#bts x yn

[muniimyg]

ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

25 // next // series m. list

note: the reveal !

warnings: kissing, grinding, missionary, ummm.. one leg on headboard position idk, doggy, and riding ! dirty talk (daddy, fanboy, fucktoy, whore, etc) idk what else but that's the vibe ! enj <3

//

the past month with jungkook has been nothing short of fun and comfort. all you’ve felt with him is this kind of warmth that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

jungkook is playful in ways that make your stomach ache from laughter and patient in ways that make your heart swell. he’s always giving in, always biting into you—whether it’s your words, your antics, or the way you press your fingers into his jaw when he teases you too much. he’s funny and charming in ways that are overbearing—smothering—if it weren’t for the fact that you love every second of it. 

and god… 

it’s been so hard not to slip out the words. 

you love him. 

it’s only been a month, but what the fuck does time has to do with the kind of certainty he makes you feel? the kind of love he makes you believe in? 

because this is… this is it. this is love. there is nothing else it could be. 

jungkoook is a gentleman in ways you never expected. 

not just in the hold-the-door-open-for-you way, but in the way he holds it open for the people behind you, too. to him, it’s second nature. it’s the same way it’s second nature for him to shrug off his hoodie and tug it over your shoulders before you even realize you’re cold. it’s in the way he loves everything you are, everything you wear, but still, when you lean in to take a bite of food, his hand finds your chest, shielding you from prying eyes like it’s instinct.

“baby,” you laugh, mid-bite, muffled. “you don’t have to do that.”

he just shrugs, nonchalant. “they don’t deserve the view.”

even at the movies, as he walks behind you, it’s the way his hand is placed at your lower back, guiding and protective. in crowded spaces, he pulls you into his side and tucks you against him like a secret. at dinners, he doesn’t just push your chair in—he makes sure your drink is within reach, makes sure you get the first bite of his food before he even digs into his own.

it’s so strange. 

to feel such passion for someone in a short amount of time—but who are you to reject such goodness? such satisfaction? 

so you don’t. 

for the past month, you have let yourself be loved the way you deserve to be. for the past month, you have been loving him the way he deserves to be loved… except, through sex. 

oh god. 

sex. 

you haven’t had sex with anyone since your ex-boyfriend. it’s always just been you and your vibrators… so, when you met jungkook—fuck. 

you were excited. 

but after the first time you met and he didn’t kiss you… you had a gut feeling sex with him would take time. which is fine. he’s a loser anyway, what did you expect? 

but time (and ovulation) catches up. your lips want to kiss something that isn’t his lips. in fact, you want his lips to be kissing your lips—the ones in between your legs. 

the frustration has been eating you up for days. so, you give in to your cravings at your one month mark. it was a joke—at least, it was meant to be one… instead, you find yourself scrambling through your closet for lingerie you think he’ll like best. 

you choose black. 

simple, classy, and sexy. perfect for him. 

once you get yourself dressed, you put on a silk robe and spray your favourite perfume. you touch up your make-up (yes, we’re wearing makeup and sweating it off) and eagerly wait for him. for a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror and tilt your head. 

wow, you’re so pretty. 

you hope he lasts longer than 5 minutes—

just then, there’s a knock on the door

hurriedly, you let out a little squeal before heading to the front door. 

as you open the door, you find jungkook standing there, a cake box balanced in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. his hair is a mess—like he’s been running his fingers through it over and over, the way he always does when he’s nervous. but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

without a word, he lifts the lid of the box, revealing the cake inside. in bright, obnoxious frosting, the words;

best dick ever 

… stare back at you.

you blink. 

then snort. 

then burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“oh… right. sorry,” he says, feigning innocence as he tilts his head. “should i make it up to you?”

you narrow your eyes. “yeah.”

his brows lift, playful. “yeah? like how?”

you don’t answer. instead, you grab a fistful of his hoodie and pull him in, catching his mouth in a kiss. he hums against your lips, the corners of his mouth quirking up. mid-kiss, he murmurs, “happy one month, baby.”

you laugh into him, harder this time, shaking your head as your arms slip around his neck. and when he tugs at the knot of your robe, letting it slip from your shoulders, he throws his head back with a groan—boyish, excited, so very him.

“fuck,” he grins, placing the cake down on the coffee table without looking, hands already reaching for you. but you’re already a step ahead, fisting his hoodie again, tugging him toward your room.

he follows without hesitation.

 the hottest thing anyone can do is want you.

like, all of you. 

jungkook is sure to do just that. 

the minute jungkook steps into your bedroom, he tugs his hoodie over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought. his hands move to his pocket, pulling out his phone. at first, you think he’s checking something—maybe a text, maybe the time—but instead, he holds it up so you can see.

the screen goes black as he shuts it off.

for a second, you’re confused. he’s always on his phone, always checking something, scrolling absentmindedly even in the middle of conversations. but then, it clicks.

jungkook wants all of you.

this isn’t about notifications ruining the mood, not about avoiding distractions or the buzz of the outside world. it’s a quiet declaration—he doesn’t need a screen, doesn’t need to record, doesn’t need anything but this. he doesn’t need proof. 

he just needs you.

his eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching, waiting.

your chest tightens, warmth blooming in your stomach. you swallow, stepping closer, fingers skimming over his wrist before you take the phone from his hand, placing it on your nightstand.

“just us?” you murmur.

his lips twitch. 

“just us.”

and then he’s kissing you, slow and deep, like he’s savoring the moment already. like he’s making sure you feel it, too.

for someone who has been salivating, craving, and whining for his dick—you sure have a funny way of showing him just how bad you want it. 

as jungkook’s toned and slightly sweaty body towers of you, you bite your lip and watch the way his chain dangles above. you’re sweating a bit, a little overstimulated from the way he just finished eating you out. 

of course, he edged you. he didn’t let you finish on his tongue, but you were so fucking close. your pussy is currently throbbing and so sore from the agonizing pain of clenching. 

jungkook smirks, watching you regulate your breathing. you aren’t panting or anything, but he can tell you’re trying to play it cool. he leans in, kissing your lips ever so slightly. 

“it’s okay to cum.”

“says you.”

he chuckles and mocks you. “says you.”

“shut up and put it in.”

jungkook raises a brow at you. “i’d watch your mouth if i were you.”

“why’s that, daddy? am i being naughty? we’re not even doing this raw. if anything, i’m not being naughty enough.”

he rolls his eyes. 

“you and your fucking attitude.” 

“what attitude?”

“shut up.”

“you shut up—oh…”

jungkook holds his length and glides it around your entrance. you feel his head enter for a millisecond before he uses his hard cock to split through your wet folds. he hums, taking the feeling in. you let out little whimpers, needy and ever so lewd.

it’s music to his ears. in fact, it’s his favourite melody. 

“gonna put it in,” jungkook prepares you. “okay, baby?”

“o-okay,” you breathe. “mhmmmm…”

then, jungkook hisses. 

he feels himself harden even more as he pushes himself inside you. your cunt is so fucking tight, it sends shivers throughout his body. you’re so warm and so fucking pretty as he watches the way you shift, adjusting to his size. you roll your shoulders back, your chin is slightly tilted as you whimper his name. 

“jungkook…”

“mhmm?” 

he moves in more, and then entirely. jungkook buries his long, hard, thick, and veiny cock inside you. it slips in easily, all thanks to your precious wetness. jungkook shifts his position, lowering his body more and places kisses around your neck to your ear. 

for a moment, he blanks. 

this is all he has ever wanted. he wanted to wait for a month because of everything you were dealing with but also because… he knew it would be worth the wait. the tension, the built connection, and the yearning… oh god, does this feel so fucking good. 

to put it into perspective; you’re home and he’s been homesick. 

“nghhh… jungkook?”

“yes, baby?”

“can you put it in?”

jungkook’s eyes shoot up at you. 

his pleasurable expression changes into a death glare. 

instantly, you throw your head back and laugh. you mumble an apology and cup his cheeks to kiss him. he bites your bottom lip as he pulls away. pouting, he huffs at you. 

“that wasn’t funny.”

“it was so funny.”

“you’re the worst, actually.”

“i know,” you agree. “i’m sorry. you’re actually really big.”

his glare stills. 

“how big?”

you sigh and give in to what he’s leading you to. 

“you’re too big daddy,” you begin to praise him. “never felt cock like this. feel you in my guts… god, are you gonna rearrange them? gonna slut me out? bet watching me all this time made you so horny. did i make you horny? was waiting out one month worth it? do i feel good, baby? how does your giant monster cock feel good inside me? or… are you just gonna be a little bitch and make me do all the work? make me fuck you like the good little fanboy you are?”

“not a fucking fanboy.”

“but you are my stupid fanboy… you must’ve loved watching me get myself off. how does it feel, daddy? how does it feel to fuck the pussy you’ve been dreaming of?”

jungkook moans in response. 

“so good..”

“how good?”

“too good…”

he places one forearm down beside you as the other reaches for your breasts. squeezing it, he begins to thrust in and out of you. 

“ohhh.. oh my god… yes, yes, yes! y-yeah, that’s it…” you moan. “just like that, daddy… fucking me so gently… come on, daddy—i know i’m your favourite toy. use me, okay? promise to use me like a little bitch?”

jungkook hisses through his teeth. 

“don’t talk about yourself like that, baby. you know how much i—”

“how much you… what?”

love you. 

“how much i… god, you’re so pretty. have you always been this pretty? feel like you got prettier.” 

with that, he fucks you harder and faster. the switch-up is so crazy that you hit your head on your headboard. 

“shit, you okay?”

you can’t help but laugh. 

“i’m fine,” you reassure him. “come on, daddy… keep going.” 

as he fucks you, your breasts move in unison and he can’t help but drool at the sight. for a split second, you feel him tremble. 

it’s like he’s about to give in. 

so, you do the only logical thing you can. 

you gasp, eyes widening, mouth hanging open in exaggerated shock. then, slowly—dramatically—you stick your arm out, turning your thumb downward like you’ve just witnessed the most tragic disappointment of your life.

“boooooo!” 

“w-what the fuck?” jungkook rolls his eyes. 

without hesitation, he roughly places his hand over your neck. tightening his grip, he fucks you harder. you gasp for air and roll your eyes back. 

you take the feeling it. 

how rough and fast he’s pumping himself inside you. how you feel yourself climaxing soon… how wet you are and how it’s spilling into your sheets. how his dick feels inside you—like it belongs inside you. 

the curve of his tip hits specific spots inside you that has never been reached before. his length, girth, and motion compliment each other—making him fucking you easily your favourite feeling in the world. 

perhaps, he was right about waiting for a month. 

the yearning and tension makes all of this feel a million times more worth it. 

“nghhh,” you croak. “yes, yes yes… that’s it, daddy… f-fuck me harder! fuck me so hard!”

“you want me to fuck you harder, baby?” 

“mhmm. fuck me so good, please… wanna more.”

jungkook nods and takes his hand off of your throat. he lets you catch your breath before he pulls himself out of you. jungkook places his hands on your waist and pulls you down. without hesitation, he kneels and lifts you. both of your ears ring from how fast your hearts are beating as he takes one and places it on the headboard and leaves the other on the mattress. 

“look down,” jungkook spits. 

obediently, you do. 

he hisses, jerks himself off, and then shoves his cock inside you. 

you watch as his balls smack into your ass. you watch as he moves his hips, dragging his dick in and out of you. you hear the sound of your wet pussy, sucking his length as he pulls out. before you know it, jungkook is smacking your ass. you see his hand flying to your cheeks and you let out a whimper as his palms make contact with your ass. 

“nghh…. feels so—”

“you wanna be treated like a fucking whore? look at your pussy right now. look at how much it needs my stupid cock. do you see it, baby? do you see how desperate your pussy needs my cock?”

“yeah,” you choke out a sob. “need you so much… my pussy is yours, daddy. so fucking yours—ahh! oh my god, oh my god—j-jungkook!”

he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you back up. roughly, he tugs your hair and kisses you. you let out a moan as he takes your leg off your headboard and brings you to the edge of your bed. naturally, you get on all fours and arch your back. he gets off the bed and stands behind you. he licks his fingers and explores your folds before placing his dick back inside. 

as expected, he fucks you like an absolute dog. 

“this is what you wanted, right?”

“m-mhmm,” you moan. “so good. you fuck me so good, daddy..”

“that’s right, baby… only me. god, your ass is so pretty. your tits are so perfect. you’re so… holy fuck, you’re my dream girl.”

“yeah?” you blush, fighting the urge to cum. 

“yeah,” jungkook whimpers. “my dream girl.”

with that, he pulls himself out. you crawl back to the middle of your bed and wait for him to join you. when he does, he crashes his lips onto yours and gives you this deep and passionate kiss. like he’s never kissed you before… it feels so new. 

without exchanging words, you grab him by his shoulders and have him lie down. you get on top and begin to grind on him. jungkook watches with his brows knitted together and his throat dries as you hump his cock. then, he loses it when you lift your hips and take a hold of his cock. 

“can we… can i?”

jungkook nods. 

no hesitation.

not a thought behind his doe eyes.

nothing. 

of course, he’d do it raw with you. 

anything you want. 

with loving eyes, jungkook watches as you peel the condom off his angry cock. you twist the plastic around your fingers and gather it all up before dangling it in front of him. 

“you have to cum inside me.”

“okay.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

happily, you toss the condom to the side and giggle.

planting your legs on either side of him, you sit on top of his raw cock and rub yourself on it. you move your hips up and down, taking the feeling of how the curves of his dick feel against your swollen pussy. jungkook watches his dick’s tip grow angrier and angrier. 

and just when he feels like it’s about to explore—

“ohhh,” you shiver as you sink into his cock. “holy shit…”

jungkook lets out a relieved moan. you hum as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes. you feel him harden even more inside of you. as a reaction, your walls tighten. 

“feel so good, baby…”

“yeah? open your eyes, daddy… don’t you wanna watch me fuck you?”

jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll last if he sees this. if he watches your tits bounce or if he watches the way your pussy eats his dick up… he can’t. he’s not strong enough. 

“might cum if i do.”

you laugh and hit his chest. 

“okay… cum then.” 

suddenly, you grab his hand and place it on your breast.

jungkook lifts his head and opens his eyes. he watches as you bounce on his dick shamelessly. you throw your head back. your hips move fast and slow—dragging the consuming feeling of climaxing out. 

then, jungkook feels his hips about to buck. 

“___,” he huffs. “gonna cum…’

“me too,” you pant.

jungkook winces, feeling his toes curl. he feels like he’s just been hit by lightening as this sense of electricity rushes throughout his body. jungkook cums inside you, spilling as you continue to ride him. 

shortly after, you cum. 

then, you get off him.

you fit yourself into jungkook’s arms without a second thought, tucking yourself against his chest like you belong there—because you do. his warmth wraps around you instantly, familiar and safe, and he presses a kiss to your lips, then your forehead, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter.

then, he murmurs, “so… best dick ever?”

you groan, smacking his chest, but you’re already laughing. you’re already pulling him in for another kiss. he’s already kissing you back. 

“best dick ever.”

the room is quiet. 

your breathing is even, soft against the pillow, completely knocked out. jungkook lays there for a moment, staring at the ceiling before sighing, pushing the covers off. he’s thirsty.

jungkook rubs a hand over his face as he makes his way to the kitchen, feet padding softly against the floor. he’s thirsty.

but when he gets there, he stops.

hoseok is at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in soapy water. his hair is slightly damp, like he’s just gotten home and taken a quick shower. the fridge door is still cracked open from when he shoved the cake inside.

jungkook leans against the counter, watching him. "you just get back?"

hoseok doesn’t look up. 

"yeah. figured i’d clean up a bit."

jungkook hums, grabbing a glass. he watches as hoseok rinses a plate, setting it neatly in the drying rack. his movements are methodical, familiar.

"you always do this?" jungkook asks, filling his glass with water. “wash dishes at 3am?”

hoseok shrugs. "she’s sensitive to smell. hates waking up to dirty dishes."

there’s something about the way he says it, like he’s done this a thousand times before, like it’s second nature. jungkook doesn’t like the way that sits in his chest.

jungkook takes a sip of water, trying to figure out the vibe right now. he’s never really had any issues with hoseok before but for some reason… right now… something feels off. 

hoseok finishes up, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it onto the counter.

"you should get some sleep," he says, already heading towards his room.

jungkook swallows the last of his water. "i’ll wash my cup."

hoseok raises a brow. "you don’t have to."

"i want to."

there’s a brief pause before hoseok nods, drying his hands one last time before disappearing down the hall. jungkook turns back to the sink, rinsing out his cup. then, just as he reaches for the faucet, something buzzes.

he glances over. hoseok’s phone, left carelessly on the counter, screen lighting up with a notification.

jungkook shouldn’t look. he knows that.

but he does anyway.

@ donotdisturb: hobi idc if you gave me the video ffs @ donotdisturb: u gave that to me all on ur own. i never asked for that shit. i tweeted it, but u supplied it. get that thru ur fucking head. it’s ur fault.  @ donotdisturb: u’ve stalled her enough. she’s pushing thru with the fucking lawsuit thanks to that fucking jungkook guy. do u get that?  @ donotdisturb: i’m getting sued and it’s all ur fault @ donotdisturb: shit, what kind of a best friend are u to her anyway? going thru her shit and stealing her fucking sex tape to send to a hater like me when the gag is that u’re her biggest hater. what is that?  @ donotdisturb: thought u liked her lol. turns out u’re the worst wannabe boyfriend  @ donotdisturb: stop the lawsuit or send me fucking money to pay the settlement. this is ur last warning before i expose u. 

jungkook freezes as he reads the notifications. 

his grip tightens around the cup. his jaw clenches. the words sit heavy in his stomach, stirring something ugly.

before he can think, before he can stop himself, he picks up the phone and storms down the hall, shoving open hoseok’s door without knocking.

hoseok barely has time to react before jungkook is in his face, voice sharp. 

"what the fuck did you do?"

hoseok freezes for half a second, then instantly goes on the defensive. "who the fuck do you think you are barging into my room like this?" he snaps. "why do you have my fucking phone? give me that—”

“it was you.”

“what the fuck are you on? holy shit, you’re so fucking irritating, you know that? i get you’re her boyfriend, but this is my fucking room, that’s my fucking phone, and she’s my fucking best friend—"

"that’s all she is to you," jungkook bites. "right?"

silence.

before hoseok can even open his mouth to say anything, you appear in the doorway, rubbing sleep from your eyes. you don’t even think twice before stepping into jungkook’s side, arms looping around his waist as you nuzzle into him.

"why are you guys so loud?" you mumble, half awake. "what’s going on?"

jungkook doesn’t look away from hoseok. yet, his arm tightens around you.

“___…” hoseok begins. “jungkook… it’s late. we can talk about this tomorrow—”

“no,” jungkook spits. “explain yourself now.”

hoseok steps forward, attempting to grab his phone. jungkook doesn’t move back. instead, he offers the phone to you. 

you stare at it blankly. 

with worried eyes, hoseok shakes his head. “please, jungkook. i’m begging you. don’t—”

“tell her," jungkook deadpans. his tone is steady and leaves no room for argument. he means it with all his heart when he threatens hoseok; "right now… tell her or i will."

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 22

˗ˏˋ karaoke night ˎˊ˗

"Vanilla extract has always been his lifeline, and tonight is no different."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 11k

content: friendly drunkness, karaoke, lowkey interest, girl talk, unwanted appearances, trauma responses, isolation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, vulnerability, sneak peeks, soft, lowkey real conversations, subtle references to the past.

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY. Let me just start by screaming into the void real quick: SIX. HUNDRED. NOTES. And TWO HUNDRED VOTES. IN LESS THAN FORTY-EIGHT HOURS?? What the actual hell is wrong with you people??? I'm genuinely flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Reeling. I thought I had time. I thought I could chill. But NO. Y’all are CRACKED and now I’m upping the goal like an absolute psychopath because clearly you’re fiends and I am merely your supplier. I’ll give you your fix, don’t worry. Just know I’m running out of backlogged chapters and my therapist is gonna hear about it.

Anyway.

This chapter. Hoo boy. This chapter feels like the emotional hangover after a wild night—the kind where everything feels a little too raw, a little too exposed, and you’re left trying to piece together what the fuck happened between the yelling and the tequila. There's a reason why I framed it this way, too—because this is the shift. The oh shit, real people have real pasts and they bleed sometimes moment. The façade cracks here, and it does so in ways that are deliberately uncomfortable.

Jungkook is so many things in this chapter, but most importantly, he’s small. And I don’t mean that physically. I mean small like a kid trying to crawl into his own skin. That rooftop scene? I wanted you to feel the stillness after the storm, the weird quiet that happens when someone you thought was bulletproof shows up vulnerable and unguarded for once. And it’s messy. He doesn’t have answers. He doesn’t give you the sob story, not yet. He gives you glimpses. Vanilla extract, deflections, silence. All of it is by design.

(Also yes, the vanilla extract thing is a metaphor. Yes, I know it’s weird. No, I won’t elaborate. Just know it’s real and kind of tragic and also weirdly endearing. Like him.)

And Y/N… god. She’s tiptoeing the line so hard here. Because she wants to help and she wants to understand and she also very much wants to not feel. But she does. And she hates it. And she jokes because otherwise she’ll unravel. And that’s what makes this chapter so bittersweet to me—because they’re both posturing like they’re fine, but their actions betray them. Their quiet kindness, the subtle care. The intimacy isn’t in the sex anymore. It’s in the stillness. In the scent memory. In the way he says “you smell like vanilla” like it’s the only anchor he has left.

And let’s not even talk about Mia because that woman is the human embodiment of a champagne cork to the eye. I will simply say this: trauma is not always loud. Sometimes it’s a whisper that sticks to your ribs. Sometimes it’s someone’s name.

Anyway.

This chapter is long, chaotic, unfiltered, and possibly one of the most emotionally raw things I’ve written for this fic so far. So please take care of yourself while reading. You don’t have to romanticize brokenness. You don’t have to love these characters for their damage. But you can hold space for them. Just like they’re learning to do for each other.

Also Taehyung deserves a nap and a raise for his emotional labor.

As always, I’m deeply grateful you’re here, crying and laughing and spiraling with me. Keep being feral in the comments. Keep voting if it makes your little goblin brain happy. And maybe—just maybe—hug your own Jungkook if you’ve got one.

Or your therapist.

They deserve it.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Tequila makes you do stupid shit, like hugging people you normally avoid touching with a ten-foot pole.

You practically launch yourself from your seat, the room tilting at an alarming angle as you throw your arms around Yeji's neck. 

"Holy shit," she laughs, body stiffening with surprise before awkwardly patting your back. "Okay, this is literally the first hug you've ever given me and I don't know how to feel about it." 

You ignore her, already detaching yourself and stumbling toward Irya, who catches you with more grace, giggling as you nearly topple both of you over.

"Hi to you too," she says, squeezing back gently.

Jimin is next, accepting your clumsy attempt at physical affection with the patient tolerance of someone used to dealing with drunk friends. He pats your back, concern etched in his features.

"How are you doing?" he asks, holding you at arm's length to study your face.

You flash him a thumbs up, swaying slightly on your feet. "Absofuckinglutely amazing."

"Okay, yeah. No." He shakes his head, exchanging a knowing look with Yeji.

"Why are you guys even here?!" The question bursts out louder than you intended, making several heads turn.

Yeji shrugs, all casual nonchalance. "This is a famous ramen place. Irya's been wanting to come for a long time."

"Guilty!" Irya raises her hand with a sheepish smile.

"And Jimin was like a lost puppy, so we just kind of adopted him," Yeji adds, nodding toward him.

Irya shoves Yeji's shoulder. "No, actually, I was studying with Jimin, and Yeji just came in and was like 'yo, let's have spicy ramen!' And we kinda rolled with it."

You snort, turning around to find the entire table watching this interaction with varying degrees of amusement. 

Jungkook has his hand pressed against his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

You mouth 'die' at him, and he throws his palms up in mock surrender, the bastard.

"Well..." You gesture vaguely, suddenly realizing you need to perform introductions. "These are my friends." 

The words feel strange on your tongue—not because they're untrue, but because saying them out loud makes them real in a way you weren't prepared for. 

"Yeji, Irya, and Jimin," you continue, pointing at each one. "And this is... um..."

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to remember the names of all the people around this table. There's Yoongi, obviously, and Taehyung, and Hobi, and... the others. The gaming nerds. And Tessa. And that other girl who judged your ramen choice.

You wave your hand in a circle, encompassing the whole table. "Jungkook's birthday squad."

Awkwardness settles over you as you realize the predicament. Your friends are here, but it's not like you can just abandon Jungkook's party to join them. That would be rude. And weird. And probably not what a good roommate would do. 

Not that you care about being a good roommate. But still. Principle of the thing or whatever. 

Before the silence can stretch too long, Yeji speaks up. "We were heading to the karaoke place that's like five minutes from here, if y'all want to come?"

All eyes shift to Jungkook, the birthday boy, the decision-maker. 

But instead of looking at his friends, he looks at you first.

You look back at him, a silent question passing between you.

Then he smiles—not his usual smirk, but something softer, more genuine—and turns to Yeji. 

“Sure, absolutely. Count us in."

“Hell yes!” Hobi exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to show off my pipes!”

“God help us all,” Taehyung mutters, but he’s already standing, clearly on board with the plan.

“What about the bill?” Diana asks, glancing around at the mess of empty glasses and half-finished food.

“Already covered,” Yoongi says, holding up his phone to show a payment confirmation. “Birthday gift.”

“You paid for all of this?” You blink at him, genuinely surprised. “That’s… actually really nice, Yoongi.”

He shrugs, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the acknowledgment. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is,” you insist, the alcohol making you more earnest than usual. “You’re a good friend.”

He gives you a look that clearly says ‘please stop talking now,’ so you do, but not before patting his shoulder in what you hope is a comradely fashion.

The group begins gathering their things, a chaotic shuffle of jackets and phones and forgotten scarves. You stand in the middle of it all, suddenly aware of how drunk you actually are as the room tilts alarmingly when you try to take a step.

“Whoa there,” a voice says near your ear, and then there’s a hand at your elbow, steadying you. 

Jungkook. 

“You good?”

“Fine,” you say automatically, then reconsider. “Okay, maybe not fine. But I’m upright, so that’s something.”

“A low bar, but I respect it.” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something else there too—concern, maybe. It’s hard to tell through the tequila fog.

“I can walk,” you insist, taking a deliberate step forward to prove your point. 

Your legs cooperate, mostly, though the floor seems to be at a slight angle that wasn’t there before.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He’s still close, though, ready to catch you if you stumble. “Just making sure you don’t face-plant in front of everyone. Would hate for you to embarrass yourself.”

“Too late for that,” you mutter, remembering your enthusiastic greeting to your friends.

A laugh escapes him, quiet enough that only you can hear it. “Nah, you’re fine. You’re just… friendlier when you’re drunk. It’s kind of cute.”

“I am not cute,” you say with as much dignity as you can muster while swaying slightly. “I am intimidating and cool.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees solemnly. “The most intimidating and cool person in the room. Everyone’s terrified.”

You glare at him, but it’s hard to maintain when he’s looking at you like that—amused but not mocking, a softness around his eyes that makes your stomach do a weird flip that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Shut up,” you say, lacking a more clever comeback. “It’s your fault anyway. Your stupid friends kept giving me shots.”

“My stupid friends, huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “And what does that make me?”

“The king of the stupid friends,” you declare, poking him in the chest. “The stupidest of them all.”

He catches your finger before you can poke him again, his hand warm around yours. 

“Your Majesty, then.”

“Oh my god, you’re so—” You break off, distracted by the way he’s still holding your hand, casual as anything. 

You pull away, flustered for no good reason. 

“Let’s go. Karaoke awaits.”

“After you, Phoenix.” He gestures toward the door where your friends are gathering with the others.

You make your way over, focusing intently on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping. It’s harder than it should be, but you manage, only weaving slightly.

Yeji appears at your side, linking her arm through yours. 

“How much have you had to drink?” she asks, voice low.

“A moderate amount,” you hedge. “An appropriate amount. A birthday celebration amount.”

“So, too much.”

“Maybe.”

She sighs, tightening her grip on your arm. “Babes, I’ve never seen you drunk. You sure you’re okay?

“Yuuusss,” you decide, nodding solemnly. “I stand by my choices.”

“Of course you do.” She glances over at Jungkook, who’s now engaged in an animated conversation with Taehyung and Hobi. “So, what’s going on there?”

“Where?” you ask, playing dumb even though you know exactly what she means.

“With your roommate. The one whose birthday party we just crashed.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you insist, too quickly. “We’re just… I don’t know. Trying to be friends. Or something. I guess.”

Friends. You and Jungkook. 

Friends.

It’s starting to sound less terrifying.

“I see.” She grins, positioning her head on your shoulder. “Just don’t replace me, huh? I’m your new college bestie. I claim that title.”

Before you can respond, Irya bounces over, linking her arm through Yeji’s free one. 

“Are we ready? The karaoke place gets busy on Saturdays.”

“We’re ready,” you confirm, smiling stupidly at the blonde. “Lead the way.”

As your strange, merged group spills out onto the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder how the hell you ended up here—drunk, surrounded by people who barely know each other, heading to a karaoke bar on a Saturday night.

It’s bizarre. Surreal. Absolutely not how you expected your evening to go when you agreed to take Jungkook to the MoMA this morning.

But as you watch him laugh at something Irya says, his face open and relaxed in a way you rarely see at home, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it. 

Even if your head is spinning and your stomach is dangerously close to rejecting every questionable decision you’ve made tonight.

You catch his eye across the group, and he grins at you—that stupid, lopsided grin that always makes you want to either slap him or—

Well. Other things.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too, unable to help yourself. And when he falls into step beside you as the group starts moving, close enough that your shoulders occasionally brush, you don’t move away.

It’s his birthday, after all. You can give him that much.

Somehow, the sidewalk is significantly more difficult to navigate than it was four hours ago.

"Careful," Jimin murmurs as you stumble over absolutely nothing for the third time in two blocks. He steadies you with a gentle grip, adjusting to link his arm more securely with yours.

"The ground is uneven," you insist, though it's clearly not. "Poorly maintained city infrastructure. Someone should write a strongly worded letter."

"Definitely the sidewalk's fault," he agrees, humor warming his soft voice.

You've ended up at the back of your odd parade, watching as your two separate friend groups merge into a loud, laughing mass of bodies moving through the Manhattan night. Yeji has somehow ended up walking beside Taehyung, both of them gesturing wildly as they argue about something. Irya is chatting with Tessa—a combination you wouldn't have predicted—while Hobi tells an animated story to Ryan and Seth that has them howling with laughter.

And then there's Jungkook, right in the middle of it all, moving between conversations simply like someone accustomed to being the center of attention. Even from behind, you can tell he's having a good time—shoulders relaxed, head thrown back in laughter at something Hobi says.

You can’t help but think it’s… a bit strange, seeing him like this. In the apartment, he's always a bit wound up—ready with a sarcastic comment or provocation. But here, surrounded by friends, celebrating, he seems... looser. 

Happier.

It's a good look on him. 

Not that you care.

"Here we are!" Hobi announces as your group reaches a neon-lit storefront, the sign advertising ‘SING YOUR HEART OUT’ in aggressively colorful lettering. "Best karaoke in the East Village."

The place is crowded—not surprising for a Saturday night—but Hobi apparently knows someone who works here because you're whisked past the line of waiting people and into the lobby with minimal fuss.

Inside, it reeks of cheap beer and cheaper air freshener, and the walls are plastered with faded posters of pop stars past and present; along with some occasional muffled screech of someone butchering a high note from one of the private rooms.

Everyone begins shedding layers at the coat check, a flurry of jackets and scarves being handed over to a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up from her phone. 

You hang back with Jimin, suddenly aware of how sweaty your shirt is under your own jacket. 

Great. 

Nothing like marinating in your own alcohol-infused sweat to round out the evening.

"I kind of can't believe we're doing this," you mutter to Jimin, still leaning on him more heavily than you'd like to admit. "Karaoke? With these people? Is this real life?"

"It's definitely happening," he confirms, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Though I'm not sure how much you'll remember tomorrow."

"I'm not that drunk," you protest automatically. "I'm just... celebrating."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't sound convinced.

Across the lobby, Yeji and Jungkook are locked in what appears to be an intense negotiation over room selection, both of them pointing at different options on the laminated menu the hostess is holding. Taehyung stands nearby, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's developing a migraine.

"I'm telling you, the premium room has better song selection," Yeji insists, her voice carrying across the space.

"But the deluxe has the light-up dance floor," Jungkook counters, gesturing emphatically. "It's my birthday, I want the dance floor!"

"The dance floor is tacky!"

"It's not tacky, it's fun!"

"It's the definition of tacky."

"Your face is the definition of tacky."

"Wow, super mature comeback there, birthday boy."

Your eyes drift from their bickering to the quieter presence leaning against the far wall. Yoongi stands slightly apart from the group, scrolling through his phone with the detached air of someone who's physically present but mentally elsewhere. 

You notice Jimin's gaze has followed yours. He's studying Yoongi with an intensity that feels almost... private. Like you're witnessing something you shouldn't.

"That's your other roommate, right?" he asks, voice soft.

"Yeah," you nod, head still resting on his shoulder. "Yoongi."

Jimin just smiles, a small, soft thing that doesn't quite reach his eyes. There's something there—a question, maybe, or a thought he's not voicing—but before you can figure it out, Yeji's sharp voice cuts through the moment.

"Y/N! Get over here and settle this!"

You straighten, blinking rapidly as the room spins slightly with the sudden movement. 

“What?"

"Premium or deluxe?" she demands, beckoning you impatiently. "Tell this idiot that premium is clearly superior."

Jungkook turns to you, actually pouting like a kid who's been told he can't have a second ice cream cone. 

"The deluxe has a light-up floor," he says, as if this is the most compelling argument in the world. "And disco balls."

You look between them, trying to focus through the tequila fog. It shouldn't be this hard to form an opinion about karaoke rooms, and yet. 

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up at the absurdity of the situation—Yeji and Jungkook, two of the most stubborn people you know, locked in a standoff over something so utterly trivial.

"Come on, Yeji," you say, rolling your eyes even as you fight back another laugh. "He's the birthday boy. Let him make a choice that matters in his life for once."

Jungkook's indignant "yooo!" is drowned out by Yeji's dramatic sigh.

"Fine," she concedes, throwing up her hands. "But when we get stuck with a shitty song selection, don't come crying to me."

"I'll make it up to you," Jungkook promises, already bouncing with excitement. "You can choose the first song."

"Damn right I will." She huffs, no anger behind it.

Jungkook turns to you, triumph written all over his stupid handsome face. "See? I can be reasona—" He cuts himself off with a yelp as you swat at him playfully.

"Don't push it," you warn, but you're smiling despite yourself.

The hostess, who's been watching this entire exchange with the weary resignation of someone who's seen far too many drunk people argue over karaoke rooms, clears her throat pointedly. 

“So... deluxe room? For how many hours?"

"Two," Hobi calls from where he's now organizing a drink order with the rest of the group. "At least!"

"Follow me," she says, gathering menus and leading the way down a dimly lit hallway plastered with even more music posters.

Your odd group trails after her like ducklings, Jungkook practically skipping in excitement. You hang back slightly, still unsteady on your feet, and find yourself walking beside Yoongi, who's finally pocketed his phone.

"You sure about this?" he asks quietly, eyeing you with what might be concern. "You look like you're about ten minutes from passing out."

"I'm fine," you insist, though the hallway is doing that weird tunnel-vision thing that definitely isn't normal. "Just pacing myself."

He snorts, clearly not buying it. "Sure."

"I am," you argue, even as you reach out to steady yourself against the wall. "Totally in control."

"Right." His tone is dry as dust. "That's why you're currently leaning on a poster of Justin Bieber."

You glance over and, sure enough, your hand is planted firmly on young Bieber's face. 

You snatch it away with a grimace. 

"Ew."

"Exactly." He doesn't say anything else, but he stays close as you make your way down the hall, oddly comforting in its steadiness.

Just like the day at the gynecologist.

The deluxe room, when you finally reach it, lives up to Jungkook's hype—it's large enough to fit your entire group comfortably, with plush seating along the walls, a central space that is indeed illuminated by color-changing floor panels, and not one but two disco balls hanging from the ceiling. The most impressive feature, though, is the giant screen taking up one entire wall, currently displaying the karaoke company's logo bouncing around like an old DVD screensaver.

"This is amazing," Jungkook declares, immediately bouncing onto the dance floor, which lights up green and blue under his feet. "Worth every penny."

"We haven't paid yet," Taehyung reminds him, but he's smiling as he says it.

"Details," Jungkook waves dismissively, spinning in a circle that makes the floor shift colors again. "Come on, everyone pick a song! I want to hear Hobi destroy 'Uptown Funk' again!"

"Bold of you to assume I'd repeat myself," Hobi says, already flipping through the song catalog. "I'm thinking Beyoncé tonight."

"God help us all," Taehyung mutters, but he's already grabbing a microphone.

You sink onto one of the couches, grateful for the chance to sit before your legs give out. 

The room is spinning slightly, but in a pleasant way now—like you're on a very slow merry-go-round. From this vantage point, you can watch as everyone settles in, claiming seats and drinks and song choices with the chaotic energy of people determined to have a good time.

Jungkook is still in the center of it all, now trying to convince Yeji to duet with him on some song you can't quite make out over the general noise. She's protesting, but you can tell she'll give in eventually—there's a gleam in her eye that says she's enjoying this more than she's letting on.

The first note of "Don't Stop Believin'" hasn't even finished before Hobi's on his feet, microphone clutched in his hand like it's the Olympic torch and he's the last runner.

What follows can only be described as a religious experience.

The man doesn't just sing—he performs. 

Every note, every gesture, every hip thrust (and there are many) executed with the determination of someone who's spent significant time studying the art of karaoke domination.

By the time he hits the chorus, the entire room is on their feet, singing along whether they want to or not. 

You find yourself belting out words you didn't even know you remembered, arm slung around Yeji's shoulders as you sway dramatically.

And that's just the beginning.

Taehyung and Jungkook follow with some K-pop song you've never heard but somehow everyone else seems to know the choreography to. Irya delivers a surprisingly powerful Adele ballad that has Yeji staring at her with undisguised adoration. Seth and Ryan butcher ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with the confidence of men who have never been told they can't sing.

Somewhere between your third vodka cranberry and Yeji's unexpectedly heartfelt rendition of ‘Dancing Queen,’ you lose all remaining inhibitions.

Which is how you end up center stage, microphone in hand, challenging Taehyung to an Eminem rap battle that neither of you are remotely qualified for.

"I've got this," you hiss, yanking the mic toward you as the opening beats of ‘Lose Yourself’ start playing. "I've been preparing my whole life. Get ready to get your ass beaten, jerkinci.”

"You've been preparing to embarrass yourself," Taehyung retorts, tugging the microphone back. "I actually know all the words."

"Bullshit. Nobody knows all the words."

The first verse hits and you're both fumbling, words slurring together as you try to keep pace with the rapid-fire lyrics. 

You've got maybe every third word right, but what you lack in accuracy you make up for in enthusiasm, half-shouting into the microphone while Taehyung tries to pry it from your grasp.

"His palms are sweaty—"

"—mom's spaghetti—"

"—nervous, but on the surface he looks—"

"—SPAGHETTI!"

You dissolve into laughter at the same time Taehyung does, both of you bent double as the backing track continues without you. 

"Draw," Jungkook declares from somewhere to your left. "You both lose. Spectacularly."

"I clearly won," you argue, straightening up with as much dignity as you can muster, which isn't much. "I hit at least four words correctly."

"Wow, four whole words," Taehyung deadpans. "Eminem is shaking."

"He should be," you agree solemnly. "I'm coming for his whole career."

The music shifts to something slower, and you realize you're suddenly very, very thirsty. And maybe a little dizzy. 

You hand the microphone to Jimin, who's been quietly watching the disaster unfold with a bemused smile.

"Your turn," you tell him, patting his arm. "Show them how it's done."

He starts to protest, but Irya's already pulling him toward the screen, insisting they do a duet. 

You make your way back to the couches, flopping down with more force than intended. The room tilts briefly before righting itself.

"Need a break?" Jungkook asks, appearing beside you with a glass of water. 

When did he get water? More importantly, when did he get so considerate?

"Maybe," you admit, accepting the glass. "Thanks."

He studies your face for a moment, and you resist the urge to check if you've got something on it. 

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom. Don't pass out while I'm gone."

"No promises."

He laughs, the sound warm even over the pulsing music, and then he's gone, weaving through your friends toward the exit.

You take a long sip of water, letting the cool liquid soothe your throat, raw from shouting lyrics and laughing too hard. 

Your eyes dance around, noticing Hobi teaching Ryan some dance move on the light-up floor, Yeji and Irya huddled together on one of the couches, heads bent close as they flip through the song catalog, Taehyung now trying to convince Yoongi to join him for something that has Yoongi shaking his head emphatically.

It's... nice. In a chaotic, messy, not-at-all-what-you-planned kind of way.

The couch dips as someone sits beside you. You turn, expecting Yeji or Jimin, and find yourself face to face with Tessa instead.

"Hi!" she says brightly, tucking a strand of perfect auburn hair behind her ear. "Mind if I join you for a minute?"

"Free country," you shrug, shifting slightly to make room even though there's plenty of space.

She smiles, and you can't help noticing how ridiculously pretty she is even in the garish lighting of the karaoke room. No smudged mascara, no frizzy hair, no signs of being several drinks in like the rest of you heathens. 

It's annoying. 

Pretty people should have the decency to look at least a little disheveled when everyone else does.

“That was quite a performance,” she says, smiling warmly. “I didn’t know you were into rap.”

“I’m not, really,” you admit, taking another sip of water. “I just couldn’t let Taehyung think he’s better than me at something.”

She laughs, the sound light and genuinely amused. “You guys have known each other long?”

“Not really. Just through Jungkook, honestly.”

“Oh!” Her face brightens at the mention of his name. “That’s actually… I was hoping to talk to you about him, if you don’t mind?”

The way her voice lifts hopefully at the end, combined with the slight flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with alcohol, tells you exactly where this conversation is headed. 

Great. 

Girl talk about your hookup buddy. Exactly what you signed up for tonight.

But there’s something so genuinely nice about her expression that you can’t bring yourself to brush her off. 

It’s not her fault Jungkook’s… well, Jungkook.

“What about him?” you ask, though you already know.

“I just… I really like him? And I was wondering if you had any insights, you know, being his roommate and all.”

You should have seen this coming. 

Of course the pretty film student would be into Jungkook. Of course she’d want insider information.

Wait.

How the actual fuck does Jungkook pull these types of women? 

Like, seriously. This girl looks like she should be dating a 6’4” investment banker with good hair, not your annoying roommate who sometimes forgets to wash his coffee mug for so long it develops its own ecosystem.

The universe is truly unfair.

“I’ve only lived with him for about a month,” you say, because it’s true and also gives you time to process.

“I know, I know,” she says quickly. “But you must have some impression of him by now, right? Like, what’s he really like? Outside of class and everything?”

You take another long drink of water, considering. 

The truth is, you do know things about Jungkook that probably no one in this room knows—like how he bakes sourdough when he can’t sleep, or how he gets oddly protective of Griffin’s food schedule, or the precise sound he makes when he comes.

Which is actually a thought that gives you pause. 

If Tessa and Jungkook start dating, that means your arrangement would end. 

No more convenient stress relief. 

No more really good sex after bad days.

That would kind of suck, honestly. Because whatever else he is, Jungkook is fantastic in bed. The idea of giving that up isn’t particularly appealing.

But on the other hand… aren’t you kind of friends now? Or at least trying to be? 

And friends help each other out. 

Even if that means letting go of a mutually beneficial sex arrangement.

Besides, look at her. She’s gorgeous, clearly intelligent, and seems genuinely sweet. Jungkook would be a complete idiot to pass that up for occasional hookups with his sarcastic roommate.

She’s still looking at you expectantly, those wide hazel eyes so earnest it’s almost painful.

“He’s…” you start, then sigh. “Look, I don’t really know him that well outside of basic roommate stuff.”

“Oh.” Her face falls slightly.

Dammit. 

Why does she have to look like a disappointed puppy?

“But,” you continue, “I can tell you he’s very passionate about film. Like, genuinely passionate, not just doing it because it seems cool.”

Her expression brightens immediately. “I know, right? The way he talks about cinematography is so… I don’t know, refreshing? Like he actually cares about the art of it.”

“And he’s good with his hands,” you add before you can stop yourself, then immediately want to die. “I mean, like, fixing things! He fixed our bathroom sink when it was leaking.”

Nice save, idiot.

“That’s so sweet,” she says, apparently not picking up on your momentary panic. “He seems really thoughtful, you know? Like, in class he’s always offering to help people with their equipment.”

You nod, because that actually tracks with what you’ve seen of him. For all his annoying qualities, Jungkook does seem to genuinely care about helping people sometimes. It’s one of his more redeeming features.

“You really like him, huh?” you ask, though it’s obvious.

She blushes, looking down at her hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But it’s cute.”

And it is cute, actually. 

She seems genuinely into him, not just physically attracted or playing some kind of game. 

It’s surprising that a girl like her would be interested in your dumbass roommate, but weirder things have happened.

“Do you think I have a chance?” she asks, her voice dropping to a near whisper, as if she’s sharing a secret. “I mean, I’ve been trying to drop hints, but I can’t tell if he’s picking up on them or just being nice.”

You glance toward the door where Jungkook disappeared, considering. Because in all honesty, you have no idea what his type is beyond ‘willing and available.’ Your arrangement has never included discussions about who else either of you might be seeing or interested in. For all you know, he could be totally into Tessa.

And really, why wouldn’t he be? She’s gorgeous, smart from what you can tell, and seems genuinely kind. 

She’s basically way too good for him, but if she can’t see that, it’s not your job to point it out.

“I think…” you start slowly, turning back to her. “I think you should go for it.”

“Really?” Her whole face lights up, and you find yourself smiling back reflexively.

“Yeah, really.” 

You straighten up, suddenly feeling like you’re on more solid ground. This is just basic girl code, after all. Helping a fellow woman navigate the treacherous waters of modern dating, even if the guy in question is your occasional fuck buddy.

Plus, you can be the bigger person here. 

Yes, the sex with Jungkook is great, but there will be other guys. Other hot idiots to hook up with. It’s not like he’s the only option in New York City.

“Look, Jungkook’s… an okay guy, I guess? But if you like him, you should definitely let him know. Life’s too short for subtle hints.”

“That’s what Irya said too!” She laughs, reaching out to squeeze your arm gratefully. “Oh my god, thank you. I was so nervous to ask you, because I didn’t know if you two were… you know.”

“Me and Jungkook?” You almost choke on your water. “God, no. Absolutely not. We’re just roommates. Barely even friends, honestly.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Yes, you’ve been sleeping together, but it’s just physical. There are no feelings involved. It’s just convenient, uncomplicated sex—exactly how you like it.

“Oh, good,” she says, relief clear in her voice. “I wasn’t sure, and I’d never want to step on any toes.”

“No toes here,” you assure her, wiggling your feet for emphasis. “Completely toe-free zone.”

She giggles, and you find yourself smiling back. She really is nice, which makes it hard to keep disliking her just for being pretty and put-together.

“So,” you continue, feeling oddly invested now. “What’s your plan? How are you going to let him know you’re interested?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, biting her lip. “I was thinking maybe I could ask him to coffee? To discuss a project or something? But that might be too subtle.”

“Definitely too subtle. Guys are dense as bricks. Trust me.”

“What would you suggest then?”

You tap your chin, thinking. “You should just ask him out directly. No pretense, no ‘let’s discuss this project.’ Just ‘hey, I like you, let’s go on a date.’”

“Oh god,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that.”

“Sure you are,” you encourage, surprising yourself with your sudden enthusiasm for this matchmaking endeavor. “Look at you! You’re gorgeous, smart, and frankly, way out of his league. If anything, he should be intimidated by you.”

She peeks through her fingers, looking both flattered and skeptical. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. In fact…” You pull out your phone, opening your contacts. “Give me your number. I’ll help you figure out the perfect approach.”

“Seriously?” She beams, reciting her number as you type it in. “That would be amazing. I’m so glad we got to talk tonight.”

“Me too,” you say, and find that you actually mean it. “And hey, even if things with Jungkook don’t work out, we should hang out sometime. You seem cool.”

“I’d love that!” She looks genuinely delighted, which makes you feel a small pang of guilt for your initial judgment of her based solely on her perfect hair and flawless makeup.

As you finish entering her contact info, you glance around and realize Jungkook still hasn’t returned from the bathroom. 

It’s been what, ten minutes? Fifteen? Way too long, even accounting for lines or hand-washing (which, knowing him, is probably not a factor anyway).

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell Tessa, pocketing your phone. “I just want to check that your future boyfriend hasn’t fallen in or something.”

She chuckles at the term but nods, still smiling. “Sure. I’ll save your seat.”

You navigate through the chaos of the room, dodging Hobi’s enthusiastic dance moves and stepping over Taehyung, who’s now sprawled dramatically across the floor reciting what sounds like Shakespeare to a bemused Yeji. The hallway outside is quieter, though the bass from neighboring rooms thrums through the walls.

Where the hell did Jungkook go? The bathrooms are just down the hall, and there’s no way he’d ditch his own birthday celebration. 

Maybe he’s answering a call? Or got waylaid by some random person?

Or maybe the idiot got lost on the way back. You wouldn’t put it past him.

With a sigh, you head toward the bathrooms, determined to drag his ass back to the party. 

After all, you’ve got a stunning redhead waiting to shoot her shot with him, and you’ll be damned if your sacrifice of great casual sex goes to waste because he can’t find his way back from taking a piss.

You turn the corner, ready to pound on the men's room door and yell at Jungkook for taking forever, when—oh.

He's not alone.

There's a girl. Of course there's a girl. Because when isn't there a girl around Jungkook?

This one's got shiny black hair down to her waist and is wearing what looks like an actual fucking Chanel dress to a karaoke bar. 

Who does that? 

The kind of person who also wears Louboutins to a place where the floor is permanently sticky with spilled beer, apparently.

But it's not her rich bitch outfit that makes you stop.

It's Jungkook.

He looks... wrong. 

He's staring at the floor like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, shoulders hunched forward in a way that makes him seem smaller somehow. His usual swagger is completely gone. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for air, not actually saying anything.

It's weird. 

Really fucking weird.

Before you can think better of it, you're walking toward them. 

Stupid protective instinct. Stupid tequila. Stupid feet moving without permission.

Jungkook notices you first, his eyes widening in what looks like panic. The girl turns around, giving you a slow once-over that makes you feel like you've been scanned and found wanting. 

She's beautiful. Like, unfairly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that probably makes other girls hate her on sight. Perfect skin, dark eyes, delicate features that look more doll-like than human. Her smile is almost too perfect, like it was professionally installed rather than something that grew naturally on her face.

"Oh my gosh, hi!" Her voice is high and sweet, like artificial honey. "I'm so sorry, am I keeping him too long? You must be looking for Kooky."

Kooky? Is she fucking serious right now?

"Can you believe we ran into each other? What are the chances?" She grabs your arm like you're old friends, squeezing with perfectly manicured nails that dig in slightly. "I was just telling him it must be fate. Some connections are just meant to be, right?"

She's acting like you're all at some cute reunion instead of standing in a gross hallway outside a karaoke bathroom. Her perfume is expensive and overwhelming—the kind that probably has a French name and costs more than your rent.

Jungkook clears his throat, still not looking at her. "It's just a coincidence, Mia."

Mia. 

The name hits like a slap. 

This is her? The ex that sent those texts that made him look like he'd seen a ghost? 

Bitch looks like she belongs on a billboard, not stalking her ex in a karaoke bar.

"Oh, you're so skeptical," she laughs, the sound like tiny bells. "Always was. That's what I loved about you though, always keeping me grounded." She turns to you with a conspiratorial smile. "He's the practical one. I'm the dreamer. We balanced each other so well."

She's talking about him like he's not standing right there. 

Like he's a character in a story she's telling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name? I'm Mia."

"Y/N," you say flatly. "Jungkook's roommate."

"Roommate! Oh how wonderful," she claps her hands together like you've just announced you've won the lottery. "It's so nice to see Kooky making new friends. He was always so reserved with people he doesn't know well." 

She leans in close enough that you can smell her breath—minty with an undercurrent of expensive champagne. 

“Trust issues. We worked on it a lot during our time together."

She says it like they were in some kind of therapy program, not… dating. 

What the actual fuck?

"I've found him pretty straightforward," you say, stepping closer to Jungkook because something is clearly wrong here. 

He's still staring at the floor, still silent, still looking nothing like the annoying, confident asshole you live with.

"Oh, then he must really trust you," Mia says, eyes wide like you've shared some profound revelation. "That's so special. After everything he went through with his father, it's hard for him to let people in."

His father? Since when does Jungkook talk about his family? He's never mentioned a word about his father to you.

Jungkook's head snaps up at this, face gone pale. "Mia, don't—"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She covers her mouth with one hand, looking embarrassed. "Was that not something...? I just assumed since you're roommates..." She turns to you and shrugs apologetically. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. Please forget I said anything."

Right. 

Like you're going to forget she just dropped that little bomb. 

But now's not the time to dig into whatever daddy issues Jungkook's apparently hiding.

"It's fine," you say, because what else can you say?

"Anyway," she continues, her voice shifting back to that syrupy sweetness, "I was just telling Kooky we should get together sometime. Catch up properly." 

She squeezes Jungkook's arm. 

“I've missed our little movie nights. Nobody appreciates Park Chan-wook like you do."

Jungkook's still doing his best statue impression, eyes fixed somewhere near the exit sign like he's calculating how fast he can make a break for it.

"We were just getting ready to leave, actually," she says, gesturing down the hall. "I'm here with some friends from Parsons—we have a private room upstairs. You two should join us! We have so much champagne, it's ridiculous. My father just closed another deal in Singapore, so we're celebrating."

Of course her dad makes international business deals. Of course she has a private room upstairs. Of course she's casually drinking champagne while the rest of you slurp tequila from plastic cups.

"I don't think—" Jungkook starts, voice sounding rusty like he's forgotten how to use it.

"It would be so fun!" Mia insists, looking at you now with wide, earnest eyes. "Honestly, any friend of Kooky's is a friend of mine. I've been dying to get to know the people in his life now."

She's laying it on thick, like she's auditioning for the role of Supportive Ex-Girlfriend in some bad rom-com. It's almost impressive how sincere she sounds while being so obviously full of shit.

"We're actually here with a group," you say, firmer this time. "It's Jungkook's birthday."

"Your birthday!" she gasps, turning to Jungkook with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot! I used to be so good with dates."

She steps closer to him, practically pressing against his chest. 

"I should have gotten you something. Although I think my presence is gift enough, don't you? Just like old times." She laughs, light and tinkling. "Remember that birthday I planned for you last year? The surprise party at The Standard? Everyone said it was the best night of their lives."

You can practically see her subtext in neon letters above her head: ‘Whatever you losers planned tonight is nothing compared to what I did for him.’

"I don't think he wants to reminisce," you say, surprised by the edge in your own voice. "We should get back."

The bitch’s smile falters for just a second before snapping back into place. 

“Oh, I totally get it. You guys have plans. I would never want to intrude on your... celebration."

The way she says ‘celebration’ makes it sound like she's referring to a kindergarten birthday party with paper hats and apple juice.

"We should get your number though, Kooky," she continues, already pulling out her phone. "I changed mine recently. We really should catch up soon. I have so much to tell you."

Jungkook looks like he'd rather eat glass than take her number. His hands are actually shaking slightly—what the hell happened between these two?

"I don't think that's necessary," you say, and without really thinking about it, you link your arm through his. 

His skin is cold through his shirt sleeve.

This is the first time his skin’s ever been cold.

He’s usually always a walking furnace—a warm backdrop to your perpetually freezing body. 

“Why not? Can’t hurt.” She tilts her head, eyes crinkling in a tight smile.

“Might hurt.”

Mia's eyes flash to where you're touching him, her smile tightening just a fraction. 

"Oh, I see," she says, her voice still sweet but with something sharper underneath. "You two are..."

"Friends," you finish firmly. "Good friends."

"How sweet," she says. 

She reaches out and straightens Jungkook's collar in a way that feels weirdly intimate. 

“You always did need someone to look after you, didn't you, baby?"

She sighs, the sound somehow both theatrical and condescending. You feel Jungkook tense next to you. 

What the hell is she talking about?

"Save my number," she says, pressing a small business card—who even carries those anymore?—into his hand. "For when you realize what you're missing. You know where to find me when you want a real connection again."

She leans in and kisses his cheek, holding it a beat too long. 

“Happy birthday, Kooky. Try not to have too much fun without me."

She gives you a final look, equal parts pity and dismissal, before sauntering away down the hall, her heels clicking a perfect rhythm against the floor.

Jesus Christ. Is this real life? Did you just witness an actual soap opera villain in action? 

The whole thing feels surreal, like you accidentally walked onto a TV set during filming.

"You okay?" you ask Jungkook when she's gone, because what else can you say?

He's still staring after her, jaw tight. 

"Fine."

"Bullshit."

He glances at you, momentarily surprised by your bluntness. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

"I... I think I need some air."

"Yeah, of course." 

Not that you really have any other response ready. What are you supposed to say? ‘Sorry your ex is a walking red flag’? ‘Want to talk about whatever the fuck just happened?’ ‘By the way, what was that father line?’

"I'll be back in five," he says, already moving toward the exit sign at the end of the hall. "I just need a minute."

"Okay."

He pauses, glancing back. 

“Thanks."

Then he's gone, pushing through the exit door, leaving you standing in the hallway with the lingering scent of expensive perfume and a head full of questions.

What the hell was all that about? And why does he look like he's seen a ghost? And what did she mean about his father? 

You shake your head, trying to clear it. 

Not your business. Not your problem. You have your own shit to deal with without adding Jungkook's ex drama to the list.

But as you turn to head back to the karaoke room, you can't help glancing toward the exit where he disappeared. 

He really did look... small. Scared, almost. 

Nothing like the cocky asshole who drives you crazy on a daily basis.

It's disconcerting, seeing him like that. Like peeking behind a curtain you didn't know existed.

You're going to need another drink for this.

It's pathetic, really. 

Jungkook knows it. He acknowledges it fully, standing here on the rooftop of some overpriced karaoke joint in the heart of Manhattan, staring down at the tiny flask in his hand. 

Not whiskey, not vodka—no, nothing even remotely respectable. Just pure vanilla extract.

Fucking vanilla extract.

He twists off the cap, lifts it to his lips, and takes a small sip. It burns just enough going down to remind him he's alive, but it tastes good. 

Always good. 

Sweet enough to mask the bitterness that's permanently lodged at the back of his throat these days. 

It's not the watered-down shit they sell at grocery stores either—he learned that lesson quickly after one particularly desperate night ended with him gagging over his sink. 

No, this is the real deal, the expensive kind he has to order online from some bougie shop in France that probably laughs every time they ship another bottle to New York City.

His therapist side-eyed him when he first confessed this little habit—because who wouldn't? Who the fuck drinks baking ingredients to cope? 

But after a few awkward seconds of silence and scribbling notes on her pad (he hates when she does that), she'd shrugged and said it was better than alcohol or pills or whatever else he could be doing instead. 

So Jungkook took what he could get.

If vanilla extract keeps him from self-destructing completely, then that's what he'll stick to.

He leans against the rooftop railing, cold metal pressing into his forearms through his thin shirt. Below him, lights blur together into a neon haze—yellow taxis weaving through traffic like fireflies darting between trees. The city beneath him looks both indifferent and alive, while Jungkook feels like he's barely holding it together.

Happy fucking birthday to him.

Birthdays are supposed to mean something. Another year older, wiser, closer to figuring shit out—but Jungkook just feels stuck. 

Twenty-something years old and still sneaking away from his own birthday party because seeing Mia had knocked the air out of his lungs in a way that made him feel like a fucking teenager again.

Weak. 

Pathetic. 

Unable to even form a coherent sentence when she'd looked at him with those eyes—the ones that used to make him feel special until he realized they were just another weapon in her arsenal.

He takes another sip of vanilla extract, savoring the burn this time as it slides down his throat. It's stupidly comforting in a way he can't quite explain—not even to himself. 

Maybe it's nostalgia or some childhood memory he's buried deep down beneath layers of emotional baggage and trauma from Mia and everything else he's fucked up along the way. 

Or maybe it's just because it's something sweet and simple in a life that's become anything but.

He chuckles bitterly under his breath, shaking his head at himself.

"You're fucking ridiculous," he mutters into the night air.

But ridiculous or not—pathetic or not—it helps. 

And right now, that's all that matters.

Twenty minutes. That's how long he's been up here, hiding like a child. Twenty minutes of staring at the skyline and trying to get his shit together. Twenty minutes of letting Mia's voice echo in his head like a bad song he can't turn off.

He closes his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as cool September air fills his lungs. 

He can hear muffled laughter drifting up from downstairs—the karaoke room packed with film school friends who've probably noticed his absence by now—and for once tonight, Jungkook doesn't mind being forgotten for a little while longer.

He'll go back eventually; plaster on another easy smile like nothing happened because that's what he does best these days: pretend everything is fine until everyone else believes it.

And then—the icing on the cake. 

He mentally claps for himself at that one. Solid joke. A little on the nose, sure, but he'll take it. 

You're there.

He doesn't even need to look to know it's you. That faint trace of vanilla that isn't his flask. Not the sharp, concentrated kind that burns his throat and keeps him grounded. 

No, you smell like vanilla, but softer. Warmer. Like someone took the edge off and folded it into something human. 

There's something else underneath it too—milky, maybe? Creamy? He doesn't know how to describe it without sounding like a complete idiot, so he doesn't try.

It's funny, though. 

Hilarious, actually. 

Because in the four weeks he's known you, he knows you're anything but soft. 

You're mouthy as hell. 

Reckless in a way that makes him think you've got some kind of death wish or maybe just a really bad sense of self-preservation. 

You talk back every time he opens his mouth, like it's your personal mission to make sure he never gets the last word. 

He should find you annoying. 

Irritating enough to make him want to jump off this rooftop just to get away from you. 

And yeah, sometimes he does—like when you leave your tea bags in the sink instead of throwing them out like a normal person, or when you steal his hoodies and pretend they just ‘ended up’ in your laundry by accident (as if he doesn't know you're lying). 

But mostly? 

Mostly, you're just...there. 

A sudden disruption in his life when he was finally starting to feel okay again. Starting to enjoy the quiet. Heal, or whatever the fuck people call it when they're trying to piece themselves back together after everything's gone to shit.

And then you came along.

All talk back and adrenaline and thrill and sex.

Really good sex.

He shouldn't be thinking about that right now—not here, not with you standing behind him like some kind of ghost haunting his already-fucked-up night—but it's hard not to when everything about you feels like a challenge he can't help but rise to. 

The way you smell, the way you look at him like you're daring him to say something stupid just so you can tear him apart for it...it's infuriating. 

Addictive too.

He takes another sip from his flask because what else is he supposed to do? 

He can feel your eyes on him—sharp and curious, probably trying to figure out why he's up here alone with nothing but a tiny bottle of vanilla extract for company—and suddenly the burn in his throat isn't enough to distract him anymore.

"Didn't know karaoke had a rooftop package," you say eventually.

Jungkook snorts before he can stop himself, shaking his head as he screws the cap back onto his flask. 

"Yeah, well," he says, turning around just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. "Figured I'd splurge for my birthday."

Your eyebrows lift at that—just a little—but you don't say anything right away. 

"You know they've noticed you're not around, right?" you say after a moment, your tone careful. "People are asking."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

Of course they are. Because that's what happens when you disappear for twenty minutes in the middle of your own birthday party.

"You good?" you add, and there's something in your voice that makes him look at you directly. "Because we need you back there."

God, you're annoying. Always so direct, always cutting through his bullshit like it's tissue paper.

He should hate this—hate you—but somehow, Jungkook can't really bring himself to fully mean it.

"How'd you find me?" he asks instead of answering your question.

You shrug. "Just a hunch. Figured if I wanted to escape, I'd go up, not down."

He stares at the city below, the skyline stretching out like a postcard someone forgot to mail. The cars are specks from up here, tiny dots crawling along the veins of Manhattan. It's almost peaceful if he squints hard enough to ignore the noise humming faintly in the background—the kind that never really stops, even at this height.

For a moment, it's quiet. Just him, the skyline, and the faint burn of vanilla still lingering on his tongue.

Then he hears it: your footsteps. Soft, slow, like you're trying not to startle him but also don't care enough to stop yourself from intruding. 

Of course you're here.

You stop just short of the railing at first, hovering like you're testing the waters. 

Then, after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, you step closer and lean against it. Right next to him. Close enough that he can catch another whiff of that vanilla-milky-whatever-the-fuck scent that's been messing with his head all night.

He doesn't look at you. Doesn't have to. He knows exactly what you're doing—trying to see whatever it is he's staring at like it's some big mystery that needs solving.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth despite himself because yeah, this is so you. 

Meddling without actually meddling. Curious without outright saying it.

And he doesn't know how he knows that about you, but he does.

So when you finally break the silence with a casual, "What was that?"—your chin jutting toward his jacket pocket—he's not surprised. 

"Huh?" He plays dumb, glancing down at his pocket like he has no idea what you're talking about. "Nothing."

Your eyes narrow slightly, and he can feel your gaze boring into him even though he still refuses to meet it. 

“Nothing," you repeat flatly, like you don't believe him for a second. "Right."

"Yup." He pops the 'p' for emphasis and turns his attention back to the city below, hoping you'll drop it.

You don't.

"What kind of nothing are we talking about here?" Your tone is light, teasing—but there's an edge of curiosity there too. The kind that tells him you're not going to let this go anytime soon.

"It's just...nothing," he says again, more firmly this time but still avoiding your gaze.

"Uh-huh." You lean in slightly, tilting your head as if that'll give you a better angle on whatever he's hiding. "So nothing just happens to fit perfectly in your jacket pocket?"

He sighs, shaking his head slightly as a low chuckle escapes him despite himself. 

“You're relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you say easily, popping the 'p' right back at him. "So? What is it?"

He hesitates for a moment, debating whether or not to tell you the truth. 

It's stupid—embarrassing even—but something about the way you're looking at him makes it hard to keep deflecting.

Finally, with a resigned sigh and a slight smirk tugging at his lips, he pulls the flask out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see.

"It's vanilla extract," he says simply.

You blink at him, clearly not expecting that answer. 

“Vanilla extract," you repeat slowly, like you're waiting for him to say he's joking.

"Yup." 

He unscrews the cap and takes another small sip just to prove his point before screwing it back on and slipping it into his pocket again.

For once, you're speechless—and Jungkook can't help but feel a small sense of victory as he leans back against the railing with a smug grin on his face.

"Happy now?"

The silence stretches a beat too long after his admission. He licks vanilla residue off his bottom lip, the sweetness turning cloying under your stare.

"It's pathetic, I know."  

"I mean—it's weird," you say, shrugging. "But not pathetic-weird. Just… niche."  

He huffs, drumming his fingers against the railing. "Yeah, who the fuck drinks vanilla extract, huh? Couldn't stick to whiskey like a normal fuckup. Had to be quirky.”

The word drips with self-mockery.  

You lean back, arms crossed. "We all have our vices. At least you don't smell like an ashtray."  

"You'd kick my ass if I smoked in the apartment."  

"Damn right."  

The corner of his mouth twitches. Below, a siren wails—distant, unimportant. He watches you watch the city, the neon glow catching on your eyes.

"It's… comforting. Don't know why. Ethanol or whatever—therapist says it's placebo with benefits."  

"Placebo with benefits," you repeat, deadpan. "That your band name?"  

He snorts. "Nah. Ethanol Enthusiasts."  

"Catchy."  

Another pause. 

The wind tugs at his sleeves, carrying your scent again. 

Fuck.  

"What started it?" you ask, casual as someone asking about the weather.  

His thumb rubs the flask's engraving—a nervous tic he didn't know he had. 

“Didn't wanna become my old man. Found this… seemed safer." The admission tastes bitter. He backtracks with a shrug. "Therapist greenlit it. Win-win."  

You hum, noncommittal. 

“Explains why you're obsessed with vanilla lattes."  

"Am not—"  

"You are. You side-eye my tea like it's piss."  

"Because it is piss. Chamomile's for grandmas."  

"Says the guy sipping baking supplies."  

He barks a laugh, sharp and surprised. When he turns, you're smirking—that infuriating, I-win smirk that usually makes him want to rile you up. 

Now it just feels… warm.  

"You smell like vanilla," he says softly.  

Your smirk falters. "You've mentioned. Usually when you're—"  

"Not then." He cuts you off, voice lower. "All the time. Even when you're not… y'know."  

"Y'know?" You raise a brow.  

"Fuckin'—wearing shit. Perfume. Whatever." He gestures vaguely at you. "It's just… you."  

The words hang, raw and clumsy. 

You blink, that sharp mask slipping for a half-second. He watches your throat move as you swallow.  

"Huh," you say finally.  

"Huh," he mimics, too quick. Deflect. Always deflect. "Maybe you're part cookie. Secretly."  

You freeze. Just for a heartbeat. 

Then you smirk, but it doesn't reach your eyes. 

“Maybe I'm marinating."

"Maybe," he murmurs. 

Another siren. Another beep. Another car being way too loud in this fucking city.

"Or maybe you were made just for me."

It slips out. Too raw. Too honest.

Shit.  

Jungkook's throat tightens—what the fuck was that? 

He licks his lips, grip tightening on the railing as he scrambles to claw the moment back from the edge of whatever that just was.  

"I mean—" He forces a scoff, rolling his eyes like he's mocking himself. "—or you're just some undercover therapist plant. Be honest." 

He side-eyes you, smirk plastered on. 

“You know Dr. Liao, don't you? This is an intervention. 'Let's gaslight Jungkook into emotional vulnerability via mediocre sex and vanilla-scented body wash—'"  

You snort, cutting him off. "Mediocre?"  

"Painfully average."  

"Excuse you?" You open your mouth exaggeratedly, and he can't help but grin at the sheer offense in your expression. "Okay wow, we are never having sex again."

"Cap."

"Are you seriously using online slang in real life?"

"Yeah, because you're capping."

"I am not capping and stop doing that, it's so cringe."

"But you just said capping too?"

"I—that's because you said it first you moron!"

"And you said it second so who's the real moron here?"

"That's it, I'm never wearing vanilla perfume ever again."

He stops abruptly at that. Looks you in the eyes.

"Like you are right now?"

You open your mouth. Close it real fast. Press your lips together. 

"Maybe."

"No maybes. I can literally smell it from here."

He tilts his head slowly, letting you move back if that's what you want. 

But you don't.

And he takes that as an invitation, his nose hovering over the soft spot under your ear, where you always apply your cologne on.

"Right here." He mutters, voice velvety and rough. "Really makes me wanna fuck you."

You don't move your head, but your hands come to rest on his chest, and he likes that. 

Likes that, despite whatever semblance of control you're trying to channel, you're slipping out of balance. 

Like you need to hold on to something—on to him. 

"I could fuck you here, you know." He continues, pressing his lips against your skin as he angles your bodies just right—your back against the railing, both his arms caging you in. "Right against the railing. Give the locals a nice view."

"You're insane." You say, but it lacks conviction. He knows it does. "Nobody down there could see us from below, this is a skyscraper and we're on the rooftop."

He clicks his tongue, but can't quite hide his amusement. 

"Always ruining the fun. Is this your way of saying no?"

You lick your lips. Feel the goosebumps erupt as his lips trail down your neck.

"No."

"Hmm?" He plants another kiss. "So is it your way of saying yes?"

"No." 

You repeat; and this time he actually leans back a bit, trying to figure out what you're aiming for. 

"It's a ‘maybe when we get home’. We are not fucking in public, Ro, during your birthday, when all your friends are gonna be wondering where we both are."

His eyes don't stray away from yours. Then, he chuckles. 

He doesn't know why he chuckles. Doesn't understand what about your commentary he found funny. Perhaps it's your way of being sensitive even when he's goofing around but totally ready to fuck you for real if you so much as ask. 

But it feels familiar. 

Safe.  

No feelings, no depth—just the usual bullshit.

He likes it. Likes how your smirk looks softer now, under the moonlight, eyes crinkling at the corners, and fuck, he needs another sip of vanilla.  

But the flask stays buried in his pocket.  

And then you say, "c'mon, Rogue. Your fanclub's singing off-key Mariah Carey downstairs."  

And he can't help but reply with a "fuck, really?"  

"Taehyung's hitting whistle tones. It's apocalyptic."  

He groans, pushing off the railing. "Fine. But you're explaining why I'm not drunk."  

"Tell them you're a pastry chef now."  

"Fuck you."  

"When we get home—"

The rooftop door slams open with enough force to make both of you jump apart like startled cats. 

Taehyung stands in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wild as they scan the space before landing on Jungkook.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes, voice tight with something that sounds suspiciously like genuine panic. "You're up here? On a rooftop?"

Jungkook stiffens beside you, his casual posture vanishing in an instant. 

“Tae—"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" 

Taehyung cuts him off, storming across the rooftop with the intensity of a small hurricane. 

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Jungkook, who suddenly looks like he wants to melt into the concrete. 

"A rooftop? Really?"

You glance between them, completely lost.

 There's clearly something happening here that you're not privy to—some subtext that makes this more than just Taehyung being dramatic about Jungkook ditching his own party.

"It's fine," Jungkook says, his voice careful in a way you've never heard before. "I just needed some air."

"Air," Taehyung repeats, like the word tastes bitter. "Sure. Great. Because there's definitely not air anywhere else in this building." 

His hands are shaking, you notice. Actually trembling. 

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Tae," Jungkook steps forward, reaching for his friend's shoulder, "it's not like that. I swear. I'm okay."

Taehyung's eyes close briefly, his jaw working like he's grinding his teeth. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability there that makes you feel like you're intruding on something intensely private.

"You can't just—" he starts, then stops, inhaling sharply. "You can't disappear and then be on a fucking rooftop, man. Not after—"

He cuts himself off again, shooting another glance your way.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook says quietly, and there's so much weight in those two words that your own chest tightens in response. "I didn't think about it like that. I just needed to get away for a minute, and this was the first place I found."

"Because you needed to get away," Taehyung says flatly, and there's a question buried in there somewhere.

Jungkook hesitates, his eyes darting to you for just a fraction of a second. 

"Mia's downstairs. Or was. We ran into her in the hallway."

The change in Taehyung is immediate and alarming. His face drains of color, then flushes with anger so quickly it's like watching a stoplight change.

"Mia's here?" His voice drops to something dangerous and low. "That fucking—where is she? Did she say something to you? What did she do?"

"Nothing. She's gone," Jungkook says quickly, reaching out to grip Taehyung's arm like he's physically restraining him. "She was with some friends in another room. Just bumped into her on the way to the bathroom."

"And said what, exactly?" Taehyung demands, not even trying to hide his hostility now.

"Nothing important," Jungkook insists, though his tight expression suggests otherwise. "Just Mia being Mia. It's fine."

"It's clearly not fine if you're hiding on a rooftop," Taehyung snaps, then immediately looks like he regrets it. His shoulders slump slightly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I was just worried."

"I know," Jungkook says, and there's something so gentle in his tone that you feel like you're witnessing a side of him you've never seen before. "It's okay. I'm okay. Promise."

You shift awkwardly, suddenly very aware that you're intruding on something deeply personal. 

“I should, uh, maybe head back downstairs," you offer, already taking a step toward the door.

Two pairs of eyes snap to you, like they'd forgotten you were there. 

Jungkook looks caught between relief and something else—regret, maybe?—while Taehyung's expression is blank now.

"No, stay," Jungkook says quickly. 

Too quickly. 

Then, more casually: "I mean, we were about to head back anyway, right?"

"Right," you agree, though it feels like you're reading from a script you haven't seen before. "Mariah Carey and all that."

"God, they're still on that." Taehyung rolls his eyes, making a visible effort to shake off whatever just happened. "Hobi's been trying to hit the high note in 'Emotions' for like twenty minutes. It's a massacre."

"Can't be worse than your Eminem," you say, hoping to lighten the mood.

It works, sort of. Taehyung's mouth quirks up at one corner. 

"Excuse you, I killed that performance."

"Yeah, killed it dead," you agree. "Like, murder. Homicide. Call the rap police."

Jungkook snorts, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Rap police?"

"You know what I mean," you say, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's go save Mariah from Hobi before someone calls actual law enforcement."

As you all move toward the door, you notice Taehyung hanging back just enough to place a hand on Jungkook's shoulder, squeezing once—firm, grounding.

Jungkook nods, a tiny movement you almost miss, and something passes between them again—silent but significant.

But it's not your story to know. Not yet, anyway.

So you lead the way back inside, pretending you didn't notice the way Taehyung's hand shook as it fell back to his side, or the way Jungkook's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he followed you through the door.

Some things are better left unasked. At least for now.

goal: 600 notes (this chapter was posted after both goals were reached. unfortunately the previous chapter suffered mass unvoting on wattpad after i published the next chapter. please go vote on chapter 21 in WP to restore the original numbers and not mislead any new reader 🫶🏻.)

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⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw @mar-lo-pap @jeontae @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex @minniejim @btstrology @vialattea00 @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @mimi1097

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[aajjks]

Blow (m)

synopsis. suck the brat out of him on his birthday.

warnings: 18+ ëxplïcït thèmès. bràtty kóó, bïrthdày spècíàl, blôwjôb, orál sèx, (málè rècíèvíng), he móàns só múch!, prófàníty. súck hïs dïck súck hïs sôul, sóft yándèrè kóó.

note. happy birthday to you kook, every year I try to convince myself that I love you a normal amount but at the end of the day I am more in love w you each and every day, HAVE A GOOD DAY JK!!~ and come back soon. I can’t believe you’re 23 now 🥺🥺 time flies. ENJOY THIS FILTH GUYS! also…. my bday month started WOHOOOO!

Jungkook loves you.

Today is a special day for him, his birthday and you know it. But it’s 1 am right now yet he’s received no birthday wish from you.

He doesn’t know what you’re busy doing, but it hurts so bad that you didn’t even bother to wish him a happy birthday birthday. You’ve been dating for two years and this is the first time you have forgotten to wish him a happy birthday.

He doesn’t know what to think because he’s so sensitive when it comes to you. He’s sulking in his bed right now.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing in the kitchen, but maybe he should just go to sleep because you don’t even remember his birthday and even if you do, you didn’t even bother to wish him a happy birthday

Jungkook feels so abandoned right now

He shouldn’t feel this way because it’s not really a big deal but at the same time it is to him because your attention means everything to him and he’s so used to being the center of your attention

And he wants your attention on him, especially on his birthday

“Ughhh yn!!!” He groans before sulking down on the bed and he covers his body with the blanket so you don’t see him crying when you come back into the bed

Not even a happy birthday from you.. it’s 1 AM how is he supposed to get over this?

“You’re sleeping?” There comes your voice, and he is a startled, but only for a moment before he groans in response.

Why do you care?

“obviously I’m sleeping because you don’t even care about what date it is now.”

 Your boyfriend can be really petty. And he doesn’t care.

It’s September 1st this day should be the most important to you.

He hears your laugh, “woah! YOU’RE LAUGHING, HUH?” He exclaims, immediately peeking his head from the blanket and he’s glaring at you

“I never forget your birthday. I do so much for your birthday, but you don’t even care!” Hey sees you approach him on the bed, but he’s just so busy ranting

He doesn’t care when you sit right in front of him on the bed. “Ouch! You’re sitting on my legs.” He rolls his eyes, huffing.

He may be a diva.. but it’s all because of you

why aren’t you acknowledging the birthday boy?

“Ugh yn you frustrate me to no end oh my God—;” he is suddenly cut off when you press your lips against his.

Jungkooks eyes widen in surprise for a moment but then he feels himself melt into the kiss, your lips feel so soft against his, his anger is melting away just like him.

Jungkook enjoys kissing you very much, it’s so intimate, so sweet, so important for him, your lips move in a swift passionate manner against his and he loves the way your hands are cradling his face right now.

“mhm..” he cannot help but moan into your mouth as you tease his lower lip with your tongue. “Happy birthday baby.” You break the kiss, leaving him all breathless and dazed as you whisper so softly.

Jungkook feels his heart rate quicken. You wished him happy birthday finally and there’s a predatory look in your eye that he recognizes quite too well.

“Now… if you must know.. I was busy because I was baking your cake.” You inform him and he’s surprised. Jungkooks eyes go round, and the realization dawns on him.

That is so sweet.

“B-Baby? Really so you remembered?!!”

“Yes! How could I ever forget your birthday and the second thing is I couldn’t really leave the kitchen that’s why I got a little late with wishing you a happy birthday baby. I am so sorry…” you look down in guilt.

But jungkooks heart softens up.

“‘S okay yn.. you gave me such a good kiss and told me the reason behind your delay, which is so cute by the way, so consider yourself forgiven.”

But you shake your head and before he knows it you’re pushing him against the bed. “W-Woah—;”

“Baby I have to make it up to you and that’s what I’m doing so shut your mouth.” You shut him up.

His eyes are even wider now, his heartbeat more quicker.

He doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t know what you’re up to.

Jungkook exclaims as he watches you take his pyjama off, “woah yn…” but you just don’t respond, he feels your hand on the hem of his underwear and he doesn’t stop you as you push it down to his knees.

His hard length is now right now infront of your eyes, your hungry eyes, he’s so hard right now.

You don’t waste any time to take him into your hand as you begin to stroke him, he groans, Finally understanding what you’re trying to do

And it is getting him excited

“O-Oh ynnnn.” He moans out your name as you work your magic before you lean downwards and suddenly spit on it, before taking him straight into your pretty mouth.

Your wet, tight eager mouth.

The sensation is too much, his back arches on the bed, as you take him in deeper, you’re sitting right between his legs now.

This is so fucking hot.

And your eyes? They’ll make him cum right now. Your eyes are wild and animalistic.

He loves the lust that is dripping from them.

You hollow your cheeks and lick his sensitive dick, any part you can, he mewls, his eyebrows furrowing.

“nghh ahh mhm.”

Your boyfriend’s moans are always so pretty, just like him. Your panties are so soaked, you cannot help but rub your legs together to get some kind of friction.

It’s his day, you’ll focus on his pleasure all night and day long.

“C-Cum for me koo..” you instruct, sucking him off. Your throat feels sore, but it’s so worth it.

The way he’s fucking it so desperately, sloppily has your pussy clenching. You need him so badly but, tonight.. you’re going to be selfless..

And give him everything that you can physically emotionally and mentally.

Because he’s the love of your life and today is the day that he was born and you were going to celebrate it with him, in more ways than one.

Jungkook loves the fact that you’re choking, gadding and crying. He fucking loves it. But yeah, you’re still being so gentle with him and so patient.

This is why he loves you so much.

You’ve made this night so special

he looks into your eyes once more and he’s cumming hard, a cry of pleasure leaves as he eagerly empties himself in your mouth.

His eyes are now closed, his lip almost bleeding from his hard he is biting it, drool on the corners of his mouth as he huffs.

You swallow, finally letting him go as you try your best to breathe at the same time. He’s fallen back on the bed, completely spent.

He’s actually high on pleasure right now.

“F-Fuck…” he curses, barely conscious

“Happy birthday koo, I love you so much, baby.. but don’t fall asleep I made cake, come.”

You wipe your mouth, swallowing his taste, you’re not really gonna have cake because you’re more than full right now

But you bet he’s hungry

And the truth is, he’s starving

But for something else entirely

[comfortkoo]

the night before wedding

Your boyfriend fucks someone at his bachelor party

The club was dim, loud, full of smoke and sweat and flashing lights. Bodies grinding on bodies. Laughter spilling from the lips of men who forgot the word loyalty the second the music kicked in.

It was Jungkook’s bachelor party. His last night as an unmarried man. He sat in a VIP booth with his friends—Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok—all drunk, all laughing. Champagne bottles popped. The music pulsed in his veins. It should’ve been harmless fun. Harmless drinking. Harmless memories. But then she walked in. Long legs. Tight dress. Eyes like sin.

She wasn’t a stripper. Just someone invited by someone else no name, no ties, no morals. She knew exactly what kind of night it was, and she knew exactly who Jungkook was.

He met her gaze once. Then again. And again. Jimin leaned in, slurring a warning. “Don’t be stupid, bro. You got Y/N waiting at home.”

Jungkook just smiled, eyes never leaving hers. when the party thinned and the music dulled into a low throb, he found her near the back, sitting alone, legs crossed like an invitation.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low, unreadable. She didn’t need to be asked twice.

They found a private room. Velvet curtains. A locked door. No questions. No hesitation. She kissed him first. Hard. Like she owned him. And he let her. His hands were on her hips. Her dress slid up. His lips were everywhere. Breaths shallow. Moans echoing off the walls.

He wasn’t drunk. Not enough to forget what he was doing. Not enough to forget you. But he didn’t stop. He took her fast, rough, against the wall like he had something to prove. And in that moment, you didn’t exist. Not your smile. Not your promises. Not your wedding dress hanging in the closet at home.

The room was thick with the heat of their bodies, the air heavy with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Jungkook’s mind was fogged, but he wasn’t out of control. No, this was something else. Something darker. Something he wanted, even if he hated himself for it later.

She was on top now, riding him with a confidence that only fueled his growing hunger. She moved with practiced grace, eyes locked with his as she leaned forward, pressing herself closer to him.

“You’re so good,” he murmured, his voice rough. “So fucking good.” She smiled, the kind of smile that showed no hint of innocence only power. Her hands moved to his chest, nails scratching lightly over his skin, as she picked up the pace, her breath shallow, her voice strained with each movement.

“Do you like that, Jungkook?” she teased, her lips brushing against his ear. “Am I everything you wanted tonight?”

He gripped her hips harder, his own body responding against his will. “Yeah… you’re perfect.” His voice was raw, the words coming out as if he couldn’t stop them, as if he didn’t want to. “You’re exactly what I need.”

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything beyond the adrenaline. The thrill. The temporary escape from everything that was waiting for him outside this room. But with every word he said, with every touch, it was like he was burying a piece of his soul deeper into the dirt, willingly losing himself to this one night.

She moved faster, her body slick against his, her breath coming in short gasps, and the only sound in the room was the rhythm of their bodies, the slap of skin on skin.

Jungkook’s hands gripped her harder, pulling her closer as he kissed her deeply, his tongue claiming hers with a fervor he hadn’t known he was capable of. She moaned into the kiss, and he praised her again.

“Fuck, you feel so good… so fucking perfect,” he groaned, his body tense, his mind spiraling, but his actions telling a different story.

It was almost like he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He just wanted to feel something—anything—that wasn’t guilt. That wasn’t the weight of the commitment waiting for him at the end of this night.

He felt her tense as she neared her release, and the sound of her gasps and moans only pushed him further. Her name escaped his lips as he came undone beneath her, his body shuddering with a pleasure that felt wrong in every way.

As they both collapsed, panting, he ran a hand through his hair, eyes closing as if trying to block out the truth. He knew what he had done. He knew it would haunt him. But in that moment, all he could feel was the hollow satisfaction of a desire fulfilled.

She smiled again, resting her head on his chest, but Jungkook didn’t look at her. His thoughts, dark and clouded, were already turning toward you.

What would you say if you knew? What would you do? He had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

-

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Peaches & Cream | Masterlist

➪ Pairing: jungkook x female reader

➪ Synopsis: You're his Peaches and he is your Pretty boy. It's all very simple until the fear of commitment kicks in. How does one maintain a safe distance when it's Jungkook? The gestures might be sweet and naive but the heat between us is almost suffocating.

➪ Genre: college love, strangers to friends to lovers, undefined relationship, commitment issues, fear of abandonment, angst, slow burn, plot twist

➪ W/c: 31.5k

➪ Playlist (Spotify) *Note: There are 17 songs, one for each chapter

➪ Sequel: Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye

Chapter 1: The Night Before I Met You - 1.9k

Chapter 2: Hey Flip Flops - 1.4k

Chapter 3: Nursing Buddies - 1.4k

Chapter 4: Let Me Make It Up To You - 1.5k

Chapter 5: Fever - 1.4k

Chapter 6: You Can Be My Baby For Tonight - 1.6k

Chapter 7: Clinging Onto Me - 1.6k

Chapter 8: Safe Escape - 1.6k

Chapter 9: Almost Had You - 1.6k

Chapter 10: Scavenger Hunt - 2.3k

Chapter 11: Tell Me To Stop - 2k

Chapter 12: Purple Marks - 1.7k

Chapter 13: Company - 1.5k

Chapter 14: Mental Picture - 1.8k

Chapter 15: You Don't Want Me? - 2.6k

Chapter 16: Peaches and Cream - 2.7k

Chapter 17: Ruin Our Friendship - 2.9k

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty five | ot7

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.2k

WARNINGS AND TAGS none

AN hi, thank you to each of you who's been reading and leaving comments. each comment that comes thru is equivalent to two to three cups of caffeine when it comes to writing these chapters. essential, and so deeply appreciated! and thank you to @thatlongspringnight for her help with this one. love you all so much.

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: OUT THE WINDOW

“But what is it?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing. 

You think back to all of those times you shuffled off pointed questions from your friends with a joke, every moment you skirted conversations with a change of subject, every time you simply walked away. You think of Jungkook, with you in the kitchen all those weeks back, who had whispered in your ear, “Don’t run.” You think of how those words me your ears like ice, how they had frozen something inside of you. 

For so long it has felt like you have existed in the void between two selves—maybe even more than two. 

There is the careful portrait you allow everyone else to see; the self that appears polished and in control. Even the chill, cool-girl facade comes from a kind of careful grooming, a filtering of all of the filtering, messy, confusing bits of you. 

And then there is the beast that lives inside you. The creature that croons the names of your seven friends, again and again, in your dreams and in the quiet moments of your waking life. This creature that wants and wants and goes on wanting. The creature that—if you give her what she truly wanted, would turn wild and rip through your carefully built life, destroying everything in her wake. You had worked so hard to build this shelter, this sanctuary of friendship and you believe, with your entire self, that giving this beast what she truly wants will shatter it all. 

You wish things were simple and straightforward for you—like Yoongi or Jungkook, two men who chase what they want, who hold immeasurable depths but surface quickly and with honesty. You wish you could have waltzed into this life with ease, but that was never the case.

As you sit with Jimin in the bathtub, you picture the beast, laying in the center of a forest clearing of sorts. She sleeps, her chest slowly expanding and falling in a gentle rhythm. A flurry of snowflakes falls thickly around her, like static, keeping things quiet, keeping things still. 

You wonder if you stand still long enough, if the snow will cover her entirely. If she will disappear beneath a blanket of snowdrift if you leave her undisturbed for long enough. 

And you know that to answer Jimin’s question is to wake this beast. 

So when he says, “But what is it?” with the floral aroma drifting up with the steam from the bath, you say, “I don’t know.” 

And Jimin says nothing. He does that thing again, where he just holds your stare. There is no coldness in his gaze, in fact, there’s something soft, like sympathy or understanding lighting the back of his eyes. And there is firmness in that warmth. That is what terrifies you.

He waits. 

And finally, after what feels like minutes, you whisper, “It feels like a monster.”

He tilts his head just a little. You have the eeriest sensation that he can see right through you, into the snowy clearing with the beast, where the flurries are falling even faster now. “Why is she there?” he says, finally.

“What?” your voice shakes. 

“Why is she there?” he repeats, as if your question has expressed that you haven’t heard him, not that you don’t understand. “Where did this monster come from?” 

The snow is falling faster. It’s harder and harder to see straight. The ache in your chest is beginning to burn. 

“I—I—” How do you know why a beast is a beast? How do you know what makes a monster? How do you trace something sick back to its root? You want to dunk underneath the water—you want to drown out the pressing tone of his voice—but for a moment your stubbornness wins. You stare back at him. 

His eyes are soft. 

You know your eyes are cold. 

“Do you want it?” Jimin asks quietly. “Do you want to keep running?” 

It’s like he can feel your muscles tensing, ready to stand up out of the tub, drip your way angrily and resentfully across the tile and through the rest of the house until you’ve put a league of distance between you and this question. 

And him. 

But before you can, he reaches out to you and grasps your hand. You flinch when he makes contact. He wraps your hand in his. 

The snow stops. The flurries freeze in mid-air. Your breath halts in your lungs. The beast in the clearing is stirring, stretching her sleeping limbs, a little sound escaping through sharp teeth. 

And then—finally—you say something true: “No,” you say. “I don’t want to keep running.” 

The words echo too loud through the bathroom, and the clearing, and the whole house. 

The beast opens her eyes. 

Your chest feels like it’s going to break open. 

Jimin leans towards you, pulling you between his legs and into his arms. You are stiff against his movements, but he folds your bodies into one another, his legs and arms wrapping around you. His breath, slow and steady, brushes against your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrap your arms around your chest. How can he breathe so easily when something is about to break inside your chest? 

“What are you so afraid will happen if you let yourself feel?” Jimin whispers. The question takes up all the air left in the bathroom. It echoes around like a ghost, like something you’ve heard before. Like a voice spoken from the cold of the mountains just beyond the room that you sit in, a haunting from a far-off winter. 

Instead of responding, you choke out a rattled breath. 

He pulls back his face far enough to get a good look at you. It feels like he’s looking right into you, right through you. Like with that heavy gaze he sees every little bit of you. But he’s not turning away from you, or what he sees in you. He’s not running from you. 

How come? 

Your mouth gapes open and closed like a fish. You are looking for words. You are looking for air.

Jimin repeats the question, slowly, holding your gaze. “What are you so afraid will happen if you let yourself feel?” 

Within you, the beast, stands. Stretches. She is ready. 

But you aren’t. 

You can’t—

You start to pull away from Jimin. You make to stand up from the tub, but Jimin holds you firm. 

“Don’t,” he says, and your rebuttal rises within you. But he surprises you. “I’ll go,” he says. “You stay.” 

You’re not sure if that’s disappointment flickering in his eye, but there’s also clarity there. He sees what you can’t—and that terrifies you. 

Jimin leaves you silently. You remain in the tub. The bathroom suddenly seems gigantic. 

You press yourself back against where the tub meets the wall, the chill of the tile a stark, cold contrast to the warm water, and wrap your arms around yourself. It’s not the same as Jimin wrapped around you, but it’s quiet. The scent of rose drifts up from the water, reminding you of summer, which has entirely disappeared from the air in the last weeks. 

Maybe it’s too quiet. 

Plink. A drop of water falls from the faucet, hitting the water. 

You stare at your hands through the water. They are wrinkled and pruney, and shift lighter beneath the water. These hands which have brought you all this way. These hands that have held each of the men in the house. 

It was a gift Jimin gave you, you realize. He gave you the choice to have space and silence without making you run away from him to access it. A hollow opens in your stomach as you look at the contents of the day. The sweetness of your moments with Jimin, juxtaposed with the seeping coldness that spills out from you now. 

You see it clearly now. 

Jimin’s absence—the too-large space remaining in the tub—the loud silence of the bathroom—the empty air—is a new kind of separation. 

And your stomach begins to sink anew. 

You find yourself standing up out of the bath. Towel-less and clumsily, you knock your shin against the tub as you clamber out. You drip water and rose-scented soap onto the bathroom floor. 

“Jimin?” you call as you open the door. But the bedroom is empty and dark. 

He has laid out a towel and set of clothes for you, both folded neatly on the bed. The bed has been made, the curtains opened. There is a new freshness to the room. But he’s not here. 

You try to dress quickly, attempting to pull a t-shirt over your head. But you fail. The water has the fabric clinging clumsily to your skin.

When you leave the bedroom, you force yourself to walk: you fight the urge to run through the halls, calling Jimin’s name. 

—----

He’s nowhere to be found. And when you can’t find him, and begin to think maybe he doesn’t want to be found��at least by you—you give up. Maybe too quickly. 

You make your way back to the living room after combing through the house. The place feels mysteriously empty; you hadn’t run into a single friend or fuck-buddy in your wanderings. 

Your chest still feels unsettled and restless, and you think of that one overused quote you see all over Pinterest and Instagram: The mountains are calling and I must go. You think, in that moment, that you understand anew what John-whatever-the-fuck meant in that long-ago letter: when everything inside you feels without a home, there is direction in the mountains. They simply cannot be ignored. As the sun sets over those broad peaks, the rivets and valleys of the great range before you call in a way that feels all too physical. It’s magnetism, this place, this land that calls your name.

And yet—

You have wet hair. 

And you cannot help the sinking feeling that this place does not want you. 

As much as this place has trapped you here. 

Stuck between the conundrum of wet hair in the cold autumn wind and the burning sensation in your chest that cries for cool air, you compromise: you beeline for one of the large windows overlooking the firepit, and throw it open.

Hands gripping the sill, you lean out, testing your balance. Your wet hair is plastered to your scalp and face in, what you can only imagine, is an unsightly manner, and your t-shirt clings in odd damp spots to your warm skin. You’re sure you look like you’ve just been through half of a laundry cycle, but you don’t care. 

The bathroom was too quiet. But here, the wind howls and howls until you can no longer hear the call of the beast. 

You try to remember all the things you’ve learned along the way, you try to cobble together the pieces of what you know now. 

Inside you, your chest swims with muddiness. A swirl of snow, leaves, detritus. It seems as if the beast has left you entirely. Everything you said to Jimin, that too, lies before you. 

What have I done?

You cannot help but think of Jimin’s face, open and afraid, as he had told you about what he feared most all these months. The fear that he had shown to you—trusted you with—and that you had chosen to slam back in his face with the brutal clang of a great thing breaking. Something once carefully built up, now crashing down. 

All those months ago, on the floor of your bedroom while you talked with Taehyung, you thought you had made a change. In that moment, you believed you had taken a critical turn on the long path of isolation that you had created for yourself. But as you look at the wreckage behind you—in the direction of Jimin’s room—you realize you had never really stopped running. At least, not in the way that you needed to. Not in the way that loving—op, living with—these men required you to.

You are surprised when a spot of rain slips down your cheek. You lift your finger to touch it, finding the trail from your eye to the drop—are you crying? As the tears slip silent down your face, you realize. 

I am unhappy.

You squeeze your eyes shut. 

You suck the alpine air into your lungs. In. Out. The burn of the cold is the antidote—chilling your mind, slowly, slowly, stilling the storm. Or, stuffing the beast back into sleep.

You jolt as a body wraps around your back, a head notching on your shoulder. Breath brushes your tender neck, and hands run down your bare arms. 

“Christ, you’re freezing,” Yoongi says. 

“It feels good,” you say, automatically. Your system shudders with shock as a memory from long ago rises to the surface. A balcony. Yoongi wrapped around you. A secret lingering on your tongue. A hidden relationship. How is it that so much time has passed—how is it that everything has changed—and yet you still feel just like you did that January night almost a year ago? 

“Why are you always chasing the cold?” Yoongi asks. 

“Why is everyone always asking me so many questions?” It comes out harsher than you meant. You cobble yourself together, and think this is a question you think you can answer. You soften your tone: “The cold lets me feel.” 

Yoongi nods against your shoulder like he understands immediately. “I don’t have to ask any more questions,” he says, a note of disappointment in his tone. 

You feel him begin to pull away from the one sided embrace, so you wrap your arms around his that snakes to your front and cradle it—and him—against you. You don’t want him to go. He tenses, as if surprised, then relaxes and wraps himself further around you. You still haven’t opened your eyes. You fear, if you do, everything will shatter. “I won’t ask what’s going on,” Yoongi says. “But can I assume—if it’s alright with you—that you’re less than okay right now?” 

You find yourself nodding, praying that he hasn’t seen the quiet tears on your cheeks. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’m here. I’ll stay here.” 

You nod again. Yes. Yes, please stay. You feel like a hypocrite, subtly asking Jimin for space, and then falling into Yoongi’s arms. The difference is, Yoongi has seen you like this before: raw, open, yearning. You’ve never shown this side to Jimin before. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice thick. “I just don’t have words for it.” 

“And that’s okay too.”

So, he just holds you, his arms wrapping even tighter around your belly, pulling you in closer to him. You find your head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. He places a chaste kiss in the hollow of your throat—and you know, suddenly, that he means the gesture as reassurance, he means it as a response to all the words that you cannot say. 

At your front, the mountain howls. 

At your back, Yoongi stands firm and steadfast, the heat of his body bringing yours back into balance. Your breath calms. The tears dry. You are breathing together. In. Out. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to Yoongi, finally, finally opening your eyes to the night before you. But when you do, you’re surprised by what you see. 

At the fire pit just beyond the house, two figures huddle around a blazing fire, figures darkened in contrast with the flickering red flame. After a moment, you realize it’s Hoseok and Taehyung. They’re talking, but you can’t hear them no matter how you strain. In a flash, you feel suddenly nervous. What could they be talking about? 

—------

Tonight, with the brisk wind that rushes down the mountain side, it seems as if the stars are huddled closer to earth than ever before. Hoseok thinks they shine a little brighter tonight, like they are leaning in to hear what he has to say. 

Taehyung and Hoseok sit close together on one of the benches that surrounds the fire pit. The rest of their friends—Jungkook, Namjoon, and Yoongi—had abandoned them a few minutes before for bed, refreshed drinks, or the more reliable warmth of the house. Silence had settled over the pair as they gazed out over the scenic view, the sun only just disappearing entirely from the sky. For Taehyung, it was a comfortable silence. 

For Hoseok, his words mulled and churned as he searched for the right iteration, the right pattern. And then it had all come out like a flood, a bursted dam: a rushed question that only Taehyung could answer. 

“I dunno dude.” Taehyung rubs the back of his neck in response. “I didn’t realize you were that down bad after—” 

“It’s not bad, is it?” He answers the question for himself: “It’s bad. I know it’s bad. It looks bad, right?” 

“Nah,” Taehyung chuckles and grips the arm of his friend squeezing him in reassurance. “Nah, it happens to the best of us.” 

“It does?” Hoseok asks. Taehyung nods vigorously. But before he can respond, Hoseok continues: “You’re sure I’m not asking the wrong person about this?” 

“I mean, to be totally honest, it is a little weird but—” Taehyung sighs. “I want you to be able to talk to me about these things. You’re my friend. It’s important for you to talk about them. Actually—it’s important for all of us.” 

Hoseok nods solemnly, wringing his cold hands before speaking. “I just don’t know what to do,” he says. “I want to show her that I can be the kind of man that she wants.” 

His friend gives him a long, appraising look and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I get it. I remember that—wanting the same thing—like it was yesterday. She deserves the world.” 

“Do you…still feel that way?” Hoseok asks slowly. 

“Are you asking, do I still feel the same way I felt when we were nineteen?” Hoseok nods. “Hell no.” 

But Taehyung glances to the ground. Fiddles with his fingers. Hoseok tries to read whatever’s going on in his friend’s head—but before he can understand what Taehyung is thinking, his friend speaks abruptly: “You know, she’ll want space to grow. Smothering her is only going to make her freeze up. But man, I don’t think you have all that much to worry about. I see the way you look at each other. 

Hoseok’s brow presses in confusion or interest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Taehyung chuckles and lightly slaps his friend on the shoulder. “My friend, you’re worried about something you have no need to worry about. You’re already five steps ahead in this game.” 

“What game?” 

“The game of loooove.” This, Taehyung says with a childish tone and a handsome smirk. 

Hoseok looks shocked. “I—I didn’t—We didn’t—But—” He collects himself. “We agreed as a house that this is all only sex. Anyways, I said nothing about love.”

“You didn’t have to.” 

“Do you really think…?” Hoseok asks, his eyes wide with hope. 

Taehyung shrugs, then picks up a stick to poke at the fire with. “I dunno. I can’t promise you the future—no one can. But I see something… I see things starting.” 

Hoseok nods as if he understands the vague statements of his friend. When he stands to walk away, he walks with the particular stride of someone who finally sees the light through the end of a hedge maze. 

—-------

You watch as Hoseok strides inside while Yoongi is still wrapped around your back, speaking softly in that deep lilt of his about his day. 

While you hadn’t heard what the two men discussed, you did feel a strange sense of watching something you weren’t supposed to be seeing. 

Yoongi’s warmth has brought you back to earth. When his breath brushes just-so against your neck, you find yourself shivering in his grasp. 

“Are you finally getting cold?” he asks. You hear the smirk in his voice—and the tender care too. 

“Maybe,” you say. “Yes,” you correct as a deeper chill settles within you. “Warm me up?” you ask softly. 

He leads you back into the living room, where he wraps a blanket around you and settles with you on the large couch. 

“Come here,” you insist. “I need your body heat. All of it.” Never quite the one to indulge in—or, better said, initiate—cuddling, Yoongi hesitates like he’s calculating where to fit his limbs. Then, he settles with a jolty, awkward collaboration of limbs into a spooning position with you tucked into him. 

It’s there, wrapped up in his arms while he tells you about the song you’re working on, that you slowly start to drift towards a deep sleep. 

—

As Hoseok strides back into the house, he wears a smug smile on his face. He’s a man on a mission, a guy with gusto, a dude with direction. He’s chosen his path—he’s walking it now. 

As he swings open the back door to a dark hallway in one of the lower levels, he notices a figure, lingering against the wall. The hallway is dark. He can’t make out the figure’s face. 

“Oh—hey,” he says anyways, making himself smaller to scootch right on past. 

But the man steps into the center of the hallway, effectively blocking Hoseok’s path. “I was looking for you,” the figure says. “But I didn’t want to interrupt. It looked like whatever you were talking about seemed quite important. I haven’t seen Taehyung that serious in a minute.” 

Hoseok shifts back and forth. “I guess you could say it was.” Then he shakes his head, as if to clear it. “But to be clear, I wasn’t making a move on Taehyung—nothing like that—I promise—” 

The man steps closer, and Jin’s handsome face comes into the dim light of the singular bulb that burns outside. 

“I wouldn’t mind it if you were.” Hoseok’s mouth flops open and then shuts again. Jin takes another step closer, tipping Hoseok’s chin shut. “Though maybe I’d like you to tell me if you were, first—just to know what’s going on between the people in my life. But why are you suddenly so nervous, Hoseok? Have you done something you’re not supposed to be doing?” 

Hoseok flounders for an answer. “I—no, I mean, I don’t think so. I mean, maybe we aren’t supposed to be doing things like this or—” He shuts himself up. “No, no I don’t think there’s anything wrong.” 

Jin tilts his head, scanning Hoseok’s flustered gaze. 

“Then why do you seem so nervous?” He takes another step towards Hoseok and suddenly Hoseok’s back is up against the wall and Jin is impossibly towering over him. “Do I make you nervous, Hoseok?” 

“You keep saying my name like that—” 

“Like what?” Jin’s thumb traces Hoseok’s chin, then wanders upwards, tracing around the bottom of his lip. Hoseok swallows loudly. “Like I want you?” 

“Do you want me?” Hoseok asks. “Really?” 

“I do.” It’s such a simple phrase and it makes Hoseok’s mind go empty. Jin places a kiss right below the younger man’s ear, his plus lips warming the tenderness there. “And if you don’t want me—tell me to stop.” 

Hoseok says nothing, but his hands come up to grip Jin’s shirt, implicitly pulling him closer. 

“What about Taehyung?” 

“What about him?” 

“Won’t he be upset?” 

Jin pulls himself up from where he had begun kissing down Hoseok’s throat, leveling his gaze. “Why? Do you plan to take me from him?”

“Not him—”

“Then tell me to stop or kiss me, goddamnit.” The decision is as simple as Hoseok tipping his chin towards his friend. And as Jin’s lips descend on Hoseok’s, the younger man nearly smiles. 

—-

Yoongi watches carefully as you drift towards sleep. He chooses his words carefully, too, to be simple and mundane enough to soothe the storm he sees warring within you. 

You mumble mmms and oh?s as he tells you about the way the music moves in his mind—how sometimes it is like water flooding him through and through—and how other times it is also like water, but only arrives in a trickle. 

He knows you’re only catching a few of his words, but he likes how they fill the dark, large room. He sees more of himself in speaking it all aloud in this way.

When he tells you about his most recent song, you too feel the water in him lift up and sing. It is simple, passion. And you can do nothing but lift your lips to his and kiss him, softly, like finding your way in the dark. 

He hesitates in surprise, and then leans in. 

Your mouths move gently with one another like curiosity, or learning someone’s body anew, and you find your breath filling your entire chest. Your arms wrap around him. You find that in you, too, everything has turned to water. You find that you can give Yoongi this—messy, tender, uncertain. You find that you are giving him exactly what Jimin asked you for, and a door in your chest creaks open with a painful creak. 

Light shines in through the crack. 

When the kiss is done, which—as many kisses do—arrives softly and sweetly and with finality, you tuck your head into his shoulder. Together, you breathe without saying anything. 

“I need to find Jimin,” you murmur as sleep comes over you. 

“Soon,” Yoongi says. 

As you cross that final barrier into sleep, Yoongi kisses the tear that slips across your cheek—the one you thought you could hide from him. 

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[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

• Chapter 42

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: Very slight mentions of self worth

Words: 3309

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashionstyle-blog @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragonsflare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae @plexcaffeinate @strawblueberrys @massivelyfullenthusiast @iimichie @bts-0t-7 @hannahdinse8 @hannahdinse8

Previous:

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

You nodded a little unsurely, avoiding the man's gaze as he watched you oh so fondly. Somehow, even after all of the appreciative words and comforting times, you had yet to see whatever they saw—you were just so ordinary.

Of course, you knew how to paint and draw and had a deeply embedded talent filling your soul. Whenever your old pack would go out of their way to remind you that you as an omega had first of all no right to, and second of all no use to studying, especially not in an university, your crying sessions which ended with you sniffling yourself to sleep, had you endlessly reminding yourself of what you truly believed - should one skin you of your soft body, tissue, bones and all, and your soul was to be left exposed, it would cry in need and want to create.

But never did it in your mind shimmer. Never did it glimmer like a starry night, never did it exceed any of those surrounding you.

Yes, you felt a connection to art of all kinds, one that was difficult to explain to anyone lacking it, but that was about all that was interesting about you. And so you couldn't help but wonder, what was it that the pack saw in you? What made them want to keep you around, help you heal, nourish, and protect that fragile body left to perish oh so long ago?

You sighed softly, wanting to forget this inner monologue and focus on what was around—looking up, you noticed the once brightly smiling alpha just before you, his chin jutted out against his winter jacket collar, his gaze kind and unwavering.

„Princess?”

He called softly, the man's hand reaching out to caress your arm. You could feel the warmth even under all the layers the pack claimed you needed to wear so you wouldn't get cold in the environment.

You remembered the light scolding of one of the alphas in the morning, going along the lines of,: Bub, the resort will surely be windy and cold; you should wear this as well, please, sunshine... Yes, of course we will keep her warm Kook, but that's besides the point! Please, Sunnybub, just wear the other shirt too, hm? Should Alpha scent it for you? Would that feel better?

You smiled softly at the memory, leaning in closer to the gentle man before you. Letting your arms wrap around his clothed torso, you allowed your weight to lean onto him, having Jimin gasp in surprise, quickly catching you while he stumbled back.

„Wait—sweetheart—!” he yelped as he tried to regain his balance on the slippery slope. Before either of you could fall, the alpha felt a hand on his back as he finally stood strong and tall (within his options, of course), allowing him to take on the soft weight of your body as you cuddled closer, seeking his warmth and comfort.

„Yah, Jimin-ah, you aren't letting kitten fall, are you?” He heard a deep, unsatisfied rumble behind him as Yoongi let go of him, adjusting the hat that belonged to Taehyung on your head as he calmly caressed your hair. Briskly turning to look at the older alpha, he was quick to whine in annoyance—it was embarrassing enough already that he stumbled.

Yes, they stood on a slippery hill covered in snow; yes, your clothes and his were just a bit too smooth to actually take a grip on; and yes, you did it unexpectedly—but he was an alpha, and you were his courted omega. He was always meant to have you rely on him.

„Hyung-!!” Yoongi chuckled as he continued on his way up the hill a bit further where their photoshoot was meant to take place, catching up to the eldest alpha who was making his way up but turned backwards to the slope so he kept watch over both you and Jimin.

You sighed softly as you rested your cheek on the young alpha's collarbone, breathing in his scent—but all the layers were in the way. Whimpering a little, you grasped his other shoulder, giving the surely expensive corduroy jacket a tug.

„What's wrong, sweetheart? Hm? Tell Alpha Princess; he will make it all better.” He said as he crouched a little to view your face, his fingers hidden in gloves finding your cheeks as they rubbed them for comfort. „C-Can't smell alpha...” you whispered shyly, looking away.

Chuckling softly, Jimin was just quick to hug you closer. „Aigoo, you're so cute! Ah, you'll give alpha a heart attack, princess!” The man gasped as he hugged you even closer, his chin tucking you close to his neck, though not much of it was exposed. After a few moments when he cooed and comforted you, the alpha was quick to unzip just the little top of his jacket, allowing the honey-like skin on his throat to peek through.

Hugging you close, he allowed one of his hands to find purchase on the back of your head, guiding you near as he sighed in content, your cheek resting against the bright warmth he brought with. Breathing in the soft vanilla blossoms with something slightly muskier, you allowed yourself to calm down lightly, any doubts abandoning you. With Jimin's chin carefully running over the top of your head, the alpha scented you softly before you were both interrupted.

A spray of coldness hit just your fingers resting against the alpha's shoulder and collarbone when a loud splosh sounded. Gentle white surrounded you all as you heard the soft giggles and laughs from only a little below you. Gasping and whimpering softly in shock, you felt the alpha's arms tighten around you protectively, the man surprised, not expecting the harsh cold just at the back of his neck when he was oh-so-carefully scenting you like the most tender alpha in the entire world.

Growling from the very bottom of his chest, his head whipped around, his arms tucking you even closer as another snowball hit his cream jacket, the snow breaking and cascading down his back like some kind of waterfall.

„Jeon Jungkook! Who do you think you are?!” He growled, the alpha pissed as the harsh satoori which sometimes comes back to came out in full force. The only response he got was another snowball, this time breaking against his shoulder, crunching against him. Only louder laughter responded as you peeked a little around the alpha's body, his scent agitated even through all the layers.

The maknae seemed to not be at all too worried about the clearly very annoyed alpha, seemingly having the time of his life as he bent to make another snowball quickly. „Don't you dare throw another—”

Before the growl could sound fully, the attack was already launched; this time it missed Jimin, though, landing dangerously close to your right, almost hitting you. Laughing louder, Jungkook was quick to egg the older on, not even reacting to the loud growl the man emitted.

„Hyung, let's play!”

He called happily, two snowballs in his arms as he carried a third, aiming at the said man. Giggling to yourself, you were quick to crouch down as well, making a little snowball yourself, ready to counterattack when the youngest finally would throw, in the meantime hiding behind the older's legs.

At the sound of your soft laugh of pure excitement, the alpha's anger was ever so slightly lifted. Yeah, he was worried about you getting a full blow to your face, knowing the discomfort was real, and you growing cold and sick and—

Standing up quickly, you threw towards the youngest alpha, both of you laughing in glee as you got a partial hit, the man dodging quickly as he soon started to attack you back—but careful to only hit just about your waist down. He was playing, but he didn't actually want you to get cold.

Throwing another snowball at him, you watched as Jungkook slowly but surely started to ascend, step by step, going through all of your attacks. You laughed so much you could hardly breathe as you bent down over and over to make more snowballs as quick as possible, a still lightly annoyed Jimin standing a few ways back where he finally himself started to play too after you softly called, „Jiminie oppa, quick! Before alpha gets here—!!”

Even through both of your attacks, the youngest slowly but surely climbed up the snow hill you were standing on, laughing loudly at any of the snow covering him, shaking it off quickly. And just as he was about a few meters in front of you, you abandoned the snow, gasping happily as you tried your best to run up towards the set.

Getting only a few steps uphill, you felt Jungkook closer and closer, both of you gasping for air through the soft giggles and laughs before the alpha's arms finally looped around your tummy, the man quick to lift you up and spin you in the air. Holding you close, you let your hands rest on the alpha's shoulders, kicking your legs a little in protest to being caught, both of you teetering to no end.

Just then another snowball hit, the maknae's legs getting a shower of snow as you heard a call from somewhere lower down the slope. „Kook-ah, let babycheeks go, or there will be a war!” followed by another snowball when the youngest refused to set you down. At the slightly older alpha's exaggerated war cry followed by the crunching of snow, you watched from the distance as Taehyung started to run up the hill towards you three.

Jungkook set you down gently, laughing softly alongside you as his lips cast a soft kiss on your forehead. „Babybun, I must leave you to war. But fear not, my baby—I will come home soon with victory!” He overplayed, squeezing your fingers as he laughed softly, himself screaming in mock fight as he turned and ran downwards towards Taehyung.

Jimin, quick for revenge, started running after him, tackling the youngest pack member into the plushy snow before he even got to the other alpha making his way up the steep. You watched on as they battled playfully in the snow, play fighting with occasional fake growls and battle cries.

„...b! Cub! Come quick to alpha!”

Looking up towards the quickly growing set, you noticed the eldest, his arms waving in the air as he tried to get your attention for, in his opinion, far too long. You quickly nodded, letting out a soft laugh once again as you hurried along the walked-through trail towards the oldest alpha, who was quick to outstretch his arms in your direction as you approached.

Hugging you close, you let Jin scent the top of your head covered by that hat, leaning in close to his wide shoulders. Softly rubbing the top of your back, the man smiled at you fondly but frowned quickly when he noticed the snow in your hair.

„Aish, peaches, you'll get a cold like this! Come here, let alpha help baby cub...” he fretted, his now gloved hands rushing to brush off any of the snow coating you from Jungkook's vicious attacks.

Taking your hand in his, the alpha adjusted the lanyard around your neck, caressing your cheek. „Come, cub, there are some warm drinks you can have. Are you hungry, baby?” Softly you shook your head. „I had the pas-tries, remember oppa?” You said, as the older lead, you carefully guided through the group of staff. „Okay honey... But you must say if you get hungry okay cub? Alphas will be eating after the photoshoot.”

There was another set-up tent up here as well, but it was much smaller than the one by the parking lot. Ushering you in, the man gently rubbed your back. „Come on, cub, quick, quick...” He said, both of you thanking the staff that held the plastic open for you both to hurry inside.

The air was once again warmer, but mostly scentless, comforting you. You made sure to not look into anyone's eyes, but immediately you noticed Yoongi's smell, the man resting against a foldable chair in his heavy jacket and all, looking as if he were sleeping.

Quick to walk over to him, you successfully avoided colliding with one of the photographers rushing past you, coming closer to the older. Before you even had time to speak, his eyes opened just a tiny bit, just enough for him to see you.

„Kitty?” he gruffly mumbled, one of his hands going out of his pockets to take yours into, the man pulling you closer. Gently guiding you to sit on his lap sideways, your back angled to face the bustling workers, the man didn't say much after that, having you settle on your own in his arms, your head resting close to his chest. His jacket was partially left open, allowing his scent to seep through, comforting you.

As you sighed in content, the alpha's hands rubbed over your back and held your hand, feeling him scent you carefully; you closed your eyes.

„Nap a bit, little kitten... Alpha will be here when you wake up... Don't you worry about a thing,” he mumbled softly to your ear, his lips gently pecking your temple after he took off the little hat, his nimble fingers brushing through your soft hair.

The man himself allowed his mind to slip into the comfort and calmness of sleep, closing his eyes once again, feeling fulfilled with you, his courted omega, resting against his chest, warm and peaceful.

Just perfect.

❄️

You didn't know how much time had passed before you were awoken, a gentle rumble against your warm cheek, as you felt a mellow touch against your head.

„..ke up, little one, hm? Baby pup, alpha has something for you that will make you feel all nice and warm. How about that…? Come on, little pup... There you are...” Your eyes fluttered open, settling on the crouched figure just before you—Namjoon.

The pack alpha watched you kindly like always, one of his hands tightly laced with yours while his other was petting your hair in a soft caress. His cheeks showed the deep dimples you got the pleasure of seeing from time to time as he smiled at your sleepy, cute form.

Pulling you to sit up, the alpha you nested against, Yoongi, gently tutted at your whines, easing you forward when you went to try and turn towards his chest, seeking the comfortable warmth again. „No, no, no kitten ... I know, baby, I know, but listen to your pack alpha now.” He said, a soft pat landing at the side of your hip in warning.

Your eyes found Namjoon's again. Only now did you notice the black thermos he held. „Sit up better, pup... There you go, good girl.” He praised you when you allowed the older to adjust you against his knees, his hands finding purchase just around your waist, still holding you close.

Pouring you the cup of the warm liquid, the alpha felt himself almost preen at the thought of you being warmed up, protected, and comfortable enough to go to sleep even outside of their home. He blew on the cup for a few long moments, making sure the sides wouldn't hurt you as he pulled your sleeves to form cute sweater paws in order to protect you from burning yourself.

„There, now don't let it drop, okay, baby pup...? It's fruit tea; it should be nice and sweet for our little omega. How does that sound?” Chuckling at your excited nod, he blew on it for you again, his hands covering yours as he held the cup with you, the man's thumbs softly caressing your knuckles. Finally, he allowed you to take a little sip, watching over your reaction, smiling widely when you nodded at the taste in satisfaction.

„Baby pup, we must go and do our photoshoot now, 'kay? Do you want to stay with alphas and watch or rest here for a while longer?” He said, one of his palms now caressing your knees.

You still felt quite tired, and so after you mumbled about wanting to go back to sleep, having them both laugh, the man stood up again, kissing your forehead. „Okay, my pup. Let's set you up a little spot then, hm? That sounds good.” You nodded slowly, having Yoongi leisurely slide you off his lap, Namjoon's hand quickly grabbing yours after the older also took the now empty thermos cup, screwing it on.

Leading you further to the corner where the small resting area was located, the pack alpha scooted two of the foldable chairs together so they created a little longer seat. Just then another pack member came to, having you look up after you recognised his scent.

„Oh Sunny, you cutie, did you sleep well?” You nodded, yawning, having the alpha smile at you. „You want to sleep some more? Here, how about we put some of alpha's scent around you, little sunshine?” Hobi said, cleverly thinking as he placed on the seat one of his sweaters he tried on before, but the stylists decided that they preferred a different one for the photoshoot.

Laying it down on the little place, the pack alpha placed his open jacket down there as well, the interior fully fluff-lined, feeling comfortable to touch. Quick to pick you up, the oldest alpha of the bunch gently lowered you down against the soft makeshift den they made for you, wrapping you up in the jacket.

With the comfort companion right next to your cheek, it really did feel almost as if the alphas were all around you if you closed your eyes and thought about it hard enough. Curled up tightly, you watched with tired eyes as Namjoon placed another jacket over you, this time almost fully hiding you from sight.

Yeah, they would be just outside the tent, but nothing was bad about being cautious even if this was all their well-trusted staff around. They wouldn't take any risks when it came down to you.

Sighing softly, Yoongi allowed his wrist gland to scent you as he carefully petted your back, gentle and sweet. Hoseok did the same, for a while holding your hand, which felt a little too cold in his opinion, making sure to tuck it under their scented clothes after. With the pack alpha crouched before you, he watched you carefully as he pecked your forehead from time to time, reminding you of his presence.

„Please, everyone to the set!”

Calling back that they'll be there soon, Hoseok turned back to you as he gushed over you. „Sunny, we will be just outside, okay? If anything, you can come right to us, or call, and alphas will come running to you.” It wasn't even a joke; they all knew that they would be extra cautious to listen to their surroundings should even the littlest whine leave you.

„Alphas will take care of you, little kitten, always and forever... Now rest your little eyes and sleep tight.” The alpha softly said, also tired. He enjoyed his nap with you, safe to say.

„Baby pup, stay here if you can, okay? And if anything goes wrong, you come find alphas right away, okay, little pup? Can you do that for me?” You nodded a little, your mind clouded with sleep.

Leaving a little kiss on the tip of your nose at your answer, the pack alpha gently rubbed your shoulder. „Thank you, little one. Now sleep tight, okay? Alpha loves you.”

He whispered the last part, his voice soft and gentle in a way you had yet to hear. Leaving his scent on you one last time, the alphas slowly walked away, having you rest practically reeking of them. And with the growing quietness of the world surrounding you, you slipped to dreamland once again.

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Next:

[btsydtrash]

Ego [9]

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find that you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 1.8k

AN: Here we go again! crime syndicate BTS X stripper yn. I’ll post this on AO3 too. Some of BTS are humans, some are hybrids. They all are obsessed with Reader. Reader is black in my headcanon.

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence / none )

trigger warnings: hey.... I'm back! yn is depressed. she's suffering a lot but she's not alone. nothing of significance. just needed to get this out after so long. I'll be back soon with more drama!

“Breaking News: The body of an African-American Beta hybrid was found dismembered and abandoned under a bridge in East Point. East Point is known for its houseless and opiate-dependent population. Many new strains of synthetic drugs are being released onto the streets, made accessible to vulnerable, unmated Omegas. Markings found on the body indicate the involvement of a gang widely known as the Dirty7s. The Dirty7s are an anonymous group with links to…”

The TV drones on in the background but you don’t hear it. Well, you can’t hear it. You hadn’t been paying much attention to anything for the last few days. How many? You’ve got no idea. It’s been enough for your hair to start smelling bad anyway.

You walk out of the bathroom, dropping the towel as you go, grabbing the big t-shirt with Thandi’s face on it and pulling it on. You had gotten a couple from the funeral from Thandi’s mom. She had made them, gotten them pressed at a local tailor’s place to raise some money for the funeral. You knew how expensive it was to die. Flashes of your mothers face fly in front of your eyes before you can stop it and they make you wince. You tried to pay but Thandi’s mom had refused your money. “My Thandi told me all about you,” she had said, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t complain. In fact, the sting-burn sensation grounded you, and you felt yourself get lost in her deep, knowledgable eyes. She might have just lost her daughter, but it seems as if she had already experienced a lifetime’s worth of pain. It made you ache. “You… You were her friend. She loved you so much.”

And then you felt it again, the guilt-driven nausea.

It was the first time you met her mom, but you knew all about her daughter, Sana. The young girl, only eight years old, stood solitarily, as the preacher droned on and on about ‘eternal bliss’ and ‘blessed memories’ and ‘living on in memory’. The expression on her face, you knew it so well. It was as if nothing was making sense to her mind. She was so sad, so lost, so lonely. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her throughout the funeral. She looked around at all of the people at her mother’s funeral, curious yet careful, quiet and withdrawn, before turning her eyes to the coffin at the front of the church and biting down on her bottom lip. She didn’t make a sound, not a peep - the whole time.

They opted for a closed casket because well… What other option was there? The truth of Thandi’s death wasn’t lost on the participants of her funeral but it was bad manners to bring it up. The thought alone was enough to bring bile to your throat so fast, it made your head spin. You rush to the bathroom and spit up in the toilet. Just a little bit this time, thankfully. You swill your mouth out and walk to grab something from the refrigerator. It took you days to realize that someone had come into your apartment while you had been at the funeral and had fixed certain things.

The fridge had been filled. The pile of dishes washed. The laundry had been taken and washed and returned all clean and folded. The bed had been spread. The rug had been moved around and vacuumed. The bathroom had been straightened out.

Once you had come to your senses, you burst into grateful tears.

You knew who it was.

He had left a t-shirt of his, saturated in his scent and so big it drowned your body in material, in your closet for you to sleep in.

You take a glance at the t-shirt again, wrapped around a big pillow on your bed, and you sigh, getting into bed once more, hair still damp at the roots of your head. 

Your phone lay on the table beside your bed, silent but charging, and you take a second to look at it before you grab it and make a call.

It doesn’t ring but for two times before you hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello, YN,” Jungkook says, quietly.

You don’t answer. You can’t find your mouth, you can’t feel it well. Your tongue feels fuzzy and heavy, like a weight is sitting on it.

“YN…?”

Jungkook pauses slightly before the sound of him shifting his weight comes through the receiver.

He asks, softly, “Do you need me?”

You are still quiet, but you let out a light sigh through your nose. It’s the loudest you’ve been in days.

No. I don’t need anyone, you want to say. But again, more silence. Your tongue is too heavy. Your stomach is rolling and your head feels all loopy. You can't imagine where all these good hormones are coming from, flooding your system with flickers of light and ease and warmth and syrupy goodness.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, gently. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need.”

Another sigh.

He takes a moment to think before he says, a certain chipperness in his tone, “Shall I tell you about my day, Pretty?”

A final sigh, and you turn over to your side, phone pressed to your cheek. If you were more present in your body, it probably would hurt.

Jungkook sounds as if he reclines in his seat as he begins telling you all about his day.

“It’s been mostly boring. I woke up at 5:30. I went to the gym for a couple of hours. I boxed and ran and did some weights. I think I could press three of you, you know, Pretty? You're so little compared to me. Sorry. I got distracted. Then, I showered and ate breakfast with Tae. You haven’t met him yet, right? I think you’d like him. A lot. Anyway. After, I met Jimin for some work-related stuff. Very boring. Do you want me to tell you about it, Pretty?”

He doesn’t let you get a sigh out before he continues.

“I didn’t think so. Then, after hours of back and forth, I went to go pick up my suit. We have a fancy dinner to go to this weekend. It’s Jin-hyung’s birthday.”

His voice gets all syrupy and warm, and it twists and rolls in your stomach all hot and uncomfortable. Why does his happiness make you feel so bothered?

“-and after we finish at DeMaggio’s, Joonie-hyung says we’re going on a helicopter ride around the city. Would you like to do that one day? Should I invite you? I can do that, you know. I don’t think Hyung would mind.”

The thought alone makes you snort.

He pauses and then, when he talks again, his voice seems relieved.

“You laughed, Pretty.”

You blink, somewhat surprised. He wasn’t lying. You did laugh, breathy and weak as it was.

“Pretty, you know I miss you so much, right?”

You close your eyes tightly at his words, lip getting sucked between your teeth.

He takes a moment to ask, quietly, almost needy, “Do you miss me?”

Your throat gets all tight and thick, and you feel horrible all over again. He hears you choke on something, because his voice gets all flighty, worried and concerned over the phone, as he peppers you with soft words.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Please, don’t cry.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

And then, he pauses and says the one thing you both craved and dreaded to hear.

“She wouldn’t want you to be this angry with yourself,” he says. Then, with more confidence, he claims, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

You cut off the phone before the sobs take over once more.

////

Jungkook taps the edge of his phone on the table a few times before he curses to himself. The wolf glances up from his spot in the corner of Yoongi’s office and asks, “You think I pushed her too much?”

 Yoongi looks over the top of his book and remarks, “It isn’t the end of the world, Kookie. Relax. You did a good job with the cleaner. She probably is sleeping next to the t-shirt you gave her and she called you, of all people she could’ve called.”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip and admits, “I’m getting frustrated.”

Yoongi pushes, lightly, “With?”

He puts the book to the side, knowing full well that he wasn’t getting any more ‘him-time’ while the wolf was occupying his personal office in their home. He loved each of his brothers dearly, however… Fuck, he needed his own place sometimes.

“Being patient,” the wolf explains, glibly. “It’s all so fucking boring.”

“Then occupy yourself with things that matter,” Yoongi suggests, moving to his feet. “I think Tae might be done with the guy downstairs, if you want a turn to pummel something moving?”

“The fucker’s still alive? Tae’s losing his touch,” Jungkook remarks, amusedly. He wasn’t lying. Usually, Tae would have had him chopped into tiny pieces and thrown into a river or incinerated. Jungkook wonders why he’s taking his time.

Yoongi snorts, pushing his glasses into his hair. He only needs them when his eyes start to get dry, like now. He usually didn’t use his other form, preferring to be in his natural hybrid state when in the comfort of their own home, but he’s been testing his personal limits recently, worried that he might freak YN out with his skin, his eyes, his tongue… She was prey, at the end of the day. He probably should have the lights off but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “Not even. Jin won’t let him die. He keeps zapping him with the AFIB machine. I heard he shitted himself.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have been fucking around, pretending to be something he’s not,” Jungkook replies, an annoyed look passing over his face. The younger of the two moves to his feet and he asks, “Say, hyung.” His tone of voice catches Yoongi’s attention, so he sits up a little more in his comfy office chair, eye brow quirking so as to prompt the wolf to continue speaking. “Do you think YN will actually come to understand us?”

Yoongi pauses to mull over his answer for a few seconds before he answers, honestly, "I don’t think she has a choice.”

Jungkook acknowledges his answer with a melancholy look on his face.

Then, he glances down at his Rolex and makes a small noise of glee. “I’ve got a spare hour. I think Tae might be a little fatigued.”

Yoongi snorts before reaching back for the book. His eyes are getting awfully dry. Suddenly, the lights flick off and Jungkook glances back from his spot at the door, a narrow line of yellowed light slightly warming the room.

“Hyung, you know I always know, right?”

Yoongi scoffs. “Get the fuck out of here, pup.”

Jungkook closes the door and Yoongi finally switches back to his natural form, eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his book once more, settling comfortably into his chair.

It just started getting good, too.

- end - 

Schemer (1), Abstentious (2), Thievery (3), Melancholy (4), Writhing (5), Lusting (6), Non-negotiable (7), Cutting the cord (8), Nevertheless (9)

[bestaez]

Don't Fear the Reaper

Scream AU

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

warnings: murder, graphic violence, mature themes, obsessive behavior, sexual content

word count: 13k

summary/preview: Just a year since your brother’s brutal murder, bad luck seems to strike again in your once-peaceful hometown. It seems as if death wants to follow you as it finds its next victim in one of your school friends. The more the murders start to connect, you begin to wonder if it really could be just a copycat killer or if the wrong man was imprisoned.

quick note: this is very unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! ty🖤

It had been almost a year since your brother’s death and you still couldn’t believe it was real. His bedroom door had been practically sealed shut, neither you nor your father daring to venture inside. The sight of his empty room getting dusty would have just made it that much more real - something the both of you didn’t need as the constant news coverage had done enough of that job already.

It wasn’t necessarily that you were so distraught over Seowon’s death that you couldn’t come to terms with it. He was your older brother, your own blood, but that didn’t mean the two of you had been the closest siblings. You would describe your relationship over the years as lukewarm at best. You loved him because he was your brother but you never truly felt like you knew him. It was also hard to mourn with news vans following you everywhere you went.

The part that was hard to believe was the way in which he had died. He had been found in the woods near your house with seventeen stab wounds. It didn’t make any sense. Your brother had been a star football player at your school, part of the popular crowd. He was well-liked amongst students and teachers. You didn’t think anyone had a bad opinion of him. It’s possible he had rivals especially in sports or romances but nothing that would warrant murder.

Initially, there had been a lot of speculation in the town and you had heard all the rumors, including the one where your father had killed him in a fit of rage. You knew it could never be true; your father had been devastated by your brother’s death. He had been emotionless before, but now he was just a shell of the man he was. And whoever said loss could bring people closer had obviously never met your father.

The truth was that your father had always been emotionally closed for as long as you had known him. Your mother had died from complications after your birth and though he had never voiced it, you knew that he had resented you for being the cause of your mother’s death. At times, you wished you had never been born because living with the guilt had been too much to bear especially living with a father who never forgave you for it. 

When the police eventually did find a suspect, you were shocked to say the least. Min Yoongi was a few years older than you and had already graduated when the murder weapon as well as your brother’s blood on his clothing was found. He had always been a serious guy and if you asked most people, they would say they had always believed he kept skeletons in his closet. You knew he was a bit of a recluse, but you never would have guessed he was capable of murder. The motive they came up with was that Yoongi had been jealous of your brother’s popularity and mixed with his own mental instability, things inevitably came to a day and he decided to act out his aggressions.

Many people wanted to know your side of it, whether you believed the story and whatnot. You had mostly stayed silent on the matter, unlike your father who had screamed at Yoongi in court and had to be dragged out of the room. You can still remember the stares you got from everyone that day - it was the same look you got from most of the town and your classmates. A mix of pity, curiosity, and judgment.

It was safe to say you hadn’t been looking forward to this time of year. The true crime fanatics had seemingly been ramping up their shenanigans, hoping to possibly find some clue that would connect more of the dots. The stares you always felt in town and at school hadn’t lessened and seemed to be picking up a bit more in recent weeks as the anniversary drew closer.

Which is why most nights, you would find yourself holed up in your bedroom where it was calmer. Much to your best friend's dismay, as she would always try to drag you away to some party or school outing. Haena hated it when you closed yourself off and didn’t believe in wallowing alone. In her eyes, it was as if your introvertedness was just a sickness that she had to cure.

The only person who understood your feelings was your boyfriend, Taehyung. He, too, was a bit of a homebody and didn’t mind staying in with you most nights. He did have more friends and liked to party, but he never pressured you to go out. Part of you believed he enjoyed having you all to himself that way and for some reason you didn’t mind it.

You don’t know how you got so lucky getting a boyfriend like Taehyung. He was so dreamy with dark black locks that were often tucked behind his ear and matching dark eyes that seemed to always be on you. He was an artist and could often be found wearing distressed jeans and sweaters with little splotches of paint here and there. He was extremely affectionate, always having to have his hands on you some way or another.

The two of you met in freshman year art class where you had quickly realized you had no business holding a paintbrush, much to Taehyung’s amusement. He would offer to fix up your paintings when the teacher wasn’t looking and was the only reason you ended up passing. It wasn’t until a little after that semester that the two of you started dating.

A low tapping interrupted your thoughts as you sat in bed, almost too quiet to hear over the television playing in your room. You got up to investigate, pulling your curtains open to see none other than Taehyung leaning up against your window using a ladder to get up here. You weren’t even sure if that ladder was yours but you were glad your window didn’t face the street where others could see.

You opened the window as you spluttered in shock, stepping back to allow him room to clamber inside. You held your breath as you kept an ear out to make sure your dad hadn’t heard his nosy arrival, eyes trained on the door like he would bust in any moment.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed once you had regained your composure.

“What, I can’t visit my girlfriend?” Taehyung pouted. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too but if my dad catches you-” “He won’t.” Taehyung cut you off, leveling you with his beautiful dark eyes as he leaned closer to you on the bed. “I’m stealthy.”

You breathed out a sigh, at a loss for words from his sudden close proximity. He reminded you of a tiger the way he stared you down like you were prey. You were so mesmerized by him you had missed him inching closer until you could feel his breath on your lips.

“Tae-” You tried to stop him but he shushed you, pressing his mouth to yours.

Taehyung was your first serious boyfriend and there hadn’t been a single dull moment in your relationship yet. For you, every new experience you had with him had been a thrill. But there was only so many heated makeouts you two could have before you knew he would want to do more. He understood you were inexperienced and was willing to wait but you wondered how much longer before he cracked.

As if on cue, his hand grazed your thigh lightly as if to test the waters. When you didn’t stop him, he grew more confident and raised it until it reached your hip, squeezing gently. You appeared calm on the outside but on the inside, your heart was racing.

He pulled back a bit to look you in the eyes, licking his lips as he smirked. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

Your eyes widened in embarrassment as you quickly sat up, covering your cheeks as you felt them heating. You had hoped it wouldn’t have been so obvious. Why couldn’t you just be normal? 

“Still so nervous around me after all this time,” He chuckled wryly, lifting a hand to remove the ones covering your face. His fingers caressed your cheek as he gazed at you. “What can I do to make you more comfortable, baby?”

“I’m sorry.” You breathed, feeling your heart skip at all the intense eye contact. “I just need more time.”

“Don’t be sorry. I told you I would wait.” He gave you a small smile, leaning in to give you another kiss. He brushed a hand through your hair before pulling away and making his way back over to the window.

You watched him begin his descent back down to the ground before an idea popped into your head. You don’t know where the sudden confidence came from but the sight of his retreating back made you want to try something.

“Taehyung,” You called out from the window once he had made it all the way down. He looked back up at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in question. “Something to hold you over for now?”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you lifted your shirt up, exposing your breasts to him from down below. You waited a few nerve wracking seconds before pulling it back down, giggling nervously as you did.

His look of pure shock made it all worth it, preventing any possible embarrassment from flooding into your system. You could tell your stunt had rendered him speechless for a moment, if the choked sputters coming from him were anything to go by.

“I think you just made it worse.” He finally spoke, his voice deep and chilling. You laughed loudly, moving to shut your window closed.

*****

When you arrived at school the next day, the atmosphere was tenser than usual. You were used to people whispering around you but this was different. People seemed to be more huddled in groups. It was as if there was some unseen sinister presence that had arrived. You weren’t sure if you could just blame it on the seasons changing but there definitely seemed to be a chill in the air this morning.

A hand grabbing your arm on your way through the courtyard startled you, your heart jumping only to see it was just Haena. Her eyes were wide as she squeezed your forearm urgently. You could tell just by her expression that whatever was going on was serious.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your confusion was obvious as you watched realization dawn on her.

“You haven’t heard...” She paused as if trying to find the right words, biting her lip unsurely. “YN, some students were murdered last night.”

“What? Who?” The shock spread throughout your body like a numbness, your extremities feeling cold all of the sudden.

“Park Jimin and Yoon Iseul.”

You weren’t sure if any names that could possibly come out of her mouth would not come as a shock but this just floored you. Jimin and Iseul were the school’s power couple. Everyone was in love with them or wanted to be their friend. The correlation between their deaths and your brother’s wasn’t lost on you. Could it be a copycat killer? You didn’t want to think of the alternative - that Yoongi had been wrongfully imprisoned.

“That must be why everyone is acting so strange today.” You mumbled mindlessly, hearing the words coming out of your mouth but not feeling connected with them. “I just saw Iseul yesterday in sixth period.”

“It’s all I’ve been hearing about this morning. How Iseul’s parents came home to the grizzliest scene you can imagine. They said Jimin was tied up and they found Iseul out- '' Her chattering stopped upon seeing the sick look on your face, her lips pressing together as if just now realizing who she was speaking to. You didn’t blame her though - you knew she was just in shock. “Well, you get the gist. Apparently a neighbor saw the killer run out of there wearing some kind of weird ghost mask. Now everyone’s calling them ‘Ghostface.’”

“I don’t understand why this keeps happening.”

At some point in the day, you were called to the principal’s office for questioning. This wasn’t strange, though, as everyone in the entire school was going through the same thing. The police figured their first place to look was at the school, which made sense.

They had asked you simple questions like how well you knew Jimin and Iseul, if you knew if they were in any drama at school, etc. You had answered honestly and as accurately as you could. To be honest, you hadn’t the slightest who could have done something like this. But you could sense the detectives figured you might have some clue as you had been around death before. They looked at you like you had some kind of ghost hanging around you.

You decided that going through your day like you always did was the best shot at getting through it, clinging to any shred of normalcy that you could find. And if that meant having lunch with Haena and her usual friend group, then so be it. The seven of you were sitting outside in the courtyard, the climate having warmed up a bit since this morning.

The boys were goofing off with each other as if nothing was wrong, which in a way comforted you. You needed to act like everything was okay or else you could feel your sanity start to slip. Eyeing Haena, she was chatting with Jungkook while throwing her feet in his lap. He was rubbing her lower calves and you couldn’t help but watch how comfortable they were with each other in public like this.

It gave you the courage to lean back onto Taehyung who was sitting behind you, his warm chest a welcome embrace. He responded by wrapping his arms around your front, not missing a beat as he conversed with Hobi about the quiz they took this morning.

“Did they ask you guys if you liked to hunt?” Hobi asked all of the sudden, the idle chatter dying down as you all knew he was talking about the police interrogations all students had to partake in today.

“Yeah, I just told them I liked to fish.” Jin barked out a laugh.

You wondered out loud, “Why would they ask that?”

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Hobi responded matter-of-factly, turning to Jin with a suspicious look. “Kind of like a fish.”

“Thank you, Hobi.” Taehyung spoke sarcastically and you could practically feel his eye roll from behind you.

“They didn’t ask me about hunting,” Haena frowned in confusion.

“You think a girl could have pulled off a murder like that? Yeah, right.” Jungkook chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at her in a condescending manner.

Haena scoffed in disgust, pulling her legs off his lap. “That is so sexist of you. Plenty of women become serial killers - look at Aileen Wuornos.”

“She used a gun on her male-only victims. Not exactly the same.”

“Yeah, from what I hear Jimin and Iseul were barely recognizable by the time they found them.” Jungkook informed, seemingly undeterred by Haena’s annoyance. “The fact is that it would take a man to do something like that.”

“How do you gut someone?” Your voice trembled as you voiced the question, your curiosity getting the best of you. Taehyung tightened his arms around you and leaned his head on your neck, leaving a kiss there.

It was silent for a moment before Jungkook spoke up, “Well, you’d get a knife and start from the groin-”

“Jungkook, shut the fuck up.” Taehyung’s harsh tone left no room for argument and even made you tense up a bit.

“Didn’t you date Iseul?” You asked Jungkook.

His eyes lit up for a moment as he chuckled, “Yeah, for like two seconds.”

“Before she dumped him for Jimin!” Hobi chimed in. “Hmm, I wonder how the police would feel if they knew you were her lover scorned.”

“What, you think I killed her?” Jungkook laughed genuinely, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m sure you would love to see me behind bars but I’m afraid I have an alibi.”

Haena rolled her eyes as Jungkook winked at her, fed up with his immaturity. “If you think I’m going to defend your misogynistic ass, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Jungkook watched her with a pout as she stood up to leave, gathering her books for the next class. “Come on, baby! You know I’m not a killer.”

She ignored him as she walked off, which led to him jumping up and following her to no doubt get back in her good graces. Those two had been on-and-off for a while but you would be lying if you said their shenanigans weren’t entertaining. He was a pig-headed jock and she was an artsy type. They didn’t make any sense but somehow they ended up together.

*****

You went home that day to an empty house and a note on the kitchen table, which both surprised you and somehow didn’t. You were used to your father skipping out on you with no notice but to leave a note? That wasn’t like him.

Got a lead for a job out of town so I’ll be gone for a few days. I’ll try to call but might not have service -Dad 

You supposed the message was emotionally detached enough to be from him but you couldn’t help the strange feeling you got from reading it. You knew he probably wouldn’t call or if he did, it would be just to let you know he was staying longer. He knew you didn’t expect much from him and probably preferred it that way. Weirdly enough, you did too.

Exhausted from the day, you threw your bag on the floor and collapsed on the couch. You flipped the TV on and surfed through the channels mindlessly before one with a news headline and familiar face caught your eye. It was a reporter that you recognized almost immediately - Kim Namjoon. He had covered your brother’s case extensively and even wrote a book about it.

“ This small but mighty town has been hit yet again with another gruesome homicide case. Two young teenagers were found brutally murdered in their own home. ” He spoke clearly, his dragon-eyes penetrating you through the TV screen. You had seen them in person and knew how deadly their effect could be. “ Authorities have yet to release any statement but we know now that no arrest has been made and the murderer could strike again. ”

“ Could it be merely just a coincidence that this month is the anniversary of yet another senseless killing? It has been only ten months since Min Yoongi was found guilty for the murder of Jung Wooshik, who was also a student at Woodsboro High. ” Namjoon continued, and you held your breath as you waited for him to say what you had been fearing. “ Many have made a few theories on what could be the meaning of this, including that of a possible copycat killer or perhaps a wrongful imprisonment. It’s safe to say the town of Woodsboro needs to stay vigilant on protecting its own. ”

You cut him off there, not wanting to hear any more. Namjoon had made it clear early on that he was doubtful of Yoongi being the killer and spent most of his news coverage with that perspective. You tried not to take it personally but there had been instances where it seemed like the reporter blamed you for what happened. You knew you weren’t directly responsible for Yoongi’s conviction but you couldn’t help but wonder if you should feel guilty. You had only told the truth to the judge, that you had seen Yoongi by your house the day your brother died. That your brother had bought some weed from him and that you had seen him leaving while your brother was still alive. What happened between then and when your brother was killed was completely unknown to you.

But your witness testimony along with the physical evidence found in Yoongi’s home and car had been enough to convict him. You can still vividly remember the expression on Yoongi’s face when the verdict was given, as though he hadn’t even heard the judge. You couldn’t help but be amazed at his absolute indifference to everything going on around him at all times. You had never seen him smile or get angry ever. He kept all his emotions inside and it only fueled to make you more unsure of him.

The sound of the phone ringing loudly next to you made you jump, hand laying on your chest to feel your racing heart. You took a deep breath before you answered, “Hello?”

“YN, I just wanted to check on you and make sure you got home okay.” Of course it was just Haena. You knew she worried about you especially when you were home with your father.

“Yeah, I’m okay. My dad’s left town apparently so I’ve got the place to myself.”

“Oh shit, really?” She sounded stunned by this. “Didn’t he hear the news?”

“Not sure. Although knowing him, he might have just wanted to get away from all the media craziness.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” As if she could sense your hesitance, she continued in a more serious tone, “I know you probably think I’m being dramatic but I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“Okay.” You relented, agreeing that it was probably best to not be isolated and vulnerable with a killer on the loose.

You ran upstairs to pack some clothes for the week, unsure of how long you would be staying there. The thought occurred to you that you should probably let Taehyung know where you would be going just in case he tried to make another surprise sneak-in on you again. You picked up your phone and dialed his number. It rang one time before immediately going to voicemail, causing you to pull the phone back and look at it in confusion. It wasn’t like him to outright reject your call, so you tried again. This time it rang all the way through before going to voicemail. 

“Huh, that’s weird.” You waited for the automated voice to end and the beep to sound before leaving him a message informing him of where you would be tonight as well as Haena’s home number in case he needed to reach you later.

When you got to Haena’s house a little while later, you weren’t exactly sure why you felt uneasy all of the sudden seeing the police vehicle in her driveway. Her dad was Sheriff Lee and he had always been like a father to you, more so than your own father anyway. But just seeing his car again after so long and knowing he was in there was dredging up old memories that you had tried to forget.

Haena answered the door with a bright grin and pulled you inside excitedly. You already knew you were in for an eventful next few days, especially with her two younger brothers who were always loud and rambunctious. But oddly enough, you found that you enjoyed being around such a loving and busy household because that had never been your home experience.

You were greeted by warm hugs from Mrs. Lee before she quickly sat you down for dinner with a plate full of food. Haena rolled her eyes at her mom’s antics especially when she realized she was not included in this display of special treatment and would have to make her own plate. At some point, Sheriff Lee rolled in and you could tell by the tired lines on his face that this week had taken a toll on him.

He still greeted you with a smile and a pat on the head before joining you all at the table. Mrs. Lee brought her husband a plate and you couldn’t help but watch as he grabbed her hand to give it a kiss. The two of them had always been a sweet couple and what with your lack of ever seeing that growing up, you were always fascinated by them.

“How’s your father doing, YN?” Haena’s father asked.

“Fine,” You answered, rolling a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “He’s actually on a work trip this week so Haena convinced me to come stay here for a little while if that’s okay.”

“You know you’re always welcome here, honey. You’re practically family.” Mrs Lee was quick to reassure you.

“Work trip, huh?” Sheriff Lee’s eyebrows were drawn together as he held a spoonful of stew in front of him thoughtfully. “Did he mention where?”

“Nope. You know how he is,” You answered honestly and he nodded.

Just then, the phone rang and Mrs. Lee got up to go answer it. You were about to go clean your dish when she came back into the kitchen and said, “YN, someone’s on the phone for you.”

You quickly went over to go pick it up, “Hello?”

“YN,” Taehyung’s deep voice came through on the other line, sounding hushed and slightly out-of-breath. “I just got your message.”

“Oh, yeah well I just didn’t want you to go worrying if you called me and I didn’t answer. Haena’s family is taking care of me.”

“Yeah? That’s good.” He responded, and you could practically picture him posted up somewhere like the cool guy he was. “Although, I wish I had answered when you called because I could have kept you company.”

“I’m sure you would have liked that.” You chuckled. “I don’t think my heart can handle another one of your window sneak-ins.”

“Well, I don’t think my heart can handle being away from you that long.”

“You’ll still see me at school.” You reasoned, rolling your eyes despite him not being able to see you.

“Yeah but that’s school. You won’t even let me kiss you unless it’s somewhere hidden.” You could practically hear his pout through the receiver. “Why don’t you meet me at your place sometime this week? I’ll cook you dinner and we can finally be alone together.”

You couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at his sudden pushiness to get you alone. You knew if you agreed to meet him at your house that he would probably try to have sex with you again. As much as you wanted to take that step with him, you were scared.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, what with the recent murders and all. I think it’s probably best to stay in larger groups.”

“What, you don’t think I can protect you? I know I’m skinny but I’m strong.”

“No I know you can but it’s just not a good time right now.”

“Yeah, I know. You haven’t been yourself in a while.” He huffed into the receiver. 

You laughed sarcastically, unsure if he was being serious right now. “Yeah, sorry I’m not in the mood to have sex with you right now. I’m kinda still reeling over the deaths of our classmates.”

“I don’t mean recently. You haven’t been the same since Seowon died.” His words shocked you, not understanding where this was coming from all of the sudden.

“Uh, well that’s kind of what loss does to a person if you didn’t know. They change - drastically.” All humor was gone from your tone as you felt yourself getting annoyed with him.

“Yeah well it’s been a year since he died and you’re still so skittish around me. It’s like you think I’m some kind of bad guy.”

“I’m sorry if my trauma has ruined things for you but no one is making you stay with me. If you need it that badly then you-” 

“Stop. That’s not what I meant at all.” He huffed angrily, taking a pause to gather his thoughts. “Listen, I don’t want to make you upset. I know it’s hard to see right now but I’m just feeling insecure. I want to make sure we’re still okay.”

At your silence, he let out another sigh. “I’m gonna let you go now. Please don’t be mad at me. I love you.”

He didn’t say anything after that but he stayed on the line, and you knew he was waiting for you to say it back. Hoping for you to say it back. And as pissed off as he had made you, you hated the idea of going to bed mad at him. So you conceded, for now.

“I love you too.”

*****

When you arrived on campus the next day, you spotted Namjoon standing near his usual news van. He was dressed smartly in an olive sweater and gray slacks, his glasses making him look more like a university student than a reporter. He was busy sorting through some papers, probably brushing up on his notes before he did his next broadcast.

You felt compelled to speak with him, especially after everything that had been going on recently. Over the past year, he had reached out to you multiple times for a comment and you always declined. The only time you had spoken in-person was after the court case had ended and it hadn’t been the most cordial moment.

“YN, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?” Namjoon raised his eyebrows at you, a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite pick up in his expression.

“I wanted to talk to you about Min Yoongi.”

“Okay.” He spoke slowly, glancing over at his camera crew who were standing a few feet away. “I’m guessing this is off the record?”

“Yes, please.” You paused, trying to think on how to start. “I know you probably don’t think very highly of me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you wrote a whole book on how my witness testimony was the reason an innocent man was imprisoned.”

“Yes. I still stand by that.” He responded honestly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So what, you think I’m a liar?”

“You painted a picture that made him look like a killer. I think you were so desperate for all the media coverage and court trials to end that you picked him as a scapegoat.”

“Have you talked to Yoongi?”

“Many times. He admits to selling drugs to your brother but that’s all.” The look on his face told you just how in-depth their conversations had gone. Namjoon was a very detail-oriented man.

“Then how do you explain the blood on his clothes and the murder weapon in his home?”

“His roommate testified that he came home high with no blood on his clothes. Someone else planted all that evidence and framed him.” The way he spoke of Yoongi was almost like they were close; he clearly felt very strongly about clearing his name.

“Why are you so adamant on proving his innocence? Did you know him?”

“Why do you care what I think?” Namjoon’s face screwed up as he seemed to grow more irritated with you. This was the real emotion you expected to get from him, behind the friendly facade he tried to put on with you. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Yoongi’s life is ruined, he’ll never see the light of day again.”

“That’s not what I wanted.” Now, it was your turn to look confused. “I wanted justice. I told the judge exactly what I saw that day.”

His lips pursed as he thought for a moment, processing your words. “Yes, I knew Yoongi. We weren’t exactly friends but anyone who knew him knew he was harmless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Harmless and yet he sold drugs to teenagers?” You regretted it as soon as it came out your mouth. You knew it was a low blow and you didn’t truly care that he did that anyway but you needed to cling onto some semblance that you made the right call.

He hummed as he searched your face for a moment, “Why are you asking me about Yoongi all of the sudden? You’re not so sure anymore, are you?”

“No, Yoongi murdered my brother.” You weren’t even sure if you believed yourself at how weak your voice sounded.

“These murders are related, aren’t they? The killer’s still on the loose.” He sounded almost triumphant as he marveled at your recent revelation, the cogs in his head working on overdrive. You had just confirmed his biggest theory yet despite your best efforts not to.

Now was a good time to leave. You weren’t sure what you had hoped to get out of this interaction but it wasn’t this. You had been avoiding the truth for a long time but it was catching up to you. 

“Goodbye, Namjoon. Always a pleasure.” He didn’t respond as he watched you move to leave, his lips moving as he quietly murmured to himself. Despite his dark calculating eyes following your every move, you knew that he was in a different place conjuring up his next news broadcast.

*****

Halfway through the school day, it became apparent that Principal Choi had not shown up nor called in sick. After multiple attempts to reach his home phone, one of the administrators called the police to do a wellness check. And what they had found upon entering his home had been what everyone was fearing.

The news of Principal Choi’s death spread through the school like wildfire and you could tell the staff struggled to hold themselves together while keeping the students organized. A few police officers arrived at the school to work with the administrators on figuring out how to go about letting the students go home.

You were in the library with Haena and Jungkook when a pair of boys came running through your section and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. One was screaming in an exaggerated manner and the other was wearing the infamous Ghostface mask and chasing the former. You could tell they were just playing a prank but you didn’t see how anyone could be making fun of the situation right now.

“What is wrong with people?”

“Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like Halloween.” Jungkook threw his head back and laughed.

“Stupidity leak!” Haena berated him, whacking him in the head with her notebook.

You shook your head at him, deciding to just ignore his comment. “Have you guys seen Taehyung around?”

“You mean after you gave him blue balls? No, his heart’s broken.”

“Jungkook,” Haena elbowed him hard, causing him to grunt.

“He said that?” You were shocked that even Jungkook knew about your lack of a sex life but should have known that boys would talk just like girls did.

“Of course he did. The guy’s crazy about you.”

“What guy’s crazy about her?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Taehyung leaned over you from behind to kiss the top of your head, causing your heart to do a flip.

“Keanu Reeves, of course.” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Haena at her swift coverup, causing her to give you a wink.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Taehyung whispered in your ear and held your hand as he pulled you out of your chair. Haena ignored Jungkook trying to get her attention as she watched you follow your boyfriend to a more secluded area. 

“I’m really sorry about what I said before - it was way out of line. I’ve been a little out of sorts lately with everything going on.” He sounded vulnerable as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart tug at his remorseful face. He had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. “I just want us to be okay again. I want my girlfriend back.”

“I’m still your girlfriend,” You rolled your eyes playfully, squeezing his hand in yours. “But I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel insecure. I know I’ve been acting different for a while and it wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just haven’t been dealing with my trauma very well.”

“That’s not your fault. You don’t need to feel bad about how you grieve.” He reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, a soft expression on his face.

“I haven’t been grieving at all - that’s the problem. It’s like my emotions have been shut off.” You sighed, shutting your eyes as his hand moved to caress your cheek. “I can’t keep hiding in my room forever. I need to move on.”

When you opened your eyes again, Taehyung was watching you carefully with his mouth pressed shut. You wished you could read his mind. There was more you wanted to say but you found it hard to find the words, so you decided to let your actions speak by leaning forward and kissing him deeply.

You could tell he hadn’t expected you to make the move by the way he froze but he quickly recovered, pulling you closer with his arms settling around your waist. You pressed yourself to him as he leaned against the bookshelf. This was the most hot and heavy you had ever been in public and you could tell he was enjoying it, not wanting to part from you for even a second.

When you did eventually pull away, you felt brave enough to ask, “Will you meet me at my house later?”

You felt him tense up in shock yet again but couldn’t see his face as you were leaning on his chest. You dared to look up and see him looking at you with wide eyes.

“I thought you wanted to stay at Haena’s.”

“I changed my mind.” You shrugged, feeling giddy as his face lit up. “You’ll protect me from any bad guys, right?”

He pulled you in again, wrapping his arms around you tightly and resting his chin on the crown of your head. You had never felt safer.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Taehyung has always been careful and thoughtful about how he treated you. His touches were gentle and soft; you couldn’t imagine him hurting a fly. Maybe it was just his artsy persona but you had always known him to be a deep, considerate person. He was meticulous about every detail, whether it was his art or his life. Sometimes it seemed like he truly believed life was art; a painting that was ever-changing and inspiring.

You were a masterpiece in his eyes. Something to be cherished and never tarnished. That was why he wanted to keep you safe from the evil in the world. He knew that life had already not been fair to you. But he believed it was his job to prevent any further wrongdoings from coming into your life. He wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who would even try to cause you harm.

It was when you were laid out on your bed looking like an angel, Taehyung felt like he was truly going to Hell. Surely God was coming for him because he had stolen an angel and kept her all to himself. You had given yourself up to him and you didn’t know it yet but he would never let you go. How could he?

The only word to describe it was heaven. Having you in his arms like this, touching parts of you his hands had never dared to before - it was pure bliss. He wanted to stay like this forever. There was nothing out there for either of you. Everything you both needed was right here, in each other’s arms.

He had lost count of how many times he made you come undone before he had even entered you. This wasn’t his first time but it may as well have been with the way he struggled to not fall apart almost immediately. You were his weakness and at the same time you were the only thing keeping him together most of the time. He didn’t care how old you both were - you were it for him.

You had always imagined your first time would be like a dream, full of romantic candles and roses. The reality of it was much different, more natural, and yet you found it to be better than you could have ever imagined. You felt like one of Taehyung’s paintings as his lips and fingertips caressed you everywhere, molding you into one of his perfect creations. You were his muse and you had never felt so beautiful.

It was a night of passion and love; the perfect embodiment of your relationship. Whatever rocky period you had been going through before was long gone and you almost couldn’t believe you had ever wanted to delay this. This was where you needed to be. You knew you probably sounded like a naive teenager, but you didn’t want to think of anyone else in this way ever. You only wanted Taehyung.

“I’ll always love you, YN. I’ll never leave you.”

*****

The next day, you were on your way to your locker when you spied Haena waiting for you. You tried to act indifferent to Haena’s wide eyes looking you up and down as you approached her. It was as if she was trying to find some kind of visible evidence on you.

“So?” You knew she wanted to know what happened last night, but you weren’t ready to spill so soon. 

“So... what?” You acted ignorant as you opened up your locker, reaching for your math textbook.

“Oh come on, I’m dying here! Spill.”

“Okay, okay.” Laughter bursted out of you, your resolve crumbling before you could even try to build it up. “We, uh... did it.”

“More details, please.” She rolled her eyes at your vagueness.

“It was really sweet. He made us a nice dinner and then we...” You cringed, not knowing how to talk about it without sounding corny. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Well, did it hurt? Did you come?” You nodded to both questions honestly and her eyebrows raised as she became more intrigued. “How many times?��

When she saw you counting on your fingers higher and higher, she blew a low whistle. “God damn. Good for you, girl.”

“I feel like he set the bar pretty high. Is it always like this or is he just really talented?”

“Well, it depends. Jungkook is usually pretty good but sometimes he’s too drunk or lazy and then I end up doing most of the work myself.”

You pursed your lips in thought, “Doesn’t he go down on you before?”

Her eyes widened as she opened her mouth in shock, “Can I borrow him?”

You smacked her on the arm as she laughed, linking arms with you as you both made your way to class.

“Oh, by the way, Jungkook’s having a party at his house later.” She mentioned nonchalantly as she popped her gum in her mouth.

“What about curfew?”

She shrugged, “I don’t think they’re being too strict about it. It’s probably safer that we’re all together anyway.”

You still looked convinced, so she added, “But if you’re really worried, we can just stay over at his place. His parents are out of town.”

“Does your dad know?” You glanced at her curiously.

“God, no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “He’s working a night shift so he’ll be busy patrolling. And I’ll just tell my mom we’re staying at yours.”

“Okay. We can go.”

“Yeah?” She looked surprised, a bright smile painting her face. It was infectious as you found yourself smiling back at her and nodding. She bumped shoulders with you, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned in, “Hmm, I like the new you. She’s fun.”

You were surprised how easy it was for you to agree to the party. Maybe last night gave you more confidence to just live a little. All you knew was the old you would have opted to stay at Haena’s for another night in and you didn’t want to be stuck in your old ways. You owed it to yourself and everyone you loved to move on.

You had foolishly fallen into a sense of false security, not necessarily forgetting about the horrors your town had been cursed with but just for once not having it in the forefront of your mind. You had felt closer to your boyfriend than ever before and now you were ready to be more adventurous. It wasn’t until later in the day did that bubble of excitement pop.

When the classroom door opened to reveal Sheriff Lee, the students around you immediately began whispering to each other conspiringly. You wondered what it could be this time around as he whispered something to the teacher before turning back to face front with a serious expression. Your teacher’s eyes landed on you as she waved her hand, “YN.”

Everyone around you hushed as you gathered your things with shaking hands, making your way to the front of the room quickly. The air out in the hallway felt different, less suffocating. It somewhat helped your rising anxiety.

One look at Sheriff Lee gave you a new perspective of this man who had practically raised you. He wasn’t that old, only early 50s, but the stress he had put under with his profession had aged him. He had tired bags under his eyes, worry lines on his forehead, and sprouting grays here and there. He had always been handsome and you could tell he would continue to age like wine. But that didn’t change how sad it made you to see him in this state.

“YN, I’m afraid I have some bad news. There was a report of a car that wrecked on the side of the road just outside of town.” He spoke slowly as he relayed the information, the consideration from him not lost on you. You were trying to process it all while still not understanding why he was telling you this. “It was your dad’s car.”

Your heart stopped as you clutched your school bag in your hand. Thoughts were going wild in your head as your breathing became erratic. You didn’t know what any of this meant. 

“What, um... is he dead?” Your tongue felt disconnected like your brain was just on autopilot.

“No one has seen him yet.” He sighed, a deep frown etched across his features. “I know you said he was leaving for a work trip but have you spoken to him at all since he left?”

He was aware that your father wasn’t known for contacting you at times like these, but you understood he still had to ask. “No. The last time I saw him was the night before he left.”

He nodded as if he expected that, giving you a small smile. “Well, we’ll keep looking. In the meantime, I want you to stay out of your house in case there are any clues to where he could have gone. And it’s probably safer that you’re not alone right now.”

“Okay.”

It seemed like he wanted to say more but clearly was out of his depth when it came to comforting someone. It wasn’t like he could make any promises about finding your dad because the truth was he was most likely gone. You had dealt with enough loss that you knew this feeling well. You gave him a matching small smile, albeit weak but you hoped it would appear encouraging.

“Thank you, Sheriff Lee.”

*****

School ended early that day, mostly due to the fact that half the staff had called out in fear of receiving the same fate as Principal Choi. It was strange that they even had anyone come in at all but you figured the police had already suspected the killer was at the school, thus being their best bet at finding them. Everyone was on edge as if Ghostface was still lurking in its shadows. Which technically, he probably was.

You had already started to go through in your mind which students in your school could have done it. There were a few stronger girls in your class who could have had the physical power to do it, but they were all too nice or non confrontational. There were plenty of bully-like guys that could fit the description, but you had a hard time truly seeing any of your classmates being involved in such gruesome scenes. It’s just that all the victims had one thing in common: the high school. It only made sense that all suspicion would be pointed here.

Eventually, you gave up trying to figure it out because you were only going in circles in your head. The police would figure it out. Tonight was supposed to be fun and you were sure the killer wouldn’t be brave enough to attack a whole group of teenagers. There was strength in numbers and you felt safer this way.

As you and Haena made your way up the driveway, music could be heard blasting from inside. You weren’t even that late but it seems the party was already in full swing. There were a dozen football players and cheerleaders lounging in the main room when you walked in, most of them unknown to you. Haena greeted a few people in the hallway and you followed her into the kitchen as she searched for some refreshments. 

“It’s about time you guys showed up,” Jungkook yelled from where he was standing by the snack table.

“I see you guys couldn’t wait to get started,” Haena eyed where Hobi was pouring beer down a funnel into Jin’s mouth.

“Well no one told you guys to arrive fashionably late,” Hobi replied, high-fiving Jin before switching places with him. Haena rolled her eyes, moving on to talk to Jungkook on the other side of the room.

“Hey, have you guys seen Taehyung?” You asked, leaning against the countertop island.

“He was in here earlier. I think he said something about going outside for a smoke,” Jin informed, not taking his eyes off where he was pouring.

You briefly wondered how you had missed him if you had just come from the outside but shrugged it off. He had to be around here somewhere. You ventured out into the main room and plopped down on the couch. The music had been turned down a bit as they were going back and forth trying to decide what movie to watch. For some reason, the genre they had settled on was horror which was in poor taste in your opinion. At least it was entertaining to hear them argue about who usually survives in a horror movie.

A hand on your shoulder startled you, looking up to see Hobi standing there with the telephone. “Phone for you.”

You held in your confusion as you got up to take the call in a quieter area. “Hello?”

“YN, it’s Namjoon.” Of all people who could be calling you, he was probably the last one you would suspect. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t heard yet.” He sighed and your heart thudded in your chest, unable to speak as you willed him to continue. “Sheriff Lee’s dead. They found him strung up on one of the field goals in the football field.”

You almost dropped the phone, a stuttered gasp being the only sound you could make for a moment. 

“Oh god,” you finally spoke, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Is Haena with you?” He asked quickly, trying to distract you.

“Yes.” Swallowing, you covered your other ear as the voices in the main room started getting louder. How were you supposed to tell everyone? You were surprised you were even still standing.

“Stay with her. If I were you, I wouldn’t leave that house. ”

You were still so in shock from the news about your Haena’s father that it suddenly dawned on you that he had figured out where you were without you ever telling him. 

“How did you know I was here?”

“Someone reported a large gathering of students at the Jeon house on the scanner. I had a feeling you would be there.” His answer was a shock to you, not expecting anyone to know about the party as it was out on the edge of town.

“O-okay, I better go warn everyone...”

“YN?” You held in your breath as you waited for him to continue, unease crawling into your system at his pause. “Be careful.”

For him to sound so concerned for you only heightened your paranoia, quickly walking back into the main room where everyone was. Jungkook was sprawled out on the couch now along with Jin and Hobi, throwing his head back at something the latter had said. You shakily placed the phone back on the stand.

“Jungkook, I need to talk to you.” You were surprised your voice was so steady, his big eyes meeting yours as he took in your expression.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He joked, standing up to meet you behind the couch.

“Kim Namjoon just called me,” You felt your stomach flip as you held the back of the couch for support. “Sheriff Lee was murdered.”

You had tried to be discreet about it but your shock must have garnered enough attention, gasps sounding around the room as they all picked up on what you had revealed.

“Holy shit, I’m getting out of here.”

There was a chorus of responses as people started to make themselves scarce, clearly not in the mood for a party anymore. The only ones that stayed were Hobi and Jin, either not concerned enough about the killer or not brave enough to leave the house. You weren’t sure which group you belonged to but you knew you had to find Haena. You looked up at Jungkook, who was staring at the carpet with a serious expression on his face and biting his lip.

“Where’s Haena?” It was like he almost didn’t hear you until you shook his shoulder. “Jungkook?”

“Um, she went to get more beer-” He blinked a few times, waving his arm behind him. “Garage.”

You walked quickly around the house, trying to find the correct door to the garage. When you finally did, it was pitch black save for some light coming in from the opened garage door. You almost turned back as it was clear there was no one in here before something made you stop. There was no noise, no movement but you felt like something was in here.

Your hand sought out the light, switching it on and blinking as it flicked a few times before brightening up the room. Your gaze flitted around, almost giving up before you saw something dark and red that made you flinch backwards. 

There was a piercing scream and you felt the ground beneath you move, your ass hitting the wooden step hard. It wasn’t long before thundering steps came behind you, stopping as they hit your back. Your ears, seemingly filled with water with how muted everything seemed, caught a few more gasps and screams. Hands gripped you under your armpits, pulling you up over the steps and back into the hallway.

After that, everything was a blur of commotion. You were vaguely aware of people yelling around you but it wasn’t until Hobi crouched down, waving his hand in front of your face that you felt alert again.

“I think she’s in shock,” He relayed to the others.

“YN?” Taehyung’s voice sounded from the other end of the hallway, his expression bewildered as he approached quickly. “I heard screaming.”

“Jesus, where have you been Tae?” Jin asked.

“Having a smoke,” Hobi moved out of the way so Taehyung could kneel before you, bringing his hands to your cheeks and analyzing your face closely. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Haena...”

“Go find Jungkook,” Tae instructed the older two.

Hobi groaned, “Why do we have to keep splitting up? This is what the killer wants!”

Jin smacked him behind his head, angling his head towards your shell shocked figure. “Shut up, would you?”

The two of them walked off, bickering quietly as they went. Taehyung sat with you silently as you stayed in the same position, wiping away any tears that escaped. You stared at the floor as your mind raced with a million thoughts, not a single one sticking long enough for you to linger on.

How could this happen so fast? You had just seen Haena in the kitchen talking to Jungkook. Everything was fine. You couldn’t have been gone from her for more than thirty minutes and yet so much had changed. It didn’t make any sense.

First Sheriff Lee, now Haena. The killer was getting closer. No, the killer was already here. It couldn’t have been Jungkook, Hobi, or Jin. They had all been with you.

But...

“Taehyung?” He looked up at you, surprised to hear your voice finally. He leaned in, reaching a hand out to brush your hair back but you shied away. He reared back in shock, his expression confused as he met your suspicious one.

“What?”

“You were... smoking? For thirty minutes?” Your voice was unsure as you questioned him, sounding stuffed up from all the crying.

“Yes, wh-” The sound of screaming from outside interrupted him. You shot up from your spot, running towards the front door where it came from. “Wait, YN! Don’t!”

You ignored him as you threw open the door; you needed to stop any more evil from happening. You had already lost so much in your life. Enough was enough.

The sight of Hobi’s bloody body laying on the front steps had you freezing in your tracks, feeling Taehyung’s chest collide with your back a moment later. The two of you stared in shock before you became aware of the violent tussle happening further out in the yard. It was hard to make it out but it looked like Jungkook and Jin were fighting. What the hell had happened? You were guessing this was Jungkook’s fight-or-flight response to finding out about Haena.

“Stay right here,” Taehyung spoke softly to you as he brushed past you, walking around Hobi’s battered body and approaching the two other boys with a calmness you didn’t quite understand.

The further he went out, the harder it was to make out who was who especially as they moved between bushes and trees. You felt anxious and stupid as you just stood there, your feet itching to move out and help them but not knowing if it was a smart idea.

“YN,” A voice coughed out from below you, a gasp escaping as you fell to your knees where Hobi was laying. You had been so distracted by the fight that you almost forgot he was there.

“What happened?” You asked urgently, grabbing one of his hands and squeezing.

He choked a bit, blood spraying out onto his lips and neck. “Don’t trust them.” He gave your hand one last squeeze, meeting your eyes as if to make the message stronger. You watched in concern as he closed his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. He was still alive but he wasn’t doing well. He needed medical care immediately.

“YN! Get inside now!” Your head flew up to see Taehyung underneath Jin, the two of them fighting over something shiny and sharp-looking between them as what looked like Jungkook was passed out next to them.

Your gaze flew back and forth from them to Hobi’s unconscious face, trying to figure out who to believe. You took a deep breath and ran back inside, locking the door behind you as you ran for the phone. You hit redial, hoping it would direct you to Namjoon. You never thought you could ever cry with relief at hearing his voice.

“YN? Are you okay?”

“Namjoon, tell the police the boys must have snapped or something, I don’t know. But Haena’s dead and we need help.” The words flew out of you so fast you weren’t even sure what all you said, hoping you got the message across as you huffed.

The line went silent at that, and you held your breath as you waited for a response. But there was nothing - just dead air.

“Hello? Namjoon?” You tried again, pulling the phone away before you realized the line was dead. Someone had cut the lines. “Shit.”

Just then, a sudden banging could be heard from the front door followed by desperate shouts of your name. You ran over to it, ready to unlock the door when you hesitated with your hand on the lock.

“Who’s there?”

“YN, let me in! Hurry!” The urgency in Jin’s voice made you throw open the door, gasping when you saw him covered in blood with a knife in his hand.

“Jin, what-”

“Don’t let him in, YN! He attacked me!” Jungkook suddenly appeared behind him, a deep cut on his cheek that hadn’t been there before. 

You looked between Jungkook and Jin, trying to decipher who to believe but not finding any conclusive evidence. To be honest, when you saw them out in the yard before, it was hard to tell who had even started the fight. And now seeing them both with blood on them, you felt at a loss. All you knew was people were dying and someone had cut the phone lines. You didn’t know who you could trust.

“Fuck, I can’t.” You slammed the door as quickly as you could, locking it again. The banging and shouting continued.

“Help me! He’s gone crazy!”

You stood there for a few moments, palms still on the door as you willed your racing heart to calm down. Tonight had been nonstop crazy and you couldn’t remember the last time it was at a resting rate. Before you could turn around, a pair of hands landed on your shoulders and ruined any chance of your heartbeat slowing down any time soon. You shrieked as you turned around, not expecting to see Taehyung standing behind you. 

“Shh, it’s just me.”  He shushed you, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you down. 

“Wh- how did you get in here?” You hadn’t seen him outside just now.

“I came in through the back. Are you okay?” He checked over your body, fingers brushing over the visible skin on your face and arms.

“I’m fine but Tae, where have you been all night?” Your exasperated tone caught him off guard, a somber look coating his features as he regarded you. “I’m getting really freaked out.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run off like that. I’ve just been trying to protect you.” His words didn’t make any sense but you weren’t thinking clearly enough to dissect what he meant.

The banging grew louder and Taehyung moved to open it. The roles were reversed this time as you shook your head at him, silently urging him not to let anyone in. Your fingers gripped the sleeve of his sweater anxiously. He turned to look at you, his hand coming up to cover yours on his arm.

“It’s okay. You can trust me.” He nodded at you with a small smile, and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The door swung open to reveal Jungkook standing there looking out of breath, but his face lit up when he saw you standing there with Taehyung. A grin broke out across his face, “The gang’s all here!”

You could only watch in confusion as Jungkook stepped in in the same move that Taehyung backed you up with him. Jungkook shut the door behind him looking gleeful as ever. You looked at Taehyung who had a serious look on his face but you recognized a glint of something in his eye, almost like he had just won a bet or something.

“What’s going on?” You asked, stepping back cautiously from them. The energy had changed drastically and you didn’t like it one bit.

Taehyung eyed you like you were a scared animal, holding his hands out as if to placate you. His gaze was locked on yours and you almost felt like he could read your thoughts, anticipating your next move before you could even do it.

“Surprise, YN.” Jungkook smirked at you, looking far too elated right now to have just lost his girlfriend.

Your eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them before you spun around, racing toward the kitchen to find something you could defend yourself with. Although you had no proof, you knew it was them. Taehyung and Jungkook were the killers. You didn’t have time to feel heartbroken and betrayed. Your only thought right now was survival.

Before you could get far, arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you back towards a firm chest. You eyed the knife block longingly - so close. Taehyung held you tightly to his front, turning the two of you around so you were backed up against the counter. Jungkook leered from across the room looking like a dangerous predator.

“Why are you doing this?” You cried, hot tears streaming down your face.

“I already told you. I’m protecting you.” Taehyung explained as if it was the most obvious thing.

“By killing all my family and friends? You’re fucking crazy!” Your voice grew louder, unable to feel shy about getting angry despite being caught in a murderer’s arms.

Taehyung was a murder. Your soft, loving, artsy boyfriend was a cold-blooded killer. This was a nightmare; this couldn’t be real.

“Yes, I am crazy, but only for you. I would do anything for you, YN.”

“You’ll never get away with this.”

Jungkook chuckled, “Tell that to Min Yoongi. You wouldn’t believe how easy he was to frame.”

“What did you have against my brother?” There was a lot to unpack here but this was the question you had been wondering for a whole year.

“Your brother wasn’t the picture perfect star quarterback everyone believed him to be. He had a bad habit of date raping girls from other schools, including my cousin.” Taehyung answered for you, the lack of eye contact with him making him hard to read if what he was saying was true.

“You’re lying,” You hissed, trying desperately to break out of his arms.

“Why are you defending him? He was never nice to you.” Jungkook reminded you, his eyes calculating and cold. “Face it, YN. Your brother was a bad apple who got what was coming to him.”

“What do you have to gain from this?”

“Well, naturally, I wanted his spot on the team.” He grinned at you, flashing a perfect set of teeth. “It wasn’t hard for Taehyung to convince me once I realized what a piece of shit he was.”

“And Haena?” You glared at Jungkook. “How could you kill your own girlfriend?”

“I can’t take credit for that,” He nodded towards Taehyung behind you and you felt your body go still. “You saw me. I was here the whole night.”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Taehyung added, leaning his head on the space between your shoulder and your neck. “But I won’t lie. I hated sharing her with you all the time.”

“You’re okay with him murdering your girlfriend?”

“I liked Haena but she didn’t get me. She didn’t get you either.” Jungkook approached the two of you slowly, dark gaze zeroed in on your anguished expression. He reached out to caress your face, causing you to tense up as Taehyung straightened behind you. “You’re too good for her.”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung’s voice was rough as he motioned with his head towards another part of the kitchen. The two shared some sort of unspoken communication as something dawned on the other boy.

“Oh yeah! We got a surprise for you, YN.” Jungkook’s voice grew louder and more excited as he walked towards the hallway closet door. “You’re gonna love this. It’s a scream, baby.”

It didn’t take him long to retrieve what he was looking for, your eyes almost bulging out of your head as you saw who it was. “Dad!” He was tied up with tape around his mouth and a nasty cut on his forehead.

“See, YN? We got it all figured out, don’t worry.” Jungkook began, pulling the knife from his pants and stuffing it in your dad’s belt. “The cops are already onto him and now the evidence is all over him. Just one more thing to do.”

Leaving you no time to react, Jungkook pulled a gun from behind his pants and aimed it right at your father’s head, shooting him dead. You couldn’t help the scream that tore out of your lungs. You felt cold all over, like your body had disconnected from your brain. Vaguely, you registered Taehyung’s arms holding you steady as your knees buckled.

“He deserved it, YN.” Taehyung spoke so plainly about the murder of your father like it was just a harmless prank he had pulled, “He didn’t appreciate what he had. Deep down, we all know he blamed you for being the one that survived. He never loved you the way a father should.”

The harsh reality of his words hurt. It was like he was looking into your soul, into your deepest darkest feelings that you had tried to keep down for so long.

“We did you a favor.” Jungkook added, his dark stare penetrating you where you stood behind the kitchen island. “And he makes the perfect suspect, triggered by your brothers’ death anniversary, then goes on a killing spree and finally kills himself with the sheriff’s gun. It’s like it was meant to be.”

These two were insane, no doubt about it. They had seen too many scary movies and now they felt like they were invincible. You could practically feel the adrenaline running through Taehyung’s veins.

“And now what? I’m next?”

“Of course not,” Taehyung laughed, switching you around so that he cornered you into the kitchen counter. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring your deep cringe. “This has all been for you, baby.”

“Now, we finish what we started.”

Faster than you could blink, Taehyung swung at Jungkook, causing him to keel over. Red started pooling through the side of his shirt as he coughed into his hand, staining it with blood. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Tae, what the fuck?” Jungkook grunted, holding his side as he looked up at Taehyung in shock.

“I changed my mind. I don’t need a sidekick anymore.” Taehyung sneered, a venomous look on his face. “Thanks for all the help, buddy.”

Jungkook fell to the kitchen floor and Taehyung moved on top of him, stabbing him a few more times for good measure. In his bloodlust frenzy, he failed to notice that he had turned his back on you. Not only that, but the gun in Jungkook’s hand was now within reach of you.

You wasted no time in falling to your knees to grab it, quickly standing up and aiming it at the back of his head. Taehyung froze, still not facing you but somehow already figuring out his mistake. It was a foolish move on his part but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

“Don’t move.” You spoke clearly, trying to keep your hand steady.

He didn’t listen to you though, moving slowly and carefully as he got off of Jungkook. He turned around with his hands raised, eyes wide as he stared at you. “YN, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I said don’t move!” You yelled, your fingers trembling. You had never even held a gun before and now here you were aiming it at the love of your life.

“I know you don’t understand right now but you have to know: I did it all for you. So that we could be closer. I never meant to hurt you.” The sight of him inching further set you off, giving you the motivation you needed to pull the trigger.

“Goodbye, Taehyung.” You closed your eyes, not wanting to see the image of the light draining from his eyes.

It was over.

*****

Months later, you were relieved to find that life had seemed to calm down after that horrible night full of evil and bloodshed. You had suffered and lost so many people you loved. Much like a year before, only this time you felt somewhat hopeful for the future. Death couldn’t follow you around anymore like a bad curse; the evil was dead and gone from your life. It was the only thing keeping you going.

That and having a positive influence in your life, like for example Namjoon. He was the first to find you there at the Jeon house after getting your phone call but never receiving your message due to the phones being tampered with. You were lying on the kitchen floor, covered in blood and still in shock over everything. He had been so helpful, urging you to call 911 on his cell phone while he checked to see if Hobi and Jin were still somehow alive - which by some miracle, they were. They had sustained serious injuries and were lucky to be alive, each spending quite some time in the hospital and then physical therapy after that. You visited them almost every day.

It had been hard, dealing with the survivor’s guilt. Losing your entire family, best friend, and boyfriend (even though he had been the cause of it all) had done some serious damage to your mental health. And despite all the therapy you had been receiving and would continue to receive, you knew it would never completely be healed. But that was okay. In your mind, you deserved some kind of scar from the whole ordeal since you hadn’t suffered any physical injuries. Several of your friends were dead or badly hurt - you could deal with it if not for yourself, then for them.

The best part about it was being able to exonerate Yoongi. To finally be able to see some emotion from him on the day the judge ruled him not guilty had been life changing. Yoongi had always been such a calm guy and never blamed you for the year of his life wasted behind bars. You wanted desperately to make it up for him but didn’t know how you possibly could. Namjoon assured you that you had done enough but the guilt never seemed to go away.

Namjoon and you had started to develop more of a friendly relationship, something you had never expected to come out of this. But after all the conflict was gone, it was much easier to see each other’s point of view. And the truth was, he had always been right.

“Got any plans this weekend?” Namjoon asked as he poured some sugar into his coffee before taking a sip.

“Not sure,” you began, taking a breath as you thought it over. “I got invited to an end-of-year party but I’m not sure if I should go. Feels too soon.”

“Oh, you should definitely go. It’s not as soon as you think.” He responded encouragingly, sounding like a big brother.

“I just don’t see what there’s to celebrate about.” You shrugged, meeting his gaze.

“There’s plenty to celebrate! How about surviving a tragic murder spree, exonerating an innocent man, finishing up a school year?” You didn’t look convinced, so he tried again, “Come on, I think it would be good for you to get out. You shouldn’t stay in that big house by yourself all the time.”

“You sound like my therapist.” You rolled your eyes at him, stirring the tea in your cup mindlessly.

“Well, you sound like a petulant child.” He chuckled.

You opened your mouth to retort, eyes flying up to look at him when something in the distance caught your eye. Your body felt cold, frozen up as you stared at the familiar figure. Dark black mop of hair covered his face, baggy sweater and jeans on his frame. You blinked a few times but he didn’t move at all. It didn’t make any sense. 

“YN? What is it?” Namjoon waved a hand in your face, distracting you from whatever it was you just saw.

“Huh?” You asked, blinking at Namjoon before glancing back at where he stood before. Only now, there was nobody in sight. You cleared your throat as your gaze fell back on the man before you, “Uh, nothing.”

“You looked like you saw a ghost.” He laughed, eyebrows furrowing at you in a concerned manner.

“Yeah, right.” You shook your head. There was no such thing.

I’ll always love you, YN. I’ll never leave you.

*****

A/N: i'm baaaack! ngl i'm proud of myself for getting this one done bc it was a whopper. i really hoped you liked it! scream is one of my fave scary movies so i've always wanted to make an AU for it. ty for reading and pls lmk what you think!!

[goldenversekook]

OFF LIMITS

Part 5: “Yours”Pairing: Jungkook × Reader (Y/N)Genre: Angst | Fluff | Secret Romance | HealingRating: 🔞 18+ (mature themes, emotional intimacy, soft smut)

It had been three days since your brother found out.

Three days of silence. No calls. No texts.Just a gaping hole where your relationship used to be.

Jungkook had given you space. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t crowded you—just left you in his apartment with blankets, takeout, and gentle kisses when you needed them. He knew you were hurting.

So was he.

You were lying in his bed, his hoodie drowning your body, staring at the ceiling when he walked in with two mugs of tea.

He handed you one and sat beside you, quiet for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, but your voice cracked. “I miss him.”

“I know.”

You set your mug down. “He’s not just my brother, Jungkook. He’s always been… my best friend too.”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“And I took that from you,” he said, guilt in his voice. “I should’ve never let it go this far without talking to him. I just—”

You tilted your head up. “I don’t regret this.”

He looked at you, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“I miss him,” you whispered. “But I don’t regret you. Not for a second.”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “I swear I’d do it all differently if I could. I’d ask him first. I’d make it right.”

You smiled sadly. “We can’t undo it.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But we can move forward.”

You paused. “How?”

Jungkook took a deep breath. “Let me show you something.”

He got up, reached into his drawer, and pulled out a small black box.

Your heart skipped.

He handed it to you—not dramatic, not flashy, just him being real.

Inside was a simple silver chain with a charm: a tiny letter “J.”

“I was gonna wait,” he said, watching your face. “But screw it. I want you to know I’m serious. This isn’t just hooking up or sneaking around. I’m yours. If you want me.”

Your throat tightened. You looked up at him, eyes shining. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Jungkook leaned in, kissing you slowly—different from the hungry, reckless kisses before. This one was soft, full of unspoken promises.

You ended up back in bed, limbs tangled under the sheets, his body warm and grounding on top of yours. His hands explored like he was learning you all over again—not rushed, not desperate. Just… real.

“I love you,” he whispered as he slid into you, holding your face in his hands. “Even if the whole world’s against us. You’re mine.”

You pulled him closer, your voice breaking. “I’m yours, Jungkook. All of me.”

You moved together slowly, like this was the first time. And maybe it was.

The first time with nothing to hide.

Later, as you lay against his chest, his fingers tracing soft lines on your back, you whispered:

“What if he never forgives us?”

Jungkook kissed your forehead. “Then I’ll keep showing him that loving you didn’t mean betraying him.”

You exhaled.

You weren’t sure how long it would take to fix things—but for now, you had each other. And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ BBYDADDY SERIES!⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

kimiverse msgs / blurbs

+

co-parents that fuck <3

« .𖥔 ݁ ˖ TRIVIA: LOVE // OT7 ⋆｡𖥔 »

genres: fluff, crack, smut & angst

note: only my permanent taglist is applicable for this series

๋࣭ ⭑bbydaddy!jk ๋࣭ ⭑

exes au ; *nsfw* | ongoing

(1) // (2) // (3) // (4) // (5) // (6) // (7) // (8) // (9) // (10) // (11) // (12) // (13) // (14) // (15) // (16) // (17) // (18) // (19) // (20) end

continuation ;

(21) // (22) // (23) // (24) // (25) // (26) // (27) // (28) // (29) // (30)

+ jk’s birthday

+ facetime call

+ goodnight kisses

+ future

+ new parents

+ new parents (texts)

... TBA

๋࣭ ⭑bbydaddy!yoongi ๋࣭ ⭑

accidental pregnancy au ; *nsfw* | ongoing

(1) // (2) // (3) // (4) // (5) // (6) // (7) // (8) // (9) // (10) // (11) // (12) // (13) // (14) // (15) // (16) // (17) // (18) // (19) // (20) end

continuation ; roughly 1 year later

(21) // (22) // (23) // (24) // (25)

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you. 

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face. 

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter. 

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place. 

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names? 

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key. 

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung. 

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet? 

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this. 

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa. 

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with.  The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds. 

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence. 

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her? 

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly. 

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics. 

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered. 

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn. 

Someone passes him another. 

Someone else claps him on the back. 

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element. 

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is? 

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking. 

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump. 

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often. 

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..." 

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless. 

He's right. 

You do hate this. 

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be. 

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here." 

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it. 

The other one is… 

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head. 

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter. 

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall. 

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling. 

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him. 

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making. 

And he's admitting it. 

Voluntarily. 

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom. 

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect. 

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor. 

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room. 

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately. 

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish. 

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention. 

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief. 

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment. 

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid." 

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you. 

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual. 

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks. 

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier. 

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice? 

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball. 

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining. 

In small doses. 

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you. 

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure. 

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious. 

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food. 

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it. 

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue. 

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it. 

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest. 

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you. 

Good for him. 

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing. 

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise. 

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food. 

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table. 

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes. 

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters. 

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused. 

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size. 

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics. 

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly. 

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant. 

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion. 

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen. 

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol. 

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions. 

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination. 

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver. 

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty. 

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued. 

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower. 

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern. 

He knows you shouldn’t drink that. 

You know you shouldn’t drink that. 

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink. 

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

goal: 600 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[aajjks]

The Devil Wears Glasses (m)

Synopsis. you were a bitch and he was your puppy.

Pairing: jungkook x Reader

Genre: bully au, mature. Fluff, angst.

warnings: sêxǔäl thèmès, YÂNDÈRÈ, dïrty thêmês, büllyïng, másôchïst kôôk, mâtürè thèmès, jèálôúsy, pôsèssïvènèss, pröfânïty.

note. OH MY GOD GUYS I JUST KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE HIM. HE’S SO UNPREDICTABLE AND THERE’S A HUGE SURPRISE SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT. ;) you can send asks for him, so let’s welcome a new jk into the multi.

You are such a bitch.

Oh you are the bitchiest person to ever grace this planet. How can you be so insensitive? You are heartless.

You deserve to burn in the deep flames of hell. Do you even have a heart? Were you even a human at this point? You could be a witch. Oh! Yes, that must be it, because...

You have got him tranced.

What does he even see in you? Jungkook is not sure, You are only a pretty face, with a hot smokin body, But that was about it.

He should hate your guts because he hates people like you.

Because you are a bully.

And he is a sweetheart. An innocent young man. While? You are the spawn of the devil. There you stand right in front of him, Jungkook fixes his glasses, feeling so nervous.

His heart is thumping, so loud.

“Puppy!” You call out to him, his eyes widen, you’re right in front of him and his mind is going blank. He stands tall over you, but you’re the one who is in control.

It’s so obvious and ironic.

You’re so pretty. And that cruel smile on your face, is making his pants grow tighter. Fuck, you’re not supposed to have this effect on him.

“P-Please don’t pity me.” He utteres in a small voice. You raised your eyebrow as your “friend” giggles.

“Oh, aren’t you a little masochist, puppy?” You coo at him, leaning in and whispering the words in his ears. He shudders, goosebumps on his neck. A sadistic laugh leaves your lips. Your eyes fall on his face.

Red as a tomato.

He seems to be lost as you trail your freshly manicured fingers on his rather hard chest. Your finger stops for a moment, can’t believe that you’re feeling his chest up.. right in front of your friend.

Yes, he works out.. it’s important.

Your touch feels so good- oh, someone help him.

He looks up in surprise, his doe eyes widen as he closes his eyes and whimpers quietly. “God.. this is all? A simple touch is all that’s needed to bring out the sick bastard in you?”

Your tone is mocking, cold.

He bites his lip, your words are crude but so true.

“You better complete the project, jungkook. Or else.” You spit in sarcasm, your eyes hardening, his heart flutters, He is pathetic.

He quickly nod. “y-yes I will, Y-Y-Y/N!!! I-I promise, p-please don’t get angry with m-me....” he pouts as you roll your eyes and leave him alone with your friend.

He watches with heart eyes as you walk towards the other direction of the school hallway with your minion.

God. You have such a bouncy ass, and such pretty legs. He blushes shamelessly, watching you move, his sudden lewd thoughts that surround his mind are making him feel a little embarrassed,

But you’re just so perfect.

You’ve got a perfect body, And a worth dying for laugh too?

Your laugh makes him weak in the knees. No, just a glance from you is all it takes to make him fall on his knees.

The way you walk, and the way that your hips sway make his mouth water. He stands still on his spot as his hand finds itself touching his chest, where you touched him.

He smiles, You touched him!!! Again! Was it the third time or fourth? He needed to know!!! He needed to write it down.

He needed to! But.. first, he needed to give you the already completed project. He smirks.

He turns to walk where you are now.

Slowly and cautiously.

...he feels like a really bad boy for lying to you... but as much as he deserves to be punished.. he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

And also... if he didn’t lie then how would he get to see your pretty face and feel your touch? And listen to you cuss him.

God.. that turns him on so much.

Your pretty mouth saying such dirty words... he gulps quickly. His throat is getting dry.

But he adores it the most when you called him puppy.

That was so romantic!! It was such a lovely term of endearment. His heart flutters abnormally when you called him that.

He is your puppy. “gah, I love her so much.” He gushes to himself as he walkea slowly. “She’s so lovely.. I’m going crazy.” He breathes. Walking so carelessly, lost in his fantasies as he bumped into a person.

It was yunho.

His right hand man. Jungkooks face does a complete 180 change, now, jaw clenched and his eyes... hard. “Watch where you’re going, fucker. This was the First and last time. I’ll fucking shoot you next time.” He growls in a dangerously low tone.

Making sure that you can’t hear him.

Yunho eyes widen with fear. “I-I am so sorry Sir but... this was important..” he stutters. Looking down at the floor. The weight of jungkooks murderous eyes on him is making him regret every single decision in his life.

Jungkook looks around to see that the whole hall was finally empty. Everyone has gone to their classes, even you, he scoffs in annoyance.

This fucker is going to die.

“Spit.”

“W-We found him. The guy you asked for...”

Jungkook smirks. “Great.” at least now he will get to get his frustrations out on someone, he doesn’t exactly appreciate your stupid bitchy attitude, but- you manage to get him hard so.

Oh today is really a great day, Now he could finally be his real self. He’s getting tired of hiding to you, of course. It’s just been awhile since he got to kill someone.

He loves being always be your ever so loyal puppy, but now it’s about time he makes you his bitch.

But to the underworld. He was Jeon Jungkook.

The biggest fucking gang leader of South Korea.

Jungkook fixes his glasses once again, these glasses are fucking annoying- he needs to take them off- his eyesight is perfectly fine, but he looks cute in them like you said-

“where is my fucking homework?” He asks.

He only does your homework, and his people do his, sometimes he’s not sure what the fuck he’s doing.

he doesn’t even understand what he’s doing here because he doesn’t need to study. He just needs to take care of the business, but ever since you caught his eye when he was visiting this University, since his mother had insisted.

He wanted to be with you.

“I-I have it in my bag!”

“Fuck off now.” He growls, and Yunho doesn’t need to be told twice.

Oh, the things Jungkook does for you. It’s OK.. once he has you? You are going to find out about everything. Just a little bit more.

You were just the spawn of the devil. But he was the fucking devil himself.

[comfortkoo]

broken vows - teaser

Yn thought her marriage to Jungkook was stable, until the lies started unraveling. Late nights. Hidden texts. A woman named Jamy.

What began as suspicion turns into undeniable truth when Y/N discovers explicit messages, hotel receipts, and videos of Jungkook with his co-worker. The betrayal is brutal, but worse than the affair is Jungkook's complete lack of remorse. He doesn't apologize. Instead, he flaunts how good Jamy makes him feel—how thrilling, wild, and unforgettable she is.

In the face of his cold honesty and shameless lust, Y/N chooses silence, then strength. She follows. She watches. She hears every filthy word—and still, she stands.

But when Jungkook finally confesses he doesn’t regret a thing, even boasting about how he loves being inside someone else, Y/N realizes: the man she married is gone. This isn’t about forgiveness—it’s about survival.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Drabble Series

"I'd rip anything off you,"

“Y/n, are you still mad at me?” Junkook’s breathless voice echoes in the men’s washroom as the two of you exit the tiny stall. Chest heaving up, you run your fingers through your curls before wiping the smeared lipstick off of your face. 

“Why would I be? Mhm? I looove the sight of my ripped dress on the dirty floor,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as your arms fold over your chest which was left covered by the mere fabric of the lacy bra. Just a few minutes ago, you were so immersed in the pleasure of Jungkook’s slender fingers that it took you a good second to realize why you could suddenly feel the cool breeze all over your body. 

“To be fair, I’d rip anything off you,” he says softly, hands inching closer to your waist as his broad shoulders cage your form under him. Arms on either side of you, he leans closer, tilting his head to the side to meet your furrowed gaze before noticing the goosebumps covering your soft skin. 

“Koo …” you whisper, placing your hands on his blazer as his sly smirk slowly softens looking down at your doe eyes. It doesn’t take much for him to fold, just the innocence in your gaze is enough of a motive for him to lift your body onto the countertop. And, as your legs naturally spread apart, the tiny space between you two welcomes him in, as if reserved solely for his touch. 

“I’m sorry baby, you know I don’t do too well with sundresses,” Jungkook mumbles, tucking a few stray curls behind your ear before giving your pouty lips a quick peck. 

“Well, now what? I’m literally naked,” you chuckle from the disbelief, leaning back on the stained mirror. For some context, tonight is your friend’s big gallery exhibition and Jungkook was supposed to be your plus one. But now, it seems like the only exhibition the two of you came to watch is your own mirror sex. To be quite frank, you’re not even sure how it all escalated to this. One second the two of you were arguing about who was more artistically gifted and the next you watched him pin your arms over your head as his thrusts gradually increased in speed. 

“Fine by me. Just the way I like it,” Jungkook says with a grin, nibbling on his lip rings as his eyes scan his favourite canvas. 

“Koo, I’m serious. I can’t go out like this in front of all our friends,” you snap him out of it before slightly pushing him off of you. 

“Here, put this on,” he says, handing you his blazer. “Now, we’re even,” a teasing chuckle escapes his parted lips as he unbuttons his black dress shirt, exposing his sculpted chest and the silver chain that would usually dangle over you. 

“I’m not sure how this is supposed to help us hide the fact that we just fucked,” 

“Who said I wanted to hide it?” Jungkook replies with a sly wink before opening the door, eyes following your every move as his blazer covered just enough of your skin to eliminate possible suspicion. As far as everyone else is concerned, this is a fashion statement. 

“I would lay you down on top of this piano if you’d let me. Listen to the echoes of your pretty moans bounce off the brick walls, giving these people the pleasure of some real live music,” the sound of his raspy voice dragging behind shifts your attention back to your needy boyfriend as you turn around to see him manspreading on the wooden piano bench. 

“What an intriguing offer, unfortunately, all you do is talk, pretty boy,” you tease, as the sound of your heels inching closer to him adds to the heated tension. 

“Don’t do that, y/n,” 

“Do what?” 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” his hooded eyes shoot up, hands tracing circles on your exposed thighs. 

“I think I’ll be just fine,” 

“I know you will. I’m more concerned about myself. When it comes to you I seem to lose all control,” 

“Oh? I’m sorry?” you attempt to act shocked, blinking your naive eyes as to create an image of pure innocence. 

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook scoffs, jerking his head back, and pulling you onto his lap as your lips rest inches apart. 

“I’m not. I like the taste of dominance,” you give into a quick peck before straddling his thighs, earning a slight hiss.  

“And, I like the taste of you. To each their own, I guess,” Jungkook mumbles the last part before pulling you into a deep kiss. Tongues fighting for the said dominance, the space between your heaving bodies is no longer apparent. And, as your hands trail up his warm chest you could feel him smirk into the kiss, his grip tightening around your waist.

“Koo,” you manage to let out a hitched breath before cupping his face which was busy leaving trails of purple marks on your collarbone. 

“Do we have to go back? We can put on our own show at home. I’ll be the artist and you can be my muse, mhm? How does that sound?” he virtually pleads, eyes sparkling under the dim lights of the hall. 

“No way one sundress got you this needy,” you can’t help but giggle, gaze softening at his vulnerable state.  

“You could walk out wearing a sack of potatoes and I’d still beg on my knees,” 

“What will you do if we break up?” you ask hushedly, caressing his soft hair. 

“Oh, there’s no breaking up, baby. I’m too consumed now,” Jungkook grins, sneaking his hands under your blazer before earning a soft yelp from your parted lips. 

“And what if I’m not?” you say teasingly, slowly straddling your hips back and forth, innocent eyes locked on his darkened gaze. Of course, you are, but what’s the fun in admitting your weakness? 

“You’re not?” he asks, smirking at the way your mouth slights parts as his thumb rubs circles over your throbbing heat. You might be his weakness but you also stand no chance when his possessive side takes over. 

“I said if,” you whisper, chest heaving up from the suffocating tension. 

“I’ll make sure you are. Make sure you’re mine,”

Don't Get Attached Masterlist

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened. 

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit. 

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind: 

Are you going to come home? 

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you. 

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing. 

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile. 

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.” 

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause. 

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight. 

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you. 

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest. 

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head. 

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back. 

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out. 

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.” 

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“ 

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch. 

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while. 

“In a tree?” 

“In a tree,” you confirm. 

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.” 

“Were you?” you smile. 

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look. 

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties. 

“This,” he emphasizes. 

“Oh.” 

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider. 

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.” 

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t. 

“I think you forget too quickly that  I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win. 

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you. 

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening. 

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands. 

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you. 

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes. 

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands. 

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.” 

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.” 

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off. 

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much. 

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.  

“Oh. Okay.”  Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this. 

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.” 

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.” 

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.” 

Jimin chuckles at that. 

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm. 

“Of course.” 

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.” 

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?  

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond. 

“A toy?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch. 

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”  

The answer is easy. “Yes.” 

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.” 

“I want to be your toy.” 

“Good.” He grins. 

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch. 

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it. 

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful. 

“Hmph.” 

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief. 

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black. 

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can see you dripping through them.” 

You warm at the implication.   

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself. 

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you. 

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you. 

“I’m—“ 

“You’ve soaked your panties through.” 

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you. 

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed. 

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker.  It’s delightful. 

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted. 

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more? 

He seems to notice your hesitation. 

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress.  You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what. 

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious. 

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.” 

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine. 

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out. 

“Oops. Got a little caught up.” 

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?” 

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.” 

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure. 

“So needy. So desperate.” 

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.” 

“Don’t good toys say please?” 

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you. 

“Sir?” 

“I—I… It just slipped out!” 

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“  

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away. 

“Patience, kitten.” 

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,”  loud and clear. He laughs at your expression. 

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin. 

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him. 

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.  

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.” 

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck. 

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva. 

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in. 

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too. 

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight. 

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”  

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up. 

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back. 

But then his eyes flicker away from yours. 

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.” 

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white. 

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming. 

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you. 

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.  

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.” 

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?” 

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.” 

You huff. 

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” 

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp. 

“Wha—” 

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.” 

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Shit. I forgot.” 

“I know you forgot.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.” 

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them. 

 “I should remind you why I asked you to do this?” 

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin. 

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. 

“There’s knowing you do it for me.” 

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh. 

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.” 

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily. 

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?” 

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?” 

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face. 

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.” 

“Maybe they should.” 

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door. 

“Hoseok—” 

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other. 

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks. 

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.” 

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?” 

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”  

“Let me get dressed.” 

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.  

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.” 

Hoseok coughs. 

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.” 

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.” 

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk. 

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Asshole.” 

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless. 

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.” 

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