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moonchild1 · 10 months

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min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)

she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

stalemate by @shina913 f s a

↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a

↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?

little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk

↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it?

sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk

↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

after hours by @archivedkookie f s a

↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.

Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a

↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a

↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a

↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.

collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj

↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.

grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs

↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”

isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a

↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk

↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)

mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s

↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.

pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a

↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity

naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj

↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.

babydoll by @jungcock s a

↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.

eleven months by @bratkook f s a

↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

darksided by @eoieopda f s a

↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.

three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs

↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too.

one-shot

bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s

↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?

breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s

↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a

↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj

↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.

under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a

↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj

↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.

the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a

↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

angel by @sailoryooons f s

↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences

a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f

↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

last nite by @tayegi s a

↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan

zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a

↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie?

heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a

↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

heavy sugar by @kinktae s

↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s

↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

calling the shots by @chans-room f

↬ College basketball captain Yoongi

until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a

↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan. When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.

whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a

↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.

shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s

↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.

you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a

↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ❞

spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a

↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.

all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a

↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a

↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

stay by sugarwithtea f s a

↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.

when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f

↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...

egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj

↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.

on the court by @centerhaechan f

↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.

sugar by @zehakoo f s

↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.

from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a

↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.

the dark by @/bratkook s

↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?

Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs

↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.

fermata by @jeongi f s

↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.

private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s

↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…

first love by @geniuslab f s a

↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.

↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library

3K notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 2 months

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Pulling At Your Heartstrings ~ JJk

⤜WORD COUNT: 2.8K

⤜PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: friends to lovers, angst, jungkook being a fucknig asshole, grovelling from him, happy ending,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Ever since you could remember it had always been you and Jungkook against the world, the two of you had been practically inseparable since you were kids and nothing could change that. Not even when you were hopelessly in love with him, not that you would ever tell him that.

No, you'd rather suffer in silence than ever have the chance of losing him. Which was why you suffered week in and week out watching as he found yet another woman to throw his life away with and that wasn't you being dramatic. Ever since the two of you were old enough to date there had been a sea of women coming and going in his life and it was even worse now.

Jungkook was now 27 and freshly single as of a month ago and you had to watch him get a new girlfriend, or date, every week, watching as he flirted with them in front of you or bought them along to hang out when it was just supposed to be the two of you. So you suffered in silence as he talked about being infatuated with the new girl of the week and it was slowly starting to take its toll on you.

Gone were the days when you could sit with him for hours and talk to each other, you felt tortured to have to listen to him ramble about his new date which was what had led you to tonight.

Your mutual friend -Hyunjin - was throwing a huge house party and had invited you and Jungkook, which of course the two of you had agreed to go to and now you were leant up against a wall talking to a guy you'd just met an hour ago who was really sweet.

The party was supposed to be something to help you find a new guy and it seemed to be working rather well. You figured it was enough time pining over your guy best friend who showed no interest and you were going to throw yourself into the deep end of the dating pool and start finding someone. Dating apps hadn't been the best experience but tonight was changing your view.

"So I told her I didn't want to come but she practically dragged me kicking and screaming," Will explained with a giant grin on his face. He was around 6'' and had a cheesy smile that made you just want to smile whenever he saw him doing it. Not to mention his laugh was infectious.

"At least you're having fun now, imagine if you hadn't come, you'd have missed out on..." Your eyes travelled around the room as you tried to think of something he would have missed had he not shown up tonight.

"Beer pong-"

"You." You both said at the same time, your body heating up at the sudden compliment from him and you smiled warmly at him, your eyes sparkling a little as you met his flirtious gaze. The two of you laughed softly, your hand landing on his arm as you threw your head back in a laugh.

The party around you was in full swing, music blasting and people mingling which was probably why you hadn't even noticed Jungkook watching you from the corner. Ever since he'd spotted Hyunjin walking you over to meet Will he'd not been able to take his eyes off you.

There was something different about you tonight but he had no idea what it was but it was driving him insane. You were wearing his favourite colour on you too which was sending him mixed signals all over his body and he could barely keep up with what his date was talking about or when she'd even started talking to him in the first place.

"Who is that?" He asked rather abruptly, staring at you as you giggled at something the guy said, actually giggled. The mere action had his blood boiling. He'd only ever seen you giggle like that at something he had said and there was no way the guy you were standing with was that funny.

"Oh, Will. He's new around, I think Hyunjin wanted to set the two of them up," His date said, clearly oblivious to the fact that Jungkook was quickly losing interest in her and only paying attention to you now and you hadn't even noticed. Usually, Jungkook could only look at you and know you would quickly find his eyes from across the room but now? Now it was like you didn't even care.

"Maybe we should go upstairs, I heard there's a nice balcony-" He didn't give her any more time to suggest where her mind was going as he shook his head,

"Not right now," Jungkook grumbled, standing up and making his way across the room as he watched you and Will standing together.

The unfamiliar guy, your laughter, the tightness in his chest overwhelming him almost immediately.

It hit him like a wave – he was jealous. He'd never felt this way before, and it was confusing and overwhelming. He'd always been happy for you and never questioned your friendship, but seeing you with someone else, someone who could potentially become more important to you, made him realize just how much he valued your connection. The thought of losing his special place in your life was unbearable. But it couldn't have been jealousy, he'd never been jealous in his love life and never with you.

The two of you had been best friends, he cheered you on through everything, even going through terrible dates when the two of you were in school but the knot currently in his stomach and the way his heart sank as he watched the two of you together, racked his world.

The jealousy felt almost alien to him, a dark shadow creeping into the corners of his heart where only warmth and camaraderie had existed before.

"I'll go and get us another drink," Will spoke to you, running his hand over the small of your back before disappearing into the kitchen giving Jungkook the perfect chance to catch you alone.

"I can't even believe you, Yn." His voice sounded agitated as you turned around to face him, expecting him to give you a hard time for not saying hi but there was something dark on his face.

"Throwing yourself at the first guy who gives you the tiniest bit of attention." The words shot through you like an arrow as you stared at him, wondering where all of this was suddenly coming from,

"What are you talking about? We were just talking." You laughed weakly, hoping this was some kind of sick joke to Jungkook but his face remained cold and distant as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Talking? Really? Because to me it looked a lot more than that. You were laughing at everything he said, touching his arm, you're being so....so easy!" The words were like a knife twisted itself inside of your chest and pulled out.

Never in a million years would you have expected him to have said that about you,

"Easy? Are you being serious right now? Since when was being friendly a crime?" You were starting to lose your cool as other people around you turned to look at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"It's not being friendly! You're practically falling over yourself for some random dude you just met!" You pulled Jungkook out of the party and into the garden not risking Will overhearing the way your supposed best friend was talking to you.

"Why does it even matter to you? He's a nice guy, and I enjoyed talking to him. What's wrong with that?" You scoffed, confused as to where all of this was even coming from, you leaned against the door as Jungkook paced around in front of you.

"What's wrong is that you deserve better than to act like some desperate girl who needs any guy's attention to feel good about herself!" You stare at him, your heart breaking as you hear what he thought of you. Clearly, tonight had been a good idea since this is what you needed in order to move on from him.

"Desperate? Is that what you think of me? That I'm desperate for attention?" Your voice cracked as you stared at him,

"Yes! That's exactly what I think! You're better than this, Yn, but you're acting like you have no self-respect!" He yelled at you finally losing his cool but you'd had enough as well, you'd met your breaking point.

"Enough, Jungkook! Enough! Just because I'm talking to someone else doesn't mean I'm "easy" or "desperate." It means I'm living my life, enjoying myself. You have no right to judge me or tell me how I should act around other people!"

"Yn, I-" He tried to speak but you held your hand up in front of him and shook your head.

"No, Jungkook! You don't get to make me feel small because you're feeling... whatever it is you're feeling! I waited, years to see if you would make a move on me and you did fucking nothing! So now I'm moving on you decide to try? No!" Fresh tears welled in your eyes but you didn't let them fall yet, you shook your head as you stared down Jungkook.

"If you can't handle seeing me happy or talking to other people, then that's your problem, not mine. I'm done with this conversation." You scoffed, throwing the door open.

"Yn, wait-" He called out but you shook your head,

"No. You need to figure out why you're really upset because this isn't about me. I'm not going to apologize for being myself." You finished before slamming the door behind you and going to find Will once again and apologise for leaving him behind.

Jungkook stared at the door, his emotions all over the place as he thought about you and everything you'd said. His mind finally caught up to him as he realised you'd half confessed to him while standing there.

All these years he'd only seen you as a friend were crumbling around him as he replayed all your memories together. The way your laughter would always brighten his day, even when nothing else could. How your eyes sparkled whenever you'd listen to how his day had gone and how you'd always felt like a home away from home for him.

It hit him like a tidal wave, the overwhelming and undeniable realisation that he was in love with you and about to lose the one person he'd loved his whole life. The one he'd been searching for in all of the women he'd been dating but had never seen until now.

And he'd fucked it all up.

It had almost been two weeks since the incident at the party and he'd done everything he could to try and get you to talk to him again but his efforts were proving to be fruitless. The flowers he sent to your apartment were always waiting outside whenever he went to check and the teddy he'd sent as an apology had been sent back and he'd been refunded. With every passing day, Jungkook just grew more desperate in his attempts and needed to see you.

Which was how you'd ended up in his apartment, panting heavily and holding up a first-aid box covered in sweat.

"You said it was an emergency!" You yelled seeing your best friend, who was in fact, completely fine and not at all bleeding through his hand like he told you he was on the phone.

"Please, I knew you wouldn't come otherwise!" He begged, standing in front of the front door to stop you from leaving. You stared at him, your arms folded across your chest,

"With good reason, you're a fucking asshole." You seethed at him, clearly still upset about the other night, not that he would ever blame you for it.

"I need to talk to you, please." He begged, taking a tentative step closer to you as you tried not to feel bad for him, He looked like he'd been crying, his appearance completely dishevelled and his eyes filled with regret.

"Don't you think you've said enough already?" You mumbled sarcastically as you remembered every word from the party and how could you forget? You ran through them every night before you closed your eyes.

"No, I haven't said what really matters," His voice was trembling as he looked at you, you raised your eyebrow at him not expecting him to have said that.

"And that is?"

"I'm so sorry, Yn. I'm so fucking sorry, I've been a complete idiot." He cried out as he dropped to his knees, your eyes widening as you stared down at him completely taken back by the scene in front of you.

"G-Get up, you're making a scene." You hissed even though it was just the two of you here but Jungook shook his head at you.

"I don’t care. I need you to know how much you mean to me. I’ve been so blind, so stupid. I took you for granted, and I said things I never should have. But the truth is, I’m in love with you, Yn. I’ve always been in love with you, and I was too scared to admit it, even to myself." The whole world seemed to stop around you as you processed what it was he'd just said to you, your eyes scanning his face for any sign that he was lying to you.

"You hurt me, y-you...you can't just say you're sorry and expect everything to be okay," You couldn't help the shake in your voice as you took a stand for yourself. As much as you'd longed to hear those words come from him there was no way you were going to accept what he'd done to you so easily. Jungkook reached out between you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it softly.

"I know. And I don’t expect that. But please, just give me a chance to make it right. I can’t imagine my life without you. Every day without you has been torture. I miss your laugh, your smile, the way you make everything better just by being there." Your heart was putty in his hands from everything he said but you were still wary of him.

"Why would I believe you?" You whispered,

"Because I’m standing here, on my knees, begging you. I’ll do anything, Yn. I’ll spend every day proving to you how much you mean to me. I’ll be the man you deserve. Just please, give me a chance." He begged but you stared down at him, tears running down your cheeks.

"Jungkook-"

"I will scream it from the rooftops, I'll get down in front of millions of people and beg for you to forgive me, please." He begged, your heart breaking the longer you watched him on his knees in front of you.

"You broke my heart," Your voice shook as tears slipped from your eyes, the dam finally breaking.

"And I’ll spend the rest of my life mending it if you let me. I love you, Yn. I need you. Please, don’t shut me out." You fell to your knees in front of him, your eyes staring into his as he stared back at you, even his eyes begged for your forgiveness.

"I can't forget everything that happened...everything you said that night-" Jungkook's hand squeezed yours tightly and he shook his head,

"I don’t expect you to. But let me show you that I’ve changed. Let me earn your trust back...Please," You wanted to believe him and you sighed a little.

"It's not going to be a quick fix," You reminded him as he pulled you into his arms, his legs resting on either side of your body as you leaned your head back on his chest your hearts racing against one another.

"I know that," He whispers, finally finding relief as he feels you against him.

"And I won't make it easy,"

"I'd expect nothing less from you," He smirks earning a small jab from your elbow before you turn to look him in the eyes, your heart hammering against your chest.

"I love you...and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out," He whispers, running his hand over your cheek and softly running his thumb along your bottom lip.

"I love you too." You whisper, your body naturally leaning into his touch as your eyes slowly flutter shut, your body melting against his touch and whimpering a little.

"I'm going to make this right," He promised.

And he did, every single day for a year until right now. The two of you were hosting a housewarming party at your shared home and almost everyone you knew was there, including Will who appeared to be happy for you.

"Is it bad I'm jealous he's here?" Jungkook chuckled as he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, a small whimper leaving your throat as you stared up at him.

"Maybe a little," You giggle, kissing his cheek as he pulls you tighter not willing to let you go just yet to play host.

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#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines

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taexual · 11 months

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sleepwalking ● 9 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

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

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, angst, SLOOOWW BUURNNN

words: 9.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 9 ► the silence is one thing that i’ll remember you said. well, it’s better than nothing when nothing’s all that you left

The next morning was warm.

It was such a stark contrast to last night that you couldn’t help but still feel phantom shivers on your skin when you got off the bus to stretch your legs. It was still two more hours to Oslo, and it was unreasonably early to be awake, considering you did not return to the bus until sunrise—a mere half an hour before the scheduled departure for Norway.

Everyone else was still asleep, which made sense: they must have returned to the bus sometime very late, too. Granted, when you and Jungkook reached the restaurant on Strandvägen yesterday, your team was no longer there—but that didn’t mean they went to sleep as soon as they returned.

To be fair, you hadn’t expected to find them at the restaurant anyway. But after the abrupt end of your conversation with Jungkook on the bridge, you had hoped for a distraction. Something to take your mind off the uncomfortable gaping hole inside you.

Jungkook had suggested last night that you take a taxi back to the tour bus, and you were almost ready to walk back on your own.

It confused you—this unexpected longing for something you dared not name—but it also frightened you. Therefore, you were glad that when the bus reached Oslo, Jungkook was still asleep.

You felt like you needed a minute—to convince yourself that whatever you thought you’d felt in the air last night was more wishful thinking than anything else. Because here’s the thing about wishful thinking: it was yours. And everything that was yours, you could extinguish. You could put it out like you’d done countless times before.

So, several hours later in Oslo, you gave Yoongi very strict instructions to keep the band close and make sure they rested before tomorrow’s performance. And then you took your girls to explore the city, sightsee and drink as much coffee as you could find.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, sightseeing was something he also wanted to do with you once you arrived in Oslo. He had a lot to tell you; he knew he owed you an explanation. He just wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened, let alone what hadn’t happened.

But when he woke up on the bus, you had already left, taking Maggie and Luna with you. So, not only did he have to wallow in his thoughts, but he also had to deal with a sulking Taehyung, who never openly admitted why he was sulking, but it was obvious enough. Even though he texted Luna all day, she wasn’t physically there with him, and that wasn’t enough.

Jungkook was annoyed. He should have seen this coming—he tended to sleep in while you tended to not—but he realised he had expected you to stay. He’d expected a reaction. Perhaps he’d hoped you would demand that he explained himself and why the two of you had gone from I-miss-you to let’s-walk-and-not-look-at-each-other.

Your reaction, however, was no reaction at all.

You and the girls went out, which for the three of you, meant getting ice cream and walking the city streets until you found something interesting. Sometimes this took up the whole day. You loved it—especially today.

But then, just as you were approaching what looked like a castle with crowds of tourists flocking to it—Luna discovered it was the Royal Palace, which should have been obvious, but you and Maggie still ooh-ed and ahh-ed at Luna’s Google Maps skills—your phone started to ring.

Licking your ice cream hurriedly so it wouldn’t melt completely while you talked, you walked away from the girls to take the call.

You were half-expecting an emergency, but before you could really be disappointed that you had to end your excursion, you noticed the unknown number on the screen of your phone. You briefly considered not answering, but you saw that the number had an area code from home.

You thought it might be your brother calling. Once again, you considered not answering, still angry at him for his recklessness and your mum’s tears. But responsibility won over, and you picked up.

On the other end of the line was a man asking for you. For a moment, you were confused, because the voice sounded familiar, but the owner of it didn’t seem to know who he was talking to.

“This is she,” you responded to your own name. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh, you sound so different for some reaso—it’s Nick,” the man said, and you stopped chewing on the waffle cone of your ice cream in surprise.

Nick Zhou had been your supervisor after you graduated and started to work at the company where you now managed Rated Riot. Back then, you were just an intern before being promoted to assistant manager for an indie rock band with the ominous name The Jungle Will Get You, when you were only 23 years old. Nick was their manager then, and he never admitted it, but you knew he’d pulled some strings to get you that job.

A little over a year later, you took over the management of Rated Riot, and you haven’t spoken to Nick since. He went on to manage Reconnaissance, one of the biggest alternative rock bands in the country, if not the world. Just being their manager made Nick more popular than Rated Riot at the moment.

You thought things had worked out well for you both, so there was simply no reason for you to stay in touch.

You figured the reason he was calling you now had to mean good things for Rated Riot. Supporting Reconnaissance on tour? Perhaps a collaboration?

“Nick!” was the first word out of your mouth after the surprise had subsided. “So nice to hear from you again.”

“I heard you were in Europe? That’s huge!” he said, which was kind of him, because Reconnaissance were selling out stadiums.

“We are, yeah. Oslo right now,” you said, smiling at Maggie, who approached you and tugged on your arm like a toddler wanting to go on a ride at an amusement park. Except in this case, the ‘ride’ was a wine bar down the street from the palace. You nodded, and that was permission enough for her to jog over to Luna and drag the two of you towards the bar, never mind that it was 3 PM. You said into the phone, “how are you? You’re going to Australia soon, right?”

“Next week, yeah,” Nick said. “The new album’s coming shortly after that.”

“Ah, another tour,” you said with a teasing chuckle—you knew how much Nick hated flying. Even the Reconnaissance members talked about their ‘air-sick manager’ in almost every interview they did. “Good luck in advance!”

Nick chortled in irony. “Thanks, I’m going to need it. That’s actually, uh, the reason I’m calling.”

Your heart rate picked up as the ice cream melted in your hand. “Yeah?”

“Yes. See, we had some—er, situations,” he paused here as if searching for a better word. After he didn’t find one, he continued with the one he had picked, “and because of these situations, I’m putting together a new team. With the new album coming out soon, we’re on a really tight schedule.”

“Right,” you said. You could already hear him asking if Rated Riot would like to be the supporting act, and maybe even participate in Reconnaissance’s new album.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling you,” he said. “The management here is just me and this guy, Mark, who can’t dial a phone number to save his life, but he’s a great sport. Keeps the band alive. But I need more people. Preferably someone with, uh, experience.”

He paused meaningfully, but it still took you a minute to realise that he hadn’t contacted you about Rated Riot. He had contacted you about you.

You watched Maggie and Luna enter the wine bar, take your ice cream from you, and make a beeline for the cash register, all while you stood in the doorway.

“I’m—uh—Nick.” There was an uncomfortable lump of surprise in your throat. Your hands felt sticky and your mouth felt dry. “I’m—I manage Rated Riot.”

“I know,” he said, “and they’re a very promising band, tons of potential,” he paused here, hesitating, “but I thought—well, this is sort of different, isn’t it?”

You would have scoffed if you weren’t so stunned. “Well, of course.”

“Yeah. So, I just—we need an assistant manager. Fast,” Nick said. “And you were the first person I thought of. I mean, we’ve worked together before. I know your strengths and I admire your work ethic. I think you’d be a great addition to our team.”

Overwhelmed, you barely managed to find your words. “I… appreciate the offer. But I don’t think I can just—”

“Think about it, okay?” he interrupted you, aware of the abruptness and sheer mass of this offer. “We’ll be back from Australia next month, so you don’t need to give me an answer right away. Just—the sooner the better, of course. But you can think about it. I just wanted to let you know that I have an opening, and I’d love it if you joined us.”

“I—okay.” The faint smell of grapes and old wood around the wine bar seemed to grow stronger the longer that you stood here, still frozen. “Thank you, Nick.”

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said. “Take care, yeah?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, you too. Thanks again.”

The three beeps after he ended the call reverberated in your head, and it was another half-minute before you moved the phone from your ear. You looked at it in disbelief, as if it had been someone else who’d just had this conversation, and you had merely overheard it.

In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to simplify your loud thoughts into whispers of an adequate noise.

There was an opening to be Reconnaissance’s assistant manager.

You’d have to take a step back, do more mundane tasks, similar to the ones you did back when you were Nick’s assistant that first time. But if you said yes, you’d be working with one of the biggest bands in the world right now.

But you couldn’t leave Rated Riot. You were their manager. You believed in them, and you loved everyone on this team.

“You look like you just found out Santa isn’t real,” Maggie’s voice brought you back to the present. She had come to get you, so you’d stop blocking the entrance for others. “Who was that?”

You still felt very hot and half-choked, so you tried to loosen the collar of your white tank top. The denim jacket you wore over it didn’t help much with the heat inside of you, either.

“Um,” you looked around as you slipped out of your jacket. “Can we get some wine first?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

You nodded, and before you could give a verbal response, Maggie was already calling out to your friend, who was about to place her order, “Luna! Grab some doubles! We have something going on.”

It took the girls about two minutes to find a table—granted, a couple of tourists who saw Maggie dragging you through the wine bar while you were trying to regain proper consciousness got scared and left, which helped a lot—and settle down.

As soon as you took the first sip, catching the rich and savoury taste—perhaps a bit too savoury; it immediately made you scrunch your nose—Luna scooted closer to you on the navy-coloured velvet couch.

“What happened?” she asked. “Who was that on the phone?”

You set your glass down. “That was Nick. My former supervisor. Before I started to work with Rated Riot. He, um—he manages Reconnaissance.”

“Oh, shit!” Maggie exclaimed at the same time as Luna muttered, “I don’t really know them.”

“Oh!” Maggie gasped, turning to Luna. “Wait. Weren’t you at their show a few days ago? I saw on your Instagram.”

“Yeah, Taehyung took me. He brought me to the after-party, too, but—” she paused as she noticed that Maggie’s eyes looked ready to pop out. She explained, “oh, that was just to babysit Jungkook. He’s the one who really listens to Reconnaissance. I don’t know any of their songs. They sounded good, but I’m—”

“Oh my God!” Maggie gasped again. She had glitter in her eyes and all over her face. “Wait until we get back on the bus! I probably have five different notebooks full of their song lyrics. You’ll love them.”

Luna nodded her head once, then paused in the middle of the second nod. “Wait, you brought those notebooks on tour? Aren’t they heavy?”

“Kind of. But I like to have them with me. And I keep adding to them, so—” Maggie stopped when you picked up your glass again. Your movement seemed to remind her what the topic was before she digressed. She leaned back in her bright yellow armchair. “—which is not the point. So, what did that guy want? Nick.”

Both girls turned their attention back to you.

You took another sip of your wine and said, “well, I thought he wanted Rated Riot.”

Swirling her glass, Luna asked, “he didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “Apparently, he wants me.”

Luna was the first to understand the implication as her eyebrows lifted and her chin dropped. Maggie, on the other hand, looked at Luna, and then back at you.

“Like… to work with him?” she asked. “To manage Reconnaissance?”

“Well, obviously not to perform with them on stage,” Luna said to her impatiently, then turned back to you. “Why does he want you?”

“He said he needed to find an assistant manager quickly,” you explained, “and since he knows me, he thought I’d be... suitable. For that job.”

You didn’t know what words to choose so you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable talking about this. And, as you sat here with your friends and your glass of wine, you realised that a part of you didn’t believe you were even ready to work with someone like Reconnaissance. For the most part, you were terrified of it.

You hoped Rated Riot would reach their level one day, that’s true. But starting to work with a band that was already so outrageously popular felt a bit like being thrown into a pot of boiling water.

“Well, what did you say?” Maggie asked.

“I said no,” you replied, your vision blurring again. “I think.”

The two girls spoke up at the same time.

Luna repeated, “you think?” while Maggie asked, “why not?”

They exchanged a look – Maggie, surprised; Luna, slightly accusing.

“What?” Maggie said in response to her look. “This is big!” She put down her glass and leaned over to touch your knee, wanting to emphasise her point, “I love you, okay? And I love working with you and everyone else here, and I know you do, too. But this is just… huge.”

“I know,” you said, your gaze still wandering along the tiled wall behind Maggie’s armchair. You felt disoriented and the wine had very little to do with it. “But I—I mean, I can’t just leave.”

“I think you should talk to the guys,” Luna suggested. She managed to come to terms with the heaviness of the offer that Nick had made much faster than you did. It helped, of course, that she wasn’t the one who had to make a decision here, but she was making a reasonable point regardless.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed, pointing at the girl on the couch next to you, and nodding eagerly at you. “Yeah. You should.”

You looked at both of them, then down at your glass, as if you could take a sip and it’d give you very clear directions of what to do next.

“But what can I say to them?” you asked. Then, in a voice meaning to imitate yourself, you said, “‘I might have an opportunity to leave you and work with a much bigger band.’ No. No, I don’t think so.”

Maggie squinted at you, unsure if she was the only one confused again. She asked carefully, “you… don’t think you’ll tell them this? Or you don’t think you’ll work with Reconnaissance?”

You finished your wine and set the glass back on the tray. The other girls’ glasses were still half-full.

“Neither, probably,” you replied. “I’d be—you know. If I went to work with Nick, I’d be fetching coffee for the other staff members and filling out paperwork. I already do that for Rated Riot anyway, but I don’t mind, because I don’t think we’re at a level where I’d need an assistant. But I—I want to reach that level with them. I want to be here every step of the way.”

If you’d lifted your eyes from the table in front of you, you would have seen the soft smile on Luna’s face. Instead, you heard it in her voice when she said, “that makes sense.”

Finally, you looked at her. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, I think you should sleep on it,” Maggie said, a different voice of reason. “Make sure this isn’t something you’ll regret later. Oh!” she clapped her hands. “You can even make a pros and cons list!”

You smiled while Luna snickered. She said to you, “pro: obviously, you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend—”

“Um?” Maggie cut in. “Con: you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend.”

Luna frowned at her. “How is that a con?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Have you seen her ex-boyfriend?”

Luna’s frown dissipated as she laughed, and even you chuckled, too.

In her whole life, Maggie might have had one and a half doubts about not actually being gay; she was simply an artist to the core. And she was very vocal about how unbelievably easy it was to photograph Jungkook when he was on stage. He was, in a truly annoying way, effortlessly photogenic.

“I guess that’s a pro and a con,” you said. There was a lingering smile on your face—this time, the wine did have something to do with it.

When paired with the sudden anxiety of Nick’s offer, the wine helped you distance yourself from the last conversation you’d had with Jungkook. And maybe it was better, you decided, that your friends didn’t know about the walk you two had taken. You preferred the conversation as it was now — cosy, safe, and almost buoyant.

“Is there a time limit?” Luna asked suddenly. “Did Nick tell you a date?”

“No,” you said with a sigh. “He said he wanted an answer soon. So I don’t have to decide right this second. But I’m not really considering it, to be honest. It’s a great opportunity, sure, but I think working with Rated Riot is a great opportunity, too.”

Both girls nodded in unison, their expressions brightening. Slowly, as you felt the support in their warm gazes, the atmosphere in the wine bar began to lighten, too. They understood. And they agreed with your point.

Luna teased, “does the band pay you extra when you say nice things about them? Because I really love Rated Riot.”

You chuckled. “I wish they did.”

Maggie lifted her glass. “Be careful. If you start complimenting them to their faces, it’ll go straight to their heads. And then we’ll have to give their shows an R rating.”

“Well, that would help them live up to their name,” Luna pointed out and the three of you burst into a fit of giggles again—partially because of the wine, but in your case also because of relief.

Nick’s offer and the confusing feelings from last night did not seem all that troublesome at the moment. You could almost forget about them, focusing only on the way things were right now.

You were happy like this. You didn’t want anything to change.

As dusk fell, Jungkook began to hover his finger over your name in his contact list. Just then, Sid burst into the otherwise empty bus and slammed the door with so much force that the whole vehicle swayed a little.

Startled, Jungkook looked up.

“Dude!” he called out, poking his head out of his bunk to see his friend’s proud face. “Gentle.”

“I have the best plans for us tonight,” Sid said as if he hadn’t heard him. “You will not believe the kind of bars they have here in Norway.”

Although Jungkook doubted that the bars here were any different from the ones back home, he still climbed out of the bunk, more intrigued by the idea of having company than by the supposed uniqueness of Norwegian bars. “Yeah?”

Sid’s smile grew wider still when he saw the same reaction mirrored on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Let’s go.”

Jungkook hesitated. He had told you last night that things wouldn’t be the same between him and Sid when they returned home. And he meant it; he would have preferred to spend time with you—right now and back home. But you weren’t here, and while he was waiting for you, everyone else made different plans. Even Taehyung. And Jungkook hated being alone.

Grabbing his jacket, he climbed out of the bunk and allowed Sid to lead him outside, where the rest of their friends were already waiting.

They were like a herd of sheep, Jungkook thought unexpectedly while Sid ushered him out of the bus, the way they followed Sid. Why didn’t they ever protest or suggest their own ideas?

But as he looked at his friends – Jude and Minjun fighting over something on Jude’s phone, shoving the device in each other’s faces and shouting; Sid smacking them both on the backs of their heads, providing his own wisdom to their argument – he knew.

They stayed quiet, because the four of them were always together in the same way: with Sid in the lead, and the others following behind him. That’s the way it has always been. Jungkook knew that if one of them had a genuine problem with this, he would not be taken seriously. Or it would be the last time he could call them friends.

It was either this, or nothing at all.

That night, the four of them ended up in a cocktail bar in Oslo, a significant distance away from the tour bus and the rest of the crew. Jungkook didn’t understand why Sid had chosen this particular place until his friend winked and gestured towards the stairs leading to the basement.

“What’s down there?” Jungkook was dumb enough to ask.

Grateful for the chance to show off, Sid grinned and draped an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders as he led him—along with Jude and Minjun, who were looking around like this was a zoo—to the basement.

“Only the greatest thing to come out of Europe,” Sid explained. “You can thank me later.”

He didn’t.

It was an underground burlesque club with only three dancers, all of whom appeared so intimidating that Jungkook was convinced they could stab the four of them with their nails alone, if any of the boys looked them in the eye for too long. He didn’t dare to try.

Sid loved it.

Jungkook preferred the bar upstairs.

Minjun seemed to agree, so the two went back up for another round, while Jude stayed back. Despite occasionally acting like he hated Sid’s guts, Jude always stayed close to him, almost like an addict, who knew that this drug was bad for him, but still couldn’t break the habit.

“Do you think they’ll make it out alive?” Minjun asked as they waited for their drinks at the bar.

“I don’t think they’re getting out at all,” Jungkook replied. “It’s like siren screams for Sid.”

“That’s true. And if Sid stays, Jude stays.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression grim.

“So, D-11,” Minjun said. It took Jungkook a second to realise that he was counting down the days to the end of the bet. “How’s it going?”

He gave his friend a look. “I’m in a bar with you. How do you think it’s going?”

Minjun smiled and nodded to the bartender to thank him for bringing the drinks. Then he held his glass out to Jungkook.

“A toast,” he declared. Jungkook rolled his eyes and picked up his own glass. “May you win this bet, because Sid on a motorcycle is a menace I want nothing to do with.”

Snorting, Jungkook clinked his glass against his and they both downed their drinks in several big gulps.

“He’s not getting the bike,” Jungkook said, setting his glass down with new-found determination. Hearing Minjun mention the possibility of Sid winning the Katana made it feel more realistic. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Do you need my help?” Minjun asked as if reading his mind.

Jungkook looked up from the bar top. “You couldn’t help even if I asked. We signed an agreement that we wouldn’t tell her.”

“You and Sid signed it,” Minjun pointed out. “I was just the person who typed it all out in my fucking Notes. I’m not legally bound to abide by the conditions of the deal. And, actually, neither are you. It’s just a—”

“Why would you help me?” Jungkook interrupted. His friend’s final sentences had evidently flown over his head. “I’ve hardly got anything to offer you in return.”

Minjun shrugged. “I just don’t want Sid to win.”

Jungkook swallowed. He found himself hoping, suddenly, that there was more to this. That if he really kicked Sid off the tour and out of his life, there would at least be one person who wouldn’t leave with him. One person who would stay.

“I don’t know what you could do,” Jungkook said. “Putting in a good word for me probably wouldn’t do much.”

“No?” his friend said, then looked down at his glass thoughtfully. “Okay. We can go full mentalist on her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dropping certain objects in her living space that leave imprints of you in her subconscious,” Minjun said completely seriously. “It’s simple.”

“Dude.” Jungkook blinked. “I don’t know where this—this Sherlockian shit is coming from, but I’m not going to mess with her head.”

Minjun was about to scoff, but held back because the offence on Jungkook’s face at the—apparently, preposterous—suggestion seemed genuine. As if Minjun didn’t know what he was saying. As if this was serious, and Jungkook didn’t want to ruin it by playing games.

Minjun pointed out, “but you already are messing with her head.”

If possible, Jungkook looked even more appalled. “I’m—that’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what’s the difference between what you’re doing and what I’m suggesting?”

“Well, I’m not trying to—I’m not sneaking around and forcing her to think about me,” Jungkook said, looking away from his friend and meeting the bartender’s gaze. He nodded, and the man behind the bar approached the two friends with a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s not force, technically,” Minjun explained as they watched the bartender refill their drinks. “It’s just how your brain works. You see something that reminds you of someone, and it sticks with you whether you’re aware of it or not.”

“I’d like for that to happen naturally,” Jungkook said, aware that he was the naïve one here. But he liked to think of it as hope. And he had that right—he was the only one who really knew you. The only one who could guess whether you were thinking about him or not.

Minjun shrugged and picked up his glass as soon as it was filled. “It’s your call. I’m just trying to speed up the process.”

Jungkook brought his own drink to his lips, but paused when Minjun spoke up again.

“Let me ask you something, though,” he said. “Before you get too far ahead of yourself.”

Even before he heard the question, Jungkook already felt queasy. “What is it?”

“Do you genuinely want to get back together with her?” Minjun asked.

There seemed to be no ill intentions behind the question, but Jungkook spent a full minute watching him and reading his expression.

Minjun was quick to notice his uncertainty. He reassured, “I’m asking because I care. Not because I want to make fun of you. I know you love her, but this—well, I’m just wondering if you want to act on these feelings.”

Jungkook looked down again. “Yeah, uh, I do. It’s not just about the bet for me.”

Minjun had suspected as much, so he wanted to broach the subject when no one else was around.

“But you still think making a bet out of it is the way to go?” he inquired.

Jungkook knew where this was going. And he still tried to appear nonchalant.

“I mean, I’m in this mess anyway, so why not actually win this?” he replied with a laid-back shrug that was so laid-back, it only amplified the fact that it was not laid-back at all.

“Jungkook,” Minjun said, startling him. Normally, the four of them addressed each other as ‘dude’ or the occasional ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’. Hearing his name felt strange, almost foreboding.

“There’s so many reasons why not,” Minjun continued. “The most important one being that you come out of this as a winner twice. You get her and you get the bike. But all she gets is the realisation that someone she’s letting back into her life has lied to her.”

Defensively, Jungkook demanded, “when did I lie?”

“You’re getting back together with her because of the bet!”

“It’s not because of—it’s not just because of the bet. I just told you.”

“But she doesn’t know about it,” Minjun countered, poking holes in Jungkook’s feeble defensive shield. It was more like a flimsy piece of paper than a shield, really; just something he’d hoped to fool himself—and you—into believing. “She doesn’t know what else is at stake. It’s not fair.”

“Okay,” Jungkook turned in his seat to face Minjun, leaning his elbow against the bar top. “What are you trying to tell me? That I should lose the bet on purpose? To show her that I care about her more than anything else?”

“No,” Minjun replied, less confident. Jungkook was likely not aware of this, but he could be very intimidating. For Minjun, who considered himself immune to most forms of intimidation after years of being friends with Sid, this was unusual and unsettling. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m just suggesting you think about it. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry.

He knew that he had already drawn a subconscious line between simply wanting you back and wanting you back to win the bet. He worried about the exact thing that Minjun had just mentioned—that he couldn’t have both. He worried that it wouldn’t be fair to be with you again if he won.

This was what stopped him on the bridge. It’s what haunted his mind every time he thought about talking to you.

Deep down, he knew he would have to make a choice: either he won the bet, or he got back together with you.

And yet, he couldn’t let Sid win. The thought pressed on his mind with so much weight that he knew it wasn’t just you that he didn’t want to lose, and it definitely wasn’t just his bike. It was a matter of pride, too.

He was proving a point for all the years that Sid had asserted his superiority over him.

“You know, that never made any sense to me,” Jungkook said. Alcohol helped him feel more confident and less self-conscious. Maybe he should stay tipsy until the end of the bet. “That’s the whole point of the cake. You get it, and it’s not just there to fucking look at. It’s there to be eaten.”

Minjun could tell Jungkook felt defensive, so he didn’t take the aggression personally. Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

“Whatever, man,” he said. “It’s your life, in the end.”

“Yeah. It is,” Jungkook replied so firmly that it just sounded childish. He tried to soften his tone, “I appreciate yo—your concern, but I got this.”

“Okay,” his friend agreed because that was easier. They could have been at it for hours—and God knows, Jungkook and Sid had been at it for hours—but Minjun didn’t think it was worth it. He concluded, “that’s fine.”

“It is,” Jungkook agreed.

But it was clear that it wasn’t fine. Jungkook looked flushed as if he’d bathed in a barrel of whiskey, not merely drank two glasses of it.

After about half an hour, the silence became heavy. At first, Minjun had thought that he would rather throw himself down the stairs than return to the basement where Sid and Jude were. But now that seemed like a better alternative than sitting here with a sulking Jungkook.

“You know, uh, I think I’m going to go check on Sid and Jude,” he said while Jungkook ordered another—his fifth—glass. “Don’t want them to die in Oslo. Too big of a hassle to bring their bodies back home.”

Jungkook’s lip did not even twitch. But he nodded and Minjun slid off his chair. He glanced back at his friend as he went, not wanting to leave him alone, but also feeling like Jungkook was already alone anyway, even with him here.

Jungkook had always been good at isolating himself, even when surrounded by other people. Honestly, Minjun wasn’t sure if Jungkook even realised that he wasn’t sitting at the bar alone. He told Minjun once that he couldn’t stand silence, but Minjun knew that sometimes, Jungkook’s thoughts overwhelmed him without his consent. And once he got lost in his own mind, the rest of the world ceased to exist for him.

However, now that he was truly alone, Jungkook was struck by the heavy weight of his solitude. He would have agreed with Minjun – he really did have a monumental talent for disassociating anywhere, anytime. But to be able to drift off into his thoughts and turn the crowd into a blur, he needed a crowd in the first place.

Now that he was alone, all he could think about was that he was alone.

He certainly wasn’t going to follow his friends into the basement, so he got a few more drinks into his system for courage, and pulled his phone out—a painful reflex—to dial your number.

Needless to say, by the time you answered—it was 1 AM, but, of course, you answered—he was already slurring his words as he tried to explain why he’d called.

“Are you drunk?” was your first question as soon as you heard him try to introduce himself—pointlessly so, because at that point in your life, he was the only person who called you after midnight.

“Of course,” he said, with hints of offence in his voice. Why would he not be drunk? he rationalised. “Do you want to come?”

He heard shuffling on the other end as he played with the napkin on the bar top. Funnily enough, despite his mind feeling pleasantly numb, he still felt twinges of anxiety in his stomach.

“Where even are you?” you finally asked. He was too drunk to notice the coldness in your voice.

“Sid took us to some bar,” he replied. “In Oslo.”

While you were relieved that Sid hadn’t driven them out of Norway before Jungkook even performed here, you also felt concerned that Jungkook was so disoriented that he needed to remind you of the city you were in.

“Are the rest of the guys there?” you asked. His friends were useless, of course, but perhaps Minjun could be trusted to take care of Jungkook if he blacked out.

“They’re downstairs,” he answered. “There’s some club. I didn’t want to go, so I called you. Do you want to come?”

You were confused by the repeated question—was this a matter of you wanting to come, or were you obligated to come as his manager?

He sensed your apprehension through the phone despite being intoxicated.

“I’m trying to see you,” he explained, his tongue struggling to bend the right way. All his Rs sounded like sloppy Ls and Ws. “You weren’t there when I looked for you earlier today.” You heard a bang – he’d slammed his palm against the bar top, forcing the nearby glasses to rattle – and he continued, whining now, “why are you so difficult for me to find?!”

“You’re drunk,” you stated in response. “And you’re not making any sense. Can you find your way to the bus, or do I have to pick you up?”

Half-mumbling, half-whining something incoherent, Jungkook leaned his arms on the bar top. He rested his head on them and pressed his phone against his ear harder as if that’d make you understand him better, make you enter his head somehow.

“You should come,” he said. “I’ll order for you.”

“How about you tell me exactly where you are first,” you replied.

He did – to the best of his ability in his current state – but Google Maps could hardly help you find the directions for “then we took two left turns and came up in front of his huge red brick building, might have been brown, I’m really drunk.” Finally, you managed to get him to just send you his pinned location and headed over there.

He stayed on his phone after you hung up, opening the Notes app and scrolling through his older notes to pass the time.

Some of them were lists of things he wanted to remember – films to see, songs to listen to – while others were harder to decipher: drunken reminders he had made for himself and forgotten as soon as he sobered up.

Some of the notes were song lyrics, and some were just your name—he’d begun to type out a message? a letter? and abandoned it, scared of the weight your name alone carried—and his finger lingered on those for a minute before he pressed the New Note button and began typing immediately.

Normally, he didn’t write lyrics when he was drunk. Tipsy, maybe—one of Rated Riot’s most popular singles was born after he and Yoongi tried absinthe for the first time at one of the label’s parties last year—but never so drunk that the room felt wobbly.

He kept pressing the wrong buttons on the keyboard and autocorrect kept making it worse; shocking even his drunk mind with how completely wrong the corrections were.

But he managed to get two full lines – I fucking miss you when I drink / You burn my throat when I sing – and he stared at them for a minute, a deep frown on his face.

He hated it. Deleting the words with angry force on the backspace button, he began typing again, feeling furiously alone with every passing minute that you didn’t come—and knowing that when you did come, you would be you. And he couldn’t love you the way he did.

For years, even when he thought—hoped—that the feelings he had for you were not real, even as he insisted to his friends that he couldn’t possibly still love you, even as he tried to meet someone new despite only seeing faint echoes of your absence on every face, even then he wrote about you each time that his mind wandered.

You continued to be the subject of his music, the lyrical lover in every song he wrote.

Now, as he entered line after line, the lyrics writing themselves as he watched the screen, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest—as drunk as his mind was.

When the absence of you is all that inspires / I allow for the pain to turn into fires / It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing / Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink

He held his phone with one hand as he folded and unfolded a napkin with the other one, reading the words and then re-reading them again.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He needed Namjoon to take a look at this—the producer knew better—before he could show it to anyone else. Especially before he sent it to—

Jungkook jumped up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and his vision seemed to brighten when he recognised you.

“I came as quickly as I could,” you said, out of breath as if you had run all the way here. You took a seat on the stool next to him at the bar, using his shoulder to steady yourself as you climbed onto it. “Where’s your tail?”

Even drunk, he understood you meant his friends.

“Downstairs,” he said, nodding his head towards the door leading to the staircase in the back. “Drinks?”

You assessed him. He didn’t appear to be in need of having his stomach pumped, but he was slouched over the bar, tightly clutching his phone in his hand, which was a good indicator that the night should have ended there.

“I think it’d be better to—”

“Strawberry daiquiri,” he said loudly—to the bartender, but it took you a second to realise that—then he turned to you for confirmation. “Right?”

“I’m not drinking,” you replied firmly enough for him to give you a long look.

“Why not?” he asked. The bartender politely waited for your consent before he started to make the cocktail. “You’re not driving.”

You swallowed. There were many – countless, really – reasons why not. You were confused about yesterday, confused about Nick’s offer, confused about what you were doing here tonight.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even, and very out of character for someone like you. You knew you shouldn’t dive head first into this, not after what happened—what didn’t happen—yesterday.

But you gave the bartender a light nod.

“One drink,” you said. “And we’re going back.”

But, of course, going back is not at all what you did.

Jungkook, his highball, your daiquiri, and you all found yourselves on the empty terrace on the roof not ten minutes later.

It was a relatively warm night, but it was the empty space, the dark night and the faint scent of rain that captivated you more than the warmth. It was so beautiful here; very hard not to be grateful to be alive on a night like this. And you realised you didn’t blame Jungkook for making you come here, after all.

“What were you doing before I came?” you spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the night.

Jungkook took a sip from his glass and placed it on the small round table between your patio chairs.

“Writing,” he said.

You were surprised. “Writing?”

“Yeah.”

“As in, song lyrics?”

“Yeah,” he repeated. Then—his mind travelling a thousand miles per hour—he added, “you know, I wrote “Haunting” about you.”

Weirdly enough, while alcohol made most people sleepy or, at least slower, it seemed to ignite Jungkook’s mind instead. He wanted to see your reaction when he said this. Wanted, even drunk, to see if there was a reason for him to worry.

Meanwhile, you needed a moment to process what he’d just said and, even then, you weren’t entirely sure if you understood him.

“I—you did?” you stumbled, awkward.

“Yes.”

You looked away, the song fresh in your mind, because it wasn’t just the first Rated Riot song that you’d heard. It was also one of your favourites. You loved the ethereal melody—a strong focus on piano, the guitars reduced to the background and the bass only joining in on the chorus—and Jungkook’s raw vocals as he sang about resisting his dark urges.

You knew all of Rated Riot’s lyrics—hearing their songs every night paid off, but you’d have been lying if you said you didn’t like to listen to them in your free time as well—but it was the first verse and, particularly, the breathy, pained voice with which Jungkook sang it that always tugged at your heart:

It's wandering in my mind / It's haunting my daydreams / I follow after it, blind / I fall apart at the seams

After a minute, you finally spoke—awkward as you explained the meaning of his own lyrics to him, “I always thought it was about… well, searching for thrills even though that’s not good for you.”

“It is,” Jungkook said. “The beginning is. But the chorus is about you.”

Before you could ask anything else, he mouthed the lyrics under his breath so quietly that you were unsure if you weren’t only imagining him singing it since you’d listened to the song so many times before.

Can I find you when I break? / Can I find you when it’s too much? / Can you forgive all my mistakes? / Can you save me with your touch?

Jungkook had written plenty of songs on his own, but from what you’d heard in the studio, his lyrics used to be too abstract. That was the main reason why Namjoon used to scold him.

“It lacks feeling!” he’d shout, agitated by his own expectations for the vocalist. “It’s like you’re singing about a bag of bricks!”

You knew that many of Jungkook’s early songs didn’t have a specific subject in mind. In this particular case, you assumed he was singing about someone—anyone, really—extending a helping hand or providing a shoulder to lean on. It was a comforting song, nothing more than that.

Jungkook was almost grateful for the surprise on your face—he was worried you’d tell him that you knew. He’d always thought it was obvious that this song was about you. After all, you were the only one who was always there for him.

And, in any case, who else would he write about if not you? As soon as he was criticised for lacking emotion in his lyrics, he started to write from experience. And you were his experience.

But, of course, you didn’t think to look for yourself in his lyrics. You didn’t want to find yourself there.

And now you weren’t sure what the appropriate response was when someone told you they wrote a song about you. “Thank you” didn’t seem sufficient, because the song was about you, not for you. “I love it” also didn’t capture it, because you didn’t love it because it was about you. You just did.

So, you remained silent, watching the lights on the skyscraper across the street and the reflection of the dark clouds in the dark windows. The people behind them were likely asleep, resting before they started their day in a few hours.

“I think…” Jungkook began, his sentence ending sooner than he’d expected. His eyes were glossy when you looked at him. “I think I’m writing about you again.”

You swallowed and nervously bit your lower lip. The night was warm, but the wind on the roof was relentless. You couldn’t help shivering.

Your mind was running before you could stop it. You didn’t want to resume your conversation from Stockholm; it had managed to be too much by not being nearly enough. You couldn’t return there again.

But you still asked, “what were you writing?”

“About missing you.”

You sat there, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your dark jeans with the tip of your index finger. You tried to suppress the anticipation building in your stomach before it could fully manifest. Before it could turn into a terrifying disappointment. Before it could show you that you were lying to yourself when you said you’d moved on.

“Please don’t ask me why I’m doing this now,” Jungkook said in a strained whisper.

Your voice faltered as you said, “I won’t.”

“J-just so you know, I felt the same way back home,” he said. “The only difference is that here in Europe, you have no choice but to be around me.”

The implication was clear, even if his voice wasn’t accusing you of anything. He believed you were only spending time with him because your job required you to.

“I don’t… avoid you back home,” you defended weakly—the only way you knew how right now.

Last night, you’d told him you missed him and it didn’t end well. Actually, it didn’t end at all—it sort of hung over you and made this conversation uncomfortable. Like a scratchy sweater, rubbing on your skin in all the wrong ways.

“I know,” he said. “But you never put in special effort to see me, either.”

You took a sip of your cocktail, tossing your head back to finish it.

Placing the glass back down on the table between your seats, you finally said, “I didn’t know you wanted me to, until you brought it up the other day.”

“Yeah. I know that, too,” Jungkook said sadly. His moves mirrored yours as he picked his glass up, but stopped before bringing it to his lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. About Stockholm.”

The pounding of your heart was very loud, and your voice was very quiet.

“What are you sorry for?” you asked.

He looked down. “There were a lot of things I wanted to say to you, but I… didn’t know how. It got kind of, um, weird.”

He scoffed at his own choice of words, and you realised that you weren’t alone on this rooftop. There was Discomfort, Awkwardness, and Avoidance dancing around you two.

“It…” you began, but words didn’t come easy. “It shouldn’t have been weird.”

He shook his head. He was worried that this would happen. Worried that you’d take responsibility for last night. You’d say you were the manager, so you should have known better. Should have set stricter boundaries. Should have never crossed them.

Now, you added tentatively, “I-I mean, we’re friends, right?”

You could have smashed your glass on his head and that would have hurt less than the cursed word.

This wasn’t about friendship and you both knew it.

But you needed to feel better. Last night had scared you, he could tell as much. And now you needed to make sense of it. You needed to find a way to interpret it in a way that felt right to your standards.

Normally, he would have helped you. Anything to make you feel comfortable, that’s all he wanted anyway.

But, tonight, he was drunk. And so in love with you that it hurt.

“I don’t know what we are,” he said.

Your hands were restless as you tapped your fingers on your legs.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” you said. “For us to be friends.”

“It is what I want, but it’s also—it’s much more than just—I’m sorry.” He slid his palms over his cheeks and pressed his hands together against his lips. “I don’t know how to—I could never put my thoughts into words in a way that wouldn’t be too much. Or too little.”

He thought that if his friends would have been here, they would have laughed. Four years he’s wanted you, waited for you, but pretended he didn’t.

Clearly, he needed lessons on how to openly discuss his feelings.

He inhaled—or tried to, anyway—and picked up his drink. You took this as an opportunity to look at him.

“You’re, um—you’re good at putting them into song lyrics, though,” you said.

He chuckled weakly and placed his empty glass down next to yours. There was Sadness, too, twirling on the rooftop. And faint traces of Regret.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I’ll write another song about how much I want you.”

You inhaled too sharply to appear nonchalant. The consecutive “another song” and “I want you” pulsated painfully in your chest.

Alarmed by the sound of your breathing, Jungkook turned to look at you.

“I—sorry,” he said, reading your expression. “I can’t say that, right?”

The fingers of your right hand nervously grasped at the fingers of your left. You regretted not wearing longer clothing that you could pull on.

“No, you, um—well, you can say whatever you feel,” you said. “I just, uh… you know that I can’t say it back.”

He observed your fidgeting and initially interpreted it as discomfort. But now he believed it to be something else—a more prominent emotion, brought on by something other than just this conversation.

Uncertainty.

You said you couldn’t say it back. You meant that you weren’t allowed to, as his manager.

But you didn’t say that you didn’t want to say it back.

His voice trembled when he spoke, the words pouring out in one breath, “but what if we weren’t working together? What if we were somewhere in Oslo, on the roof of some bar, just the two of us? And this fucking never-ending Scandinavian wind, of course,” he paused when he saw a small smile make its way to your lips. “But the wind isn’t telling anyone anything, either. Wh-what would you say then?”

You looked up as if you could actually see the wind. You didn’t know what scared you more: thinking what it’d be like if you weren’t working together—because a few hours ago, that possibility seemed almost real—or admitting your thoughts out loud.

It returned, the heaviness of anticipation that you’d felt last night. You were very naïve to think you could stop it from coming back. To think you could quench the wishful thinking.

This anticipation seemed to control you more than you could control it.

“I’d say that this wind feels like we’re back on campus, loudly talking about our mid-terms and chasing after loose papers that wind had blown out of our hands,” you said. There was a reluctant, nostalgic smile on your face. “Then returning to my dorm room and listening to my neighbours argue about their dead plant, even though they’re both guilty of not looking after it. T-this feels like back then.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked near desperately.

You exhaled, but did not reply. Your skin tingled with pins and needles.

“It’s me,” he said, his tone gentler now. “There’s no one else here.”

And there it was – the moment that didn’t come in Stockholm.

Dizzy, you said, “I feel the same way as I did back then.”

Jungkook held his breath.

“I really need you to tell me,” he pleaded, “what way.”

You pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and focused on suppressing the goosebumps that arose on every part of your skin that his eyes touched.

“Just… exhilarated. From life. From love,” you spoke, your eyes fluttering to him. Frightened by the intensity of his gaze as he watched you, you looked back at the edge of the roof. “From you.”

You heard his breath quiver.

“Look at me,” he asked in a stern, yet powerless whisper.

You did—and he forgot what he was going to say.

He felt like you were both back there again, too. Like nothing had changed—because nothing had, not fundamentally—like he could reach out and you’d be there. Providing him with the noise he needed to not feel alone, and the comfort he needed to not feel overwhelmed.

Neither of you realised that he had leaned in until you felt the warmth of his breath—laced with a strong scent of whiskey—on your lips. Until your lungs started to burn from holding your breath so hard. Until you parted your lips slightly and the oxygen that slipped in was so full of echoes of his taste that you felt the roof turning upside down.

He closed his eyes as he lingered millimetres away from you, the close proximity putting you both in a trance so painfully blissful that not connecting your lips seemed almost sacrilegious.

You were hypnotised, too overwhelmed by the familiarity of the feeling—the barely thereness of his lips against yours—to think of anything else.

You couldn’t pull away.

But, in a blind panic, he was the one who did.

Blinking in surprise as he moved away, you found yourself frozen, eyes locked on the empty space in front of you.

Jungkook stared at the ground, breathless and wide-eyed.

Even drunk, he couldn’t do this.

There was Minjun’s face in his head—his initial discomfort the first time he found out about the bet. There was the conversation in the bar—and the cake metaphor, even though Jungkook thought he neither had the cake, nor could he eat it. There was Sid in his head, too—his smug grin as he insisted Jungkook would lose.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could hear white noise in place of thoughts, and something else, too—his own screams.

What did I do, what did I do, what did I do, what did I—

You couldn’t hear his attempts to inhale because as soon as he pulled away, your own thoughts grew louder. The realisation of what had happened again—what had almost happened again—was so strong, it almost pushed you down to the floor. You had to grip your chair not to double over from the weight of it.

You knew he was drunk, despite seemingly sobering up a bit on the roof. And he pulled away. Meanwhile, you’d had a few drinks tonight and you were going to let him—were waiting for him to—kiss you.

Somehow, he’d managed to exhibit more rationality while intoxicated, than you could while nearly sober.

You stood up.

Pausing for a second as you debated if you should give him an excuse for why you were leaving, you mumbled something about calling him a taxi, and walked away without turning back.

The door slammed shut behind you, but Jungkook still didn’t dare to lift his gaze. He was too focused on clenching his fists so he wouldn’t throw the empty glasses down the side of the roof.

Alone on the staircase, you welcomed the emotion that had trailed after you all the way from Sweden.

You were angry.

But not at this. Not at what could’ve happened and didn’t. Not at him, not for leaning in, and not for pulling away.

You were angry at yourself. For letting yourself wish for something you shouldn’t have wished for. And for feeling disappointed when your wish didn’t come true.

Twice, you’ve found yourself on the edge of almost. Twice.

Last night, you’d told him it was easy to get overwhelmed by all the memories that your time together has brought back. But perhaps it wasn’t him who got overwhelmed. Perhaps it was you.

Perhaps seeing each other so often had blurred the lines, and you found yourself forgetting. Found yourself yearning. Hoping.

But the fact remained—and you repeated it in your head over and over again as you climbed the stairs down from the roof, clutching the railing as if your life depended on it—you broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason.

It was shocking how little that reason mattered when you closed your eyes in the taxi ten minutes later, and all you could picture was what it would’ve been like if you’d been the one to close the distance between your lips tonight.

And as thoughts of Reconnaissance and Nick’s offer returned to your mind on the ride back, you wondered if tonight was a pro or a con.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “careful what you wish for”

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cyber333angel · 5 months

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MARRIED!NANAMI KENTO & MARRIEDSECRETARY! READER

CAUTION ⚠️

This work contains: use of the word daddy, a itty bitty age gap, praise, exhibition, breeding kink

NOTE: (not too long) awaited nanami fic 😱 I didn’t like how I first wrote it so I scrapped it and started over but I really like how it turned out! enjoy 😉

you started working at the JJK firm at the ripe age of 20, hired by none other than nanami kento. your boss was very well known business man and being his secretary you had attended a lot of meetings to take notes, manage his schedule and answer the phone . you watched him walk into his large office every day, staring at him from the top of your laptop, you saw glimpses of how he stretched the grey suit with his muscular upper body. you developed a crush on nanami, thinking only of him at night whenever you touched yourself. remembering how deep his voice sounded, and what he would sound like if he talked you through taking the full length of his cock. quickly remembering where you were, you bit your lip and went back to work. kento knew you had a little crush on him, you being completely obvious with the staring he thought it was cute.

he got exhausted with not actually getting to know you, so he asked you to “schedule a dinner for the two of us for next saturday” , you flustered at the invitation “yes sir.” and told him you were looking forward to it. the date was sensational, the two of you learned so much about each other, what foods you both liked to the worst date you’ve ever had . dating him only went on for about two years , until nanami decided to ask you to marry him! it was a beautiful wedding all paid for by him, of course, it was everything you could dream of and more. after the wedding you never quit you job , in fact you kept working directly under your husband. abusing this new privilege, kento lost all professionalism, he would call you into his office over the smallest things just to make an excuse to see you. “what time do I have to arrive at the meeting tomorrow?” you roll your eyes at him because he knows this meeting was canceled days ago, he chuckles at your reaction “im just poking fun, come sit down.” you look at him and walk over to his chair, straddling his lap.

“you look so beautiful in this outfit, sweetheart.” you smile, “t’aw! thank you ken, but you saw me with it on before we left the house and you complimented me already.” you put both your hands on his cheeks to lean in for a quick kiss. “i know, i just want my pretty wife to know how much i love her pretty face.” still with biggest grin, your husband pulls you closer to him from your waist and indulges in a deeper, more passionate kiss . he presses his tongue into your mouth and you melt into his touch, quiet pants are muffled between the two of you. kento with his mouth still stuck to yours, clears his desk of paperwork and clutter. he manhandles you to sit on top of the desk “b-baby I don’t think I can stay quiet if we do it in your office..” ignoring you, nanami puts his hands up your skirt reaching and grabbing you stockings and panties together and bunching them together at the bottom of your heels. you knew kento didn’t get like this unless something was bothering him. only about 5 times surprisingly he had fucked you in his office, given it was at the end of the day and people had already left. this was a different situation. wanting to cheer him up, you stroke his hair “s’alright if you use me ken.” he lets his head fall into your hand and he sighs, “thank you baby. I had a bit of a rough morning.”

“lay back down for me.” you rest your head on the hard surface immediately after the demand, he lifts both of your legs up connected by the clothing scrunched up at the base of your feet. bending down- “sweetheart, i never get enough of the sight of this sweet pussy..” shying away at the compliment you squirm from him causing his hands to tighten the grip. opening his mouth, a wet glob slips from his tongue and onto your cunt. hitching at the contact, your husband takes his thumb and spreads the wad of spit across your folds. “mmm ken! please hurry up!” you plead, not satisfied with the urgency in which you ask for, sternly, “good girls take what they are given, calm down.” kento takes his two hands and puts them on the sides of your ass, he thrust two fingers into your cunt and starts lapping at your little clit, sucking on the little bud, two fingers pumping away at your hole gradually making you climax. “f-fuck daddy! that felt so good..” finishing on his face he warns you.

“we don’t use those words remember pretty girl?” you nod forgetting in the moment, you watch kento as he unbuckles his belt and pulls out his hardened cock. it stood tall, not too thick in girth but made up for it in length. “your gonna need to relax and breath for me alright?” understanding what he means you respond with a quick “mhm!” you take a deep breath in and feel him prodding at your entrance. breathing out kento places his hand on your pelvis, pulling his hips back a bit and then thrusting back fully inside you. you gasp with a heartened cry at the sudden fill of your cunt, you cry. “oh god!”

“good girl” he caresses your face “you take daddy’s dick so good..so fuckin good.” arching your back off the desk “mmph ken..your reaching me so d-deep!”

“oh i know, i knoww sweetheart, it feels good doesn’t it?” you respond with a loud cry, kento reminded of where the two of you are “baby-baby i need to listen t’me okay? you need to keep your voice down. I know you feel good but we aren’t the only people in this building.” embarrassed by the way you were acting you shrivel up “im s-sorry kento! il try to keep quiet!” your husband aspires you for the effort “thats my girl.”

you cover your mouth with one hand, trying to muffle your moans. the other hand on kento’s stomach, your weak attempt to slow him down. “let’s wrap this up hmm sweetie?” you nod quickly, he knows you tighten up and cum faster when you hear his voice so a series of praise leaves his lips to help you cum.

“you make daddy feel so good, yknow that right baby?”

“I know how bad you have wanted a baby, honey, il fill this pussy up and give you what you want, hmm? how does that sound?”

he fucks you hard but talks to you gently until you can’t take it anymore, creaming on his dick, you arch fully off the desk spasmming and gasping. he fills your stomach and you completely feel the load of a warm substance in your body. kento takes his fingers and pushes back any cum that leaked out, back into your destroyed hole. “augh!” you hiccup, not letting you catch your breath he grabs you off the desk he helps you stand, bending down to help you put your panties back on. gliding the fabric up your thighs and carful to leave his semen in place. kissing your stomach, the insides that he has just gotten finished messing up, he worked himself up to your head. “you better keep it warm and safe for me honey. I don’t want a single drop to slip out before we get home.” giving you a loving kiss, leaving you a little ditzy, you pat yourself off and looking for the papers you had originally walked in with. on your way out you hear him clear his throat, “yes and tell the other firm they will be expecting me tomorrow for that meeting.” looking at his computer in a serious voice, you giggle remembering the earlier excuse and close his door, sitting back at your front desk your met with some side eyes and lots of missed calls.

#nanami x reader <3 #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami x black!reader #nanami kento #long awaited!!#jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujustu kaisen smut

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kairiscorner · 1 year

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he is me and i am him (also i updated my masterlist, i put a jjk section !!)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he's so sorry he made you cry... kinda. – teen!satoru gojo x reader

summary: he was never a nice guy, you knew that, but even so... he does have a heart, a literal anatomical one; he's just never shown you how much you make it beat like crazy. pairing: teen!satoru gojo x reader genre: lil' bit of angst and a whole lot of comfort and fluff 🫶🫶🫶

satoru gojo is a little shit. well, a head and a half taller than you piece of shit, but who cares? you do, a little bit, but the fact he's so much taller than you isn't what bothered you—it's the fact that he effortlessly makes you feel shitty about yourself.

satoru gojo was the worst guy you ever met, and you've met all kinds of douchebags in your life—but he definitely takes the cake. he's insensitive, crass, lazy... he's everything you hate in a person. you had no idea how anybody could like him. the only reason you hang around him is because you're friends with shoko and geto, no other reason. you'd kick him out if you could, but you didn't wanna hurt the two of them so you just... had to bear him and his shitty attitude.

satoru gojo was so boisterous, he always filled the silence with his stupid jokes and gags that you were surprised anyone would laugh at. he was so noisy... it was like he wanted his voice to be remembered by everyone, especially you.

satoru gojo doesn't know when enough is enough when it comes to you, he assumes that your angry, annoyed face is a face you make when he's doing a good job at riling you up–and it is, but he's yet to understand just how mean he can really be towards you. he thinks that a lot of his jokes towards you always come across the way he wants them to; they're just harmless little jabs at you, no biggie... until he jabs you a little too hard that tears start falling from the corner of your eyes.

satoru gojo knows nothing, nothing, about comforting people when they're crying–he's unsure why you're even crying in the first place. if he wanted to make you cry, he'd've done much worse than just poke some fun at you and tease you for a few of your shortcomings, but he never meant to make you cry. he teased you that you were a crybaby, a sensitive little cutie that gets pissed about everything. turns out, he was partially right, you were indeed expressive with your emotions, but only when they reach the boiling point, and you just... can't take his bullshit anymore.

satoru gojo had never seen you so vulnerable before; he had always thought you were the type to not get so affected by some guy's unsolicited opinion, but he wasn't just some guy to you... he was satoru gojo for crying out loud; and you didn't care if he was some hotshot sorcerer or womanizer or anybody else important or well-known or liked–he was an asshole, he... he shouldn't have affected you this much. you weren't angry at him, at least not anymore, you were more angry at yourself for letting his words get to you.

satoru gojo felt awkward and a bit unsure of what to do as he watched you cry, with you trying your hardest to wipe your tears away amidst you sobbing a whole new batch of tears. it was like his words had cut so deep into your heart that you forgot how to close the faucet of your tears. you were so mad... how could a jerk like him get to you that well?

satoru gojo would've left you right then and there for you to deal with the aftermath of his overstepping, like hell did he want an earful from shoko and geto from his idiocy and insensitivity again, but there was just something about your pathetic little self that gojo felt compelled to deal with, to... console.

satoru gojo hates this feeling, he hates feeling responsible for feelings that aren't even his. you would think that for a guy who gets a lot of praise from people for his looks and abilities, he'd know how to deal with them and get them off his back–but he doesn't. he sighs as he looks away from you, his brows furrowed together in agitation as he tries to settle with himself that he shouldn't stay, he shouldn't try comforting you when he doesn't even have the faintest idea on how to even start.

satoru gojo sighs and groans loudly as he crouches to level with you, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to collect his thoughts. "oi, crybaby, look at me." he said to you in a snappy voice as you looked up at him with angry eyes, your vision being blurred as the tears obscured your sight. if your goal was to make gojo feel bad, well you were doing a semi-bad job; he doesn't yield to anybody's tears, or at least, he didn't until he became the reason you cried for the first time.

satoru gojo sighed again as he took off his sunglasses, wanting to face you fully, show you he isn't kidding around. you looked away from him again as you buried your face in your palms, your muffled sobs getting louder as gojo approached you. "c'mon now, crybaby... y'know i didn't really wanna make you weep–crying doesn't look good on you." he muttered as he gently grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from your face, seeing your eyes dripping with tears and your nostrils wet with snot.

satoru gojo chuckled as he saw your usually prim and proper face being all disheveled and wet, to believe he was the first guy in a long while to make you sob isn't that unbelievable–and though he felt a small pang in his chest that urged him to cheer you up, he kinda found this other side of you as... kinda adorable.

satoru gojo gently wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, chuckling lowly as he did; muttering how swollen your eyes look now, how they–despite him saying that crying didn't suit you–you looked really pretty with this more somber look on your face. "for a crybaby, you sure look kinda pretty after sobbing. it's pathetic, sure, but... kinda hot as well." he said in a hushed voice that was laced with mischief as he stuck his tongue out at you as you looked at him all angrily, as if you were about to hit him for what he said.

satoru gojo laughed loudly when you said you weren't a crybaby, you just... you just felt a little vulnerable. "yeah, yeah, say what you want to feel better, crybaby. and, so i can see you smile that impish little grin again..." he uttered as he leaned closer to you–his aquamarine blue eyes locking with your own as he stared into the pretty hue of your irises–and says with a wide smirk on his face: "i'm sorry..." and he blows a raspberry at your face and chuckles. "kinda." he ends as he pulls away from you, pinching your cheek all the while. he dons on his sunglasses as he pinches your cheeks again, noticing how bite-able they are. some things just never change, do they? well, at least you heard the satoru gojo speak an apology, even if it was fake, or semi-fake.

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grenade-maid · 9 months

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Part of why I dragged my feet on ever checking out JJK was the reputation I heard was that it's a BRUTAL grimdark story where ANYONE can DIE in a snap and the author says FUCK you. And after finally catching up with the anime that just... Isn't the tone at all?? Like, Game of Thrones, Gantz, Attack on Titan, etc other cornerstone grimdark reference points, I think one of their defining hallmarks is not just that characters die suddenly and violently, but that human life is nasty, brutish, and meaningless, and it's your own fault for being stupid enough to get attached.

Jujutsu Kaisen on the other hand, I don't know how you can look at one of the most recent casualties circa S2Ep20 of the anime where that character gets a full entire episode reminiscing about their childhood, and the moments and people that meant most to them, and come away thinking the author's intent was to treat life as meaningless. The amount of screen time devoted to the following character who gets badly maimed, the audience gets enthusiastically shoved neck deep into their insane kaleidoscopic passion that is never once undercut or subverted. Both of these characters, far from being callously snuffed out and dumped in the trash, were shown immense love. What we got was not a statement of their life being disposable, but a celebration of life, a reminder of who they are, what they cared about, what made them special, who they loved and who loved them and will remember them in turn.

This is a story about curses born of misery, hatred, and malice. It is also a story deeply concerned with dualism, especially when it comes to attachment and desire. Misery stems from worldly attachments, but it is not weak or foolish to become attached to things in this world. To love something is to set yourself up for the pain or anger of losing it, or sadness of having it denied. But that love is what makes life worth living anyway, and what makes it worth it to keep fighting. We as the audience are sad because we are attached to these characters who have met terrible fates. We see enough of them to be able to clearly picture the whole rich life they could have lived surrounded by friends and feel the sting of that path cut short. It is a story about how it was worthwhile knowing them well enough to be attached anyway, even if it meant unavoidable heartbreak.

This is true of both the human protagonists as well as the curses! Volcano Man and Mahito are ruthless killers who cruelly take lives without a thought. They also have hopes and dreams that they earnestly try to protect and follow through on, and face heartbreaking despair upon defeat. They feel pain just like we do, but must nevertheless be killed. Humans face pain through the very act of living, but nevertheless must live.

In true grimdark fiction there is rarely anything good in life for characters to return to once the battle is over. In Jujutsu Kaisen, on the contrary, there is enough good in life that we see it even amidst the battle. I can see that no other way than an expression of genuine affection. Truly bleak fiction leaves me wondering why everyone involved doesn't just put a gun in their mouth and be done with it. JJK provides an answer--because you'll get to laugh about ruining an expensive shirt, because you'll meet an acquaintance's hot mom, because the next human earthworm movie is coming out, because your favorite idol is doing a meet and greet this weekend, because maybe someday you'll finally go to Malaysia. There are many answers, and none of them are stupid.

#Chainsaw Man is also like this #op #jjk

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h0ney-mochi · 8 months

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A Drabble, more or less. [2]

Character in mind: Kaedehara Kazuha. Feel free to imagine someone else :)

Content: sub reader, dom character. afab reader. nsfw, smut.

A/n: watched jjk and I got hit by such a big wave that I had to write something.. might as well give it to you guys. I hope your holidays went well and that you celebrated the new year well! ♡

Your hand between your thighs, moans just barely getting hidden by your other hand, you're laying in your bed. You've been left alone for far too long again, your sexual needs building up over the days.

Your darling has been busy, so he hasn't made many appearances in your shared home. Maybe he gets home late at night, when you're already asleep, just to get in bed with you and be gone in the morning.. or he just has stayed where he had to, for days on end.

Either way, the lack of his.. skillful fingers, tongue and, well.. him in general, has gotten you in this situation. Sexually frustrated, craving his touch, but simply not being able to get it. So if you're alone all of the time, might as well use it well. Sort of. By pleasuring yourself.

Another day without your dear boy, you're in your room again, all alone. Lights dimmed low, you're laying in bed, imagining things and remembering moments with him. Of course you don't expect him to suddenly turn up, so your guard is low. You're close, oh so close to hitting that one high, though it's just not the same without him. But oh well, it'll have to do.

...

"..[name], my dear? Are you home?" His voice calls as he enters the house. Leaving some things he had bought in the kitchen, he walks off to find you. He hasn't seen you in days and man, he missed your touch. You always managed to make his day better and your skin was just.. so soft..

For a moment, he thinks that you might be out. Maybe with a friend, maybe a walk. He reaches your room's door and is about to open it when he hears you. More precisely, he hears his name from your mouth.

He froze, face flushing immediately, as he blinks at the door in front of him. No movement, he continues to listen. There it is again, the sweet sound of your voice. Your moans.

Breathing in, he tries to open the door quietly. Looking inside, he sees you on the bed of course. Your back is turned to the door and you're breathing heavily, a moan slipping here and there. He smiles, closing the door the same way. You heard the door handle make a small noise and you rushed to pull your shirt down enough for a cover as you sat up, turning to the door.

"Ah.." He speaks, "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just me." You stare at him, both embarrassed and.. shocked? God knows. "Oh my.. you're home, I'm so sorry—" You stumble on your words, stuck on what to say in this situation. He chuckles and God, him.. fuck you missed him.

"It seems I've been gone for too long, haven't I? I should be the one apologizing, you know how I am," he turns to lock the door before walking towards you. "Let me help, please. It's the least I can do right now for you."

He's on the bed, hands trailing up your legs, going over your knees, stopping there. Waiting for your permission.

You stare at him, heart pounding, butterflies already swarming in your stomach.

"You.. God, don't, please- Go ahead, please, do what you want with me, just- just don't take your hands off of me, please." You manage to say, throwing your hands on his shoulders and pulling him on you, for a kiss.

He's quick to reciprocate, letting your tongue meet his, eyes closing in the process. His hands go down your thighs, one in between them and you jump slightly from the contact. The one you've been longing for so long. An amused, muffled noise comes from his mouth as he pushes a finger in you, oh, you're really this excited, huh?

Just when his finger goes deeper, he's quick to pull out. The kiss muffled your sound and he departs from you. You're about to ask why, why did he not go further? Why stop there? He's really gonna leave you like this? Unreal.

But you close your mouth when you watch him lay down, hands on your hips, pulling you towards his face. His eyes meet yours and you swallow, suddenly feeling oh so nervous.

He tilts his head to the side, slowly blinking at you as he speaks, "This will be my apology to you, love."

And then your hand clutches the sheets under you, right when his tongue makes contact with you. Another flutter in your stomach when he flicks his tongue; then it does a flip when he puts his whole mouth on you, flattening his tongue.

Oh, you already feel like you're about to pass out.

Just how long can you miss a person that their touch has you crumbling to pieces?

#☆°• ☆ writings #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha smut #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha smut

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angry-geese · 1 year

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Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything.

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7.

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer.

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it.

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room.

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost.

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say.

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two?

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path.

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!”

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn.

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself.

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying.

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her.

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says.

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable.

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring.

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter.

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him.

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say.

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised.

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet.

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck.

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this.

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable.

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away.

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in.

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself.

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway.

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do.

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments.

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well.

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in.

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt.

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee.

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger.

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all.

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

#jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #ive kinda forgotten how to tag stuff tbh

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nanaminokanojo · 7 months

Text

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 88)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 88 next>>

A/N: Contains prose. CW: slight violence (hello sukuna) | angst

“Guards?”

You swallowed hard, pausing a step behind your father when your cousin’s unmistakable low mocking tone jolted you from your tedium. Your old man made good on his word to obtain all the necessary requirements you would need for your transfer to London. Everything was going according to his plan, you thought bitterly, merely sitting down through the whole process in livid resignation as the dean of the students’ affairs babbled about losing an asset to your department.

Or so your father thought.

Tension rose like thick fog between your cousin and the four men who came with you per your father’s orders. The latter eyed Sukuna as if he wasn’t of any consequence, but you saw his shoulders square up ever so slightly. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t put it past Sukuna to do anything outrageous, and he hired people to watch you at least until the whole process was done.

“Damn, old man. Isn’t this going over the top?” Sukuna spat, leering at your father. You just stood there, watching his fists clenching and unclenching. There was no mistake in his intentions. You grew up with him after all. He took after your aunt, and when he sets his mind on something, regardless of what stood in his way, there was no stopping him.

Just then, his eyes shifted to you. “Are you just gonna stand there?” he snapped just as Yuuji appeared behind him, flashing you an imploring look. “Y/N, come with us.”

You swallowed hard. “I –”

“Get in the car. We had a deal.”

“Don’t move a fuckin’ inch, brat!” Sukuna hissed. “You’re coming home with us.”

“Enough.” The older male merely nodded, conveying his silent command for his men to handle Sukuna should be dare do anything. However, even they hesitated when Kento came into view, getting in between your father and Sukuna. Close behind him were Choso, Suguru, and…

“Sukuna, walk away,” you vaguely heard Kento say.

“Come on, man.” Suguru.

Satoru.

Everything seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace, everything quieting down to a dull hum as the images around you warped into nothing but blurry, distorted colors. Your breath caught in your throat the moment those striking cerulean eyes met yours. And like a dried up gorge, your mind filled with every waking moment you’ve spent with him, every word he ever uttered to you, the sound of his laughter, his smiles… his tears.

You didn’t think you’d see him so soon, and your eyes threatened to fill with tears. It took everything in you to suppress them along with the feeling of your knees about to buckle. Or maybe it was that feeling of just wanting to walk towards him, so near yet so, so very far, and melt in his warmth. Tell him you’re sorry. Hold him. Let him hold you together. Come clean.

Satoru’s eyes remained fixed on you, communicating with you without words, every single word he wrote to you in his messages trickling into the forefront of your mind.

‘I really miss you…’

‘Give me reason to let go…to hate you.’

‘I don’t regret anything.’

‘I love you.’

“No!” Sukuna growled, snapping you out of your reverie and making you remember just why you can’t even talk to him; why you can’t even explain anything to him. Because everything would be a lie anyway. It was better for him to just let you go than hear you spout bullshit about why you even hurt him.

Stepping forward, you stepped towards Sukuna and Yuuji, flashing them a warning look. “Don’t do this.”

Kento inconspicuously jerked his head towards the waiting car just a few paces away.

Your father shrugged, his cold eyes finding Satoru. It didn’t escape your notice how he smirked at the latter’s direction and held you back, grabbing your arm and dragging you behind him. “I said get in the car, Y/N,” he stated again, voice deceptively calm.

“WHY?!”

You knew Sukuna’s question was directed to you, the anger and sadness in his tone slashing at you, but you kept your resolve strong and shook your head.

“You promised you would stay with us. Was that a fucking lie? You’re just gonna leave us?”

You shook your head. “Let’s talk tomorrow.” To your father, you said, “Let’s go.” You turned to walk towards the car.

However, he just had to talk. “You have nothing to do with this –”

It all happened so fast. None of your father’s hired security personnel were able to react fast enough. Yuuji was just a beat too late holding Sukuna back, and Kento wasn’t able to anticipate it either. You stood there, barely able to turn your head to their direction when you saw a flash of pink and black, one large fist speeding towards your father who flew backwards on the pavement, ending up on his bottom, his mouth busted. All that happened in a matter of seconds. Probably not even.

“Sukuna!” you heard several people call his name, but all you could think about was how he would do anything to protect the family while you stood on the opposite side of the spectrum, unable to do just that.

Before you knew it, tears were falling from your eyes as chuckles started to erupt from your throat, soft at first and then becoming more audible, enough for everyone around you to snap their heads towards where you stood. You covered your mouth at first, not really understanding why the hell you were laughing of all things. You just were.

“Y/N…” Suguru was about to walk towards you, but one of your father’s men held out an arm while you started laughing, unable to stop it despite how much tears were falling from your eyes.

“You think this is funny?” Sukuna, who is being held back in a headlock by both Yuuji and Kento, asked you scathingly while your father looked at you strangely, seemingly unable to recognize you. But when did he? He didn’t even seem to linger much on the thought as he was helped up, jabbing a finger at your cousin.

“I’ll make sure you’re locked up for –”

“No.” Through your hysteria, you stood in front of your father, glaring hard at him through clenched teeth. Your hands balled into fists beside you, so tight that you could feel your nails ripping your palms open as you swallowed your misplaced laughter for your next words: “You p-promised. You fucking promised!”

At that, your father seemed to calm down a bit, merely glancing at Sukuna before turning away and getting in the car. You just stood there, breathing so hard that you were seeing black spots in your vision.

And then you felt that familiar warmth seize you as long fingers gently wrapped around your upper arm, making you turn around, but before your eyes can meet those blue drowning pools that threatened to pull you into their owner’s arms where you wished to stay – with each and every nerve on your body firing with nothing but pain – you made him unhand you, prying off his hand from you before walking away and feeling your body turn freezing cold despite the burning sun above you.

Just then Sukuna spoke, making you pause.

“Coward.”

I know.

And then you boarded the car without sparing a single glance towards the people you knew cared deeply for you, the same ones you were hurting deeply with your decision to leave.

All because you fell in love.

You both did.

A/N: Gonna leave this update for you guys. I'll be doing the rest in the following days. Please enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading. It's getting long, but I don't want to make this half-assed or rushed. We'll get to the end soon enough. Again, thanks!

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid @weebbuscuit @moonmalice @taengkatsu @reagan707 @lysaray

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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megan017 · 9 months

Text

Don't mind me just venting, after reading some JJK x readers and it's also past 1 AM so I am questioning my life pretty much. Pretty angsty, insecure, self confidence lacking vent.

🩵Randomly recommended song🩵

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Being single since the day you were born wasn't so great. Sure, until your late teenage years you thought you might be too young to date anyone. It wouldn't be real love after all. Just the typical young love that middle and high schoolers go through. You know, those relationships which end in a short period of time. However, as proud as you were that you were never included in these things... it was saddening being surrounded by people who were either in a relationship or had one.

You wanted to feel loved, also developed attachment issues, making it harder to make a difference between liking or loving someone, but it wasn't your fault anyways. Even if this issue gave you a hard time, making you desperate to be in a relationship finally, you had a type, you had standards which you never planned giving up on, right? You wanted to be happy with someone who hit these requirements, you weren't asking for much, were you?

Then why are you telling yourself that it is fine if they are not your type at all, they hit a few things you like in someone, that must be enough too, right?

Oh...

Maybe you do ask for a lot, no? After all, who are you to have the audacity to even think of having standards? Huh? Look at yourself...

What do you have to offer?

Have you ever thought of if these kind of people would even love you back? Oh please... Do you really think you hit their standards?

Don't be so self centered, you are not the only one who thinks the way you do.

Now go and lose some weight so you would have the ideal body.

Put some make up on to hide your ugly face, or at least make something else be the center of attention when they look you in the eye.

Have you looked at your nails? They look like you have never ever taken care of them. Maybe some press ons might help that.

I hope you remember that your face isn't the only thing ugly here. What a shame, look at that hip, those thighs and breast covered in white stretch marks. You know those are permanent, right?

Uhm... look at your grades... You can try telling yourself that "those don't reflect your real knowledge", but do you really believe it? You're so stupid. You really think you would have a chance with anyone this way?

Your looks changed so much. Almost looking completely like those annoying girls.

You are one of them, aren't you?

Well, not really. Fortunately.

However, even those kind of people you dislike, your current classmates, your ex-lassmates, even your bullies, one who is also known as your toxic ex-friend, has a partner.

Maybe, just maybe...

...you are the issue.

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Don't misunderstand me, I don't have problem with people who do make up, do their nails or do anything to make themselves feel prettier. Then I was talking about the annoying girl who do these, I meant I hate their personality. Their personality is what's rotten.

LOVE Y'ALL, MWAH!

I just go, continue listening to my vent playlist while crying, no sleep needed this night.

Geto x reader hurt/comfort coming soon, where again, I will just list my insecurities but he comes to the rescue and comforts the reader<33

-Megan🩵

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workingbynyx · 3 months

Text

Words I Held Back — Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

× :: summary — satoru is gone and sukuna remains victorious while you had to stay on the sidelines, however, a note managed to find its way into your pocket– what could it be?

× :: pairing — gojo satoru x gn!reader

× :: genre — angst, oneshot

× :: warning (s) — some ooc and oos instances!

× :: a/n — aaaand we're back in the game after months of disappearing 😎 hey folks! i'm gonna have to start yall off with a recent hyperfixation of mine (aka jjk) about our glorious blue eyed king 🙏🏻 this is my first time writing some angst and about anime, so apologies in advance! i'm also sorry if this was pretty short :<

now that satoru was gone, you felt as if a big part of your soul was gone too. it didn't feel real, it didn't feel possible but sukuna managed to do the impossible. you were angry at yourself, you should've been there with him— everyone should've been. you were in complete shock, you wanted to blame yourself but there was no time to even mourn the loss of satoru gojo, you had to help shoko with other injured people that needed your assistance.

tears wouldn't stop falling down your cheeks, they all fell on their own thinking about him alone. you worked on patching up sorcerers although they couldn't help but notice how stained with tears your face was while you cleaned their wounds in a blank expression. you never bothered to wipe them on your own since new patients are coming in every second, you had to put them first before yourself.

eventually, you stood up to get yourself a nice cup of tea to calm your nerves. however, you felt a piece of paper in the depths of your pocket when you placed your hands in them. you carefully fished it out and noticed a something written in them. you gasped under your breath when you realized who it's from...

"y/n, it's satoru.

if you're seeing this then that probably means i'm in shinjuku right now~ i wrote this letter for you to read since i know how anxious you get in serious missions that involved special grades. i also wanted to write this letter because, well, i've been meaning to tell you something for a while now actually. these are the words i held back, y/n. i never had the guts to tell you in person so this is probably the only reasonable way of letting you know. you've always been the source of my motivation to keep going, you kept my world spinning even if it was slowly caving in towards me. you made me realize how much my worth is as a person... as my self, and i'd like to thank you for that.

right now, i'm fighting in that city for everyone. i wouldn't be able to forgive myself if i died on that field and leave you like that without any further explanation, i'm really sorry. but at least i died knowing i've fought and gave my all for the person i love earnestly. i remember when we were still first years and you've only then discovered your true cursed technique with me, you were so happy. i fell in love with you right there and then. i didn't think it would be possible for somebody like me to develop these feelings for you, i didn't want to admit it because i know i wasn't strong enough yet to protect you. i thought i needed to prove myself first to be worth of your love, but i realized that i already was even if i didn't. that was foolish of me, wasn't it? hahaha

i guess i was also scared, most of the people i loved are always harmed or endangered, so all i really wanted was to keep you safe in this cruel world, free from danger like me. love is the most twisted curse of them all, but here i am completely bewitched by you. whatever our fate may be, i only wish for your happiness to be found— even if it's not with me. you probably already know what i'm about to tell you but you always forget (dumbass !) sleep on time, eat on time and remember that you're the strongest.. second after me though of course :P

let's talk when i get back!

— g. s. "

you completely broke down by the end, sinking onto the floor on your knees as tears slowly stained the paper. your heart shattered into pieces like glass when everything finally caught up to you, why must the world be so cruel? nanami, haibara, suguru, and now satoru. one by one, everyone is being taken from you without any reason why other than beastly curses being bloodthirsty for murder and power. satoru deserved to live longer away from constant danger, he deserved the happiness that was ripped from him a long time ago.

the both of you could've lived a wonderful life together, but all of that was gone in a flash.

"satoru... i didn't k-know... i'm really sorry" you muttered under your breath, your nails digging into the skin of your thigh. your hands then came up towards your face in attempt to muffle your sobbing. shaking hands, silent cries and heavy tears falling, the folded letter abandoned in front of you as guilt slowly consumed you inside.

from that day on, gojo satoru was dead.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #JJK x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x gn!reader #gojo satoru x gn!reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #gojo is alive! trust!#✎ ─ nyx fics !

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berryhobii · 1 year

Text

Late for Work: Clocked Out(jjk x reader)

Pairing: Husband!Gamer!Jungkook x black!female!reader

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Mentions of engagement, reader has a sister in this, mentions of wild hotel sex, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), oral(m receiving), multiple orgasms(m and f receiving), riding, reader’s knees are built Ford tough, like really, reader rides him like a professional, standing sex, standing doggystyle, strength kink, praise kink, spit kink, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of past exhibitionism and voyeruism, idk if I’d refer to this as dubious consent but Taehyung and Jimin listen willingly to reader and JK having sex although they don’t outright consent to it, mentions of Jimin and his partner being voyeurs, reader has a thigh tattoo, reader is dark skinned

A/N: Hi! I’m back with Part 2 of my Gamer!Jungkook smut. This is really just straight horny, desperate sex🤣I contemplated just making this a sweet cockwarming scenario but then I thought….NAH. Reader and Jungkook are so I’m love and attracted to each other. I also included a little snippet of what I’m thinking of doing for a Jimin drabble. There aren’t enough stories about OC/Reader’s being voyeurs so I want to take a crack at it. It’ll probably be about Jimin/OC after listening to this couple’s escapades in Taehyung’s bathroom🤣🤣Next on my list is a Seokjin x roommate!reader, a Hoseok x Stripper!reader, and a Taehyung x NudeModel!reader. I also have an idea for an OT7 x Succubus!reader story where reader collects each member like infinity stones🤣. I actually want to attempt my first collab with that idea so if anyone wants to contribute, please reach out! Anyway, enjoy this! Criticism is always accepted. Stay safe💜

The only thing on your mind the entire time you were at work was Jungkook’s cock. You angrily ate your bagel in the car, trying to force down the throbbing between your legs. Stupid meeting! A few minutes more and you would have had that glorious cock right where you wanted it.

Letting your frustration out on your squishy steering wheel cover, you let out a deep sigh. You inhaled a few deep breaths, putting on your fake smile before stepping out of your car.

The meeting went pretty well. Your other coworkers covered for you until you got there. Jungkook’s cock wasn’t even on your mind once you got in front of that board to give your presentation.

Like always, you amazed them with your thoroughness and well thought out plan and it would be put into effect within the next few months.

“We’re going to lunch. You coming?” One of your coworkers asked.

You shook your head, politely declining. “No thanks. Jungkook made my lunch. I’m gonna call him.”

They let out some ‘oooo’s’, your eyes rolling but you couldn’t fight down the smile.

“I wish I had a buff tattooed husband to make my lunch.” One of them dreamily sighed to which they got nudged by someone else.

“You’re gay though.”

“So? I can still have straight thoughts.”

Spinning around in your desk chair, you pulled out your phone, tapping the screen to wake it up. A smile spread across your face at the photo on your lock screen. It was a selfie you took after Jungkook proposed—your lips locked in a kiss and your left hand raised to show off the rock on your finger. You remember that night so clearly. Your sister had come down from America to distract you for the entire day while Jungkook prepared the surprise. She randomly offered to do your hair and makeup, saying it was something she wanted to try for her small business. Of course, you thought nothing of it since you’ve helped her plenty of times. You still didn’t connect the dots when she told you to dress nice or when she loaded you into the car and drove you to an outdoors gazebo lit up by fairy lights and surrounded by your favorite flowers.

And there was Jungkook standing at the end, dressed to the nines and looking like the man of your dreams. You were too stunned to even move. Was this really happening? A gentle push from your sister moved your feet forward until you were standing before him, tears threatening to spill past your waterline.

“I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle like that again but that time, with this on your finger.”

Then he got down on one knee, pulling out a velvet box and opening it, showing you the most gorgeous ring you’ve ever seen in your life.

That night was so magical. High off the endorphins and the overwhelming love you had for him, you two made passionate love all night, whispering your promises of the future on each other’s lips.

…..the room was so heavy with the scent of sex that you had to open all of the windows…..the hotel even charged you another cleaning fee because of how messy you left it.

Mhmm….

You clenched your thighs together, the memory igniting that flame back within you that you had managed to calm down.

Quickly unlocking your phone, you went to your FaceTime app, clicking the contact labeled “Mines💍🩷”. It rang twice before his face popped up on the screen. You were angled down which told you his phone was in his lap, both of his hands working on his game controller.

“Hey baby. Lunch time?”

You sighed, leaning on your palm. “Yeah. I just finished my presentation. Nailed it like always.”

He smiled. “I knew you would. You’ve been working really hard on it. I’m proud of you.”

His praise made you giggle, kicking your feet. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without your support. And my coworkers too. Anyway, what are you up to?”

“Playing some COD with Taehyung and Jimin. I was about to heat up some leftovers. Have you eaten your lunch yet? Ah! Come on, man!” His outburst made you smile, your eyes going to the veins in his arms that bulged with his movement. Those veins…….they bulged the same way whenever he’d choke you.

Looking around your office but finding no one around, you leaned closer to your phone to whisper, “baby…..I’m so horny.”

Your husband smirked, not taking his eyes off the television. Fucking tease….

“Oh yeah? Sounds like a problem for after work.”

Huffing, you said, “when I get home, you’re gonna get it.”

The smirk never dropped from his face. “I can’t wait.”

You were surprised the cops didn’t pull you over from how you were speeding home. Not even rush hour traffic could stop you from getting home. You weren’t even sure you were parked correctly but you couldn’t think about that now.

Rushing into your apartment building, you sped walked to the elevator, almost breaking the button from how hard you pressed it. Ugh! Aren’t elevators supposed to be faster than stairs? You would take the stairs but you didn’t want to tire your legs out right now. That was for later.

Why is it that when you were in a rush, unlocking your door became harder than trying to sleep after fresh braids?

You finally got the code right, throwing the door open and entering your apartment. You didn’t even remove your heels, tossing your bag on the table next to the door before rushing into the living room where your husband was sitting.

He heard the slam of the door but didn’t move. This was gonna be fun.

He didn’t greet you like he always did, not wanting his friends to know you were home. He just glanced back at you before turning his attention back to the screen

You rounded the couch to stand next to him. Your eyes took in his relaxed frame—he was manspreading(because why wouldn’t he be?)in a pair of shorts and still no shirt. His hair was pushed back with a hair band and looked slightly damp, telling you he had showered after you left. Probably a cold one.

He was wearing his headset too, one side pushed behind his ear. That told you he was definitely playing online with his friends. Normally, you’d convince him to stop playing so that you could have your way with him. You just didn’t really like the idea of Jungkook’s friends hearing you two get it on. Ironic considering you two have fucked in both of his friend’s houses before with them just a room away but that was different! This would be intentionally not trying to hide it. Could you live with that inevitable awkwardness afterwards?

Eh. You’ve sat through worse. Nothing would ever be as awkward as that day when your cousin aired out all of the family business a few thanksgivings ago. Even you spit out your lemonade at hearing that your aunt was lying about who her eldest son’s daddy was. Needless to say, family functions are now a thing of the past.

Toxic family aside, there was someone way less toxic looking delectable below you and you weren’t about to waste the opportunity. Taehyung and Jimin would get over it.

Stepping over his legs, you nestled yourself between his knees, pushing his hands that were settled over his crotch out of the way.

You’d wipe that cheeky smirk off his face.

Grabbing at the band of his shorts, you didn’t even need his help to yank them down, a sudden burst of strength coursing through your veins. His cock was already half hard, the cold air brushing against him making him shiver.

You didn’t even bother trying to stroke him to hardness, leaning forward to engulf his cock in your mouth. You weren’t even trying to get him to cum off head, you just wanted him hard before you rode him until his pelvis collapsed.

You felt his thighs tense under your hands, his own hands still working over his controller that he had moved to hold against his chest. The sound of gunshots and the dialogue of his video game didn’t sound nearly as loud as the sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Drool seeped out of the sides of your mouth, dripping down to his balls.

He covered a moan with a cough when you took him all the way to the hilt. Fuck, your mouth felt amazing. He was actually surprised you dropped to your knees when you knew he was online. Then again, he bent you over Taehyung’s bathroom sink less than 2 weeks ago so exhibitionism wasn’t completely off the table for you two. He also knew you hated orgasm denial more than anything unless in an intimate setting. You must have been fuming in the car. He knew from the moment you sent him that “on my way” text that you were going to pounce him. He loved how much you wanted him all the time. It made him feel so loved. And he loved you with everything he had.

You were it for him. He wanted to be with you forever—just basking in your affection and creating some of his happiest memories with you.

The sex was a plus too.

At a harsh suck, he tossed his head back, accidentally letting out a groan.

“You good, man? Stub your toe again?” Taehyung joked.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Yeah. This coffee table sucks.” He looked down at you, your eyes already focused on him. He had to bite his lip just to prevent another moan from slipping—your eyes were watering, mascara smudging at the edges, mouth stretched around his girth.

You were a dream.

Pulling off his cock, you inhaled a deep breath. Now it was slicked with your spit, pulsing and rock hard. Just how you liked it.

Standing to your feet, you kicked off your heels while lifting your skirt to yank your panties off.

Jungkook watched you with hungry eyes, the tattoo that spread across your thigh making him wanting to sink his teeth into the fat. Maybe later. He used one hand to push his shorts the rest of the way off, kicking them away.

Once your panties were out of the way, you moved back towards him. You pushed his hands out of the way, moving to straddle his lap. Your perfume invaded his senses, his own arousal beginning to overwhelm him. He just wanted to completely wrap himself in you like a blanket.

Reaching behind you, you grabbed his cock, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your clenching entrance.

He had to hold his breath when you began sliding down. You were absolutely soaked, walls feeling tighter than ever. You took in deep breaths, forcing your walls to relax to be able to take him in.

An airy moan came from you once he was fully inside, the curved shaft pressing right into that spot inside of you. You felt like you could cum just from this but that wouldn’t be as satisfying.

“What was that? You aren’t playing a game on your phone too, are you? I will never understand why you do that.” Jimin said with a sigh and Jungkook could picture him shaking his head.

“What are you even doing? You haven’t moved and they’re ambushing us!” Taehyung called.

Jungkook rolled his neck, blinking his eyes a few times to try and focus back on the screen but you were obscuring his view. And what a view you were.

Gripping the couch behind his shoulders, you began a fast pace on his lap, the meeting of your thighs against his lap sounding similar to the gunshots on the television. He quickly disabled his mic, tossing his head back to let out the loudest moan ever. You were right there with him.

“Fuck.” He cursed, abandoning his controller to grip the fat of your ass. He couldn’t even think about this video game right now or the fact that his kill streak was tanking. The way your walls were hugging his cock were driving him crazy. To be honest, he was feeling desperate ever since you left the house. He had to take a cold shower just to will his erection away. He could have jerked off but why would he when he had you? He could suffer for a few hours if it meant you’d come home and ride his dick like this.

One of your hands went to hold the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “I love this cock so fucking much. I’ve been wanting it all day.” You growled in his ear, slamming down on him harder when you felt him land a slap to your ass.

“Yeah?” He breathily said and you could hear that stupid smirk in his voice. “T-then ride it.” Any other time, you would have teased how he stuttered but with your orgasm just a hairs width away, you ignored it. You’d tease him later.

Adjusting yourself until you were balanced on your feet, you began to throw your ass back on his cock—lifting yourself until just the tip was inside and then taking him right back in.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Where are you? We’re losing!”

“Bro! Throw a grenade or something!”

He ignored the call of his friends, controller long abandoned on the floor, both hands now on your hips to give you help you didn’t need. If anything, it was more to ground himself. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck, the AC doing nothing to cool down his hot skin. The hand at the back of his neck felt like fire, your nails digging into his nape.

You yanked his head back, your own blurry eyes meeting his. His eyelashes fluttered, trying to stay open—he felt so close, like he was about to combust.

He looked so sexy like this; sweaty and breathless, mouth dropped open and eyes unfocused. His neck and chest were splotched in red, chest heaving from exertion.

You could eat him up.

Leaning forward, you latched onto that spot on the side of his neck, biting and sucking at it until a purple marked formed.

“I’m cumming, baby. Gonna cum all over your cock….” You whispered against his throat, that band that’s already been tight the entire day finally about to snap.

Your walls squeezed around him so tightly that it almost hurt, your juices dripping down his shaft and there was no doubt the couch would need to be cleaned.

One of his hands left your hips to wrap around your throat, dark eyes staring directly into yours. His gaze, along with the pressure of his hand squeezing your neck made that band snap, your orgasm hitting you harder than Chicago air in the winter.

Even so, you didn’t stop bouncing on his cock, wanting more and more. Your nails dug into his neck and the couch, mouth dropping open as your eyes rolled in your head. The pleasure traveled up your back and to the tips of your toes, your clit meeting his pelvis with every bounce, the bundle of nerves feeling a thousand times more sensitive than usual.

Jungkook wasn’t too far behind you.

“Oh my god. I’m cumming.”

You continued your pace, ass starting to hurt from where it connected with his thighs but the pain only pushed you harder.

“Fill me up, baby. Give it to me.” A little smile spread across your face, purposefully clenching your walls around him to milk him of his orgasm. Your ran your fingers through his hair, pushing his hairband and headset off until they were just hanging around his neck.

His eyes closed, his orgasm finally washing over him. Both the hand on your throat and the one on your hip gripping you tightly. The lack of air pushed you right into another orgasm, this one just as powerful as your first. Your legs shook from the force, your bounces slowing to a stop and your knees meeting the cushions of the couch.

Jungkook groaned, finally opening his eyes. “Did you just cum again?”

A new surge of energy rushed over him, the urge to cum again clouding him. Reaching for your blouse, he ripped it open, the buttons popping off.

“Jungkook!” You squealed but he ignored you, pulling the insulting fabric off your arms and tossing it on the floor. That left you in your bra, the cups holding the fullness of your breasts in the best of ways. His hands went to the latch on your back, undoing it with practiced ease. You helped him remove it, your nipples hardening once the cool air hit them. You also took his headset off his neck, placing it on the couch next to you.

He cupped both of them in his hands, squishing them together. He hummed, burying his face in the soft flesh and motor boating you. You giggled at his antics, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love these.” He sucked both of your nipples into his mouth, a shiver going down your spine. “You’re so sexy.” He nipped and licked at the supple skin, sucking at it harshly so he could see the bruises against your dark skin.

You began moving your hips against him again, humming as slight overstimulation melted back into pleasure.

“Feels so good. I love your cock.”

“I know you do. You’re gripping me so tight.” He murmured against your nipples, his eyes lifting to look at you.

Your legs felt a bit weak so all you could manage was a gentle bounce but that wasn’t enough for Jungkook right now.

Abandoning your breasts, he moved to grip at your ass again, helping you move back and forth on his cock. Your back arched, chest pressing closer to his face, his mouth still licking at your nipples.

You moaned as his shaft stroked at your walls, your cunt feeling sensitive but you still wanted more.

“Baby….more.”

Grabbing you by your ass, he hauled you up and stood to his feet. Your arms went around his shoulders, legs draped over his elbows.

Now this was your absolute favorite position. His cock hit you in all the right spots like this and the display of strength made you wetter than ever.

“Ready?” He asked.

You hugged him tighter. “Fuck me, baby.”

Getting a good grip on your ass, he began fucking you back and forth on his cock, this position causing the head of his cock to read even deeper inside of you. The pace he set was brutal, his own hips moving to meet you, fingers digging harshly into your ass.

“Oooooo….fffff-shit! Jungkook!” Your nails dug into his shoulders, toes curling at the euphoric pleasure.

“That’s right. Say my name. Whose fucking pussy is this?” His gruff voice growled in your ear. You moaned his name, syllables slurring together as your brain turned to mush. You were so close again already.

“Fuck! This fucking pussy is so good.” He tossed his head back, moving you harder against him, your walls trying to suck him back in with every thrust.

Your legs dangled uselessly over his arms, head lolling weakly against his shoulder. He could feel drool wetting his shoulder. It gave him a boost of confidence. Let him know he was fucking you stupid, just how he liked it.

“I’m cumming again.” You warned breathlessly, your hot breath blowing over his neck.

He didn’t need you to announce that, already feeling your walls tighten around him.

“Do it. Cum on my cock, princess.” As if his words were a trigger to your body, you came around him, letting out a high whine. “Good girl.”

He slowed his hips to a stop, ignoring your whine of discontent. He lowered your legs to the ground, holding you up when your knees buckled.

“Turn around.” He said but didn’t really wait for you to follow, flipping you around himself. Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he bent you at the waist, kicking your legs apart. You reached up to place your hand over his, the other going to your knee.

He pumped his cock a few times, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing inside. You sighed.

Grabbing your skirt that was still around your waist and keeping the other hand on the back of your neck, he began moving his hips. Your head dropped forward, nails digging into your own skin as his cock bullied your walls.

“Oh my god, yes baby. Harder.” You moaned.

He obliged, moving his other hand to your shoulder and beginning to piston his hips in and out of you. His eyes were mesmerized by how your ass rippled against his pelvis. He could feel that pressure building in his lower tummy again.

Using his grip on you, he pulled your upper body up until your back was pressed against his chest. His hand went back around your throat, using his fingers to turn your head to the side so that he could kiss you. Your hands went to grip at both sides of his hips, digging your nails there.

Mouth hanging open, you stuck out your tongue to silently ask for something you wanted.

And of course, he knew exactly what you needed.

Gathering saliva in his mouth, he spit directly on your tongue. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, swallowing his spit and then opening your mouth again to let out a scream. He could feel your walls gripping him so tight that he had to slow down.

“Fuck. You dirty slut. You like when I spit in your mouth?” He laid a slap on the side of your thigh. Splaying his hand across your belly, he forced his way through your clenching walls. He started his pace right back up, feeling himself get closer and closer.

You began throwing your ass back against him, bringing your hand down to rub at your clit. Your fingers paired with his hand around your throat, his cock jamming into your sweet spot and the rush from him spitting in your mouth propelled you right into the strongest orgasm of your life.

Your vision spotted black, ears ringing, and muscles seizing as hot white pleasure vibrated across your entire body. Your fingers didn’t stop against your clit, the pleasure never ending.

Jungkook was also right there again, gripping you tight enough to bruise, he buried himself to the hilt, stuffing you full of his cum.

He fell back against the couch, bringing you down with him. Your body felt like jelly, energy drained and eyelids threatening to fall closed.

You felt Jungkook kiss your neck. “You okay?”

“Perfect. That felt so good.”

“Was it worth the wait?” You felt him smile against your skin, massaging at your sore legs.

“So worth it. I should go to work horny more often.”

“I agree.” His hand sneakily went between your legs to slap at your clit. You jumped at the sensation, whining and pushing his hand away.

“Stop. You menace.” He chuckled but relented, going back to massaging your sore body.

You two sat in silence for a little while, just basking in the afterglow and falling into a light doze. Jungkook forced himself to stay away, knowing he had to haul both of you to the bath.

He looked up at the television, realizing his game was still on. The screen told him that he was still online, just in the waiting room for another round.

Wait a second….

He reached for his headset on the couch, flipping it over, eyes widening at the green light that told him his mic was on. You must have accidentally turned it back on when you took it off him. Then that meant…..

Putting it back on his head, he softly said, “hyung?”

“Dude, you and your wife are freaks.” Taehyung said, sounding a little breathless.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you go offline? You didn’t have to listen.”

“Your wife has a spit kink? That’s hot.” That was Jimin.

“You too? I didn’t take you as a voyeur.” Jungkook joked. Yes he did. Even Jimin’s partner knew that. Jungkook’s heard one too many of Jimin’s drunken stories of him and his partner’s escapades.

“Oh yeah. Remember when you two fucked in Taehyung’s bathroom 2 weeks ago? My partner and I were walking by. It was hot.”

“Wait what? You did what in my bathroom?”

“I gotta go. Bye.”

“Jeon Jungkook!”

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts imagines #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #seokjin smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #bts x black reader #black representation

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 5 months

Note

So I just read your Muzan and Gojo fluff and loved them so much! Do you think it would be possible for me to request something like the Muzan one where the reader joins Sukuna in becoming a cursed spirit, but they're on opposing ends? Like lovers that are enemies kinda thing 👀

Thank you for the kind words~!

As for your request, I had to do a deep dive into spirits as it's been a hot minute since I've seen anything JJK story wise. In that research, following your request was a bit difficult but I still hope you enjoy it nonetheless~

For all readers: Please keep in mind the process I will use is not canonical in any way and is merely me making this up for the sake of the story.

This may be a bit cheesy, but you know what? We're here to enjoy and indulge in all things.

Should you desire a part 2, do let me know~

Title: To Live with You

Characters: Sukuna x m!reader

Contains: fluff, human transformation, Sukuna is in Yuuji's body

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Cold...It's so cold...

It felt like ice was coursing through your veins, but you couldn't fight it. Everything was dark, your senses dulled to nothing save for the blistering chill that seemed to spiral through your body.

"I'm almost done. I know, it must hurt."

That voice...whose was it? It sounded so familiar yet so foreign. It didn't help with how fuzzy it sounded, how muffled and distant it was.

You wanted to agree that it did hurt, but your mouth wouldn't budge, no part of you would no matter how hard you tried. You only wished you could remember how you got here so you could try and steady your heart.

Except your heart was already still.

That had to be it. You had to be dead, right? You never knew death would be so cold. Strangely enough, it wasn't terrible. If you got cold enough, everything would numb up, and you would eventually pass, surely.

But it never came, and you continued to lay in frozen limbo.

"Just one more vial...and it will be complete..."

Vial? Complete? Just what was this voice talking about?

Any thought you had would come to a screeching halt as whatever icy sensation you had to give way to a roaring flame. Your body felt like it was engulfed in heat, like you were dropped into a pit of fire. Compared to the numbing cold, you wanted to scream out with how this felt. Going from frozen to blazing was a shock, one that practically shook you out of the comatose sleep you were in.

Eyes snapping open, you sat up, sweat rolling down your face as you panted heavily, gripping at the fabric of your shirt that resided over your chest. You could once again feel the pounding of your heart, though it felt unknown, as if it wasn't meant to beat again. Your vision struggled to focus, your body unsure of its state. You felt wrong, but it was his voice that brought you back.

"Y/N..."

It took you a moment, but once you were able to meet the red eyed gaze of the King of Curses, you knew you were safe. In fact, your memories came flooding back.

The long conversations you two had, the uncertainty, the confusion, fear, acceptance, it all came back to you like a ton of bricks.

He had transformed you as promised.

You instantly wrapped your arms around Sukuna's shoulders, pulling him into a deep kiss, which he returned without hesitation. It lasted longer than any other kiss you had before, but you deserved it for the hell you endured to get to where you were now.

With this cursed transformation, you could live by Sukuna's side.

Except for one thing.

"We need to head back," he breathed once you two broke the kiss. "It's almost sunrise."

It was only now that you realized you weren't in your bed, but instead in a desolate alleyway, free from any peering eyes, but his words made the dull ache return to your body.

"Sukuna--"

"The change is faint for now, but you need to work on surpressing the energy okay?"

"Can't we just run--"

"You knew well what you were signing up for." Sukuna's voice was firm, but careful. He was right, and you knew it. Now, you had to fight more than ever to keep yourself hidden. The change was risky, but you did so to be with the King of Curses as long as you could. "Remember, I won't hold back if we ever need to fight."

You gave a small chuckle, standing on shaky legs. "Try me. With this new change, surely I can handle you."

"Now don't get cocky," Sukuna teased with a smirk, standing with you and holding you steady. "Let's get back before it's too late."

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

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taexual · 11 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 8 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, angst, SLOW BURN

words: 10.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 8 ► let’s search the skies for a while, you and i

Stockholm replaced Copenhagen as the next location for Rated Riot’s European Tour, and it was Day 2 of the 14 days that Sid had given Jungkook to win this bet.

Because of that, Jungkook found himself living in a whirlpool of contradictions.

When you were in the room with him, the bet was all he could think about. It’s what held him back from approaching you, what stopped him from talking to you—out of paradoxical fear that this would count towards winning the bet, but not towards getting back together with you.

And when you weren’t in the room with him, all he could think about was that you weren’t in the room with him.

It was like this right now.

Earlier today, Yoongi had suggested that everyone met up for dinner at a high-class restaurant on the Strandvägen promenade after the show tonight. It made sense for everyone to agree – the band had a day off tomorrow and the restaurant was, supposedly, at a very beautiful spot – and Jungkook figured everyone would come.

Everyone did come. Except you.

And now thoughts of you made their way into his mind while his body winced at every slight noise, every minuscule movement that he noticed out of the corner of his eye, thinking—hoping—that it was you entering the room.

He could remember seeing you at the show—actually, it was difficult for him to see anyone but you when he was on stage; he’d just noticed how impossibly captivating your eyes looked with the stage lights reflected in them as you watched Rated Riot perform—but he wasn’t sure where you had gone afterwards.

He leaned over to Namjoon, who was sitting next to him at the restaurant table, and whispered awkwardly, “so, um, I thought everyone was coming to this dinner.”

Namjoon forced himself to look away from the streetlights reflected in the bay as the band and their team dined on the waterfront. He was still smiling, dazed by the overwhelming beauty of the place, as he murmured, “everyone did come.”

“No,” Jungkook objected before Namjoon could look away. “No, uh, see, our manager didn’t.”

“Oh, Luna said that she had something to do,” the producer replied. “But I think she mentioned joining us later.”

Jungkook knew immediately that that wouldn’t happen. In fact, as he scanned the table for your friends—Luna or Maggie—he glanced at Yoongi, who’d overheard the brief exchange, and shook his head when Jungkook’s gaze landed on him.

The whole band knew you well enough by now: if you weren’t here from the start, you weren’t coming. Luna probably only said that to Namjoon, because you asked her to.

Figuring there had to be a reason why you didn’t come – it was early morning back home, so it was possible that the label had contacted you, although Jungkook doubted it; they weren’t the type to call when things were going well – he looked over to his other side where Jude, Sid, and Minjun were sitting.

The three of them had already drunk a considerable amount of brännvin—the more it burned their throats, the more they seemed to enjoy it, the psychopaths—so they were probably unaware of how loud their conversation was.

He thought this was the perfect opportunity to slip out.

Granted, he probably shouldn’t have worried about his friends catching him leaving – they’d assume he was doing it to win the bet. And perhaps he should have deliberately tried to draw more attention to himself, to show off that he was going to win.

But he snuck out of the restaurant because of you, not because of the bet.

He didn’t think this through very well, however. A taxi van had dropped everyone off at the restaurant earlier, and the ride hadn’t taken very long. But, on foot, he was forced to walk for at least fifty minutes until he reached the parking lot where the tour buses were.

He tried to breathe in through his nose and out his mouth, so it wouldn’t look like he’d just run a marathon—although the muscles in his calves certainly felt like it.

He opened the door of the bus and peered inside. As suspected, you were half-lying in your bunk, laptop on your knees, airpods in your ears.

He entered and closed the door behind him with an accidental slam. There was no one else on the bus, but you didn’t lift your head; not even as he walked down the lane between the bunks, stopping in front of yours. Whatever you were listening to had to be loud enough to drown out the noise he was making.

“What are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to touch your shoulder. Your violent flinch at his touch made him flinch as he nearly tumbled backwards into Hoseok’s bunk.

“Jesus! Fuck!” you cried in horror, yanking the airpods out of your ears. “Stop doing that! What—why are you here?”

Straightening up, his eyes still wide, he replied, “I-I came here to ask you that!”

You kept your eyes on him, your heart still startled. “You came here from Strandvägen?”

“Yes.”

“On foot?”

“Yes.”

You knew Strandvägen was quite far from here, but you didn’t know Stockholm well enough to determine if his answer was plausible. However, his chest was rising and falling at an irregular pace, even though he was trying very hard to appear calm and relaxed, and that was a clear sign of physical exertion.

Still not blinking—as if he’d fade away if you closed your eyes even for a second—you furrowed your brows. “Why?”

“To ask you why you weren’t with us,” he replied simply.

Even more confused, you flipped your laptop screen shut and placed the device behind you.

Jungkook took this as an invitation to sit down next to you (really, he would have sat on the floor at this point, his legs were burning). You watched him and thought about what to ask next.

“You could have used the phone,” you said, figuring there was nothing you could ask him that would make you feel satisfied with his answer.

“I wanted to see your face,” he replied, “when you explained why you made me walk all the way over here.”

Despite the humorous twinkle in his eyes, you felt accused and defended, “I did not make you do anything.”

“You weren’t at the restaurant,” he argued. “So, yeah. You did.”

Averting your gaze, you ran your fingers over the frayed edges of the bedspread underneath the two of you.

“You shouldn’t have bothered coming here,” you began. He ignored the condescending tone in your voice, knowing it was there to make you feel better about having to explain something personal—something you’d undoubtedly categorised under ‘complaining’ and, therefore, would regret as soon as you talked about it. “I didn’t come with you guys, because I’m not really feeling up for socialising tonight. That’s all.”

He figured as much, but he knew that was not all. The pain in his legs eased a little, now that he could see that he hadn’t walked here for nothing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you replied—a reflex—and Jungkook had to swallow his frustration. “Just not feeling my best. But I’m fine.”

You seemed unaware of your own contradictory words, but he chose not to point it out, saying instead, “Luna told Namjoon you were busy.”

“Yeah,” you replied with an uncomfortable twitch of your lip. “I asked her to. I didn’t want him to pity me. He’s very sensitive. Makes me feel bad if I upset him.”

Weirdly happy to hear that, Jungkook gave you a small, teasing smile. “But you don’t mind upsetting me?”

“You came all this way,” you replied, meeting his eye and smiling back—but your gaze remained vacant. “I couldn’t just lie to you. But, really, I’m fine. You should go back.”

Funny how you managed to assure him you weren’t lying and then proceeded to lie all in one breath.

“I’m not going back without you,” he said, his voice rougher. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, and then again, “nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Jungkook knew you never admitted you were tired unless it was an excuse to hide what you were really feeling. And, frankly, he was starting to grow really annoyed. Not because you were refusing to tell him what was going on, but because you were treating him like a stranger.

He’d known you for seven years at this point. He could tell when you were pretending.

And yet, he hadn’t tried to pry the truth out of you in years—he couldn’t even remember what methods he used to use back when you were together.

And he suddenly felt guilty, too, because you spent so much time making sure everyone around you was doing well—citing your job as the reason—but he’d never really asked you about you in return.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he mumbled—the words he’d heard you say to him hundreds of times sounded awkward when he repeated them. “You always tell me that. It’s only fair that I reciprocate.”

“See, but I have to listen to you,” you replied softly, not meaning much by it. You just wanted to relieve him of the responsibility he seemed to think he had to sit here and listen to you. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re feeling your best.”

“Well, I’m making sure you’re feeling your best because that’s what I want to do,” he countered. “Not because I have to.”

Your eyes widened in realisation. “I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you—”

“I get it,” he cut you off. “Talk to me.”

You sighed. There were only so many times you could slither out of answering questions without it becoming frustrating. In your personal experience, most people rarely persisted long enough for you to say “I’m fine” more than twice in a row.

Jungkook, however, sat on your bunk, stiff as a statue. Determined, clearly, to stay here until you talked to him.

You knew you’d have to. And, really, you weren’t purposefully hiding anything. You just didn’t think this was something that you should have bothered other people with. Especially Jungkook, who already had enough on his plate from performing almost every night.

“It’s nothing,” you said—always the introductory phrase in your sentences. “I was on the phone with my mum after the show—”

Jungkook reacted immediately, “isn’t it… very early over there?”

“It was a little after four in the morning when she called, yeah,” you said. “That’s why I knew right away that something bad had to have happened.”

He felt an unexpected pang in his chest. Forgetting the bet completely, he worried about something else for a second—another thing that your mum could have told you about him.

It wasn’t anything bad per se, he knew you wouldn’t be angry if you found out—he hoped not—but you might not like the fact that he wasn’t the one who told you.

But it couldn’t be. You appeared tired, not flabbergasted. You looked surprised to see him, but not enough to toss a flowerpot at his head.

He shuffled on the bunk, and tried to ask, “what, um—what happened?”

“It’s my brother,” you said with a sigh so deep, it drowned out the sound of Jungkook’s relieved exhale. “He got—he had gone on a trip with friends. But then he suddenly returned home with a broken leg. That bonehead thought it was just a sprain, even though he couldn’t walk at all, so he didn’t go to the hospital right away. And now the leg is, apparently, swollen and blue.”

Jungkook cringed at the image.

“Yeah,” you replied to his expression. “Anyway, mum needed his insurance information. It’s not even a big deal, just a broken bone, he’ll be fine. It’s just that my mum was crying like it was the end of the world, and now I’m—I don’t know. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have come.”

So close. You’d almost finished the whole story without discrediting your feelings again.

Jungkook tried to – quickly – find a way to bring you back to your previous state of mind, “no—it’s—is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, they were at the hospital when I talked to her,” you replied. “The x-ray showed a common fracture, so he won’t need any surgery or anything.”

“That’s good. And your mum?”

“Oh, she was still hysterical when she hung up,” you said. “She only ended the call, because the nurse came to talk to her.”

This was typical of your mum, who loved her children more than anything—and now that you were rarely home because of your job, she focused a lot of that love on her youngest son.

Naturally, a broken bone was a disaster for her.

And she probably didn’t even realise how much her crying would affect you. No one liked to see their mother cry—it was possibly one of the worst sights a child could endure—but you’d always been particularly sensitive to it.

You had once told him that your biggest dream was to never see your mum cry again. And you put in great effort to make this dream come true ever since your parents’ divorce was finalised and your mother began to get herself back together: shopping trips, beauty salons, and holidays in her dream countries.

Jungkook had never heard anyone’s biggest dream be about someone else. He didn’t think he even believed you at first, but several late-night phone calls when you were pacing in your room, nearly ripping your hair out, because your mum wasn’t feeling well again, convinced him that you’d meant it.

Really, he admired you for this. But now he was clenching his jaw, because he understood where your mum was coming from, but he still thought it was unfair to burden you with this when she knew that the sound of her tears would haunt your dreams.

“He’s her youngest kid,” Jungkook rationalised in spite of himself.

“He’s seventeen,” you retorted irritably. “Surely, that’s old enough to develop a brain.”

“How did he break his leg anyway?”

“He told mum he was climbing a tree, and a branch broke off, so he fell,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know who climbs trees when they’re travelling with friends, but I do know that he was drinking, and he didn’t want mum to know. As for the thing he fell from, I can’t say anything about that. But clearly, he hit his head pretty badly on his way down, too, the absolute idiot.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small snicker here. “Did she believe him about the tree?”

“He’s done dumber things, so I wouldn’t blame her,” you said. “And she still told me not to yell at him.”

“I second that.”

You groaned, disagreeing with him just as you’d disagreed with your mum before, “he was stupid enough to think his obviously broken leg would heal on its’ own and did not go to the hospital, and now he’s made mum cry—”

“He made a dumb mistake,” Jungkook’s calm voice cut you off. “I’m sure he knows and blames himself for it.”

Thrown off by his composure, you mumbled, “he’d better.”

“I’m sorry,” he said—the word sudden, almost inappropriate.

You looked at him. “Hm? For what?”

“That your mum cried, and you were on your own in a foreign country.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling from his face to the bedspread underneath you.

You didn’t have to tell him much, he knew your family very well: with only one parent to look after two children, you had to step up and take on the role of the other parent to your little brother and be the helping hand to replace the missing partner for your mum once your parents divorced.

Even before they divorced, actually—but Jungkook didn’t know much about that. You never talked about your family before your parents finally split up, but he had an inkling that things had been bad for a while. You had hardly any contact with your father and that had to come from somewhere.

Being a younger brother himself, he’d always felt this misplaced guilt in situations like this. As if exploiting older children in favour of the younger ones was a common practice of all parents, and he, too, received preferential treatment compared to his older brother.

But he didn’t think he did. He knew he didn’t—his parents called him and his brother the same number of times every day, even if Jungkook couldn’t always pick up. They scolded and praised them equally.

And he knew it was different for you. Your mum called you and asked how you were and what was new with you, but the real reason for her call was your brother and the new problems he was causing.

Jungkook suspected that she did this because you’d never told her that you minded being a parent to a child you didn’t have. You never minded being needed, being everyone else’s shoulder to lean on.

You were you.

You had everything under control, always. You were the only clear head in your household of chaos. Sometimes, even in his household of chaos.

You had taught your mum years ago not to ask how you were feeling, because two things would happen if she did: either she would worry, or you’d have to lie to her so she wouldn’t. You didn’t want either.

So, she knew better than to ask you too much, and she thought—or rather, hoped—that if you really needed help, if you were really struggling, you’d be the one to call her.

At least that’s what you’d told her you’d do.

The fact that she accepted this arrangement so easily, however, broke Jungkook’s heart, because he knew that if you were going through a really difficult time, you wouldn’t even think of calling anyone.

It was a miracle you even admitted what was wrong tonight. You’d been fluent in repressing your feelings and emotions for so long that Jungkook felt a little dizzy hearing you talk now.

“I’m fine,” you repeated as the silence in your bunk became too heavy. “Really. You shouldn’t have—”

“Do you want to walk back with me?” Jungkook asked.

Like Luna, he knew when to push, but he also knew when to stop. When to demand answers and when to distract you.

With Luna, that was understandable. She’d been your closest friend for years. But Jungkook made you watch him in stunned silence for a minute.

It shouldn’t have been surprising how well he knew you, but it was. And as you looked at him, the unexpected lightness in your chest made the inside of the bus spin a little.

Objectively, Jungkook knew that everyone would be done eating by the time you got back to the restaurant. But he suggested this anyway.

And, honestly, you knew that, too. But you still wanted to go with him.

“I would,” you said, your mind whirring with all the reasons why you shouldn’t go, “but we’re probably parked very far from Strandvägen. I don’t know how you walked here in the first place.”

“Let’s go,” he decided, standing up from your bunk.

“Huh? I just said—”

“You said you would. So, let’s go.”

“But I also said—”

“If distance is the only thing stopping you,” he cut in again, “then remember that I performed a whole gig tonight, walked over five kilometres to find you, and I’m still willing to walk back. So, give me a little break and come with me willingly, okay?”

“Hmm,” you ran your tongue over your lips to hide your smile at his phrasing. “And, uh… if I don’t?”

Jungkook was completely serious when he replied, “I will carry you if I have to.”

You immediately stopped smiling and narrowed your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge—?”

Noticing the almost predatory look in his eyes, you leapt out of your bunk.

“It’s not,” you said, grabbing your phone from the bed. “I’m coming. Let’s go.”

When you and Jungkook left the parking lot, there were barely any people around—apart from a few cars here and there—which was understandable, considering it was almost three in the morning in the middle of the week.

You tended to get lost in your job a lot of the time, so you took a lot of it for granted sometimes. But it was in times like this: on dark, empty streets somewhere in Europe, that you remembered you weren’t working with regular people. You worked with artists. Musicians.

And walking back to the restaurant on Strandvägen—which should have closed hours ago, but that’s another perk of travelling with rockstars: they had the influence and the money to change the working hours of all the places they went to—you were hyper-aware of all this.

And, for a second, you felt almost intimidated. You’d known Jungkook for so long, but now you realised that he wasn’t just Jungkook, your client. Or even Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend.

This was also Jungkook, Rated Riot’s vocalist, strolling through Stockholm, hours after his concert.

But then he turned to look at you—his gaze so warm that you could see it, feel it, even in the dark of the night, under the fluorescent streetlights—and all of those feelings dissipated as quickly as they’d appeared.

He was back to being someone you’d known for almost a decade. Someone who knew things about you that you’d never shared with anyone else.

“So,” he spoke up as the two of you walked. “Is Kai still playing basketball?”

The mention of your brother made your stomach tighten again.

“Yeah,” you replied. “He doesn’t like it, though. But I’m pushing him to keep playing. He’s good at it.”

“Well, he’s tall,” Jungkook remarked.

“That, too,” you agreed. “But he’s also smart. And cunning when he needs to be. This could be his ride to college, he’s skilled enough to get a scholarship.”

“But he doesn’t want to keep playing?”

“I don't know. This is Kai. He doesn’t want to do regular, everyday things. He wants to skydive and eat cockroaches, and stuff.” You glanced at him before adding, “kind of like you, I guess.”

He was almost ready to argue, but ended up chuckling when your eyes met.

“Okay. Yeah,” he concurred. “I guess that’s true.”

“That’s why I’m relieved you guys are no longer in touch.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wait, I’m the bad influence?”

“You can be,” you said, a meaningful glint in your eyes.

He watched you for a minute, enjoying the moment and your gentle features as you responded to his smile with one of your own. Then a dog barked somewhere in the distance, breaking the spell, and you both looked down at the pavement again.

“So, uh, if not basketball,” Jungkook said, “what does he want to do after school? Last time we talked, he wanted to be a ninja.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that was Kai in his Naruto phase. He’s into Chainsaw Man now, so I’m afraid to ask.

He laughed, clearly understanding where your apprehension was coming from.

“It could be worse,” he said. “At least he’s reading. Even if it’s manga.”

“Yeah.” You lingered on the last vowel as you sighed. “I wish it didn’t influence him this much, though. But then I feel guilty, sometimes, that I’m forcing him to only do the things that are beneficial for him instead of letting him explore other interests and hobbies.”

Jungkook nodded—indicating that he was listening—and suddenly walked to your other side. Growing confused, you felt him lightly touch your hip and nudge you both out of the way of an oncoming bike—which, at two-thirty at night, was surprising, even in a capital city.

Before you could react, he seamlessly returned to your previous conversation. “You just want what’s best for him.”

“I—yeah, uh—I do,” you said, trying to determine if your heart rate increased because of the unexpected bike, or because Jungkook was still walking right next to you, his arm brushing against yours with every step. Crossing your arms over your chest—in an attempt to shield yourself from the chilly night and your own warm chest—you added, “still, I feel like I’m hindering his growth as a person.”

Jungkook looked at you. Because your eyes were focused on the ground, he allowed his gaze to linger longer.

“But that’s not something you should be worrying about,” he said. He couldn’t help it; he felt offended—and hurt—on your behalf. “You’re not his—you’re his sister.”

“I know that,” you replied. “But he was three when dad left for the first time. He doesn’t even remember there ever being a dad. Mom and I are all he’s got. And, you know. Like a true father, I’m pushing him to fulfil my dreams and play in the NCAA.”

Jungkook found several points in your statement that he wanted to address, but he ended up focusing on your half-joking remark, “you wanted to be a basketball player?”

“No,” you said and he lifted his eyebrows higher. “But I’m committed to my role as the father. A father who desperately wants his son to succeed until the son says, ‘it’s not my dream, dad, it’s yours’. You know? Like in any normal family.”

Jungkook snickered—somehow sadly—but did not play along with your joke. Both of you knew that was just a TV trope you were using to divert the topic.

“You don’t need a father to have a normal family,” he said. “The three of you are perfectly normal together.”

You swallowed as your heart switched from beating three times faster than necessary to nearly stopping altogether.

“That’s true,” you said quietly. “But thank you for saying that. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

“That’s because you’re so used to thinking that your family is different,” he theorised. “Growing up, I thought so, too. My house was the only one on the whole block with over a dozen people living in it. No one else lived with their aunts and uncles.”

You smiled, remembering the absolute chaos that thrived in his family home—a new argument, a new problem every day. It was lovely, though. Before meeting Jungkook and witnessing his life firsthand, you never imagined that families could be so close.

“Not a quiet moment there,” you said.

“Yeah,” he nodded, stuffing his hands in his front pockets to protect them from the cold late-night breeze. “And when I lived back home, I used to kind of hate that unstoppable noise. Now I miss it.”

“Do you go back often?”

You looked at him after you asked this, and suddenly felt your breath catch in your throat as the lights from the skyscraper across the street illuminated his features. Nearly hypnotised, you followed the lights across his face as they accentuated the darkness of his hair and the lightness of the spark in his eyes.

“I—well, probably not often enough,” he replied. You looked away from him to save yourself from making very poor decisions. “But it’s not the same. My brother moved out, my parents bicker every time they speak to each other. My cousins are still louder than all hell. I… I guess it’s just my grandma, really, that I want to see right now.

“Did you call her when we were in Paris?” you asked, recalling your conversation in the taxi outside of Gare du Nord.

Jungkook swallowed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I wanted to, but, uh, she’s... well, she can’t hear very well right now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You scream for a living.”

He looked at you and retorted with exaggerated dignity, “that’s how I sing.”

“My point still stands.”

He shook his head, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“It wouldn’t matter even if that was true,” he said, and, out of the corner of your eye, you could see the smile fade from his face. “She, uh, she doesn’t always understand me. Or, remember me, actually.”

You felt three separate stabs: one in your chest, one in your stomach and one somewhere in your lungs. They left you completely breathless and absolutely speechless for a full minute. It was hard to discern which had affected you more: the realisation that his grandmother—the most lovable lady you’d ever met—was sick, or the way Jungkook looked as he said this.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. The late hour and this revelation called for hushed voices.

“Thank you,” Jungkook replied with a distracted nod. He unconsciously sped up and you had to take two steps for every one of his to catch up.

You reached a bridge when Jungkook continued, “she has better days. My aunt and uncle are looking after her right now. I asked them to call me when she has a good day, but, uh... I haven’t heard from them since we arrived in Europe.”

Struggling to keep up, you reached out a hand and gently touched his shoulder, bringing him to a full stop in the pedestrian lane of the bridge over the Tranebergssund strait.

The lights from nearby buildings reflected in the water below, and you could sense the beauty around you as you caught glimpses through your peripherals. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jungkook’s cloudy gaze.

You’ve spent over a week in Europe. You didn’t know that he was waiting to hear about his grandmother the whole time.

“That’s really unfair,” you remarked. “Your grandma loves you so much.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his sneakers, then leaned his back against the railing of the bridge. “She actually once told me I was her favourite grandson.”

You smiled at this, then teased softly, “she probably said that to all of her grandsons.”

“Okay, but to me first!”

“Okay, okay,” you agreed, chuckling. “That might be true. In any case, this is—I don’t even know what to say. How is your grandpa handling it all?”

The brief moment of lightness faded from the conversation as Jungkook inhaled deeply and looked around, searching for a distraction.

“He is, uh... coping,” he finally replied. “Never admits what he’s feeling, but his eyes always well up when he talks to her.”

“Does she remember him?” you asked.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“On good days?” you echoed his previous observation.

“Yeah. On bad days, she pretends to remember,” he explained. “On really bad days, she’s so scared of the familiar face, but unknown person, that she can’t even pretend.”

“God,” you sighed, resting your forearms on the railing. “Both of them must be in so much pain.”

Jungkook nodded slowly and turned around, mirroring your position. The two of you watched the strait in silence for a minute, observing the lights as they danced on the soft, gentle ripples on the surface of the water.

There was a storm inside of him, nothing like the peaceful water below. It was a storm he did not like to think about, a storm he tried to run away from. But with you here, he felt a little less afraid of it.

“They’ve been together for almost sixty years,” he said. “I don’t—I can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for them.”

“It sounds like a nightmare,” you admitted. “I don’t know what’s scarier: forgetting your loved ones or being forgotten by the ones you love.”

He answered without hesitation, “being forgotten. If you forget, it’s just—it gets scary sometimes, because everything seems so foreign. But most of the time, it’s just empty, I think. Quiet. You can still feel the love of the people around you even if you can’t remember who they are. But being forgotten—that—that’s just unbearable. You’re talking to someone you love so much, and t-they have no idea who you are.”

It felt like your heart was about to tear in half as you listened to the pain in his voice. You did not dare to imagine what sort of warzone his chest had become.

“How long was she sick?” you asked so quietly that the water nearly carried your words away.

“She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a year ago,” he replied. “Back then, her worst symptom was very shaky hands. She’s always been distracted and scatterbrained, so we didn’t think it was anything serious. But then she started to talk about visiting her sister who’s been dead for almost six years now, and uh… yeah.”

“Shit,” you whispered, because, for a moment, that was the only word that could capture what you were feeling.

You squeezed your eyes shut as if that would make hearing this easier. The cold wind and the raw emotion of this conversation made it all the more difficult to keep your eyes dry.

A short while later, you added shakily, “this breaks my heart, so I don’t even—I probably can’t even begin to understand what you and your family have been going through. I-I wish you’d told me.”

Jungkook looked at you, startled momentarily by your teary eyes. Then he realised that his own throat had become tight.

Turning towards you, he admitted, “I wish I had, too.”

You responded by turning to him as well.

There was a quiet moment, filled only with the wind as it moved the trees, the water, and the two of you closer to each other.

Jungkook reached for you almost instinctively. His hands were hesitant at first, unsure of how you would react. But your small nod—so small, you weren’t sure if you’d really willed your head to move—gave him permission to come closer.

He enveloped you in his embrace and exhaled so deeply that his lungs almost hollowed out when he felt you lean your head against his shoulder and slide your hands over his back.

“I-I know there’s nothing I could have done,” you whispered, “but I just—”

“You would have known,” he interrupted, tightening his grip around your waist. The side of his face was pressed against yours and you could feel every word on your temple. “That would have been enough.”

He was completely still, focused entirely on the feeling of you in his arms and the way your scent, your warmth, your touch—you—seemed to ease the pain inside of him. The way it quieted the storm, made the noise more bearable, the wind less powerful.

“I know now,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “You can come find me if you get any news, good or bad.”

Breathing unsteadily, he nodded.

You watched each other, neither one daring to move. He held you and marvelled at how he’d survived so long without the feeling of your arms around him—tentative as if you were afraid he’d disappear if you held on too tightly. As if you’d wake up and leave this—all of this—in a near-forgotten dream.

He was the one who held you tighter in turn; to show you that he was here with you. And to show himself, too.

He understood that he had to let go of you soon—to return his hands to the frigid railing of the bridge or slide them back into his pockets—but he chose to play dumb. He chose to pretend he couldn’t read the situation, so he could keep his arms around you for just a minute longer.

His grandma used to say that a hug made everything better, and for a long time, she was one of two people in his life whose hugs truly made his heart and his mind slow down.

He hadn’t been able to hug her in a while. But he was hugging the second person right now.

“Thank you,” he said, reluctantly unwrapping his arms from around you. “Promise you’ll do the same? About your brother?”

You gave him a sad smile as you took a small step back. The chill of the night felt even more intense.

“I promise I’ll try,” you said.

He smiled back, understanding that this was already a lot coming from you.

You glanced at the water once more before returning your gaze to his face as you nervously stretched your fingers.

This conversation, along with memories of his family and how much they loved each other, reminded you of many things about your relationship that you had tried to forget.

There was something else, too. Something you couldn’t forget and couldn’t escape.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

“Of course,” he replied, his body still facing yours even though you had gone back to leaning into the bridge railing.

“It’s something I’ve always wondered—actually, I tried to ask you before, but, uh, you never really told me,” you spoke, stalling, as you were too nervous to just spit it out.

“Okay,” he said patiently.

“Why are you friends with Sid and his crew?”

If Jungkook was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it as he inhaled and looked somewhere behind you. Somewhere far, far into the distance.

“You know why,” he said. “We have fun.”

“I understand that part,” you said. “They distract you from the stress. I get it. But… is that really it?”

Now he began to fidget. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he turned to face the water, then got one hand out to scratch his neck, just below his chin.

“That’s very—uh, what brought this on?” he asked, the question functioning more like a defence mechanism than a manifestation of his curiosity. “Why are you asking me that suddenly?”

“Well, because I doubt Sid has even a spoonful of emotional attachment to any of his family members,” you said. “All three of them grew up so rich that their silver spoons were golden. And you’re so different.”

Jungkook swallowed. Coming from anyone else, this question would have probably offended him, even though he understood that you merely meant his relationship with his family.

He’d been friends with Sid, Jude, and Minjun for a long time, but he sometimes wondered if they kept him around out of pity. And so, he wanted to make it clear that he was more than just Sid’s little sidekick. His errand boy.

He may not have had as much money as his friends—not yet, anyway—but now, finally, he had something that none of them did: popularity and acclaim. It pushed him forward until he could walk alongside his friends. Until, he thought, he could truly call them friends and not feel inappropriate.

They were equals now.

And still, deep down, he knew you were right. He was fundamentally different from the three of them. And you were the only person he felt comfortable admitting that to.

“Yeah, uh, I know I am,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Our differences are what initially drew me to them, I think. I was always restrained by my family and, I guess, our relative lack of money. Compared to them, I mean. Meanwhile, they could just do whatever they wanted without a single worry. Sure, they all have jobs, but it’s different for them. They know they’ll be fine even if they drink those jobs away. All of that seemed exciting and, I don’t know, invigorating to me. It still seems that way. When I say I want what they have, I don’t mean their money. I mean their freedom.”

When he paused, you nodded quietly. You could see he hadn’t finished yet.

“I feel like...” he said, his eyes cast low. “Like I don’t have to worry about the consequences of my actions, either, when I’m with them. I know I do, but it feels good to pretend for a while that I don’t.” He swallowed before continuing, “but, uh… I realise that I have certain responsibilities. I have the band. I have you. Unlike them, I can never truly be free. At the end of the night, I always go home. And my grandma is there to remind me who I really am and where I come from.”

“That’s why I asked,” you said. “It’s impossible she would approve of your friendship with them.”

“She doesn’t know about them.”

You weren’t expecting this, and you couldn’t hide your reaction as your lips parted and eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. “She—she doesn’t?”

“No,” he admitted. “I never told her. Minjun is the only one who’s been to my house, but she thought he was a classmate. Or friends with my cousins. I want her to believe that I’m friends with nice boys like me.”

An ironic smile appeared on his face as he said that last part and you couldn’t help but snicker. You wouldn’t have used this particular adjective to describe Sid or Jungkook, but you knew that, unlike Sid, Jungkook did have a different side to him. A side that he rarely showed anyone, but you remembered it in his good morning texts and goodnight kisses.

“Shouldn’t that be a sign to you that these people aren’t good for you?” you asked. “You’ve never lied to your grandma.”

Something inside him prepared to argue, but he held the urge until it dissolved in his grip. He knew you were right.

Sighing, he said, “probably,” and left it at that.

The truth was, he became friends with Sid, Jude, and Minjun, because he wanted to be like them. He wanted what they had.

But, over time, their friendship became something else. A distraction. A way to maintain his sanity. And he didn’t know how to tell you about that.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he had a fear that had ingrained itself into his mind. A fear that he’d never tried to describe before, worried that speaking it aloud would bring it to life. It would materialise around him and swallow him whole.

It was loneliness, he supposed. Or maybe just himself.

Growing up with a family so big and friends so plenty, he never learned how to be alone. He never learned what to do when it was just him and his thoughts in an empty room for an extended period of time. He didn’t know how to distract himself from all that plagued his mind.

He was afraid of silence, afraid of the way it made his mind scream at him. He was afraid of those screams—they came from a dark place deep within his subconscious.

The screams were his doubts and insecurities. His flaws and weaknesses. His anxiety and fears.

And his friends—all three of them—made sure he was never alone. They made sure there were always enough voices in the room to keep him away from his thoughts. To keep him busy, to keep his mind satisfied.

And on this night, as you watched Jungkook drift away from you while you stood on the bridge, you could sense that there was a lot he’d still left unsaid.

“Be honest, though,” you said to the faded look in his eyes. He blinked when you started to speak and returned to the moment. “Does Sid really never get on your nerves?”

His smile was sad. “He does almost every day.”

“So why do you put up with it?” you asked. “Is this distraction really worth it? This feeling of freedom.”

Jungkook sighed. Sid wasn’t worth it. The rational part of him knew that much. Sometimes, Sid was louder than his own thoughts, and that was hardly better. But without Sid…

A silent minute later, you answered for him, “it’s the rest of them, isn’t it? You think if you cut Sid off, Jude and Minjun will leave with him.”

“I know they will leave with him.”

Uncertain how he’d take this, you asked awkwardly, “would that… really be such a bad thing?”

“I’ve known them since I was a kid,” Jungkook said as a way of answering.

“Well,” you clicked your tongue. “That sounds a little like an unhealthy attachment.”

He lowered his head. He knew that he wasn’t the best judge of what was healthy and what wasn’t, but even he could tell that his friendship with Sid had taken a turn for the worse. And still, he’s known Sid and the rest of his friends for years.

“There were good moments, though,” he said, his tone hopeful. “Sid wasn’t always this... obnoxious.”

You assumed as much; otherwise, Jungkook wouldn’t have kept him around for so long. Still, you asked, “what moments?”

“Well… the birthday parties, for example,” he began. “I saw fireworks, stood behind the wheel of a yacht, and drank decades-old whiskey way before I was legally allowed to do these things. And I didn’t have to pay for anything. Oh, and, okay—I also saw Sid dance to Britney Spears, which is, of course, priceless.”

There was unexpected amusement on your face. “Okay. That’s fair. I wish I’d seen that.”

“You really don’t,” he said. “I still have nightmares about it. He brought out a guitar later. Attempted to remix ‘Toxic’.”

Sucking your lips in to keep yourself from laughing, you nodded. “Hmm. Fitting song.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook restricted himself less as he laughed at your comment. “He can’t play for shit, though.”

Finally, you laughed, too.

Grinning, he continued, “the racing, too. I-I know this isn’t something you want to know about, but it’s—I guess, it’s a special memory for me.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a little surprised by the ease in your own voice. Racing used to be a taboo topic in your relationship. For you, that meant ‘don’t do it’, but for Jungkook, it meant, ‘do it in a way that she doesn’t find out’. Now, you said, “you can go on.”

He went on, “we raced in pairs. Jude was usually with Sid, I was with Minjun. We couldn’t do it individually, because I didn’t have a car of my own, and it wouldn’t have been fair. So, Sid bought me a car. You know the one.”

You knew and the knowledge made you lower your eyes. Even four years later, this car was difficult to forget.

But as you listened to him romanticise his friendship with Sid, you weren’t sure if Jungkook was even aware of how much the car and these races influenced your eventual break-up. How these happy moments that he shared with Sid led to unhappy moments with you.

“Then there was the time we were drunk and, somehow, ended up on the beach,” he continued, and you looked up from the water as you listened. “It got really sentimental in a way that it almost never does with us. I think Sid started it, actually, when he said that he wanted to become a musician.”

Your eyes widened, the image of Sid with a musical instrument successfully distracting you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said. “Was he serious?”

“Yeah. Dead serious.”

“Free Britney.”

He snorted. “Not for Britney. Punk rock. He had a bass and everything. He owned all the Sex Pistols records. You can see where I’m going.”

You paused, thinking. Slowly, your eyes narrowed.

“Not Sid Vicious,” you said.

Jungkook nodded and the sound of your exaggerated groaning made him laugh.

“He used to scream—I mean, literally screech at the top of his lungs—if his parents called him Isidore,” he said. “He started to go by Sid as a tribute and, I don’t know, a manifestation, I guess.”

You shook your head. The only resemblance Sid held to the notorious Sex Pistols’ bassist—aside from the drugs—was that he, too, seemed to give everyone headaches wherever he went.

“It was that night on the beach that I said I wanted that, too. Music, I mean,” Jungkook continued. “And we joked, for a minute, that we should start a band together, the four of us. Jude was going to be the lead singer, by the way.”

You scrunched your nose; another absurd image. “And you?”

“The drummer, of course. Rocking a cigarette between my teeth as I dropped killer beats.”

You laughed again. This was the one thing from their fantasies that you could see: the four of them choosing all the wrong positions in the band, but thinking they made it work because they looked cool on stage.

“So, what happened then?” you asked. “After you were the only one who became a musician.”

“Nothing,” Jungkook said. You scratched your forehead to hide the frown that your laughter had morphed into. Defending his friends came naturally to him and this habit was so useless. “I don't know. Sid never mentioned it again. I don’t think he cares.”

You looked down. You thought Sid cared.

Jungkook must have believed that they were equals now. But you knew they weren’t, and they never could be as long as Sid was involved.

The less of a lackey and more of an individual Jungkook became, the more Sid’s jealousy had to grow. Especially now that Jungkook was doing something that Sid had, apparently, always wanted to do.

“These good moments,” you started slowly, “that’s so long ago. When was the last time you had a good moment with him? When you had drinks in Prague?”

Jungkook almost winced at the unexpected memory of what happened at the hotel bar in Prague. Scrambling for a response, he gripped the railing of the bridge. “No, um, that was—that was one of the bad moments.”

“Really?” you were surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“If I did, you would have thrown me in the water.”

You glanced at the strait reflexively. “It’s that bad?”

“It’s...” he sucked in a breath. “Not good.”

“Huh.” You ran your fingers over the railing, confused. With all that had happened—Sid’s lie about Jungkook’s ex, the Paris trip, the unfortunate encounter at the bar in Berlin—it was hard for you to guess what could have constituted a bad moment between him and Sid. “But Sid’s still kicking it. Wreaking havoc on Stockholm.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

This time, your question was intentionally provocative, “so what does he have to do to cross the line?”

He brought the sole of his sneakers over the ground, rubbing at the pavement to win another moment.

“He’s done everything, I think,” he said finally. “The more time I spend with him here in Europe, the more I realise that things will be different when we go home.”

“Oh.” You blinked. Discomfort and distaste and even a sprinkle of pure dread gathered in the pit of your stomach. “So, he—he’s staying here until we go home?”

He lifted his eyes and noticed the way the light in your gaze seemed to dim. He wanted to assure you, but he also knew that there was something else he wanted, too.

He wanted to defeat Sid. He wanted to make him regret his actions for once. He wanted him to deal with something that he’d never had to deal with before: consequences.

So, all that Jungkook could say to you, was a lame, “I-I don't know.”

The disappointment remained prominent on your face as you said, “well, as long as I don’t see him, I guess, you can… think about what you want to do with him. I just think you deserve better friends.”

He cleared his throat and tried to shift the topic, “I thought Minjun wasn’t that bad.”

You glanced at him and saw the desperation in his attempt at a smile—it was there, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

“He’s tolerable,” you replied kindly.

He snickered. “Okay.”

“Keep him,” you said. “Lose Sid.”

“Hmm. And Jude?”

“Let Jude decide.” You shrugged. It seemed really simple. “It’s not a divorce, you don’t need to divide children. He can choose his real friends himself.”

Sadness returned to his voice as he looked down. “He’ll choose Sid.”

Your voice remained firm. “Then let him.”

Jungkook sighed. There wasn’t much else he could say to you. He heard it in your voice—all the determination that he lacked, you made up for it.

You noted that this wasn’t simple for him, at all. He’d known Sid, Jude, and Minjun since he was a teenager. It was easy for a friendship to feel permanent when it was decades-long. When you got so used to it, you didn’t think to imagine what it’d be like without it.

“Look…” you said, leaning your back against the railing. “If I were more like Sid, I’d be forceful. Maybe I’d even offer something as leverage. Something bad that I would do to you if you didn’t stop being friends with them. But I’m not Sid.”

Flashing back to the bet again, Jungkook groaned. “And thank God for that.”

“Yeah. So, I’m just… all I can do is tell you that you deserve better,” you said. “You deserve to be happy, you know? I don’t always talk shit about your friends because I personally think they’re shit.” You paused when he gave you a look. “Fine. It’s not just because I think they’re shit. I’m—I’m also looking out for you.”

“I appreciate that. You’re…” he stopped, feeling a flicker of fear for your reaction. He decided to push through more quietly, “you’re one of the few people in my life who does that for me.”

“Surround yourself with these people,” you said, too lost in the moment to notice his apprehension. “The ones who really care about you. It doesn’t matter how many of them there are. If they’re the only ones left in your life, I promise it’ll feel enough.”

He shook his head. “It’s not the quantity that matters for me, anyway. It’s… a lot of other things.”

“Think if those things are really worth it,” you persisted, “and if it wouldn’t be more reasonable to just walk away.”

He remembered—so suddenly, it almost knocked him off his feet and his grip on the railing tightened—how you’d done it. How you walked away from him for what was supposed to be the final time.

If it weren’t for a stroke of luck—or destiny, he supposed—he might have never seen you again. He might have never stood on this bridge in Stockholm with you. And if he’d gone after you that time, if he’d stopped you, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to wait for four years to get to this bridge.

Everything required a decision, and he was desperate to know if you ever regretted yours.

“Even if walking away could hurt them?” he asked you.

You looked at him and misjudged the sadness in his eyes for the pain of losing long-time friends.

“You’re hurting me,” you countered, “when you let them treat you like that. When you let them put you in danger.”

He could suddenly hear the silence around you both. With his eyes locked on you, he stammered, “w-why does that hurt you?”

This time, it was you who didn’t have a proper answer to his question. “Because.”

Inhaling until his lungs overflowed, Jungkook lifted his chin and closed his eyes.

A heavy minute later, he asked, “do you know what is the one thing that I’m glad my grandma forgot?”

The sudden change in conversation caught you off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You.”

You continued to watch him, and there seemed to be something burning in this word—a fire strong enough to shield you from the cold wind of the Swedish night and light your skin up with a warmth that felt innate and familiar.

“Why, um,”—you swallowed, interrupting yourself—“why are you glad?”

“Because she’d managed to do the one thing I couldn’t,” he replied.

The fire in your chest spread and you could barely inhale before it consumed everything inside of you.

You looked down at the water below. “Jungkook—”

There it was – his name like a curse on your lips. He didn’t think he was going to last this long in the first place, but this still felt like a forceful slam of a door in his face.

“I know,” he said quickly. “It’s too much, sorry. It’s just... being here with you makes me feel like myself again. Like I’m not just Rated Riot’s vocalist. Not just Sid’s friend. I’m also more than that. It probably makes no sense to you—”

“No,” you interrupted, shivering as the warmth inside of you faded into anxiety. Into fear. “I—I understand what you mean. But I think it’s because we’ve spent so much time together these past few days. It’s easy to get lost in the memories.”

Your guard went back up so quickly that Jungkook scoffed under his breath. He thought he’d broken down some of your defences tonight. Really, he’d merely bent them, if even that.

He still couldn’t tell you anything more out of fear that you would get lost in Stockholm just to run away from him.

“Well, why do you think we’ve been spending so much time together?” he asked, a certain edge to his voice.

You looked at him. “That’s what I’ve been asking you since we came to Prague.”

“It’s because I’m—because—” he started to say and then, in search of the right words, ended up dropping his own walls so he could admit, simply, “I just miss you.”

Still, you looked away and insisted, almost childishly, “you can’t miss me. My job is being with you and the band 24/7.”

He wasn’t sure if you were saying that because it was just easier like this, or because you genuinely felt this way.

Regardless, he shook his head.

“I miss you outside of your job,” he said, gaining confidence now that you weren’t looking at each other. He continued to speak to the water, “I miss hanging out with you. I miss how we used to spend hours scrolling through Netflix, trying to decide what to watch only to get so distracted by our conversation that we’d end up talking the whole night while the movie posters played in the background. I miss the way you’d sing backup vocals for me when I was putting on a show in the shower. I miss the apple scent of your shampoo and how the bottle was the perfect microphone. And the way you screamed that one time, when I nearly blinded you by accidentally squirting shampoo directly into your eye.”

You snickered—quietly, involuntarily, almost painfully—and the sound brought him back down from his memories as he turned to face you again.

“I miss everything,” he finished. “All those little moments.”

Your glance at him was furtive, momentary.

“Why now?” you asked.

This time, it was Jungkook who laughed—incredulously, cynically. “Why always? I don’t think I’ve ever truly stopped missing you.”

As you became more aware of how close he was—physically, of course, because mentally, he might as well have already been inside your head—goosebumps began to rise on your skin. Not just from the cold night, but also because he was right there—right fucking there—and you weren’t touching him.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “well, why did you tell me now, then?”

Deep inside, he was anticipating the question—it made sense, he could see why you’d want to know—but he still winced when he heard it.

Despite everything that had happened tonight—each moment brutally honest and coming from the deepest parts of his heart; the parts that he’d kept hidden for four years—there was a reason why he was telling you this now.

It’s because he was a fraud.

He’d made a fucking bet.

Inhaling sharply, he lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky above. He shrugged, hating himself with every word that was supposed to be an explanation, “better late than never or something like that, I guess.”

You observed him for a second before you looked away, too. You didn’t say anything, and he was desperate to make things right—at least, as right as he possibly could, without making them worse.

“I’m sorry if everything I said made you uncomfortable,” he tried. “I just wanted to—”

You shook your head, encouraged by the darkness and the emptiness of the street around you—like there was no one else here in Stockholm tonight, just the wind, the bridge, the two of you, and the water below.

“No,” you cut him off. “I’ve missed you, too."

His heart rate sped up so quickly that he thought it might give him whiplash. This night, in its entirety, was a rollercoaster ride.

He looked at you, shocking you with how intense his own shock was. “You have?”

Realising that he’d gone out of his way to do these things—spending time with you, helping you backstage, taking you to Paris—while you continued to find it all suspicious as if there was some deeper, more malicious reason for his actions, you began to feel guilty.

Wanting to redeem yourself, you nodded firmly.

“Yeah,” you said. “I have.”

Jungkook was nearly suffocating, his lungs full of something that he could not inhale.

The rollercoaster had reached its peak—his heart was leaping out of his chest—and suddenly, it plummeted at a rapid, nauseating speed. He felt like he was free-falling, his stomach slamming and hitting everything on its way down, as he realised, in horror, what he was doing.

He was taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t know about the bet. He was taking advantage of you.

You were being honest with him—which was rare for you in general, but even rarer nowadays—and he wasn’t doing the same for you. Not entirely.

There was a real reason why he told you about this now, not months—even years—earlier.

The memory of Sid suggesting the bet that very first night in Prague was sharp and brittle. It added to the weight of the confessions he’d made tonight and each of his words ricocheted off his ribcage and pierced his heart as a reminder that everything he’d told you tonight was a half-truth.

He meant what he said about missing you. He meant every single word, every little barely pronounced syllable that kept getting caught on the spikes in his heart, stabbed there each time he remembered that you were no longer together.

Four years he’d felt this way. And deep down, at the end of every day, he knew that he wanted you. Bet or no bet.

And he saw now—he could feel now—that he may have had a chance. A second chance.

But you were looking at him, the colour of your eyes reflected on every surface around him, and he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t take the chance. Not like this.

“It’s cold,” he said. “Should we go?”

The way the colour seemed to drain from your eyes was painful. He felt nauseous as he looked away.

“Uh, yeah,” you said. There was an emptiness in your voice—a great reflection of the sudden space that had opened up in his chest and in yours. “Let’s go.”

The disappointment came so abruptly, it caught you off-guard. You felt like this wasn’t everything that had to have happened tonight.

You felt like the night had been leading up to something. You weren’t sure what, and you weren’t sure how far you’d let it get, but here it was, instead; the disappointment.

The two of you walked the rest of the way to Strandvägen in silence.

One half of your pair felt confused and unexpectedly dispirited. The other half regretted being born.

There was something else, too; a feeling that the two of you shared. And it was the same thing—the thing that almost happened tonight—that you were both afraid of.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “is it really you?”

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