#AngstWithHappyEnding

[marsi-is-depressed]

Look at the bruise, it’s bad

eleventh doctor x fem reader

No warning, just a minor head injury

The doctor genuinely confused you, more than math itself.  He would congratulate you and be pleasant to you one minute, then rage and vent his displeasure on you the next.

But, of course, you did not keep silent. You shouted back and snapped at him, exactly as he did to you. It was difficult enough trying to defend the Earth from aliens; you didn't need his negative attitude adding to the tension.

There was no reason for him to act like an arsehole when you were assisting him.

A storm was brewing in Doctor's head, unfortunately. He liked you. No, he loved you more than he believed he could love anyone. But he always pushed his feelings away.

He couldn't be sidetracked while attempting to avert an extraterrestrial invasion. He would not allow himself to acknowledge his sentiments to himself; it was not the appropriate moment. Doctor resolved not to inform you until everything was in order, no matter how much he loved you.

Until something happened......

You assisted the Doctor battle one of the cyber-men. When the doctor was struck down, he fell to the floor with a tremendous smack. Before the cyber-man could annihilate him, Doctor leapt up and appeared behind him.

The cyber-man turned around, but the doctor felt worn out and out of energy. You took advantage of the chance to combat the cyber-man, despite the doctor's loud protests, and attacked just before it was ready to blast Doctor.

You sprinted along the hall, gaining speed as you ran up the wall, knocking the cyber down and descending on top of it. Wrapping your arms around its neck, you raise your gold accessories to its neck.

You flipped it over with all of your remaining power. However, before it landed on the floor, you attempted a cartwheel to avoid being dragged down with it.

The single gold ring made little difference as it rose slowly. As you rotated your torso, the cyberman used the chance to sweep his feet under your  legs, sending you falling onto your back, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could sit up, the cyber-man seized your head and forcibly smashed you to the ground.

"No! Y/N!" You heard the doctor exclaim before everything went black.

——————

"Is she going to be okay?" Amy enquired, her gaze still fixed on you.

Everyone was back in the TARDIS, and your unconscious self lay on a bed.

"Yes, but she's most likely going to have a mild concussion. "Look at the bruise; it's serious." The doctor grimaced slightly.

The bruise on your right temple was becoming dark purple and blue. There was also a wound on it, which was now bandaged.

How could he have allowed this to happen? She may have passed away because of him.

Amy spoke out after noticing the Doctor's silence and the worried expression on his face as he gazed at you.

"Hey, she's strong as hell and will be fine." Amy touched the doctor's shoulder.

Before Amy left, he nodded and gave a small smile.

Even though you appeared serene and lovely while you slept, the doctor couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed to keep you safe. He just had one job, and he was incapable of doing it well.

You woke up in your sleep, interrupting his thoughts. Eventually, after a few seconds, you began to open your eyes.

Waves of pain shot through your skull instantly.

In an attempt to relieve the uncomfortable feeling, you clutched the right side of your head and stroked it.

"Doctor." You called out to him in a low voice.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said, grabbing your hand and pushing some hair out of your face.

"I have terrible headache pain." You let out a whine.

When the doctor heard the anguish in your voice, his heart shattered. If he were in your shoes, he would stop at nothing.

"You took a pretty nasty hit, and you have a minor concussion."

He gently raised the glass of water to your lips and assisted you in sitting up.

"I'm grateful." You grinned.

"I apologise."

You had a perplexed look on your face. "For what?"

"You could have died, you nearly died! I was to blame. Rather than merely lying there like a fool, I ought to have assisted you in battling that creature. Frustrated, the doctor ran his hand through his hair.

But, Doctor, I survived. It wasn't your fault, so I'm fine. I was aware of what I was going into. I couldn't leave you to battle him alone. Even if you despise me, I wanted to assist you. Your gaze shifted to your hands.

"I don't hate you," said the doctor, shaking his head. Why would you say that? You look up because of what he said.

"Because you can be so sweet and kind one minute, and then so cold the next."

Finally, the doctor had given up arguing with himself. The mental struggle was finished. He was fully aware of his next course of action.

"Y/N, I can't put into words how I feel. My actions were solely motivated by my love for you. I realise it's a terrible excuse. However, I've liked you for a while, but I wasn't sure how to express it or what to do.

You interrupted him by pressing your lips against his before he could finish his digression. The doctor kissed back after initially being shocked. Both of you had been anticipating this moment since you could remember.

After some while, you withdrew, saying, "I also love you." However, if this is going to work, you will need to improve your ability to communicate your sentiments and emotions.

"I can work with that, coolio." As he put an arm around you, he spoke with an optimistic expression.

You put your head on his chest and sank into the bed. In order to prevent aggravating your injuries, the doctor's chin was gently placed on top of your head.

"So I'll be joining you guys on the next mission, right?" Even though you already knew the answer, you still asked.

"No, sweetheart, you will remain here and take it easy." This time, the doctor encircled you with both arms.

"All right. But only if we consistently act in this manner. He laughed when he saw your sly smile.

"All right, my command is your wish, darling."

[missmarveledsblog]

CALL ME CUPID (JOEL MILLER X READER)

Summary: when Ellie notices  the longing looks joel  gives  the woman in the canteen who does the same when joel isn't looking  she take it as her sole mission to set them up and even has a helper in her endeavours 

It's a fluff age gap sort of thing. slight angst 

when ellie first caught him staring , she thought it was just a fluke  like he was lost in thought while his eyes stared off into the distance . that was til the woman in his view was getting up to return her dishes, finishing her food his eyes followed her frame  . it happened every time they went to the canteen more and then when tommy held joel's attention this time  , ellie saw the woman in question looking over directly at the older miller before turning away small smile on her face. as the woman finished her meal she and walked out.

" hey tommy who is she " ellie pointed  out the door.

" oh that's y/n, she's works in the community garden , bit old for you ellie " he teased.

" funny asshole , she's  not old like you fucks either right ? " she shot back earning a curious yet confused look back .

"  she's 24 been alone for a while , maria found her on patrol she was cornered by couple of raiders, before maria went to help her out she had them on there asses  ,  i didn't believe her til i went on patrol one day and sure enough girl held her own " he shook his head still  in disbelief even though he'd seen it himself.

"  shit that is so cool " she smiled brightly.

" give me your plate and less of the cussing " joel grumbled before heading off .

  " she seeing anybody " she asked .

" why the sudden interest in Y/N , ain't you seeing Cat " tommy asked.

" not for me idiot her and joel, watch them when they're near each other its gross but in a cute way" she said before leaving the table .  running out the door before joel could call her back . " Hey Y/N , wait up shit" she panted as the woman turned . " hello i'm ellie , we've never talked before but i wanted to introduce myself " she held her hand out.

" nice to meet you ellie " she smiled softly shaking her hand .

" can you tell me about that gardening shit... sorry stuff" ellie excitedly  asked looking  for a way to get to know the woman .

"  i'm actually going to do the gardening shit if you wanna join " .

" fuck yeah let's go" . 

the whole morning was more interrogation instead as the inquisitive  front  that faded quick . " so how come your on your own" ellie asked .

" my family died , boyfriend left me usual shit " she shrugged hiding the hurt from the teenager.

"  that is shit , how long have you been travelling alone " . 

" 5 years  ,  why all the question on me " she turned to the girl.

" i like knowing about new friend and joel says i'm too nosey for my own good " .

" is that your dad, you sit with?" .

" I mean , he like my dad kinda " ellie explained the situation and everything before they got to jackson .

"  sounds like a dad to me" Y/N smiled. " sunshine , that's that i'ma call you " ellie said offhandedly .  the woman said nothing but continue her work and answering all  of ellie's questions , shooting some back before the two walked to the canteen . 

" come on join us" ellie  pulled the woman to the table she and joel sat at .

sure enough tommy could see what his what he classed her as niece was on about .  the two looking at each other  everytime the other wasn't looking ,like they took turns in stealing glances .  " son of a bitch " he chuckled . 

it didn't take long for her to worm her way into the man affections , she instantly got the usually cold man  to talk to her instead of the usual grunts  that the other resident would get anytime they tried to communicate with joel miller  .

sunshine as she now was called thanks to ellie the nickname caught on and stuck not that she minded.  she  found she hit the jackpot the day she met maria finally being apart of something after being alone for so long.   Now she was part of community and got to have meal time with her new friends  everyday  something she only ever dreamed of in the shit show of the world they lived in .  only complication was the feeling she harboured for the new man she had the pleasure of calling a friend . how could she not though  ,  you'd have to be blind to not find joel miller  attractive , those dark brown eyes alone could have a woman weak in the knee's . she couldn't help getting lost studying the details of his face when he was talking away be it to her, ellie or his brother tommy . she would get lost in his eyes or studying the curve of his nose , from the beard to even his dark curls that had grey's sprinkled throughout .

  " so it that ok with you " tommy asked making her snap out of her ogling.

" huh sorry spaced out there for a second " she shook her head .

" of course you did  , i was saying since maria is close to giving birth i need to be home more  would it be ok with you to go with joel for the next patrol " he chuckled .

" oh yeah of course when is it ? " .

" well my dear sunshine ya'll leave in the morning " tommy got up patting her on the back . 

" that ok with you ?" she turned to joel .

" of course it is darling prefer you to tommy either way better company" he winked before heading off maybe to get ready she thought . 

" you got a bit of drool right here" ellie teased . " oh shut it " she snorted before checking to see if she was actually drooling sending the teenager into a fit of laughter .  

she spent most of the night packing the essentials not that she had much but she did have a few nice clothes she was able to find on her time alone  from a few summer dresses to a bundle of nice jeans and tops  , she had a eye for finding such finds which made her popular for patrols especially with the women of the community  that and her dab hand at fixing clothes something she would do with her mother when she was younger . a past time she missed dearly sitting with the woman while she would talk of the world before the infected all the things like her parent would do  date nights and social event with friends something that seemed like a dreamland.   the love they had for each other was something she wanted for herself  but never thought could happen it was like she was never good enough for anyone in that way . 

 Her ex,she met on her travels , he would let her know constantly she was lucky he wanted to be with her and that he would of picked someone else . everytime  he would let her know he didn't think she was anything special . one day the two bumped into a group and noticing her ex was cosying up with one of the women not caring she was right in front of them that night or that she cried herself to sleep. only  to wake up alone and her things all gone all she had was her back pack because it was her pillow , she carried it all time because it contained her parents rings and little things that meant alot for her as well as the hunting knife. leading to her rebuilding herself from the ground up .

that night she woke up in sweats a nightmare of her ex throwing her into a pit of infected calling her awful thing as they attacked her. she didn't realise she was screaming til the sound of her door breaking and  her eyes seeing joel miller standing at her door gun drawn looking for the danger .  instantly his gaze soften when took in her red puffy eyes and completely terrified expression . " ellie was sneaking out heard you screaming "he said coming closer.

"  she got herself in trouble for me " her voice still trembling .

" course she did she loves you alot if you didn't notice " he smiled sitting on side of the bed leaning back as not to be so close. 

" i had a nightmare i'll be fine seriously"  went to push him out .

" well i kinda broke your door so either i'm staying here or your coming to ours , i can leave you in open like that " he winced.

" how broken is my door " she arched her brow .

" in half but in my defence you were screaming and i was scared you were in danger " he admitted .

" you were scared for little old me " she teases yet shocked.

" course i was darling , ellie ain't the only one who cares for you now mine or yours" he asked .

" i'll get my shoes , you can grab my pillow and blanket " she got out of the bed grabbing her boots and her coat and back pack before following out . reeling in the revelation that joel miller cared for her.  

Part two

[kikiswriting7]

Seoul Connection ✈︎ JJK ✈︎ PJM

CHAPTER 6

You arrive at work exactly on time. Not early, not late. Neutral.

You clock in, settle at your desk in the rehearsal room, and begin reviewing your checklists for the day—camera angles for the afternoon shoot, backline confirmations, sound setup revisions. It’s the usual rhythm that you have fallen into in the past month. Familiar. Safe.

Except it’s not.

Your skin still prickles from last night. The noise, the light, that moment in the club you’re trying hard to delete—his hand, the pressure of it, the way your body stiffened before you even had time to really register what was happening.

You haven’t told the girls. You didn’t text Seo-Jun back. Even though he texted maybe one too many times for your liking. You haven’t really looked at your phone at all, actually. It’s easier not to think.

So you sit. And you focus.

You keep your face calm, your spine straight, your tasks in check.

But when one of the sound guys brushes your shoulder while passing a cable behind you, your body reacts.

A quick, automatic flinch.

Just a twitch—so small no one should notice.

Except someone does.

You feel the heat of his gaze before you even look up.

Jungkook stands on the far side of the studio, half-bent over a monitor setup, a cord in one hand. His head is tilted slightly, one brow faintly raised. His expression unreadable.

Your stomach drops.

You immediately look away, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like nothing happened.

It happens again an hour later.

You’re crouched by one of the cases, sorting the smaller equipment pieces when Jimin approaches with a light laugh and a clipboard in hand.

“Hey,” he says casually, crouching beside you, “you good with this checklist, or should I double-check it before you send it over to the floor team?”

You nod, smiling faintly. “It’s good. Already cross-checked the light positions.”

“Wow. Gold star for you.”

He nudges your shoulder gently with his own. It’s friendly. Normal. The same was he has done a couple of times before.

And still—your body freezes for a second.

You catch it too late, feel your own chest tighten. You hope he doesn’t notice.

But he does. Of course he does.

Jimin tilts his head slightly, his playful grin dimming. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You force another smile. “Just didn’t expect that.”

He doesn’t press. But he doesn’t look convinced either.

You pull away politely, standing. “I’ll go prep the next set.”

You don’t look back.

By lunch, you’re wound so tightly you barely hear your name being called.

“Y/N”

You blink, glance up. Jungkook stands in front of you, a protein bar in one hand, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms. The studio lights cast a soft sheen across his cheekbones, but his expression is strangely neutral.

“You forgot to eat again,” he says, holding the bar out to you.

You hesitate. Looking between the treat in his hands and back to his face.

He waits, not smiling like he usually does. Just watching.

“It’s fine,” you say softly. “I’m not hungry.”

“Eat anyway.”

You finally take it, your fingers brushing his for half a second. You pull your hand back quickly, clutching the wrapper.

Jungkook leans against the edge of the table, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

“You always flinch like that?”

Your heart skips. “What?”

His eyes stay on yours. He doesn’t say it with judgment, or even concern—it’s something a bit more than that. Measured.

But not cold.

“I’ve been around you for weeks,” he says. “I’ve never seen you act like people touching you was a problem.”

Your lips part—but nothing comes out. Then shut again.

He shrugs slowly, his tone softening just slightly. “Just wondering if someone did something.”

You look down. “Nothing happened.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You glance around the room, but no one is paying attention.

You force a breath through your nose. “It’s fine. I don’t… I just didn’t sleep well.”

Jungkook leans in a little closer—not physically, but emotionally. His presence narrows in on you, quiet and grounded.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says. “But if something’s wrong… I don’t think you should pretend it’s nothing.”

You finally meet his eyes again.

And you say it gently, without a hint of emotion

“Jungkook its really ok. I just didn’t sleep very well”

Something flickers behind his expression—regret? frustration?

He doesn't push.

Just takes a breath, straightens up, and gives a tiny nod.

“Okay,” he says getting back up. “But maybe try eating that before it melts in your hand.”

He turns and walks away.

When he finally leaves the room, you look down and realize your fingers have crushed the corner of the bar from how tightly you were holding it.

You’re outside, behind the building, leaning against the railing near the loading dock—your unofficial break spot. Your coffee’s cold, but you’re still holding it, sipping like it might ground you. Gently nibling on the protein bar jungkook gave to you.

It’s a quiet moment. Almost peaceful.

Until you hear the door creak open behind you.

“Hey.”

You turn slightly and find Seo-Jun there, hands in his pockets, a hesitant look on his face.

“Hey,” you echo, soft and tired. You haven’t been clearly avoiding him today but you also were not looking for his company either.

He walks over and stands beside you, not too close—but not far enough to ignore. There’s a silence between you that isn’t awkward, but it’s weighty. Like he came here with something to say and is still working up to it.

“You’ve been off today,” he says eventually, glancing sideways at you. “Something happen?”

You keep your eyes on the concrete taking another small bite before answering. “No, not really.”

“You sure?” You can feel his gaze on you.

You nod. “Just tired.”

He studies you for a second. “Was it the club?”

You blink. Slowly. Your heart kicks a little. You don’t want to think about the club again. You are honestly getting tired at this point from people asking if you are ok and if something happened.

You don’t answer right away. Seo-Jun watches your silence and softens his tone. He reaches for your arm and you stare for a second at his hand on you.

“Y/N… if someone did anything to you, even if it felt small, I—”

“Nothing happened,” you interrupt, a little too sharp. Finally looking up at him with a blank expression on your face. “Really. I’m fine”

He backs off slightly, hands raising in surrender. “Okay. I believe you.”

The silence that follows is tenser now. He breaks it gently.

“I’m only asking because I care, you know. Not just as a co-worker. You know that, right?”

You look at him—his expression is honest, warm, maybe too open. It makes your chest hurt.

“I know,” you murmur. “You’re kind.”

He takes a step closer. It’s subtle—but you notice.

And so does someone else.

“Break room’s not good enough anymore?”

The voice comes from behind you.  Low.

Casual but at the same time not casual at all.

You freeze.

You both turn to find Jungkook slightly leaning at the doorway, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His expression is unreadable—but there’s a flicker in his eyes. Darker than usual. Sharper.

Seo-Jun straightens a little. “Just getting some air.”

Jungkook nods slowly and gives a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Right. That’s why you’re trying to corner her outside like it’s a drama scene?”

“Excuse me?” Seo-Jun says, surprised.

You step between them instinctively, voice flat. “We’re just talking.”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you for half a second, then back to Seo-Jun.

“She said she’s fine,” Jungkook mutters, jaw tightening. “Maybe take the hint.”

Seo-Jun’s brows knit. “You’re being weird, man. What’s your deal?”

“My deal,” Jungkook says, stepping forward, “is watching you look real comfortable trying to pull her aside every chance you get. You think she wants that?”

You blink.

Seo-Jun opens his mouth, then closes it.

Your heart is racing, and not in the way it normally is to when you are with Jungkook.

“Stop,” you say, voice sharper now. “Both of you. This is ridiculous.”

Jungkook looks at you, but he doesn’t back down. “Just saying. If someone actually gave a damn, they’d leave you alone when you clearly don’t want to be touched.”

The words hit too directly.

Seo-Jun looks between the two of you, frowning. “Okay. Got it.”

He steps back. “Let me know when I can talk to you without getting pushed around.”

You don’t say anything. God he has some guts to say that to him. Jungkook with a flick of his finger, if he really wanted to, find a way to move Seo-Jun to some other position really fast. Even though you don’t believe he would do so.

He leaves.

The door swings shut behind him.

Jungkook stays where he is, arms crossed now, chest rising and falling with too much tension.

You don’t want to ask. Not really. Your head is still heavy from last nights drinking and, in fact, you dind’t sleep well at all. You just want to go back home call Evi and tell how stupid life feels right now.

But you do ask.

“What was that?”

He shrugs, not looking at you.

“Don’t like the way he talks to you.”

“Why?” you press. “Because he does?”

Jungkook finally looks at you, jaw set.

“He doesn’t know you.”

“And you do?”

That stops him cold.

For a beat, nothing moves between you. No words. No breath.

And then, softer—less angry—he says:

“I’m trying to.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know how to answer. Yeah, if theres something Jungkook has been learning how to do is shut you up alright.

So you turn and go back inside before he can say anything else.

But the weight of it follows you even if he doesn’t.

You are clocked out when you find yourself on the rooftop of the building, the skyline flickering like static. You didn’t mean to come here—your body just moved on its own, like it needed air, distance, a moment.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

[Sana]: Have you left already?

You pause. Then reply: 

[you]: Roof.

Minutes later, the door creaks open and she steps out, two bottled drinks in hand.

She hands you one without a word, plops down beside you on the low ledge, and kicks her feet out like she’s lived on rooftops her whole life.

“You look like you’re ten seconds away from fighting someone,” she says casually, bumping your arm. “Should I be worried?”

You laugh—but it’s dry. “I already did that today. Sort of.”

“Oh?”

You take a breath, then let it out slowly. “Jungkook and Seo-Jun almost got into it.”

Sana’s head turns so fast you hear her earrings jingle. “What?”

“They both said shit. Jungkook got all weirdly defensive and said Seo-Jun needed to back off. I know Seo-Jun was trying to check on me,  but it just… exploded.”

Sana whistles low with a smirk on her lips as she took a sip of her drink. “Damn. Who knew golden boy had claws.”

You shrug, twisting the bottle in your hands. “ I don’t think its that deep.”

She gives you a long, sideways glance. “You sure he doesn’t like you?”

“I don’t know.” You pause. “And even if he did… Honestly, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is temporary. I go back to uni soon. I’m not even from here. I’m not in this world, not really.” You sip from your own drink now. Looking into the city “Also I don’t know if you noticed” you turn to her and whisper “hes like, veryfamous. And Army is scary”

Sana watches you for a second longer before turning her eyes back to the skyline with a ghostly smile playing on her lips.

“You know, sometimes I forget you’re the intern.”

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“No, I mean it. You’re so… calm. Even now, when you’re clearly unraveling.”

You scoff and smile faintly loking back at her. “That’s new. I feel like a mess.”

“I’d trade places with you if I could.”

You glance over. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, brushing off the comment. “Just thinking out loud.”

You don't press it. You’re too tired. Why would any one want to be in the mess you feel like you are in now?

“Can I ask you something?” Sana says, after a pause.

You nod.

“What do you want from all of this? Like… when your internship ends. What’s next?”

You stare at the lights across the river. “I don’t know.  Definetly go back, finish school. Pretend I didn’t just get blown into the most complicated, confusing  part of my life?”

“That’s… kind of poetic.”

You scoff. “It’s kind of tragic.”

Sana chuckles and leans her head on your shoulder. “Well, until you leave, we’ve got you.”

You lean your head against hers.

And in that moment—warm rooftop lights, distant traffic hum, someone breathing next to you—it almost feels like the world isn’t shifting beneath your feet.

The week moves slowly. Not in hours or things to do, but in atmosphere.

You show up early to the company every day. Focused. Steady. Like nothing happened. Not like Seo-Jun stopped texting. Not like Jimin haven’t been facetiming you every so often to talk about nothing and everything. Sometimes hes just bored and keeps quiet as he scrolls on his phone. Not like Jungkook haven’t gone back to being playfull and sweet around you, and hasn’t scared one of your friends.

You nod politely when Jungkook walks in, headphones slung around his neck, offering his usual grin—easy, sweet, playful. Like nothing happened.

You meet Seo-Jun in the hallway once. He gives a small smile, and you smile back. But he doesn’t stop to talk. Doesn’t walk you to the elevator like he used to. Doesn’t ask if you’ve eaten or wait by your desk with a second coffee just because.

You tell yourself it’s the comeback schedule. Everyone’s busy. You’re lucky if you get more than a few minutes with anyone. Right?

Still… your inbox feels quieter than usual.

“Hey.” A voice tugs you out of your thoughts. You turn and Jimin’s leaning against the wall near the studio entrance, watching you.

You blink. “Hi.”

“You’ve got that face again.”

“What face?”

He crosses his arms and nods thoughtfully. “The ‘Shit, did I turn off my iron off this morning’ face.”

You let out a soft laugh, and that’s all it takes. Jimin steps in, sliding easily into your rhythm like he always does—without pushing. “Don’t say stuff like that. I might actually need to go back home and check”

“I was gonna grab coffee. Want to come?”

You glance at your screen. Nothing urgent. No one waiting. No Seo-Jun anywhere in sight.

You stand. “Sure.”

The walk to the café is easy, breezy conversation—half jokes about the staff, half your quiet comments that make Jimin laugh like you’re funnier than you are.

He holds the door open with a little bow. “After you, Miss Important.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “you’re the celebrity.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one we all talk about.”

You snort into your drink. “Right.”

“I’m serious. You keep surprising everyone.”

You glance at him over the lid of your cup. “Why?”

“Because you’re… good. And you stay kind. Even when things are clearly weird.”

You stiffen slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I saw your face last week. After that night.”

Your grip tightens slightly.

“I didn’t say anything because you looked like you didn’t want anyone to,” he adds gently.

You nod, eyes lowering to your cup. “I didn’t.”

“Okay.” He nudges you with his elbow. “I still wanted to check in.”

You look at him. There’s no expectation in his eyes. Just quiet warmth.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

“Of course,” he says, like he knows you’re lying but won’t make you say it.

You sit there for a moment longer, then finally crack a smile. “You’re really good at this, you know?”

“At what?”

You shrug. “Being normal.”

He grins. “Well, someone’s gotta balance out Jeon.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

“What?” he chuckles. “It’s true. You should see him these days. All bark, no clue.”

You let the silence stretch after that, and Jimin doesn’t rush to fill it. He just sits beside you, letting you breathe.

And for the first time in days, you do.

You don’t expect to see Jimin again that evening. Not after the way the week’s been going—everyone scattered, schedules packed, Seo-Jun ghosting in and out of rooms like an afterthought.

But there he is, waiting outside the elevator when you’re finally heading down to grab something from the vending machine before heading home, hoodie half-zipped, hair still damp from practice.

“Are you stalking me?” you ask, amused.

“Obviously,” he says without missing a beat. “I’m incredibly subtle.”

You raise a brow.

“I was just on my way down too,” he admits, nodding to the elevator. “You don’t own the snack machine, Y/N.”

“Yet.” You point out. 

He grins. “Now that’s the ambition I like to see.”

You both walk side by side under the flickering hallway lights, the building quieter than usual at this hour.

“You’re not sleeping enough,” he says casually, grabbing a juice box from the machine.

“You noticed that from a hallway?”

“No, I noticed that from the fact that you look like someone pressed mute on you.”

You stare at him. Raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen you make five sarcastic comments in under a minute. This new quiet version is weird.”

You grab your drink and sigh. “I’m just tired.”

“From?”

You hesitate. Then as if he managed in the past week to take brick by brick off of you, you say “Everything.”

“Fair.”

He doesn’t pry. Just sits on the bench nearby and gestures for you to join him. You do. A quiet hum of silence stretches between you, but it’s not heavy. It’s… spacious.

You sip your drink and glance over. “Do you ever feel like people expect you to be something even when you’re running on empty?”

“All the time.” He replies not skipping a beat.

“Do you ever fake it?”

He gives a soft laugh. “Every single day.”

You exhale through your nose, and for the first time in a while, it’s not out of frustration. It’s something like relief.

“I think I’ve forgotten how to talk to people,” you admit, quieter now.

“No you haven’t,” he says, resting his head against the wall. “You just don’t want to say the wrong thing. That’s not the same.”

You turn your head toward him squinting in his direction. “How do you always know what to say?”

“I don’t,” he replies, smirking. “I just look like I do.”

You laugh again, and this time, it feels real.

He shifts toward you slightly, and something in the air changes—still light, still safe, but there’s a warmth to it now. A slight tilt.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully, “you really don’t have to be so tough all the time.”

You meet his eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on your expression. “If I’m not, I might break.”

He holds your gaze. “Then break. I’m sure someone will be there to help pick up the pieces.”

You blink, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. You want to say something—anything—but your throat tightens.

So instead, you whisper, “Thanks.”

He bumps his shoulder lightly into yours. “That’s what friends are for.”

There’s a pause. Then he adds, with a shit-eating grin and  eyes sparkling, “Though, just for the record… I look great holding broken pieces.”

You burst out laughing again, loud enough to echo down the hallway. Pushing him with your hands.

And for a moment, it’s enough.

Jimin’s is back on the schedule of always being there.

Not in a clingy, all-consuming way. Just… there. When you walk into the practice floor with coffee. When you’re buried in edits in the conference room. When you’re catching your breath after yet another rushed lunch.

It starts to feel like muscle memory—turning your head and finding him there, eyes crinkling, teasing something out of you without even trying.

“You’re starting to show favoritism,” you tease one afternoon as he hands you a drink without asking. The exact one you’ve been craving.

He shrugs, leaning on the counter beside you. “I’m not showing favoritism. You’re just easier to deal with when you’re caffeinated.”

You roll your eyes but sip gratefully anyway.

He watches you for a second. “Better?”

“Not terrible.”

“High praise.” The corner of his lips twitch up.

You two fall into an easy rhythm, the kind that doesn’t demand anything too intense, but still feels sincere. Jimin flirts—because of course he does—but it’s always with a nudge of humor, a twinkle in his eye, and never too close to a line.

You like that. You need that. Someone who sees the weight on your shoulders but doesn’t force you to unpack it. Someone who meets you where you are, without pushing.

And somehow, he gets that. Every time.

One late afternoon, you’re both hiding out in a corner of the building, away from the chaos. You’re lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and he’s sitting beside you, cross-legged, spinning his phone on his palm.

“You know,” he says casually, “I like that you don’t try so hard.”

You glance at him. “Thanks…?”

“No, I mean it.” He lies back too, arms folded behind his head. “People either try to impress us or avoid us. You kind of just exist.”

“I think that’s supposed to be an insult.” You look at him with a look of slight disbelief.

He grins. “It’s not. I like that you’re not fake.”

You stretch your legs out. “Yeah well, faking things takes too much energy.”

He hums in agreement. “You’re funny.”

“You’re soft.”

He gasps. “I am not.”

“You gave me a cookie earlier and said it was because I ‘looked like I needed love.’”

“I was being practical.”

You laugh, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

Safe. That’s what this feels like..

Just… safe.

Later, in the practice room, the rest of the boys filter in slowly. Jungkook’s the last to arrive. Hoodie up, hair slightly damp, headphones hanging from his neck. His usual outfit.

You’re sitting beside Jimin, working on your laptop while he watches something on his phone and casually throws in commentary like you’re both watching it together.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything when he walks in. But you feel it—his eyes on the two of you for a beat too long.

You glance up just in time to see him drop onto the couch across the room, pulling out his phone immediately.

He starts typing. And doesn’t stop.

Hoseok notices first. “What’s up with you, Jungkook? You’ve been texting all day.”

Jungkook glances up, casual. That smug smile on his face “Huh? Just stuff.”

“Stuff?” Taehyung leans over to peek. “Are you in love or something?”

Jungkook laughs but doesn’t deny it. “I’m allowed to text.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon adds, “but you hate texting.”

Jimin looks up at that, interest piqued. His eyes flick from Jungkook to you. You don’t react, just keep working. Jimin leans over and whispers, “Told you he’s sus lately.”

You snort. “He’s probably playing a game.”

Jimin nods dramatically. “A dangerous one.”

Jungkook looks up briefly—only at Jimin—but his gaze shifts just for a second toward you. Then he looks back down and resumes typing.

It’s late.

The lights outside the building cast long golden strips against the windows. Most people have already gone home. Afterall who wants to stay at their workplace on a Friday night? You and Jimin are still in the corner of the break room, the remnants of takeout boxes between you and the hum of the vending machine the only sound for a while.

You didn’t mean to stay this long. But you’re here. And so is he.

Jimin’s leaning on one elbow, swirling the straw of his soda with absent focus. “You’re quiet tonight,” he says without looking at you.

“I’m tired.”

“You say that even when you’re not.”

That makes you glance up. He’s not teasing this time. His voice is soft. Matter-of-fact. Still gentle.

And that’s all it takes.

You lean back in your chair and exhale slowly, as if the breath had been waiting days to be let out.

“It’s weird,” you say after a long pause. “Being here.”

Jimin shifts slightly, listening.

“I like it so much. All of this. The work, the people… even the chaos.” You let out a quiet laugh. “Sometimes I catch myself just… smiling in the elevator. Like an idiot.”

His lips lift, just slightly.

“But I’m not supposed to stay,” you continue, eyes fixed on a smudge on the table. “This was always temporary. My internship ends in a few months, and then I have to go back and finish Uni. Write my thesis. Take the last of my exams. Do all the normal stuff that is paused.”

You finally look at him. “It doesn’t leave room to even think about staying. You know? Even if I wanted to.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just watches you carefully. Then: “You don’t talk about your life before this much.”

“No one here really asks.”

“I’m asking now.”

You hesitate. Then something in his expression—completely open, unhurried—unravels something you’ve kept stitched tight.

So you start to talk.

About how before Korea, you felt stuck. How you were so excited for the internship even though you were taking the place of your friend, so ready to grow and take a risk. But that not everyone saw it that way.

You talk about Evi. “She was supposed to come. She’s my best friend—still is. But something came up last minute, and she asked me to take the opportunity instead.”

“And your friends?” Jimin asks gently.

You hesitate, then laugh without humor. “They kind of... scattered. Some just drifted. But a lot of it was after my breakup.”

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t interrupt. Letting you continue your story on your time. Even if you wanted to stop right there you know he wouldn’t push.

“We were together for years. I thought—” you stop with a scoff, then continue more quietly. “He said he couldn’t do long-distance. That I was choosing this over him.”

Jimin’s voice is low. “That’s not fair.”

“No. But maybe it was just honest.”

You’re surprised you’re even saying any of this. That it’s spilling out like this. You look away, toward the vending machine’s glow. “I just didn’t expect to feel this right here. I thought I’d just... do the job, learn what I could, go home, figure it out with him and have my life back. Maybe get a friend or two back”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak right away. But when you look at him again, there’s something in his expression that feels like comfort without pity.

“You know what I think?” he says after a moment.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I think you deserve to feel like you belong somewhere. Even if it’s not forever. Even if it hurts when it’s over.”

Your chest tightens.

“You’re not weird for liking it here,” he adds, a little softer. “You’re just human.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”

He bumps your knee under the table. “Anytime.”

And for the first time in a long while, the silence that follows isn’t heavy.

It feels like space.

Like safety.

You wake up later than usual. No alarm. No schedule.

Just stillness.

The kind that creeps in when the world isn’t expecting you anywhere, and for once, you don’t feel guilty about it.

Sunlight pours through your curtains, catching the particles in the air like glitter. You blink slowly, turn your head on the pillow, and reach for your phone—not out of urgency, but habit. Not at all expecting a text that you know deep down would never come.

 But there’s a text from Jimin.

[Jimin 10:17 AM]:  You awake, sleeping beauty?

You smile.

[You 10:18 AM]: Barely.

[Jimin 10:19 AM]:  That’s progress. Want to meet later? We could get coffee. Or ramen. Or cake. Or all three.

[You 10:20 AM]: Tempting. Let me see how I feel after I pretend I’m a functioning adult for an hour.

You drop the phone on your chest and stare at the ceiling, still smiling faintly.

There’s something strange about how good that feels. A message. A check-in. The easy, steady presence of someone who isn’t trying to fix you—just letting you be.

You think about the other night. How you’d told Jimin things you hadn’t even told Evi. How he’d looked at you like you weren’t hard to understand. Like your sadness wasn’t inconvenient. You knew she would never do any of that. But sometimes she had a habit of blowing things a bit out of proportion.

You sit up slowly and start moving around the apartment—put on music, open the windows, wash your face with cold water that shocks your nerves awake. You don’t feel happy, exactly. But you feel okay.

And these days, okay feels like a win.

You tell Jimin you’re in. He sends back a dancing bear sticker and a voice note that makes you laugh because it’s just him humming aggressively off-key to some old ballad he probably heard in a random video online.

You meet at a small café tucked into a quieter side of the city. No crowds. Just the two of you in oversized hoodies, both wearing sunglasses like you’re famous and mildly hungover.

He makes you laugh. Constantly. You talk about nonsense—cereal brands, your irrational fear of jellyfish, his totally rational fear of ghosts. “You always eat so fast,” you say through a mouthful, watching him finish his sandwich in record time.

“I was a growing boy,” he shrugs. “Still am.”

You laugh, flicking a crumb off his jacket. “Sure, Jimin.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, then nudges your foot with his. “You’ve been less... storm cloud-y this week.”

You pause mid-bite. “Storm cloud-y?”

He grins. “Yeah. You usually walk around like you’ve just remembered an embarrassing moment from 8 years ago.”

“I have.”

“That’s fair.” He laughs leaning back on his chair.

“You  just… you looked lighter today.”

You tilt your head. “Lighter?”

“Yeah. Like something’s changed. In a good way.”

You look down at your coffee. Then back at him. “Maybe it has.”

That night, you get home early. The city’s quieter on weekends in your part of town. You’re brushing your hair out when your phone buzzes again.

[Jimin 7:42 PM]:  I meant it, by the way.

[You 7:43 PM]: Meant what?

[Jimin 7:44 PM]:  That you deserve to feel like you belong. You’re good at what you do. But more than that—you’re a good person.

[Jimin 7:44 PM]:  And I’m glad you’re here.

Your chest squeezes unexpectedly.

You stare at the screen for a long moment, thumbs hovering.

You don’t know what to say.

But you type anyway.

[You 7:47 PM]: I’m glad I’m here too.

You hit send. Then turn your phone over, heart a little louder than before.

You declare it before your feet even touch the floor: today, you will take no more than 100 steps. Maximum. It’s a vow, whispered into the quiet of your bedroom like a sacred promise between you and the corners of your house.

Your limbs feel like noodles—soft, limp, and unwilling to engage with the outside world. You stretch, yawn, and flop back onto the mattress, tugging the blanket up to your chin like a barrier against anything productive. Sunlight is peeking through the blinds in lazy slants, catching dust motes that dance in the quiet. You blink slowly. There's no rush.

No alarms. No texts. No notifications. Bliss.

You reach for your phone out of habit and check. Maybe Jimin sent something that will have you going against your promisse in the next 15 minutes.

But…nothing from Jimin.

Odd.

Normally, he sends a meme. A dumb selfie. A random message like “Do bees have knees?” or “You think rabbits ever get tired of hopping?”

But today, your screen is quiet.

You tell yourself not to overthink it. Maybe he’s taking a real day off too. God knows he needs one more than you do. You picture him somewhere in his apartment, wrapped in a blanket burrito with his hair all fluffed out, scrolling endlessly through TikTok while sipping something way too sugary.

You smile at the thought.

The first half of the day passes exactly how you planned. You eat something microwavable, shuffle around the apartment with socks so fuzzy they could double as small animals, and stare at your ceiling more than any emotionally stable person probably should.

You do yoga. Not actual yoga, but the kind where you lie flat on the floor and call it “restorative.” You even light a candle and feel proud of yourself for not burning anything down.

By the time 9 PM rolls around, you’re about 78 steps into your 100-step limit. Victory is in sight.

Then your phone rings.

Evi.

You smile and answer immediately. “Hey. Don’t you have a hot social life to be living right now?”

“You know I’m a grandma after 7 PM,” she shoots back, voice crackling with laughter. “Besides, I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

You melt a little. You missed her. You always do.

“I’m honored,” you say, settling deeper into the couch. “But if this call needs any sort of effort, I’m hanging up.”

“Understood. Minimal movement. Maximum gossip.”

What was meant to be a quick check-in turns into a four-hour marathon.

You talk about work. About Seoul. About the café that put pickles in your grilled cheese and how traumatized you still are. Evi tells you about a guy who tried to flirt with her using a PowerPoint presentation on why they’d make a good couple.

You snort so loudly you scare yourself. “Please tell me he included transition effects.”

“He had star wipes,” she says solemnly.

“Oh God.”

It’s easy. It’s comforting. You forget the time.

Until Evi gasps so loudly you think something’s exploded.

“Oh my god, did you see what’s trending?!”

Your brain scrambles. “What? No. I’ve been horizontal all day.”

She’s already typing. “I’m sending it. Check Twitter. Now. Now.”

“Why are you being dramatic?”

“I’m not. This is a cultural event. Look.”

A notification pops up. One link. No caption.

You tap it.

It takes a second to load. Then—

Your stomach flips.

There’s a photo, blurry but unmistakable. It looks like it was taken from a distance, probably by a phone hidden behind a plant or something equally stalkerish. The lighting is dim, but the person in the picture is clear as day.

Jungkook.

Even with his back turned, you’d recognize that frame anywhere. The black cap pulled low. The shoulders. The way his hands are tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

But that’s not what makes your heart lurch.

It’s the girl beside him.

She’s leaning in, her hand lightly brushing his arm. Her face is half-turned toward him, lips curved in a way that feels too familiar. Too… intimate.

Ji-a.

Your breath catches.

Your throat goes dry.

You don’t realize you’ve gone silent until Evi speaks again, voice cautious.

“You saw it?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Is that—?”

“Jungkook.” You don’t even try to soften it.

There’s a long pause.

Evi doesn’t have to ask why you sound like that. She already knows. You told her about Ji-a in one of your late-night rambles. You said her name the way people say ghost stories—quietly, like saying it too loudly might summon her.

Evi inhales. “It could be nothing.”

You nod even though she can’t see you. “Yeah.”

“He’s not facing the camera. I don’t even know its him”

“It’s him.”

You don’t know how you know. You just do. It’s the way he’s standing. The slope of his shoulders. That slight inward tilt of his head when he’s listening to someone speak. You’ve seen it in real life now. Once. Twice.

Enough times for it to be burned into your brain.

Evi sighs. “I hate that people sneak photos like this.”

“Yeah.”

“And post them like they’re prizes. Like human beings are trophies to be dissected online.”

You nod again, lips pressed tightly together.

You know she’s right.

But still.

Something twists in your stomach. Jealousy? No. You don’t have the right to feel jealous. Hurt, maybe. Disappointed. Or just… embarrassed. You remember the way Jungkook looked at you Friday. Like he saw you. Like he remembered everything.

Like it mattered.

But maybe it didn’t.

Maybe it was just a moment. And this is real.

Your chest tightens.

“This is going to be a shit show. Thank God you are not in PR, bestie” She adds trying to lighten the mood.

You say goodnight soon after. Evi offers to stay on the phone longer, but you politely decline.

When the call ends, silence floods your apartment like rising water.

You stare at the photo again.

You wish you hadn’t.

The comments are worse. Speculations. Ship names. Theories. Some fans defending him, others demanding explanations. And some people—because the internet is the internet—talking about how perfect Ji-a is.

You put your phone face down.

You’re at step 96 now. You know because you count the four steps it takes you to crawl into bed and cocoon yourself in blankets. You stare at the ceiling.

What did you expect?

Jungkook is… Jungkook. He’s allowed to date. Allowed to be seen with whoever he wants.

You just didn’t expect it to sting this much.

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 5 - CHAPTER 7

[azeelafr]

"The Star of Our Show" (Sundrop / Moondrop x Reader story) - Chapter 1 *REWRITING* (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1238355718-the-star-of-our-show-sundrop-moondrop-x-reader?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=probablyfloppinglmao I wanted to write smth as a comfort for myself and I love Sun & moon SO much. Y/N (or us-) joins as a nightguard for the daycare. Working as a nightguard (or more) at a daycare seems easy enough! But could more blossom from this event? Will y/n find something unexpectedly? Let's find out! I also plan on making this series a long one, and will try to keep y'all entertained. I'm not sure how it's gonna go down, but I promise it'll work out in the end. *WARNING FOR ABANDONMENT ISSUES AND ANGST.. this story may get deep* I CANT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS BUT THIS STORY ISNT BASED OFF OF THE SUN AND MOON SHOW!!! I take a few ideas from it but please separate this work of fiction from the YouTube channel. :) Btw, I keep forgetting to say this apparently, but the reader here is genderfluid! I'll go through they/them pronouns with the reader, however they'll be neutral around stuff like miss, mister, ma'am, sir, stuff like that ig.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Dreams Of A Youth (on Wattpad)

Olivia, your average fourteen-year-old is the younger sister of Leah Williamson, she's a girl with her own dreams and goals, but she's also got a bad temper and often finds herself in trouble a lot. One mistake too many and finds herself now living in London with her sister as she starts the new chapter in her life, doors' open and opportunites are created, so will the teenager take them?

[kitttcatalyst]

The Devil Couldn't Reach Me So He Sent Me Kacchan.

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PartsParts 232323

TimeTime 1h 28m1 hours, 28 minutes1h 28m

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KittyCatalyst2021

Complete

Complete, First published 1 day ago

Mature

I have spent my whole life chasing after Katsuki Bakugo."

When I was four, I followed him like a shadow.

When I was ten, I reached for him even as he pushed me away. When I was sixteen, I realized-I never really stopped. It should've been different. We should have stayed rivals, or maybe just friends. But I never knew how to love him in halves.

Even when we weren't speaking, even when he hated me, even when I tried to let go-I loved him. Quietly. Desperately. Like breathing. And then, one day, I stopped being the only one reaching.

Because somewhere along the way, Katsuki Bakugo started reaching back. It starts with little things. Tea waiting for me after a hard mission.

The way he watches me when he thinks I won't notice. The way he sees me-the real me, the one the world has forgotten in the wake of the hero they want me to be.

And when he snaps-when all the unspoken things between us finally ignite-there is no stopping it.

Because this was never a rivalry. This was never just friendship. This was never something we could have avoided.

This was a love story. And it was always going to be us.

[bluberryblurays]

I Can Only Be Me (FengQing) (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/370282655-i-can-only-be-me-fengqing During their latest fight in the heavenly capital, Fengxin majorly fucked up. And it's only when Mu Qing refuses to even engage with him, that Feng Xin realises he might feel something other than animosity towards Mu Qing. Split POV between Mu Qing and Feng Xin. Completed story!

[helianthus22]

him & i ↠ rafe cameron - Chapter One (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1434470119-him-i-%E2%86%A0-rafe-cameron-chapter-one?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Masddye69 "𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒: it will kill you and save you, both" - Lauren Oliver. Julia Wasson had ties to Kildare Island. Her mother grew up there on The Cut. She never knew that part of her mother's life, only the life that they shared together...that all changed when her Aunt Rose and mother Violet reconnected. This summer was going to spent at her Aunt Rose and Uncle Ward's Tannyhill mansion on the Figure Eight... She heard stories as a young girl of her mother's envy and admiration of the rich upper class lifestyle. Now, this summer they were going to live it. She never knew this summer would take a twist that would stop her whole world. Meeting the brooding prodigal son of the wealthiest on the Figure Eight, Rafe Cameron, was going to change the course of her life forever. Was love enough to save them from the depths of each-other? © luxuriouslass - 2024 ​🇩​​🇮​​🇸​​🇨​​🇱​​🇦​​🇮​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​ ↳ All major characters are above the age of 18 and should be viewed by readers 18+. The following story contains ⋆ sex, drugs, alcohol, guns, toxic behavior and a-lot of angst. ⋆

[stargirl-writer]

PISTANTHROPHOBIA- BOOK 1 OF THE PHOBIA SERIES - Chapter Thirty-Seven (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1477184214-pistanthrophobia-book-1-of-the-phobia-series?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Stargirl-Writer Simora James, a fiercely independent and cautious yet impulsive young woman, finds herself at odds with Miles Davidson, a seemingly laid-back and carefree boy who appears to glide through life without a care. Their initial encounters are marked by sharp exchanges and mutual disdain, each viewing the other as the embodiment of traits they despise. However, as circumstances force them into close proximity, Simora's guarded heart begins to see the depth beneath Miles' relaxed facade. Simora learns that his calm demeanor hides a well of strength and determination, while Miles discovers that her impulsiveness is driven by a passionate and caring spirit. Their journey from adversaries to lovers is fraught with tension, misunderstandings, and unexpected moments of vulnerability, ultimately revealing that they are more alike than they ever imagined, each complementing and challenging the other in ways they never thought possible.

[marsi-is-depressed]

"Okay."

The eleventh doctor x female reader

CW/tw: severe physical abuse by the reader's mother, blood and wounds, the doctor misses the reader, a fluffy moment between the reader and the doctor, a lot of tears from the doctor, and the reader's desire for peace and her doctor, fluff at the end.

Despite not being very fond of the idea of telling the doctor, Y/N knew she could not handle this type of abuse anymore, she needed a way out, someone to hold onto. She needed to let go of her mother even though still loved her to bits...

You had lived with your mother for as long as she could recall, enduring various forms of abuse. being struck physically by fists, legs, feet, wine glasses or bottles, pottery or ceramic vases, or pretty much anything else that may harm her. In the end, you could tolerate it; you just didn't know if the doctor could any longer.

You were lying down in the sickbay, your bloody white shoes placed on the spotless white floor of the TARDIS. Your mother had thrown a broken wine glass at you, a normal occurrence, it was better than her directly hitting you. It had sliced the skin on your right cheek.

“I'm sorry I called, please say something.” Your voice was hoarse.

He stitched your cheek closed, you were facing him, looking away from his eyes, squirming a little.

“Why don't you just move in with me, I have enough space for hundreds of people?" There was hardly any energy in his voice.

When you arrived he wasn't shocked. He knew what had happened. Blood seeping from your cheek onto your white trainers, guiding you to the sick bay inside the TARDIS and laying you down, shushing you gently and telling you he’d get you stitched up. He considered transporting you to the little, round-the-clock hospital nearby, but your fright discouraged him, clawing onto his brown blazer ready to have a panic attack from hearing his words.

He stitched your wound, covering it with a gauze and bandage. A few months prior, he had loaded up on pharmaceuticals. He feared that one day you wouldn't walk through the blue doors in need of medical attention for your injuries. You would eventually disappear, wandering about your dismal home and discovering your lifeless, frigid body. He had often considered telling a higher authority behind your back, but he would lose you at that point. 

You started to sob at his actions, glancing down at your bloody, bashed-up white trainers.

"Y/n," He said lovingly, stroking your hair. As you sniffled and sobbed, his hand came to a halt as he pressed his lips to your forehead like he has always done. "Calm down, darling." 

"What took place this time?" He remarked, extending his hand to hand you your shoes. 

You yearned for the times when you were alone only yourself and the doctor, when there was no shouting. Under your black woolly top from yesterday night, the belt mark on your lower side is still fresh and just barely scabbing over as you sit up, stretch, and grimace. You push memories away, shutting them off, and they come flooding back.

The doctor turned his attention from you to the control console and chewed his lip hard. “Join me here for a few days. You shouldn't return to your mother, in my opinion.” He wanted you to live with him and travel with him for a long time. He didn't get it, and you got into many arguments over it.

He took hold of your forehead and planted a kiss on it again, "I have missed you." He spoke softly in your ear. The doctor practically examined your depressed cheeks and black circles while holding you to his chest. When his eyes met yours, they became softer. As you both started to approach his room, he smiled softly and took your hand. He continued to stroke his thumb on the back of your hand, seemingly knowing what you were going through.

How long before the words become so painful that you would end your life to avoid them? How much longer will it take until he stands by your grave?

"Doctor, don't worry about me." You muttered. "I'll be all right."

"No, you won't.", he responds truthfully and lightly wiping the tears from his eye

"Please, don’t worry.. it is only a minor wound. Never waste your regeneration energy on me, please." You both arrived in his messy bedroom.  “I would do anything to heal you, my energy isn't being wasted.” He rasped.

He hugs you, you're a whimpering mess. He takes care not to get in contact with your bandage. "Dear, I can't stop worrying about you." His voice is so full of emotion that it almost cracks. He lays you down on your left side to not irritate your right cheek, while laying himself behind you and wrapping his arms around your lower side.

All you could do was scream in agony as he hardly touched your side. When you broke down on his bed, all you could do was shake violently and cry quietly. The doctor let go and leapt off the bed while still facing your trembling body and wrapping your arms over yourself. A searing discomfort began to develop as the cloth gradually became moist and darkened. 

"y/n," The doctor was kneeling beside you and resting a hand on your back. "What happened? May I raise your jumper?" Instead of meeting his eyes, you simply shook your head.  

"P-please y/n?" His voice cracked, and you noticed that he was letting his tears fall when you gently turned and opened your eyes. The clever boy was crying as he gazed at you. Having been defeated, you allowed him to carefully lift you from the bed as if you were a piece of beautiful porcelain from antiquity that could break into a million pieces at the touch of a finger.

With tears in his eyes, the doctor took a step forward and swore. "I'll get your belongings; you're staying here. She will not see me." This time, he was unable to control his tears. He had no idea how he was feeling. You were pulled into him by the doctor's hug, and you felt comforted by his warmth and held securely, afraid that you would disappear if he let go.

It has been nearly two years since this began. However, it wasn't until tonight that you understood you were tired. Your body was enveloped in an overpowering sense of dread, which weighed you down like rain and covered you like a blanket. You were unable to control your emotions. I felt a sense of relief.

At last, you wrapped your arms around his torso. You shivered as you whimpered as your body relaxed into his grasp. When you heard his words, you smiled. You relax into the doctor's arms and murmur at his words because you're too exhausted to reply. Perhaps the doctor might change your life, but only time will tell. For now, though, you were happy in the doctor's arms, imagining that this was never going to end.

You finally felt at peace. "Okay."

[missmarveledsblog]

Angel night ( frank castle x reader )

Summary : Frank comes home to thinking his angel is in danger only to realise that she has had a nightmare . he makes sure to comfort his girl . this like part of what i will be calling the angel verse  of our beloved bad ass punisher and his equally bad ass sarcastic ball of sunshine that is y/n " angel" murdock . 

Warnings: angsty fluffy fun , Frank being a teddy bear (I love making big badass men teddy bears) . I have a smutty version post soon , If wanted . 

A year to the night when he first met Angel, it would have been laughable if someone told him he would fall head over heels in love with a Murdock , but yet now here he was coming home to their shared apartment.

Coming back to the place he once deemed just that, the place in which he slept and ate, was now a home. Each part has some sort of reminder of the woman who brought sunshine and light into the dark hole he felt his life become. He never thought he could love again, find a second chance to be the happiest he'd ever been and yet here he was smile on his face looking around his home. Even if he was bloody and bruised after spending a few days with said woman's annoying older brother. That smile soon faded, like he could clock something was wrong. His angel didn't come to greet him like she always did no matter what time of the night or day he got back  . A familiar chill ran down his back as he inspected the place nothing seemed to be touched it should have calmed his fears knowing if she was under some sort of threat she would leave evidence of such an event. Yet when her screams hit his ear sent him into action mode straight through to the bedroom expecting to see the worst.

Gun drawn he looked around for the threat like it was second nature then he saw her face. That told him everything he needed to know , the pain on her face as she moved in the bed , the sweat on her forehead. She was having a nightmare and a bad one at that.

" Angel" he called soft and gentle hoping the tone could change the course of her dreams which sometimes worked or wake her from the hell she was trapped in . He went to move forward only for her to shoot up gasping and panting for air tired confused eyes trying to make sense of the environment before locking on him.

" Fr-Frank you're ok? Please say you're ok" she pleaded voice filled with heartbreak and fear . asking him insisting to confirm it was just a nightmare. It broke his heart seeing her so sorrowful like she was still trying to distinguish reality and dream . He didn't speak partially because he was relieved she wasn't under some threat or worse . Wordlessly he took off the tactical gear he was wearing before lifting her in his arms letting her heartbroken sobs soak into the shirt he was wearing. Sitting her on their sofa and kissing her head he went to the kitchen. Chuckling at the burnt pot soaking into the sink. He began making the hot chocolate one she enjoyed most during bad times,which this deemed to be one of those. Making his more Irish, he carried the cups into the living room and deal with the cleanup in the morning, right now it really wasn't important. Handing her the cup and placing his own on the coffee table noticing the shivers down her body , instantly sitting on the sofa and pulling her into his lap wrappin the comforter around her body .

" You're ok" she repeated like it was all she could say .

"I'm ok , I got you sweet girl" he kissed her head holding her a little tighter . Not a word spoken nor was he going to ask , he knew when she was ready she would and if she didn’t well he was ok with that too once she was ok . Taken her from the room to ground herself and let her just bare her senses . Let her ground herself after the trauma her unconscious inflicted. It was bad he knew as much her nightmare never spilt out physically or made her scream that loud. Soft touches and kisses reminded her, He was there keeping her safe from the unseen monsters. Waiting til she was ready if she ever was ready to talk about it either way he was there for her.

An hour of silence , an hour of just feeling him under her touch knowing he was actually there. At first it felt like a trick of her mind , the dream was so vivid that real life seemed as it was the dreamland . Finally finding her voice she lifted her head eyes looking into his , scanning his face like it was another thing she need to do to definitely be sure .

" They got me , i don't know how but when my eyes opened i was in the dingey room , i could actually smell the damp and mould , it was so real i could feel the binds around my wrist" she said lip trembling as she rubbed the skin of her wrists only for him to take each hand and placing a kiss on the skin so softly .

" They wanted me to work for them, comply with their evil requests and do their dirty work. I kept saying no I wasn't a monster like them,I tried using my powers and they wouldn't come all I kept thinking about was you and Matt as I pulled on the binds, Then like they could read my mind " She paused willing herself not to break as he rubbed her hand letting her know she wasn't alone nor did she need to continue if it was too much one things she loved about him. Frank never pressured her into anything, never controlled any aspect of her life something she never had before.

" They pulled... They pulled you into the room, hogtied and gagged, bruised and bloody i begged them to let you go and they laughed" she sniffled. " They kept asking me to do it and I said no, you said no and each time they hit you and each time it was harder, It was so real I could hear their fist hit your skin, your pained grunts and groans. I screamed for them to let you go when your eyes started getting heavy , slipping away. so I agreed , I would do whatever they wanted me to do, whatever I could to make sure they would stop hurting you, I would do anything to keep you from harm" she cried only for his hand to come up and wipe the tears off her cheeks.

" Then ..oh god They shot you and laughed when I screamed , crying begging you to wake up and then he turned and went to grab me by the throat i couldn't breathe . I woke up" she looked up into his eyes .

All he wanted to do was take that pain, all those fears from her. Take all those negative feelings and make them positive. Seeing the one he loves the most so scared,  so pained never was something he wanted nor would he wish for.  All he wanted to see on her face was smiles although seeing her mad was a hot one, though he made sure it never lasted so long . She was usually the one making everyone so happy and laughing and now it was her turn to be taken care of. 

He held her face in his hand kissing her cheeks , her forehead , nose before kissing her lips letting her know he was there and not planning on leaving at anytime soon .

"Angel , my sweet girl i promise you with every fibre in my being those sick fucks will never get you , nor will they hurt you in any shape , we both know you are a powerhouse all on your own powers or not , But in saying that I will kill them all, I would burn this world to make sure it meant you were safe, you, my sweet girl gave me a second chance at something i never knew could exist , One that has me looking forward to coming home , waking up in the morning i will let nothing get in the way of that" he kissed her lips again .

" What if you get killed running around with my brother" she sniffled.

" I always will come home to you no matter what that brother of yours pulls me into, I'll keep him safe too, I'm here, I'm breathing, see my heart is beating, it's beating stronger ever since your sassy little ass came into my life," he said softly holding her hand to his chest. " Every part of me will make sure I come home to you because you are my everything and more, You gave me something I never thought I would have, something I thought I gave up on so long ago, something so forbidden it was impossible for me to even think of, you gave me a future, You repaired a man so broken that others would have just cast away and deemed so unfixable. You gave me a second chance at living I love you so much angel I hope you know you saved me " he pulled her into his arms . " Well unless you cook for me well then sorry that's out of my hands " he chuckled only to hear her giggles muffled in his t-shirt and her hand bat his chest.

" Hey i'm not that bad but  i love you too " she looked up now smile on her face.

" Say that to the pot in there, there she is, there's my girl now how about we get some sleep and I make us some breakfast in the morning and we have a lazy ass day watching movies and eating junk food, can even prank call your brother and stark I know you love winding those two up " he kissed her lips before lifting her in his arms and carrying her into the room. Both physically and emotionally tired as her head on his chest hand over his heart. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his hands on her scalp soothing her . She felt her eyes getting heavy and drifting off to sweeter dreams one where she lived a future with the man she never thought she would find herself falling in love with giving their first encounter.

While he watched her fall into a soothing sleep , wondering when it was the best time to use that ring he hid snugly in his drawer,unbeknownst to him of making her dreams a reality . He meant it when he said it , he would burn the world burn just for her to be safe and he was going to do everything to keep her safe. But for now, All he could do was hold his angel , his favourite Murdock and let his own dreams take over one's now filled with promises of a better and bright future. Because a future with angel ,was a future worth living for .  

[kikiswriting7]

Seoul Connection ✈︎ JJK ✈︎ PJM

CHAPTER 5

Authors note: Its a big one hahah my hand slipped You are not exactly sure how you ended up here. You are sitting in the middle of Yoshi and Seo-Jun while Sana throws her head back laughing and leans against Mitsuki. You became friends during the week that had passed, as Yoshi was in the same position as you — but for another group.

The room buzzes with easy conversation and half-eaten snacks scattered across the low table in front of you. Someone’s Bluetooth speaker is playing some upbeat music in the background, the kind that makes everything feel like a movie montage.

You glance at Yoshi, who’s balancing a chopstick on her upper lip like a walrus. She grins when she catches your eye and leans closer, whispering, “You realize we’ve completely infiltrated their inner circle, right?”

You snort. “You make it sound like we’re on a spy mission.”

She raises a brow. “Aren’t we?”

Seo-Jun, catching your exchange, shakes his head with a smile and passes you the last shrimp chip. “Better eat it before Mitsuki sees.”

“Hey!” Mitsuki calls from across the couch. “I heard that!”

Sana giggles harder and nearly spills her drink, slapping Mitsuki’s arm like it’s her fault she finds everything this funny. You realize your cheeks hurt from smiling, which surprises you. You hadn’t expected this — to feel so relaxed, so included — not insuch a short time.

For a moment, you let yourself soak it in: the warm press of Yoshi’s shoulder against yours, Seo-Jun’s dry humor, Sana’s uncontainable laughter, the distant sound of someone starting to sing along off-key.

You met Yoshi first — your unexpected lifeline in a sea of chaos, when both of you showed up on site for a dance challenge between one of ‘your boys’ and hers, you both wide-eyed and unsure where to even stand. She was going through the same thing but just with another group, and instantly took you under her wing, as the social butterfly she is.

Through her, you met Mitsuki — warm, naturally chaotic, and somehow always both the loudest and most observant in the room. Mitsuki brought you into the fold without hesitation, acting like you’d always been part of their circle.

And with Mitsuki came Seo-Jun and Sana.

Seo-Jun, calm and a little blunt, had seemed intimidating at first. It took you a while to realize his quietness wasn’t disinterest — just that he didn’t feel the need to talk unless he had something worth saying. He’s already a full-time employee, someone who knows the ropes and looks at your current internship with a quiet sort of amusement.

Sana is different. Sunshine with a sharp edge. She works with BTS too, but in a role that doesn’t have her glued to them 24/7 like yours. She's seen things, knows things, but never flaunts it — instead, she focuses on everyone else, drawing people in with ease, like laughter is something she hands out on demand.

A beat passes. Then two.

And just when the moment starts to settle into a comforting kind of quiet, Sana suddenly gasps. “Truth or dare.”

Groans ripple around the room. Seo-Jun immediately throws his head back against the couch cushion. “No.”

“Yes,” Sana insists, sitting up and pointing at him with dramatic flair. “You are too mysterious for your own good. I need answers.”

“I vote yes,” Mitsuki says, raising his hand like they’re in a board meeting.

“Traitor,” Seo-Jun mutters.

Yoshi’s already grinning and sitting up straight  “Alright. But if we’re doing this, we go full chaos mode.”

“I’m scared,” you say, laughing.

“You should be,” Yoshi replies without missing a beat.

Before long, the circle is formed. Someone dims the lights. Sana finds a bottle to spin — of course she does — and the first few rounds are harmless: sing the chorus of a guilty pleasure song, show the last meme you saved, attempt to do a handstand (which goes horribly for Mitsuki and earns loud applause anyway).

Then the bottle spins and lands on you.

“Truth or dare?” Sana asks, eyes twinkling like she’s already plotting your downfall.

You hesitate. “Truth.”

Groans again. “Boring!” Yoshi yells, but you shrug at him. You’re still trying to preserve what little dignity you have left.

Sana doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright,” she says, smirking. “Who in this room did you expect not to like when you first met them?”

The room erupts in oooooohs.

You freeze, mouth parting slightly. “What kind of loaded question—?”

“Answer it!” Mitsuki cackles.

Your gaze flicks to Seo-Jun, who’s watching you calmly over the rim of his drink. To Sana, who’s definitely enjoying this. To Yoshi, who just looks way too entertained.

You inhale, then blurt out, “Seo-Jun.”

More gasps. Even a bit of fake betrayal from Mitsuki, though he wasn’t even mentioned.

Seo-Jun raises a brow. “Fair. I thought you were too polite to be real.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he says, setting his drink down. “But then I heard you curse under your breath in the elevator on Thursday and figured you were human.”

The group erupts into laughter again, but this time, it feels warmer. Softer.

Your shoulders relax without you realizing it.

You catch Seo-Jun looking at you, though not saying anything more — just watching, like he sees something that makes him smile quietly to himself.

You’re not sure what that means.

But the bottle is spinning again, and for now, you don’t ask. As the bottle lands on Mitsuki, who groans dramatically as Sana claps like a game show host.

“Truth or dare?” she asks, grinning wickedly.

“Dare,” Mitsuki says, sitting up straighter like she’s bracing for impact.

“I dare you,” Sana says, eyes gleaming, “to post an Insta story with the caption ‘catch flights not feelings’ while holding Seo-Jun’s hand.”

The room erupts. Even Seo-Jun laughs, half covering his face with his sleeve.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze. “That’s so 2016.”

“But kind of iconic,” Yoshi adds, snorting into her drink.

Mitsuki plays along, grabs Seo-Jun’s reluctant hand and strikes a peace-sign pose while Sana fumbles for her phone. You swear your cheeks ache from how much you’ve smiled tonight.

When it’s Yoshi’s turn next, she picks truth. Sana narrows her eyes like she’s about to ask something deeply invasive, but instead says, “What’s something you haven’t told anyone since arriving here?”

Yoshi falls quiet.

Not in a tense way — more thoughtful. She stares at the ceiling for a moment, then says softly, “That I almost didn’t come. I was scared I’d mess everything up. That I wouldn’t find anyone who… got me.”

No one says anything right away, and the silence feels delicate. Then you reach over and squeeze her hand, and she looks over with a soft smile.

“Well, that was dumb,” you say, teasing gently. “You’re everyone's favorite already.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seo-Jun mutters, but there’s no real heat in it.

Yoshi squeezes your hand back.

It’s odd, you think. How fast people can go from strangers to comfort zones. How easy it is to laugh with them like you’ve known them longer than a week.

Sana yawns loudly and announces, “Alright, I’m claiming this couch and Mitsuki is my pillow.”

Everyone begins shifting around, the game dissolving into sleepy chatter and late-night laziness. You find yourself tucked next to Yoshi again as the group stretches out across the room in various stages of exhaustion.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says suddenly, just loud enough for you to hear.

You glance at her, a little surprised.

“Me too,” you say, quieter still.

And for the first time since you got here, you feel like maybe — just maybe — you belong too.

Monday hits hard, but the studio buzzes with energy before you’ve even had your coffee. Comebacks do that, apparently—everyone’s running on nerves, caffeine, and a little too much hairspray.

You’re balancing a tablet and three paper schedules when someone taps your arm.

“Are you part-time barista now, too?” Jin jokes, eyeing the coffee tray in your other hand.

You laugh. “Only for the cranky and the overworked.”

“Perfect,” he says, snagging one before you can answer.

Jungkook’s sitting on the couch nearby, hoodie up, absently watching rehearsal footage on a monitor. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him glancing your way. When you set a coffee beside him, he looks up—brief eye contact, a quiet “thanks,” and then back to the screen.

Jimin walks in a minute later, beaming like he hasn’t just danced for six hours straight.

“Morning,” he says brightly, and your name rolls off his tongue like he’s said it a hundred times. “You survived the weekend?”

“Barely,” you say. “I think Yoshi broke my spine. Or maybe Mitsuki’s couch did.”

He laughs, leaning in like it’s a private joke. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve rescued you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “With what? Your limited cooking skills and anime recommendations?”

“Exactly.”

Behind him, Taehyung’s dragging a chair into the corner. Sana stands beside him, flipping through notes, her eyes narrowing in concentration. You catch her eye, and she gives you a quick, subtle nod—shared understanding between coworkers in the same storm.

Namjoon enters mid-call, Yoongi trailing behind him with a snack in hand. Hoseok’s already stretching out by the mirrors. The energy shifts when they’re all in one space—bigger, louder, like the air itself rearranges to make room for them.

You hover near the monitor, watching choreography edits with the rest of the team, but you feel it when someone steps beside you.

Jungkook.

He doesn’t speak, just folds his arms and watches the footage like you do. You steal a glance at him—his profile calm, unreadable—and then look away again.

It’s like that with him. Presence without pressure. Silence that feels just full enough.

“Make sure they get a water break in ten,” Sana says, nodding toward the guys. You nod back and pull out your phone to set a reminder.

Jimin’s voice carries from across the room, teasing Hoseok about his messy bun. The others laugh.

You’re seated on the floor near the back wall of the dance studio, finishing up notes on your tablet when Hoseok flops down beside you, dramatically wiping sweat from his forehead.

“You survived,” he says, voice breathless but teasing. “We almost didn’t.”

You glance up from your screen. “You say that every rehearsal.”

“Because it’s true every time,” he grins. “This choreo is no joke. Try doing it yourself them come talk to me.” You roll your eyes playfully at his comment and go back to what you were working on.

On the floor nearby, Jungkook is lying flat on his back, shirt damp, chest rising and falling steadily as he recovers from the last run-through. Jimin’s sitting beside him, chugging water while teasing Taehyung about a missed count. Namjoon scrolls through something on his phone, and Jin’s rifling through the snack box like it owes him something.

You’re technically not needed for another fifteen minutes, but no one seems to mind you staying.

“You’ve got the look,” Yoongi says from across the room, pointing a finger at you without looking up from his notes.

“The look?” You question him, your gaze curious to what hes so entertained by his notes.

“The ‘what did I sign up for’ look.”

You smile. “You mean the ‘I’ve never sweat this much from watching other people dance’ look?”

He lets out a low laugh. “Yeah. That one.”

Jimin, overhearing, scoots a little closer, pointing at the notes in your lap. “Are those for the team or for us?”

“Team. But I can make a few copies if you promise not to crumple them into your bag.”

“No promises,” Jin calls from the snack pile.

Jungkook finally sits up, arms propped on his knees. “She’s already better than half the staff we’ve had.”

You blink at the unexpected compliment, and he meets your eyes just briefly before looking away again, like he didn’t mean for it to come out so bluntly.

Taehyung nudges your foot with his own, grinning. “Look at you, making fans.”

“Should I start a club?” you tease trying to go back to what you were doing.

Hoseok lifts his head. “Too late. We’ve already named it.”

“Oh?”

“The Y/N Protection Squad,” he says proudly. “It’s exclusive. Invitation only.”

“She didn’t even ask to be protected,” Namjoon says without looking up.

“Exactly,” Taehyung adds. “That’s why it’s a squad. She doesn’t even know we’re protecting her.”

They’re all talking at once now, bouncing off each other like it’s just another inside joke in a long list you haven’t fully caught up with yet—but the difference now is that they’re pulling you into it. Not watching from a distance. Not treating you like a nobody, which is exactly like you thought it would be. Its exactly what internships are, right? You are the corporate slave that does the job nobody wants to do. Like making photocopies of useless papers. But here…. Its comfortable. Letting you exist in their space as one of them.

Even Jungkook, who doesn’t say much, offers you his unopened bottle of water before getting up and muttering something about changing his shirt.

You take it, not because you’re thirsty—but because it’s the first time he’s handed you something without being askedsince you arrived.

Later, as they trickle out one by one, Jimin lingers.

“You staying late again?”

“Probably,” you say, glancing at the untouched parts of your schedule.

He offers a sympathetic smile. “Don’t work too hard. You’re allowed to like this, you know.”

You nod, unsure of how to answer that. Because you do like it.

You like them.

And you’re starting to think they might like you too.

It’s late. The kind of late where most of the building has gone quiet, lights dimmed in the hallways, and even the vending machines seem like they’ve powered down for the night.

You were just coming back for your badge—you’d left it in the sound room during the last meeting. It should’ve been a two-minute detour. In and out. No big deal.

But then, you hear something.

Low voices. Close. Around the corner near the back stairwell—the one barely anyone uses unless they’re avoiding being seen.

You pause, footsteps going still against the polished floor.

“Come on,” a girl’s voice says—soft but sharp at the edges. “You said tonight.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Jungkook’s voice answers, and your chest goes still. “I said maybe.”

There’s a shift in the air, like you’ve walked into something private. And yet, your feet don’t move.

The girl scoffs, not loud enough to echo. “You always say maybe. Then you disappear.”

“I told you,” he says, quieter now, like he’s trying not to be overheard. “I don’t want anyone finding out.”

“So you are embarrassed.”

“No.” The word comes fast. Too fast. Then slower: “It’s not like that.”

It’s hard to tell what exactly stings in that moment—but something does. A prickling behind your ribs, heat rising slowly in your chest like a wave you weren’t expecting. You don’t understand why you’re still standing here. Why your legs won’t move. Why hearing his voice like this makes your throat tighten.

The girl speaks again. “Then what is it like, Jungkook?”

There’s silence for a beat.

And then, almost reluctantly, he says, “It’s just not… serious.”

Something drops in your stomach.

The girl lets out a sigh—a little too theatrical—and steps closer. You hear her heels click softly. “Well, if it’s not serious,” she murmurs, “then why do you always act like we’re doing something wrong?”

You lean the slightest bit forward, and your shoulder brushes the wall. A quiet sound—but enough.

Jungkook turns.

His eyes find yours immediately, and something in his expression shifts—like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t, even if technically, he hasn’t done anything at all.

The girl follows his gaze and straightens, smoothing her shirt like it matters.

You don’t say anything.

You just stand there, caught in the strangest emotion you can’t name. You aren’t angry. You aren’t hurt. Not really. But there’s this weird hollow ache spreading in your chest—something close to disappointment, maybe. Or confusion. Or something heavier that you don’t want to examine too closely.

You force yourself to nod with a very weird and fake smile. Not cold, not warm. Just… neutral. Like you didn’t hear enough to matter. Like you’re okay.—You’re not sure if you are.

You walk away before he can say anything. His voice catches on your name, soft and uncertain.

But you don’t turn around.

You keep your head down when you walk into the BTS floor the next morning, hoping no one will notice the way you didn’t sleep much. There’s a dull pressure behind your eyes, but you’ve tucked your hair neatly back and thrown on a clean hoodie, so maybe that’s enough to make it through the day.

Most of the guys are already there—scattered across the space, talking over breakfast or lounging on the couches with their phones. The usual quiet chaos.

You pretend not to scan the room.

He’s there.

Jungkook’s standing by the fridge, bent slightly as he digs around for a drink. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, headphones looped around his neck, hair pushed back like he didn’t try too hard—but not messy, either.

He looks like he always does.

Except he doesn’t.

Because he’s watching you. Quietly. From the corner of his eye, like he’s been doing it for a while.

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze.

It’s brief—half a second, maybe less—but your stomach twists anyway. He straightens up quickly, drink forgotten in his hand, lips parting like he’s about to say something.

But you turn away.

You’re not trying to be dramatic. You’re just not ready.

Not for his explanation, not for his shrug, not for whatever careful thing he might say to smooth it over. You don’t want to hear him say its nothing, not when it clearly meant something that he didn’t want anyone to know.

You slide into your usual spot near the monitors and pull out your tablet, focusing on anything but him.

The air feels weird all morning.

He doesn’t come near you.

But you feel him. His glances. His hesitation. The way his voice drops when he talks to other people near you, like he’s careful not to be too loud. Like if he sounds normal, it might make everything worse.

Jimin ends up next to you at one point, joking about how tired he is, and when you laugh—just enough to be polite—you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s posture tightens across the room.

You don’t know if it’s guilt or something else.

And you don’t ask.

Because if he really wanted to talk to you… he would’ve done it by now.

You’re sitting on the far side of the room, headphones half-on as you skim through a rough cut of their behind-the-scenes footage. They’re gathered just across the room on the lounge couches, sprawled out and tossing snacks between themselves like it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, not a packed weekday.

It’s nice. Comfortable. Loud.

Until it isn’t.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says around a mouthful of chips, “didn’t Jungkook sneak out after dinner last week?”

You don’t react.

At least, not on the outside.

Namjoon looks up from his phone. “Oh yeah, you disappeared. You were gone like an hour.”

“An hour?” Jimin laughs. “Bro was gone the whole night.”

You keep your eyes on the screen, tapping your stylus like nothing’s shifted. But the room tilts slightly—something inside you shrinking, pulling taut like a wire.

Jungkook groans softly, but there’s a note of defensiveness under it. “Don’t start.”

“Wait,” Jin says, leaning in. “Was it that girl? The one from—what was it—like a month ago?”

You pause your video. Just for a second. Then restart it. Keep pretending.

“Not important,” Jungkook says quickly. It’s not embarrassed. It’s… careful.

“She’s cute,” Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing serious, right?”

“No,” Jungkook mutters. “Not serious.”

There’s laughter. A few jokes tossed around.

No one’s being mean. No one’s trying to hurt anybody. It’s just boys talking.

But still, something inside you curls in on itself.

You don’t know why your fingers feel colder. Why your throat’s dry. Why every version of “not serious” echoes louder than the last.

You hadn’t thought about him much today. Had buried it, tucked it neatly behind to-do lists and edits and that new note you made for their stage lighting.

But now he’s right there again. Not looking at you. Talking like you’re not listening.

And maybe that’s the part that stings the most.

Not because you wanted him to like you.

You swallow and adjust your headphones higher on your ears, blocking out the rest of it.

The screen in front of you flickers into a new frame. Taehyung laughing into the camera, someone offscreen cracking up behind it.

You force yourself to focus. Pretend you didn’t hear anything at all. -- You’re getting good at that.

It’s weird how easily Jungkook slips back into being himself.

The next day, he’s in the studio early, hoodie slung loose over his shoulders, hair still wet from a rushed shower. You spot him the second you walk in—he’s balancing a paper cup of iced coffee on his knee, headphones around his neck, half-humming something under his breath while scrolling through his phone.

He glances up when you enter.

And smiles.

Not forced. Not apologetic.

Just—bright. Like nothing’s strange. Like you’re still in that awkward-soft place from a week ago where you were just getting used to each other.

“Morning,” he says, sing-song and cheerful.

You blink. “Morning.”

You sit at the far end of the work table and open your laptop. He doesn’t move toward you, but he watches. Just for a second. Then glances away like he doesn’t want to make it weird.

Later, he offers you a snack—just slides it across the table with a nudge and a grin.

You nod politely. “Thanks.”

Still no eye contact.

He keeps trying, though.

Little things.

He tosses a foamball at you when the room gets quiet. It bounces off your desk and lands at your feet. You blink down at it, expression unreadable, and when you look up, he’s waiting with that sheepish smile, like come on, smile back.

You don’t.

Not because you’re mad. You just… can’t.

It feels strange. Too familiar.

He doesn’t stop, though. Not even when it becomes obvious that you’re not meeting him halfway.

At one point, when most of the others are gone, he passes behind your chair to get to the water dispenser. You feel him slow. Hover.

“You okay?” he asks.

It’s soft. Kind. Genuinely concerned.

And it makes your chest ache.

You force a tiny smile, eyes still on your screen. “Just tired.”

He hesitates. Then lightly taps the back of your chair with his knuckles. “Don’t burn yourself out.”

You nod once.

He walks away.

And that’s the thing—you want to believe he means well. That he’s just being friendly, that this is who he is.

But it’s hard to separate his warmth from the ache he left in you.

Harder still to pretend that his attention doesn’t feel like salt on a wound you’re trying not to name.

The thing is—he doesn’t stop.

Over the next few days, Jungkook finds little excuses to be around you. He’s not pushy. He’s not obvious. But he’s there.

And he’s always nice.

Too nice.

He compliments your hoodie on thursday, even though you’re pretty sure you’ve worn it before and he’s never mentioned it.

He brings in an extra drink “by accident” and just happens to hand it to you.

He jokes with you when the group teases Jin. Bumps your shoulder when something funny happens. Looks your way first when Taehyung says something ridiculous, like the two of you are sharing a private joke even though you’re barely reacting.

It’s not overbearing.

But it’s constant.

And it’s confusing.

Because now your stomach twists for a whole new reason. Not from seeing him with someone else. Not from the ache of being invisible.

But from the way he keeps acting like you’re not.

Like he wants to be close. Like he’s trying to pull you back in without ever saying anything out loud.

And you hate that it’s working, even just a little.

You hate that when he calls your name in that soft, playful way—“Y/N-ahhh”—you still look up without thinking.

You hate that you want to ask him why he’s being so warm when he knows you caught him red handed.

You hate that you don’t even know who she was.

And you really hate that it doesn’t make it easier.

Because you’re still just the girl in the room who’s not supposed to feel anything.

You’re supposed to be invisible.

Professional.

Neutral.

But your smile is thinner now. Your replies quieter. And sometimes, when you laugh at one of his jokes because everyone else is laughing too, you catch him looking at you like he’s waiting for more.

Like he can feel it too—the distance that wasn’t there before.

But he doesn’t say anything about it.

He just keeps showing up, softer than he needs to be, kinder than you know how to accept.

And you keep pretending that it doesn’t affect you at all.

It Friday and guess what? You are doing over hours again. “at least its some extra money” you think to yourself.

Most of the staff have trickled out, but a handful of you are still in the studio, waiting for a delivery, finishing edits, or—if you’re Taehyung—sitting upside down on the couch, legs thrown over the backrest like it’s the most normal way to exist.

Jungkook’s nearby too, playing with a Rubik’s cube like it owes him money. You’ve barely spoken today—just your usual hello, a shared glance across the room when someone spilled coffee, the kind of silent acknowledgement that you’ve both become good at.

You’re typing notes into your laptop when Sana walks past, tossing a grin your way.

“She’s still working,” she calls out to the room. “Y/N wins Employee of the Month.”

Taehyung peeks over the couch. “Only because Jungkook’s not eligible. Too much favoritism.”

Jungkook makes a mock-wounded sound. “What? I’m a model coworker.”

Taehyung smirks and points his Rubik’s cube at you. “Nah, he’s just trying to stay on Y/N’s good side. Ever since she tamed the dragon.”

Someone snorts—maybe Sana. Maybe Hoseok, who just walked in with a snack.

You smile without looking up. “Right. He’s terrified of me. That’s why he brings me coffee. Classic fear response.”

Taehyung cackles. “See? You admit it!”

You glance up then, just in time to catch Jungkook watching you, that boyish grin already tugging at his lips.

He shakes his head. “You’re so dramatic.”

You flash him a crooked smile. “I’m just saying—if I had a fan club, I think you’d be president.”

“Wow.” He leans back in his chair, feigning offense. “Didn’t realize I was so obvious.”

You shrug, turning back to your screen. “That’s okay. I’m used to being everyone’s emotional support intern.”

More laughter.

The moment passes.

But when you sneak a glance at Jungkook again—he’s still smiling.

Still looking at you.

Like the cold air between you never existed.

And somehow, that smile stings worse than silence.

Your weekend passed too fast even though you were doing absolutely nothing just rotting in bed, watching bad movies while facetiming with Evi.  And now you’re in one of the conference rooms, folding over a stack of notes while your phone buzzes uselessly beside you. Another group rehearsal is happening a few floors up, but you weren’t asked to be there today. You tell yourself that’s a good thing.

You don’t really believe it.

“You okay?”

Seo-Jun’s voice cuts through the silence gently, like he’s already halfway sure you’re not.

You glance up. He’s leaning in the doorway with two coffees in hand.

You try for a smile. “Am I that obvious?”

He shrugs and walks in, offering you one of the cups. “Only when you stare at the same sticky note for five minutes straight.”

You accept the drink with a quiet “Thanks,” then nod toward his work badge. “Shouldn’t you be off being administrative somewhere?”

He grins. “Delegated. Perks of being useful.”

You laugh, just a little. He’s always been easy to talk to—funny without pushing, smart without showing off. He sits across from you now like he has all the time in the world.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you say after a beat.

“Uh-huh.” He sips his coffee, eyes still on you. “Fine with a capital not.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it.

He doesn’t push, just lets the silence stretch out, quiet and unthreatening.

Eventually, you sigh. “I’m just…a bit tired.”

“From what? Work?”

You shrug. “Everything. I don’t know. It has been a lot to process”

There’s a beat of quiet.

He nods like he understands anyway. “Well… maybe you should try not carrying all of it alone.”

You glance at him. He’s not joking. There’s a softness in his eyes, calm and steady.

You smile, small. “Was that supposed to be deep?”

He smirks. “Give me a break, I don’t do this kind of pep talk often.”

You shake your head, but the smile lingers a little longer this time.

Later that day, you’re in the break room with Sana and Mitsuki when the topic circles back, as it always does.

“He’s cute, you know,” Mitsuki says, nodding toward the hallway where Seo-Jun had just walked by.

You feign ignorance. “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Mitsuki nudges you with her shoulder against yours.

Sana nudges your side. “He’s been circling for weeks. He even offered to help you carry equipment last time. Voluntarily.”

You groan. “You’re both terrible. Hes just being nice. And it was heavy.” You try to defend it.

“Terrible and correct,” Sana says with a grin. “Look, maybe it’s okay to let someone be good to you.”

You don’t respond right away.

Mitsuki raises an eyebrow. “You always act like you’re waiting for some other shoe to drop.”

“I’m not,” you say. Too quick. Too defensive.

Sana gives you a look—soft, not judging. “No one’s asking you to fall headfirst. Just… don’t shut the door before it opens.”

You nod, but your stomach twists.

Not because of Seo-Jun.

But because you don’t know what it means to be open anymore. Or what version of yourself you’d even let someone get close to.

You don’t see Jungkook until the next day, when you’re walking out of a team meeting and Seo-Jun jokes quietly beside you about running off together to avoid editing deadlines. He says it loud enough to get a laugh—and you catch Jungkook just a few feet away, pausing mid-sentence with Taehyung.

His eyes flick to you. Then to Seo-Jun.

His smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

Later, Jimin is quieter than usual too. Especially when Seo-Jun shows up again with extra snacks “just in case you skipped lunch.”

You say thank you.

You see it in Jimin’s face—that flicker of something.

But no one says anything.

Not yet.

You’re walking alongside Seo-Jun after a team sync, arms full of folders and checklists. He’s making some ridiculous joke about running away to Bali with company funds and blaming it on a scheduling error. You roll your eyes, laughing, and nudge him with your elbow. He nudges you back, playful, easy.

It’s the kind of banter that’s harmless on the surface. But you feel the eyes on you the moment you round the corner.

Jungkook is standing near the door to the main rehearsal room, talking to Taehyung and someone from sound.

He’s mid-sentence when he sees you.

His gaze flicks down to the way your arm brushes Seo-Jun’s, then back up to your face. You’re still smiling when you meet his eyes—until you realize the smile isn’t mirrored.

Not fully.

Taehyung says something that makes Jungkook blink, refocus. He nods, laughs a little, but it’s off. Like a scene slightly out of sync.

You keep walking, heartbeat suddenly not where it belongs. Seo-Jun doesn’t seem to notice the shift in you.

But Jimin does.

Later that afternoon, you’re back in the editing suite sorting through a cluster of schedules when the door cracks open.

“Yo,” Jimin says, poking his head in. “Got a sec?”

You motion to the mess in front of you. “Technically, no. What’s up?”

He slips inside anyway and drops into the chair across from you. “Just hiding. Hobi’s making us do bonus choreography and I didn’t stretch today.”

You huff a laugh. “You didn’t stretch yesterday either.”

He grins. “Wow. So observant. Are you always watching me, Y/N?”

You blink, caught off guard.

He’s clearly teasing, but the words land awkwardly in your chest. You shift your focus back to your laptop. “You’re hard to miss.”

Jimin watches you for a second, the mood thinning just slightly. Then, without warning, he gestures to the pile of empty snack wrappers at your side.

“Are you and Seo-Jun, like… working late nights together or something?”

The question is too casual. His tone too carefully light.

You shrug. “He just shows up sometimes. He’s nice.”

“Mm,” Jimin hums, gaze flicking back to the hallway. “He’s also really there lately.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “Is that a problem?”

“Nope,” he says quickly. “Just… curious.”

The silence stretches.

You tap your pen against your notepad. “It’s not like that.”

Jimin looks at you for a moment longer—like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. Finally, he stands and stretches.

“Cool,” he says lightly. “Just checking.”

He leaves with a crooked smile that doesn’t feel quite right.

You stare at the door for a long while after it shuts.

You didn’t plan to stay this late.

Again.

The hall lights have gone into energy-saving mode, leaving a soft dimness that reflects the end of the day. Your monitor glows faintly through the half-open office door, and you rub your temples, exhaustion settling in behind your eyes like a weighted curtain.

There’s a light knock on the doorframe.

You glance up, a little startled.

Seo-Jun.

Holding two cups of something hot.

“I guessed wrong once already,” he says, holding both up. “This one’s tea, the other’s some kind of sugary latte situation.”

You blink. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says simply. “But your eye twitch was getting louder and it started to bother me.”

You huff a tired laugh and take the tea. “How observant of you.”

He shrugs, settling onto the edge of the desk next to yours. “I’ve got a good eye for overachievers on the edge of burnout. Especially the ones who pretend they’re fine when their voice gets all chirpy and fake.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That’s oddly specific.”

“You’re oddly easy to read, sometimes,” he says, not unkindly.

You glance back at your screen to avoid that look—the way his face softens when he talks to you like he knows there’s something hiding underneath all your composure.

For a minute, you sip your tea in silence.

Then he says, carefully, “You’ve been a little quiet lately. Quieter than usual.”

You hesitate. “I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

“About?”

You shrug. “Work. Life. The occasional existential spiral.”

“Any particular reason you don’t talk about it with the rest of them?”

You lift a brow. “Why, when I can trauma dump on you for free?”

He smirks. “Exactly.”

But then his tone shifts, just slightly. “I mean it though. I see the way they look at you sometimes. Like they’re trying to figure out where to place you. Like they still don’t know if you’re one of them or just… someone passing through.”

You feel something flicker in your chest.

He’s not wrong.

And the worst part is—you’re not sure either.

“Sometimes I don’t think they know what to do with me,” you admit. “Like I’m too involved to be uninvolved… but not really part of the circle either.”

Seo-Jun nods slowly, like he’s been waiting for you to say that.

“I know that feeling,” he says. “Floating somewhere in between. Close enough to hear everything, but far enough to pretend it doesn’t affect you.”

You glance at him, your defenses dipping just a little. “Is that why you’re nice to me?”

He grins. “No. I’m nice to you because you’re funny when you’re pretending not to be overwhelmed.”

You snort.

“And because I like your face,” he adds, more casually than you’re ready for.

You almost choke on your tea. “Okay. That’s enough honesty for tonight.

“Was it too much? Should I have texted it instead?” he teases.

You don’t know what to say. Your heart thumps awkwardly in your chest—caught off guard not by what he said, but how easy it felt coming from him.

And maybe that’s what scares you a little.

You glance at the time.

“You should go home.”

“You too.”

You both stand, but neither of you moves.

Then Seo-Jun says, quieter this time, “You don’t have to always be half-in, half-out. With anyone. Including me.”

You nod.

But you don’t promise anything.

The day drags on slower than you’d like, filled with meetings and fleeting moments where your attention drifts toward your phone. Between glances at the time and half-hearted attempts to concentrate on the project in front of you, the weight of reality starts to press down on your chest.

You don’t know when you started to dread the idea of returning to university after the internship ends. It should feel like a break—getting back to what was familiar—but somehow, the idea of leaving this behind doesn’t sit right. The longer you’re here, the more you wonder whether you belong with this group of people—or if you’re just in the way.

It’s not something you’ve shared with anyone, but the unease lingers quietly in your thoughts. You’re here. But not for long.

You let out a breath and turn your focus back to the group.

The boys are clustered around, a mixture of friendly banter and half-distracted comments as the team finishes setting up for another session. It’s chaotic in the best way, but something’s different today. As the conversation shifts and the focus drifts toward the work, you catch Jimin’s eyes across the room. He gives you a smile, a little brighter than usual, but there’s something else in it, too—something you can’t place.

Then, Seo-Jun enters the room, his usual confident gait making its way to the group of managers in the back. He waves at you, and instinctively, you wave back, a smile tugging at your lips as you exchange a quiet greeting.

You don’t see it immediately, but you sense the change. Jimin’s gaze sharpens, his attention switching between you and Seo-Jun in a way that makes your pulse pick up.

You ignore it, busying yourself with some notes, but you feel the tension shift in the room. Seo-Jun’s presence never fails to bring an ease to the space, yet today it feels like something else lingers—like the air is thickening with unspoken thoughts.

Jungkook, who’s been quiet all morning, suddenly clears his throat. “I didn’t know you two were so close,” he says, his tone casually off-handed.

You glance up, feeling something you can’t quite define. Jungkook isn’t looking at you—he’s still focused on whatever conversation he was having with Taehyung, but his words hang in the air, a little too pointed.

Seo-Jun chuckles, the sound easygoing. “We’re not that close,” he replies with a grin, but the look he gives you—almost teasing, light-hearted—makes your chest tighten.

Jimin, who had been smiling just moments ago, suddenly shifts. His expression darkens, just slightly, as he looks at you and Seo-Jun. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something you can’t decipher.

Jimin’s smile tightens, and he raises an eyebrow at you in a way that feels like he’s asking a question that you don’t have an answer to.

You’re caught in the middle, and for the first time, the weight of it feels heavier than it has before. They’re noticing you and Seo-Jun. The growing tension between you and the two boys has only escalated, and now, Seo-Jun’s casual proximity to you in the group feels like a spark in the room.

Jungkook, picking up on the shift, leans back in his chair, throwing a glance your way. “Don’t tell me, Y/N,” he teases, “someone already trying to steal my coffee buddy, too?”

You force a laugh, though it comes out a little more strained than you intended. “It’s not like that.”

It’s a deflection.

It’s always easier to hide behind humor.

Seo-Jun glances over at you, his grin softening. “No stealing involved.” he says, making sure his voice is light. But something about the way he’s looking at you—almost too knowingly—sends another ripple through the room.

The boys don’t let it drop, though. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his usual playfulness tinged with something sharper, and Jimin, ever the observant one, quietly observes.

“You sure about that?” Jimin’s voice carries a quiet edge, and you notice the way he’s looking at Seo-Jun, his expression unreadable.

Seo-Jun’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something passing between him and Jimin. It’s almost imperceptible, but you catch it—a quiet challenge, an unspoken question.

“Don’t worry, Jimin,” Seo-Jun says lightly, though his words feel heavier than they should. “We’re just having some tea and talking about work. Nothing to steal.”

Jimin watches him for a moment longer, and you can see the tension in his jaw. But he doesn’t say anything else.

You don’t know what’s happening—whether it’s just the stress of the day or the weight of all the things you’ve been carrying, but it suddenly feels like everyone’s watching you. Their eyes on you, but their minds somewhere else. The air’s too thick, the silence too loaded.

Seo-Jun doesn’t seem to notice it, and Jimin doesn’t address it further, but you’re painfully aware of how your presence in the group feels like it’s shifted, and maybe not in a way you can control.

It was finally the weekend.

After the whirlwind of awkward silences, confusing tension, and long days of tiptoeing around unspoken things at work, the neon lights and music felt like another universe. The girls had practically dragged you out of your apartment—and you were glad they did.

You weren’t sure what to wear. You’d stood in front of your mirror too long, trying on outfits you didn’t even care about, until Yoshi yelled through your door, “You look hot in anything! We’re late!”

Now, an hour in, you were letting yourself breathe for the first time in days.

The bar-turned-club pulsed with bass-heavy music and flickering strobes. Sana was already tipsy and dancing with someone she swore she didn’t like. Mitsuki was talking with a cute bartender, and Yoshi kept bouncing between the group and taking pictures of the night.

Seo-Jun stayed close.

Not hovering—but always within reach.

He was comfortable to lean on. A familiar, steady kind of presence in the chaos. You’d caught him glancing at you more than once, but he didn’t act on it. Just stood nearby with a lazy grin and a drink in hand, answering your sarcastic comments with his own dry humor.

“You okay?” he leaned in to ask, his voice almost drowned by the music.

“Yeah,” you shouted back, nodding. “I’m good.”

You wanted to be good.

So when a remix of an old song you loved started playing, you grabbed his hand for a second and spun toward the dance floor with a “Come on!” before letting go and disappearing into the crowd. He hesitated, watching with that unreadable look again, but didn’t follow.

You danced with Yoshi at the edge of the crowd. Song after song it was only hits, songs that you knew way to well. You danced with also the strangers around you sometimes singing with them and feeling yourself in this moment. And you loved doing this. Dancing.

Not for anyone, not for attention—just because your body finally felt light again. Like you could shake off the complicated week, the stares, the weird feeling in your chest every time one of the boys looked at you like they knew you too well—or not at all.

And then… you realized something.

You were alone. Somehow you had drifted into the crowed and Yoshi had vanished. Maybe she went to the toilet?

You turned slowly, blinking through the red and blue haze. Your friends were still on the other side of the dance floor, but now you were in a patch of strangers. Faces you didn’t recognize. Bodies too close.

That’s when it happened.

A hand touched your waist. Too low. Grabbing you in and pulling you close.

You flinched, turning, only for the guy to smile—drunk and overconfident.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said whispering in your ear, clearly not meaning it. His other hand moved like it wanted to find a place on your back.

You sidestepped pushing yourself away. “I’m good, thanks.”

He didn’t let go. Gripping now your arm.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. You’re out, right?”

You tried again to pull away, but his grip firmed. “Hey, I said—”

“She said she’s good.”

The voice cut through the music like a switchblade.

Familiar.

Low.

Commanding.

You froze, the guy startled enough to back off a step, and that’s when you saw him—Jungkook.

Sweat dampened the strands of hair stuck to his temple, his jaw clenched. Behind him, Taehyung had a drink in his hand and a frown on his face. Jimin stood close too, his eyes fixed on you, unreadable.

You didn’t understand.

They weren’t supposed to be here. Why would they be here?

The guy mumbled something and disappeared before any of them could say more. Jungkook didn’t chase. He turned to you instead, gaze running down your arms as if checking if he’d gotten too rough.

“You okay?” he asked, voice lower now. Less anger. More… shaken?

You nodded, barely.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure—”

“I said I’m fine.”

It came out sharper than you meant, the panic still fresh in your chest. You weren’t mad. You were just embarrassed. The adrenaline still hummed in your blood and now all three of them were watching you like you’d broken.

“I didn’t need a rescue,” you added, softer.

“No,” Jimin said from behind Jungkook, voice quiet, “but you got one anyway.”

You blinked.

It was only then you realized how close they all were.

The three of them.

Watching.

Hovering.

And suddenly, you felt more exposed than you had all night. The walls felt like closing in and suddently you couldn’t completely cacth your breath.

“Thanks,” you said quickly, stepping back. “But I’m fine now. I should get back.”

“To Seo-Jun?” Taehyung teased gently, but something in his tone hinted he wasn’t just joking.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked.

Jimin looked away.

You turned before you could unravel.

You blinked again.

Gone.

The boys were nowhere.

Where Jungkook had stood, there was only a flicker of shifting lights and unfamiliar faces. No Jimin. No Taehyung. It was as if the moment hadn’t happened—if not for the thrum still in your ribs and the way your fingers curled slightly at your sides, like they were still on edge.

You pressed your lips together and turned away away again

No one needed to know. Not Seo-Jun, not the girls. Not anyone.

You pushed your way back through the crowd, forcing yourself to walk like you hadn’t just been rattled. Like you weren’t fighting a war between embarrassment and something colder.

“Hey!” Yoshi waved you over as soon as she spotted you. “Where’d you go?”

You gave her a faint smile. “Just wandered off. I’m back.”

She passed you a half-finished drink. “Mitsuki left with that bartender.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Sana chimed in with a giggle, “She texted ‘Don’t wait up’ and a heart emoji. I think she’s fine, but you know. Classic Mitsuki.”

You nodded, pretending to laugh with them. But the night suddenly felt thinner. Less electric.

You glanced toward the bar where Seo-Jun stood talking to someone from another department. As if sensing your gaze, he looked over. His face shifted the second he saw you—shoulders straightening, mouth tightening a little.

He walked over, brushing his knuckles lightly against your arm. Which had you frowning and stepping away.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just over it. .”

“Want to go?” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to pressure you but wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You paused.

“I think I’ll just head out,” you murmured. “You don’t have to leave. Stay and have fun. I’ll be okay.”

He frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you going home alone.”

“I’ll take a taxi,” you said gently, cutting him off before he could insist again. “Seriously, Seo-Jun. I’m just not feeling it anymore.”

He hesitated, clearly torn. But you looked away before he could protest, already pulling your coat off the back of a chair.

You stepped outside a few minutes later, the air cool and damp against your skin. The noise of the club melted into a low hum behind you. You were halfway toward the curb when a voice behind you made your heart lurch.

“Hey.”

You turned, startled.

Jungkook.

He was standing a few feet away, hoodie up, his hands in his pockets. You hadn’t seen him come out, hadn’t even known he’d stayed.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

He smiled faintly. “Taehyung wanted to stay. I just needed air.”

You glanced toward the sky, then back at him. “Yeah. I get that.”

He took a step closer, but not too close. “About earlier…”

You shook your head quickly. “Don’t worry. It was nothing. Leave it be”

That made him pause, caught somewhere between a smile and something sadder. “That’s not what I—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted, gently but firmly.

Jungkook nodded. He looked down, scuffed the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk. “You’re not hurt, right? From the guy?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Silence. He keeps staring at you trying to see through whatever you were trying so hard to cover. His jaw tense and his face more serious than you have ever seen him.

You didn’t know what to say. Everything was so heavy suddenly. Like your body had already left the club, but your mind was still playing catch-up, trying to understand the strange looks, the timing, the strange ache in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“I should go,” you mumbled, stepping off the curb.

He nodded again, slow this time.

But just before you opened the taxi door, he spoke again.

“Y/N?”

You glanced over your shoulder.

“…I don’t like seeing you look at someone else like that.”

The words knocked something loose inside you, something small and quiet and stubborn.

He must be drunk and doesn’t even know what hes saying anymore.

You didn’t answer.

You just slipped inside the cab and shut the door.

chapter 4 - chapter 6

MASTERLIST

[lionboi68]

The Prince is Mine (Stolitz) - 14. (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1182784737-the-prince-is-mine-stolitz-14?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=billythebratkid&wp_originator=OR%2Bbk4z5X0q18IEajUAibGWa2nk34Vcg2DGRKFn332dS0yLG4B454BHltX2z0%2F%2Fx%2BGxyLv5vHqVEBP%2BpxbELO%2FW7BA3qW0seDA%2FJbJhQtieOXYRGnFE4DLj5zYWZZhQd After being shunned by his father about being a terrible criminal, Blitzø breaks into the palace and kidnaps Prince Stolas. Which not only proves his father wrong, but it makes him the most wanted imp in all of Hell. But what happens when the imp suddenly falls for the prince?

[mudhamster]

Updated! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

[sinkingtheship]

The Sunken Fallacy (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/341044915-the-sunken-fallacy?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=itisemsie&wp_originator=jD5FkT3aj%2B0bCodroCzr27ot1t8ZneuYmQ5XoQoWyjKvH8Oa1w0aOgP5SLb3OAoyFTOrffBSniqm2gR5QtWe4g38AOJPHUtRVROqB8qPUe8bJ%2BSQkiJl%2B%2B93aaq4Op%2FG It's 2008 and the only thing thing that brings Cynthia Thornton any interest in her life is her fascination with the ill-fated ship: The RMS Titanic, Too bad she has no one besides her family to ever express her interest. Yet one day, after another failed attempt at making friends, Cynthia finds herself 96 years into the past, boarding the ship in the body of her ancestor, a first-class passenger whose reasons for boarding are still a mystery to her. With no way of knowing how she can get back, Cynthia has only two goals in mind: Prevent the sinking, or save as many lives as possible.

[stargirl-writer]

PISTANTHROPHOBIA- BOOK 1 OF THE PHOBIA SERIES - Chapter Thirty-Four (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1476473626-pistanthrophobia-book-1-of-the-phobia-series?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Stargirl-Writer Simora James, a fiercely independent and cautious yet impulsive young woman, finds herself at odds with Miles Davidson, a seemingly laid-back and carefree boy who appears to glide through life without a care. Their initial encounters are marked by sharp exchanges and mutual disdain, each viewing the other as the embodiment of traits they despise. However, as circumstances force them into close proximity, Simora's guarded heart begins to see the depth beneath Miles' relaxed facade. Simora learns that his calm demeanor hides a well of strength and determination, while Miles discovers that her impulsiveness is driven by a passionate and caring spirit. Their journey from adversaries to lovers is fraught with tension, misunderstandings, and unexpected moments of vulnerability, ultimately revealing that they are more alike than they ever imagined, each complementing and challenging the other in ways they never thought possible.