#jk it would be so empty without him <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[thefrogdalorian]

I saw that post going around about what people have on their nightstands and it made me wonder what Din would keep by his bed in the cabin on Nevarro...

I think:

Pictures of Grogu (apparently picture frames are called holocubes in Star Wars!)

A weapon! Probably a blaster of some sort. I imagine it would take him a while to even place it there (he probably slept with it tucked into his waistband/under his pillow for a few months...)

Various empty bottles which he really needs to throw away but keeps forgetting because he's a Tired, Stressed Dad™

Maybe his helmet, just in case he quickly needs to grab it and put it on (he probably feels so naked without it)

A Mythosaur necklace. I know we never saw it in canon, but I feel like he acquired another one so him and Grogu match. He takes it off every night before he goes to sleep but it's always there, close by.

I love fantasising about the little details of his cabin... I really hope we get to see some of them in the movie!

[sparklingchim]

reckless | jjk

pairing: idol!jungkook x producer!reader

word count: 3.8k

tropes: idol!jungkook, producer!reader, established relationship, childhood best friends

rating: pg

warnings: smooches!!, jungkook’s being very touchy <3, smoking, lots of pda, one (1) butt squeeze, lots of teasing n flirting (they're in love ur honour), mentions of jk being on a diet, mentions of oc being bullied in the past, just soft lovesick jk <3

summary: a casual date, the skirt’s a little too short, the night a little too quiet, and jungkook's hands on you like he's never going to let go.

a/n: writing this was so therapeutic im this 🤏 close to breaking no contact ❤️ (also dare i say this is the maybe in another universe couple <3)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

When you round the corner of the building, it’s not hard to find Jungkook.

He’s leaned against his Harley, dark clothes hanging easy on him, making him blend into the night. He has a faint frown on his face as he scans the empty street, toying with his lip ring like he’s lost in thought.

Once he spots you, though, everything softens. His eyes go all boba-round and warm, crinkling at the corners as a smile stretches across his face. That stupid pretty one that makes your chest feel full. He straightens up a little.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you say when you reach him, rising on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. You hug him tightly. You melt into him without thinking. His hands naturally land on the small of your back, holding you close in his embrace.

“It’s okay, baby.” Jungkook leans back just enough to press a little kiss to your lips.

One of his hands dip even lower, brushing over the curve of your butt and the light fabric of your skirt. It doesn’t take long before he grazes bare skin, catching just the edge where the hem ends and you begin.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Oh, it was so fun!” you beam, hands coming together in an excited little clap in front of your chest. You bounce slightly.

It had been a long day filming at one of the major companies in Seoul, part of that new show about the behind-the-scenes process of producing k-pop songs. The set was huge – too many lights, too many people, and so many cameras that you couldn’t even look around without feeling watched.

Everything felt loud and fast and intimidating, like you were going to mess up just by standing there.

“I was still really nervous in the beginning because there were a lot of people, but I did what you told me over the phone this morning and reminded myself that just being there already meant I belonged. That in a little while this would be just another thing that I’ve overcome.”

Dare you mention that just this morning, you felt like throwing up at the thought of today’s schedule – and yet, somehow, it turned into something you ended up loving. Getting to work on something you’re genuinely passionate about, surrounded by new people who love it just as much as you, felt amazing, inspiring.

“I told you it wouldn’t be as bad. You wanted to call in sick,” Jungkook reminds you, teasing you with an arched brow.

“I felt so anxious this morning!”

“You underestimate what you’re capable of.”

“Anyways.” Your shoulders slump slightly. “I’m exhausted now.”

“We can just go to my place if you want.” He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

“No. I wanna go to the Han River with you,” you say, lips tugging into a pout.

Jungkook grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it over his head. A glimpse of his toned abdomen flashes before his black tee falls back into place. He swings the hoodie around your waist, draping it carefully before tying it snug at the front.

“Can’t drive my bike in a short skirt like this,” he explains in a mumble, smoothing the hoodie down over your butt.

“You helped me pick out this outfit this morning.”

If you’d been left alone in your anxious spiral this morning, you probably would’ve just thrown on whatever comfy thing was closest. But after Jungkook talked you down over the phone, his voice all soft and steady, you felt a little more okay. Okay enough to want to feel pretty, at least. So you stood in front of your overflowing closet, doors hanging open, letting him help you pick something out over facetime.

“Yeah well. You look pretty. I wasn’t thinking about logistics.”

You roll your eyes, but your face warms anyway. “You’re the logistics.”

“Sue me for getting distracted.” He pecks your temple, grinning as he pulls back.

Then he crouches next to the Harley, lifting the seat to reveal a small storage compartment. With a bit of manoeuvring, he pulls out a black helmet, matching his own.

He turns back to you and holds it out like it’s something delicate. “C’mere,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back gently before slipping the helmet over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

“Too tight?” he murmurs, adjusting the strap with the pads of his fingers.

You shake your head.

He grabs his own helmet from the handlebar, slipping it on with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life with a twist of his wrist, loud and steady. He swings one leg over the bike and settles in before turning to glance at you over his shoulder. He holds his hand out to you.

“Hop on, baby.”

You take his hand, grabbing his shoulder with your other one for leverage as you climb on behind him. Your hands move to circle his middle once you’re properly sitting.

“You good?” He cranes his neck back to you, looking you over.

“Yes,” you reply, hugging his back. “Drive safely, please.”

The engine hums beneath you, the vibration slipping through your legs and settling in your chest as Jungkook coaxes the Harley onto the road.

The wind rushes past in silky ribbons, threading through your hair and curling under your skirt, making you curl closer into his back. His hoodie sways around your legs, and his scent, clean laundry and the last bit of cologne clinging to his skin, fills your lungs. You rest your cheek against the strong curve of his back.

Seoul twinkles around you in bits and pieces, like someone sprinkled glitter across the skyline. Streetlights blink down like stars with somewhere to be.

At a red light, Jungkook reaches for your hand without even looking, like it’s second nature. His fingers find yours and give them a slow, reassuring squeeze that makes your chest flutter. Then his hand drifts upward, trailing a lazy path along your arm before slipping behind him. His touch lands on your thigh, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It’s just a small stroke, but enough to send a little spark dancing up your spine.

Eventually, the buildings thin out, replaced by the open stretch of the Han River, glistening under the city’s glow. Jungkook rolls into a quiet patch near the railing and cuts the engine.

“My mum would kill me if she knew I was riding a bike with you,” you say.

Jungkook huffs a laugh as he slips off his helmet. With a little shake of his head his hair falls back into place. “My mum would kill me for letting you ride it with me.” He turns slightly to look at you, flashing his soft dimple as he reaches to unclip your helmet.

“And yet,” you retort as he helps lift it off your head, “here we are.”

“Reckless,” he grins, brushing your hair back into place. “But cute.”

~

After a quiet walk along the river, you settle onto a bench facing the water.

“I even got a bit of the lyrics done for the song we finished producing,” you say, tucking your hands into your sleeves

Jungkook hums, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and letting it rest behind your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You need to let me listen to it.”

“I’m not giving you the song.”

“Ah, it’s always worth a try.”

“I’ll start working with you when you guys are over this...era of music you’re in right now.”

“Era of music?” Jungkook scoffs. “You find new words how to describe the fact that you don’t like the new music every time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you whine, falling into his teasing. “It’s not that I don’t like the new music. It’s just not my type of production,” you quickly defend, truthful.

“At least let me listen to it.”

“When I’m finished you can.”

He lets out a small groan. “I’m terrible at being patient.”

“Oh, I know. Don’t have to remind me.” He’s an impatient boyfriend disguised as your number one fan (which, let’s be honest, he is). Always acting like he’s not trying that hard – when really, he’s the most obvious about it.

You roll your eyes every time he launches into a totally casual, totally unplanned, “hey, wanna show me a little something?” but you love it, every time. You love the way he sneaks into your world like that. Softly, stubbornly.

The sneaky bribes, the casual shoulder nudges, the way he tries to coax you into playing something, anything, even if it’s unfinished. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s just a late night, the two of you curled up on the couch, guitar perched on your lap, him humming half-written lyrics with his knees touching yours and a smile tucked into his voice. Songs that only live between you two.

“I’ll show it later to you,” you finally say. There’s not much of a fight when it comes to Jungkook. “Missed you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

“We should do something before my schedule gets crazy again.” Jungkook pats down his front pockets. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Like a small vacation?”

“I’d love that.”

You eye him as he slips a cigarette between his lips, cupping the flame with one hand as he lights it. The cigarette glows at the tip, smoke curling past his cheekbones and drifting in the opposite direction as he tilts his head to avoid blowing it your way. You still wrinkle your nose and lean your head away, your clutch around his arm loosening.

“You’re buying me ice cream for smoking next to me,” you mutter, half playful, half serious.

He exhales to the side again, then flicks the ash off the end with a small grin. “I was already gonna.”

You give him a look. “Not the point.”

“I know.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes tracing your face like he’s trying to read something only he can see.

When you saw Jungkook smoke for the first time while he was waiting for you in the dark, after not seeing each other for a very long time, you felt something twist in your chest. A mix of anger, sadness, and the sick realisation that time had changed him in ways you hadn't been there to see.

It messed you up a bit. Realising he changes in little ways when you're not around to witness it. It made you wonder if he's still the same Jungkook you've always known. If he's still your Jungkook.

Upon talking with him the entire night you quickly came to the realisation that Jungkook will be as much yours as you're as much his for the rest of your lives.

Maybe not in loud, dramatic ways, but in the quiet constants.

There is no version of your life where he doesn't exist - you're too intertwined with each other.

You sigh, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping through, but your fingers find his again anyway, slipping between them. He’s warm, even with the breeze coming off the water. The smoke lingers in the air between you, but his scent cuts through it – familiar, stupidly comforting.

“I say we go on a weekend trip to Jeju,” Jungkook says, his gaze fixed ahead.

Your head pops up. “That seafood restaurant,” you gasp, eyes widening.

He watches you, smiling at your excitement.

“We have to go,” you say, tugging his arm. “I still think about that abalone porridge from that tiny place by the harbour, you remember? With the old lady who called us lovebirds.”

“How could I not?” Jungkook laughs. “She told me to marry you or someone else would.”

You laugh too. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Jungkook snorts, flicking the half-smoked cigarette away and stubbing it out under his shoe. He turns back to you, and you feel his finger brush over your ring finger – it's a subtle, fleeting touch, but you wouldn’t dare miss it.

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen.” He leans in, catching you in a warm kiss.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips, then pull back slightly. “But don’t kiss me after you’ve just smoked.”

Jungkook sighs like you’ve wounded him. Dramatically. Then he leans back in, peppering kisses along your cheek, down the slope of your jaw, and onto your neck, ignoring your protests with every one.

“Jungkook,” you warn through laughter, swatting at him half-heartedly. “We’re not at home.”

“But I still love you the same.” It’s a gentle murmur against your neck, nuzzling the skin there before leaving one last kiss just below your jaw.

“Jungkook.”

He finally pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, and his teasing fades into something more softer, more quieter.

“I love the way you say my name.”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, just slightly lifting the corner of his lips. But his eyes hold the sincerity behind his words, the soft glow of them making you feel like you’re the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

Every time Jungkook says this, you’re reminded of when you still wore uniforms and shared secrets in the quiet spaces between classes. When he said it for the first time, you thought he was poking fun at you like the others for pronouncing words differently because you grew up abroad, in the US.

He told you it sounded softer, rounder, like it meant something more when it came from you. He said it made him feel like someone safe. Someone yours.

He doesn’t say it often, but every time he does, you’re reminded of the past. And a soft, nostalgic feeling settles in your chest at the memory of fifteen-year-old Jungkook and you falling in love for the first time. It’s a bittersweet ache because when you think of that time, all you see is blue, but Jungkook was the one thing that still felt warm. Like hope tucked into a person.

And now, years later, even with everything you’ve both grown through and grown out of, that version of him still lives in moments like this. In quiet confessions and shared glances.

Heat nestles in your cheeks. You look away – straight at the river with the twinkling lights reflecting off of it. They remind you of his eyes.

“What?” His voice carries a teasing lilt, like he can’t quite place where your sudden shyness is coming from, but he’s definitely enjoying it.

“I dunno,” you mumble under your breath, hiding your face on his chest while keeping your eyes trained on the water. “I just get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“By what?”

“By how much I love you.”

“Wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“I do too.”

You smile into his shirt, warmth blooming in your chest.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You really know how to kill a man,” he murmurs, voice low and a little awed.

You look up at him at that.

“I love you more,” he says eventually, like it’s the simplest truth. “Like... stupid amounts. Heart-aching amounts.”

You giggle, nose scrunching. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You started it.” He peers down at you, eyes soft. “Now let me be in love with you in peace.”

“I’ll let you love me in peace after we get snacks.”

“Will I ever witness a day where you don’t want something sweet?”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head with exaggerated seriousness. “The day can’t successfully end until you’ve had a sweet treat.”

“I actually think you’re singlehandedly keeping the candy industry alive.”

“I should be thanked, honestly.”

You rise to your feet, brushing invisible dust off your skirt as you stand in front of him. Jungkook doesn’t move right away. His eyes trail down to your legs, then to the hem of your skirt, fingers reaching out to tug it just a little lower with that automatic protectiveness he tries (and fails) to hide.

“You’re not cold, baby?” he asks, nodding toward his hoodie tossed over the bench behind him.

“No, I’m okay.”

Still sitting, he tugs you gently by the hips until you’re standing between his knees. His hands find your waist like magnets, thumbs stroking slow circles against the sliver of skin where your top has ridden up.

“I like this spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your stomach, right above your belly button. You flinch a little, giggling, fingers slipping into his thick hair.

“You’re such a menace,” you say, voice light, but you don’t pull away.

“And you’re so pretty,” he says, looking up at you from where he’s still crouched against your tummy. His eyes are warm, sparkling. “Like... dangerously pretty. You know that?”

You bite your lip. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.” He rests his chin just above your waistband, arms looping around the back of your thighs like he’s not letting go anytime soon. “Sometimes I think you’re not even real.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “That’s what people say right before they do something stupid.”

He grins up at you, squeezes your thigh just enough to make you squeak. “Then I must be about to do something really stupid.”

“I feel like that’s something for home. Not public.”

“You think so?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Jungkook.” It’s meant to be a chiding. But instead, it escapes softer than you intended, more like a puff of air. Like we shouldn’t but I wanna know anyway. Like stop talking... but actually, no – keep going please.

Instead of backing off like any reasonable person would, he smirks, then has the audacity to give your butt the lightest squeeze, fingers quick and shameless.

You squeal, jumping back. “Jungkook!”

Flashing you a smile that’s somehow both innocent and guilty, he casually grabs his hoodie from the bench and stands up.

You stare at him, half scandalized, half trying not to smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he says, slinging the hoodie over one shoulder glancing over at you with that smug softness that drives you crazy. “You wanted snacks, no?” He grabs your hand.

You narrow your eyes, but your feet already fall into step beside his.

~

It’s not a long walk until you reach the next convenient store.

“It looks kinda busy in there,” you tell Jungkook, peering through the glass. “I’ll just run in real quick. You can wait out here.”

Jungkook squints into the store, brows furrowed. “Who’s in there? I don’t want you going in alone if there’s some creeps.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him with your elbow. “It’s just a group of girls. Relax,” you say. “What do you want?”

He pulls his black card from his pocket. “Nothing for me. Just treat yourself, baby.”

You snatch the card from his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

~

You exit the store with a slightly overstuffed plastic bag tugging at your wrist. Being a girl who loves snacks, is hopelessly indecisive – and has her boyfriend’s black card – is a dangerous combo.

Jungkook tilts his head, trying to sneak a look inside the bag. “What’d you get?”

“Too much to name,” you say breezily, fishing out the ice cream resting right on top. “Got this for us, though.” It’s the ice cream that comes with two sticks so you can snap it in half and share. “I always think of you when I see this,” you admit, passing him one half after cracking it down in the middle.

“Ah, I didn’t want to eat any sweets today.”

“Too late,” you tease, nudging it closer to his mouth. “You already kissed me, so that’s off the table.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “That counts?”

“It absolutely does.” You raise your brows. “Now eat, please.”

He leans forward and takes a small bite straight from your hand. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” You swipe the pad of your finger over a smudge of ice cream at the corner of his mouth, then lick it off with a grin.

He huffs a quiet laugh, head tilting as he watches you with that impossibly fond look. “You’re trouble.”

“Says you!”

With a sigh, he takes it from you. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re cute.”

“I know.” You smile around the ice cream in your mouth. “I can’t have a boyfriend who says no to a sweet treat.”

You fall into step beside him, walking slowly as you both nibble at the halves in your hands.

“I’m dieting.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs, proving your point.

That’s when your mind slips, just a little, to all the ways you used to be like this. All the self-destructive habits he had to gently pry from your grip. Jungkook has saved you many times. And you want to be there for him just as much he was there for you when no one chose you. When he was the only one who saw you – really saw you – and still chose to stay.

You reach for his hand, linking your fingers through his.

“I feel like sometimes you live your life like it’s harder than it has to be. Like you’re holding yourself back, setting rules that you don’t have to follow.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet breath. “I know,” he mutters, squeezing your hand. “You’re the first person who made me think maybe I deserve ease too. You make it feel okay to slow down.”

“Am I?” you ask sceptically. You hope you do, but are you actually?

He tips his ice cream in your direction.

You laugh. “Baby steps.”

You glance up at him. He’s licking his ice cream, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth like he doesn’t even realize it’s there. It makes your chest ache a little. In that sweet way.

“Jungkook?”

His head turns slightly, face lit soft by the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. His eyes flick to you, a soft, curious glint catching in them as your gaze meets his. You lean your head against his arm.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sticking with me through every version of myself.”

It’s a thought that catches you off guard – maybe not entirely, you’re not sure – but suddenly it’s there, clear and undeniable. A reminder that, through every change, every version of yourself, he’s never left. Whether you’ve been at your best or your worst, he’s always stayed. And sometimes, it’s hard to wrap your mind around the fact that someone can love you through all of that.

“There’s never been a version I didn’t love,” he says quietly, like it’s not something he even has to think about.

Your heart stumbles a little, eyes stinging in that warm, fuzzy way that only he can cause.

“You make it really easy, you know,” he adds, brushing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. “Loving you. I don’t even think about it. I just do.”

You blink up at him, lips twitching into the kind of smile that only he gets to see. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He tugs you closer to him, your sides brushing with each step.

“You existed.”

[letsbangts]

answer your phone || jjk

⤷ summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling

⟡ sequel to mutt ⟡

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 12.8k+ (I couldn’t stop 😳)

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au

⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, jk is on a downward spiral (it's what he deserves), oc is struggling as well, taehyung is the shoulder to lean on everyone deserves

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, groping, protected sex, nipple play, oral (m. & f. receiving), markings (hickeys & other bruising), a bit of dirty talk & praising, fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms…I think that’s it?

⟶ part: 2/3

↬ a/n: HERE IT IS MUTT PT 2! firstly I want to say thank you for all the love & support i received on pt 1 it truly meant so much to me ♡ OKAY so you all wanted #justiceforoc and to see jk grovel so the tables have definitely turned on him ;). angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: p.s the flashbacks are indicated by the arrows (《,》)

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ answer your phone leon thomas 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

previous part ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ series masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

Answer your phone I’ve got to talk to you

Jungkook is sitting on his couch with a girl’s lips all over his neck and her hands all over his body, but his eyes are fixed on his cell phone lying on the coffee table. Instead of focusing on how her tongue is licking at his throat or how her hands grope him through his pants, he can only focus on you.

He stares at the phone that won’t ring, at least not with you on the other end. It has been over a month since you stormed out of his place. At first, he left you alone and didn’t try to reach out because he thought you needed to cool off. Jungkook has dealt with this hot and cold shit with others before; he knows they’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort or not. And it’s so much easier not to. But he has been calling you for weeks now with no success.

This past month, Jungkook has been with a handful of women, hoping to feel something, but he hasn’t. Not even with the aid of an empty bottle or a joint— and he’s certainly had plenty of both— nothing makes him feel as good as you do. Whether it’s getting his dick sucked by any of the random women he’s taken into the bathroom of a club or bending one over in the backseat of his car in the parking lot of the tattoo studio, getting on top of someone else to distract him from you hasn’t helped as he thought it would.

He is still trapped in his thoughts, even though the girl with him right now is attractive, with a nice body and a skillful pair of hands. He’s annoyed that her lips don’t send tingles down his body like yours do, that her hands aren’t as soft as yours and that she doesn’t have her fingers running through his hair the way you do.

He misses you.

He pries the girl’s hands off him and pushes her back as he lets out a deep sigh. She looks at him with a confused expression.

Jungkook licks his lips and, without looking at her, says, “I think we’d better stop; you should go.”

The girl attempts a seductive smile as she moves to unbuckle his belt.

“Stop? We haven’t even started anything. Come on, I’ll make you feel good, big boy.”

Jungkook rips her hands off his belt and rubs his hands over his face in frustration.

“Look, I’m just not feeling this, okay?” he says exasperated.

The girl’s face drops, and her whole demeanour changes.

“Are you fucking serious, Jungkook? Not feeling this? Can you not get it up or something? Is your dick really that pathetic?” she snarks, her eyes scanning him up and down.

He gives her a pointed look with his pierced eyebrow raised as he rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek and chuckles bitterly. He shakes his head, sniffs, and sits up straighter.

“Okay, listen here, Emilia—”

“It’s Emily!”

“Whatever the fuck your name is, I don’t care. I tried to be nice about this, but if you want to provoke me, that’s fine. You’re right; I can’t get it up because I can’t even pretend for a goddamn moment that you turn me on, not even in the slightest, so get your ass out of my fucking house,” he sneers through clenched teeth.

Right after Jungkook finished speaking, he felt a sting on his cheek. The response to his words was a sharp slap to his face and, once again, another upset girl storming out of his place, slamming the door behind her.

Jungkook shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. A metallic taste begins to form in his mouth; he must have bitten the inside of his cheek on impact. He rises to his feet and walks to the bathroom. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edge as he spits out blood. Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror and runs a hand over his reddened cheek, marked with a fresh cut from the girl’s ring-clad hand.

He isn’t bothered that the girl is upset because he doesn’t care about her. Jungkook couldn’t care less about whether he was an asshole to Emma; all he cares about is you and how he needs to talk to you.

Answer your phone Give me a minute, please Has your heart turned to stone? Have you no sympathy?

He has texted and called you an embarrassing number of times, waiting with every ring to see if you’d pick up so that he could hear your sweet voice. And he does, but only when he’s met with your voicemail — “Hey, this is Y/N. Sorry, I missed your call. Please leave me a message, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!”— which is a lie because you never do. Still, he leaves voice messages, hoping you will listen to them and call him back. He hopes that with every call, his persistence will make you curious enough to answer and talk to him, even if only for a minute.

Jungkook turns on the tap and washes his face; the cool water momentarily clears his head. However, once he raises his head and looks at his reflection again, his fringe drips with water, droplets falling onto his shirt. He is overwhelmed by the thought of you all over again.

He knows you can’t be too mad at him because you haven’t blocked him, not his number or on social media. It is how he knows you’re not that hung up on what happened since he sees you posting, whether casually going out for coffee or all dressed up to go party with your friends; regardless, in all of them, you look stunningly beautiful.

It makes him miss you even more and makes him unsure if blocking him might have been better, since Jungkook has seen some guys in your posts and noticed how they sometimes have an arm around you or how you lean in a little bit too close to them for his liking. He wonders if they are just friends; even if they are, he’s sure they want to be more. Have they tried anything with you? Are you dressing up like that for one of those guys? Are you trying to move on with one of them? Is that the reason you’re ignoring him?

The thought alone of you with someone else drives him crazy, but having to see you with some guy who probably doesn’t even know you that well makes him furious. Jungkook knows you better than anyone of those chumps could, yet they get to be around you while he is stuck looking at your angelic face beside some happy idiot through a screen like a loser.

Jungkook bets none of those guys know that you hum while getting ready, don’t know that when you’re in the car while it’s raining you turn off the radio to listen to it fall, don’t know that you can’t sleep wearing pants or socks, don’t know that you hate drinking room temperature water, don’t know that you do this adorable little happy dance when you really like the food you’re eating, and bets they don’t know that the guy who put that tattoo on your hip has fucked you every way under the sun.

Shit. He misses you.

Misses how you would thread your fingers through his hair, scratching softly at his scalp while he had his head in your lap as you both watched TV, misses how you would listen to him complain about a client while you fiddled with his earring but with such attentive eyes that showed you were paying attention, misses how you would scrunch your nose and blush when he made a flirty comment, misses how you would somehow take the pressure of the day off him simply by hugging him.

Why won’t you answer? Why won’t you give him a proper chance to explain himself and apologize? Did all your feelings for him vanish? Has your heart just turned to stone? Don’t you see how hard he’s trying? Don’t you have any sympathy for him?

Upon realizing that his teeth are grinding together and his fists are clenching so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, he pulls himself together, relaxing all his muscles, and heads back to the living room with determination.

Jungkook grabs his phone off the coffee table before sitting on his couch. With his elbows resting on his knees, he goes to his call log filled with your name and presses it, lifting the phone to his ear as he listens to the ringing for the umpteenth time.

I know I fucked this up I know I let you down But I’ve suffered long enough And you’re still not around

He bites his nails while tapping his foot anxiously; he concentrates on what seems like endless ringing. His eyes glance at the clock. You should be home from work by this time, he thinks. When your voice finally comes through—voicemail, of course. Jungkook didn’t honestly expect anything else.  

He leans back, tips his head back against the backrest, and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts, and when he hears the beep of the answering machine, all those thoughts spill out of his mouth.

I know I don’t deserve it But please have some mercy ‘Cause I just might die if you don’t

Y/N POV

You hold your buzzing phone in your hand and watch as the screen dims once it’s finished, only to light up a few seconds later with a notification about a voicemail.

You hit the notification and bring your phone to your ear, you bite your lip when you hear the deep voice of the man you’ve been keeping at bay.

“Hey Y/N, I don’t know if you even listen to my messages anymore or if you ever did, but I’m not going to give up. I’m sorry, I know I fucked up and I know I let you down, but—fuck, Y/N, I miss you so goddamn much. It feels like I’ve been suffering for so long, like there is this knife that’s buried in my chest and keeps twisting the more time you’re not around. I know I don’t deserve it, but please have some mercy and answer me. Fucking shout at me and curse me out. Answer me and don’t say anything— stay silent if you want, but just answer me, please. I need to hear your voice, or see you, something—anything, because this is beginning to feel like a slow, painful death.”

You sigh as you lower the phone from your ear, swallowing the lump in your throat. You’ve never heard Jungkook’s voice so shaky; you’ve never experienced Jungkook being anything but confident.

Jungkook has been persistent in reaching out, and you have told yourself you must be just as persistent in your resolve not to answer. This past month has been devoid of any trace of him, but just because he hurt you doesn’t mean all your feelings for him have vanished. It’s been hard on you; so many times your thumb has hovered over the accept button when he called, but by the time you contemplate it, the call has already gone to voicemail.

Regarding that night, you have calmed down significantly since leaving his place feeling angry and upset. You have thought it over countless times, and although you still don’t condone what he did, you genuinely believe he didn’t act with ill intent. You just expected more from him; he always told you how it was different with you, that you meant more to him than anyone else. Only to then treat you like any other one of his insignificant flings. It made you question if you are so whipped for him that you failed to see he viewed you as a girl easy to fool. But you know Jungkook is more than just that one night; he may have disappointed you, but there have been many times he hasn’t.

You have ignored every attempt he made to communicate with you; yet, you haven’t blocked him on anything—it feels too final. Instead, you have been keeping yourself occupied. When you’re not working, you’ve been going out with friends, reminding yourself of who you were before Jungkook. Of course, you didn’t completely ignore your friends when he came into your life, but he did take up most of your free time.

They knew about him; while they may not have known all the dirty details of your relationship, they did know that you spent a lot of time with him and enjoyed doing so. And if you were happy, so were they. So when you replied in the group chat that you’d be joining them for a night out, they were shocked but didn’t ask any questions. They were excited to have the gang together and didn’t hesitate to ensure you had a good time.

Usually, you’d spend your weekends with Jungkook since you both were off then. You would be tangled in his sheets, a sweaty mess, put in various positions, inducing multiple orgasms. You had forgotten the thrill of being in the middle of a crowded dance floor, sweat rolling down your body from the heat of so many bodies so close together. Throwing back countless shots, you and your friends could barely dance in your heels and tight dresses without stumbling.

You’d also forgotten how much male attention you receive when going out and mingling with new people. Although there are still many creeps around—for whom you had to get your guy friends to come to your rescue—sometimes there would be someone who seemed harmless enough to flirt with, but then you would remember a certain doe-eyed, dimpled-smiled man and would turn them down.

One time, when you had used your friend Taehyung as an escape from an otherwise seemingly good guy, pulling him behind you and wrapping his arms around your dancing figure for protection, he asked you why you didn’t go for it. That was when you opened up and told him the full story about you and Jungkook. Taehyung has been a caring and understanding person for as long as you have known him, and he empathized with you when you explained your feelings and complicated situationship.

Since that night, he has been your confidant, your shoulder to lean on. He has witnessed firsthand how this month has not been easy for you, no matter how much you tried to forget about your fuck buddy/friend. After hearing about the detailed story of the last night you spent with Jungkook, he has been vocal about how you deserve someone who wants to be with only you and that you are more than enough. Yet, he never judges you and understands that you know a different side of Jungkook.

You know the Jungkook who moved all the mugs to the lowest shelf in his cupboard so that you could reach them, the Jungkook who sings loudly in the shower, the Jungkook who, when he first falls asleep, starts twitching with a cute, peaceful smile on his face.

You miss him.

You’ve passed the tattoo studio on your way home, stared at that flashing neon-red sign, and thought how all it would take to see him is for you to step through that door; if you just walked in and talked to him, maybe everything could turn around in your favour. You both could patch things up and be happy. You could be together.

You’ve looked through that window from afar, hoping to catch sight of the pierced, tattoo-covered man, reminiscing about when you were on the other side with him.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

The bell of his studio dings, signalling your entry. At the counter stands the pierced, tattoo-covered man you came for. He looks up from the book with his scheduled appointments, and when his eyes land on you, he flashes you that big, dimpled smile, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling in delight.

“Hey, baby. I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here so late?”

He drops his pen onto the book and rounds the counter, meeting you halfway. His lips press against yours in a quick kiss as his hands settle on your waist while yours find their way around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

“I could ask you the same thing. When you texted that you were still here, I thought I would stop by to see you,” you shrug.

Jungkook sighs and gives you a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand to brush through his hair.

“My last client of the day cancelled on me, so I decided to stay back and work on some designs. I sent the others home, and I guess the time got away from me,” he scratches the back of his neck.

“Mmm, handsome and hard-working, what a catch,” you smile and tiptoe to give his cheek a peck.

“I don’t want to disturb you, though. Should I go?” you continue, rubbing your hands up and down Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook shakes his head as he removes your hands from his chest.

“No, stay. I could use your presence; it has been a stressful day.”

He walks over to the studio’s entrance, flips the open sign, locks the door, and pulls down the blinds, now closing for the day. Lastly, he switches off the main lights, leaving only the multiple neon lights hanging on the walls in various designs and colours to keep you from the darkness.

He takes one of your hands into his, interlocking your fingers, and leads you through the dimly lit room to behind the counter, and to the desk you’ve seen him work at many times. He rolls out his chair, sits at his desk, looks up at you, and pats his thigh, and you comply with his silent request. You sit, his muscular thighs between your legs. He puts one arm around you, holding your waist to keep you steady, while his other arm rests on your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Once in his lap, you look at the glance over the wooden surface covered with scattered papers, all filled with his artwork. Some designs are drawn with intricate detail, while others are simple sketches. But they are all equally impressive—sometimes you forget how talented Jungkook is.

“Oh my gosh, Kook! These are amazing!” you gasp, picking up one of the sheets and turning your head to look at him.

He takes the paper from your hands and places it back on the desk. You see the tips of his ears turning red.

“They’re alright,” he shrugs; you notice he seems sullen.

You turn in his hold, your body sideways on his lap, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“What has got you so stressed out?” you ask, pushing back his fringe before moving your hand to fiddle with his earring.

Jungkook closes his eyes at the feel of your touch, exhaling a breath in relief. He leans forward, rests his forehead on your shoulder and hugs you tight.

“I just—that client, that was the fifth cancellation this month. I don’t understand why; we had several consultations, and I listened to all his requests. I showed him so many different design options that I had sketched for him. I don’t know, maybe—maybe I lost my touch or something.”

“Hey, now that’s not true; this stuff is unbelievable, Kook,” you gesture at the multiple illustrations on his desk, “And you have been completely booked up with back-to-back appointments every day, I have never seen you so busy.”

You tug on his hair, and he whines, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and pulling you closer.

“Plus, do you think I would let a guy who’s lost his touch anywhere near my skin with even a drop of ink?” you tease, your lips brushing his ear.

“That was months ago,” he mumbles into your neck, and you feel the coolness of his lip rings against your skin.

“Yeah, and I would still let you be the one to do it.”

Jungkook looks up at you and argues, “Not like I’m going to let anyone touch you besides me.”

You boop his nose with your own, which makes him chuckle.

“I’m serious, Jungkook. You are passionate about your job, and it shows in your artwork. You are such a talented artist, people see your pieces online and come from all different places just to get inked by you. You. Because you are fucking Jeon Jungkook,” you poke at his chest.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles softly as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently, “How do you always know what to say to calm me down?”

Your eyes sparkle at his question, and you smile gently as you hold his cheek, your thumb caressing the soft skin while pressing your forehead to his, “I know you. Everything I said is simply the truth.”

Jungkook’s mouth parts slightly in surprise, but his gaze softens. His cheeks seemed to have flushed as well, but you weren’t sure due to the low lighting in the room. 

“Thank you, baby,” he says almost shyly, and you couldn’t believe this was the same man who flirts with you so shamelessly at every chance he gets, nor the same man who has had you screaming in pleasure several times a night.

There are many sides to Jungkook, and you adored all of them.

You wrap your arms around his torso, embracing him tightly, burying your face in his neck, and he hugs your waist just as firmly, kissing your forehead.

You both sit like that for a while, and your breathing becomes in sync as if your bodies had become one.

“I-I’m…I’m glad you came here,” he clears his throat as his arms tighten around your waist, basking in your warmth and comfort.

Jungkook has vented to you about work before, but this time, it feels different. You’ve never seen him like this.

“I’m here anytime you need to talk, Kook,” you reassure.

“Well, that’s good to know…” he said with a nervous smile, “But I meant…I’m glad you came here that day to get your tattoo—that you came into my life.”

Your body freezes momentarily at his words, but soon a fire ignites in your heart and spreads throughout you. You are filled with pride and relief that he feels comfortable and trusts you enough to share his personal feelings so openly.

“I’m glad I did too,” you whisper, “I meant what I said, though, I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

“Okay,” he whispers, “Okay. But on one condition.”

“What?”

He tilts his head to look down at you, and you look at him through your lashes.

“You have to come and hold me like this when I do.”

“Deal,” you giggle.

“Seal it with a kiss,” he says, leaning down slightly.

You lift your head and meet his lips in an emotional kiss, which soon becomes more heated as your tongues mingle.

You move down his body, kneeling between his thighs. Your hands grip his belt, and Jungkook pants lightly, his anticipation and need high. You unbuckle it and unbutton his jeans effortlessly, then quickly pull them down far enough for his bulge to be exposed. As expected, he is already hard for you. The effect you have on him is always intense. You glance up at the heavy-breathing man above you, eyes hooded and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You shift your focus from his bulge to his t-shirt, gripping it by the hem and pulling it up. When he realizes what you want, he assists you; he sits up a little, grabbing the back of the collar and pulling it over his head with one hand, fully exposing his toned core. Just like that, his shirt is off, and he tosses it to the floor to be found later.  

Your hands create goosebumps across his exposed skin as they brush against his lower abdomen when you grab the hem of his boxers and pull them down. His erection springs up and rests against his abdomen, impatient for your touch.

At the sight of his big, veiny dick, you unconsciously drag your tongue along your upper lip. You quickly remove his jeans and boxers, along with your shirt, leaving you in your bra, panties, and skirt.

Your hand wraps around his shaft, and your thumb swipes across his head, smoothing the precum over his length to make it feel better. You stroke him gently a couple of times before leaning down and placing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock. Jungkook hisses at the sensation, and he throws his head back.

You slowly begin to move your hand up and down his cock; you enjoy building him up gradually and prolonging his release. A knowing look flashes across his eyes when he discovers what you are doing. He chuckles, and then you swirl your tongue around his head, causing the smile to fall from his face immediately as his hand grips the sides of the chair.

“D-Don’t tease,” he breathes heavily.

Your lips curve up into a barely noticeable smile at his reaction. You lick him from the base of his length to the top, swirling your tongue around his head once more before slowly pushing him between your lips and going down on him, your tongue pressing against his hardness as you take him in.

His abs clench at the contact, and a moan slips past his lips, “Fuck, yeah.” 

You glimpse up at him; his eyes are closed tightly, and sweat is forming on his golden skin, the exact way you like seeing him when you suck him off. The fact that you could affect him like that without even doing very much boosts your confidence.

You start moving back up slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft and squeezing him gently, earning a whimper. You repeat your movements with eagerness.

You love giving him head, hearing his moans of pleasure, and having him fall apart at your touch.

After a few rougher squeezes from your hand, you suck harder and take as much of him as you can into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him that you can’t fit.

“Feel good?” you ask the obvious question.

He whines and raises his hand to your hair, pushing his fingers through the locks and out of your face, “That feels so good,” he rasps.

You hum around his dick; you look up and find him already gazing down at you, his eyes dark with lust—an image you will carry with you to your grave.

You flutter your eyelashes at him and take him even deeper, fully engulfing his dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bob your head. 

Jungkook gulps, and his eyes roll back in his head. You feel his hands tangle in your hair, pulling slightly as his hips thrust up into your mouth on instinct.

You go back to slowly moving your hand up and down his length, and it lasts for a few seconds until his hands are over yours, stopping you. Before you can question him, he takes your head in a tight hold and forces you to move faster, his large hands enveloping your head. He gently pushes down against your head until his entire cock is in your mouth and holds you there, your nose touching his pelvis. Your eyes water, but you power through, breathing deeply through your nose.

The man appears to be in pure bliss. His thighs are shaking, and his eyes are blinking rapidly, trying hard to stay open. His mouth is agape as he releases breathy moans, his chest heaving up and down.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby, fuck,” he growls.

When he is satisfied, he pulls you up off of his cock and removes his hands. You pop back up and let go of his throbbing length, a string of saliva briefly connecting your mouth to his tip. You gasp for air with tears streaming down your face, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Always such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he says, lifting your chin and wiping your wet cheeks.

You nod with a sniff, your eyes still glassy.

Jungkook suddenly reaches forward to grab your hips and pulls you onto his lap. You quickly straddle him, your hands pressing against his chest as you grind softly against his dick. His lips crash into yours in a messy kiss; it lasts for a little while before he pulls away and looks straight at you, “You know I love having your mouth around me, baby, but I need to be inside you.”

Then he’s capturing your lips once more, his arms encircling your legs around his waist as he does so. His hands rest under your thighs, effortlessly supporting your weight. You’re so immersed in how seamlessly his lips meld with yours that you don’t notice you both have shifted from the chair until you feel him place you on the desk.

Jungkook glides his hands up your thighs, only to have them wind around your waist, pulling you against him with force. He stands between your legs, with your pussy pressed directly against his member.

You grind your soaked panties against him, causing his lips to detach from yours, letting a groan escape from his lips as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck in the process. You trail small, wet kisses from the side of his face, along his jawline, and down his neck, before stopping at the junction between his neck and collarbone. You suck harshly on his skin, earning yourself a few moans from Jungkook, and you feel his chest vibrate.

Jungkook takes hold of your neck, his hand on your throat and kisses you intensely, attempting to express the longing he has felt for you since the moment you walked into the studio. His tongue swipes against your lower lip, asking for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to let him in. As his tongue dances with yours, you feel his hands tug at your skirt before he pulls it down, pausing to allow you to lift off the desk enough for him to remove it along with your bra, tossing them to join the rest of the clothes on the floor.

The sight of your naked torso distracts him from doing anything else, and his gaze lingers on your breasts before it shifts to your hip, where your tattoo is. Jungkook’s hand instinctively glides over the skin adorned with black ink.

“It’s still my favourite piece I’ve ever done,” Jungkook mutters before he plants kisses along your sternum and then finally on your breasts. Before his lips can explore further, you cup his face and bring it back to yours, and you both smile into the kiss. He gathers you in his arms and moves toward the tattoo chair behind him.

Jungkook carefully lowers you onto the reclined chair, and you watch as he stands at the edge, removing the black jeans already halfway down his legs. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that you’re watching every movement of his; you bite your lip and smirk, and it seems to turn him on even further, which urges him to discard his pants and join you quickly.

He crawls over you, supporting his weight with the arms on either side of your head. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips before he begins his exploration of your body, using his lips. Open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, across the curve of your breasts, and back up to your neck, where he decides to leave his mark by sucking on the skin at the base of your neck. The noises that escape your lips only motivate him to suck even more aggressively, creating even more red marks as he moves down your body.

“Kook, do something,” and as if he had been waiting for those words, Jungkook starts to move lower on your body until he’s hovering over your clothed pussy. You watch as his nose skims over the wet patch on your underwear. His hands smooth over your legs before they settle onto your hips, which he doesn’t leave unmarked as he sucks on the skin above your tattoo. Your hips rise, yet his stronghold stops you from squirming, “Kook, I need you.”

Upon hearing your desperate begging, Jungkook presses a finger to your covered heat, skillfully finding the bundle of nerves that have you writhing beneath his touch. He begins to rub between your legs, with the sole barrier to full contact being the delicate piece of cloth. He keeps teasing you through your panties, relishing the sounds you make as you squirm beneath him. Deciding that you’ve had enough of the torture, Jungkook hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties before pulling them down, revealing your glistening cunt. He locks eyes with you, and you observe from above as he slips a finger inside you, his stare unwavering. As he pumps his finger inside you, your head tilts back, and you let out a string of moans.

“You’re so tight, baby,” Jungkook comments before inserting another finger inside you, gentle kisses along the inside of your thighs as your hands weave into his hair. You’re surprised when you feel him sucking on your clit; the extra stimulation makes you tremble against his thrusting fingers.

“Mmm, and so wet. Your pussy tastes so good, so fucking sweet.”

“Oh my god, K-kook,” your back arches off the bed as he adds in a third finger while keeping his mouth on your sex. He smiles triumphantly upon hearing you repeat his name like a mantra, and sets out to ensure you’re moaning it even more loudly. You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your desperate moans, but it’s in vain when Jungkook curls his fingers within you, hitting a specific spot that causes you to clutch his hair tightly and cry out his name shamelessly.

Jungkook relentlessly drives into you, his fingers curled to target the spot that makes you moan his name, while his mouth remains attached to your clit, teeth lightly tugging and grazing the bud before his lips form a tight seal around it. You feel the pressure in your lower stomach intensify with every thrust of Jungkook’s fingers and every flick of his tongue, all leading up to your orgasm.

Jungkook watches as the wave of ecstasy flows through your body, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, with the way your face contorts in ecstasy. His fingers are still thrusting inside, helping you ride out your high, but the oversensitivity soon becomes too much, and you have to push him away.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to notice what a handsome man Jungkook truly is. Complementing his defined biceps and strong thighs were his abs, impeccably shaped, and you observe as the stunning man above you licks the remnants of you from his fingers. The sight has you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down so that his chest meets yours. Jungkook smirks at your action before he hungrily attacks your lips with his glistening ones, letting you taste yourself as you recover from your climax.

“Take this off,” you mumble against his lips, your foot at his lower back attempting to push his boxers down. He quickly complies with your request, shedding the dark grey boxers before leaning down to his jeans on the floor to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket and get a condom. He rips open the foil with his teeth, being careful not to tear the condom in the process, before rolling it down his length. He hovers over you again, keeping most of his weight off of you with the support of his arms.

Jungkook kisses your navel before trailing upward towards your breasts. His mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking on it, he takes his time sucking one breast while kneading the other one before he switches. Your hands hold onto his biceps, gliding over his skin as he prepares your body for another climax. When he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your two mounds, he places one more kiss against your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Mhm, Kook. Want you so bad.”

And so Jungkook takes his length and aligns himself at your entrance, the tip of his member almost pushing past your folds. He gives you one last peck on the corner of your mouth before his member sinks into your pussy, making you wince at the stretch of your walls. He pushes himself until he is buried deep within you, causing you to whimper when you feel his full length inside of you. Jungkook groans loudly as he feels himself get embraced by the warmth and tightness of your wet, velvety walls. He reaches for your hands, lifts them to rest on both sides of your head, and interlocks your fingers with his. His forehead meets yours, and both of you share a longing gaze while relishing the moment. Once you’ve adjusted to his size, you move beneath him, and Jungkook takes it as a signal to begin his ravaging.

He pulls back all the way, leaving only his tip inside of you, before pushing himself balls-deep within you once again. You urge him on with your voice, calling for him to go faster and harder, and he complies by thrusting into you at an astonishing speed. With each thrust of his, Jungkook’s name escapes your lips in moans that fill the studio, along with his panting and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You feel the warmth of his chest leave yours when he sits up, his hands gripping your waist, pressing his fingernails into your skin. The new position allows him to pull you to meet each of his thrusts, hitting at a new angle that makes you cry out his name. When he starts hitting that same spot that tipped you over the edge earlier, you grab his arms and pull him so that he’s on top of you again. His entire weight is on top of you, but you don’t care, not when his thrusts are paired with his lips on your neck.

You moan loudly, which is followed by your pussy convulsing around his cock, and Jungkook knows that you’re close. Your nails scratch against his broad back, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to his pleasure. You’re sure he’ll have red marks all over his back as if he’s been attacked, but it’s a fair trade because he’s marked you plenty with his lips.

Jungkook feels you clenching around him even tighter than before, and he’s slamming his hips against yours, urging you to reach your climax. When Jungkook feels your nails dig deeper into his back, his hand reaches between your two sweaty bodies and draws circles on your clit, which sends you off into euphoria. Your second orgasm of the night hits you harder than the first, and your body would have trembled if it were not for Jungkook’s body in the way—the body that is still connected to yours and continues thrusting into you. Your swollen walls clench so tightly that Jungkook starts chasing his high. He groans loudly against your neck as he shallowly thrusts into you, helping both of you ride out your orgasms.  

Jungkook sighs in relief, unaware how long he’s been holding his breath. Jungkook detaches himself from you, and you gasp lightly, feeling somewhat empty as the warmth leaves with him. He rolls off of you, and the two of you lie close together, side by side, attempting to regain your breath after the intense exchange. You sense his gaze from the corner of your eye, and when you turn to face him, your eyes meet his round, dark brown ones.

“Come here.”

Unsatisfied with just your shoulders touching, Jungkook turns onto his side, and you do the same before shifting closer to each other. His hands rest naturally on your hips as if returning to their rightful place. No words are exchanged between you, but there is no need to because you find yourself lost in the softness of his brown eyes, and he can’t help but mirror the wide grin plastered on your face. His hand moves to your tattoo, and you observe his expression as his fingers hover over the indelible design on your skin. His eyes hold a sparkle that evokes a certain emotion to wash over you.

“So, do you feel better?” you ask, breaking the silence of the afterglow, but he looks confused at your words, and you find the sight adorable. “You were stressed out…”

“Me? Stressed out? Huh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You are the one who’s confused this time, but not for long, because the realization hits you when you see his mischievous smirk. You punch his arm playfully, and he grins almost too widely, his eyes forming crescents. His hands, which were placing feathery touches on your tattoo, are now tickling your sides, and he’s elated at the sound of your joyful laughter before pulling you against his chest.

Jungkook looks around the studio, the neon lights casting shadows on his face, “I feel good; how could I not? This is a first for me though— fucking at work.”

You look up at him with raised brows in surprise, and Jungkook smiles down at you and continues.

“You know, I didn’t think the next time I had you back in my chair would be like this.”

“Oh my gosh,” you blush and hide your face in his chest, a little embarrassed but mostly shy at his remark. He laughs, and you feel it rumble through his chest; his hand lifts to pet down the back of your head.

“You can’t be shy with me after all that. Every time I’m working on a client now, all I will be thinking about is you beneath me in this chair.”

“I can’t imagine what the crew would think if they found out what we did,” you mumble into his chest with a little laugh.

“They would think I’m a sterilizing expert because there will be no evidence of what happened here,” he sits up and gently strokes your ass, and then gives it a pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, “You’re in charge of the desk, you little minx; I’ll do the chair,” he winks at you.

You’re left to blush again, swooning as you both get up to remove any trace of the two of you in the studio.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Your thumb hovers over Jungkook’s name, you’re considering calling him back, just as you hear a knock at your door.

Answer your phone I’ve got so much to say I’m at my all-time low And it’s just too much to take

Jungkook can raise his hands and admit he didn’t handle that night as well as he could have, but he is truly sorry. He realizes that even if his intention wasn’t to hurt or offend you, what he did wasn’t his best moment. As much as he tells you that you are special to him and that what you two have is different, which is true—his actions didn’t match his words, and you deserve better than that. Jungkook may not be the perfect gentleman, far from it, but he is better than that, especially when it concerns you.

As the hands of the clock tick away and more time passes, he gets up and begins pacing.

If you listened to his message, you would have called by now, right?

Jungkook isn’t used to this—needing someone. Sure, he has desired certain women, and he always got them, but once the lust faded, he never wanted them to stay; he never needed them to stay.

He hasn’t always been like this, and he knows where it all began: the fear of giving his all to someone and then losing them, of handing over his heart to another and having them desecrate it.

Jungkook refused to be like his father; he watched him give his mother everything and love her immensely, only for her to run off without regard for him or Jungkook.

He fears emotionally connecting with someone else will end as he has always seen: being left alone and heartbroken.  

Because inevitably, love is never simple, nor is it equal in the sacrifice of pouring oneself into another.

He can’t imagine what could be worse than letting someone in and loving so wholly, only to be left empty because you offered yourself up to someone undeserving.

Jungkook knows how good a man his father is, and if he could get burned and scarred by love, Jungkook knows he doesn’t stand a chance.

And who would willingly walk into a fire?

When people asked him why he didn’t get into a serious relationship, he would say, “I like change. Life is too long to commit to one person and too short not to explore your options.”

But that was before he discovered you. Once you fit into his life so perfectly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without you. He knew he had found that one constant in his life. 

The constant being: Y/L/N Y/N.

What he shared with you has always been simple, and the effort you both put in has always been equal.

Jungkook never believed he would find that kind of connection, one that flows easily. Now that he has found it, he desires to keep you in his life and wants you to remain a part of him.

He will walk through the flames if you’re on the other side.

Jungkook has never been fond of lingering and preferred moving from one thing to the next, one woman to the next. He didn’t enjoy being too close; he always kept people at a distance, maybe not physically but emotionally. Tattooing has been the only steady thing in his life; he was committed to his craft.

But you broke down his walls, shattered the pattern—you got close. He found the courage to let his guard down. He knows there is nothing to be wary of, no looming feeling that he will be met with disappointment. Everything is easy with you.

His cowardice led him to rule out a love that hadn’t happened yet. Maybe he is a fool, but he can’t live with regret. He’s ready to dive off the deep end. It’s draining to always be on the defence, ready to push people away, and he’s tired. He wants to settle down and commit to you.

Jungkook can be vulnerable around you; he knows you won’t use his weaknesses against him like people have in his past. You don’t even view them as things that make him weak, just what makes him human, because no one can be perfect. However, he would argue that you seem to be pretty damn close.

He feels most comfortable with you; he trusts you and can be himself. There is no pretence with you; Jungkook likes who he is around you.

Jungkook loves you.

In your eyes, he is the guy who comforted you when he saw how nervous you were while getting your first tattoo. The one who keeps an extra hoodie in his car for you because you never dress for the weather. The one who finishes work and picks up takeout for the two of you to eat together. That’s the Jungkook you see, the one you know better than anyone else—the one you have wrapped around your precious finger.

Despite his many shortcomings, you’ve never asked him to be any different from who he is. You never judge him for the life he’s leading and never pressure him to change his ways, no matter how flawed. Yet you still never expect the worst from him.

So now, all he fears is that he has accomplished the one thing he dreaded the most, and has destroyed the link holding the two of you together.

Should he go to your place?

Jungkook hasn’t gone over because he didn’t want to seem overbearing; he wanted to give you your space until you felt ready to talk to him on your terms. Also, if you weren’t answering his calls, you most likely wouldn’t answer your door either.

But he doesn’t want you to think he won’t fight for you. He won’t lose you without a lack of trying. If Jungkook is anything, he is persistent. He has too much to say to you and isn’t about to sit here and take this distance any longer. He’s willing to do whatever it takes.

As he looks out of his window and stares at the hundreds of lights, he feels a new surge of determination; he is rising from this low point he has sunk into, fed up with wallowing in his self-pity.

He turns and strides to his door, yanking it open with vigour. He sprints down the stairs and rushes outside into the chilly night, heading straight for his car.

Jungkook pulls out of his spot and drives the familiar route to your house, accelerating down the road at the maximum speed permitted by law. In his state of urgency, it seems that all he encounters are red lights and stop signs.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light turns green.

Answer your phone I’ve got to get to you God, I hope you’re alone And someone new isn’t next to you

Y/N POV

You gather yourself and halt your wandering thoughts to get up and check who is at your door. You are not expecting anyone, and you told your friends you won’t be going out with them tonight. Your excuse was being too tired from work, but honestly, you were just too sad to pretend you were okay.

Could it be him? He said he wouldn’t give up and had to see you. Do you want it to be him? You would be lying to yourself if you said no.

So it’s a surprise when you open the door and see Taehyung standing there with his hands in his front pockets, teetering back and forth on his heels.

Part of you is disappointed, not because it’s Taehyung but because it’s not Jungkook.

“Tae? I said in the group chat that I’m not going out tonight. Didn’t you see my message?”

He looks you up and down and barges in, walking past you.

“And didn’t you see my message? I said you are going out tonight, and I was coming to pick you up. Why aren’t you ready?”

You were so preoccupied with your phone, listening to Jungkook’s message and reminiscing, that you didn’t notice any other messages. But when you go to your chats, you see his words are true.

He plops down on your couch, stretching his arm out on the back and gives you an expectant look, his eyes wide and his brows raised.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? Go get ready,” he makes a shooing gesture with his hand and continues.

“The clubs aren’t open all night—well, actually they are…” his brows furrow as he looks off into the distance for a brief moment, then catches himself, “But I don’t have all night, so let’s go!” he demands with a clap of his hands.

“I’m not going out tonight, Tae. I told everyone I’m staying home.”

You lie on the couch next to Taehyung, your back resting against the armrest.

“Didn’t we just go over this?” he points between the two of you, “You are going out; everyone is already at the club. They got a table, and I’m sure Jimin has already downed a shocking amount of shots, so we have to leave soon if we want to catch up.”

Taehyung taps your knee twice and then shoves your legs off the couch, bringing you to a sitting position. You take a deep breath and throw your head back, crossing your arms while closing your eyes.

“I don’t feel like going out. I want to stay home.”

“And do what? Continue to sulk over pretty tattoo boy?”

You open your eyes and turn your head toward him, pouting, “I was not sulking.”

He stares at you with a raised brow, filled with doubt.

Rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, “I’m just not in the mood, I’ll only bring down the vibe.”

Taehyung turns his body to face you, a sympathetic expression on his face.

“You’re only making this harder for yourself by just sitting around and thinking about him, Y/N. I understand like him a lot—I do, but a guy like that isn’t worth wasting your life waiting for him.”

You look down at your hands in your lap and chip at your nail polish.

“He’s been leaving me messages. He tells me how sorry he is and that he misses me. He sounds like he’s having a rough time, too. That doesn’t erase what he did, I know. But it was just one mistake. He’s a good man, Tae. I’ve always known he wasn’t perfect, but everyone has faults, right?”

Taehyung holds your hand and squeezes it, leaning down to meet your gaze. His voice is careful when he speaks.

“People like him always know the right thing to say. If he were such a good guy, he wouldn’t have used you the way he did. Yes, everyone has faults, but you can find someone whose faults don’t hurt you. It may have been only one mistake, but if he truly cared about you as he claimed, he would have never treated you that way.”

Tears form in your eyes and your voice cracks, “It’s just—I know him; it sounds pathetic, but he has shown me a side of himself that I know he doesn’t show everyone. The real him. And that’s the Jungkook who has my heart. That’s the Jungkook I love. We’ve experienced so much together, it’s difficult to just move on from him.”

“If you don’t try to move on from him, how can you expect to, babe?”

He’s right; you haven’t tried. Throughout this entire period of your ignoring him, you have consistently kept Jungkook in your thoughts. Every time you went out with friends, every time a guy tried to flirt with you, and every time you held your phone—Jungkook. When you woke up, when you were at work, and when you went to bed—Jungkook. Even when you heard a knock at your door, as Taehyung did earlier, you hoped it was Jungkook.

Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook.

Your mind and heart were devoted to Jungkook. Everything revolved around him.

Your tears overflow, and you finally break. Taehyung wraps his arms around you, and you cry into his shoulder. He holds you until you calm down, and your sobs turn into sniffles.

You lift your head and wipe your cheeks.

“I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry, Tae. You came out to have a good time, and here you are consoling me. I have probably fucked up your fun night out,” you croak out, “I must seem so stupid, all hung up over a guy.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, and you certainly aren’t stupid. I would never think that of you. I know how much of yourself you give to someone important to you. I wish you would give yourself to someone worthy, not someone who takes advantage of you. You are an amazing person, and if Jungkook hasn’t realized how lucky he is to have you, then he’s the stupid one, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Tae. Not just for tonight, but for listening to me go on about Jungkook this past month like a sad, broken record. You stuck by me and have been so caring, always validating my emotions. I swear I’m the one who’s lucky and unworthy of you.”

“Nonsense, you know you can depend on me anytime,” he says, patting your head and smiling affectionately.

You smile back, glance down, and see his shirt stained with your tears.

“I ruined your shirt,” you sniffle, pinching at the fabric.

Taehyung looks down at it and shrugs, “Hey, I prefer your tears to stain my shirt rather than Jimin’s vomit,” he jokes to lighten the mood.

You laugh, and he points at your face, his expression bright.

“Aha! There she is! Happy Y/N, I thought I had lost her!” he exclaims.

He turns his head, looking around, arms stretched out as if speaking to a crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, no need to fear; I have managed to make Y/N laugh.”

Taehyung once again proves to be the best friend one could have; you can always count on him to cheer you up and gather the pieces of your broken heart without fail.

“Shut up, Tae. I have neighbours,” you giggle, playfully pushing him.

He joins your giggles and returns your playful push, “Well then, go get dressed! If you don’t, I will run up and down the hallway screaming. I came here to take you out and have fun. Sitting at home alone can’t be better than partying with your insanely funny, incredibly handsome best friend. And if that isn’t enough, Seokjin’s dancing is a sure way to lift anyone’s spirit.”

“Okay, fine,” you agree, getting up with a big smile. The image of Seokjin’s dancing already boosts your mood.

Making your way to your bedroom, you yell out, “But if anyone comments on my swollen eyes, you’ll be dealing with them!”

“I’ve got your back, babe. Don’t worry!”

You can always count on Taehyung.

Tell me, tell me now am I too late Is there somebody new taking my place? Is there somebody’s lips on you Where mine used to be, yeah?

Jungkook parks across the street from your building; he sits in his car, pondering whether it’s too late to knock at your door. Are you already asleep? Should he have waited until tomorrow? If you answer and open it to find him standing there, will you shut it in his face?

He knows right now he’s not your favourite person, but he doesn’t believe you would be so cruel as to turn him away at your doorstep.

He rubs his hands down his face and lets out a deep sigh.

How could he let things end up like this?

He ruined something so special, so sacred. Building a relationship so pure and superior doesn’t happen to everyone, and he managed to have it hanging by a thread.

Your relationship can’t just end because of one mistake—a big mistake, yes, but he believes that what you two have is strong enough to overcome this. The two of you have made so many wonderful, meaningful memories.

Jungkook remembers how good things were before this—before he ruined everything.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

Jungkook never imagined he would witness such a breathtaking sight: you bare before him, glazed eyes and slightly parted lips, lovely sounds escaping as he traced wet kisses along the nape of your neck, down your throat, over the curves of your breasts, pausing to swirl his tongue over a sensitive bud, drawing out his name from your throat, the same one now decorated with shades of blue and purple.

“Please, Kook,” you beg, pleading with him for more, and he is more than willing to give it to you, knowing he can hardly deny you anything.

He smiles, kissing his way back up to your lips, positioning his body over yours and aligning his hips so he can slide into your warmth with a soft thrust, the wetness coating the inside of your thighs showing how aroused he has made you.

You clutch at his shoulders with a moan, nails digging in and creating crescent shapes with every thrust he makes. Jungkook fucks you slow and deep, hitting every nerve within you, making you unravel before him in no time at all. His lips move slowly against yours, tongues twirling together as your legs wrap tightly around his body, drawing him closer and deeper into you, his sighs of contentment pouring into your mouth.

Jungkook is sure this is what heaven feels like: his hands on you, hips rocking against your own as you devour the sounds escaping each other’s lips. You encourage one another until he picks up pace, gazing down at your face, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

The coil in your stomach tightens, twists, and is ready to snap. Jungkook is also at his limit, eyes hooded but maintaining eye contact with yours, his forearms supporting his weight on either side of your body.

Overcome with pleasure, the feeling of his skin against your own, united with you in the most intimate way two people can be. The act is sinful, but fully infused with the profound bond you both share. What you and Jungkook have cannot be expressed in words, and he does not think the two of you need to articulate what you both understand.

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” he husks, gently nibbling at your jaw.

One of his hands moves to where your bodies meet, flicking his thumb over your clit repeatedly. Then you come undone, the release so intense that his name echoes off every corner of the small bedroom. He continues throughout your orgasm, prolonging it until the sensation of your walls tightening around him brings him to his climax, spilling inside of you with a groan of your name, lips pressed harshly to yours, putting everything he feels into a single kiss.

He pulls away, carefully removes the condom and ties a knot at its end before disposing of it and falling onto the bed, shifting onto his side to look at you. The moonlight streams through the window, illuminating your skin in a radiant glow. Jungkook trails his fingertips along the surface of your arm, moving down until he reaches your hip, pulling you closer to him as you tuck your head into his chest.

Jungkook spots the numerous red crescents on your body have already begun to take on a darker colour, almost as deep as the black ink he used for your tattoo. Jungkook wishes for nothing more than the colour of the marks to be so deep that it will cover you forever.

He holds you close, his thumb brushing over the familiar tattoo on your hip— the everlasting mark that brought you two together. You found each other that day months ago when you walked into his studio and had him ink his design on you, and ever since then, you have been a part of his life. The ink serves as a reminder of the bond between you and Jungkook, etched onto your skin just as you are to him.

“You should let me give you another one.”

“What do you think I should get?” you whisper against his chest.

“My name, here,” he replies, his inked finger tracing just above the left side of your chest, right over your heart.

You smile as you push him so that he lies on his back; you move to lie on your stomach between his legs, your chin resting on his chest. His hands come to your back, caressing it up and down.

“Hmm, and you’ll get my name here,” you lightly run your pointer finger over his left pec.

Jungkook lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiles tenderly, and nods while humming in agreement. His fingers linger, skimming your face as his gaze softens. His eyes are filled with adoration as he looks at you.

Jungkook can feel your heartbeat against his stomach; he wonders if you can feel his own under your touch. Both of your hearts are beating rapidly, which he assumes is due to the physical exertion you both just experienced and not from this impassioned moment you two are having.

He can physically feel how much affection there is between you two. He has never felt that before. It’s moments like this that make Jungkook feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

“Aren’t tattoo artists usually against getting other people’s names tattooed?” you tease with a smirk and a raised brow.

Jungkook shrugs with a smirk, his tongue playing with his lip rings, “I live by my own rules.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, “Oh, what a rebel you are.”

Jungkook’s hands go to your sides and tickle you with a gentle pinch.

“Kook!” you laugh as you jolt further up his body.

“Kook!” he mocks in a high-pitched voice, imitating you before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close.

You pout and make a soft ‘hmph’ sound so insanely cute that Jungkook can’t resist the smile spreading across his face; he laughs and then kisses your pouty lips and all over your face. You giggle and lightly tug his necklace with your finger, bringing his mouth to yours for a long, sweet kiss. When you break apart, Jungkook gives one final peck above your left breast.

“I was serious, you know,” he murmurs, voice low. He juts his chin lightly to where he last placed his lips.

“Haven’t you marked me enough?” you stretch out your neck and gesture at the hickey-covered skin.

“I wanna mark you every way I can, baby,” he smiles smugly.

One of your hands plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the other plays with the hoop in his ear. You avoid eye contact, keeping your eyes focused on the earring.

“Tattoos are forever, Kook,” you say sheepishly.

“You’re telling me,” Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head toward his right arm covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He turns his head to kiss your wrist and then cups your face with both hands, making you look at him, “Hey, you planning on going somewhere and not telling me?”

You shake your head, his big hands still holding it.

“Hmm, I’m a bit worried now; I need to hear you say it,” he squints his eyes, teasing.

“No, I’m not going anywhere,” you grin.

Jungkook mirrors your grin and nods, “Good,” he pulls your face closer and nudges his nose against yours, “Because I’m not either.”

He squishes your cheeks together in his hands, making your lips pucker out.

“It’s not easy to find someone this cute,” he coos, shaking your head.

You pull your head from his grasp and lightly slap his chest. His hands slide down to your ass and give it a firm squeeze, long fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

“Even harder to find someone equally as sexy,” he whispers in your ear, his teeth grazing lightly. His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his body against yours.

“Huh, it can’t be too hard, I found you,” you quip, poking his cheek.

Jungkook gives your ass a spank, and you gasp as he flips you both over, with you now under his hovering body.

“Why don’t I show you just how lucky we both are?” his tone dripping with seduction.

The tip of his nose trails down your neck as his lips ghost over your skin, down to the valley of your breasts. He stops to knead the soft mounds, surging forward to swirl his tongue over one of the hardened nubs before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. He hums in satisfaction. He releases it, giving it a gentle bite, and switches to show the other the same attention.

Once pleased, he continues his trail past your stomach and stops at your pulsing heat. He nestles his head between your legs, his hands grip your thighs and spread you wide open, your already slick folds clench around nothing in anticipation.

Jungkook gives your clit a teasing lick before diving in without hesitation. You whimper when his mouth latches onto you, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit, your hands flying into his hair. He groans, his eyes rolling back as he tastes you, his tongue circling your clit and then flicking over it repeatedly before dragging down to press at your entrance. Your hand tightens in his hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole.

“Fuck, Kook,” you whine, grinding harder as your thighs tighten around his head.

He exhales through his nose, eyes crinkling as he smiles into your pussy when you buck your hips against his face. The sequence of sucking, licking, and prodding with his lips and tongue has you both writhing in ecstasy. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against you fill the room. The intimate night of passion continues until the moon gives way to the sun.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

Jungkook is pulled out of his memories when he sees the door of the main entrance to your building open. He watches you step out, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest upon seeing you.

Your short, tight dress hugs your body in all the right places. Your tall, thin high heels complement your legs phenomenally. Your hair cascades down your figure, making you look like an angel. You look gorgeous.

The sight of you would bring any man to his knees. You must be dressed like that to go out for the night, so he must act now if he doesn’t want his drive here to be for nothing. He moves to get out of his car, but just as his hand touches the handle, he sees a man walk out right behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook looks closely at the man’s face; he’s good-looking. He’s sure he recognizes him from your posts. He looks like one of the guys you’ve tagged in your pictures, the ones where he’s had his arm around you. The happy idiot. What was it... Taemin? Taejin? Taewoo?

Whoever he is, he extends his arm for you to link with yours, and you do. You’re about to step down the stairs when you stop and say something to the man. You have an anxious expression, but whatever you say to the man beside you only brings a fond smile to his face. He responds to you and leans down to kiss your cheek.

The cheek that Jungkook’s lips have been on more times than he can count.

And you light up as if he made everything better. You walk down the stairs, arm in arm with the man whom Jungkook worries has taken his place.

Once you step off the last step, you stop once more, unlink your arm, and pull out your phone. The light from the screen shines on your face; you tap your fingers on it for a few seconds before putting it back in your purse. You relink your arms with who Jungkook thinks is the luckiest guy in the world and set off down the street, heading to your destination.

Jungkook feels the wind being knocked out of him. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten out of his car. He stands far enough that you don’t notice him, but close enough to see you perfectly. To see how you were on the phone, the phone that Jungkok knows is full of his messages and calls. To see that you are still ignoring.

Tell me, tell me now, what can I do To make it up to you Won’t you tell me, please? Tell me, please

All the hope and determination Jungkook had when he left his house seemed to have disintegrated. He feels small, much like your figure becomes as you walk further away from him on the arm of another.

Jungkook stares at your back until he loses sight of you as you round the corner. He stands there feeling like he has just been slapped in the face for the second time tonight, but this one stings much more.

What else can he do?

Jungkook doesn’t know how to make it up to you, and at this point, he’s unsure if he’s fighting a losing battle. You seem to be doing just fine without him. It hurts to see you happy when he has been miserable without you.

He needs you to talk to him and to tell him what to do to win you back. Tell him what he has to do for him to hear your laugh, smell your scent, and touch your skin. He needs to have you back in his arms, on his lips—in his life.

He tilts his head back, eyes focused on the moon and how it mocks him, shining brightly while he is filled with darkness.

He stands there, disoriented; all he can do is let out a bitter laugh at the irony that he drove all the way here to watch you walk away from him, now and quite possibly forever.

With a sad smile, he is overwhelmed with questions, out of his mind. Why are you two ending? How can you? How can you two end?  

All your memories together overflow out of his perforated heart. He puts his hand over his chest, trying to block them and keep them inside, but they escape through his fingers.

Jungkook had you by his side and took you for granted; now he is watching you be cherished by another man while he stands by like a stranger in the night.

He doesn’t want to be like this, he doesn’t. He hates this, really hates this.

He doesn’t believe it would hurt this much even if his heart stopped.

Answer your phone I’ve got to talk to you I’m out here in the cold Trying to get through to you, oh

Jungkook never envisioned that when he finally loved someone, he would be left alone and heartbroken, not because you decided to run off, not because you were undeserving, but because he pushed you away.  

He took too long to walk through the flames and got burned. He dove off the deep end too late into a pool of emptiness and hit the bottom.

Jungkook stands in the street, the cold air biting at his cheeks, but he can’t find the strength to return to his car and drive home. He came here on a mission to talk to you face-to-face. He hopes that if he stands here long enough, you might walk back around that corner and come straight to him. He hopes you will answer his plea and do something to fix him. Hold him in your arms and tell him that everything will be okay and that the two of you will work together to mend what has been broken.

But you don’t, and Jungkook’s heart may be beyond repair at this rate.

Jungkook’s heart hurts so badly that it’s strange that he’s even alive.

He should have followed you, chased you blindly, even if you were trying to run away from him. He should have yelled at the top of his lungs that there’s a hole in his heart that can’t be filled, and he’s dying of pain.

How can he forget you? He doesn’t know how to do that.

Like the tattoo he inked on your hip, you are etched in him— an indelible impression on his heart.

You are the only person he wants, your hands to comfort him, your voice to soothe his heart.

He’ll have to settle for listening to your voice through the phone, even if it’s only your voicemail.

Jungkook digs into his pocket for his phone, unlocks it and with your name already on the screen, presses the call button and waits.

Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone

But he doesn’t have to wait for long.

He’s immediately met with a voice, but not your sweet voice; instead, it’s an answering machine.

And now he has been slapped for the third time tonight, so hard that he stands there in the cold, gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles might bleed. He releases a shaky breath as his eyes fill with tears and spill over before he knows it.

Jungkook is hit with the reality that you still refuse to talk to him. You have now blocked his number on your phone and blocked him out of your life.

“We are unable to reach the person you are calling at this time. Please try calling back later.”

↬ so how do we feel? hope he suffered enough for your liking. let me know what you think! muah! 💋

taglist: @bangtans-momma @celticcountrygal @annafarrr

[onlyswan]

dreamboat | jjk (2)

summary: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.

non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive / chapter wc: 15.9k / total fic wc: 30.8k

warnings/content (for full fic): is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? ; smoking ; making out ; mention of nude art ; mention of flashing ; panic attack ; a ghost cameo lol ; s*x scandal ; abuse of authority ; harrassment ; jk throws a punch once ; oc drives a motorbike without a helmet once ; vminjin + yeontan cameos :3 ; tae and jk are the same age tho

<- part one (wc: 14.9k) | spotify playlist (open to song recs <3)

note: yaaay full fic is out 🥹💕 i’ve been so attached to these two for the past month i’m gonna miss them sm :( reblogs and feedback are appreciated i’d love to hear your thoughts 🥺 p.s. it does get pretty heavy so pls take care of urself while reading 🫂 hugs and kisses

—

jungkook lets out a big yawn, removing his glasses so he can wipe off the sleepy tears from his eyes. his phone pings with new text messages and he peers down at the table to read them. 

  01:18am

stop texting.

why are you still awake? you have that big presentation tomorrow. 

you need your brain functioning at full capacity so you can answer the prof’s questions.

he types out his response.

  01:20am

i want to sleep too but i’m not yet done practicing 🥲

if you’re on a mission to make him fall hopelessly in love, it would be safe to say that you’re succeeding. instead of being a distraction, here you are showing concern for his health and motivating him about his studies. he’s not used to having this kind of dynamic with the people he likes. usually he’d be stubborn and stay on his phone, but he puts it down so he can refocus on his slides. he’s excited to do his presentation well and gush about it with you at the end of the day.

twenty minutes later, a rapping at the door disrupts his concentration. 

“he better not be drunk.” he grumbles on his way to the door.

no one else would disturb him at this time but taehyung. 

but it’s not taehyung.

it’s you. 

“i didn’t wake you, did i?” 

“no, no- i was still-” he takes a glimpse at his messy desk. “practicing for the presentation… uhm, i thought you were at work?”

“we don’t have work today.”

you nonchalantly bring out a glass full of green goop from your back, encouraging him to take it.

“here, drink this.”

he stares at it in bewilderment as he slowly accepts it. “what’s this?”

“bedtime smoothie.” 

you sense his disgust and foreboding.

“there’s bananas and cherry juice in there.”

that knowledge emboldens him to take a sip. he licks off the mustache it leaves on top of his lips. “hmm, not bad!” 

“i told you so.” you send him a tight-lipped smile which disappears in two seconds. “do you want some help practicing?”

“oh, that’s right.” his eyes widen. “you’re good at speaking!”

he steps aside so you can pass through the narrow entrance. 

“please come in.”

jungkook is compelled to make himself clear. he hasn’t invested on a shelf. never found the time. his room may look like a mess to an outsider’s eyes but he has an organized system and he’s incredibly resourceful. 

“jungkook… you can’t live like this.”

is it that bad?

his jaw slacks when you pick up a plastic bag on the floor and begin throwing in the scattered empty cans and bottles of caffeine on and around his desk, including the one he hasn’t finished drinking yet. that— he won’t win defending.

“you’ll die at this rate.” you rebuke him calmly. “do you even drink water?” 

“of course i do!” he proceeds to drink the smoothie you made for him. “but you drink a lot of coffee too.”

“not anymore,” you head to his fridge after dumping the plastic bag in the trash. “i’m already adjusted to my job… i’m taking these.”

you bring out the two remaining cans of energy drinks and stuff them into the pocket of your hoodie. 

“you can’t just take them!”

you ignore his protest. “is the smoothie good? you like it, right?”

his shoulders deflate in defeat. he takes another gulp and swallows, nodding happily. “i like it.” 

“then i’ll make you an energy-boosting one when you need it. i received fruit baskets at work. they’d only go bad if i try to eat everything alone.” 

“sounds like a sweet deal,” he grins. 

he’s definitely not complaining. the artificial flavoring of the energy drinks pale in comparison to the real thing. 

“okay, let’s get started then.” you pad over to his desk. 

you hand him his laptop which is displaying his powerpoint before making yourself comfortable on his chair. 

he stands infront of you awkwardly. “we’re really doing this?”

“we are,” you reply curtly, sinking further into the chair. it’s a pretty big chair, even for him. it’s endearing to see you play around with it. “are you nervous? you can’t be nervous.”

“i’m not,” he lies. “i’m a professional!” 

you have no idea that you make him more nervous than having forty other people in the same room. 

he sighs. “hold this for me then.”

you take the glass into your hands, sipping a little. he clears his throat and pretends that didn’t affect him at all. 

“okay, let’s start… good mor-”

“wait-” you shake your head, demandingly waving your hand to the right. “wrong slide.”

—

 

“where are you? i thought you were going to help me with my project?” 

jimin, a friend he met through a school organization two years ago, begins coughing dramatically over the phone. “jungkook, i’m sorry. i’m feeling under the weather.”

jungkook grimaces, stopping on his tracks to berate him. “hyung, i can hear the dj music!”

“ah, yes…” he can practically hear the wheels in jimin’s brain turn. “actually, i’m about to leave the club! since i’m not feeling so well.”

“wow,” he huffs out a laugh. “you’re really terrible.”

“i’m serious! let’s reschedule tomorrow. i’ll buy you dinner so we can catch up too.” 

“fine,” he blows a loud breath. 

“i love you, jungkook-ah.” jimin proclaims with exaggerated affection. 

he makes a noise of disgust. “you’re really drunk.”

“oh, why aren’t you saying it back?” jimin angrily questions him. 

“maybe i will, after you buy me food.” 

“okay,” jimin cackles. “i’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“okay, goodbye.”

he drops the call, still uncertain whether jimin was lying or not. either way, he gets a free meal and he no longer feels the need to complain.

he shrugs and continues his journey home. 

that is until he inhales the unmistakable scent of smoke from the alleyway. 

again, it could be anybody, but there’s a peculiar feeling that won’t let him move forward. deja vú is what they call it. it is often described as bittersweet, but jungkook is nervous. scared even. 

he doesn’t want his gut feeling to be right. 

he knows what your sobs sound like, their effect on him and his heart that is awfully weak when it comes to you, but he wants to be wrong so badly. 

right then and there, jungkook faces a dilemma.

those who hide do not want to be found. 

he has the choice to keep walking, pretend that he was never here. that it doesn’t hurt him to walk away. he can do what he failed to do the first time and not jump in to interpret your crying as a cry for help. 

he stands there like a fool waiting for the stars to spell out the correct answer for him to read. 

unfortunately for him, life doesn’t work that way and there isn’t even one to wish upon. 

you flicked his forehead and erased his memories. if he makes the same mistake twice, then maybe he can use that as an excuse to lessen the burden of regret. 

—

 

you flinch and lift your head in fear when something bumps against your knee, but that fear soon morphs into an entirely new fear when you perceive the person sitting infront of you. 

your bloodshot eyes make out jungkook’s features in the dim light. 

you’re no stranger to that look. you know what you look like. the cigarette tastes terrible, it doesn’t smell better with liquor either. there are teardrops on the ground and your sobs are caught in your throat and they come out as hiccups. you wouldn’t even dare to call yourself a mess, because scattered pieces of a broken whole float on the surface and sometimes miraculously wash ashore. you’re at the rock bottom being eaten alive and you’re not going anywhere else. 

“just walk away,” you croak out, pushing him away with the hand not holding the cigarette. 

he doesn’t budge. you don’t know if it’s because you’re too weak or he’s too strong. 

“i can’t leave you like this.” 

“you can,” you argue. 

“you don’t have to be alone. i’m here.” 

he holds your arms, coaxing you to recognize the sincerity in his eyes. those wide doe eyes, always shining when you reflect on their irises. you wish they could stay that way forever. you wish you could be at peace with that. 

“you can confide in me. you can use me. whatever you need to feel better. ____, please.” 

“you can’t help me.” you bluntly assert. before he begins begging. before he says more swoon-worthy words that would break down the walls you’ve built. “i appreciate the thought, but nothing you can do will make this better.” 

god knows that you’re yearning to hear them, but you still don’t know how much of it you can trust.  

“maybe i can!” he interjects. desperately. his grip on you tightens a little. it steadies your body as your mind and heart fall apart, but you feel suffocated. 

“jungkook, i don’t want to fight right now.” 

“if you just let me try, ____. i’m here for you. i swear i won’t pass judgement or-”  

“you can’t! okay? you can’t!” you break down, uncontrollable sobs making your words less coherent. “you’re just wasting your time!” 

with every morsel of strength you have left, you force yourself to stand up. an unnamed object clatters on the ground and you shove jungkook to the ground without meaning to. 

a combination of hurt and shock flashes across his face. you become racked with guilt.

however, this is what you wanted. this is for the best. you’re supposed to live a quiet life and not get too close with anyone, but you don’t cause a person this type of pain, and you don’t feel this guilty about it, if your hearts were never intertwined. 

you should be the one to walk away. 

every step you take to escape from him is heavy. you’re confused by the contradictions between your mind and heart and the last thing you need right now is confusing. what else can you do but run? 

jungkook wraps his arms around you from behind, stopping you on your tracks. 

“what are you doing?” 

the world stops for a little while.

“let g- let me go!” 

you struggle out of his embrace, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed he let you go so easily. 

“you think a hug’s going to make me feel better and fix my life? are you that naive…? wow, i envy you. if it was that easy, i wouldn’t be at this fucking dumpster with you!”

maybe you’re even angry that he did, pounding away at his chest with rigid fists to break his heart too. your throat is painful and rough from screaming but the thought of losing your voice doesn’t occur to you. apparently, you don’t care that you’re burning your lungs either. the world may very well end at this moment because that’s what it feels like. you have nothing left to lose but this vessel— and this vessel is heavy, worn-out, and incurable. 

you’re an overflowing sink of adrenaline rush, shaking and tearing apart at the seams.

“i never would’ve ruined my hair with this- this stupid color. i wouldn’t be getting cursed at by bigoted strangers because they hate my accent…” 

your forehead collapses on jungkook’s chest. a string of sobs follow the words that were forcefully uttered against your better judgment. you would’ve been fine after a smoke and a good cry, not processing anything so you can settle with being numb instead of jaded. 

“i’d still be studying. i’d become a doctor. i wouldn’t give a fuck about fishes and what they can and can’t eat.” 

—

 

for the first time, your laugh stabs him in the chest instead of making his heart flutter. 

“i’d be living a good life not being bombarded by someone who-” you hit his chest with every word spoken with gritted teeth. “wants to be the fucking hero. i don’t need you!” 

there’s no way. you don’t mean that. you’re just angry. jungkook convinces himself in his head as he openly takes the hits. he did say you could confide in him—use him—and you’re doing it right now. he just didn’t know he’d have to grow thicker skin on the spot to be what you need.

your icy glare pierces through him and renders him motionless. 

“you can’t do anything, so please, don’t feel bad for me.” you sneer. “it’s making me feel bad for you.” 

—

 

you’ve stormed off and jungkook stays right where you left him, wiping away his tears. the last time he cried was when his ex-girlfriend broke up with him. that was over a year ago, it only dawns on him now. 

you’ve been the only person in his mind since that one sunny june day. 

where he stands, the autumn winds are getting colder and the winter is fast approaching. 

just as fast your lives were weaved into a blooming wildflower did it also begin to wither. 

jungkook does want to save you, but he doesn’t want to be a hero. after all the time you’ve spent together, do you sincerely see him as someone who values self-interest most of all? the truth did come out, the snide truth, a bitter pill he can’t swallow. you don’t want to be here. he can’t save you. it can’t be possible when he’s part of the picture you can’t stomach to look at. 

“hyung,” he tries to be strong but his voice wavers, echoing the wretched state of him. “are you still at the club?” 

“i’ll turn on my location.” jimin responds without question, which jungkook is thankful for. “call me when you’re near. be safe, got it?”

“yes, hyung,” he ends the call. 

he inhales sharply, hoping that would alleviate the weight on his chest and allow him to move his feet. the heavy smell of burnt chemicals still hangs in the air. even after everything, he’s envious of the discarded stick of drug on the ground for having touched your lips. 

jungkook turns to leave, but is interrupted by a small object caught underneath his shoe. he picks it up for inspection— a blue lighter hand painted with a goldfish. 

he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

—

 

you woke up with a pounding headache, burdened with immense regret you assume. you deserve it. you don’t remember the exact words you said but you only scream when you don’t know what you’re talking about. you pushed away the only person who cared enough to sit with you in the dark. the line between right and wrong is blurring. you don’t know what you’re doing with your life anymore, if you’re doing anything so that it could be heading somewhere.  

you thought life couldn’t possibly get worse, but here you are anxiously nibbling at your nails as you wait for a man to reply to your texts because you’re scared of losing him.

  08:25am

jungkook i'm sorry about what happened last night i never meant to act that way and hurt you. i was out of my mind

i know you really care about me and i'm grateful for that

please forgive me

  09:13am

[attached image]

you gaze wistfully into the aquarium. the fishes swim around with considerably more energy after their breakfast, and it drives you to wonder if jungkook fed them dinner. last night was the first night you received no messages from jungkook, not even an image alone. 

“i think i fucked it up with your dad.”  

you spot dahlia, and clementine, and coral, and tangerine… blissfully unaware of you drowning in misery.

accordingly, the wildcard emerges from the shipwreck. it swims to you, the glass acting as the barrier that prevents it from kissing your nose. 

it doesn’t do this to jungkook, so you like to think that you’re special. you feel guilty that you failed to treat it the same.

“poor thing,” you hang your head in shame, sniffling. “we haven’t even named you yet.”

—

 

you learned from the new security guard on the night shift that jungkook requested for her to take over feeding for the meantime. three more days pass without any sign or trace of him, and yet you still send him your good morning pictures and you hang out at the lobby waiting for him to come home. 

he has to come home soon. 

he still lives here… right?

  11:47pm  

how long will you ignore me?  

where are you? i'll come to you   

please, let’s talk

 

you jolt on your seat when your phone vibrates with a ping!

  12:01am

jungkook:

meet me at the rooftop

 

you are charged with joy and relief as much as confusion. 

there’s… a rooftop? 

—

 

you stand at the door staring at jungkook’s back, gathering all courage to face him despite your shame eating away at you.

“i didn’t know tenants were allowed here.”

“we’re not,”

he looks back at you, and surprisingly enough, his charming smile melts away your anxiety. you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or bad thing. it’s not right for you to fall in love.

“why are you still standing there?” he chuckles. he sits on a low table with his legs crossed, feet tucked beneath his thighs. he pats the space next to him. “here, sit.” 

with a nod, you close the door behind you. you sit beside him, but with considerable distance, like the first time you sat next to each other. 

“the view is quite nice.”

in consideration of the time, you didn’t expect so many lights. they look like shining stars from where you are, only that you can actually reach for them if you try. you even spot a ferris wheel. although, you’re not certain if it’s from the amusement park jungkook works at.

“it is, isn’t it?”

“do you go up here often?”

“not since the aquarium became our spot.” 

our spot.

you smile to yourself, eyes falling on your lap as you mindlessly fiddle with your fingers. 

“i’m sorry… for what happened.” you pause to swallow the lump in your throat, breathing shakily. 

as ever, it’s difficult to apologize to someone and agree that there are dispensable parts of you. you’re scared that you might cry again infront of him. it never ends well. 

“i-i was having a bad day, and i didn’t want to drag you down with me. but i got overwhelmed by my emotions and i said words i didn’t mean. you didn’t deserve that. i’m sorry.” 

“hey, i understand.” he replies kindly. “it’s also my fault.”

“no, it’s not.” you jump in, not being able to stand him taking blame. “you’re a really good person, jungkook.”

he shakes his head. “i should’ve backed off when you told me to leave.” 

“but i do like being with you.” 

“and you mean that?”

he gazes at you with those endearing doe eyes. you look somewhere else to quell the funny feeling in your heart. 

“of course i do.”

jungkook crosses the distance between you, teasingly bumping his shoulder against yours. “i like being with you too.”

just an hour ago you thought you’d lost him, now he’s here effortlessly making you laugh. perhaps you do take life too seriously, submissive to fear. you weren’t always like this. you wish you could unlearn the new way that you function. 

“so do you forgive me or should i grovel more?” 

“i forgive you.” he rolls his eyes. “i’m not that mean.” 

“apparently i’m the mean one between us.”

“you are,” he chuckles, leaning back and balancing himself with his hands anchored behind on the table. 

for some sick reason, this new position of his leaves you hot and bothered. thankfully, you’ve mastered the art of maintaining a calm demeanor. albeit, it’s not always that you use it for this reason.

“you seriously hurt my feelings back there, you know that?”

“i’m so sorry. i’m really, really sorry.” you apologize more expressively within the more comfortable space the both of you created. “…when is your birthday?”

his forehead wrinkles in confusion at the random question. “why?”

“you’re my friend.” you point out. “we should know these things at least.”

“it’s on september one.” 

“what?!” 

he blinks innocently. “what?” 

“it’s already november!” you point out, taken aback by the fact that you totally missed it. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“you were busy with work. besides, it wasn’t a big deal. i just had beer and meat with my friends.” he shrugs, brushing it off. “when’s yours?”

you rise on your feet, dust off your bottom, and begin marching towards the door.

“where are you going…? yah, ____!”

“i need to do something.” you vaguely inform him, waving your hand. “stay there! wait for me!” 

—

 

“what’s taking so long?” jungkook thinks out loud, scratching his head. 

it’s been fifteen minutes since you left. you couldn’t have forgotten about him already, could you? that might hurt him worse than when you were screaming and punching his chest. he slept over at taehyung’s dorm for a few nights, hoping to find some peace and clarity within a different space, but he was pretty much ready to forgive you when you texted him to apologize, then followed it up with a photo of coral eating. however, taehyung went on and on about his wounded pride, and maybe he did want to see you grovel and feel that he is at some level of importance to you. 

he perks up when the door opens and your head pops out of nowhere, peeking. when did you put on a cap and face mask? did you go out? anyway, you’re so cute, he gushes to himself. 

“close your eyes!” 

“why would i do that?”

“just do it!” you demand with an angry pout. 

“okay, okay- fine!” he surrenders. “i’m closing them now.” 

“no peeking. i see your eyelashes moving.”

“how do you even see from there?!” 

he hears your scoff and the clicking of your shoes as you walk. “you’re not sleek, you know?” 

a series of rustling. a mystery object placed on the table. he gets a whiff of your perfume, powdery and fruity sweet, the next second, you’re tying a silk scarf over his eyes. 

“what’s happening?” he laughs nervously. 

he knows that is not what’s happening, but the impure thoughts enter his mind anyway. 

“i need a minute.” 

you sit beside him, your knee bumping against his. he hears more movements take place. 

“can i remove it now?”

“i said a minute.”

he frowns impatiently. “a minute has passed though.”

“no, it hasn’t.” you counter. “now hush and cover your ears.”

“cover my ears?” he repeats to make sure he heard you correctly.

“yes!”

“why?” he whines. “what is this about?”

“just do it, please?” you plead with him sweetly, covering his ears with your hands as if to demonstrate. 

and since he’s already too deep into this, he obeys your third instruction. he puts his hands over yours, and then you slip away, leaving him covering his ears the way that you wanted. 

“okay, you can look now!”

jungkook removes the scarf over his eyes, and discovers a sight so beautiful, he wants to cry that he can’t permanently capture it in a polaroid. 

this is the first time he’s seeing you in this light, the warm orange glow of birthday candles that paints you spellbinding golden. you’re beaming at him, with a rare smile that reaches your eyes, as you hold up a round chocolate cake topped by fresh strawberries.  

just when he thought it was impossible to fall in love with you harder, you begin singing the happy birthday song. instead of clapping, you sway your body ever so slowly and gracefully. what is arguably considered the jolliest song on earth, you transform into a soft lullaby— the kind that flies you to the night sky and tucks you into bed on the moon, gathers the fluffy clouds and handcrafts them into pillows and a blanket. your voice is light and delicate, sweet as candy. it is an instrument on its own and you do not need anything else. he never knew you were a good singer.

“happy birthday, dear jungkook~ happy birthday to you…” 

this is his best birthday yet, and it’s not even his actual birthday. 

jungkook is stupidly and hopelessly in love with you. 

he welcomes doom, hangs its coat, and pours it a hot cup of tea. 

“i hope you like chocolate. i fought someone for this.” you shyly confess with a laugh. “turns out there’s not many bakeries open at midnight.”

he is speechless. 

his gaze falls on your lap for a moment, where lies an opened plastic clamshell container, two strawberries too small compared to the ones decorating the cake. on the table, a fruit knife sits on top of the cake box. 

you even decorated the bare sides of the cake with half strawberries. he doesn’t think he has seen someone do that yet.  

“i- i like it so much.” he stutters. “you made the cake so pretty.” 

“thank you!” you beam at the compliment. “okay, time to make a wish.” 

he panics a little. he doesn’t know if it’s only a personal or perhaps a universal thing, but he tends to feel pressured when he has to make a birthday wish. he always wants a lot of things. 

“five candles means ‘i’m sorry and happy birthday’ by the way.”

but there is five candles, so maybe he is free to be greedy this time. 

he slowly flutters his eyes shut, and he takes his time to think. after whispering his wish to the universe, he blows out all of the candles. 

“what did you wish for?” 

there is five candles, but he only wished for one thing. 

“if i tell you…” he begins, transfixed eyes tracing down to your lips. “will you make it come true?” 

they part slightly as your chest begins to heave, cranberry stained and inviting. 

he yearns, he craves. he doesn’t want to live with regrets, haunted by the what if’s. all or nothing. you deserve his all. he surrenders everything to your court for the touch of your lips. 

are you thinking what he’s thinking? do you feel the way he does? 

tell him he’s not the only one losing his mind. please. 

and when your eyes lock, there is a palpable electricity none of you can deny. 

“it’s for your birthday. you don’t have to ask.” 

again, the best birthday ever.

without another word, he crosses the short distance, pressing his lips against yours. 

there is no fireworks like in the movies and fairytales. instead, he gets flashes of memories in his mind. all those awkward and comfortable moments, stolen glances, blushing and stuttering, captured images, sleepless nights, tears shed. even the bitter memories inserted make this kiss much sweeter. it’s infinitely better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

he removes his hand tenderly cupping your cheek, also the other that is anchored on the table, blindly searching until he successfully engulfs your delicate hands in his. he holds them, and the board carrying the cake, tightly. 

when you smile against his lips, so does he. you give him a firm peck, so hot that he almost falters on his seat, before breaking away. 

“let’s put this aside first.” you giggle, guiding your restless hands to set it down on the table. “you have chocolate all over your hand.” 

jungkook can hear you, but he’s not listening. he immediately goes for your lips again, and ends up sorely disappointed when you dodge him. 

“whoa, wait. you’ll smear chocolate on my face-”

“you said i don’t have to ask.” he argues.

you narrow your eyes at him.

he hurries with a solution. “i’ll keep my hands behind my back.” and true to his words, he acts as if his hands have been cuffed. 

“that works,” you shrug. 

he is to blame for his nasty torture when you drag yourself closer to him, draping your legs over his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

you’re practically sitting on his lap and he can’t touch you with his dirty hands. ridiculous.

there is the urge to complain, then lost and forgotten after you seal his lips with yours. he is the luckiest man on earth tonight.

—

 

“will you stay the night?”

jungkook’s cheeks are beginning to ache, but he can’t stop smiling for the life of him. how could he not? you’re lying on his bed, and this time you’re both under the covers. it can’t be more perfect than this, the way you’re mirroring each other. he’s admiring your face and you haven’t averted your eyes from his either. 

at this moment, it feels like nothing else in the world matters.

“if i’m being honest, i’m still scared of the ghost.”

“is he bothering you again?” he quirks an eyebrow, prepared to brawl with a bothersome spirit. he is suddenly aware that the lamp is the only source of light in the apartment. “do we turn on another light?”

“no,“ you chuckle at his reaction. “but he appeared in my dream once after that.”

“what about me?”

“you?” you send him a puzzled look.

he grins toothily. “do i appear in your dreams?”

that earns him a sarcastic roll of the eyes. 

“why is it suddenly about you?”

“i’m helping you get your mind off the ghost!”

“can we just… i don’t know…” you avoid his intense gaze, chewing on your bottom lip. “cuddle?”

this is real, right? he isn’t hallucinating? 

he already made out with you until the two of you couldn’t breathe. surely, cuddling is nothing compared to that… but he has pined for you for months. going from zero to a hundred is giving him emotional motion sickness. like a rollercoaster, but arguably more dangerous. and he shamelessly lives for that. 

“oh, so you got mad at me last week for hugging you but now you want to cuddle?” he mocks humorously. 

“change is the only constant in life.” you say as a matter of fact.

and jungkook isn’t very fond of that knowledge, but if it led you to his arms tonight, then he can try to make peace with it. 

he spreads his arms, and you push yourself close with an arm over his waist, until you’re properly hugging him and he has your body cocooned with his. 

he breathes out a sigh. this is heaven.

“so? have you dreamt of me?”

you make a noise of protest, cheek squished against his chest.

“come on, humor me.” he coaxes you into revelation. “it’s my birthday.”

“…we went on a ferris wheel once.“

“really? were we on a date?”

“i don’t remember.”

“what were we doing?” he continues poking.

“i don’t remember.”

“that’s it?” he grumbles. “you must remember something else.”

you giggle. “it was a long time ago, jungkook.”

“and you didn’t dream of me again after that?”

“stop,” you draw back just enough to see his face. “we have more important things to discuss.” 

jungkook gulps nervously. 

more important things like what? the meaning of that kiss…? um, kisses? the label of your relationship? are you really bringing it up right away like this? he imagined he would be the one to do it. 

“there’s one fish left without a name.”

oh… his face falls. 

“have you thought of one?”

“i have, but…” you jut out your bottom lip. “don’t we decide together?” 

beneath the stoic demeanor you parade around wearing, he realizes that you’re just like everybody else, craving to be held and to spend quality time with someone who makes you feel special. 

he doesn’t hold back on kissing you.

“we will!” he pinches your cheek, which brings out your smile. “i’ll tell you what i think.”

“that goldfish actually reminds me of you.”

“really?” 

you nod eagerly.

“how so?” 

“the both of you,” you giggle. “always follow me around.”

his jaw falls slack, not expecting to be called out like that. you’re having fun with the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, huh?

“so you want to name it after me?” 

“something like that, but let’s make your name sound cute.”

you hum as the gears in your brain turn. on the other hand, jungkook is not thinking at all, he’s memorizing your face. maybe it’s an artist’s sickness aggravated when faced with the apple of their eye. 

“jung… kook…” you take a long pause, lips left in the shape ‘O’ due to the pronunciation of his name. “kook…?”

“you know, i do get called jungkookie sometimes.”

“jungkookie…?” you slowly repeat the nickname. 

seconds later, your face lights up. 

“then how about kookie? cookie but with-” you draw the letter into the thin air using your index finger. “a ‘k’?” 

jungkook is relieved that you instantly put two and two together. he didn’t want to be the one to suggest it. honestly, rather than a cute vibe, he’s going for the manly vibe. 

“it sounds so cute. what do you think?”

“i think so too!” 

as long as it makes you look this happy, he’d accept any name that you come up with. 

“okay, it’s official.” you return to cuddling up to him. “i can sleep peacefully from now on.” 

was that bothering you? you truly do care for them. he thinks you might care more than he does. 

“let’s sleep…” 

before closing his eyes, he plants an affectionate kiss on top of your head. the truth is he doesn’t want to sleep. if it was up to him, this moment would stretch into forever. as you slip into unconsciousness, he tries his damn hardest to resist it. he yawns, wipes his sleepy tears dry on the pillowcase, caresses your hair and forces his hand to move again when it falls on the bed. 

“jungkook?” 

he hears your voice in its tiniest form yet.

you’re still awake? 

he barely is anymore.

“mhmm?”

“i really am,” he feels a light tug at the back of his shirt, your weak hand forming a closed fist. “sorry.”

—

 

jungkook wakes up at 5am with his stomach grumbling for food. your positions shifted throughout the night and he lies there cuddling you from behind, spending five minutes or so dwelling on regrets. he pictures the cake in the fridge, still in pristine condition, and how different it could’ve been if he didn’t stop himself after three stolen strawberries. 

after that, he thinks about breakfast. rolled omelette would be amazing right now. he just stocked up on side dishes too. only problem is he forgot to buy eggs. 

who goes to the supermarket and somehow manages to miss the whole egg section? 

jeon jungkook, apparently. 

a challenge arises: getting out of bed without waking you up. he isn’t a novice, but he isn’t exactly an expert either. he figures it’s just based on luck, and he’s… very unlucky.

he manages to slip out the arm you’re using as a pillow, replacing it with a real one hoping that you wouldn’t notice the difference in your sleep. a second later and you’re already stretching out your limbs. 

“where are you going?” you utter raspily, swollen eyes from sleep peering at him.

“out- to buy eggs for breakfast.” he replies in a low voice.

you start to harshly rub off the sleep from your eyes. 

“i’ll go with you.”

“there’s no need.” he strokes your hair gently. “sleep more.”

you shake your head stubbornly. “i need to buy something too.”

you drag yourself off of the bed before he can stop you. from your toes down to the heel, you slightly stumble when your feet touch the ground.

“i’ll brush my teeth.”

—

 

once you and jungkook step out of the building, you both find that it’s still before sunrise, but the street lamps are already turned off. everything under the sky is washed with a shade of blue. it feels almost illegal to be here with no other souls walking the streets, but you can breathe a little easier, and you’re warm because jungkook is holding your hand inside the pocket of his jacket. 

what was supposed to be a stolen glance turns into an enamored gaze.

“you look pretty.” 

“so do you,” the two corners of your mouth lift into a quick, shy smile. 

“yah, jungkook!”

that’s taehyung’s voice.

his best friend approaches from the opposite direction, a pomeranian on a leash waddling and wagging its tail beside him. despite the distance, jungkook can already see his smirk poking fun at him. 

count on him to disrupt a perfectly romantic and peaceful moment.

as soon as they meet halfway, jungkook shows him a grimace. 

“what are you doing here?” 

“to return your camera,” he waves the silver film camera, its strap wrapped around his wrist. “i’m taking tannie on a walk so i decided i’d bring it over.”

“okay, give it and go on your way.” 

jungkook snatches it from him, wearing the camera around his wrist as the rightful owner. 

when taehyung finally sets his sight on you, jungkook’s fear of embarrassment instantly kicks in. if he says something stupid, he swears to god— he lets go of your hand in favor of putting his arm around your shoulder, gently tugging you closer to him. 

“you must be ____!” taehyung snaps his fingers when he, at last, recalls your name, which jungkook knows he’s grown tired of hearing. “nice to meet you! i’m taehyung.” 

“ah, yes…”

jungkook senses your awkwardness. he presses his lips into a thin line, sending his best friend a threatening glare that screams ‘i know i’m a hypocrite, but don’t embarrass me.’

“it’s nice to meet you too.” you offer him a polite bow. 

“yeontan seems to like you a lot.” taehyung laughs, gesturing at his dog who is nuzzling its face against your shin. 

jungkook also smiles in endearment. that’s another animal drawn to you for some unknown reason. he can’t say he’s surprised. 

“does he bite?” you cautiously ask.

“no, he’s nice. you can pet him.” 

you nod, bending down to gingerly scratch yeontan’s fluffy ears. “hello, yeontan.” you quietly greet him with a voice so sweet. 

“honestly, ____ looks familiar to me. have we met before?” 

“must be when she rode the dreamboat before.”

“i don’t think that’s it though?” taehyung tilts his head, still racking his memories for your face. “i think i saw her more recently, but maybe not with pink hair.”

you stiffen beside jungkook, knees going weak out of the blue. you straighten up, but you keep your head slightly bowed down, hair falling over your face. 

“that’s impossible. maybe it was someone who looks like her.” 

“ah, maybe,” 

taehyung rubs the back of his neck, giving in to the theory.

“alright then, tannie is getting hyper.” he snorts at his pet trying to run away but is held back by its leash. “see you around, ____! i’ll see you at work, bro!” 

“sorry about that.” jungkook intertwines your fingers again. “let’s go.”

he moves forward, and you get left behind. 

“____?”

his concern grows when he observes your despondent body language. 

“are you okay?” 

“huh? oh- i’m okay.” 

you snap out of it, but as you walk to the convenience store together, jungkook gets the impression that something is weighing on your mind. 

—

 

jungkook watches you move around the store through the viewfinder of his camera, zooming in on your face when you whip your head around. it fails to capture the countless packs of lozenges you’re hugging to your chest.

“miss ____, who are you buying so many candies for?” 

you blink down at them before innocently staring back at the camera. “they’re for my co-workers. it’s flu season so many of them are getting sick.” 

—

with the sun returning to reign over the vast sky, the shade of blue has been replaced by an orange hue. the two of you walk back to your apartment building in silence. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, if it’s his fault or not, but your mood changed after your encounter with taehyung. 

you’ve decided you want some space and jungkook respects that. the entire time, he thinks about how his hand feels empty without yours. is he being paranoid? he feels like he’s already woken up from a dream too good to be true, crafted out of his greatest fantasies, and he’s going to be thrust into a nightmare— learning that none of it was real. this endless push and pull with you, he’s grown to be somewhat ill at ease in your presence. 

he wants it to go away. 

he moves closer, content with the mere brush of the back of your fingers against his, but that small pleasure is robbed from him when you pull your hand away. 

“let’s stop here.” 

the decisive tone of your voice instantly fills him with dread. 

you turn to face him, and he searches your eyes for any trace of emotion. sadness, or fear, or even humor… but he gets nothing. 

“let’s stop seeing and texting each other.”

and he’s scared most of all when you’re impossible to read. just when he thought he had managed to slither past your walls, he is met by larger and stronger ones with welded spikes.

“what are you talking about?” 

“i don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” 

you said it like it’s nothing. like you haven’t consumed his every thought since he saw you crying and you broke his heart without him knowing your name. like you haven’t been breaking his heart over and over again and he still can’t bring himself to detach from you. 

“what is this joke? it’s not really funny.” 

but he laughs anyway, or else he’d start crying, and you’d want him less. 

“just forget all about me.” 

his muscles tense. even now, he doesn’t know if he’s angry, but he is lost and it hurts so much, and he doesn’t know how else to express it without appearing weak. 

“you think that’s something i can just do overnight?”

“what makes it so hard?” you raise your voice. the venom stings without the bite. “you don’t even know me that well!” 

“then what was last night even about?” he hisses, hands balling into fists. “did you do that just to fuck with my feelings? am i just a game to you? what the fuck is your problem, ____?”

“you told me to use you to make myself feel better!” 

it completely catches him off guard when you stomp your feet and produce guttural screams— it borders on a childish tantrum— you damage your throat in doing so, voice coming out high-pitched and scratched up. 

his jaw clenches, straining to hold back his tears. the sun has risen and you’ve come to your senses. he regrets opening his eyes and acknowledging the morning. 

“it didn’t work— is that what you’re saying? is that why you’re throwing me away?” 

he doesn’t get a verbal answer, but your glassy-eyed stare and labored breathing have answered enough. 

“wow, that hurts…” he chuckles sarcastically. “yah, seriously- i have to give it to you. i’m shocked… you’re good. you’re a good actor.” 

he uses his middle finger to wipe the corners of his eyes, acting as though they are tears of amusement.

“you know, out of everyone i liked… you have to be the most cruel.” 

jungkook’s pride has never been this crushed. he feels utterly infuriated and humiliated. yet another exchange of ‘i should have listened’ and ‘i told you so’ between him and his best friend. he’s also sick and tired of his heart leading him to the opposite direction of the love he deserves. 

“i hope you find some other lunatic who would let you use them too. have a good life.” 

this time around, he walks away, and he would like to think that he did it on his own terms. 

—

 

jungkook loses his appetite after that. he informs his manager that he won’t be able to go to work because he’s feeling under the weather, then he drags himself back to bed. 

your scent has clung to the pillowcase, the sheets… 

it’s unbearable.

despite his lack of energy, he forces himself to set up the extra bed on the floor. he expected himself to have difficulty falling asleep, but the amalgamation of physical and emotional exhaustion pulls him down under.

he wakes up again in the afternoon. he ignores the cake in the fridge, instead snacking on yogurt and crackers while watching a movie on his computer. he takes a long shower after and buries himself in assignments until dinner time rolls in. 

by this time, he assumes taehyung has blabbed about what he saw this morning. his friends must think he’s out here relishing in the honeymoon phase. how he wishes it was true. 

he has that whole carton of eggs but he doesn’t have it in him to cook anymore. maybe it’s best that he surrounds himself with people, disrupt his depressing thoughts with loud chatter, and so he makes plans to go to the street market. 

“wait!”

he sprints to the elevator, managing to slip his arm between the doors before they close entirely. 

under different circumstances, this would’ve been fate instead of bad luck.

—

you stand your ground as jungkook enters the elevator, not sparing him a glance. just like you wanted, he also treats you with indifference. it’s hard to breathe in an enclosed space with him now that he hates you. 

two girls from the eleventh floor enter; they stand infront of you and jungkook.

“did you find the video?” the girl infront of you, with the blonde hair, asks impatiently. 

“wait- i’m looking for it.” her friend, you assume, replies as she is focused on aggressively scrolling and tapping on her phone screen.

“having a sex scandal with your professor? wow, that’s really something. how does that even happen?” 

your blood runs cold.

from that statement alone, you can make an educated guess on what exactly they are talking about, but your brain tries to reject the thought. there are many scandals going around these days. maybe they’re talking about somebody else. you hope they are. does that make you a bad person?

“that’s not confirmed, though. the guy’s face doesn’t show in the video… oh, i found it!”

she presents her phone screen to the blonde-haired girl, and you feel as though gallons of ice have been dumped over your head. through the gap between their arms, you get a good view of your face. of the video you were forced to watch so you could acknowledge your sin… the video that not only damaged your reputation but stripped you away of everything. your dignity, your dreams, your people, the essence of your being. 

you don’t need to look to know that beside you, jungkook is also secretly watching. 

you’re trapped. 

“this was really popular at snu but it suddenly got spread outside. my cousin who studies there said the girl’s parents are like- super rich- and they tried to bribe the university, but she still got kicked out. i think her name is ____?”

you bow your head to hide your face, vision gradually going blurry. strangers drop your name so casually to tell the shortest life story known to man. they discard the majority of the parts, retain and distort what entertains them, and in the end, they decide who you are. 

you knew it was going to happen eventually, but this isn’t how you wanted jungkook to learn.

you didn’t want to be here for it. 

“wow, she’s going at it.”

a scandalized gasp. 

“no wonder men are going crazy over this. even the quality is-”

“insane, right?!” the storyteller whisper-shouts. 

“but… what if she doesn’t know she’s being recorded? getting kicked out sounds a bit unfair, no?” 

“no, no- she even holds the camera when they switch positions. watch!” 

you can’t. you can’t take it anymore. you turn away, squeezing your eyes shut in extreme anguish. 

you don’t realize that you’re shaking until jungkook holds your hand tightly, it’s almost crushing. 

“ah, what are you doing?! turn it off! turn it off! it’s too disgusting from this angle!” 

you look at him in shock, for a split moment you forgot he was there. his features have softened; so does your heart. 

although you can’t exactly figure out how he’s feeling, you’d take anything that isn’t disgust. 

the elevator reaches the ground floor. 

as the girls take their leave, you also attempt to step out— but jungkook doesn’t let you. he grips your hand tighter and he presses the button of your apartment floor. 

“why did you- i need to go to work…” you meant to chastise him, but your voice comes out small. 

“stay a little bit. it’s still early.” he speaks to you softly, wiping off the beads of cold sweat on your forehead. 

when did that happen? 

“no, i need to-” 

you feel dizzy; the walls are closing in on you. the turning of your stomach is bordering on intolerable. you lurch, pushing him away as you clamp a hand over your mouth and gag uncontrollably. you’ve had to experience this humiliation in school hallways, public spaces… in front of your friends, your parents; in the dean’s office. this is the first time your body is having this type of reaction; you feel physically sick, like your body is shutting down. 

he rubs your back as an effort to alleviate your ails. “are you okay?”

you could answer, but what’s the point? you’re breaking down in front of him again. you’re no longer the mystifying neighbor he obviously yet secretly cherishes. he has discovered the missing puzzle piece you could never bury even if you died trying. 

“did you enjoy it?”

“what?”

you wish he would stop looking at you with those big, sparkly eyes. at this moment, they’re making you feel small. 

“the video. was it fun watching it too?”

the silence is suffocating.

he utters your name. he doesn’t know what to say; you don’t know what you want to hear either.

“it doesn’t change the way i see you.”

“bullshit,” you spit out— a knee-jerk reaction. 

“look, i-i don’t know what happened but this isn’t right. you don’t deserve this. you can sue ever- wait! ____!”

the elevator opens and he chases after you, effectively blocking your path.

he has officially wore you down. 

“it’s not me,” you declare near to tears instead of pushing him away. “it’s not me, jungkook. i d-don’t know how they- they did it. i know it looks so real but it’s not me. i swear-”

and as an act of desperation, after months of having given up on proving it’s all some sort of well-orchestrated deception, your hands come up to the buttons of your blouse.

“it’s not my body.”

“no no no- you don’t have to do this! this isn’t right!” jungkook freaks out and binds your wrists with his hands, unwillingly using his strength on you when you fight back. he anxiously glances at the camera monitoring the hallway. “stop, stop-”

“i just need one person to believe me.”

“i believe you, okay?” he captures your wrists in one hand, the other tenderly caresses your cheek. “i believe you. i promise.”

he cradles your head on his shoulder, hugging you so tightly it almost feels like you’re one person.

“when the girl said you might not even know you were being recorded… the terrible thoughts i had- like what if he…” 

it’s too much alone in his head. he can’t bring himself to say it into the universe.

“but you didn’t get hurt, right? nothing like that happened? it’s not even real.” he sniffles, holding you tighter as if that is still possible. “that’s a relief… i mean- this, this is bad, what happened to you is. but i was scared.”

you remain there, dumbstruck and motionless. the line between standing and letting jungkook carry your weight has blurred. 

you wish he would never let you go.

—

 

jungkook brings you to his apartment, sits you down in the kitchen, and takes out his birthday cake from fridge. he conveniently finds two pairs of chopsticks in a plastic bag on the table and offers you one, which you accept without thinking. you think he understands that you don’t want to talk about it but you can’t be alone right now either. 

chocolate is supposed to help raise one’s spirit, doesn’t it?

well, it tastes delicious, and jungkook is with you. you feel a little less shitty. 

he can’t sit still, though. 

he cracks open the eggs he bought this morning into a bowl and starts chopping up vegetables to be mixed into it. all the while you sit and watch in silence. no, in peace. the rhythmic tapping of the knife against the chopping board is like music to your ears. even the sound of the oil crackling as he pours the beaten eggs into the frying pan. 

you abandon the endorphin-inducing treat on the table. you saunter over to jungkook in search of something else more associated with love, sneaking your arms around his torso. a tidal wave of relief washes over you. this feels more like resting, and you can’t believe you’re saying this, better than drugs. as it turns out, you’ve been homesick for a body you haven’t touched. a hug can’t fix your life, but it may convince you that it’s possible to survive an unfixable life. 

however, the key difference between jungkook and nicotine is that you can’t simply have jungkook because you want to. 

what he has unleashed upon you is greed.

“i’m sorry,” the more you apologize, the easier it becomes, but you’re also growing sick of it. “i didn’t mean what i said. i was scared of your reaction when you find out so i pushed you away… i keep taking you for granted. i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay, i understand.” he rubs your forearm comfortingly. “just don’t do it again… it really hurt.” 

“i like you too.” you confess like you’re running out of time. 

you no longer have room for apprehension. you can’t gamble with your chances once more when there’s not much left. 

“i wasn’t playing with your feelings. up until earlier, i thought i’d never be able to let you know, so i’m doing it now. i like you.”

a chill runs along your spine. it feels immensely intimate— how jungkook slowly takes a hold of your hand and guides it to his soft lips, pressing a long kiss to your skin. 

“i like you too, a lot.” his laughter makes his body vibrate, waking up the slumbering butterflies in your stomach. “incase i haven’t made it obvious enough.”

—

“will you stay?”

you nod your head as you joyfully munch on your fresh homemade meal. “they’re already forcing me to use my vacation days anyway.”

he makes a noise of surprise. “you’ve never missed work?”

you shake your head no.

“rude clients aside, i like what i do. it helps me keep my mind off…” you wave the radish-bearing chopsticks. “things.” 

he only nods, ruffling your hair affectionately. “you should eat well, okay?”

“you too!” 

you feed him a big bite of your omelette, and then rice, and then kimchi. 

it results in stuffed cheeks and aggressive chewing, but you look especially happy watching him eat. jungkook assumes that it’s just how you express your affection, and it’s euphoria to be at the receiving end. 

—

you found your way back to where you were last night— jungkook’s warm bed. comfy pajamas and tangled limbs. everything went to shit after you left, so if you were to get stuck here forever, he wouldn’t disapprove. 

he listens to you talk as half of his mind is preoccupied by innocently kissing every inch of the exposed skin of your face and neck.

“i’m going to the salon tomorrow.”

he inwardly groans against your neck when your fingers card through his silky yet messy hair, twisting and tugging.

“what color should i color my hair? red? orange? brown?”

“red sounds really great?” he draws back in excitement. “but i’m going to miss your pink hair. how did you maintain it for so long?”

“i only chose it because it doesn’t look good on me.” 

“that’s ridiculous!” he exclaims.

you snort. “i thought if it doesn’t fit me then it would seriously change the way i look.” 

“then you were very wrong. it fits you so well.” he passionately insists that you see yourself from his point-of-view.

“you’re ridiculous.”

you don’t believe him, but he still earns himself a kiss on the lips. 

“have you ever thought of getting a lip piercing?”

“why?” he fails to hide his smug grin. “would it look good on me?”

“mhmm, i imagine so.”

you lazily trace his lips with your thumb. it’s suddenly making him dizzy. 

“should i get it then?”

“nope,” you reply with finality. “too many girls would fantasize about kissing you.” 

he bursts out laughing. “isn’t that too much of a stretch?” 

“i’m a girl! i’d know!” 

“so you’re the jealous type, huh?” he cockily quirks an eyebrow.

“i’m not,” you scoff.

“possessive?” 

“maybe,” you shrug.

“cool,” he chuckles. “you want to keep kissing?”

you don’t answer and instead you meet his lips halfway with a tug at the collar of his shirt. you’re an amazing kisser; his brain goes haywire once you tilt your head and you kiss him deeper, tongue sneaking in for a taste. he doesn’t want to kiss anyone else again. 

as the tension escalates into something hotter, your wandering hand manages to slip under his shirt, teasing and caressing his skin. fuck, he feels like he’s running a fever. however, when your fingers begin tracing and teasing the waistband of his calvin klein boxers, much as it feels heavenly and stirs something feral deep within him, he has to pull away. 

not too fast. 

he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. he’s afraid you’re not thinking straight.

“are you free this weekend?” he asks as he catches his breath, tongue swiping over his swollen lips. 

“saturday night,” you reply with a drunk smile. 

“since you granted my birthday wish, shall we make your ferris wheel dream come true?” 

your smile fades away a little. “where you work?” 

he nods, but he senses your hesitation. “but we can go to a different one, if you’d like.”

as your silence stretches, he also begins to regret having asked you in the first place. after what happened only hours ago, you must not want to go out in public and risk reliving that experience. 

“…doesn’t it bother you that your friends may have seen the video already?” 

at that moment, taehyung’s voice rings in his ears.

‘honestly, ____ looks familiar to me. have we met before?’

his heart breaks upon the sight of genuine fear swimming in your eyes. he dips his head to press a kiss on your forehead, and he hugs you tight. and tighter. he doesn’t pray much, or ask big questions, but he despises it when bad things happen to good people. he wants to protect you, but how?

“i’d tell them the truth. i’d fight for your case.”

“but what if they don’t believe you…?”

—

a deafening crash resonates in the break room as taehyung’s body slams against the lockers before collapsing on the floor. 

“ah, seriously! i said it’s not her!”

“what the fuck, dude?!” taehyung yelps as he sits up, putting a hand over his assaulted cheek. he’s more offended than hurt if he’s being honest.

as it turns out, it does bother jungkook.

taehyung’s phone landed a few feet away from him. the video is still going, and unlike the people in the elevator, he didn’t have the courtesy to keep it muted. obscene moans and sounds of skin slapping repeatedly play from the speakers at a low volume. 

“it’s so clear, look! how can it not be her?!” 

“it’s edited! it’s ai, you fucking idiot!” jungkook scowls at him. 

he picks up the phone, teeth gritted in anger as he exits the video and discovers that it’s posted at an adult website. the view count has reached five digits and the comment section is flooded. he knows this isn’t the only place it’s posted. hell, other people could have it downloaded. although it’s not your body, it’s still you being violated and lusted after. he feels sick to his stomach. 

“you should’ve said that from the start!” 

he looks away for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, hard, hoping that would erase the explicit images and thumbnails from his memory. after gathering himself together, his eyes zero in on the report button. 

he clicks ‘submit’ before he crumbles, weakly sitting down on the chair. 

taehyung rushes to his phone that was tossed carelessly on the table. “ah shit- the screen is cracked!” 

if this is how he feels, then he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. 

he stares at the floor, eyes unfocused. the world goes on and his back remains hunched over as he struggles to make sense of what he should do. 

—

 

when you were called over to the human resource department, you didn’t exactly prepare yourself to watch your alleged sex scandal on a 21.5-inch computer monitor. the light from the screen reflects on your skin. you have to harshly claw at the skin of your knee to stop it from anxiously bouncing; you force yourself not to also gag when the you on the screen chokes and gags. 

“was this reported to you,” you swallow the lump in your throat, shifting your stare to the man in suit and tie. “or did you find it on your own?” 

“miss ____,” he leans in on the table, clasping his hands together. the golden band around his finger shines under the dim lighting of his office. “do you even understand the kind of trouble you’re in?” 

“am i being fired?”

“but you don’t have to be.” he bares his teeth as if he’s delivering good news. you long to destroy his face and his condescension with your bare hands. “i believe we can agree on an arrangement.”

“what do you mean…?” you ask carefully, grasping the tiny bit of hope that what you have in mind isn’t what he meant. 

“i think you know what i mean. you’re smart.”

your heart drops to your stomach when he side-eyes the screen.

“do you expect me to beg for my job and do the same things i did in the video?” 

“why?” his tone then becomes threatening. you begin to hear your heartbeat thumping loud in your chest. “you won’t do it?” 

but if you allow yourself to be intimidated and treated less than a human being worthy of dignity and respect, then you may never be able to forgive yourself. 

your sharp eyes and your cutting words make up for its trembles.

“you’re right, i’m smart. i know you don’t have enough grounds to fire me. you seriously think you can manipulate me this easy?” you contemptuously push over his name plate, the bronze metal tumbling and clashing with the wooden desk. “you’re not qualified for this job.” 

your dismissal of his authority bruises his ego. he holds you in a hostile glare.

“if i were you, i would stop talking. right now.” 

“or what?” you challenge him. “you’ll hit me…? what would your wife think when she hears about this conversation?” 

his face is contorted with anger and frustration, but he is visibly holding himself back from doing something else that would damage his career. 

“i plan on suing the people who are responsible for this. i’d appreciate it if-” you gesture at the monitor. “you can delete your copy too. i’ll clean my table and leave.” 

“you have a real attitude problem, you know that? you need your eyes opened to the reality of life.” the alarms in your head starts blaring when he slowly gets up from his seat. “i think i know what i need to do to fix it.” 

“don’t you dare touch me.” you grit your teeth, tears welling in your eyes as he circles his desk. “i will kill you.” 

he squats on the floor beside you, wearing a mocking grin. you want to move away, but the chair is too small, and you’re determined to show him that you have no fear. 

“you’ll kill me?” 

he grabs a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back, and a scream is ripped out from your throat. the pain is mind-numbing; if he does it long enough, your guess is that you’d surely faint. he forces your head to the direction of the monitor. 

“who you should be killing is the man who put you in this situation.” 

you close your eyes. you try not to let him get under your skin, but the tears rolling down your cheeks are your self-made traitors. 

you have. in your head. a million times. is it truly a man? is he even alone? 

as you tiredly re-open your eyes, you unleash the pepper spray you’ve been holding under your thigh and begin spraying it all over his face. when he collapses on the floor, screaming and clawing at his own skin, your hand also falls limp over the armrest. you take a deep breath, blinking at the mess you made with heavy eyelids. 

does it hurt that much or is he simply dramatic?

you’d stay and enjoy his demise, but you decide he’s not worth your time. 

“____, come back here!” 

“oh-” you freeze on your tracks. 

you pull the lace of your company id over your head, hurling it at his face. he rolls over with an agonized groan. 

“i quit!” 

you unlock the door, dry your tears, and walk out of his office with your chin held high.

—

you stand at jungkook’s door, staring down at your shoes. you’ve been contemplating on whether you should knock or not. you want nothing more but to crawl into his arms, but a part of you is holding back. is it right to drag him into your world? you’d hate it if he becomes infected by your sadness. it broke you to pieces when he cried because he thought you were hurt. what would his reaction be if finds out what happened tonight? 

“____!”

jungkook approaches with a plastic bag from a 24/7 restaurant nearby. judging by his tousled hair, he must’ve just woken up from a long nap. and you think to yourself—he’s so handsome—as he walks over to you and you scramble to collect yourself. 

“have you been waiting long? sorry, i had to buy dinner.”  

“i just got here.” you deny. 

“is that so?” he stops infront of you, eyeing your outfit. “is everything alright? you’re home from work so early.”

“i went home.” you force a smile. “i’m not feeling so well.”

it takes everything in you not to cry when he starts stroking your hair with the gentlest hand. 

“what’s wrong…?” he frowns. he worriedly presses the back of his hand on your forehead, then your neck. “you are a bit hot.”

“i think i just need some more sleep.” you dismiss the topic quickly, throwing your arms around his neck for the hug you’ve been yearning for since you walked out of that office. 

his free arm wraps around waist, pulling you taut against him. he doesn’t ask you anything. like you, he closes his eyes, and he nuzzles his cheek against you, not taking any second for granted. 

  —

  you spend the remaining days before saturday locked up in your apartment, withholding the fact that you quit your job from jungkook. with work gone and social media apps wiped out from your phone, there’s not much to do. just like always, you feed the fishes and converse throughout the day over the phone. they eat less and less as the weather gets colder. you bring up the growing size of the fishes and he agrees that they should be moved into a bigger tank soon. he sends you photos of him bored in class and you send him photos of you in bed. every second that passes by, you feel guilty for holding on to him until the very end. 

you greet him with a radiant smile, opening the door just enough for him to see your face. you can tell that he styled his hair, sprayed on more perfume than usual. he looks absolutely dashing. it almost makes you mad. 

“are you ready?” 

you can feel the crushing weight of everything that hides behind the door. your clothes, your shoes, your self-care, your stacks of medical textbooks… your entire life packed in boxes and bags. 

jungkook was right. out of everyone he liked, you must be the most cruel. 

—

he doesn’t take you to his workplace, and instead brings you to their largest competitor. the amusement park is swarmed by locals and tourists alike, waiting for the firework show to commence. you hide your face with a thick scarf wrapped around your neck. you’ve been waiting, freezing, in line for over an hour, but you don’t mind it at all. it only means more time spent with jungkook. 

you take turns in biting on the pretzel he bought to get rid of your boredom, happy and content in your shared bubble among the hundreds of voices within the vicinity conversing all at once. you become the other half of those lovey-dovey couples people cringe at in public. every now and then you and jungkook mimic a stranger’s voice, or the instrumental music from the nearby rides, and you laugh until your tummies ache. he hugs you to warm you up and you reward him with a kiss on the cheek. 

“your hair looks even prettier in person.” jungkook compliments you with stars in his eyes. 

“thank you! it turned out better than i expected. i’m really happy about it.” you gush, confidence renewed. you eat the last piece of the pretzel happily. “red or pink?”

“okay, red does suit you better,” he admits. “but i still think you were also beautiful in pink.” 

“since you’re always saying that, i’m starting to believe it.” 

“you should, because it’s true.”

“have i ever told you that you’re handsome?”

he shakes his head with a half-amused, half-sheepish smile. 

“well, you’re very handsome,” you declare playfully, but you believe it a hundred percent. 

“thank you,” he bursts into a fit of giggles, and it delivers you a special kind of joy— making him happy.

“lemonade?” he offers you the drink he’s holding. 

you slot the straw between your lips, taking a few sips. your eyes widen in surprise, also delight. “it’s hot?” 

“it’s good, right? i feel so warm.” 

he sips on the drink himself. at the same moment, the line begins to move. 

“oh! it’s our turn!”

he grabs a secure hold of your hand, not allowing a slither of chance of you slipping away from him. you give out your tickets, and the remains of them returned, one of them jungkook takes and the other, you slide into the pocket of your shoulder bag.

“oh, it’s too high-”

your nervous pondering is interrupted by a yelp, thanks to jungkook effortlessly lifting you into the moving cabin with his hands on your hips. with a boyish grin, he jumps in after you. 

—

he curiously watches you set up your phone on the parallel side of your shared seat, you and him filmed by the front camera and displayed on the screen. he chooses not to say anything, but he is pleasantly surprised that you are the first one who initiated on recording this memory. 

once you fix it into the perfect angle, you return and sit beside him with a hint of satisfaction painted on your expression. but as soon as the the cabin quakes mildly, it morphs into nervousness. 

“it’s okay, it’s normal.” he strokes the back of your head, reassuring you. “are you afraid of heights?”

you scoot closer to him, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment when you innocently lay your hand just above his knee. “i try not to be.” 

“i was going to suggest the rollercoaster next, but maybe not.”

once again, the cabin moves, causing a whimper to emit from your throat. your nails begin to dig into his thigh, their sharpness dulled by his denim pants. 

“anything but that- i have bad memories with the rollercoaster.”

“maybe i should sit on the other side to balance ourselves bett-”

“stay!” you quickly pull him back down, resulting to another shake. “in my dream, we sit next to each other.”

“oh,” his lips shape into a smirk. “anything else i should know about?”

“you had your arm around me.” you bat your eyelashes.

he does as you request, hugging you to his side.

“like this?”

you shake your head with a sound of disagreement, moving his hand from your arm down to the curve of your waist. 

“you suddenly remember everything.” he remarks with a teasing squeeze of your flesh. 

you sheepishly smile, shrugging. “eh, i remember this much.” 

he loves moments like this— when your innocence rises to the surface and allows him a glimpse of your purest parts. they completely contradict everything your brain leads you to think is for your protection. you don’t want to be alone, and you do want to be held.

amidst his bittersweet musing, the night sky begins to be lit up by a sequence of launched explosives, shooting off glowing embers that descend slowly through the air. 

he jolts on his seat and clings to you as a result.

“ah, that scared me!” he whines in annoyance.

you spare his scaredy-cat moment a short giggle. you barely pay him any mind; you didn’t even look at him. jungkook decides to watch the fireworks from your wonder-filled eyes. the colors soar across your irises— he can’t really differentiate the silver and the gold; there’s also blue and green; a lot of red. 

his view from here is one-of-a-kind. he temporarily mistakes you for a painting. brings out his phone. snaps photos of you like one instinctively does in an art gallery. 

the mortification only sets in when your eyes meet the camera and upon realizing, you give him your dazzling smile. 

“you should watch the fireworks too.” you scold him lightheartedly, redirecting his hands outside. “they’re amazing.”

and he obeys you. 

for a short while.

you catch him longingly gazing at you sooner the second time around. he likes that he doesn’t need to look away anymore because his feelings are already out in the open, and most importantly, reciprocated. he catches your eyes flicker to his lips. he swears this is the most romantic scene of his life. will anything ever come close? you cup his cheek in your delicate hand, bringing your plush lips to his. he wonders how many times you also hesitated to kiss him before. how long would it take before he has kissed you more times than he didn’t?

 

—

jungkook is glued to his phone, walking at a slower pace behind while you search the spacious parking lot for your motorbike. 

the wicked reality he stole you from momentarily waves at him as a reminder that ignoring it doesn’t make it disappear. a notification from a fan that says they found a clip of your video on another social media platform and reported it there too. a notification containing the link. he clicks on the app and finds that his latest video has reached almost half a million views. 

technology has gone too far. how is there no law for this yet??? someone's life is ruined 

what is this. you've totally ruined the video for me

jungkook!! when are you going live again?

everyone stop spreading the video around!!!!!!!!!! report it if you see it!!!!

but how come you suddenly made a ten min vid talking against ai so passionately? do you know this girl personally?? haha

lol? he already talked about ai in a live before. his follower would know that he knows a lot about editing and technology too. hes using his knowledge for good. stop assuming

it was obvious from the start ㅠㅠ the expressions look a bit unnatural. this is unsettling.... i feel so bad for her

um .. am i the only one who doesn't know about this

you're better off not knowing 😭

it's gone viral recently

how? it's all over my feed

his temples throb with a threat of an incoming headache. he can only hope and pray that he didn’t do more harm than good… and by some miracle you don’t find out about this, at least not before he is prepared to see you mad at him again. sharply inhaling, he swipes out of the comment section and tucks his phone back into his small crossbody bag. 

“wait for me!”

he jogs to catch up to you, hurling himself to your back. you are both nearly knocked over if not for him throwing his strong arms around you. 

“you’re so hyper. are you a puppy?” you groan. “go put your helmet on.” 

“this hurts my pride. i said i’m not wearing it again!” 

he is, once again, left with no choice when you forcefully shove your only helmet over his head. 

“calm down, nothing bad will happen anyway.” 

“this feels so wrong.” he continues complaining. “everyone i know owns an extra, just so you know.” 

“well, i never planned on riding with a passenger.” you pull down the visor, sealing the deal. “hold on tight, okay?”

—

how often do you see a man on the road sitting at the back of an expensive motorbike that his cool girlfriend drives? jungkook wishes someone could take a photo and send it to him as a memento because being that man is pretty darn fun. except for the part that you’re not wearing a helmet and he’s also freaking out in the back of his mind, especially when the vehicle tilts even at the slightest. 

but yeah, fun. 

until the rain starts to come down and he ends up numb from the freezing cold. 

your driving speed decreases. you move farther into the center of the lane to avoid the slippery paint on asphalt. 

“jungkook, remove my glasses.” you instruct him urgently. 

“okay!” his arm freezes in the air. “wait, where do i put it?”

“fuck, anywhere. over my head!”

 —

owing it to your driving experience and extreme carefulness of your passenger, you park at your designated parking space safely. by the time you do so, the rain has become a downpour.

“run!” you shout as you both begin to brave it. 

for the record, jungkook tried. 

his shoe slides against the wet and slippery ground and a startled scream leaves his mouth as it all happens too fast. he lands on his butt, but loses balance again and ends up completely lying down in the middle of the parking lot. 

“jungkook!” 

alongside the fierce raindrops, your frantic footsteps bringing you to jungkook contest in creating loud splashes. you get down on your knees, forcibly shaking his frame with yet another call of his name.

“are you okay? where are you hurt?!” 

garnering no response, you resort to giving his face weak slaps. 

“stand up. this isn’t funny.” 

his ears catch you blowing out a sigh, layered underneath is the most adorable growl he has ever heard— reminds him of a tiger cub. there is the lightest trace of smile on his lips as you carry his head over to your lap with utmost gentleness. 

“jungkook!” 

you wipe his rain-soaked face with your rain-soaked hands as if it would do something. he dies of laughter inside. 

“are you being serious right now?!” 

he slowly cracks one eye open, and then the other, greeting you with the most gleeful giggle. he’s so stupidly happy it’s almost painful. chest-restricting. doesn’t help much when you hit his chest, rightfully so, and he laughs harder. 

“ugh, you’re so annoying!” 

his upper body tumbles over again to the wet ground when you return to your feet. the view from here is not that bad. he is losing half his mind from the cold and his eyes are blurry from the rain. it presents itself as the perfect opportunity to say something cheesy about going to heaven, but would an angel nudge him with their foot and say “stand up. we’re totally going to get sick now, you jerk!” before running away? 

in jungkook’s defense, he checked the weather forecast this morning. it’s painfully clear to him now that they lied. the two of you are dripping all over the floor mat in front of the building’s entrance doors. there is no other choice but to wring your clothes here to minimize the trail of mess you will leave behind when you go up to your units. 

you’re squeezing out the water from your hair. he is left with a white t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin as he does the same with his sweater.

the earthy and distinct smell of the rain clings to the air, and therefore, everything.

“jungkook,”

“yes?” he cranes his head to your direction and your eyes connect.

“don’t get sick.” 

“i won’t! i’m healthy. i only get sick once a year.” he boasts with a grin. 

given the length difference, jungkook’s method is messier than yours— he shakes the water out of his hair like a puppy. 

“okay, rude-” you chide at him, flinching away from the shower. 

“oh i’m sorry!” 

didn’t think about that, he winces. 

“aquarium after showering?”

—

“worms make me queasy.” you make a noise of disgust as you dispose of your plastic gloves. 

“but clem loves them.”

“true,” you return beside jungkook, who is watching your five beloved swimmers with pure fascination. “but not as much as coral does.” 

“sometimes i wonder if they’re getting tired of seeing our faces everyday.” 

“i hope not,” you frown.

after all, they’ve taken over a considerable chunk of your daily life for the past half year. you worried more about their meals than your own. you hated it when clementine and dahlia would get scared and hide from you at the beginning. you worked hard to gain their trust. how long will it take for them to forget you? contrary to the three-second memory span myth, you read that they can keep memories for weeks, some claim months, at least five, or even years. 

“yeah, probably not because they associate us with food.” he chuckles.

“that’s true.” 

he straightens up and drops himself on the couch. while you’re alone, you take your time to prepare your heart. 

you try your hardest to look at every little detail of each fish, anything you haven’t seen before. you always loved the way their tail and fins glide and flow as they swim, reminiscent of long hair blowing with the wind. when they play about the shipwreck, it feels you’re being healed. something broken can still be a source of joy.

“i had a wonderful time, by the way.” you turn to jungkook, making your way to where he is. “thank you for tonight.”

“me too. i was so happy.” 

he squeezes you to his side, dipping to press a kiss to your temple. you never understood people who preferred forehead kisses until you met jungkook. a kiss on the lips meant being wanted, and maybe that was everything to you.

“but i’m buying the extra helmet myself tomorrow.”

“you don’t have to do that!”

while he laughs, you force a smile. 

there’s no point. there will be no next time.

“no but thank you for everything, really… my life has been a living nightmare but- but i felt like a person again when i was with you.” 

you take a pause, willing yourself not to cry. you need to tell him everything you haven’t said so you can live with less regrets. 

“you’re such a kind person. i’m sorry that i always lashed out on you too. just because i was hurting doesn’t make it right to hurt you.” 

“why are you talking like that?” he questions you suspiciously. he masks his nervousness with a tone of humor. “it sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

because you are…

you’ve never been good at goodbyes. the original plan was to leave in the middle of the night without letting him know, leaving a note was an option. either way you know that you will hurt him, and as an admitted coward, you didn’t want to witness that.

but in the future, when you reminisce about him, you don’t want to be overcome with guilt. and when he reminisces about you, you don’t want memories of you to be tainted with bitter resentment. you hope that when either one of you sheds tears, the pain of loss eventually becomes gratitude for what you had momentarily. 

and so, you take a deep breath.

“i need to tell you something.”

he stares back into your eyes without saying anything. in the duration of that silence, jungkook is able to interpret and predict where your shared story is heading. 

“you’re leaving…”

the end.

you never considered that hearing him say it would hurt much more than telling him yourself.

“when?”

“my flight is in six hours. i’m so sorry.” 

you nearly break down into the tears, but you harshly chew on your bottom lip. you can’t cry, not in front of him. you don’t have the right.

“my parents, they finally forgave me… i can continue studying with their help. but no one wants to accept me here anymore, i tried, everywhere… so i’m going back with them to milan.”

“where they work…” he says meekly. he remembers you mentioning it in passing.

“can’t you postpone?” he tries to spark up even a smallest crumb of hope. he places his hand over yours, squeezing lightly. “even just for a day?”

you shake your head, unable to look him in the eyes, but you flip your hand over so you can hold his. and you do. tightly. and when it doesn’t feel enough, you use both hands and you clasp him in between. 

the silence in between is suffocating.

“when will you come back?”

“i don’t know.”

“i can wait-”

“no, you can’t.” you interrupt, looking at him decisively. “you shouldn’t.” 

with hardened features, he challenges your stare. you’re not scared or intimidated. he’s not angry. he’s just… 

“that’s not for you to decide.”

fighting for you.

you’d be a hypocrite if you said that you wished he wouldn’t. 

“jungkook, please, don’t.”

you throw your arms around his neck, hugging him so he won’t be able to see your face and decipher your thoughts. deep inside, with logic thrown outside the window, where all you can see and feel and touch is him, you wish that he would beg and convince you to stay. 

“you’d only waste your time doing that. you’ll meet someone else…” 

those words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. possessive, he jokingly described you once. 

“don’t say that.” he interjects. 

“you deserve to be happy, jungkook. there is so much more to life.”

“i knew- i-i had a feeling you would leave soon. i just didn’t know when.”

a tear drips from your eyelash; you hug him tighter and wipe it off on his shoulder. 

“i wish i could’ve done more.” he utters regretfully. “to help you. and comfort you. you endured everything on your own…”

“you believed me and you stayed with me. you did more than everybody else.” 

taking away the science of it, it’s common knowledge that a hug has wondrous healing effects. it’s one of those things that we naturally learn through experience, feeling. the hormone and neurotransmitter oxytocin can affect how we feel and respond to pain. studies say that it kicks in for hugs that last at least six to twenty seconds. 

“will you be okay there?” he whispers. he’s gently stroking the expanse of your back and it feels like getting tucked into bed.

by now, you’ve been hugging jungkook for over twenty seconds, and you realize that the time is irrelevant. perhaps what they are referring to are the hugs you wouldn’t mind staying in forever. 

“i’m scared,” you confess. “but i’ll be okay.”

a glimpse at the aquarium and enters a silly, gutwrenching thought. 

“you know… maybe in another life,” you peek fondly into a future that may very well never exist. “we’re old and married, and we have a big pond instead of an aquarium.”

jungkook draws back and stares you down with his tearful eyes. 

you clear your throat, face going warm with regret. “sorry-”

“you’re impossible-” he mutters before leaning in to kiss you. 

you’re frozen at first, mind going blank, until he’s kissing you deeper, gripping your waist tighter, with intense emotions you’ve never felt him express before, and you are forced to remember that this kiss is a goodbye. 

your hands around his neck fall over his shoulders, and you grant him the power to let you fall into the abyss where nothing else exists but the two of you. 

you stop worrying about the time ticking. 

you do not think about pulling away. 

he is the one who breaks the kiss and your heart is broken. 

his gaze is heaving with longing as does his aching chest. “why can’t it be in this life?”

you think this is when the gravity of the situation comes crashing down on you. jungkook is once in a lifetime. he is the person you will dedicate a memoir to when you reach the point in life where the only thing left to do is to look back. revealing the closet full of skeletons of who you were and who you will never become. he will be the subject of your what if’s, the other main character of the alternate version of your life story. the cynics will clamor, your time together was too short for it to have meant something, ignorant of the most lamentable grief— and you will envy them for it.

the corners of your mouth are lifted into a wistful smile. “fate made us meet at the wrong time, when i’m the wrong person for us.”

  —

when you arrive at your apartment, you are deprived of the privacy to break down. your brother and your family driver, mister lee, have only begun hauling your bags and boxes. you try to ignore their presence, head straight to the bathroom, but as always, your brother doesn’t allow you peace. 

“are you seriously bringing your motorbike too?”

you take a deep breath to compose yourself, but you still end up gritting your teeth. “it’s mine.”

“it’s too expensive to have it shipped-”

“shut up, you’re not the one paying for it.” 

you turn on your heel, but you become rooted into place when you hear jungkook’s name. 

“that boy you were with- jungkook, is it?”

you face with him a look of suspicion, eyebrows furrowing. “why do you care?”

he casually leans against the kitchen cabinet, hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets. “he must genuinely like you a lot to make that video. the tide has turned because of him.”

“wh-what are you saying?” you sputter. “what video?”

he narrows his eyes at you. “you don’t know what i’m talking about?”

“are you fucking with me again?” 

“yeah- okay, nevermind.” he dismisses the topic, straightening up to pick up one of the boxes that will be carried to his car. 

“moon!” you irritatedly shout his name, throwing the first thing that your hand touches. the comb hits his back before falling on the floor with a smack. “what is it?!” 

“god, ___! it’s nothing! forget about it!” he barks, going straight for the front door with two boxes stacked in his arms. “go and make sure you didn’t forget to pack anything. i don’t need you nagging me when a package gets lost on its way to milan.” 

you’re obviously having a hard time. can’t he go a little gentler on you? 

“and cover your face.”

“does it matter? i’m already leav-”

“dad asked for it— not me. just do it, ____.”

you weakly slump back against the wall. you have no fight left in you today. you’d like to commend yourself for making it this far, surviving the worst of the worst and having the courage to come out of the tunnel, but you fail to make the distinction between being strong and becoming jaded. 

“ma’am-” mister lee offers you a handkerchief. “i found it in one of the drawers. did you mean to leave it behind?” 

you shake your head, and with a cold, shaky hand, you take it from his open palm. 

once the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, there is no more stopping them. 

as a sign of respect to you, he also leaves the room. 

you choke back a sob, clutching to your chest— the handkerchief you were never sure if you were given or you stole. 

—

jungkook’s tears glimmer from the lighter’s dancing flame. after several clicks, he manages to light up the cigarette. he isn’t innocent–after all he’s already an adult—but it’s a habit he makes an effort to avoid. surely, he can give himself a pass today, though. he’s heartbroken, and he feels pathetic enough hanging out in the alleyway you frequented. 

he blankly stares at the lighter you believe you lost due to your carelessness. thinking back to your words from earlier, he’s furious at how calm you appeared. it was an easy decision— leaving him behind.

the rain has stopped, but raindrops collected by the roof still trickle to the ground and clang against metal pipes.  

with trembling lips, he exhales the smoke— a sob threatens to be ripped from his throat and he roughly covers his mouth to stop it. 

what could possibly be the lesson he’s supposed to learn from this pain? 

he didn’t know where else to go. at his apartment, he’d feel you leave. at the lobby, he’d see you leave. he’d go far, but he doesn’t want to be too far. until the very end, he is at your disposal. 

you could’ve been the one. no, he desperately wanted you to be the one. if you had stayed, he would’ve loved you as often as he breathed— but your paths intertwined only to be unraveled. 

some sadistic tool, fate is. what was the point of finding you again? 

a passerby’s fleeting shadow blocks all sources of light casted over jungkook’s secret place.

you wear your only carry-on, a duffle bag, around your body. 

you cross the street with unhurried steps. 

as you climb into your getaway car, jungkook flicks off the ash from the cigarette held between his fore and middle fingers. 

the tires roll over the wet asphalt, leaving behind a hissing echo. your brother’s car follows suit.

thirty-five, thirty-six… jungkook anxiously counts the vehicles he hears driving away.

was one of them you? 

…are you gone?

[merakiui]

texts i think the twst cast would send with the help of liquid courage. some of them don't even need liquid courage, but it is silly to imagine a drunk text from them anyway.

warning: some of these lines are excessively cheesy and also nsfw.

riddle - i want to study you like you're my notes and do you like you're my homework.

trey - are you a pastry because i'd like to fill you. ;)

cater - heeeyyy heeyyy wanna be more than /j? ;D we can be /srs instead. <3

ace - i'm in love with you.

deuce - can i take you out? on a date. not to kill you. i would never. you're really cool and i think we should go out like best buds do. you and me together. a date. for best buds. a best buds date.

leona - bed's empty. come warm it. don't make me wait.

ruggie - starving rn. lemme feast between your legs.

jack - can we be lifelong mates?

azul - you must be my glasses because i can't see clearly without you.

jade - mushrooms double in size every day. may i show you a special species that does the same whenever i look at you? :)

floyd - life's hard. essay's hard. dick's hard. :/

kalim - just so you know, i don't need to use oasis maker on you to get you soaked. :3

jamil - you'd look pretty wearing a collar with my name on it.

vil - you would look very beautiful tangled in my sheets. shall we make this opinion of mine a fact tonight?

rook - let me inside, mon amour. in more ways than one, of course. <3

epel - you're the apple of my eye... (the follow-up text: that was so corny. can we just fuck instead?)

idia - jk but not rly but jk wannawatchthisnewshowtogetherinmyroomjustthetwoofuspleasesayyes

malleus - child of man, allow me to bestow upon you a most glorious gift: my surname.

lilia - if you'll allow it, i would love nothing more than to give you a delightful green gown.

silver - would you be willing to sleep beside me tonight? i'd like to meet you in my dreams.

sebek - HUMAN. YOU ARE OKAY.......FOR A HUMAN. VERY OKAY. YES.

rollo - i yearn to kiss you and taste sweetness on your lips, and in return you can taste the sin on mine.

neige - you're really so cute!!! i wanna be more than friends. :D keep this a secret, though. don't tell (name)!

che'nya - you're purrfect in everything, but nothing is nyat bad either. lemme come over and prove it. ;3c

fellow - are you in the market for a husband? i know a great candidate. i'll introduce you free of charge! it's on me! (the follow-up when you ask if it's him: no, i'm talking about hellow fonest.)

[kanmom51]

Jikook in bed - Part 3

Are you sure?! Episodes 4 and 5

Before we get started, a little reminder of parts 1 & 2.

Let me start by saying that the occurrences in this post directly follow the whole ramen convo saga.

After speaking ramen and showering (notice how I haven't added the word "separately" there?🤣 ), and spending some time together downstairs all cozy and everything, they both decide to go to bed.

Let's talk about the pre-sleep coziness for a sec before moving on.

Watching the SNTY choreo and talking about it. JM loving the choreo.

Nothing new here folks.

We also got to learn, once again, just how 'informed' they are of each other's business. That's a nice way of saying they know shit about each other even if we don't tell us they do. Like, JM knowing that JK hasn't slept since NY, including on the flight. And if we're on the sleep talk already then funny how JK didn't know his 'husband' 'is struggling with sleeping lately.

And then, as we got to learn throughout the show, the two, once again, make a joint decision to go to bed.

Enough of that.

Let's get to the juicy part of this post, why don't we?

We start it off the two entangled.

JK has zero issue with JM's feet basically in his face.

Well, he did say JM's toes are cute, so...

Do we notice how JK goes for JM's ankle?

Now holding on to JM's foot with both hands (his mobile in his left hand).

And then letting go.

Reminded me of this moment.

And this one too.

JM going for the hug and JK pulling his hand in.

And they stay like that.

We don't know for just how long.

Discussing sleeping together.

It's not about "are you sleeping with me here?" or "where are you sleeping?"

It's "don't hit my nose today... if you do I'll hit you too..."

No questions asked.

Just facts!!!

How long were they just laying like that, calm, intertwined, BEING?

And they clearly do fall asleep together both laying over the covers.

The editors making sure to let us know that the two were sleeping on that one bed.

That angle of the lone empty third bed. Was it really necessary?

But you'll say: JK moved at some point to the third bed. Yes he did. And why? He already fell asleep on the bed with JM.

There is a purposeful omitting of JK waking up and moving to the third bed. They cameras were rolling, and they clearly could have shown us what happened. Makes you wonder why they didn't show us.

My uneducated guess would be that he moved to the bed on the floor because he was cold at night, and didn't want to wake up JM (they fell asleep over the covers and getting under the cover might have woken JM up). We do see JK covered in the morning. A guess, no more.

That was night 1 of Jeju.

Night 2 is a little different. This time they automatically split into 2 beds. Question I ask is why? Were they told to? Did they think it was better that way?

Either way, we see how JK insists on taking the bed on the floor.

And no, that flimsy excuse of preferring the less soft bed doesn't stand with me. I'm going to go with JK not wanting JM to sleep on the floor. Where Tae was supposed to be sleeping, btw. Funny how that worked out...

And yes, they didn't share a bed for the night, but JM sure couldn't go without his morning cuddles.

Understandable.

Notice how we never see JM getting up? We have zero idea just how much time they lay on JK like that cuddling him. Sob sob. I'm going to go with it not being short lived, which is why they cut the footage.

Ok, so that basically wraps up the 4 nights. 2 in CT (the actual night they spent together in bed the whole night we got zero footage of) and 2 in Jeju.

But how can I end this post without JM's wake up alarm for JK? Waking up is still about bed, right?

When I first saw this I didn't get what was going on... and why JM thought it was so funny.

Well, until I saw this.

Those two...

🤣🤣

[babystrcandy]

the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut word count: 27.7K chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3

chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue ( ← previous | next → )  

FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

OK . . .

You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.

The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.

Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . . 

But . . . 

There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to. 

It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.

So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.

It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless). 

Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him. 

That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.

So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.

“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”

Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.

Yeah . . . 

It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.

That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)

Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic. 

The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS. 

Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)

And then it would be your turn. 

Actually . . . 

You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.

“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.

Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.

Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”

You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket. 

All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.

But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .

(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)

Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.

And that was what always shocked you.

“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.

Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.

Your brows scrunched together. “What?”

But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”

Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.

“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”

“It’s chapstick.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”

Jungkook only grinned.

And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.

“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm. 

“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”

“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”

Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”

It was. It actually really was. 

“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest. 

But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”

Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”

“So I’ve impressed you?”

“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug. 

Jungkook snorted. “Well.”

Oh god. No, he didn’t.

Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”

His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought.  “Well . . . “

“Kook.”

Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.

“Really?” you deadpanned.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”

“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”

And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”

Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—

But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.

Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.

It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar. 

“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”

You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.

“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”

Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”

His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”

A beat of silence.

Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“

“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”

Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”

You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”

“That’s because I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”

Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.

And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.

(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . . 

Supposedly.)

It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face. 

“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).

“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”

His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence.

Another shrug was your only response.

Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”

Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice. 

And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.

“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.

“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.

You raised your head ever so slightly.

To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.

And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.

Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

You felt yourself grin. “Good.”

The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts. 

(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . . 

What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.

Whatever.)

And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief. 

Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.

It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.

“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.

He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”

Daisy baby. That was a new one.

Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed. 

It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again. 

It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar. 

Did you like it? 

You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.

Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.

But what exactly was this?

. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .

Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.

And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“ 

But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.

The two of you paused.

A beat of silence.

Another knock came.

Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you. 

Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)

No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.

Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.

“What—“ 

But he was already gone. 

His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—

Oh. You blinked in shock.

In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?

Huh?

Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.

Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look. 

Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)

That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.

Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“

“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”

Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”

Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”

A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “

As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”

And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be? 

With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.

You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.

If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.

If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.

“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “

You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .

Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.

Then . . . 

. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.

In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)

And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.

Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!

Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?

But . . . you were . . .

As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.

And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.

“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:

“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.

Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.

“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight. 

(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))

And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”

Lie.

He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .

But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—

. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.

Until:

“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”

Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone. 

“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.

Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him. 

He only sent you a knowing grin.

And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.

“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”

You nearly smacked a hand to your face.

“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”

And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.

Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”

“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”

Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”

“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care. 

That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.

And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then. 

It seemed he always was . . . 

That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.

But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.

It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki. 

Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care. 

It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent? 

Were you . . . happy?

And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?

In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . . 

A beat of silence. 

In it more relief. 

Beat.

Beat.

Beat . . .

But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.

You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.

And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.

Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality. 

Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him. 

Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.

That was weird.

You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?

And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.

Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.

Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.

And you were a step behind him.

“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”

But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.

You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to. 

Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.

But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.

So what? You’d find him. You had to.

Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you. 

“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.

But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.

Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.

So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!

Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.

“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words. 

Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“ 

The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat. 

And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”

A beat of silence.

You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before. 

But you really didn’t care.

Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“

But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.

Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”

“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”

Jimin blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “

“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . .  in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”

Oh . . .

Don’t say it.

Don’t say—

Don’t—

But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”

Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”

You just had to say it . . . 

“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”

With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.

But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.

“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.

Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism. 

A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”

Instantly, your heart dropped. 

He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.

You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing. 

But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.

“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”

And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other. 

To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.

It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . . 

The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”

His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?

“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “

“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.

It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.

But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”

“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”

You raised your brows. “Why not?”

“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”

And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.

“Is it?”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”

But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.

The world stopped.

A beat of silence. 

Two beats.

Another.

. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat. 

And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.

Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.” 

He loved you? He . . .

“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”

Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!

“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”

But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart? 

You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.

If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.

That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”

Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin. 

Had it reached your heart?

“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason. 

Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become. 

That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything. 

And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done. 

Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too. 

Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.

And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”

Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.

Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”

Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves. 

How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?

“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”

I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it. 

But no one was to blame.

No one.

Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.

“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”

Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you? 

And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?

“Min?” 

The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face. 

“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.

That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . . 

Wait . . . 

Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near. 

Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean? 

No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No. 

Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—

Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . . 

And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.

The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”

A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.

It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you. 

This could be it.

A new leaf.

For him.

For Jungkook.

For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”

“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”

And you nodded back with a smile.

The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.

Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would. 

Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.

Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.

You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.

Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.

How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.

But you had to try. For him . . .

And then you remembered:

Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward.

But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?

Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just— 

“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.

In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”

I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.

It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.

The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.

“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”

Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”

And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.

It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going. 

“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.

But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.

Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.

“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”

Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”

And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . . 

His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory. 

Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”

“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.

“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”

In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.

Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?

The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now. 

Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.

Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.

A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed. 

Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”

“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.

Another beat of silence.

And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.

It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard.

As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.

You supposed it would always end this way.

I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—

And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.

and the cry that always escapes, the low, humiliating premise of union—

Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . . 

But . . . 

In my mind tonight I hear the question and pursuing answer fused in one sound that mounts and mounts and then is split into the old selves, the tired antagonisms. Do you see? We were made fools of. And the scent of mock orange drifts through the window.

But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?

How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world?

That odor.

That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.

. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.

But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.

It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.

But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.

Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.

And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.

You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing. 

And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.

As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.

Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.

How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?

You were sure you never would.

And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?

Who were you without . . . badminton?

That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?

Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried. 

And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia. 

You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . . 

Those three years . . .

All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.

Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.

Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.

In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more. 

The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?

There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.

And you took it every time.

The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?

Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?

You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Anyway.

Focus on the present.

Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.

The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . . 

And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—

You checked your phone.

—an hour and a half ago.

It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)

The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too. 

But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.

Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring. 

It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.

And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.

You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .

“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.

Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.

You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.

“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.

His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.

And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh. 

“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”

With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”

You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear. 

And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?

Perhaps . . . 

It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life. 

But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.

Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."

And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help. 

Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?

God, you wished you knew the answers. 

“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.

“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”

And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.

So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.

A beat of silence followed your confession.

The world exhaled.

You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."

Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.

Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”

His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."

And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you. 

I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose. 

I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.

"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.

His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.

But you had.

Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.

Haunt me.

Haunt me.

Haunt me.

Give it to me, and breathe.

That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.

Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”

You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”

That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”

And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)

So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.

Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.

It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books? 

Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.

It was sweet. Innocent. 

It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?

And that was when you realized something . . .

“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.

How could he ever think he deserved this?

Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”

Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”

And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.

I’m a better person because of you.

How could I ever be unhappy with that?

And you knew you meant every word.

The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now. 

Not here. 

Not with him.

When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now. 

Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.

You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . . 

. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.

Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt. 

Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page. 

But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.

There’s something soft in me—

You remembered reading long ago.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.

And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.

So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.

Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now. 

Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then? 

Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway? 

. . . 

Whatever. 

It didn’t mean much, right? 

There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . . 

With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))

“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air. 

Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.

Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”

“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.

You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”

And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.

Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.

So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.

But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.

“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.

(There’s something soft in me—

But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.)

So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “

And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).

While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.

Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.

There’s something soft in me—

we killed it and it’s rotting.

It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.

Off the highway like another deer.

You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.

Off the highway like another girl.

What was . . . this?

It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.

You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—

You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.

But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.

I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.

You needed air. You needed to run.

Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.

But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.

Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”

All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).

But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”

“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?” 

You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.

But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.

So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”

That was it.

I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . . 

You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward. 

. . . And then you were gone.

Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.

And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived. 

A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.

But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.

This wasn’t a fire. Far from it. 

It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.

And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.

Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?

It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.

Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.

And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true. 

Whatever . . .  it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.

That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?

Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . . 

“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)

Still . . . 

. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.

So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge. 

Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.

(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)

His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.

Silence for only a beat more.

And then, he spoke.

“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.

And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?). 

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.

Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”

And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”

Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”

Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.

It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been. 

But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.

Fuck.

It really was that, wasn’t it?

You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it. 

But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.

So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .

Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “

Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”

“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”

A few beats of silence.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “

Oh.

Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.

But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?

“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”

Home.

He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future. 

It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.

Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.

“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”

Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.

Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)

And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”

There.

Right there.

There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.

What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?

It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought. 

And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?

“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”

A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”

Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.

You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .

Until . . . 

. . . until him.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.

Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.

“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.

“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”

Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”

Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.

He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”

You swallowed hard.

You’re the one who haunts me.

Oh . . . 

And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?

You swallowed hard once again.

“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”

“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . . 

“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles.  “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”

I want you to help me live.

It echoed in your ears.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to—

Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?

But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.

“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”

Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?

Whatever.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words. 

OK, he nodded. 

OK, he smiled. 

OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.

OK.

There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles. 

The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.

And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault. 

It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant. 

But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.

(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)

But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.

You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!

And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.

Then it would be your screams which filled the room.

Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself. 

That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash. 

. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.

With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.

Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . . 

You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.

And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.

But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams. 

You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).

Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).

Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).

“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)

“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?

God . . . what had you turned into?

“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).

Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.

“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”

Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.

Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”

You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.

But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.

Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him. 

Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”

Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”

Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . . 

But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.

And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”

“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.

Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”

Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”

He only laughed.

A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . . 

“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.

This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”

Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)

He wasn’t kidding.

But . . . 

“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”

His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”

Oh no.

No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you. 

He wanted you to like him back . . .

So then you had—oh, no!

“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”

Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Oh, shit . . . “

And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder

“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”

“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.

His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.

“Obviously.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”

In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”

“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.

Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.”

But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”

“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.

“Mmm.”

Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )

“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.

And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.

That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.

That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).

A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds. 

That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.

Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.

He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.

“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.

“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”

Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.

“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.

And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.

He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.

“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)

“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.

It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other. 

Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.

The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.

It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”

And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.

It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.

But there he was. He was always right there . . . 

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in. 

It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

And it seemed neither could he . . . 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"

You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “

His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”

How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?

And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once. 

It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features. 

(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)

Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?

Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”

And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.

Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.

Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.

“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”

And you knew that was it.

With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”

“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”

Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.

The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch. 

You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.

He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.

Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.

And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . . 

“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes. 

Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes. 

And then . . . then it hit you.

“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”

I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.

And that scared the shit out of you.

taglist:

@hrts4kook , @taehyungs-chopsticks , @loomipee , @st3ft0n3s , @callmenada , @neg-l3ct , @dawn33 , @illegurlbangtan , @jeonsdetails , @rihabaxl , @yoongipost , @jjk1iscoming , @miumiugurl , @sadgirlroo , @lucwithbangtan , @iamsisuu , @shanelleeex , @beonim , @sherlynxx , @fairy1919 , @purplewhales , @bloopkook , @ggukcanim , @bloodline1632 , @jungkooksseuphoria , @tea4sykes , @mugiwaraelly , @darkuni63 , @jalexad , @lpgirl2324 , @fairy-jaykay , @h0tvillainap0logist , @stuffy16 , @keniicastillo , @yoongukie-ff , @seesawe , @chocolatesublimesoul , @yopjm , @jeonlovescoffee , @xmirvamx , @jk-190811 , @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase , @vminkookgf , @werxyz , @tornparts , @aprilspring , @kswr1d , @jimilter , @02010802 , @sunsetnamjin​ , @lonekittycat , @moonchild1 , @hanamgi , @yoongslast , @heronstairsxd @pointofviewyugyeom

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[pajarinwrites]

LOLLAPALOOZA | Boo Seungkwan x Reader

➳ gn!reader x seungkwan

➳ wc: 2.4k

➳ TAGS: angst? no au!au?? seungkwan gets lost in berlin and reader helps him hahaha

➳ WARNINGS: sadness? unrequited attration/infatuation? german language, german people (jk love y'all), kinda insta-lovey

➳ AN: obviously i had to write something about lolla bc the boys ate that. i love them so much. this is my gift for every carat that didn't get to go (i'll probably continue this bc i did not enjoy that mildly sad ending) also it was my anniversary this week, so you get two stories within the same week (unheard of from me fr)

side note: no shade to the German people. Also, if I butchered Berlinese, please ignore it, thx. also also i don't know where the olympia stadium player entrance is and i was too lazy to look it up. different side note: if you were one of the carats that went to LOLLA in cheers outfits (you know the ones: purple, blue, orange, hats with jewels) and you happened to be stumbling across this, just know i am actually in fact in love with you and you are contractually obliged to marry me, you guys all slayed <3

masterlist

He stared down at his phone, helplessly. But the stupid thing remained stubbornly black. The sun was beating down onto his neck, bared, unlike his face that was protected by his cap, and he rubbed at it in frustration. It must have been getting close to noon, way past the time he had promised to be back. It also meant the sun was nearly above him. Without any shadow to seek refuge in, Seungkwan continued down the street. He had been avoiding getting a new phone for ages, and now it had finally caught up with him.

“Ah fuck,” he cursed under his breath, shoving the hot, useless brick back into his pocket. The pavement was flickering with heat as he looked down the street. He’d have to ask someone for help. Now, if only someone would brave the sun and temperature outside. What kind of city was this empty at noon, anyway? Granted, he wasn’t exactly in the middle of the city, but still.

He made it to the corner before finally spotting the long-awaited sign of actual life. There was a store across the street, a bright red sign reading ‘kiosk’.

He strutted in, surreptitiously wiping his hands on his shirt and trying not get too stressed out by the fact he’d have to communicate his troubles in English now.

“Hi, hello…” he started, waving softly at the clerk behind the counter. He was a middle-aged man, tan and bearded, gruff-looking, like so many of the people Seungkwan had encountered here.

“Uhm, I am… need help. I need help.” he stammered, searching the man’s face for any sort of emotion. The only reply was a grunt. He tried again, “I am… lost way. I am looking… uhm… looking for Olympia Stad—?”

The man started waving his hands in front of his face.

“Keen Englisch!”

Seungkwan tried again, just slower this time but that seemed to agitate the man even more.

“Ick sech ick kann keen Englisch. Icke versteh’ nüscht!“

He seemed angry, so Seungkwan bowed and hurried out of the store. Who knew Germans could be this scary. This also left him at square one. Or, possibly, worse. He had no idea where he had gotten turned around and there wasn’t another store in sight. With no one around the hour approaching early afternoon, he was busy trying to keep the panic at bay.

A sudden voice startled him out of his spiralling thoughts.

“Alles in Ordnung? Kann ich dir helfen?”

He spun around, and met with wide eyes, fluffy hair, and a worried expression. A person, probably about his age, was standing in front of him. Kind, was his first thought, the way you were clutching a hand-painted tote bag to your side, and looking honestly concerned for him, gave him hope.

“Ah, yes, hello!” No matter his anxiety about English, Seungkwan wasn’t going to let this golden opportunity pass.

“You speak English?”

You inclined your head, “Yeah, a little. Are you lost?”

He nodded fervently but before he could attempt to explain any further, the person in front of him suddenly slipped into Korean.

“혹시 한국인 이세요?“ Are you Korean?

“Oh!” He exclaimed surprised and so relieved that he felt close to tears.

“Yes, yes! How did you know?” He replied.

You laughed and Seungkwan, oddly, felt all his former worry drain away, “Just a lucky guess. Your style and hair, maybe.”

Seungkwan clasped his hands, starting into a relieved tirade, “Wow, I’m so glad that I happened to run into you on the street like this, you have no—“

“Uhm,” you interrupted him, raising a hand, “…slowly, please?”

Seungkwan took a few seconds to realise that his excited outburst had probably been too much, linguistically.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Just… I’m happy I met you. I need to go to the Olympia Stadium but I don’t know where it is.”

This time, your brows remained unfurrowed as you focused on Seungkwan’s speech, which he tried to keep as slow and clear as possible.

“It’s that way. Do you want to go together?”

He nodded with relief, falling into step beside you.

“Are you also on your way to the festival?” He inquired, but was met with the shake of the head.

“No, I just don’t know how to describe the way in Korean.”

Seungkwan laughed at your sheepish expression. “How do you know Korean?”

“An ex of mine was Korean.”

“Wow! You learned just for them?”

You nodded, laughing. “Yeah, I visited their family in Korea and I wanted to be able to communicate. Then I just kept studying on my own after we broke up.”

Seungkwan nodded, studying your side profile, somewhat severe, he thought.

“So how did you get lost?”

“I was taking a walk.”

“You don’t seem to have… your direction isn’t very good.”

“My sense of direction?”

“Yes!” You turned, mumbling the phrase under your breath repeatedly, and Seungkwan had trouble holding back a giggle. Apparently, that severe look disappeared entirely when you were excited about something. He giggled at your concentrated expression.

“Do you wanna write it down?”

“I’ll write it down later. So, are you going to the… concert?”

Seungkwan blinked, averting his face. He had forgotten, for a second, the fact that he was, technically speaking, world famous.

“Uhm, yeah… I’m going to the festival.” He said, hoping you would leave it at that but of course, no such luck.

“You came all the way here for Lollapalooza? Or do you live in Berlin?”

“We flew here.”

“Wow! Who do you want to see that much?”

“Sam Smith,” he said, both because he did want to see them and because it seemed like a safe lie.

“They don’t tour in Korea?”

“Uhm, we wanted to visit Europe anyway.”

“Ah! I see! Not only Berlin, then? Where else will you travel?”

If you realised his increasing discomfort, you didn’t let it show. Seungkwan didn’t enjoy lying, and the longer the conversation kept going, the surer he was that you must’ve figured something out. Or worse, recognised him right at the start.

“Are you going to the festival?” He asked in lieu of a reply. You looked taken aback for a second but seemed to shake the awkwardness off quickly.

“Nope, I’m not really a… festival person…”

“Ah…” he trailed off, unsure whether or not to pursue the subject. Eventually he settled on, “you don’t like that kind of music?”

“Pop? I don’t mind it.”

“Ah, and… K-Pop? You like it?” Seungkwan knew he should not breach the topic; he should ignore the possibility of you knowing of him. He should just pray that you would say ‘no, not really’ in reply. Technically, he was aware, that everything would be a lot easier and more genuine if you no knowledge of the genre. But he couldn’t help the small voice that was hoping for you to say you adored his music, his voice, his stage presence. He wasn’t sure why, all of a sudden, he craved it like this. Hence, his emotions remained equally confused when you replied, “I prefer older songs, from back when I first got into K-Pop. Like SHINee, 2PM, VIXX, Girl’s Generation, SES, you know? Do you like the group playing today?”

He didn’t dare look up. Your tone had been genuine. You didn’t seem to even know their name. He shrugged his shoulders in reply and tried not to let the speck of disappointment in his chest spread too far. Seungkwan didn’t even notice his lack of reply until he glanced over, seeing your wide eyes staring at him.

“Ah, err, yeah I like them,” he finally decided. Why lie about that?

“Anyone else you want to see? I guess a festival like this... I guess you want to…”

He looked over, letting you sort your thoughts patiently until you gave up with an embarrassed chuckle.

“It’s only worth it if you want to see several artists.” You finally said, switching into English. It took a few seconds for him to untangle the sentence but eventually he nodded, smiling. Unfortunately, his brain used that exact moment to blank on the rest of the people playing at Lollapalooza, and he ended up having to say, “Yeah, I really like Seventeen.”

“Seventeen, huh?” You whipped out your phone and typed away on it. He didn’t have time to worry what would happen if you started looking for photos online, before your phone started blaring Maestro.

“This is the first song on their Spotify page. Which one is your favourite?” You held out your phone as the both of you came to stop at a traffic light. He took it, gingerly, his fingertips grazing yours for a few seconds.

The first song that popped to the front of his brain was Ready to love, so he pressed play. The traffic light turned green and you took your phone back. As you listened intently, Seungkwan looked around, realising that the area started to look more familiar again. The streets also seemed less empty, which was at the same time reassuring and anxiety inducing.

He tugged at your bag to get your attention, “Do you know where the, uhm...” This was it. He should have just been honest from the beginning. There was no way he could get through the masses at the entrance unnoticed. He probably wouldn’t even make it five minutes. And there was no good lie for needing to find the back entrance. Other than…

“I’m part of the staff, so I have to get to the back entrance.”

You cocked your eyebrow before recognition crossed your face.

“Ah, you mean the player entrance? The one the… people who do sport usually use?”

“Yeah!”

You grinned in a way that he couldn’t quite read, “Sure, I’ll have to look that up, though.”

You pulled him over, away from what he had realised was a metro station or something to that effect. A steady drip of people had been exciting the station and turning towards the same direction, so Seungkwan abducted that you had very much picked up on the fact that he didn’t want to be spotted by the masses. The two of you leaned against the wall of a building opposite the street as you pulled up a browser on your phone and looked for the map of the Olympia Stadium. Seungkwan watched the people pass, a lot of them were clearly discernible as Carats, either by their outfits or accessories. He saw a few people with Cheers-inspired outfits, carat bongs, and a frankly abnormal amount of people in tiger print.

“Got it!” You announce after a second, showing the graphic to Seungkwan. “We can take the roundabout way, if you prefer. Just follow this street, then turn right, and enter through the western entrance. Should I take you?”

That was no question for Seungkwan, “Yes, please.”

To his relief, you didn’t hesitate, only nodding happily and taking off in the right direction. He fell back into step beside you, watching you from the corner of his eyes.

“I really liked that song,” you eventually stated. It took him a few seconds to realise that you were talking about his song.

“Yeah? Then you should listen to Rock with you and Hot. Maestro is the latest song, it’s also really good. Then there’s God of Music and…” he trailed off at the sight of your amused expression.

“I’ve got a lot of listening to do, it seems.”

He nodded, avoiding your gaze. Seungkwan was at a loss for words, feeling the end of your companionship draw closer with every step. As short as the time had been, he had enjoyed talking to you and hearing your laugh. Ridiculous, he thought, as he had to concede the feeling in his chest.

The two of you made it to the staff entrance, where security awaited. His hand shot out, stopping you a few metres away from them. Their eyes turned towards you, but they remained at their posts.

“Thank you so much,” Seungkwan reiterated, holding onto your arm feverishly. There was this wild thought bouncing through his head that, if he let go now, you’d vanish from his life and never return.

“It’s no problem, really. I had nowhere else to be. I’m happy I could help.”

You voice was earnest and your eyes creased at the corners with happiness. Seungkwan wanted, so badly, to ask for your contact. But there was the issue of communication, and the – much larger – problem of his fame. He had been ‘advised’ not to share any personal contact information with anyone, and he couldn’t very well give you his public Instagram. Not least because that would mean this little pocket of normality would come to an indisputable and abrupt end. You seemed to read his inner conflict on his face because your expression softened. Carefully, you extricated your arm from his grip.

“It was nice meeting you…”

“Seungkwan.”

“Seungkwan,” you repeated, and the care you took in pronouncing it, the way your lips fit themselves around the shape of his name, made his heart seize. “I’m [name]. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

You were smiling so softly, almost hopeful, and Seungkwan didn’t have the guts to say no. “That’d be nice,” he replied instead.

“In German we have this saying: you always meet twice in life.”

Seungkwan nodded, somewhere between regretful and smitten. He steeled himself for the final goodbye when you held out your phone.

“Could you write down those songs for me? The ones you said earlier?”

Lucky, he thought, heaving a relieved sigh. He wouldn’t have had the courage to reject any possible advances of yours. Although, maybe that meant you weren’t interested at all? Maybe you didn’t find him as cute, and interesting, and kind as he did you. Or maybe you were more realistic in withholding judgment of a person you had known a grand total of fifteen minutes. He took your phone, writing a small list in your notes app before locking it and handing it back to you. You took it without looking at it, your eyes never leaving his. It seemed almost like you were searching for something in them. When you finally looked away, Seungkwan had no way of knowing whether you had found it.

“Tell the artists I wish them good luck for their show,” you said. There was a glint in your eyes that told him there was more weight to your words. For a second, he was sure you knew, maybe had known all along. But in the end, there was nothing he could do but watch you walk away, waving and smiling as he made his way backstage.

[namfinessed]

Hi i wanna request no. 2 from the prompt game.

"i've wished for you, long before i ever existed, your soul belonged to mine and mine to yours." JK x Reader soulmates

The story revolved around jk finally finding his soulmate but she's married (it is a love marriage, reader and her husband married coz they thought they're one of the glitches who don't have soulmates). Make it angsty pls you can choose how they end

Thank u and i hope u write my request! Have a great day!

prompt: "i've wished for you, long before i ever existed, your soul belonged to mine and mine to yours." for jeon jungkook. (4.1k wc)

requested by anonymous (heyyy sweetie <3, thank you so much for participating, i really really appreciate it and i hope you enjoy this one! also apologies, i got a bit carried away hehe)

drabble masterlist masterlist prompt list!

-

hearts glowed when soulmates met soulmates.

literally.

when a soulmate matched with a soulmate, their hearts lit up, a signal that they've found the one, something so obvious that even the most stubborn people would have to believe.

yours glowed once, a long time ago.

but not anymore.

your toes dug into the warm sand and wriggled, letting the harsh grains massage them and your eyes were bright with hope, despite the weariness that tugged your chest.

it's been twenty years.

you would finally meet.

you tried to ignore your husband, rob, who a few feet away, was setting up a picnic for you, the one who your heart never glowed for but settled for.

you had never told him why you had insisted on coming to a beach-front resort, especially this run-down, barely functioning resort.

"all done," you felt arms wrap around you and you forced a smile on your face, "thank you baby," you kissed his bicep, but your lips wanted to wipe him off, his scent, his touch, his everything, you wanted it off you.

he smiled at you before stepping away to answer a phone call.

you were a horrible person.

no one else in this world would return to a past love in a town they swore to leave behind, especially with the husband they’ve built a life with.

you don't even know if jungkook would still come back, if he had matched with a soulmate or not, if he still remembered but here you were, shamelessly searching for him with your perfect husband right beside you.

but you couldn't forget the warmth that you felt from your heart lighting up.

the waves crashed and growled, the sun was blaring, the beach was warm and humid and your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, you could barely open your eyes and you were probably so close to finding your soulmate again.

"come here, babe!" rob called out to you, and you reluctantly walked over to him, settling yourself on the blanket and eating the fruit you had packed.

and you talked with the supposed love of your life, you talked for a long time, that was the only reason you had married someone other than jungkook, your husband was the second best option.

he was a fail-safe, a safety net you fell back on when you were young.

you were running out of time, every one of your friends had found thier match but you and your husband were the anomalies, the only ones without a particular match and you were in love, so you found yourself married in vegas weeks after meeting him.

but then, you found a photograph that changed your life.

your true soulmate smiled in the photo, a kid, next to you, also a kid, with a message calling to you and that's when you knew, you had to find jungkook before you lost your chance.

and the photo burned in your pocket as your husband poured you wine but you smiled and sipped away.

"aren't we lucky to find each other?" he asked, drunk and in love.

you nodded with a tight smile, "we really are," completely sober, heart empty and dark.

only a couple days now.

you would find your soulmate, you had to.

-

you woke up before the sun way up the next morning, getting ready as soon as you could to run out of the room before your husband could even stir in his slumber.

and you found yourself on the beach again, the sky's only light were streaks running through it and the sun was all but peeking through the clouds.

you knew this was going to be easy, finding jungkook, your actual soulmate after so many years, but you had to try, and if you didn't, well...you had a man sleeping in your bedroom already.

you also got some tools to entertain you during this quest.

a fishing rod, of all things, seemed the most logical and you took it out of its bag with pride, you had haggled for the lowest price possible for this little one.

"let's go," you sang to yourself, preparing the bait and sat on the rough sand, looking up videos on how to fish.

and paused.

fuck.

you didn't have a boat, this had to be some kind of sick joke, you stared down at the shiny rod in your hands with disdain.

but.

you were here searching for someone you met forever ago, you couldn't possibly get more ridiculous than that.

so, you threw the rod, from the shore into the shallow waters and happily hummed, ignoring how you might look to others.

-

jungkook wasn't a man to believe in miracles.

hell, he's never left anything to fate, he's always chased after it, hunted it down and this was no different.

it's been twenty years.

"what the hell?" he whispered to himself, squinting his eyes at the sea which was too far away from him, in utter disbelief of the shit he was seeing.

then, he shook his head.

if finding you meant staring at some crazy woman fishing at the shoreline at the crack of dawn, he would bear it.

but he would find you.

you would remember, right?

you wouldn't forget him, you never could, you would hold him close to his heartbeat, the way he did.

right?

jungkook turned back around to his room with a hand on his chest and a ache developing at his temple, telling his heart to wait, telling his heart it would glow again.

he misses the flicker of light blinking in his chest and so do you at the shore.

only a couple days now.

-

"so, fishing clearly went well," your husband mused at the hoard of wet covers that you took a picture of, and you pouted, "i really tried," he let out a loud laugh before leaning in to kiss your temple.

"it's okay baby, we'll rent a boat next time, then you can properly try, yeah?" though there was no glow, you still felt yourself getting warm at his words, "besides, what were you doing up so early? we could've gone together, i could've taught you," he bumped your shoulder with his but you grew rigid.

you had to tell him, right?

at some point, you had to, he deserved better than a lying and emotionally cheating wife.

and no other time seemed better than right now, when you weren't too far gone, when you could still be honest and when he could still leave you.

"babe, can you sit down for a second?"

"but breakfast time is going to be over soon," he frowned and you held back a smile, of course, while you were in the middle of a life-changing event, he was thinking about breakfast, he still was the man you loved.

"this is important," you watched the second that the thought of breakfast flew from his head, throwing everything away because you had something important to say.

he took your hand in his, and your vision grew blurry.

the words were stuck in your throat.

"is everything okay, baby?"

you couldn't say it, you couldn't bring yourself to voice it out so, you did the next best thing, you shoved the picture from your past into his hands.

and one of his hands stayed on you, the other traced the picture, you felt your stomach bottom out as his eyes reached your baby face, "this is you."

"yes, it is."

"it's that beach out there?" rob looked up at you and you nodded.

you didn't have to say anything else.

the next thing he caught was the faint light shining through your swimming suit...and the boy next to you, with the same light shining from inside his chest.

"you're not an anomaly."

you're not like me.

you swallowed, trying to keep yourself from crying, "i am not," and you watched again, as the realisation dawned on him.

you had a soulmate.

you didn't need to settle for an anomaly.

for him.

his hand on you loosened.

and you felt the world slip under your feet.

but.

his hand tightened again.

-

"how the fuck are you going to find her? you don't even know what she looks like right now," jungkook didn't answer his friend, who was sitting across from him with a scowl on his face.

jimin meant well. he knew he did.

he knew how crazy he might've seemed too, but he couldn't put sanity above his destiny, he didn't mind looking crazy if it meant finding you.

and jimin saw that, clear as day, on his friend's face, that he wasn't going to give up.

jimin sighed, "fine, i'll help," and jungkook looks up at him with widened eyes, jimin had been against this since the day jungkook told him about his adventure.

"but, only for five days, then we're out of here," jimin declared, going back to eating his breakfast and just as jungkook opened his mouth to protest, "if she really is your soulmate, you'll find her by then."

and jungkook couldn't argue, he knew there was no changing jimin's mind so, he settles to people watch.

a kid who ran around with his parents on his tail.

an old woman picking bread up from the station.

a tense couple.

he turns back to jimin, "i'm going to find her, you can leave but i'm not giving up, and that's final."

-

it was a new day, you spent all of yesterday consoling your husband and balming his emotional wounds even dragging him to breakfast before it closed so he could at least be fed and upset, but he took it better than you thought.

"what color was his hair again?" rob glanced around the beach and you snickered, "you don't have to help me, babe," and he shakes his head, "i want to help."

you pause from setting up your sand castle making tools, you didn't deserve this kindness, this grace, this person.

you were an emotional mess these days, tearing up at the drop of a hat was your new hobby but so much of your life could change and you weren't sure if that change was going to be good, you just knew that it was necessary.

"i don't deserve you," you whisper but he catches it, he leans down, taking some tools from your hands and spreading them around, "i love you, you don't have to deserve me for that, you just have to exist."

your fingers dug into the sand until the grains caused abrasions but outwardly, you smiled, kissed his cheek and whispered 'i loved you too.'

he hears the past tense, but he smiles and nods.

these glimpses of who you loved, were more stressful than finding jungkook, because what if you find jungkook and he's not just what you've made up in your head?

what if he's not the sweet boy he was?

what if he never tells you that he loves you?

what if you're giving up on a wonderful person for someone who maybe doesn't even remember you?

what if the whole soulmate system was bullshit?

but until you met jungkook, you had to give the whole situation the benefit of doubt.

"now, let's make some unbreakable sand castles!" you cheer, getting on your knees and patting the wet sand and your husband shakes his head, "this is all you, b- y/n, i'm going to go over there and read my book, you have fun," he ruffles your hair before leaving to relax on a lounge chair.

him holding back on calling you baby, stung you, even if it shouldn't.

you would probably never hear him call you baby again, you would probably never wake up next to him again, you would never know which book he's reading, which food he's eating, who he loves, who he doesn't, nothing, you would know nothing.

you took quick glances at your husband and the beach from time to time, while you tried to make a sand castle, he became a stranger to you the more you kept looking at him and every other man on the beach looked like jungkook.

you did that until the sky turned dark, your skin grew wrinkly and your husband finished his book, and he had to gently lift your defeated body from the sand and take you away.

you wept and apologized the entire night into his shoulder, for not finding jungkook, for being so cruel to your husband, for being so selfish and him being him, he consoled you and hugged you to sleep.

he whispered some reassurance when your tired eyes gave up on crying.

"you're not an anomaly, if you have a soulmate, you should find him and until you do, i'll be there and if you don't..i'll still be there."

-

surfing was next on your list, and just like everything else, you weren't too good at it, and after several trials (and drownings), you sat at the shore with the board at your feet.

"don't beat yourself up, the waves are harsh these days," you heard someone say and when you looked up, your heart beat so fast that maybe, just maybe, the universe somehow guided jungkook right to you.

you took your time to look at their face, their entire face was engulfed by the sunlight so, you put your hand above your head and squinted.

it was a cute guy but he wasn't jungkook.

he didn't have sparkly eyes, he had very beautiful eyes but not the eyes of your soulmate.

damn it.

"thank you," you gave him a small smile, disappointment filling your chest and he nodded, "my name's jimin, i could teach you the basics if you'd like."

then, his phone rang, he politely excused himself to take the call and you heard bits and pieces.

"did you find anything? nothing?...here at the beach...no, no one here...i doubt the resort's bingo game will be the place...well, you go."

and you considered his offer for a moment as he approached you again, you smiled at him before saying, "thank you for the offer jimin, my name's y/n, but i think i'll head back to my husband now."

"no worries, have a good day!" he smiled back and walked away, and you were left by yourself, sopping wet and upset, once again.

you clutch your hand to your heart, it was no longer patient, it was tired, exhausted and in so much pain from being so cold for so long.

you go back to rob that night, he holds you like he always does, he loves you like he always does and you slowly accept that his love was the rest of your life, he was the rest of your life.

and maybe, not today or tomorrow, but maybe someday, you will grow to love him again and forget all about the kid your heart glowed for.

-

"i swear i thought it was her but then she said husband so, guess not," jimin ranted his ear off next to jungkook, who looked through the resort's records with an intensity that made his eyes burn.

jungkook could care less about his friend right now.

he had just lied his head off to get access to the registry of people who checked in and he searched fervently for your name.

maria.

steve.

lacey.

wooshik.

carrie.

rob.

yeri.

but your name wasn't there.

he sighed, closing the book and squinting his eyes shut.

it's been days.

he wants to find you, hug you, light up your heart but every day, jungkook feels himself getting further away from that possibility.

"hey man, it's okay, we'll find her," jimin squeezed his shoulder and jungkook gave him a half-smile, "how can anything be okay right now?"

and jimin puts his hand down, feeling the weight of jungkook's words.

if jungkook didn't find you, he might never have a soulmate, he might never get the chance to love you, cherish you, hold you and he would spend his entire life alone.

jimin gently guided jungkook to the closest restaurant, urging him to feed himself and he stuffs his face, letting himself feel whole somehow.

it's only when jimin drags his plate away that jungkook breaks down in his chair, his hair hovering over his eyes, his tears flooding his cheeks and his loud sobs make jimin go over to his side and hug him.

he felt ridiculous, crying with crab sauce all over his chin but he couldn't stop, he couldn't stop pitying himself for the long and lonely road he might have ahead.

that night, just as they start drifting off to sleep, jungkook makes a decision.

"let's go back tomorrow."

jimin doesn't know what to say, "are you...sure? you're so close."

"i might be close or the furthest away i've ever been."

then, jimin nods, "whatever you want, dude. i'm here."

and when jimin's snores invade the sound around him, jungkook sinks into himself, accepting his solitary lifestyle, accepting that his heart will never glow again.

he dreams of you.

in flickers, like flashes of light, in happiness and pain, an unknown face is all over his dreams but he knows it's you.

-

rob stood a couple feet away, watching you balance yourself on the surf board, by balancing, laying flat on your stomach and floating.

he still felt the need to supervise.

"careful!" he yelled after you as you somehow managed to be unsteady even on your stomach and you wave him off.

he knew how tough the last couple of days were for you, you cried yourself to sleep every day and he knew that he could've been not-so-okay with his situation, but rob also knew that he could never stand in the way of you finding your heart.

it took him time but he knew he had to reunite you with your soulmate and move on with his life, find someone else to love and let you be a pretty memory in his mind.

so, he watched the beach closely for any young man with black hair which, as it turns out...were a lot of men.

then, he heard your scream and his head snapped back to you, flopping your hands as your head went underwater.

it didn't take rob a second to run to you, his heart pounding with every step of his that dug into the sand.

"y/n! y/n!" he yelled, his stomach tightening with enough pressure to snap, and when he finally sees and grabs your hand, he feels himself calm down and when you hang onto him as he pulls you out of the water, he wonder how he'll ever let you go.

he bent down in front of you, "are you okay?" he brushed some drenched hair pieces out of your face and you nodded meekly, rubbing your cheeks, "thank you," you whisper and he sits on his feets, watching you process the situation.

"you saved me," you whisper again, voice breaking and rob doesn't know what to say, he can't tell you he loves you anymore and that it's his duty, he doesn't want that burden on you, "i always will." is what he settles for instead.

you look broken, the days finally showed on your face and he feels your pain for you.

"wait," your eyes fly open, checking your pockets franctically and he bends forward, "what are we looking for?"

"the photograph!" you screech, getting up and running towards the shore, he runs behind you, holding you as you search and when he sees it, stuck to the sand, he simply turns your body towards it and you fall on your knees next to it.

you clutch it to your heart and rob feels the sting of his lightless heart again.

if only he was the one who could glow for you.

but then, you get up, "we should go," and he nods, grabbing the room keys, you shake your head, "we should leave."

he stops in his tracks.

he could have you again.

he could forget this whole thing, live his life with you and not alone, he never felt like an anomaly when he had you.

"are you sure? you're so close." he says, as a courtesy, more than anything.

"or so far, maybe he never came and i'm the stupid one, either way, i want to go," you hand over the photograph to him and though you say it with so much conviction, he sees your hesitance.

"i'm sorry," and he knows what you're sorry for.

if he left now, he would always have only half your heart and half your soul.

"don't be, i told you ill be here," he kissed your cheek.

he would be okay with it.

he wordlessly starts walking away, knowing you were walking with him and tries to reason to himself that this was for the best and he knows you're doing the same.

you were right behind him but you felt like you were on another planet, holding him through some stars that would die soon.

he swallowed the feeling.

then, your foot mangled with your other foot, sending you down to the ground again and before rob turns and lifts you up, another man is bent next to you, helping you to your feet.

he almost rushes over to you but then, the light from your chest starts building, so faintly that he wouldn't have noticed unless he squinted and he looks at the man, his chest was flickering too.

and he stays frozen in time as he watches you two not even notice it, both of you with your minds and eyes far away from each other.

he hears your thank you to the man without meeting his eyes, he sees you look at him and not your soulmate, he can probably get away with it.

but he would only have half of you, you would only be half of you.

so, he walks to over to the both of you, places the photograph in your hands, presses a kiss to your temple and walks away.

maybe he was always meant to only have half of you, he would come to terms with it and until then, he would miss you but for now, he will let you go.

-

your mouth drops open at the photograph and your eyes franctically look at the man beside you, who looks back at you with the round sparkly eyes that you fell in love with.

your soulmate.

your light.

your fate.

"jungkook," you breathed out, and the light from your heart falls on his face, getting brighter by the second and his light falls on you, but you didn't squint, you didn't look away.

he turns the photograph, his childish handwriting stared back at him, his favorite quote from his favorite movie, that he dedicated to you when you were just kids.

"i've wished for you, long before i ever existed, your soul belonged to mine and mine to yours."

you had told him he was dramatic then, but you smiled and blushed at it, you told him to come back to you 20 years later, right here, right where you found each other. it was a joke then but when he became an adult, he knew he was going to make it his reality.

and you were right under his nose, all this time.

he cups your cheek and you melt into his hand, "gotchu," he whispers, laughing soundlessly, blissfully and you're laughing with him, eyes teary and chin shaking.

your hearts burned brighter than the sun.

"i was right!" jimin cheered from somewhere, dropping his and jungkook's bags into the wet sand.

-

the next day, you were back on the beach, rob had left the night before with a proper goodbye and lots of tears. you sat down and told jungkook everything, letting him know he could leave if he felt uncomfortable with someone else loving you while he was gone.

the choice was all up to him.

the sun came strong on your eyes and face and you covered your face, squinting and jungkook lifted an umbrella to shield you from the harsh light as you got back to learning how to fish.

"i love you," he chimes from beside you after you pull out a few plastic bags and you hide your face away from him, "i will love you too." and he nods happily, "can't wait," and you laugh out loud.

he finally pieced together that you were the crazy woman he had been seeing everywhere and nowhere.

and he couldn't call it anything else but a miracle, a destiny, a fate, his soulmate right around him and now, with him.

he stayed glued to your side, when you left the resort, when you got back to your town, when you cooked, when you cleaned, when you cried, when you laughed, your soulmate stayed right beside you, heart gleaming and full.

and your heart stayed alight, a weight of the light fulfilling every wish you asked from the universe.

hearts glowed when soulmates met soulmates.

and you had finally found yours.

-

[lovely-peace]

Burning moon 1.

Summary: The reader is devastated at Remus nothing saying answer and thinks of it like an rejection. To overcome this they try to forget their love for him but is failing miserably. But Remus doesn't react to their coldness like they expected...

Warnings: self hatred, unrequited love?, angst, Sirius( jk I love him), over thinking, bad communication

~If you see this and haven't read Part 1 I advise you to read it before reading this so you understand what is happening. This part is simply a sequel to part 1 and isn't bound to the song like the first part

masterlist part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

I was glad the year was almost over after... I confessed. I could go on with my life and go out of his way. Lily was trying to make me go out with the others, but I had plenty of reasons I could tell her why I couldn't go.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah Lily, my stomach hurts pretty bad and I don't think I should go. "

Of course after one week of excuses she would grew suspicioun, but the year was over.

I could go home. I would have some time alone.

It was like I had some luck in my misery.

I really tried to ignore my feelings. I really did, but it was like a really persistent bug that wouldn't fly away. Whenever I heard Remus' name my heart would beat faster. My cheeks went red, and my thoughts circled around him constantly.

It was disgusting. I was disgusting.

I didn't look at him. I didn't sit next to him at lunch like I always did. I didn't acknowledge his existence.

And still. He was still everywhere I went.

At the last day of school we were going to the train station like always. Of course with Remus. Their whole friend group said bye to each other including myself and Remus. It was awkward, really.

I had always hugged everybody and cried when I had to say goodbye.

Not this year.

The most I could do was to say goodbye to everyone.

"Is our little princess not sad she has to leave us behind, this year??" Sirius said with a grin, but he had this look in his face I couldn't read.

"What can I say? You are pretty annoying Sirius and I have to return to my kingdom!" I joked and tried to smile and laugh.

It was the fakest laugh I ever heard.

"Don't forget to write! It always gets so boring without you." Alice said. She was a really good friend and even tho she wasn't good friends with the marauders, she still came to them from time to time.

"Of course Alice! I can't ever forget to write you." I exclaimed and smiled at her. The train was about to start. I always sit with Lily and Mary in one cabin so we always said goodbye to each other before the train started.

Then Remus looked at me. His eyes seemed to bore through my soul and I felt like he saw everything that was going on inside of me.

And I hated him for that.

I hated his pretty eyes and how they made me flush. I hated that I couldn't think straight in his presence after everything I did to overcome him.

I hated that he still had control over me.

"I hope you have a great Sommer. Don't overwork yourself, alright? You can always write me too, if you want to talk." he said. He smiled at me and seemed so sincere.

And I just said :" Yeah, bye." and got on board of the train.

I know that was unfair. He was so nice to me and I just ignored his presence. I didn't even look him in the eyes when I said that.

But I was hurt. No scratch that.

But I was angry. Angry at him that he pretended everything was normal. But more importantly I was angry at myself. At my weakness for him. At my constant thoughts about him. At my love for him.

Lily and Mary followed me after they said goodbye themselves. I sat down inside of an empty Cain and waited for them.

I felt tears in my eyes. It was burning. But I swallowed them before the others came in. I just looked out of the windows while they put down their things.

There was a tense silence.

Mary broke the silence first.

"What was that?" she said.

I didn't look away from the window. I just replied :"What was what?". Even though I knew what she was talking about.

"Come on you know. That between you and Remus!"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Now Lily stepped in. "We are not dumb, Y/n. We know you are ignoring him. And that out on the train station? That was just cold." she said.

I remained quiet.

"Look whatever you are mad at, talk to Remus about it! He is really worried about you." Mary exclaimed.

They didn't know. Anger boiled up inside of me. It seemed like they made Remus the victim of this situation. They didn't know. They knew nothing about my pain in the last months.

The months I hoped he would answer me. The months I hoped for his love.

I wanted to Scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell them. NOW.

I smiled at them instead.

"It is really nothing. I just didn't want to miss the train."

Lily raised her eyebrow. " Yeah sure."

The tense silence was back and filled the room.

This time Lily broke it.

"Why... Why aren't you talking to us? Are you mad at us too?"

That caught me off guard. Was I mad at them? I realized that I was. Yeah, I was furious, because they didn't know anything. That they didn't look for me when we were at hogsmead. And I know that's stupid, life doesn't revolve around me, but we were friends.

Friends cared and looked after each other.

Like Remus did,because I am his friend nothing more.

The tears came back and I began to tremble. What was wrong with me?

" What is wrong? You know you can tell us." Mary said and her kind and gentle voice brought me back to reality.

She was right. I could tell them.

But should I?

They were also friends with Remus. I know we were good friends, but in the end they maybe would tell him why I was ignoring him. And I didn't want him to know.

I felt ashamed of myself. Of my weakness.

But in this brief moment I didn't listen to my thoughts. I just said :"I am angry at you, because you didn't look after me. In hogsmead."

When i saw Lily's wide eyes I immediately regretted what I said. I didn't want to guilt trip them. I was stupid, stupid, stup-

"I'm sorry."

What?

"Remus told us you weren't feeling well and that you went to the toilet. He told us he will stay behind and look after you."

Stop talking about him! Stop saying nice stuff about him!

"I didn't know you were having a tough time... But I should have at least asked after you. I'm deeply sorry." Lily said.

In this moment I couldn't stop the tears. I cried like someone died. And maybe someone did. I didn't even recognize myself.

They stopped asking questions about remus. I wasn't in the right state to tell them, but I would tell them eventually.

When the train arrived, I took my things and ran off the train. I could not see him again today. Not after this conversation. I ran away into the holidays. Away from my problems just somewhere else.

And the sun didn't see the burning look in the moons eyes as he saw his sun ran away.

Taglist:

@juleshadalittlelamb @fluffybunnyu

[peachjagiya]

hi peach...

i don't know if you've heard about the scandals with deepfake porn in sk, which is really just a tip of the iceberg of many things. the state of things are horrible for women. the male population are pretty much horrible, and i know that is a generalizing statement but the statistics agree. womens position in korean society is seriously not good. and i don't want to make this about myself. but i don't know how i can continue to support bts. yes, on one hand, there is nothing that shows that these men are like that, and most things show that they are good people. and i would never even think these things about them if it werent for the things i have read. but they are also very protected, and are meant to be portrayed in positive light. i just mean, even though i feel that i can trust them, i also can't? but i don't want to judge them for things they haven't done. i don't know why i am sending this to you, i know you probably don't have the answers. but i like reading your blog and i am especially invested in tk even though i like all of bangtan. i know that we know very little. it just scares me. i know that i have to accept that we can not know for sure, but how do i continue to support them then? but my life would feel so empty without them, i don't think i could stop supporting them either because my heart does not believe these things about them. i just don't know how to justify it to myself when i read about these women suffering, i want to help and support them and if supporting male idols isn't then... i don't know. i know i probably shouldn't invest so much in these artists that i don't know, but i can't help it... if something ever came out about them, i don't think i could take it.. what are your thoughts on this, and maybe your followers too? thank you

<3

I am so sorry this has affected you this way. I think your concerns are valid - ultimately we shouldn't be placing any person we don't personally know on a pedestal, man nor woman.

The first thing my wife said to me when I said I was getting Tae tattooed on my arm was "What if he turns out to be a bad person?" and I did have a think about it. Like all I actually know him is what I value in him. That stuff isn't for nothing. I think it's very human to gravitate towards traits in people that feel familiar, help you feel seen, make you feel good, give you that dopamine. But you do need to consider there's always a possibility.

(In the end I decided to go ahead with tattoo anyway. It's not photorealistic, it's a photoshoot that represents something I've been into a lot longer than BTS, etc)

The advice I have is make their humanity your baseline. My baby army observation is that we're not very good at treating these guys like humans even when they haven't done anything wrong. We expect perfection, we expect they share their whole brain with us, we expect a lot from them that is highly unreasonable to expect.

Accepting they're human as a baseline means you're less surprised when they behave like humans who make mistakes, who are flawed and imperfect, who probably have darkness in them like everyone does. And if they should have committed a crime you find abhorrent, you're not losing the idol love of your life.. you're cutting loose a human.

Of course this is easier said than done. I fully admit BTS, especially TKK, are a huge source of dopamine for my depressed ass. If I had to cut them off for any reason, it would suck! I would be so sad. That feeling is ok too.

Think about JK R0wling. Nearly every single queer I know personally was once a Harry Potter OBSESSIVE. I know about eight lesbians with a Deathly Hallows tattoo. And she has let our community down. She has gone all in on a hate campaign against us to the point where I have gently held my gender questioning child, with a non-binary mama, by the shoulders in a shop and explained softly that I would never be buying him Harry Potter pyjamas he wanted because "the person who created this is an open and active bully." And do you know what? It's fine. My son is fine. I am fine.

If I said to the much younger Peach who idolised her that one day the sight of her would make us feel sick, much younger Peach would have been devastated and disbelieving. But you know what? It has been remarkably easy to get over it. My life is actually missing nothing as a result of getting rid of a deeply abhorrent author who was once my world.

All eight lesbians have got or are in the process of getting them covered or removed. And they're fine too.

So that's what if they HAD done something.

But the thing to remember... is that they haven't. And it's still ok to enjoy them right now! This Yoongi situation probably hasn't helped because I think I'm feeling overanxious about stuff like this too. You can only act on facts though. Half the criticism they receive online is just people making stuff up.

The Nth room stuff was wrapped up in 2020. They weren't on lists then. The new Telegram stuff is an ongoing investigation. They have not been arrested. This doesn't mean there's no way BTS have ever been involved. It just means based on the facts, we have nothing untoward to go on.

If "protected" is an indicator of maybe there's shady dealings going on, then every film, every piece of music, every TV show, every book has a connection to shady stuff. Art exists to get us through hard times, not to make things worse. That's why it sucks so much when artists DO let us down. Because they take away a piece of something we need to be happy. Music, art, film, literature.

You can't live like that, anon. You're doing the right thing by educating yourself, by believing victims, by being appalled by this. I know many people who simply don't become so affected by this stuff that they even think about it beyond the article they read and a few more who would laugh it off. You are on the right side of history. Think what your care means to people who've been abused. In a world where people do not listen to women, you're saying you hear them and you see them. That does actually mean something.

But please protect your spirit - you need to be able to sing, and look at pictures and watch films. You're not doing the wrong thing to still enjoy things right now when the world is in the dumpster. There's nothing to suggest BTS have been involved... so stick with facts.

Anxiety is ruling our collective mind at the moment, I think, and though she's helpful in small doses, Anxiety is a bitch in big doses. Letting Joy take control is not naivete. It's strength.

I don't know who you are but I am sending you so much love, anon.

💜

[aajjks]

finally finished my hw for the weekend!! yaaayyy!! 🥳

DHP!JK

these past months flew by.

just a few months ago you were at the hospital with jungkook by your side when the doctor broke the unexpected news to you. now, you’re expecting that un-expectancy in may. who would’ve that you would be reshaping your lost relationship with your sister? who would’ve thought you would be getting married? who would’ve thought you’d be a mother? it’s all so unexpected, but in a good way. each day leaves you feeling more thankful because you couldn’t have done any of this without your number one supporter, your soon-to-be husband, and lover jeon jungkook.

“Hm, yn how was your day with your sister? Tell me everything!” he says with a big smile on his face. he places the glass of water on the coffee table and sits close to you. as you’re running your mouth, jungkook looks at you with the most loving eye whilst caressing your big, round belly. you go on and on about your niece minji and share some sister tea about mi-cha’s deadbeat baby daddy.

you take jungkook’s hand in yours and look him in the eye before telling him the last thing you and mi-cha talked about. “so…” you take a deep breath. “my mom has stage 3 lung cancer. mi-cha said she’s been dealing with it for years, even before i left. i cried..a lot. it just kills me knowing she didn’t tell me all these years” and maybe, just maybe, you should see her again?

•••

“YOU FUCKER!!!” sarang’s home is in ruins, especially the room where her child would have accompanied. god must really hate her, because why are you so lucky? when she received the text from mi-cha confirming your pregnancy, her mind spiraled. she remembers jungkook’s hint at your fruitful bearing back at alina and eunwoo’s wedding, but just like hers had perished, she expected yours to perish as well. who would have thought you’d be filled with 7 months of love and a diamond ring to cement that.

why in the fuck are you so fucking lucky? why is it always you? you. you. you. you.

should she blame the affair with ian? is that why she has yet to walk down the aisle with her beloved? should she blame her beloved for being so blind? or should she blame the deity itself? sarang takes a look in the mirror and turns to the side—her stomach is flat. its been flat and empty for months.

that should be her carrying his baby, not you.

that should be her with that engagement ring, not you.

that’s her baby, not yours.

everything you have, everything you are is her. you took her baby, robbed her womb; first her man and now her baby too? sarang grabs her phone and rereads mi-cha’s text: baby boy. jeon junseo. he’ll be due in may. i gave you what you wanted now do as you promised.

never mind the rest of the text, sarang begins to hatch an idea so cruel that even she’s disgusted at the thought, but that’s what happens when you take something that wasn’t yours. she has to get it back.

~🫧

Today is the greatest day of his life.

and even though the last week was really hard on the both of you emotionally because you’ve been so sad about your mother’s condition and it was hard for him to comfort you, you’ve finally come around and he wants you to hang out with your family spend some time with your sister and your mother..

But today is the day he finally gets to marry you.

He’s shaking from happiness, he’s so happy that his heart will burst at any second. You make him so happy.

Jungkook is already at the alter, standing, tapping his feet, looking around, desperately looking to get a glimpse of you as his bride

Last night, he could barely get enough sleep. He just cannot believe that his eight year long dream is about to come true in a few minutes.

“Relax, kookie. She’s not gonna run away I promise.” Eunwoo teases, standing beside his best friend who is too obsessed with you to wait any longer

It’s so sweet to witness both of yours love story and you have him wrapped around your finger and he’s never seen somebody be in love with someone this much like he’s with you.

This venue of your wedding, it’s beyond unrealistically beautiful

And it represents the both of you well. Yours and his favourite colors blended so equally well.

And it looks like a fairytale, the chandeliers dangling, and the flowers everywhere, the carpets, the tables and the seats, everything is so beautiful.

“OH MY GOSH WHEN IS THE WEDDING GOING TO START?” Jungkook loudly exclaims, and his friends by his side laugh out loud. He’s so impatient when it comes to you. It’s actually funny and a little embarrassing, but he’s not really embarrassed.

He’s in love. Can you blame him?

“Oh my goodness you obsessed bastard wait.” Mingyu rolls his eyes, Jaehyun and yugyeom are too immersed in laughing.

“I can’t believe you’re going to get married. Oh my God we lost another one.” Chan, his other friend fake cries.

Jungkook laughs at his remark, but his smile quickly fades as he sees Ian and crystal walk in, along with his father, seeing ahyeon in her pretty flower girl dress makes him happy.

Jungkook clenches his jaw. Seeing Ian makes his blood boil, but he will let it go today.

As long as his mother doesn’t enter the venue behind them.

“Where are you yn!!!” He mutters under his breath. The guests are starting to come and he’s only waiting for you.

He’s waited for this moment for so long.

[rosslync]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔 / / ross & troye

WHO: Ross & Troye ( @troyesvn )

WHEN: June 25th, 2024

WHERE: London, UK

PLOT: Ross joins Troye on stage.

TW: nothing.......... hehe jk its us! smut! <3

"Everybody wants you, baby, you should insure that waist, with the highest policy you can get. Bet nobody wants you bad as I do, baby let me plead my case."

Ross: Being reunited was maybe one of the best feelings Ross had felt in a long while. Truthfully, all his memories with Troye were slowly becoming his favourite ones, things he’d usually regard as the best things not even being comparable; not when he had him there. Their time back together had mostly been spent the better way they knew how; newly formed marks against both their skin being the evidence of that, and the taste of Troye seemed to linger against his tongue for longer than it used to, not that he would ever complain for that. Now; their performance day had arrived. There was something so special for Ross in being able to share the stage with his boyfriend, especially during a Pride event; being able to be there with Troye, the very person that encouraged him to feel prideful meant so much. Ross had never doubted his feelings, or his pride for a second; from the second he realised his feelings for Troye to now. There had never been any doubt in his security in it. He made sure to make that abundantly clear during his time on stage - a relatively heartfelt, yet flustered speech to the crowds of thousands who would stand there and listen. All about how in love he was, how happy he was to have their love; and how he could never be ashamed of it, all his feelings laid bare for those that would listen; as well as the rendition of something he had written for Troye in their time apart. He was smitten, that much was clear, and no matter how many times he watched Troye perform; he’d never get bored of it. But here he’d found himself, waiting at the side of stage knowing his boyfriend was about to bring him out; somewhat a homage to their first meeting, only this time they could fully enjoy it; no anxieties or overthinking.

Troye: Ross’s performance brought a lot of emotion — the surprise of his song, one he had yet to share with the world, performed freely in front of the crowd with Troye as the muse had him near tears, and then, of course, there were the songs that followed… the songs that made him want to intertwine himself in Ross, to feel his body all over his own. When it came to his own setlist, he was looking forward to what he’d make his closing song just for tonight. He couldn’t imagine carrying on a performance once it wrapped, knowing he would struggle to keep his focus on anything but Ross. He knew it the moment he turned, seeing Ross on the side of the stage, motioning for him to come out and take a seat on the empty chair behind him. Troye started the song as he made himself comfortable, slowly approaching him, standing in front of his boyfriend before he placed his foot on his leg and pulled him in to his body. He performed One of Your Girls as he normally did on tour, Ross taking the spot of his dancer, except for now, it felt all the more intimate. He tangled his fingers into blonde locks and tugged, well aware of just what reaction it would pull from his lover. The lyrics passed his lips without missing a beat, guiding Ross’s head closer to his crotch than he may have if it were anyone else in his shoes. He smirked, one only Ross could see as he turned from the crowd. He wasn't even on him yet, and he could feel a heat in his cheeks, letting it pass as he tightened his grip on the microphone and lowered his hips.

Ross: He had watched this dance a thousand times over, not just from his time joining Troye on tour; but from his time scrolling aimlessly online, fixating on every movement the dancer portrayed against his boyfriend. This felt far more right to him, he knew it was simply a special thing for Pride - but he was so glad to have the opportunity to do it, he felt as though he could become quite comfortable in the seat for the rest of the shows, if he could. Ross had thought the thoughts running through his mind a million times - how good Troye was at what he did; how even here, with him, he played the role so well. Not that it required much acting, in this instance. For a moment, he thought about how much he could get away with here; what exactly he could do to Troye to work him up, throw him off… But he wasn’t that mean. Besides, he was enjoying playing his own role now too - his hands moving to slide up against his boyfriend’s thigh; all the way to his ass - a hard slap being pressed against it. A movement he had seen the dancer do before, and despite not knowing any of the choreography; he’d pick up the initiation from his boyfriend - only hoping it felt better coming from him. His hand slipped away once he felt Troye lower his body, not feeling much a need to hold back his emotions anymore; the grin on his face so wide as he kept his eyes on his boyfriend lowering down towards him. His hand moved to slide up against the corset Troye wore, resting his palm against the side of his waistline as he looked up at him with the widest of eyes; almost daring him for his next step.

Troye: This time was definitely contrasting from the way the music video shoot played out, how Troye asked for every bit of his approval, worrying that he took it a step too far. This time, it was worry free as he pressed his body up against Ross’s own, and there was something about being watched by the crowd as he touched him that sent a familiar shiver down his spine, amplified by a thousand as he rested on his lap. By now in the choreography he’d be on the ground, overpowered by his dancer, but here he took the lead, as if he was playing off the memory of how they first became familiar with one another. He held the microphone to his side as he brought his lips to Ross’s ear, his free hand traveling up his chest as he spoke only for him to hear. “Bet you’d like to fuck me right now,” he whispered, pulling away to capture the look in his eyes, pulling the strap of his corset over his shoulder with a bat of his eyelashes and a sway of his hips. His words taken in by no one other than Ross until he continued to sing, breaking his spoken desires as he ran through the second verse.

Ross: He was sure everyone in the audience must have been able to see the way Ross enamoured Troye. His eyes practically saucers as he looked into the others blue ones, his chest freezing his breaths momentarily as he felt his boyfriend speak against his ear. He was so in love, partly for this reason - the way they matched each others energies, seeing who could take the other further or who could surprise the other the most. Ross’s fingertips trailed up Troye’s arm, intwining with the strap of the corset as he played with it delicately; a certain look in his eye to convey a very clear message for what Troye could expect once they got off that stage. Letting go, he leant back into the chair, but only to slide his shirt off his chest – figuring if he were making a special appearance on stage, it’s what he should do. Besides, he knew Troye would like it, and he couldn’t take anything too far; not wanting to throw him off his singing. But still, his hand slid up the bodice of the corset, up his chest and sliding to the nape of his neck - pulling him closer, slowly, so not to throw him off. His smirk evident, and his thumb stroking against his boyfriend’s skin.

Troye: Troye watched Ross as he leaned back, lifting his shirt over his head, bringing an immediate smirk to Troye’s lips as he let his eyes roam over his body, this time obvious, not trying to hide his lingering gaze as he sang. Before, even when the cameras weren’t rolling, Troye would stare, quick to turn away if Ross even did as much as glance back in the vicinity of his direction. He felt free now, able to let his hand run over his boyfriend’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm without fear he was pushing his limits. There were none, other than the fact they were on stage, and Troye had to keep that thought in mind as he moved his hips against him, grinding down on his lap before he lifted himself off of him, leaving him with nothing as he finished off the song with the closing choreography, performing the routine in front of Ross’s widened eyes.

Ross: Ross shifted in the seat a little, having to remind himself of where they were - think of pure thoughts to not leave himself in an embarrassing predicament. He felt relatively proud of both of them, for being able to keep things calm, professional; leaving some things up to the fans imagination. But still, the lights from the stage were so hot, and so was he, Ross had to allow a moment to collect himself; still, his eyes never leaving Troye’s. He wished he could do it every night, almost, for a second wondering if this could just become his life now - follow Troye around and be his personal chair every evening. The song ended all too soon, and Ross, somewhat entranced, had to remind himself to stand up and move. He gazed the stage to find his boyfriend, walking over to him and placing his hands on his hips - thumb toying with the material of the corset; as he listened to the crowd cheering just in front of them. Inching his lips forward, he grinned as he spoke into Troye’s ear, the grip on his hips tightening. “Thought you were into kissing boys on stage?”

Troye: Troye wondered for a moment that when he turned around, if Ross would still be sitting there watching his next move, off to the side of the stage, or elsewhere. He felt his hands on his hips before he could register much else, the roar of the crowd muffled in comparison to the thoughts running in his mind, the desires, how much he wanted him as his grip grew firmer and it was his turn to whisper in his ear. Instead of returning his words by speaking, he turned his head slightly to capture his lips, kissing him, taking it upon himself to push it a notch higher than his usual. His lips lingered from his mouth, across his jawline and down his neck, his fingertips stroking down the bare skin of his back before he suddenly pulled away. He looked at him, his eyes showing more to be desired before turning his back to him, making that his exit as he strutted off the stage and left Ross to follow.

Ross: It would be impossible to remove the smile from Ross’s face, footsteps trailing in Troye’s direction almost immediately - the sound of the crowd was muffled now, irrelevant, as he fought against the the urges that plagued his mind. He could taste Troye on his tongue - he could feel the way his eyes told him everything; having watched every movement for every second of their performance together. After following him backstage, he chased after him a little - hands on his boyfriend’s hips as they strolled towards the green room. “You,” he begun, momentarily removing his hand to open the door in front of them. Pushing Troye inside, and almost immediately closing it behind him, he used the grip he had against his hips to pin him against the door, the smirk on his face evident. “Are so,” He continued, fiddling with the button on Troye’s trousers - finally sliding them down his thighs. “Fucking,” And now it was his boxers turn, Ross’s fist moving to slide up his boyfriend’s thigh, kneeling onto the ground in front of him; completely at his mercy - he didn’t have to finish the sentence. Instead he just chuckled, his tongue pressing against his boyfriend’s cock - an act he had become much more confident in performing recently.

Troye: Troye’s smirk was plastered on his face, permanent as he felt Ross’s hands back on his hips, meeting up with him with a clear motive. He listened as he spoke, slowly, accentuating his words with every movement as he pushed him into the room and against the door, the same smirk mirrored on Ross’s face. He hardly had time to say anything before Ross was on his knees, pulling his clothing down his legs. He parted his lips to speak, but could only whimper as Ross’s tongue came in contact with his already hardened cock. He brushed his fingers through blonde hair, pushing it away from framing his face as he looked down at him. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the sight, of Ross settled between his legs… of Ross hovering over him, or of Ross laying beneath him. It all still felt like a dream, whichever way he had him, one he never wanted to wake up from as he tilted his head back against the door, a soft laugh escaping him at the realization of just how far they made it from the stage. “So, what?” Troye finally urged, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

Ross: Ross was thankful his shirt was long forgotten on stage, his body feeling hotter as his hand slid to wrap his fist around Troye’s length - spitting a slick of his saliva down onto it. He whined as he felt the fist run through his locks, a feeling he had only felt moments prior; but this time in a position he was much happier to be in with it. Ross looked up at him, the corset still against his frame - the shoulder strap slightly hanging off, but everything else set so perfectly against him: Troye truly was the perfect human being to him, Ross felt so enamoured by him. Eyes locked against his smirk as he wrapped his mouth around Troye’s length - his mouth working up and down his length in an attempt to pleasure him. He wouldn’t move his eyesight, not even when he would push himself further - taking Troye in further, letting him hit the back of his throat in a way he had only recently been able to get used to. Slowly, he pulled away, whining as he widened his eyes, pressing kisses against Troye’s shaft in place of his tongue. “Mmh..” He pondered, his fingertips sliding down to palm against his balls, blinking up a few times at his boyfriend, “So… Everything.” He spoke, spare hand sliding up the corset that rested against Troye’s stomach - palm over the breast cup. “Everything.”

Troye: Troye couldn’t bother lifting a finger, he always wanted to be touching him, in one way or another — from his hands tangled up in his hair, to the softest brush of skin against his arm, and every in between. It was no surprise they found themselves here, with the backstage area still busy with crew and performers alike, and the thought of having his cock down Ross’s throat as people walked the opposite side of the closed door had him pushing his hips forward, deeper. He watched him, met his gaze, and allowed his own to travel towards Ross’s hand, how he wrapped it around him, his mouth working everything in reach. “God, fuck, you’re getting so good at that,” he sighed, his own fingertips loosening the grip on his hair to travel down his jawline. The noises from Ross’s lips made his cock twitch, knowing he was the only one who could pull them out of him, a soft whine of his own echoing once Ross’s lips were no longer all over him. His heart pounded beneath his clothed chest, the material of the corset blocking Ross’s hand from fully enveloping him once more. He liked the sound of everything, given that was exactly what Ross was to him. He brought his hand over Ross’s, smiling as he lifted it to intertwine their fingers together. “I love you,” Troye said, soft, maybe a bit too soft for the moment they found themselves in… but it wouldn’t stop him from feeling it as he gave his hand a small tug to get him back on his feet.

Ross: The praise immediately went to Ross’s own cock, feeling the material of his jeans suddenly grow tighter as he kept his eyes on his boyfriend. There was something about it being him, and being his that made all of this so much better for Ross - knowing that after the crowd had seen that performance; some of them would be imagining the two of them in this scenario. He knew it would be a success, but the other thing he knew was how much it would turn him on; despite everything the two of them had done together, knowing every inch of Troye’s body and how to work it - something about the two of them in that scenario did something to him. Maybe it was the recollection of everything that had started their journey, or maybe it was the way he could feel Troye’s heat over him as his hips swayed down - regardless, there was a reason Ross couldn’t wait until they had got back. Needing him now, urgently, as if it were the last thing he’d do. “I love you,” he repeated, taking Troye’s initiative to stand back up - ignoring the tent that had grown in his pants to cup his boyfriends jaw, a small whine leaving his lips as he kissed him. “Wanna make you feel so good…” He mumbled against his lips, his breath a little shaky, “Do whatever you want me to. Anything.”

Troye: Troye still felt that same flutter in his stomach each time Ross declared it. This time was no different as he repeated his words, bringing his lips to his own as he murmured his desires against them. He could have stayed here for hours, if time allowed it, having Ross keep his word and send him deep into a state of oblivion. He let go of his hand to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue rolling over Ross’s in an effort to taste both him and himself. “Anything?” He asked once he pulled away, his breathing heavier, “Fuck me right here.” Troye’s words were soft, his eyes blinking up at Ross in a manner far too innocent as he batted his lashes. He pressed closer to him, so his cock was flush against his thigh, a hushed whimper at the sudden friction, “You already see what you do to me, everyone did… now let them hear it.”

Ross: Ross took the initiative, spinning Troye around to face the door - pinning his almost bare body to it. “You are such a slut.” He spoke, bringing his lips to his boyfriends neck - just as he had done on stage, only this time he’d give himself the permission to lightly suck on the area, surely enough to leave a mark. He was almost taken back to the moments following their filming together; where he has snuck off to the toilets to jack off because his cock was beyond a state he could just ignore, so mesmerised by Troye and everything about him. “Gonna make you cum, and then when we get back to the hotel room tonight - i’ll make you cum again. He mumbled against the skin on his neck finally getting back down onto his knees; a place he couldn’t find himself to complain about going to often. “Make you wanna bring me out for your next show, too. Show you how I’ll make it worth it…” He hummed, raising his hand to slap a firm spank against his boyfriends ass - smirking up at Troye as he trailed his hand up to rest against the waist of the corset.

Troye: Troye placed his hands on the door, smirking again as he was turned from Ross, “For you,” he clarified, humming in satisfaction as he felt his boyfriend’s lips against his neck, sucking a mark sure to be seen the next show if he weren’t planning to cover it. Now, he had nothing to hide — completely lacking shame; instead wanting to display it fully. To have him like this was beautiful in comparison to the last time he’d performed the song with him, a sexual tension between them neither of them acted upon. He listened to his promises and pressed his lips together, keeping himself from interrupting. “You wanna come out again-“ he started to speak, his words cut off by the moan that was torn from his throat as Ross’s palm met his ass. He arched his back almost instantaneously, pushing closer as if silently begging for more as Ross’s hand traveled to his hips. “Show me now,” Troye asked, still facing away from him as he rested his cheek against the door, knowing the position he found himself in only made the chance of someone hearing him all the more greater.

Ross: He was sure he would go to the ends of the earth for him, do anything he’d ask - hence how he had found himself on his knees, ready to make him feel the best he possibly could. Slowly, he inched himself forward, his hand finding Troye’s wrist to direct his hand to his hair - finding himself craving the touch. It was something Ross would remember from the performance, something Troye would do to him knowing the way it would turn him on; make him always want more. “Stay,” he spoke demandingly, knowing his boyfriend would follow his orders, and not wanting to waste time find comfort on their green room sofa. He made his way to their suitcase, bringing out the lube they had packed together earlier: thinking of the silent giggles that had escaped them as they did, realising they wouldn’t be able to hold themselves back after being on stage together. Ross hurried back, the bottle in his hand as he finally pulled his own trousers down, his boxers following with them. “I want everyone to hear.” He spoke, in reference to Troye’s position at the door, his lips finding their way to his neck again. “Want everyone to know, just like after the Met.” He mumbled against his skin, pumping some of the liquid against his fingers - finally running them over his hole.

Troye: Troye allowed Ross to move him by his wrist, position his hand in his hair just as he wanted it, earning a tug from Troye as he fought the urge to push his head forward. Once Ross told him to stay, he didn’t move a muscle, the hand previously entangled in Ross’s hair rested aimlessly at his side as the other held the doorknob, as if it were an effort of stopping anyone from entering. He could hear distant conversations beyond the door, muffled laughter of those walking by, and he knew there was no way he could keep himself quiet enough to not be caught. As Ross came back to him, ridding the rest of his clothing, Troye once again parted his lips to speak but any effort to think a coherent thought was lost on him with Ross’s mouth back against his neck as he teased his hole with his fingers, coating him without penetrating. Even so, it was enough to have Troye gasp at the feeling, craving his touch so badly he was convinced anything would get him off tonight. “We’re gonna get kicked out,” Troye said in a giggle, but backed up against Ross’s hand as he spoke, showing no desire to stop. “But I know you’re hard, felt it, bet you were before I even got on your lap…”

Ross: Ross listened to Troye’s words, smiling silently to himself, knowing the risk of them being kicked out was of no concern to Troye. Definitely not. Not from the same boy who had taken his entire length in his mouth inside an elevator with no warning, or sucked on his thumb in the Met Gala bathrooms, before they had even slept together. He knew Troye. He knew how far he could take this. So, with that knowledge, he pressed a small amount of pressure against his fingers; not quite allowing himself to enter him yet, wanting to head the prettiest whines that would escape him. Kissing further up his neck, his lips landed to his ears - his fingers starting to move in small circles against the rim, his body pressed firmly against his boyfriends back; his spare hand moved to rehook the strap on Troye’s corset back over his shoulder. “You just have to look at me and I’ll get hard.” He mumbled, the hand that had rested on the strap trailing up to this throat - delicately wrapping around it. “But you know what you’re doing, every single time, you like working me up.”

Troye: Ross positioned Troye so he could hardly budge, locked between the door and his boyfriend’s body — not like he could complain. Especially not when all he could do was whine, knowing Ross knew well enough the circling of his fingers would drive him crazy, wanting more. His brain felt a little fuzzy already, still on the high of bringing Ross out on stage, but he couldn’t be bothered by what they might be missing after his set when Ross had him like this. His lips curved into a smile as Ross’s hand eventually found its way to his throat, wrapping around it, his fingers against where his lips once were. “Please,” Troye began to beg, the empty feeling proving to be too much as he tried to buck back down into Ross’s hand but was pressed too close to him for it to be effective, other than showing just how desperate he was. “And you like working me up, too,” Troye bit back, “So, we’re even. Now you can just fuck me.”

Ross: “Shh…” He hummed, his fingertips that surrounded Troye’s throat tightening a little, an action he knew wouldn’t be any assistance in making Troye be quiet. Especially because at the same time, he’d finally allow his fingers to enter him. It wasn’t as though Troye was unprepared, having had seen each other for the first time in weeks only making their desires stronger; Ross wasn’t as afraid of hurting him as he had been the nights prior. So, he’d use two fingers, lightly rocking them in and out - the angle in which they were stood helping him to find the spot he knew would drive Troye crazy. He knew his body now, inside and out - and knew everything he had to do to make him feel his best. “You were thinking about this on stage, weren’t you?” Ross questioned, his lips moving to his boyfriend’s shoulder to lightly kiss his skin; tongue pressed flat against it. “Thought about how I’d take you to this room, leave no time before fucking you.”

Troye: The pressure around his throat had him distracted for a moment before he was met with his fingers, leaving Troye moaning out despite the efforts to keep him quiet. It was only the first stroke of his fingers and he was whimpering, tilting his head back as Ross gave him just what he needed. His words went to his cock, now fully hard, causing it to twitch just before Troye brought his hand down between himself and the door and gave it a squeeze. “Fuck, yes,” Troye admitted, the mixture of his lips against his shoulder, his fingers inside of him, and a hand around his neck making Troye’s breathing heavier. He bit down on his lower lip as hard as he could as Ross’s digits worked inside of him, attentive to what made Troye’s eyes roll back. “You… fuck, shouldn’t… not there,” Troye knew he wouldn’t be able to stay silent, not with Ross knowing what may as well melted Troye in his hands. “Ross,” he moaned his name, as if it were a warning that he wouldn’t be able to hold anything back if he kept focus there.

Ross: Hearing his words, Ross tightened the grip against his throat - holding him in place by his neck. He made no effort to stop his movements, “I shouldn’t? Tell me you want me to stop, then.” He spoke, firmly, knowing that it’s the last thing his boyfriend would want to do– his fingers curving up to brush against the spot he knew would give the answer he was hoping to hear. Hearing Troye in this state was always so satisfying for him, he was sure there was nothing better than hearing him whine - so desperate for everyone touch that Ross could offer him. It was why he would always prioritise him, always prioritise making him feel good; because hearing it always set a physical reaction for him. He felt himself harden from the sounds, pressing a little closer to his boyfriend to rest his length against his skin - not changing the angle his fingers would hit him.

Troye: Troye couldn’t tell him to stop, and Ross knew that — instead, he moaned, taking his fingers inside of him with his noises only growing louder as they curved up in motion. He took it all in as Ross opened him up, pressing his own length against him, leaving Troye craving every inch. “Please, need you,” Troye encouraged, resting one hand against the door as he brought up the other to hold onto Ross’s arm, holding his grip against him in place. He allowed his touch to linger back over his own body, the material of the corset beneath his fingers. “Do you want it off?” He asked, his voice a little soft as he tried to speak through his breathing, tried to distract himself from the feeling that radiated through his body, warmth rushing his veins as Ross showed no desire to stop.

Ross: Ross stood there for a moment, stroking his fingers against the skin on Troye’s neck - his other hand pulling away, leaving Troye empty for a moment - the hand that was just against his neck now on his hip. He leant over, picking up the bottle of lube he had carelessly discarded, a sharp breath inhaling through him as he felt the cool liquid coat his cock – the first time he had touched it that evening. “No,” he answered, stroking his hand up and down his length to coat the lube over it. “Keep it on, please?” he spoke with a small groan, the grip against his hip tightening as he aligned himself with his boyfriend - not quite pressing in yet. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful.”

Troye: The loss of Ross’s fingers made Troye whine, but it was worth it in the anticipation of what was to come, the sound of Ross’s cock slick with lube music to his ears as he stood patiently before him. He smiled as Ross answered him, the plead in his voice making Troye’s face soften as he straightened the fabric out on his body, dropping his hands to spread his cheeks apart to help guide his boyfriend. “Mmm,” he practically purred as he felt the head of Ross’s cock against him, “You can’t even see my face, babe,” Troye teased, bending forward to show off the detailing of the corset from behind. “You don’t have to be soft with me right now, Ross.”

Ross: Ross followed every one of Troye’s movements - from the way his hands moved to the bottom of the corset, to the way they moved to spread himself open. It only made him realise more just how much he meant his words; of course not only being associated to his lust, but still, his behaviour in scenarios like this contributed to his statement. “Don’t need to,” he responded, his grip against his hip hard enough to bruise - as he finally pressed forward, a short gasp leaving him as he felt the warmth that surrounded him from Troye. After a short pause, an attempt to collect his own breath - he’d start to thrust his hips, holding Troye up to the best of his ability. “You - mmh -“ he begun, his voice low as he attempted to keep it in for the sake of the people outside, “Always feel so good, take me so well.”

Troye: Troye couldn’t focus on much other than the grip Ross had on him as he pushed himself forward. He exhaled as he took him in, Ross not waiting much longer to move his hips, causing Troye little time to adjust, his moans already spilling from his throat. He knew they could have easily made it over to the couch, but from the way Ross held onto his hips, Troye knew he didn’t want him budging as he settled his hands on the door. “Fuck, give it to me,” Troye begged, the outside noises overtaken by Ross breathing in his ear, the sound of his skin against his own. It was clear how much the prospect of getting heard began to have an effect on Troye, backing up on his cock before Ross could even sink every inch in him. "Harder."

Ross: Ross would obey anything that Troye wanted - one of his hands trailing back up the corset, before resting against his throat; just as it had before. He figured this was what Troye wanted; and so he let himself become looser - allowing his own breaths and moans to become louder, audible for anyone walking outside. “So fucking greedy,” he commented, tightening his grip around Troye’s neck as he begun to rock his hips rougher, harder. The door lightly tapped from the way Ross’s movements would move Troye against it, his fingers digging in slightly to where he had left his marks against his lovers neck; feeling as though he’d like the sensation of the pain from it. He wouldn’t last long, not with Troye speaking to him the way he was, especially not in that corset; one he surely, surely wanted to ruin by the end of the night.

Troye: Ross’s noises always turned Troye on, and as he slowly seemed to care less and less about the passerbys, Troye felt even more in bliss. “Yes, yes,” was all he could call out, stifled as Ross wrapped his hand back around his throat. Troye tried to meet his thrusts, arching his back before leaning forward against the door, every movement of Ross’s hips causing Troye to moan louder, the attention brought to them as Troye gripped the doorknob causing it to rattle. The harder he went, the rougher he was on his body, and Troye wanted no mercy as he tilted his head back, his eyes rolling with the motion. He couldn’t have cared about getting kicked out now, not when he felt like this. Ross was right — he was greedy, and completely shameless about it as he moaned his name, leaving no secret as to who was behind the door. “You feel so good, always, I…” the words came out a little strained, but he managed, “everyone should know how good you fuck me.”

Ross: It was warm in the room, Ross already felt hot from being on stage; or at least he’d pretend that was the reason he’d take his shirt off on regular occasions. He felt Troye’s head fall back, only exposing more of his neck for his hands to wrap around - his grip tightening enough to make it so Troye would be unable to speak. As much as he enjoyed hearing the things he’d want to say, hearing him strain was almost better; his pants leaving his lips louder than they had previously, and his hips moving even quicker. The door wouldn’t just rattle now, it was lightly banging; there was no doubt the people outside wouldn’t know what was happening in there; if anyone was even there now. Ross couldn’t focus on any outside sounds, being so focussed on the sound of Troye’s gasps through his tightened neck, and the sounds of his cock slick from the movement. “Everyone should know how good you are to fuck.” He hummed, through escaped breaths. “But only mine to fuck, always.”

Troye: Troye’s body was pressed flush against Ross, his back against his chest as he held his head back, encouraging his boyfriend to do as he pleased. He couldn’t string words together with the tightened grip, but could still cry out, his noises broken but certainly not mute as Ross quickened his pace, knowingly aiming his thrusts to hit Troye’s prostate. In a moment like this, he was thankful Ross was stronger than he was, managing to hold him up more than his own body would allow as he balanced himself against the door but felt his legs growing weaker. With Ross’s lips so close to his ear, he heard every pant as they grew heavier, a smile — even with Ross’s hand around his throat — spreading across his face as he echoed his words with Troye being his.

Ross: His hair slick against his forehead, the hand that rested against his hip inched around - wrapping his fingers around Troye’s length. He stroked upwards, skin touching the material of the corset with every flick of his wrist, the idea of messying it after everything that had happened on stage pure motivation to him. His teeth grazed lightly against his earlobe, hand sliding from Troye’s throat to rest in his hair, tugging his head back to stay backwards against his chest. Despite the enjoyment of the position they were in, Ross still wanted to see his face as he cums; forever being one of his favourite sights.

Troye: Troye knew once Ross’s hand was wrapped around him, he wouldn’t last much longer, and nothing but the sound of his moans could warn him. He couldn’t find any words to speak, his eyes rolling back as Ross pulled his hair and had every say in the direction he wanted him. Through half-lidded eyes, he turned his head to get a better look at him, mouth agape with no words spilling from his lips. Anyone in the surrounding area was bound to hear the moan that left him as he came, and he was too far gone to realize just how loud he may have become — and, perhaps more importantly, too far gone to care. His legs felt like they were going to give out beneath him as he released over Ross’s fist, his breathing erratic as his orgasm hit him full force.

Ross: Whenever he witnessed Troye cum, his eyes would be locked on him until the second it was over; the sight captivating him every single time. He loved feeling Troye spill over his fist, loved watching the ways his lips would part and his eyes would roll back - he loved him, so much. Once he was sure Troye was finished, he moved is hands to Troye’s hips; making no effort to clean his hand in the process. He had become so used to finishing inside of him, wanting too - Troye always knew the ways to make him feel euphoric as he came, but now, he’d try not to think of it; a fantasy in his mind he wished to play with instead. After pulling out, he turned Troye around, manhandling him slightly but still keeping him pressed up against the door. “Want you to help me,” he hummed, taking Troye’s wrist and placing his hand over his cock — letting out a breath of relief at the feeling of Troye’s hands pressed against his length. “You know where I want to finish,” he spoke, stepping forward a little, pressing his lips to his boyfriends, finally.

Troye: Troye always felt like his orgasms were all the more powerful with Ross, guiding him through it, an attempt to catch his breath as he steadied himself on his feet. He whimpered as Ross left him, as he always did at the loss of feeling full, not yet fully in the moment as Ross took the lead to turn him around, his back now against the door. He blinked at him a few times, a fluttering of his lashes as Ross asked for his assistance, wrapping his smaller hand around his cock and pumping. He caught his moans with a kiss, his hand working quicker as it deepened. “Do I?” Troye questioned with a smirk against his lips, hoping he had the right idea from the way Ross’s eyes had roamed his corset top, how he asked him to keep it on as he had his way with him. He pulled away from the kiss to look at him, one hand on him as his other lifted the strap that had slipped from his shoulder, hoping he alluded to the right idea.

Ross: His eyes locked onto Troye’s own, his mouth slightly agape as his whines left them. Troye was hot all the time to him, no matter what he was doing, what he was wearing; or what he wasn’t wearing… But there was something special about the corset, something special about any expression of femininity; like Ross could get the best of both from him. His hand trailed from Troye’s hip, grazing over to the front of the corset, tracing lines over some small marks of Troyes own cum from his own orgasm; Ross’s hand still sticky with the rest of the residue. “Fuck, yes,” he confirmed, thumb stroking over the material as his eyes darted to watch the way his boyfriend’s hand looked wrapped around his length. “Such a good boy, the best girl, whatever…” He hummed, inhaling a sharp breath, hips buckling into his fist “Everything I’ll ever need.”

Troye: Troye knew he had the right idea as soon as Ross’s hand grazed over the fabric, stroking over where Troye had spilled onto himself, and he couldn’t help but smile as he spoke his way through it. He moved closer to him, as close as he could get to place his lips to his ear, whispering — perhaps the quietest he had been this whole time. “Let go for me, then,” he said in his hushed tone, his thumb swiping over the head of his cock as he tightened his grip, mimicking how he would with his muscles if he were still inside him, all in time with Ross bucking his hips. “Please, baby? If I’ve been a good boy..”

Ross: It was a welcomed difference to how they had been prior - Ross wouldn’t notice the sounds coming from outside the door anymore, focus entirely on Troye and his soft tone of voice. It sent chills over his body, suddenly feeling vulnerable, like literal putty in his boyfriend’s hands as he spoke to him. It would never have taken much, short whines leaving him as he felt the bottom of his abdomen become warm, his whines turning into moans as he finally came - watching the contrast of the whiteness of his seed against the black of the corset fabric. Ross tilted his face, catching Troye’s lips in a kiss; smiling softly against them as he moved his hands to wrap around his shoulders gently. “I love you,” he hummed against his lips, pulling away ever so slightly; “but I have no idea how we leave this room. I think we live here now.”

Troye: Troye's full attention was on Ross through his orgasm, stroking him through it, never once lessening the pace or loosening the grip of his hand until he was sure he had came down. As he caught his breath, his lips were on Troye’s, and Troye couldn’t help but smile back at just how soft Ross was after the whole ordeal, this time his hands at his shoulders rather than around his neck. “I love you,” he answered back, before Ross could say anything else, but his next comment had Troye giggling as he looked down at his top. “I mean, with a change of clothes, for starters…” Troye pondered as he swiped some of the cum off with his fingers, toying with the idea of bringing it up to his lips to taste his boyfriend on his tongue. He ran his free hand through Ross’s hair, trying to make it look more tame as he brought the digits of his other hand to his mouth.

Ross: Watching the way Troye placed his fingers in his mouth was almost enough to drive his blood south again - watching the way his tongue lapsed over his digits; the soft feeling of his hands in his hair. A little unable to resist himself, Ross leant forward, pressing a few more kisses against his boyfriend’s lips; smiling as he hummed against them. “I packed stuff,” he mumbled, his hand trailing down from Troye’s shoulder, resting at his ass as he offered it a small squeeze. “I thought…” He begun, moving his lips to Troye’s neck, kissing over a mark he left the night prior; his tongue rested flat against the reddish flesh. “We could enjoy the rest of the festival…” His thumb stroked over where he had just squeezed, as he pulled away, tilting his head to the side. “Close your eyes, once you’ve put this on?” Ross finished, a playful smirk on his gaze as he looked his boyfriend up and down - stepping away and throwing him a shirt, notably, one that belonged to Ross. But no trousers, yet.

Troye: Once Troye was satisfied with licking his fingers clean, his lips were back on Ross’s, like they couldn’t bother to be the slightest bit apart. Troye hummed in response, biting at the inside of his cheek as Ross rested his hands on his ass. As if he had to worry about making any noise now. He tilted his head on instinct, exposing his neck to Ross’s waiting mouth, a soft sound escaping past his lips as he watched his body language as he pulled away. His eyes followed his smirk, and how he looked him up and down. Catching his shirt in his hands, he set it down momentarily to slide the corset off his slim figure — with ease now, given how many costume changes he had grown accustomed to, so it wasn’t long until he lifted his arms and slipped Ross’s clothing over his body to take place. He looked at him once more, trying to study what was on his mind, a smile on his face as he laughed whilst closing his eyes. “Are you going to surprise me with some pants?” Troye asked, wondering what in the world would come next.

Ross: Ross watched as Troye slowly peeled the fabric from his body, showing himself bare for the first time that evening. The sight burned into Ross’s memory, surely something he’d return to think of throughout the rest of the evening. He always adored how his shirts enveloped Troye, oversized and unmistakably borrowed, a message to tell people that Troye had a boyfriend; it made him feel smug, as though he could brag to everyone who would pass Troye. Humming softly, Ross turned to rummage through the suitcase, clearly seeking something specific. When he finally found what he was looking for, he pulled it out with a wide grin, chuckling as he approached Troye again. “Not pants, yet,” he teased, eyes locked onto the large material that draped over his boyfriend’s frame - licking his mouth with his tongue slightly. “I meant it earlier, when I said I wanted to make you cum when we get back tonight too.” He begun, pressing a gentle kiss to Troye’s cheek - humming a little. “So… I thought I’d bring something. To make it easier when we’re back.” He spoke quietly, not wanting anyone to hear - his head tilted to the side. “You trust me? Close your eyes. Turn around.” He knew the answer, and that Troye would do anything he’d ask - regardless.

Troye: Troye’s arms settled by his sides as soon as he pulled the shirt over his head, immediately feeling cozier with the fabric that smelled like Ross settled over his skin. He took a liking to borrowing Ross’s clothing, so having a shirt of his rather than his own was really just a welcomed surprise. He could hear Ross looking for something else as he kept his eyes closed, a soft smile rested on his lips. Once he heard his laugh come closer to him, he raised his eyebrows in anticipation, his smile fading into a smirk when he came up and kissed his cheek, as if solidifying his promise for what was to come later. “I trust you, and my eyes have been closed,” Troye noted as he turned, a small giggle of his own as he faced the opposite direction.

Ross: It was hard for Ross to not lather Troye in kisses - kiss every inch of his skin, tell him to keep his eyes closed as he’d douse him in them. Especially as he looked at his smile, or the way he could still be so expressive with his eyes shut; he was so deeply in love. A smile on his own face that Troye couldn’t see, Ross immediately dropped down to his knees, lifting up his shirt that rested over Troye’s frame to position himself underneath it. He moved one hand up, gripping onto Troye’s asscheek, moving his face ever so slightly closer to kiss the other one delicately. “You know how much I love you?” He questioned, in such a loving way it was almost unbelievable where he sat - using his hand to slightly spread Troye open. “I love you, so much.” He hummed, running his thumb over his hole - pressing another kiss to his cheek. Hesitantly, he moved back a little - picking the lube off of the floor to pump it over the object that laid in his hand - sure that Troye would be able to hear. “You wanna go watch the other performers?” He asked, wondering if Troye would engage with the conversation at all.

Troye: Troye could feel Ross approach him, closer, but still had no idea as to just what he was closing his eyes for. He stayed still as Ross lifted up his shirt — or, Ross’s shirt, — his hands back over him. For a brief moment, he wondered if tonight’s promise would happen now, especially when he felt his thumb over his sensitive hole, earning a gasp from Troye as Ross’s lips settled against his other cheek. His words mixed with his delicate touch had Troye nearly melting for him, a satisfied smile on his lips, pushing his ass out as soon as he heard the pop of the lid. He, himself, was quiet up until then, and he almost felt like laughing at Ross trying to keep up casual conversation as he was so close to the most intimate parts of him. “I love you, more,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he answered, following up with a nod. “Mmm…” was all he managed to utter after that, leaving Ross to take it however he pleased.

Ross: Delicately, Ross slid his hand up under the shirt, to rest against the side of Troye’s waist. He enjoyed getting Troye like this: to a place where he would find himself unable to respond fully, working him up just enough to make him try to form sentences. He loved the way Troye loved this, and he loved the way Troye would adapt to anything he’d ask; letting Ross touch him in any way he pleased. As much as Ross prioritised his boyfriend’s pleasure; maybe the reasoning behind it was from enjoying how much he loved to see Troye feel pleasure too. “That a yes? You wanna go back out after this?” He teased, his hand sliding back to his boyfriend’s cheek - squeezing hard whilst he’d pull it to the side - spreading him open. “Say it.” With that, he’d finally pump the cool liquid over Troye’s hole, using his thumb to massage it in lightly - it not being his intent to turn him on again, as much as he could feel his own blood pool south momentarily.

Troye: It was difficult to form any thought with Ross behind him, squeezing, spreading him apart. Troye felt like he could only hum in response, but eventually tried to speak, a small “yes” leaving his lips as it was echoed by a soft whimper at the feeling of Ross’s thumb against him. “Ross,” he warned, his name somehow the easiest to utter, spilling passed his parted lips. “We can go back, come on,” Troye fought to reply, above all else, looking to make Ross proud as he did just as he was told. He knew if they were to go back out there, something about him would look different — whether it was how flushed his face still was, or how marked up his neck had became since the door fell shut behind them. “You wanna show me off?”

Ross: Ross honestly wouldn’t have complained about not going back out there, forgetting all the promises he had made to friends to catch their sets; his entire focus on Troye. He contemplated it for a while, keeping the dressing room hostage and causing an array of issues for the organisers - maybe if he weren’t so nice it would have been something he’d seriously consider. The temptation of Troye all too much, something very difficult to resist. “I think we already showed each other off.” He hummed, finally, bringing the plug up - trailing it in circles over Troye’s hole. “But I always wanna show you off,” He continued, his voice a little hoarse; entire focus laid on the toy as he waited for noises of approval from his boyfriend. “The prettiest person in the world.”

Troye: Troye smirked to himself at Ross’s comment, a blush reaching his cheeks just as the pink tint to his skin began to fade with time. When he felt the toy against his hole, he sighed, now knowing what Ross had planned. He thought about being among the crowd, Ross’s arms around him with everyone unbeknownst to what was underneath his clothes, keeping the sensation of being full. “Please,” Troye begged for it, for Ross to stop the circling and give him just what he needed. He knew they wouldn’t make it the whole festival, even if they made their best attempt, their focus too wrapped up in each other to give it their full attention. “Keep me open so I’m yours to fuck.”

Ross: Ross ran his spare hand up any inch of skin it would reach - from Troye’s thighs to his ass, circling round to his hip and along his waistline. Every inch. He was sure he couldn’t get enough of it, seemingly finding it hard to go even more than a few minutes in Troye’s presence without having a hand on him. He wanted to be touching him all the time; not even just sexually. “You’re already mine to fuck.” Ross hummed, lightly applying pressure against the toy - watching the base of it slowly become surrounded by Troye. “Only mine to fuck.” He hummed, before pulling it out a little; only to push it back in again. This time, he’d allow it fully in - somewhat of him envious of the object, as he found himself fighting against the growing urge to take him then and there, again.

Troye: Troye melted into Ross’s touch. He always did, Ross having a way with his hands, hands that knew a way around Troye’s body — keeping him satisfied, keeping him safe. He whimpered as he felt Ross push the toy in, then out, then back in again and finally allowing it to settle fully inside of him. It was incomparable to Ross’s length, but something that would keep him full, a constant reminder with every movement of how rough Ross had already fucked him and what he still had in store. “All yours,” Troye echoed, reaching behind himself to spread his cheeks apart, giving Ross a full view of how well he could take it. “Still look pretty?” He asked, extending his hand out only to slap it back against his skin in a spank, turning around with a innocent grin painted on his face.

Ross: There on his knees, in front of his boyfriend - watching as Troye presented himself to him; he was sure there was no place better for him. Eyes not knowing if they should be locked on the way his hole had taken the toy so sweetly, or the way his face searched for approval. His question was answered in the way he heard the slap, a small whine leaving him as he stood back up - fingertips cupping the bottom of Troye’s chin. “The prettiest.” Ross confirmed, before once again pressing his lips to the others. Even if he knew he shouldn’t be kissing him, knowing that instead he should be focussed on getting them both dressed and ready to get into the crowd; he also figured one taste wouldn’t hurt. “Can’t wait for when we get home, have you ride my tongue, then my cock…” Maybe one tease also wouldn’t hurt, a smirk lathered against his lips that were rested against Troye’s own.

Troye: Troye smiled against his lips at the confirmation, pulling him in close, as if they were apart for ages, truth being they hadn’t taken their hands off of one another. He wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling strands of blonde hair back between his fingers as he spoke. He pulled away just to catch his breath, forehead pressed against Ross’s own as he thought out his fantasy. “Fuck, yes,” Troye said, in a way that showed no ounce of him would be left in disappointment if they were to part ways from the festival now. He moved to press his lips to his ear, as if they were back in a crowd of people, his words soft, “We won’t make it out of this room if you keep talking like that.”

Ross: Ross’s hands glided gently along Troye’s waistline, his fingertips pressing softly against the soft fabric of the oversized shirt. A quiet hum escaped his lips as he felt the breath against his ears, accompanied by a grin that seemed permanently etched onto his face. He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning Troye’s features; his eyes dark as he looked at him with such love. “I promised so many people I’d watch their set…” he groaned, his voice carrying the weight of reluctance as he pouted momentarily - until the sight of Troye brought his smile back instantly. “We should stay for just a little while, but I wanna go back to the hotel… soon,” he said, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Moving towards the suitcase, he rummaged through it until he found the trousers he had packed for Troye to wear after his performance - aware he’d want a change; with a quick toss, he threw them in Troye’s direction. “I packed us both hoodies, too. So we can lay low at the back, if you like?”

Troye: Troye hummed happily as Ross’s hand was pressed against him, watching as his lips curved into a smile. He nodded in agreement, eyes following Ross’s movement, his arms extended for whatever he would pass his way. As he caught the article of clothing, he slipped them on over his legs, allowing the shirt to flow over the waistband of the bottoms. He felt cozy, knowing the hoodie Ross had suggested and having him near would only escalate the feeling. “That sounds good, you won’t miss it, but we’ll still have an easy exit,” Troye said with a laugh, running a hand through his hair to try to smooth it out before gesturing towards his boyfriend. “And what about you?” He asked, fully aware he was still naked, standing in front of the open suitcase. “Do you believe in clothes or is this how you’re going to lay low in the back?”

Ross: Ross watched Troye dress, somehow forever captivated with every movement he made. There was something relatively exciting about it, seeing Troye dressed in oversized clothing, Ross’s own clothing - knowing what lay waiting for him underneath. He giggled at Troye’s words; clearly not caring about the fact he was still undressed - if there was something the blonde knew he could be confident about, it was his body, all the more in front of his boyfriend. “Thought this was only for your eyes?” He spoke with a grin, walking across the room to pick up his discarded jeans - not bothering to put his boxers back on as he pulled the denim over his legs. Soon after, he picked up his own hoodie, slinging it over his shoulder, and walking back over to his boyfriend. “You look cute. Nobody on the floor will be able to tell how hard I just fucked you.” He grinned, a chuckle leaving him as he’d peck his lips - as if he hadn’t just said something so graphic. “The people right outside however…”

Troye: Troye wasn’t complaining, given the fact that his gaze still travelled over Ross’s body, taking in the sight before it was covered. His eyes trailed down his chest, to his abs, down beyond his waistline, only snapping out of his stare when he spoke. “Very funny,” Troye replied, a roll of the eyes that had been focused entirely on him. He smiled at Ross’s compliment turned obscene comment, a giggle of his own echoing Ross’s as he reached for the doorknob, watching as he pulled his jeans on, leaving his boxers behind. He fell silent for a moment, knowing it would be a feat to pry his eyes away. “You don’t think anyone else could tell?” He raised his other hand, his fingertips grazing over the marks on his neck. “You sure about that?”

Ross: Ross reached over for the hand Troye had used to graze the skin of his neck, a wide smile spreading across his face as he intertwined their fingers, gently pulling Troye’s away from the marks. “I said just fucked you,” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. He inched his spare hand toward the doorknob, placing it over Troye’s to twist it open. Hearing the door creak, Ross leaned closer, whispering into Troye’s ear, “I think our performance on stage made it very clear that we fuck. Regularly. A lot.” His voice was a soft murmur, trying to not allow the people behind the door to hear; as if they wouldn’t already know. Giving a soft kiss to his temple, and with a final glance around their dressing room, Ross reluctantly tugged Troye’s arm, finally letting them leave to finish the night.

[spider-mar2004]

🕸❤𝕎𝕖𝕓𝕓𝕖𝕕 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕤💙🕸

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 - ℂ𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘

[I was eating at lunch,but i was also craving of many other foods so got some idea of these! This is all pure fluff!]

𝕂𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣

- Okay since Kaine he used eat a lot already done food, usually like pizzas since by the Houston era. So at the start he was very bad at cooking, like clumsy and he ended angry because his patience gone.

- His first food he finally learnt could be fried eggs, poor dude but we can't blame him.

- Afortunately as he became couple of Marlette, he knew cook the basic so phew, soldier safe.

- But his habit of eat pizzas from Houston won't leave, although he had to control himself because too many calories.

- Kaine seems a lot like he loves eat meat, actually he can eat a semi-raw beef without a problem, dude has an iron stomach.

- He always prepares the breakfast, commonly he does smoothes for him and his lady because fast, easy and healthy.

- Yep, he can also be those persons when smells smoke from the food they go crazy.

- Doesn't like sweet things, he very rarely eat sweets.

- Sometimes he offers a bit of his food to Marlette, this man loves share with her in anything. <3

- He doesn't know cook pasta, he tried but his pasta was awful according his partner, i mean what he expected? His woman is half italian, a pasta lover, so, his pasta, not approved!

- Oooh god, Kaine actually is picky! I mean he can eat anything even rocks (jk) but, depends who cooks it, i have a feeling that Kaine ordered just pizzas from one pizzeria so.

- Spicy food lover? Not really but yes he can handle it really well.

- Don't give this man sushi, seems like he hates it because finds it gross.

- The foods that can kill Kaine in love, are apart of pizzas, italian food and latinamerican gastronomy, he will go feral with his woman and adopted daughter's food. (Somehow Aracely can cook but not a lot, but yes simple).

- Yep, he is also those needing a snack at 3 AM.

- Youtube tutorials, that's it.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖 𝕊𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕒

- Not a professional chief, but she cooks really good.

- She mostly knows cook italian, venezuelan (although a bit rarely does) and basic food basically.

- Doesn't know cook cakes and anything, only normal sweets like gelatin, flan, etc.

- Black Beans hater, the smell also pisses her off.

- When Kaine gave his first pasta to her? Well her reaction was basically when you break the raw pasta in half before cook and suddenly a wild angry italian appears.

- Fish lover, give her fish and she will go aarRrfFf (not too crazy but yes she really loves fish).

- Shares her food only with her Kaine, not to others, with others she is territorial.

- Favorite sweet? Dark chocolate cocoa. Totally.

- Better ask her if she allows get a piece of her favorite things, she can be a lil selfish sometimes.

- No thanks, not fan of fried food, i mean she can eat some but everyday? Hell naw she would throw up.

- Her metabolism is a bit slow but she eats well don't worry.

- Since Kaine does the breakfast, she does the lunch and they together cook the dinner.

- Sometimes, when they are alone, she likes tease Kaine with the pasta for mimic that classic scene of the movie "The Lady and the Tramp".

- Prefers fully the home-made food than the street one.

- She had a strict diet after give birth Oliver, she needed be alright, get her figure back and br healthy again.

- If you deny her food, she will force you eat it, cause she cooked it specially for you and she won't throw the food to the trash, many kids wishes a plate of food. :(

- Empty things like sauce, butter, etc? Latina mother life hacks, "Wait is not empty! There is a little can save a lunch.", i don't know explain but, uh i guess you know lol.

- "Don't even dare put your hair on the food, put your hair up." Correct, she HATES see at least a hair on it.

[seongminiz]

ok. i’m back! getting to the point at work where i’m so bored and bothering everyone because of it jk that’s how i am 5 mins in

so.. what was i saying? bermuda line n reader. i kinda just want to live in a house where i’m available for use for bermuda line at all times but i’m trying to be more creative than that. also just fuckboy!hyunjae i was kind of just thinking if ur like friends with juyeon and younghoon, and they bring him around as like a new friend but they’re like pls y/n don’t sleep with him, it’ll be really hard not to but don’t do it, and ur like wtf do u think of me but then… u get it. and it’s a game all the time of flirting with each other and sexual tension and then when you do sleep together, he’s trying to get you to be as loud as possible so the others can hear in the apartment, “that’s it, you’re so good for me” and all that😵‍💫 but u could also replace hyunjae with juyeon or younghoon or like swap them around, i just think it’s kind of hot🥵

and then, trying to figure out smth for all 3, at the same time, i’m thinking that ur fwb with all of them and they sort of know about each other, and they’re either all friends and talk about it or they don’t rly know each other that well but then maybe they start too, and listen my brain is empty all i can think about is just wake up, juyeon, lunch, hyunjae, dinner, younghoon, like maybe i’m just a slut but… lemme just talk about my hcs for them instead cuz i feel like i can’t articulate but i think there isn’t even anything to be specific about.

i see juyeon as like a dom leaning switch, i’ve read some fics where he’s a really sweet subby himbo and i lovveee that but also just juyeon’s hands… juyeon’s body, everything (and he’s such a sweet boy!!!!) he’s definitely a softer dom, but could be a total tease i barely ever think of him without hyunjae and vice versa because their soft dom/mean dom dynamic is just soo !! good !!!!!! but i also rly only see hyunjae as a dom.. can’t see him subbing so much but i mean, it’s possible. and younghoon.. i like as a sub but he’d also definitely be the sweetest dom, i feel like he’d be less of a tease? much gentler, he’d get off on making you feel so good, diminishing you to nothing but high pitched whines and babbled speech, he’d take rly good care of you<333 so all 3 together would be so perfect!! like crazzyyy good, but it’d have to be like.. spread out cuz idk if it could literally all happen at once, you wouldn’t survive but i’m trying to imagine… cuz .. going way off the tracks now, but dp.. is smth i would never want to attempt irl but it makes me think jumil. and then maybe younghoon in ur throat. idk. idk i’m gonna stop myself here for a min.

- 🧁 anon

OK SO let me start off by saying i think i had a bermuda line threesome thought somewhere in my notes up but unfortunately its on my old phone :') if i manage to find it i'll definitely recycle it for this blog („• ᴗ •„)

but i clearly remember it having mean dom!hyunjae , soft dom!juyeon n even softer dom/service top!younghoon so ,,, i completely agree with u on that ^^

anyways , tbh both the idea of already having an established relationship with all three of them n fuckboy!hyunjae being the 'catalyst' to completely turning around ur lives by starting some kind of fwb/situationship thing bc hes a menace like that

n omg dont get me started on dp with jumil .. or any other combination of them tbh idk im crazy n i just know that they all have monster cocks n dp with them would be an almost spiritual experience fr