college au

wc: 713

warnings: none?

a/n: we’re just gonna pretend it didn’t take me almost 2 years to continue this 👀 as always, I’d love to hear from you here ❤️

date: January 8, 2023

Keep reading

[qualityjoonie]

PROVE IT | lemonaches

🍋 Description: No one likes endings. But sometimes, it’s what everyone needs the most in order to begin again.

When everything’s over and done but the circumstances just won’t let you live in peace, how do you breathe in the same air with your ex—or exes—again?

Continuous shit things happen. And all you’re left to do is prove them that you’ve happily moved on.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy!” you chant, taking on the challenge. How hard can that be, right?!

🍋 Genre: definitely angst but the trademark fluff-rom-com would probably still be popping from time to time || ex-lovers!au, medicalshit!au, NSFW, 18+

🍋 Pairing: BTSxYOU (OT7) 

🍋 series playlist

➠ chapters: 

awkward-ex-meetup arc: i.limonene2.0 | ii.vaccine | iii. vaccine 2.0 | iv.tylenol | *v.forget-me-pill | *vi.nicotine | vii.morphine | *viii.morphine 2.0 | *ix.placebo | x.penicillium 

breakup-revelation arc: xi.lidocaine | xii.lidocaine 2.0 

ending arc: xiii.oxytocin 2.0 | *xiv.lemonade | xv.lemonade 2.0

➠ side chapters:

flashback drabble: valentine ice cream cake

surprise bonus: aspirin

(*) indicates smut

✏ Prequel: THESIS IT | lemons

⌦ A/N: This fic is still one heck of a roller coaster ride, but in a different way than the previous one. Also, I dedicate this sequel to those faithful readers who—despite the twists&turns I tossed you with—continuously trusted in me. Sorry for breaking hearts last Christmas, let me patch it tortuously slowly this New Year’s Eve.

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

⇢ Interlogue: “For heaven’s sake, darling!” Bom huffs, “Can you please start dating someone new?”

“And please do start immediately!” Gauel adds bossily.

Nothing much has changed, except for the fact that you’ve all been busier and busier. But once in a while, these two still make sure to check up on you the moment they’re free—even though most times it’s all just video chats they could offer—just like this one you’re currently in.

There it is again, the never-ending topic of finding yourself a man.

“I told you!” a roll of eyes inevitable as you debate, “I don’t need—!”

“Woman, we know you better than anyone else!” they grumble in sync.

Keep reading

[qualityjoonie]

s e x t a l k

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader x taehyung

g e n r e : friends w/benefits au

t a g s : roommates!tae and jk, hook-ups, reader’s hot girl summer is here, sneaky link(s), unprotected sex, creampies, oral sex (m & f receiving), fuckboys!tae and jk, dom/sub undertones, possessive!jk, threesomes, degradation, tiny amount of crack+fluff, simps!jk & th, double penetration (two dicks, one hole)

s u m m a r y : you’re seeing two hotties on the down low, getting your back blown out every other night by either one. that is until you find out they’re roommates..

w o r d c o u n t : 6.1 k

It's officially summertime and you don't plan on doing much unless your friends decide otherwise. You spend your days going out with them to various places such as the beach, clubbing, and house parties of mutual friends alike. It's fun because you meet all sorts of new people and come out with more connections (like a new weed dealer etc).

It's during your nightly escapades that you meet Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. They're friends of your friend Hoseok and some acquaintances you have seen around campus. You already knew of them before because a friend of your friend talked about Jungkook's dick game and some other girl had exposed a sex tape of Taehyung giving her the best head of her damn life. To say you weren't a little curious about them would be a lie.

As much as your interest is piqued by them you don't make a move or show motivation to look for them. If life so happened to put them your way then so be it. You go on with your life like nothing and occasionally run into the two on separate occasions. Though you're only connected through Hoseok who's your bestfriend since eighth grade.

Hoseok takes you to a kickback a classmate of yours is throwing, the party's pretty chill and you wander around talking to everyone because somehow you know them. Hoseok's probably off getting his dick wet or something but you don't bring yourself to care because you're happy for the man. You choose to sit with a group of people well known for being potheads etc.

"y/nnnnnnnn!" Jackson throws his arm around your shoulder, "Been waiting for you to show out all night where the fuck you been?" He laughs, obviously a little cross faded.

You pat him with a grunt and sit back, "Hoseok wanted to eat before so we went for burgers." You mumble and reach for the joint he's holding in his hand. There's a few people you don't recognize and they're all girls sitting around with the likes of Jooheon and Bobby, even Taehyung's here but you brush his presence off.

To these (most likely freshmen) you're a surprise with how casual you are with them. In fact people knew you as a cool, well "chill" person. You had a reputation as a pothead and was well liked by most people you came across, and if you were feeling more scandalous they'd come to know the guys you hooked up with called you a throat goat. Other than that you were well off in school.

"Heard you was back for the summer," Bobby coughs as he hands his joint off to the person next to him, "where'd you go..?"

You take a long drag from the joint, relishing in the good quality as the smoke fills your lungs. "LA," you curtly reply, "shit's crazier over there." You mumble and let out the smoke after a few minutes.

The boys nod collectively, taking hits alongside you as they leave it at that and turn to give their company attention. You relax into the couch, listening to Jackson's wild rants and ideas about life. Your eyes flicker up occasionally and you see Taehyung staring at you and he pays no mind to the girl kissing up his neck.

You hold the joint in your mouth, sitting up and adjusting your jeans all the while keeping your eyes on him. He's hot and he knows what he's doing. You're unsure whether he's ever heard of you but you know you're a familiar face. Taehyung doesn't move at all and flickers his eyes from your face to your waist, tongue peeking out as he licks his upper lip.

His smug little face and playful smile makes you wanna be the one to sit in his lap, but you aren't no thief. He's a taken man for the night and if he wants you.. well he knows what to do.

You get tired of sitting around and pat Jackson to let him know you're leaving. A chorus of 'byes' echo, and you walk away from the circle with the joint tucked between your lips.

You get a few "hey y/n" as you pass by people dancing and drinking. You wave them off and head to a different area to get yourself a couple shots etc. You join a couple girls who offer some shots to you, and soon enough there's ass being thrown back at you and you're still clinging to the tiny burned out joint between your fingertips.

"Hold on," you mumble and make your way back into the kitchen for some water. A body slides up beside you and you see a familiar fluff of black hair, "Hey.." You mumble to Taehyung.

"Was wondering where you went, Jackson sent me with this for you, said something about it bein' for last week." Taehyung dropped a baggy of pre-rolls next to you on the counter, setting his arm down as he caged you between the fridge and him.

You nod slowly acknowledging the gift and continuing on with your search for some water. It comes as a surprise for you to be interacting with Taehyung. "Thought you were busy, need something?" You mumble out once you feel his chest brush against your back.

His cologne is strong but it suits him and you want to smell some more but in your weed fueled mind you find it weird. "Aren't you friends with Seok? How come he's never introduced us? I'm sure we'd make really good friends.." His voice goes a pitch lower towards the end, raspy from the joint he smoked earlier.

Shivers go down your spine and you lick your dry lips unconsciously. "I am and that makes you only Seok's friend. Not mine." You look up at him feeling nervous cause he's so handsome up close and you wonder how all those girls he fucked could maintain any eye contact at all.

Taehyung chuckles softly at your words, "You're so mean," he hummed, eyes half lidded and smile lazy, "you really don't wanna be my friend? Hm...?" He leaned closer with his face mere inches away from yours.

You stare back, a million of things running through your head all at once. Were his lips as soft as his face looked..? Was he a good kisser? Does he French kiss? You wondered all these things and without hesitating you brought him down for a kiss, smacking your lips against his with your arms around his neck. Damn did it feel good.

Taehyung responded almost immediately, hands going down to grip your waist as his thumbs dug into your hips. You tugged him closer to you with your movements a bit rushed and sloppy from the weed in your system. You're both making out furiously in the kitchen harshly breathing through your noses. He reaches down to cup your ass and give it a squeeze through your jeans, moaning into your mouth because of the fat spilling through his fingers.

He hoists you up onto the counter, pulling back to attack your neck with a flurry of kisses. You pant softly and bury your hands in his soft hair to ground yourself. He pulls you closer, dragging you to the edge of the counter and pressing his crotch against yours. You can feel the thick bulge hidden away in his pants, you whine quietly and reach down to stroke him through his jeans.

"Tae," you breathlessly mutter, "fuck me.."

Taehyung grunts softly and grinds his hips into small circles, "My car's parked out in the front, let's go?" He breathes out against your lips, hands already slipping into your jeans and cupping your soft ass cheeks in his hands, idly squeezing the bubbly flesh.

"No," you pull back and stare into his eyes, "right here. Right now." You purred licking his lip as you watched his face morph into one of surprise and shock. He looked like he didn't believe you, so you showed him exactly what he was asking for when he decided to mess with you.

The whole school that night watched in awe as Taehyung pounded you raw on that very counter in front of everyone. People knew you were bold bold and didn't give a shit about anyone's opinions but not Taehyung. He went home still in shock, refusing to even talk about it with Jungkook (who you learned very much later on was his roommate).

It's all his friends talk about and they even make fun of him for it. They say you slut Taehyung out in front of everyone, out freaking him in what he did best. Fucking. He didn't say anything to argue with them. It was true, and now that he had a taste of you he didn't want to stop.

Shit only gets better from there as you and Taehyung see each other more and more. He's obsessed with you at this rate, you ruined any form of sex he liked and all he could do was hope you were free and down to see each other. He was lucky because you were very much enthusiastic to indulge the man.

Something you loved about Taehyung was the way this man gave head, you could lay there for hours with his head between your thighs. It was an added bonus the things he could do with his tongue that had you creaming and shaking.

It feels like time slows down as the heavy pleasure weighs down on you. Your lips part in a silent 'o' as your shaky hands come down to grip his soft curly locks. He's got one hand gripping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up in the air while the other mindlessly floats in the air to get that angle. Your panties are strewn around your dangling ankle and you're wearing only one of Taehyung's old band t-shirts you found on his bed.

Taehyung makes a loud slurping noises and his saliva coats your plump and swollen clit. You push his side a little to the side and sigh loudly when a new wave of pleasure hits you. "There.." You mumble breathily, holding his head in place as your hips grind in slow small circles against his tongue.

He doubles his efforts and lets out a soft moan as the vibrations make your hips jump. He practically smothers his face in your cunt and moves his head side to side with his lips firmly attached to your clit. You let out a broken cry, back arching forward as you went stiff. You desperately pushed your hips up against his mouth and breathily whined because it felt soo good and he was hitting all the right spots.

Taehyung reached with his free hand to slide at least two fingers into the creamy mess as he pushed them in with a audible squelch. Your eyes flutter shut for a second, chest heaving as you throw your head back and stare up at the ceiling because Taehyung knocks the air out of you. He doesn't start the pace slow, no, he immediately plunges both fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. He's got them curled so he hits that special place inside of you.

You melt against the sheets and moan louder because he's sucking on your clit and pairing it with his perfectly timed strokes. You let go of his hair and grab on to the pillows with breathless moans and whines, "God Tae, fuck keep going," you moan and let your head roll back on to the pillow, "gonna cum.."

He can feel your pussy tightening around his fingers and he grins softly against your wet folds. He pulls back to watch your blissed out face as you squirm on the sheets below him. He doesn't stop jabbing his fingers upward, pace getting faster and faster until he sees the familiar quiver of your thighs. "Cum," he grins as he places a hand on your pelvis and holds you down, "get 'em nice and wet... Bet you won't even need lube cause you got a sloppy little cunt, 's drooling for me, beggin' for me to put my cock in and fuck you stupid."

You let out a long moan at his words and feel your clit throb as your orgasm slowly hits. You're left utterly breathless, heart beating a little too hard in your chest as you try and get his hand to stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and only slows down when he sees that the overstimulation is hitting. "Gonna take my cock like a good little slut?" He asks as he taps the tip against your drenched folds.

"Mmhm." You nod and open your shaky legs even further, "I don't want it slow Tae," you mumble softly though the way your eyes droop tell another story.

Taehyung laughs under his breath and hooks your legs around his hips, he leans over your body and pumps his cock through the mess you made. "Want it hard?" He croons softly, "And how's that? You can barely even stay awake."

You hummed, "Fuck me slow then, gonna relax." You softly say and bring your hand down and join his as you stroke his hard throbbing cock. You take his cock and position it at your messy pussy, biting back a moan as he slowly rolls his hips forward. "Fuck.." You sigh.

Taehyung's in bliss his lips fall open as he moans quietly, the sound that comes from your pussy has his mind reeling. He takes ahold of your hips and holds you nice and steady as he begins to roll his hips forward. You lick your dry lips and set your hands next to your head as you grip the pillow. Your pussy's a little sore from the rough fingering but this slow pace makes up for it.

He pants quietly as he quickens his pace but never fully presses into you. He doesn't quite pound you but the pace is fast enough that it leaves you out of breath. You reach down to gentle rub at your clit in slow small circles, eyes locked on Taehyung's as he fucks you. He's biting his lip, focusing on the way you rub yourself and the way his cock slides in and out.

There's a ring of white cream that comes when Taehyung pulls out, he slows down to watch the way your pussy creams some more. His breath stutters as he reaches down to smear around his cock before he pushes his hips to the hilt and stays there balls deep within you. You softly moan at the feeling of him being all the way inside of you, "Mmm-right there..." You lift your hips up to lazily rut against him, "Shit-"

Taehyung hisses softly, "Hold on baby," he pulls out swiftly and lays down next to you, patting your thigh as a signal, "get on baby, ride me like you mean it."

Your mouth waters at the sight of his cream coated cock, you want to lick it all up but you suppose maybe afterwards. "Lay all the way back," you mumble and throw your leg over his waist as you straddle him, "like that." You grab his cock once more and hover over it as you push down with a long quiet moan.

Taehyung's eyes fall shut and he rolls his head back as he squeezes your ass in appreciation. You bite your lip and pick yourself up only to drop down in his lap with a wet smack. He groans a little louder, clearly not expecting you to do that.

"Fuck..!" He gasps out.

You grin down at him and brace your hands on his chest as you begin to ride him like no tomorrow. You're bouncing in his lap with audible loud slaps as your ass connects with his pelvis. Your pussy's making a loud wet noise and the bed's creaking just a little from the force of your bounces. Taehyung's moaning louder, hands holding on to dear life as you ride the hell out of him.

Your head is thrown back, moans flowing freely and hips moving quickly. Your thighs ache but it isn't too bad because you like to ride and when you have control it's all over for your partner. You prop yourself up with your hands coming behind you to settle on his thighs as you lift your hips and slam down just as hard. You're building up a sweat and you're getting a little louder with your noises of pleasure.

"Fuck y/n," Taehyung pants, he hates and loves when you do this because the pleasure's so damn good but at the same time it always makes him cum faster. "Shit, shit, slow down," He cries out as he feels his cock throb pathetically and his lower stomach coils.

You moan loudly and swirl your hips in a slow circle, "Fuck no, gonna cum," you moan out.

He helplessly cries out as you resume your punishing pace. He grits his teeth and focuses on the wet slide and clapping noises the come from your filthy fucking. Taehyung lets out a long loud moan when he's hit with his orgasm, he feels boneless afterwards and has to slow you down cause the tug on his cock feels too much. You grind against him and reach down to rub you clit quickly to join him in his afterglow.

Moments later you're collapsing next to him on the bed with a breathless huff, "My fuckin' cunt feels numb and my thighs are shaking.."

Taehyung pants, looking at you like he's either in love or he's "mad". "You're insane, my fuckin' dick almost fell off cause you were going crazy." He said as he rolled back to stare up at the ceiling while he tried to catch his breath.

You smirk to yourself, "There's a lot of cum in me," you softly add. Taehyung's cock gives a weak twitch and it has you laughing because he's shameless.

+

Whenever Taehyung's busy you find yourself meeting with Jungkook instead. You had met the guy when Hoseok brought him along for bbq one night. He tried wooing you like he did to those helpless girls back on campus but you ran the game so shit like that didn't work. You took the chance to speak with him when Hoseok went to the bathroom as you looked at him dead on.

"I'm not looking for a relationship either and if I'm being honest I've been wanting to fuck you for a while now so why don't we just cut to the chase and you can give me your insta or whatever the fuck you feel comfortable with, yeah?" You try to give him a friendly smile but it's kinda dumb so you settle for your resting bitch face.

Jungkook's sitting there looking shocked as hell, "Oh." He didn't realize his intentions towards you were THAT obvious. He shrugs and drops his whole prince charming façade as he smirks playfully, "Well I mean I didn't know you get down like that," he calmly says, "but me and you? We're gonna get along justtttt fine." He grins.

And so you do...

Whenever you so happen to not be busy with Taehyung, Jungkook hits you up and you both meet at your place because he works nearby and usually he tends to ask you whenever he's getting off work. You think you're getting a reasonable and healthy amount of dick, probably why you're so stress free at school and seem in better moods. Hoseok makes fun of you for it too.

Jungkook excelled in all aspects of sex, you thought Taehyung was the only one? Boy were you proved wrong. Somehow, someway Jungkook pushed you to your limits and did things that brought out a whole new side of you. Taehyung made you wet, had you fucking creaming from a fingering session but Jungkook? Jungkook could do the same shit but had you squirting.

Now you aren't much of a squirter, you only come across that whenever you push yourself and keep going after your orgasms. Jungkook didn't even have to try, he'd have you squirting on the first try whether he was using his fingers, tongue, or cock. You almost said "I love you" from a particular fucking that had left you crying softly and shaking.

You compare the both of them. Taehyung's more of a "let me drag this out" type of pleasure as he teases and builds you up. Jungkook gets to it because "there's more where that came from" as he gives you orgasms back to back. Not to mention their heavenly cocks. Taehyung's a little above average, he's got a thick girth and veiny shaft. Jungkook's a little more longer than Taehyung, equally thick yet curved so he's hitting all those right spots.

You wonder which world did you save in your past life to get this lucky with the both of them?

Jungkook likes lingerie, not those over the top sets but maybe a matching set or a pair of raunchy lace panties or one pieces. You indulge him cause you're hot and you think you look fucking delicious in lingerie. What you buy certainly blows his mind.

You end up getting a black lace one piece, it hugs your curves in all the right places and the chest part is lace see-through. You adjust the straps on your shoulders and do a double take on your ass cause you can't stop staring at it. "Fuck it." You mumble and get your phone as you snap a series of pictures. You send them to Taehyung, Jungkook, your friend, and then your other friend cause you want the hype.

Jungkook had sent you a 'i'm here' text right when your picture sent. You grin because shit's about to hit the fan.

Jungkook ended up liking the lingerie too much cause he was overzealous to get his hands on you.

You end up getting fucked on your bed with your legs thrown over his shoulders. You got your tit hanging out of the lingerie as it jiggles in tandem with his thrusts. He had only yanked the piece to the side and stuck his cock in that way. You weren't complaining cause it had cost you a bit too much for you not to end up getting fucked in it.

"Jungkook...!" You huff out, somehow Jungkook always manages to get you to moan louder and step out of your little quiet zone. 

The rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Jungkook slams his pelvis into yours and watches the way your ass jiggles back at him. He's got his dark eyes set on your bouncing jiggling tits, occasionally reaching up to flick his thumb over your pebbled nipple. You get goosebumps all over and release a soft moan at the tingling sensation that comes from your chest. 

"Gonna let me be the only one to have this pussy doll?" He groans and emphasizes his words with a harsh slap of his hips that jostles you, "Hm? Gonna stop being a slut and letting anyone have it? All they gotta do is mention their dicks and you'll be right there with your legs wide open isn't that right?" He coos and grabs on to your tit hard. 

You garble out a moan and arch your back, he's got your knees shaking weakly as you struggle to keep them from sliding off his shoulders. "Y..es.." You whimper, pussy fluttering like crazy from his little dirty talk. 

Jungkook grins, "Right," he mocks as his hips grind deep into yours, "Bet you don't even know what the hell I just told you. Too cock stupid to even understand huh baby?" He muses out as he lets your tit go in favor of slithering his hand up your throat and holding you in place. "Answer me doll." 

Your tongue peeks out and you slowly lick your lips watching as he goes feral from it, "Only yours," and right when you see his familiar cocky grin overcome his features you add a, "for today." He loses all cool and plows you. 

"Oh yeah baby?" Jungkook growls as he squeezes your throat tight and hammers into your soppy pussy. He's relentless and his stamina comes out into play as he takes you by surprise and slams into you harder and harder. To the point you're squirting bits of slick every few seconds and making a mess on your sheets below. 

Your body moves upwards with each thrust as he sends you to cloud nine. You're crying softly because it's overwhelming you, the pleasure comes in hot punishing spurts as it makes you squirm like crazy. "Shit...! Jungkook..!" You whisper out as your eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as moans flow freely. 

"Fucking slut." He growls as he keeps his eyes set on you, "Opening your legs and giving out what's mine. You may be letting others fuck ya baby but just remember," his voice drops an octave as he whispers in your ear, "who makes you squirt? Who makes you cry.." He whispers and lets his tongue run over your ear lobe. 

You come undone from just that, crying out loudly and going stiff when you squirt around the man and get the sheets below drenched. "Fuck! Fuck!" You cry out, head thrown back and body shuddering from his thrusts. 

Jungkook pants into your ear, shuddering from the way you clench tightly around his cock. He rolls his hips forward a few more times until he's coming inside and filling you with his thick gooey cum. It makes you quiver, hands weakly pushing at his hips as you're left unable to speak or do much. 

"Fuck baby," He sighs, content from the rough session of sex, "see you next week." He mumbles out giving your thigh a pat of appreciation. 

You hum, definitely looking forward to next time..

+

Now, how long did you really think you were going to keep fucking both of the homies without anyone of them finding out? You figured not long because Jungkook was slowly starting to hit you up whenever Taehyung did or whenever you were with one of them vice versa. Up until now they didn't know cause you always fucked Taehyung while Jungkook was out at work, and Jungkook always went over to your place. 

Things were working in harmony until one day when they weren't. 

You're getting your back blown out by Taehyung in his goddamn living room for fucks sake. Broad daylight and you're bent over the arm of the couch whining and panting as he sends you to another dimension. "Fuckkk." You drag out as he sets his hands on your lower back to make you arch even further. 

"Lift your leg a little," Taehyung grunts out as he slows down to a slow grind so that you had time to change your position without him jostling you.

You go to do as he says when you hear the front door opening, you look up lazily with your tongue poking out when suddenly a familiar black bucket hat walks into the room. Taehyung mumbles something about his roommate being early. Holy shit. You're frozen and in shock, how could you not have noticed? 

Taehyung always did describe his roommate to be like Jungkook at times and he even let a few details slip like "oh Kook's probably dropping by for something later" or "Kook's bringing pizza in case you wanna stay". Stupid, stupid. You mentally berate yourself for not piecing the evidence together. You have seen Jungkook's shoes in the front for fucks sake! 

Jungkook tosses his bucket hat to the side and sighs, tossing his keys into a bowl and running a hand through his hair. "Hey Tae." He goes to greet the other when his eyes suddenly land on your bent form, butt naked as the day you were born and hickeys covering your throat (proud work from Taehyung). 

Taehyung hums, "Hey Kook." He greets as if he isn't balls deep in you. 

Jungkook is quiet for a few more seconds before he puts two and two together and he lets out a breath of disbelief, "Hm.. I see what's going on here." He pushes his tongue against his cheek looking pissed off, "You know when I said you let just about anyone have it you sure know how to pick 'em don't you y/n?" He mocks as he steps forward. 

"What?" Taehyung mumbles as he pulls back just a little before it clicks in his head too, "She's fuckin' you too Kook?" He chuckles lazily, "Finally the girl who's got you by your balls has been revealed, Kook over here was going crazy over this little pussy of yours." He croons in your ear and gives your pussy a pat. 

"Oh yeah asshole? Well now I know the girl you fucking simp over and take photos of so you can hang them in your room." Jungkook sneers back as he folds his arms over his chest.

 You're mildly alarmed by Jungkook's words and look back at Taehyung with a unimpressed look, "Really dude? Couldn't have just asked? Just sayin'." You softly say, "Whatever grinds your gears." 

"I'm not a fucking pervert!" Taehyung groans, "Listen you just gonna stand there or you gonna let me go back to what I was doing?" He says to Jungkook in annoyance, "My dick's about to go soft with just the sight of you." 

"Fine, but I want in too." Jungkook grins as he takes his jacket off. 

He what now? 

Surely he isn't serious, at least you think he isn't..

 Then you find yourself in a predicament. You're in Taehyung's lap facing Jungkook as he's sliding his cock through the slippery mess of lube and slick. You're terrified out of your mind to even think of having them both in you at the same time. Taehyung's more relaxed, cock throbbing from inside you as he watches with hazy eyes as Jungkook works his own cock inside alongside his. 

"Holy shit," Jungkook grits his teeth as he digs his nails into your thighs, "still so fucking tight." He mutters and inches in to you slowly. 

You let out a low whine of fear but that's not the point, your cunt's tense and so are you. It feels like pressure and a small twinge of pain from your perineum stretching, like a small stinging/burning sensation. It's not uncomfortable and you can bear with it. It just feels like time is ticking by really slow for you. 

"Almost there," Jungkook says as he eases another inch or two into you. 

Taehyung kisses on your shoulder and neck to distract you from the pain as he reaches down between Jungkook and you to fondle your swollen clit. You softly moan, feeling more wetness get coaxed out of you, "Just move, can't bottom out with Tae inside." You murmur softly, "I'm good, promise." 

Jungkook shares a look with Taehyung and the two give in, "Tap my thigh if it's too much." Taehyung relents as he adjusts his grip on you, "Okay?" 

You nod in affirmation and a tiny gasp leaves you when Jungkook begins to thrust in to the best  of his abilities. Taehyung waits a little and then rolls his hips forwards to join Jungkook's. They create this rhythm, one goes in and the other is barely sliding back out though both cocks stretch you to your limits and your g-spot is being hit dead on by you don't know. 

"Oh god," you whimper and throw your head back on Taehyung's shoulder, "fuck meeee..!" You whined out as your thighs shook a little more than usual, "So fucking deep." You gasped. 

Jungkook grunted quietly as he focused on the tempo he and his friend had set. It felt heavenly, the tight fit around his cock sent tremors down his spine. He could feel the disgusting wet slide of his cock rubbing against Taehyung's shaft whenever he was pushing in and the latter was pulling back out. Taehyung was quietly panting against your shoulder as he holds you tight in his arms. 

You rock between the two of them, low whimpers and cries leaving your lips due to the burning pleasure you feel. Your toes curl and you lift your hips a little seeing stars bursting behind your eyelids, "Oh shit!" You cry, it had made both cocks stroke your sensitive walls and cause more pleasure for you. 

You can't escape them, if you move up you're basically pushing up into Jungkook and feeling Taehyung slide back out. It's equally mind blowing and you just don't want this to stop ever despite feeling full and stretched out. 

"Greedy little slut," Jungkook grunts out of nowhere, "couldn't just have one cock now could you? Had to go and find a way to satisfy this slutty pussy didn't you?" He pants softly as he leans down to suck hickeys on to your skin, "Maybe we shouldn't even let you cum, do you even deserve it after being a bad girl and fucking Taehyung behind my back?" 

Taehyung lets out a little grunt, "Pump and dump," He replies, "I mean how many times we make this greedy little slut cum Jungkook? I think it's only fair we get to cum this time don't you think baby?" He asks you with a soft moan in your ear. 

You tremble a little, panting as your pussy flutters around their cocks and tightens just a tiny bit because the telltale signs of your orgasm is building up. Jungkook slaps your cheek lightly, "Pay attention now baby, we asked you something." 

"Mmmmm.... told you, you weren't the only ones." You softly reply because you're out of it, close to coming and feeling like you'll pass out. 

They smirk at your little snarky reply, deciding to set a unforgiving pace as they rock into you harshly now. It jostles you and weak cries are leaving your mouth, you're so so close and you reach down to rub your clit in slow circles. Taehyung sees this and replaces your hand with his own, playing and slapping your swollen bud. 

"Tae..! Jungkook...!" You call out and without any warning you cum hard, shaking and gasping. 

Jungkook bites his lips and yanks his cock out, "Fuck get her over here, gonna put that mouth to good use." He pants as he holds his lubed up cock. 

Taehyung struggles to get you to bend over just a little in his lap as he pushes you towards Jungkook, "Open wide baby," he purrs softly, "give Kook a treat for treating you so nicely." 

Your lips part and you open your mouth to take in Jungkook's wet cock. It's drenched in the flavored lube and some tangy saltiness from his pre-cum and your slick. He tangles his hand in your hair and bobs your head at the pace he wants to go, sighing and moaning. "Fuckkkk, like that baby you're doing so fucking good for me." He smirks. 

Taehyung grips your hips, rocking you back and forth on his lap as he focuses on his own release. He pants and moans lowly, lips forming a small 'o' as he throws his head back with his eyes closed, "Shit she's so fucking wet Kook can barely fuckin' feel her." 

"Slut's all fucked out, prolly even gaping from two cocks being stuffed into her slutty pussy." Jungkook groans in return as his hips stutter, "Shit, shit, shit," He moans long and loud as he cums down your throat, making you gag and sputter around his cock. 

Taehyung's orgasm hits him cause the sounds of you slobbering all over Jungkook comes straight from a wet dream or something. He slumps into the couch with a low whine because his cock is twitching and spurt after spurt of cum fills you. "Shit that's so fucking sexy." 

"Did so good," Jungkook smirks as he pulls out of your mouth and watches you cough up a little cum and saliva, "so, so good.." He pats you. 

You're fucked out, everything in your body is screaming at you to go and lie down cause you were tired. You fought off a wave of sleepiness as your body slowly cooled down and your body just relaxed after the orgasm they both gave you. "Want a bath... and a nap." You softly say. 

Both men stare down at you with fondness in their eyes, "Yeah? You want some wings too?" Jungkook teases cause he knows you're very tired and probably talking out your ass. 

"Boneless please, ooh and some garlic bread and pizza please." You say looking up at him with a serious gaze, "Better be here when I get out of the shower... Tae give me your shirt-"

There was no way they could ever deny you, their favorite little cumdump <3.

[qualityjoonie]

s u g a r

p a i r i n g : namjoon x reader

g e n r e : boyfriend au.

t a g s : cunnilingus, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, morning sex, creampies, breeding kink, pregnancy, possessive namjoon, sweet!reader, reader’s cute, daddy kink, fooling around in a car, LOTS of domesticity, fluffy, dirty talk, sex tapes were made

s u m m a r y : you have a long history with your gentle giant, there’s a lot more to come in the future. alternatively you’re the light of namjoon’s life.

w o r d c o u n t : 10.8 k

It all began the moment he laid eyes on you sitting so pretty with nowhere to go. You were in a pretty flower dress with your cardigan discarded next to you on the bench. On your lap you had a sketch book, pencil, and your phone. He’d never seen someone so beautiful like you..

Namjoon liked to tell everyone he fell for your pretty charm and calm nature. Truth was it was fate that brought him to you. Like gravity pulled him to you, he slowly approached and stood in front of you with his bike by his side. You at first mistook him for wanting to sit so you hurried to move your book.

Keep reading