#jk I’m absolutely seething | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ugh-yoongi · 3 years ago

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love.fm | knj

⟶ pairing: namjoon x f.reader

⟶ trope/au: estranged lovers | radio host

⟶ genre: angst, fluff, comedy

⟶ rating: mature

⟶ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, lots of feelings about a previous breakup, jk is a shithead but we love him, ambiguous but hopeful ending. not much else, this is pretty tame aside from the swearing.

⟶ wordcount: 12.4k

⟶ summary: you know three things for certain: jeon jeongguk will do anything to inconvenience you, kim seokjin is an absolute bastard for putting you in charge of the station’s holiday show, and you’ve got a lot of regrets about the way your relationship ended. however, you also know spending the last two years on your own has done you some good. you’ve got a new haircut, an apartment with a bay window, and a rescue dog.

there’s also the stranger who keeps writing into the station about regrets of their own. the stranger whose prose feels so familiar. the stranger who leaves you wondering if things with your ex are quite as resolved as you think.

⟶ dialogue prompt: "i'm still there, in our house... it's lonely there without you. i never realized how lost i'd be with you gone, how empty our home could feel. i finally understand how you felt."

⟶ event: written for the resolution revolution collab, hosted by ash @jimilter and amelia @knjsnoona. thank you both for letting me participate! ❤

⟶ a/n: ahh, it’s finally here! i’ve been working on this on and off since the beginning of october. i guess i can’t seem to stay away from those exes to lovers fics, eh? this will require some suspension of disbelief but i hope you all will enjoy it anyway. please let me know what you think! feedback/reblogs/etc. are always appreciated and welcomed!

Ben Franklin once said there are only two certainties in life: death and taxes.

You’d like to add a third: that every year, without fail, on the day after Thanksgiving, you can always find Jeon Jeongguk hogging the staff microwave.

It’s the busiest day of the year for you, and every year, without fail, your half-hour break is always halved because Jeongguk is hogging the microwave. Most people would adapt, having sensed a theme, but not you. No, you’re stubborn, and instead of packing a lunch that doesn’t require reheating, you find a better use of your time to be lecturing a kid fresh out of college about proper office etiquette.

“Jeongguk,” you say, voice stern and exhausted, “honestly. This is absurd. There’s no way in hell you need to microwave whatever that is for ten minutes.”

“I do,” is all he says, not at all oblivious to your seething but choosing not to acknowledge it.

“You’re an asshole. Why do you do this every year? Why must you make me suffer?”

He turns to you, earrings twinkling under the fluorescent lighting of the staff kitchen, and smiles. It’s smug and taunting and far too pleased. It gives you heartburn. “Should’ve gotten here sooner. You know how much I love Thanksgiving leftovers.”

“Fuck off. You know I always take my break at this time. You saw me get up and ran in here so you could steal the microwave��”

Jeongguk squawks. “I did not!”

“You did so,” you insist, nose scrunched in indignation. “You saw me get up, ran into the hallway so you could cut in front of me, and then you shoulder-checked me into the wall like some kind of barbarian. There’s a dent! You posted it on TikTok!”

He snaps his mouth closed. “That doesn’t sound right. I’d never do something like that.”

With a scoff, you roll your eyes and pull out your phone to check the time. Seven minutes have ticked by. You pinch the bridge of your nose, try to steady your breathing. “I’m being serious. Nothing on earth needs to be microwaved for ten minutes.”

“Wow, what if I get worms and die because you made me eat raw turkey?”

“It’s not raw. It’s already been cooked.”

“To the appropriate internal temperature? You don’t know for a fact. I have to microwave it for ten minutes to kill off all potential bacteria.”

This is not a battle you’re going to win. Not against Jeongguk, anyway, because he takes great pride in being the world’s largest pain in the ass. Proctalgia, if you want to get technical about it, which you don’t, so you just huff and pay for a bottle of cold brew from the stocked refrigerators and grumble about why the station can afford weekly fresh food delivery but not a second microwave.

Truthfully, the microwave probably isn’t the issue. It’s just a scapegoat for the real problem: the holidays. Thanksgiving is stressful enough, because you’ve got to keep track of travel plans and takeoff and landing times and flight and gate numbers long before November even rolls around, not to mention all the extracurricular bullshit once you’re actually in the same city as your family. Then there’s keeping track of whose house to be at, when to be there, and what to have in hand once you are. Then, as if you haven’t suffered enough, you’ve got to deal with the mind-numbing conversations all your aunts and uncles and cousins rope you into, all while your brother gets to sit on the couch doing nothing as he nurses a beer.

Which is why you’d decided to pass on all of it this year.

Sure, spending the holiday alone was kind of a bummer, but traveling halfway across the country and taking a red eye back just for some turkey and mashed potatoes had stopped being worth it a long time ago.

(Two years ago, maybe.)

Because you’ve never been able to just enjoy it. Not ever, but especially not since you’d started working at the station, because they’d stuck you with the yearly holiday show once the old host retired. Santa-mental is the station’s pride and joy, raking in more advertising money than it sees the other ten months of the year combined, so there was no way they were going to let it die just because of a little retirement.

And it’s not like you hate it. True to its name, Santa-mental is just an excuse to expel all that pent-up festive energy and sentimentality. From Black Friday through the second of January, listeners call and write in to say what they’re thankful for, what their hopes are. Kids write letters to Santa and say what they hope to find under the tree on Christmas morning, and, thanks to all that advertising money, the station always mails back a neatly wrapped gift. On December 26th, the talk shifts to New Year’s resolutions, what changes people want to make in the upcoming year, what they hope will be different.

It’s exhausting, and it’s a lot of playing therapist, sometimes, because not everything is holiday cheer and light-up antler headbands and confetti from the ceiling when the clock strikes midnight, but you love it. Despite all the stress, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Which cannot be said for the motley crew you’re forced to work with.

In particular, one Kim Seokjin, who’s merely an older yet just as chaotic version of Jeongguk.

You’re barely back at your desk five minutes, half of your lunch still uneaten since someone decided to hog the microwave, when he corners you and Hoseok. “Ah, Hope and Joy, my favorite Santa-mental co-hosts!”

“We’re the only Santa-mental co-hosts,” Hoseok laughs, seemingly incapable of experiencing irritation. Hence why Seokjin had given him Hope as his on-air nickname without a modicum of irony. Yours, on the other hand…

You shove a forkful of stuffing into your mouth, trying not to cringe at how bland and rubbery it is. “What d’you want?”

“Impeccable manners as always,” Seokjin retorts. “I just came to check in since it’s the big day, see how everyone’s feeling. Are you sufficiently festive? Do I need to buy you two matching Christmas sweaters?”

You stare blankly back at him as you spear another piece of lukewarm stuffing. “You know what you can buy us? A second—”

“Wow, would you look at the time? You two are on in ten. Some of the sponsors for this year are new, so don’t forget to take a look at the final list. We’re already at 75% of our revenue goal and it’s not even December yet, so don’t fu—”

“Are any of those sponsors a microwave company?”

Seokjin just glares at you. “Don’t fuck it up,” he warns, “or else you’ll get coal in your stocking.”

Hoseok, the perpetual ray of resplendent sunshine that he is, smiles at you. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

With another roll of your eyes, you mumble something under your breath that suspiciously sounds a lot like I’m going to write a letter to Santa and ask for a fucking microwave before Hoseok drops the sponsor list in front of you. Three minutes until showtime, so you gather your things and make yourself comfortable in the studio, mentally preparing yourself for five more grueling weeks.

Then there’s the countdown, the red ON AIR light flickers to life, and you hear Hoseok’s cheerful, familiar voice through your headphones.

“Ho, ho, ho! It’s finally that time of year again…”

December arrives before you can blink, and with it comes the snow.

It used to be a welcomed sight. Used to bring a smile to your face every time you stepped outside and the world smelled earthy and crisp. Waking up and seeing everything under a blanket of white—there was nothing like it. Those days you used to crawl back into bed, feet covered in thick socks, a warm body to fit yourself against.

Those days are long gone. Now there’s a pinched frown instead of a smile. Everything smells stale. The disgusting, brown-tinged slush is nothing but a hindrance. You wake up cold and alone in a bed that’s too large for just you.

December used to come not only with snow, but magic, too.

It doesn’t feel magical anymore.

And that’s—well, it’s not great. There used to be so much joy and infectious happiness. You used to look forward to digging the decorations out of storage, to knocking the days off the advent calendar. You used to bake cookies and ice silly reindeers and snowmen on top, laughing so hard you’d cry at how horrible they looked. You used to pour a glass of wine and put on Christmas music as you stuck ornaments on the tree.

You don’t do any of that anymore. Not alone. Not without Namjoon.

Now you wake up cold and alone and there’s a split second, right as you wake up and aren’t fully conscious, in which you forget. A split second where you feel tacky and warm, where there’s a phantom body heat on the side of the bed that used to be his. And after you come to, after that dream is ripped away from you, you drag yourself out of bed and paint on a smile.

You go to work and you listen and you read and there’s a split second there, too, when you think this is it, this is the year all those holiday blues finally disappear, this is the year I’ll be okay.

Another dream that’s ripped away.

“Hey. You okay?”

Hoseok’s next to your desk, looking just as sunny as he sounds in a light-up sweater. HAVE A KOALA-TY CHRISTMAS! it says, right above a cartoon koala wearing a Santa hat.

You clear your throat, trying to remember what you’d been doing before devolving into yet another existential crisis. Oh, right—you’d been going through the comments on the station’s Facebook post (“What’s your holiday wish for this week? Comment below and we might make it come true!”), looking for anything you might be able to use for the show.

You’ll be taking it to your grave that I wish I didn’t have to shovel my driveway anymore!! was the post responsible for this downward spiral.

“Ah, yeah, I’m okay.” You hope your smile is convincing. Not likely, considering you’re trying to convince a professional smiler. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t push. Not right away, at least. He at least has the audacity to wait a whole fifteen seconds. “You sure? Did Jeongguk post something inappropriate on the Facebook page again?”

You snort. “Not yet. Although if he promises one more person a PS5 I’m gonna murder him.” You point at the screen and Hoseok leans in, his face so close he starts to go crosseyed. “Look. All this person said was ‘I hope my banana bread turns out good!’ and he offered to send them a fucking PlayStation.”

A trickle of laughter comes tumbling out of Hoseok’s mouth. He always tries not to, tries to heed all your warnings about not laughing at the shit Jeongguk does, but there’s only so much he can hold back. Today, the limit is apparently a banana bread PlayStation.

“I’ll take over the Facebook comments,” comes his solution. “Why don’t you check the emails?”

Hoseok’s gone as soon as you agree, just the remnants of his expensive cologne lingering in the air. Smells like one Namjoon used to wear, which is not a thought you should be thinking when you’re only seconds removed from a crisis. Some things can’t be helped, you reason, typing the station’s email address and password into the boxes.

[email protected]

dontgivethistojeongguk

Immediately, you sigh. Seventy-six emails, and that’s low for this time of year. Seventy-six is you getting off easy.

Most of them are some variations of the same: promotions, raises, holiday bonuses; a day off, a flight voucher, debt erased; spending time with family, seeing friends. Sometimes the contrasts make you dizzy. A college kid wishing to ace their finals at the same time a single parent wishes for enough money to buy their kid some toys. Sometimes it feels wrong, feels like Seokjin’s playing God, deciding who is and isn’t worthy. But you also know there’s worth here. You know what you do is silly but important. It helps people, even if it’s just Jeongguk blindly promising gaming consoles.

I wish organic chemistry didn’t exist, one says. You snort in agreement.

I wish I could afford a flight to visit my parents. You forward that one to Seokjin.

I wish Taco Bell was open 24/7.

On and on they go, sent at all hours of the night. Unsurprisingly, the one about Taco Bell came in just before three a.m., and you can only assume the sender hadn’t been entirely sober. Relatable. You’d spent many nights pining after unattainable fast food during your college career. Going one step further and writing into a radio station to pine further? Also relatable.

However, just below it, sent at two-sixteen a.m., is this:

[email protected] | I wish I could tell her I’m sorry.

It strikes you someplace deep—a place you’ve tried really hard not to acknowledge, because there isn’t much you wouldn’t give to hear those words from Namjoon. Which is silly. There’s two years’ worth of time and distance between you now, and no combination of words is going to erase it. Nothing’s going to undo what’s already happened.

Still.

You stare at those eight words for a long time. Long enough for them to blur around the edges. Long enough for the cursor to hover over the reply button. Long enough for the voice in your head—the one meant to tell you how bad of an idea this is—to go quiet.

In all the time you’ve done the show, you’ve never replied to an email. They either get forwarded to Seokjin or read on-air. Turning them into correspondences isn’t a thing, because god forbid Jeongguk ever got ahold of the password and turned hundreds of people into pen pals and formed weird parasocial relationships with them. And you’re not keen on doing that, either, but—

Why can’t you? you type. You need to know.

Before you can overthink it, you hit ‘send.’

After two years and one month, you’re still adjusting to living alone.

The silence had been almost overwhelming at first. Same with all the empty space. Drawers that might’ve been Namjoon’s in another life are empty and clinging to the smell of old wood, the scent of fresh linen not having permeated yet. Lights he might’ve flicked on stay dark, and that darkness is at its worst in the winter when it seems to last forever. Just a few hours of light and then this inevitable, lingering darkness.

Perhaps that’s how the entire breakup has been, if you had to describe it.

It’s why you’re staring at an empty corner of your living room, thinking it might be a nice spot for a Christmas tree if you bothered to put one up these days. You’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, your mother’s voice a dull buzz as she drones on and on about whatever comes to mind, because she knows how you get this time of year and wants to help but is a bit shit at being empathetic and comforting.

Which is why she says, “Did you hear your cousin’s getting married?” and doesn’t consider it a bad thing to say.

Because it shouldn’t be. Two years and one month. Most people are over it in two years and a month, you think, so it’s not really a bad thing to say. “Hm,” you grunt, “had no idea.”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, tongue clicking against her teeth. “That’s because you’re not on Facebook.”

You make a face she can’t see. “I use it enough for work. Trust me, there’s nothing on there I want to see.”

She must be going through the mail. Every now and then there’s the sound of a page turning—a magazine or a circular. Your mother always used to call her sister or her best friend as she clipped coupons. Now it’s you. “You know,” she starts, and you do, actually, know where this is going. “I’m still friends with Nam—”

“Don’t.” She sighs, moves to protest. “Mom, seriously, I don’t want to know.”

Because what you also know is Namjoon’s five-year plan. The house, the marriage, the garden. Could’ve written a ten-novel series on it, the way you’d memorized it back when it was relevant to your life.

(Back when you were a part of it; when it included you.)

Maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s self-preservation, but you don’t want to know how he’s doing. Can’t know, because whether he’s doing well or doing awful, both are equally miserable. The thought of him moving on and loving someone else, being happy without you, is enough to take your breath away, but you still love him enough to want only good things for him.

Two years and one month.

You spend another fifteen minutes talking to your mother before the call disconnects and that silence is back. It’s almost enough to have you dialing her number again and letting her talk about your ex. Instead, you stare at the empty corner of the living room and imagine the Christmas tree you’d put up. How large it’d be, what color lights; if you’d buy new ornaments or use the old ones you’d inherited from your grandmother. Then there’s a thought, so brief and jarring it nearly steals the air from your lungs—

Namjoon would’ve put a plant there.

Working under Kim Seokjin, there aren’t many rules.

Hoseok had described him once as two children in a trench coat (“His shoulders are two children wide!”), and you can’t find any fault in that description. That’s what he is: an overgrown child playing at adulthood—and, really, it’s not that you mind. You’ve had far worse bosses than Kim Seokjin. Squeaky, honking laugh and incessant need to be the center of attention at all office parties aside, he’s a good station manager. A bit neurotic, especially where Santa-mental is concerned, but his only rule is solid:

Work stays at work.

Compared to your last gig, you’ve got it good. Not easy, because you experience ten months’ worth of stress in the span of two, but you clock in and leave on time, Seokjin has only called you after-hours once (ate questionable ceviche at his partner’s holiday party and sent an SOS from the bathroom), and you’ve still got to deal with Jeongguk. Leave work at work? You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, yet here you are, face shrouded in blue light as you add the station’s email account to your phone.

Across town, Seokjin just got a phantom chest pain and doesn’t know why.

On this side of town, you try to swallow the feeling of being too big for your body—that jittery thing that accompanies anxiety. Because it doesn’t make sense, the way you’ve latched onto a single message. Two years and one month and you’ve never projected this hard, no matter how wistful and depressing the email. Holiday blues are nothing new, yet this time it’s enough to send you spiraling.

“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself, free hand stuck in a bag of potato chips. “They probably didn’t even answer.”

That’s the problem with these one-sided relationships. You’re halfway to desperate and they probably feel stupid for even sending in something so personal.

It takes a bit to scroll through all the new messages, mind blanking on what question Hoseok had posed today. Jeongguk’s Facebook privileges had been temporarily revoked after a small crowd had shown up to collect their PlayStations, so the responses are more level today than usual.

Then the username appears, and it halts all executive function, potato chip growing soggy on your tongue as you forget how to chew. There it is, a new message at the bottom of the old ones, your heart thumping wildly in your chest despite there being no reason for it:

[email protected] | I wish I could tell her I’m sorry.

[email protected] | Why can’t you?

[email protected] | I don’t think she’d want to hear it.

Introspection has never really been your thing—not like it was Namjoon’s, anyway—but the response gives you pause. In the place of this imaginary woman, would you want to hear it? If Namjoon called you right now, stitched his heart to his sleeve and let apologies spill out of his mouth, would you listen? Or would you hang up the phone, all of it too much to bear?

That’s the thing about time. Everyone says it heals all wounds, but maybe all it does is give you clarity. Buys you enough time to do all that introspection you weren’t good at before. And, sure, maybe that’s healing. Maybe all someone needs to do is look back on something with a fresh set of eyes, see all the parts that didn’t fit, all the parts that used to taste sweet but turned sour, and it’s enough to begin moving on.

Time. You’ve had two years and you’re still not sure if you’d pick up the phone. And, if you did, would it be in the name of closure? Morbid, genuine curiosity? Would you call it selfless, giving Namjoon the space to say what he feels needs to be said? Or would it be selfish? Because it’s a double-edged sword. Maybe you’d give anything to hear Namjoon’s voice again, hear that apology, but you know it’d destroy you.

So, yeah.

You can understand this person’s hesitation. It’s hard enough being on the receiving end in your imagination; you can’t imagine the turmoil of being the one who wants to apologize but not knowing if they should.

If they can.

It’s unfair to latch onto this the way you are. You know that, but it’s easier to justify when you think it might be mutually beneficial. Maybe this stranger’s apology for someone else can soothe some of your scars, and maybe you can be a listening ear for someone who clearly needs to be heard. So you suck in a breath, swallow your nerves, and type:

[email protected] | What would you say, if you could?

Then you do two things: you press send, and you change the password.

“Seokjin,” you say the next morning, meeting him at the coffee machine in the staff kitchen. “The station email started getting some weird spam messages,” you lie, “so I went ahead and changed the password.”

All you get in reply is a grunt. “Okay,” he says, pressing the espresso button on the machine.

He doesn’t ask for the new one. Doesn’t tell you to share it with Hoseok or Jeongguk. Doesn’t do anything except lean against the wall with his eyes closed, stress and exhaustion oozing from his pores.

You know exactly why you’re relieved, but you pretend you don’t.

Jeongguk’s punishment—for lack of a better term, because Seokjin would let him get away with murder if he could—for the PlayStation debacle is, much to your delight, Santa Duty.

Usually, it’s Hoseok that has to suffer. Has to stay a few hours late and deepen his voice and take call after call from kids who are very excited and very vehement to tell Santa what they want for Christmas. Hoseok’s lovely, human sunshine and all that, so he never complains, but the stress of playing Santa on top of the rest of his duties is a lot.

Hence Jeongguk.

“Are you serious?” he whines, seconds away from pouting and stomping his feet. You’ve seen this song and dance before. Any second now he’ll deploy the twinkly doe eyes and Seokjin will fold like a cheap metal chair. “You’re really gonna make me be Santa?”

Seokjin’s fighting the urge to let him off the hook, you can tell. His face is all scrunched up as if he’s physically pained by making Jeongguk do something he doesn’t want to do, and his clenched fists twitch at his sides. A pathetic display. He would truly let Jeongguk get away with murder, and it’s you who has to suffer for it. “Yes,” he says eventually. “Hoseok had to take over the Facebook page since… the incident, so he’s too busy.”

Jeongguk is a brat, but not enough of one to argue. Pretending to be Santa on the radio is a much more palatable punishment than permanently losing social media access. “Fine,” he grumbles, though the undertone says it’s a bad idea. He knows it, you know it, and Seokjin probably knows it, too, but he’s not willing to take on the task, so Jeongguk it is.

Which turns out to be a horrible decision, of course.

Kids one and two are simple enough: one wants a Barbie Dreamhouse and the other one wants a new bike. Jeongguk hems and haws through both calls, saying just enough to keep them hopeful but careful not to over-promise now that he’s on probation. Seokjin’s watching him like a hawk, all five-feet-ten-inches of him managing to take up the doorway to the studio, arms crossed over his chest like a bouncer.

He’s gonna fuck it up, his eyes say.

I know, yours respond.

It isn’t until the third kid calls in that things start to go downhill. Jeongguk never wanted to play Santa in the first place so he’s bored, doling out half-assed responses. Sometimes he forgets to use the Santa voice and it’s just Jeongguk talking to kids, witch cackle and all. It’s… a stark contrast to Hoseok’s Santa, that’s for sure, and Seokjin looks incensed, steam practically pouring out of his ears. You’d spare him some sympathy if he ever bothered to buy a second microwave, but he still hasn’t, so he deserves whatever consequences come from this.

Turns out the sponsors aren’t, like, overly thrilled that Santa Jeongguk promises child number six a PlayStation even though he asks for a limited-edition Iron Man figurine, so Seokjin dumps even more work on you and Hoseok: Santa duties for him, regardless of whatever else he’s tasked with, and all social media accounts for you. Makes you feel like you’re drowning.

Somehow, thanks only to divine intervention, you make it to the weekend. You collapse face-first onto the couch and shut off your brain. No thoughts about what to have for dinner, about your car payment you haven’t had time to pay that’s now three days overdue, all the dog hair you have to vacuum—no, all that exists are the fuzzy blanket you’ve draped over yourself and the cringey Hallmark movie you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from.

And it’s… nice, you suppose, but it’s just a temporary distraction. Can’t be a stopper for all that stress and loneliness. Doesn’t do much to change the fact that the first thing you take off after a long day at work is your obligated smile. Doesn’t do much to ease the chill in your bones. Doesn’t do much to stop the reminder that, years ago, this is the type of day that’d have Namjoon pulling you into his arms, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck, thumbs working at all the knots in your shoulders.

Lingering on the past is dumb—you know this—but it just feels a little cruel that a D-list celebrity couple on a questionable television network can laugh and smile coyly and flirt their way through a Christmas tree farm and you’re sad on your couch.

Just three more weeks of this, you tell yourself. Three weeks until January 2nd. Three weeks until you can shrug off your fake holiday cheer and try to go back to normal.

You should call your mother.

Which is another dumb thought, because it’s not like she’ll understand. She’ll listen and coddle you a little, but she won’t get it. All she’s ever known is your father. She can’t relate. Never had that breakup. Never lost who she thought was her person. And it’s not like you’re about to confide in your coworkers, even though you’d begrudgingly consider them actual friends. Seokjin’s too stressed to take on your problems; Hoseok’s too cheerful, despite being the one who’d probably understand the most, so you’re not about to drag him down with you. Jeongguk was never an option.

Still, your eyes drift to your phone. There’s someone in it that’d understand. Seems to be going through the same thing. Someone you’ve been too overwhelmed to reply to, so now that guilt settles over you, too.

There’s comfort in familiarity. That’s how you excuse the calm that washes over you when you see the unread message waiting for you, a real water-in-the-desert situation. The proverbial light at the end of this week’s shitty, taxing tunnel.

Briefly, you read over the old ones—

[email protected] | I wish I could tell her I’m sorry.

[email protected] | Why can’t you?

[email protected] | I don’t think she’d want to hear it.

[email protected] | What would you say, if you could?

—and then your breath hitches as your eyes gloss over the new one.

[email protected] | I don’t know. That’s silly, isn’t it? I’ve had so long to think about it and I still don’t know. Or… maybe I know and I’m just scared. Is that worse?

I know I’d want to say I’m sorry. Even if it doesn’t mean anything, if it’s too late, I’d want her to know that. I’d want to say I miss her, that I hope she’s doing well and is happy. I’d want to ask if she misses me, but I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to actually do it.

I keep having this recurring dream about running into her by accident. Serendipity, I guess. Like, I bump into her at the grocery store or at a coffee shop. And, each time, I say the same thing to her: "I'm still there, in our house... it's lonely there without you. I never realized how lost I'd be with you gone, how empty our home could feel. I finally understand how you felt." And, each time, it’s somehow too much and not enough.

So, I guess I’d want to say that, too, just so I can stop dreaming about it.

My friends keep saying I’ll be okay soon, to give it more time. I guess that’s what you do with breakups: you just… wait, and one day it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. No one really tells you what to do until then, what to do with all the empty space. They don’t tell you what to do with the guilt and the hope, either, and that’s the worst part.

I’m sorry. I sort of just dumped all of this on you, but it feels nice to get it out. Even if I’ll never be able to say it to her, at least I’ve said it to someone. Thank you for reading it.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the screen, obscuring the letters, making them illegible.

I think she’d really like to hear that, is all you manage to type.

“God,” Hoseok groans, looping his headphones around his neck, “today is brutal.”

Across from him, you nod, lips wrapped around the straw to your extra-large cold brew Seokjin had bought you as a peace offering. “Mm.”

“It never stops,” he continues. Face-plants onto the table in front of him, “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” no doubt making his suffering worse. “Look at it,” he whines, pointing at the screen. “There are sixty-seven people on hold. Sixty-seven!” A pained sigh. “You think those reindeer will run me over, too?”

You shrug. “Only one way to find out.” You lean back in your chair. “Jeongguk! Can you come in here and run into Hoseok at full force?”

Hoseok chokes while Jeongguk tosses back a huh? why? that has you snorting. “Ah, cheer up, Hobi. You know this day’s always the worst.”

“Okay, but why?” he continues to gripe. “Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I don’t need you to mansplain Christmas blues to me. I know why this time of year is hard for people, but it’s usually, like, because of money or people having shitty families, right? But this year it’s all bullshit. Just stupid stuff that absolutely doesn’t matter.”

“That seems a little harsh.”

“Is it?” he retorts. “If I have to listen to one more person complain about the price of wrapping paper, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

“There’s a paper shortage, Hoseok.”

He pulls a face. “And that’s my problem? Stop cutting down the fucking trees, then! Did they ever think of that? Did they ever think that if they cut down an entire fucking forest, maybe suburban white women who put oatmeal recipes on Pinterest wouldn’t be able to wrap Christmas presents anymore? God, how selfish! Think of the children—”

Seokjin materializes out of nowhere, a bag of takeout in hand—the sort of boss who’s kind of a shithead but always seems to know what people need. “Eat up, bud, I got your favorite,” he says to Hoseok, busying himself with setting out the food. True to his word, he presents your co-host with a spread of all his go-tos and you watch, bemused, as Hoseok whimpers. Seokjin shoves a fork in his hand and pats the top of Hoseok’s head. “Okay?” When he nods, Seokjin tacks on, “Okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Just stay off the internet. This is your third rant this week about the environment and consumerism.”

“Okay,” Hoseok replies, cheeks bulging around a lot of orange chicken.

It takes a while for the color to return to Hoseok’s face, make him look alive again. You take the next few calls on your own, fielding rants about the state of Christmas in between rants about corporate conglomerates and the general demise of small businesses. Someone calls in to complain about the people complaining. Another person calls in to complain about this year’s mall Santa and how every single child that’s met him has cried. There must be a reason for that, the person drawls. Don’t you think it’s worth looking into?

Jeongguk cackles from outside the studio. Makes a show of grabbing his coat and keys and says he’s going to the mall to investigate. Seokjin catches him by his scarf when he’s halfway out of the building and shoves him back to his desk. Hoseok’s still shoveling broccoli beef into his mouth.

You’re starting to sound soulless when you take another call. “Hi,” you chirp, voice dripping with fake sugar. “Thanks for calling Santa-mental. What’s got you down this year?”

It’s another stupid tradition in a long line of stupid traditions. December 23rd is always set aside for those long-suffering Christmas blues, the day where callers can air their grievances and get them out of their systems at the last minute. Before they have to go to Christmas Eve parties and pretend; before they have to exchange gifts with people that have been wearing on their last nerve for weeks.

So maybe you’re starting to sound worn down, shouldering all this negativity temporarily, but you’re used to it.

“Yeah, hi,” a gravelly voice responds. “I’m calling to bitch about my best friend.”

Hoseok chokes on a forkful of rice. Begins to whisper, “Tell him he can’t—”

“That’s not a very festive word,” you snort, light enough that this caller knows it’s a gentle correction but stern enough for him to not use the word bitch on air again.

The man clears his throat, undeterred. “Right. Anyway, I’m calling to complain about him.”

“Why? Is he being a Grinch?”

“No,” the caller says, “he’s just lovesick. Had a bad breakup and can’t seem to get over it.”

“Oh. Well, breakups are hard, y’know.”

“Sure. And he’s not, like, unbearable. He still showers and goes to work, and he even has a therapist so he’s being functional and working on himself or whatever other bullsh—stuff. Stuff his therapist helps him with.”

You roll your lips, try to contain your laugh. Seokjin’s probably red-faced and white-knuckled in his office. “That sounds good,” you counter. “Productive. What’s there to complain about?”

The caller is quiet for a few seconds before he tentatively admits, “I miss him.”

“Oh—”

“He’s my best friend and he’s been so hard on himself. Blames himself for the breakup. Which, like, sure, maybe that’s true, but… I don’t know. It’s hard to see him like this, I guess.”

“How long has it been?” you ask, even though you’re long past the point in the conversation where you’d wish them well and play some tone-deaf Christmas jingle.

The caller hums. “Almost two years, I think.”

Play the song about the Christmas shoes, Hoseok mouths to you. Always says that about the really sad calls. Says it one-ups their sadness, and Hoseok’s not as much of a bastard as Seokjin and Jeongguk are, but he has that streak sometimes.

Fuck off, you mouth back.

“I had a tough breakup of my own not too long ago, so I understand your friend’s struggle. I’m gonna play something for the two of you. Happy holidays.”

Maybe you play it for them, but you play it for you, too: “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” probably a too on the nose choice, but it helps distract you long enough that you miss the questioning stare Hoseok sends you before he stares past you and catches Jeongguk’s eye and sends him the same look.

You also miss the voice in your head that says you know that voice, the one on the line. It’s a little rougher than the last time you’d heard it, two years and one month ago, but you know it.

For now, you let Darlene Love croon away. Hoseok wordlessly hands over his egg roll.

They’re his favorite.

Christmas is quiet.

At six, you blink your eyes open and check the weather. Bundle up and put those little boots on your dog’s paws. They put too many chemicals in the de-icer these days, your mom had said. I can’t believe you moved to a place that snows so much.

(You can’t either, sometimes, but you would’ve gone a lot farther for your relationship. For Namjoon, specifically, because you’d dated a few people in the first year or two of college you couldn’t imagine moving down the street for, let alone to some pin-prick town on the opposite side of the country.)

By seven-thirty, you’re eating a breakfast you’ve managed to scrape together with the last of your groceries. Eggs, a slice of toast, some cut-up fruit. Not bad, considering all you’d managed to choke down last year had been half a Nature Valley bar that you’d cried over after it covered your bed in crumbs you didn’t have the energy to clean up.

Your mother FaceTimes you at ten-thirty, just like she’d promised. She scolds you first, chastising you for the millionth time about not coming home this year for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but lays off once your dad redirects her. She flips the camera to your brother and his wife at the breakfast bar. You suspect she’s pregnant but that they’re waiting to drop the news and suddenly you’re thankful you’re not there.

You like your sister-in-law; really, you do, but you don’t think you have the energy for something so big and important.

By noon you’re back in bed, your dog curled up by your feet and A Christmas Story playing nonstop on TV. You contemplate making a drink but decide against it. Somehow it feels like progress to be sad sober.

That plan goes out the window by three. It’s snowing again and the snow always makes you think of Namjoon, of all those nights in college where he’d drag you out of your shitty student apartment with your awful roommate to pelt you with snowballs and kiss the warmth back into your cheeks. Makes you think of graduation and heat-slicked skin and Namjoon next to you on the couch, limbs rigid with anxiety as he asked where do we go from here? even though he meant do you still want me now that this part of our lives is over?

And you had just smiled and said I can’t imagine living somewhere without snow now even though you meant of course I do, sometimes I’m scared that I want you forever.

So, the snow makes you think of Namjoon and you miss Namjoon something terrible so, yeah, you’re drinking by three.

An email comes through at 3:48. A digital gift card from your brother, because that’s when he realizes he’s forgotten to get you a gift. You send him a quick thanks but leave off the asshole. You wonder if things between the two of you had always been this strained or if they’d gotten worse after your split from Namjoon. They were fast friends, closer in five minutes than the twenty-something years you’d had with him. You wonder if they still talk; if your brother blames you.

Doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. Not all siblings have to be close.

But now you’re thumbing through the rest of your emails. Personal combined with work in one singular inbox, so there’s a 10% off coupon for the pizzeria by the station sitting on top of a response from the stranger you’ve been corresponding with.

[email protected] | I think she’d really like to hear that.

[email protected] | Hm, I’m not so sure, but I’ll take it into consideration. The New Year is coming up. Maybe my resolution will be to say all these things I’m too scared to.

You snort derisively. Yeah, you know a thing or two about fear, know a thing or two about all the times you've picked up your phone, intent on reaching out—not just to Namjoon, but to anyone—only to lose all your resolve. And where has that gotten you? Now you’re stuck with all these feelings and no one to talk about them with. Alone in a room full of friends. That’s no way to live, you can hear Namjoon say. The king of emotional intelligence except when it mattered most.

Being vulnerable is hard; perhaps the hardest thing there is, if your stunning lack of enthusiasm towards it is anything to go by. And it’s not like you’re opposed. Until things fell apart, your and Namjoon’s relationship was a masterclass in effective communication, and that doesn’t happen if both parties aren’t willing to be vulnerable. It’s just… hard—hard to pick yourself up and get back on that particular horse when everything in you is screaming to stay off.

But there’s an opportunity here. If this stranger can pluck up the bravery to do—and be—better, maybe you can, too.

[email protected] | That sounds like a really nice resolution. Maybe I’ll do the same.

[email protected] | Have some things you can’t bring yourself to say, too?

[email protected] | A lot of what you said really resonated with me. I had a rough breakup of my own a while ago. A lot was left unsaid. I’ve spent a lot of time convincing myself it isn’t worth reaching out as opposed to thinking about what I’d say if I did.

[email protected] | And? What would you say, if you could?

[email protected] | I guess… I guess I’d ask if it was worth it. Not in a snarky way, just genuinely curious. Because there were problems, of course—it isn’t like the relationship ended for no reason. But it feels worse now, alone, than it ever felt together.

I’d say that I’m sorry. I’d say I wish I would’ve tried harder. I’d say there’s an empty spot in my apartment that would be perfect for a plant, but that I haven’t put one there because I’m scared I won’t be able to take care of it. That maybe that’s some kind of metaphor for our relationship—or me. I’m scared of ruining all these things I grow to love, and I don’t know how to let go of that fear. I don’t know how to accept that sometimes things end, and maybe it’s no one’s fault, even when it still feels impossible to breathe sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder if I should be over it by now, so the thought of asking that terrifies me. What if I’m the only one not over it? What if I’m hanging on to something that’s long dead?

[email protected] | I don’t know anything about your relationship, but if it’s anything like mine was… love like that, it doesn’t just go away. It’s too big, too important. Just because there’s time and space between the two of you, it doesn’t erase the love that was once there.

Or maybe I’m just projecting?

[email protected] | If you’re projecting, then so am I.

Although… if your resolution is to be brave, maybe I can be brave, too.

[email protected] | Hm, like a pact? I think that would be nice, actually. I think I’ve felt complacent for far too long; content to leave things as they are instead of saying what I want to say. Maybe it’s selfish to reach out after so long, but I’ve still held on to this small thread of hope that if I do… maybe I won’t get rejected. Maybe there are some things she’s left unsaid as well.

[email protected] | You’ll never know if you don’t try, right?

[email protected] | Right. If nothing else, there’s worth in being brave and no longer having to live with the uncertainty and what-ifs.

[email protected] | Let’s do it, then.

[email protected] | Let’s do it.

After your first day back to work, post-holiday, Seokjin takes you out to dinner.

Hoseok and Jeongguk are invited, too, but both decline. Hoseok’s eager to head home and loaf in front of the 85-inch, ultra high-res television he splurged on with his Christmas money, and Jeongguk’s off to the mall to, in his words, “finally investigate that sus mall Santa.”

So here you are, sat across from your boss in a tiny Italian restaurant. A candle flickers between the two of you, flames dancing wildly every time Seokjin sticks his hand in the bread basket. He’s suspiciously quiet, and it’s not just because he’s in an enclosed space. Much like every other restaurant in this podunk town, Seokjin knows the owner, so he’s not concerned about his volume or the speed with which he puts away five buttered dinner rolls. No—this is beyond. This is genuine concern he’s looking at you with.

“Can you just spit it out already?” you prompt, anxiety needling along your skin. Would he really bring you to an Italian restaurant to fire you? You’ve been having doubts about playing the Christmas shoes song, but you hadn’t thought it was this bad.

Seokjin’s hand pauses centimeters from his mouth. “The bread?” he asks, words muffled around a mouthful of soggy roll. He swallows hesitantly. “Is there something wrong with it? Where would I even—”

You gag. “Ew! You’re sick. Why would I be talking about the roll?”

“Because I had a mouth full of roll! What else would you be telling me to spit out?”

“Whatever it is you’re clearly trying to figure out how to say! You’ve been looking at me weird since we sat down!”

Seokjin adjusts his posture, spine ramrod straight against the uncomfortable wooden back of the chair. “Oh,” he says, tone caught out. “We’re just concerned about you.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Concerned about what?”

“Nothing serious,” he replies. He toys with the stem of his wine glass. “Hobi and Jeongguk were a little concerned to hear about your breakup. None of us had any idea.”

“Ah, well, you forgot to ask about it during my job interview.”

Seokjin levels you with a pointed stare. “You didn’t really have a job interview.”

“And whose fault is that?”

The waiter appears, dropping off a plate of fried calamari that Seokjin immediately has his hands on. Oblivious to the look on your face, he retorts, “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Are you? That’s a bit of a loaded question. After two years, you’re well past the worst of it, so you’re not exactly lying when you answer (“I am. It wasn’t recent.”) but it almost feels like you are. Because you are okay, but you still have bad days. Not the kind of days where you break down crying and feel like you can’t get out of bed, but days where you feel worn down. Days where all your limbs feel heavy with what-ifs and a little bit of guilt.

“Okay,” Seokjin relents. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shrug. “If you want to talk about it.”

He laughs. “It’s not an interrogation. Really—I’m just making sure you’re okay. You don’t talk much about personal stuff. Not like Hoseok does, anyway.”

You scoff. “Hobi would give someone his social security number if he liked them enough.” Seokjin doesn’t react. In fact, he’s quiet for a long time—long enough for the silence to be replaced by the clanking of dishware, of the chefs barking out orders in the kitchen. “Tell me he didn’t.”

“He… might’ve done that, yeah.” Awkwardly dabbing his napkin at his face, he quickly adds, “But Jimin was able to get it sorted! Everything’s fine!”

“If you say so.”

Over two massive dishes of pasta, and perhaps slightly fueled by the carafe of wine that never seems to go empty, you wind up telling Seokjin about your relationship. How you’d met Namjoon during the spring semester of your sophomore year in a shared chemistry lab—you, a bright-eyed and probably naive nursing student; Namjoon pre-med and too smart for his own good. You tell him how you’d only taken organic chemistry at the recommendation of your advisor and how it didn’t make a lick of sense to you; how Namjoon had offered to tutor you, which was standard at first, but found the two of you going on coffee dates by Valentine’s Day and official by Easter break.

You tell him how happy the two of you had been. All the conversations you’d had about what would happen after graduation. How you promised Namjoon you’d go wherever he went. You could get licensed anywhere, so as long as the two of you were together, you’d be happy. So that’s what you did: followed him to another big city, passed your boards and got licensed, found a cozy apartment not far from the hospital and campus. Two years of that before you outgrew it. Found a small house to rent in the suburbs. Namjoon used to wake up early to catch the train and text you pictures of the sunrise.

Life was good. The two of you were twenty-five and exhausted but so, so horribly in love that nothing else mattered.

And then, like most good things inevitably do, things fell apart.

It was gradual. Blink and you’ll miss it. The opposing shifts, the burnout, the days off spent catching up on sleep rather than each other. The meals eaten alone, the gray mornings that found you waking up to an empty bed. The first morning Namjoon had taken the train and didn’t send you a picture. The evenings spent in silence in front of the television. No conversations, no touching, just existing alongside one another like the ghosts of a love gone stale.

You’d smiled in Namjoon’s graduation pictures. Kissed him on the cheek and showered him in endless praise about how proud of him you were, not a lie to be found, drunk on the hope that maybe things would be better now that another chapter was behind you.

Then he dropped the bomb. His residency was on the opposite side of the country. He’d matched into his top choice, the best one in the country for his specialty, and he wanted you to go with him. I know that’s selfish, he’d said, and you couldn’t figure out why he’d say that, why it’d be selfish for you to go. You’d asked him why he’d waited so long to tell you, and the air was knocked from your lungs when the answer was that he knew you’d say no.

You tell Seokjin that Namjoon had been right. A string of tearful conversations, the mutual decision to call it quits, put an end to the proverbial suffering and let go of a dying thing. I guess that just happens sometimes, you tell him. Life gets in the way.

You tell Seokjin how you couldn’t bear to stay in that house in the suburbs anymore. How you quit your job and moved to this tiny town, adopted a dog, applied for any job that was hiring. How you’d never worked in a radio station before, but you’d liked Seokjin the moment you met him. He’d said you had a voice for radio and they had an opening that needed to be filled immediately, so when could you start? You don’t make anywhere near as much money as you used to, but you have time to breathe. The stress, the exhaustion and the burnout, are gone. You have enough.

Now here you are, two years later.

So, sure, you’re okay in the sense that there’s scar tissue where the worst of it once was, but you’re not sure how to shake the knowledge that Namjoon was your person. You’re not sure how to reconcile that, of all the decisions the two of you had made together, you’d chose wrong on the most important one.

[email protected] | I finally talked to someone about it today. My relationship.

[email protected] | How did it go?

[email protected] | Probably would’ve gone better if it’d been a therapist instead of my boss, but… it was nice. Talking about it means it was real, you know?

[email protected] | Yeah, I feel like that, too. It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten what her voice sounds like, how she laughed. I’m scared I’ll forget more and then it’ll be gone completely. God, that sounds pathetic, huh? It’s not like she died. But you cling to those sorts of things when memories are all you’ve got left.

[email protected] | No, it’s not pathetic. It’s hard to feel like the person you spent so much time with is just a stranger now. Like, what are you supposed to do with all the space they used to occupy? I had all this love for this person, and now I can’t remember what their laugh sounded like.

[email protected] | Can I ask… if you’re still planning on reaching out, what are you hoping for? I’m trying to temper my expectations (preparing for a rejection and/or to be ignored) and I just have no idea what to expect.

[email protected] | Honestly? I’m not sure. I’m not expecting anything, especially not any sort of relationship. I’d say the most I could hope for would be a cup of coffee, but I don’t even know where he’s living these days. Or if his number is the same. I could reach out and get told I have the wrong number and to fuck off.

[email protected] | Wow, coffee. That sounds really nice. I’m really hoping for that for you.

[email protected] | Thank you. I hope you find what you’re looking for, too.

[email protected] | I guess we’ll see, huh?

You decide you’re going to text Namjoon on New Year’s Eve.

It’s fitting, you figure. Symbolic. You can casually text him at 11:59pm and have an answer. If he tells you to fuck off, you’ll have a clean slate for the new year. You haven’t really thought about what’ll happen if he doesn’t. Getting your hopes up is dangerous, and you have enough self-control not to let yourself go down that road.

But the wait is almost torturous.

Four days. That’s all the time you have to both muster up the courage and figure out what to say. Whatever you’ll wind up saying, you’ve decided you’re going to keep it simple. It’ll be far less embarrassing to have your ‘Hi, Joon’ go ignored than some over-the-top paragraph. You might be doing something scary and brave—or extremely idiotic, depending on who you ask—but you still care about your pride, at least a little bit.

The station’s email slows down considerably. Nothing new from your penpal, either. You figure they’re gearing up for the same thing. You hadn’t specified when you were going to reach out, but you both seem to have come to the same natural conclusion. There’s just something inspiring about New Year’s Eve.

However, what you’ve lost in written, electronic communication, you make up for in Hoseok and Jeongguk.

“You’re really gonna text your ex?” Jeongguk asks, his ass perched on the corner of your desk as he litters it with cracker crumbs. You sweep them into your hand and dump them on his jeans.

As he squawks indignantly, Hoseok tacks on, “Damn, do you think I should text my ex, too?”

“No,” you and Jeongguk say in unison.

“Wow. Why do you get to text your ex and I don’t?”

Jeongguk throws a grape at him. It pegs him in the forehead and falls pitifully to the floor. “Because your ex stole your dog, dude.”

“And your identity,” you add.

Jeongguk nods. “And, like, half the shit in your kitchen. You got your stove stolen, bro. Who the fuck steals a stove?”

“Hobi’s ex, apparently.”

He chuckles awkwardly, voice high and strained. “Hey, come on now, I’m feeling a little targeted here.”

“Her ex,” Jeongguk begins, pointing at you, “is, like, a whole ass doctor. Your ex is a thief. A good one, I’ll admit, because how the fuck do you even get the stove out of a third-floor apartment, but a thief nonetheless. Incomparable.”

That’s how it goes for four days.

And you want to be upset about it, the prodding and unsolicited advice (“Just send him nudes,” Jeongguk suggests at least six times a day) but it helps to settle your nerves. They settle even more when Jeongguk gives up on your ex and focuses all of his attention on Hoseok’s, if your work chat is any indication of his current hyperfixations.

Jeon Jeongguk > did u know hobi’s ex also stole all the tubing for his washer and dryer lmao

Jeon Jeongguk > he had to use the laundromat for 2 months

Jeon Jeongguk > jimin just told me hobi’s ex also stole an entire window

Jeon Jeongguk > who tf did this guy date

You > why is jimin telling you this stuff? doesn’t hr have some patient-doctor confidentiality or whatever

Jeon Jeongguk > ??? jimin loves me, he’d never keep secrets from me

You > pretty sure that’s not how that works

You > …find out more about that window though. the curiosity is gonna kill me.

Jeon Jeongguk > k

Jeon Jeongguk > according to jimin

Jeon Jeongguk > it was his bedroom window

Jeon Jeongguk > landlord was pissed lmao

Park Jimin > You better not speak a word of this to anyone

You > i’m not scared of you jimin

Park Jimin > What

Park Jimin > Why not :(

You > ???

By the 29th, you’re ready to come out of your skin. The anxiety alone has you in such a chokehold that you’re sure any moment your heart is going to beat right out of your chest, that you’ll get fabric burns on your palms with how often you have to wipe them on your thighs, that Hoseok will pop his head over your cubicle divider and find you face-down on your keyboard, dead.

(Jeongguk promises he’ll take care of your dog if this happens, and just the thought of your pure, innocent baby being tainted by his influence has you surviving on pure spite alone.)

On the 30th, you spend your lunch break in your car. Seat reclined, radio off, staring up at the cloudless sky through your sunroof. You should not be this anxious, you tell yourself. It’s just a text message. The worst that can happen is, quite literally, nothing—and at least that’ll give you an answer. Namjoon doesn’t owe you anything, especially not after two years of silence, so the anxiety makes sense. No matter how you spin it, it’s a pretty selfish thing you’re gonna do. It’s not Namjoon’s problem that you have some regrets, some lingering guilt. For all you know, he’s spent the last two years getting his shit together and moving on, and who are you to interrupt that?

You nearly call your mother for all that Facebook intel she’d been so eager to tell you before.

This is a bad idea, you tell yourself over and over. He doesn’t want to hear from you. Right? If he’d wanted any kind of contact, he’s had two years to reach out. A non-answer is still an answer. Silence, sometimes, is loud and clear.

When you return to your desk, there’s a massive box sitting atop it, wrapped in ridiculous paper with a bow. Seokjin stands to the side with a smug look on his face that only twists your stomach more.

“I got you a gift,” he says, gesturing at the box.

You blink owlishly. “Yeah, I-I can see that.”

“Are you gonna open it?”

“Be pretty rude not to,” you answer, fingers popping a seam along the top. “You wrapped this? It looks way too neat to be your work.”

Seokjin scoffs but his ears turn red nonetheless. “Wow, that’s a really fucked up thing to say someone who just gave you a gift.” You just stare. “Anyway.” He coughs. “Hoseok wrapped it.”

It’s a microwave.

Seokjin gives you a fucking microwave.

“Are you serious.”

“Figured it was about time I got you that second microwave,” he replies easily. Shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocks back on his heels. “It’s voice-activated. Very fancy.” At your hesitant look, Seokjin tacks on, “And Jeongguk is not allowed to use it.”

You open your mouth to say something—a thank you, a why did you give me a microwave five days after Christmas, anything—but nothing comes out. You’d just been on the verge of a mental break, so it’s all a bit overwhelming. Feels like too much, even though you’ve been harassing the poor man for a second microwave for eons.

But Seokjin sees the open-shut-open-shut of your jaw and knows. Says, “Speaking of Jeongguk, he’s going to fill in for you tomorrow. Take the day off.”

“What?” you manage to choke out. “No, Seokjin, don’t be ridiculous, I can—”

He holds his hand up, silencing you. “Not up for debate,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You should’ve gone to work.

You need the distraction. You need something to think about that’s not Namjoon. You’ve already deep-cleaned your apartment and sorted through your closet. Made DONATE and TRASH piles. You give the dog a bath even though he’s not dirty, but he always fights you on the nail trim so it eats up an entire hour of your afternoon. You call your brother and finally ask if you’re going to be an aunt because you can’t stop wondering.

(You are. You cry a little. So does your brother.)

When two-o’clock rolls around, you tune into the station on your phone and listen to Hoseok and Jeongguk. They’re an absolute trainwreck together, absolutely no finesse or chemistry, and you laugh so hard you cry. Seokjin texts you at 2:03 and asks what he’s done, if it’s too late for you to come in. You thank him for the day off and laugh some more.

You eat a late lunch; something light, because even if you’re less anxious than before, you’re still not confident your stomach can handle anything heavier. You watch a few episodes of trashy daytime TV. Take a nap on the couch, the dog curled up at your feet, and hope you’ll wake up just before midnight.

Nine is close enough. You walk the dog before you lock yourself in the bathroom. Maybe you can’t scrub away the doubt trickling in, but you can exfoliate the hell out of your skin. You can use your overpriced deep conditioner on your hair and shave your legs and use the fancy lotion you’d stolen from your mother the last time you visited. You can put on fuzzy socks and make yourself feel good like this, on the outside, even when you don’t feel nearly as good inside.

Candle lit, you crawl into bed and try to read a book. Some self-help bullshit your father had sent you passive-aggressively, because it’s been two years and he still thinks you’re an idiot for leaving your cushy hospital job to work at a radio station. Because of a breakup? he’d asked incredulously, because he didn’t understand. All he’s ever known is your mother, so now he sends books instead of patronizing you out loud. Your mom had given him hell the last time he’d done it, and maybe he doesn’t mind pissing you off, hurting your feelings, but your mother’s exempt.

You stare at the cover. Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, it reads. If that’s not a dig, you’re not sure what is. You wonder what your dad would think about mono-dot-persona at Gmail dot com. Then you wonder why you even give a shit what your father thinks about anything.

Eleven-thirty rolls around before you’re ready. Quarter to midnight comes even quicker. You unlock your phone and create a blank text message. Start typing Nam— because you’d deleted all his texts after the breakup. God, you hadn’t even taken that stupid crab emoji out of his contact name, so there it sits, just Namjoonie with a little crab that makes your chest hurt.

Maybe you are an idiot; maybe your father’s right.

Then you just stare, thumbs hovering. There’s a lot you want to say and even less you think you’ll be able to. Twenty years wouldn’t be enough time to talk yourself up for this. You can’t get the image of Namjoon out of your head, sitting on his couch, arm thrown around someone else. Smiling into their neck, their hair, as they count down the seconds until midnight and share a kiss. He won’t even hear his phone vibrate. Won’t see your text until much later when his brows knit together, confused, and he shakes his head as he deletes it.

A shaky exhale. You back out of your texts and thumb to your email.

Maybe I can be brave, too.

I’ve still held on to this small thread of hope.

There’s worth in being brave and no longer having to live with the uncertainty and what-ifs.

I hope you find what you’re looking for, too.

Your phone vibrates in your hand.

Jeongguk [11:56pm]: good luck broski

Jeongguk [11:56pm]: just remember if it goes bad it’s never too late to send nudes

Jeongguk [11:56pm]: hobi is already wasted but he says good luck too

Jeongguk [11:57pm]: i had to hang out with him tonight to make sure he doesnt drunk text his ex. low key hoping he does so i can put it on tiktok

Jeongguk [11:57pm]: ill let u know what happens

Yeah, you’re going to be fine.

Hi, Joon, you type. Delete immediately because it sounds too familiar. Are you still allowed to call him Joon? Hi, Namjoon, you write instead. Blank on what comes next, those two words seemingly taking all your brainpower. Maybe they’ll be enough. Reaching out is the hardest part, right? It’s probably better to keep it simple, anyway; gives you less space to say something incriminating and stupid you can’t take back.

At the last second, you start to tack on an apology. Sorry for texting out of the blue, you want to say. But you’re halfway through when your phone vibrates in your hand again, startling you, so what you wind up sending is—

You [11:59pm]: Hi, Namjoon. Sorry for tecgt

—and you kind of wanna die a little. A lot.

You’re going to murder Jeongguk for two reasons: one, you assume the text is from him, updating you on the developing situation with Hoseok’s ex; and two, Jeongguk is usually to blame for anything that goes amiss in your life these days. But when you thumb backwards, there’s nothing new from him.

There is, however, a little blue dot next to Namjoon’s name, the hint of a response. And then several more.

Namjoon [11:59pm]: I’m so sorry for reaching out like this. Please tell me to fuck off if you want, I just… if you’re open to it, I really like to talk to you? God, that sounds so lame. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking lately and holy shit did you also just text me

Namjoon [11:59pm]: Oh my god you did

Namjoon [11:59pm]: At the same?? Time??

Namjoon [11:59pm]: Sorry for the triple text, this is just doing my head in right now

Namjoon [11:59pm]: I’ve been trying to talk myself into doing this for months now and you just… texted me at the exact same time?

Namjoon [12:00am]: Happy New Year (sent with fireworks)

Namjoon [12:00am]: Can I call you? Is that weird?

Namjoon [12:00am]: Of course that’s weird, you haven’t even replied

Namjoon [12:00am]: Oh my god I am so sorry

You [12:07am]: You can call me

Your hands are shaking so bad you can barely swipe across the screen to answer the call. Two years. You haven’t spoken to Namjoon in two years, haven’t heard his voice. Will he sound familiar to you, or will he sound like a stranger? Will his voice sound like returning home after a long time away, or will it settle in your gut like deja vu—something you can place if you think hard enough, but ultimately slips through your fingers like sand?

“He-hello?”

A sharp intake greets you. “Hi. Wow. Shit, hi—”

“Namjoon.”

Both of you are stunned into silence. His voice soothes over you like a balm; you’ll never be able to forget the sound of it. You’re a fool to think you could. The same voice that made you hushed promises, detailed how loved you were; the same voice that cracked when everything fell apart, that spoke apologies around lips wet with tears.

“It’s so good to hear your voice,” he says. “I—Happy New Year? God, this is so crazy.”

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat. “You’re telling me,” you say, voice thick. “How are—how have you been? Are you—you said you’ve wanted to for… months?”

“Yeah. This is gonna sound stupid, probably, but I… I wrote into this radio show? I don’t even know what it’s about, Yoongi listens to it around the holidays sometimes, and I wasn’t expecting a reply. But someone answered, and—I don’t know, I just… spilled my heart out. Whoever answered was basically going through the same thing—”

You can’t breathe. “Namjoon.”

“—and we made this, like… pact? That sounds dumb. But I guess we both had a lot of things we left unsaid—”

“Namjoon.”

He pauses. “Yeah?”

“Namjoon,” you say again, vision blurred from the tears stuck to your lash line. “Namjoon, that was me. Fuck. What the fuck? Fuck—holy shit, Namjoon, you were talking to me.”

A long silence stretches between you. “What.”

“That was me.”

“Yeah, I heard you, I just… what? Why are you answering emails for some radio station?”

“I work there. After the—after we broke up, I quit my job. I was so stressed and burnt out and I just couldn’t do it anymore. You know some crazy-high percentage of nurses quit within the first five years? I just… quit. Moved even farther away from the city to some even smaller town and applied for whatever jobs were open and adopted a dog—”

“You got a dog?”

You laugh. “Yeah. He’s an American Eskimo. His name is Doug.”

“Doug? What kind of name is Doug?”

“The shelter gave it to him. It kind of suits him. He acts like a Doug sometimes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Wait—how did you even—you heard the show? I thought you moved for your residency?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, I was going to, but I stayed here. Did one a little closer. Leaving didn’t feel right, you know? Like, the thought of losing you and leaving the house… I couldn’t do it.”

Your stomach knots and roils. “You’ve been here the whole time?” you whisper.

“Yeah, I have. That was really you, though? On the email?” You hum. “What the fuck. This is really nuts.”

“Are you upset?”

“No,” Namjoon insists, “not at all. Baby, no, I’m not upset. Everything I said was true, so it saves me so much talking. Which—thank god, honestly, because I feel like I’m gonna throw up. I was just so scared, you know? Of so many things. Mostly I was terrified for you to actually know how much I still miss you. Is that wrong? Am I being selfish? Overstepping?”

All those tears spill over, unbidden. “No, Joon. I—me too. I miss you, too. So much.”

You can hear Namjoon’s smile when he exhales, breathy and soft. Unburdened. An entire universe stretches out before the two of you and you have your pick of what comes next. Words are just words—you’re not naive enough to think this solves anything, that there aren’t countless conversations you and Namjoon have to have. But, for right now, this is enough. It’s security, and that’s all you can really ask for.

The knowledge that, a long time ago, you’d given your heart to someone that’s still keeping it safe.

Of all the decisions you’ve made, that’s the one you’d gotten right. And it’s one you’d make a million more times and never choose differently.

“Hey,” Namjoon says after a while, “how about that coffee?”

Thank you for reading! My inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. I’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

#btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #kpopsociety #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #namjoon fanfic #bts imagines

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raplinesmoon · 3 years ago

Text

A Touch of Gold (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: king!Jin x concubine!reader

genre(s): smut, absolute filth, angst, p*rn with the barest of plots… I am sorry

au(s): royalty au

word count: 955

warnings: Jin can turn things into gold (yes that’s a warning), masturbation (f), voyeurism, light b*ndage, blindfolding, degradation, sir kink, c*m eating, clit slapping, gold banana d*ldo (YOU READ THAT RIGHT) that Jin f*cks OC with, dom!Jin (he’s mean but it’s hot), bratty sub!reader, mutual pining, Jin is hopelessly in love, it’s kinda sad at the end

rating: 18+

summary: The gift he’d received from the gods had once been Seokjin’s greatest blessing… but now, it’s become a curse.

a/n: hey Sophie @gcfkims this is all your fault, and Jin’s for being my muse (jk, but thank you for the idea). i’m convinced this was actually a fever dream bc I’m slightly sick rn and will be spending New Year’s inhaling green tea and Tylenol. Idk how Jin manages to bring out my h*rny side all the time, but let’s just appreciate the good it brings :)

Seokjin considered himself a connoisseur when it came to beautiful things. The gods had blessed him with a handsome face and a destiny like no other. A boy born to poor parents, rising up to become a king.

After being crowned, the Fates had asked him his greatest wish now that he had everything at his feet. Even as his power grew, Seokjin found he couldn’t get enough of the finer things in life. And so the gods had blessed him once more.

One tranquil summer night, he’d gone for a walk in the rose garden, admiring the sweet fragrance of the blooms. As he reached out to pluck one off its stem, a loud gasp left his lips. The heavy gold rose plummeted to the ground with a thud.

Turning on his heels, Seokjin ran towards the palace, fear striking his heart. As he turned the corner to go back inside, he felt his body brush against the skirts of a dress. Frozen, he turns around to check on the status of the poor stranger he’d just bumped into, only to be met with the sparkling eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And that was how you two met.

Unimpressed with the display you’ve put on for him, King Seokjin whistles, glancing around the high, impenetrable walls of his bedroom.

You let out a whine as he reaches over the table to snack on a piece of fruit, hips bucking harder against your own fingers as the lewd squelching intensifies.

“You little whore,” he seethes. “I invited you up here to entertain me, and instead, I have to eat to cure my boredom. Is this how you please Sir?”

“S-sir!“ you gasp. “Please don’t!”

Mewling, you rub your swollen nub harder, determined to make yourself squirt before the king decides to punish you and take matters into his own hands.

You catch a faint glimmer from the corner of your eye, and your blood freezes. Eyes deviously glinting, Seokjin stalks over to the bed, untying the silk ties that bind your legs to each bedpost.

The banana that had been inches away from his plush lips moments ago now rests at his side, the once supple fruit now burnished and gleaming underneath the candlelight.

“You have ten seconds to make yourself cum before I flip you over and fuck you with this until the whole palace can hear you screaming,” he snarls.

Inadvertently clenching at his threat, your hips slow, lifting your sticky fingers out of your wet cunt before bringing them to your lips, messily sucking your arousal.

“That’s it. Bend over, slut,” the king growls. “Little whores like you don’t deserve to cum on Sir’s cock.”

Letting out a shiver, you squirm against the bed, drenched in a pool of your own wetness. Blindfolded, you feel a cool breeze enter the room and shiver harder, remembering how King Seokjin threatened to make you moan loud enough for everyone in the palace to hear.

Above you, Seokjin feels his dick twitch in his pants at the sight of you dripping and exposed for him like this. Grinding your hips against the mattress, you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Grasping the golden object tightly in his hands, he brings it closer to your gushing entrance, watching your hole pulse around the tip.

Annoyed with your constant squirming, Seokjin slaps your pussy lightly with it, the cool gold causing you to let out a whimper.

“You should be lucky I’m even fucking your slutty cunt,” he rasps, chuckling lightly. “A filthy whore like you shouldn’t be playing with me, showing me attitude.”

“Sir! I can’t! It feels too good-“ you scream, curling your toes as he pushes the dildo inside of you, fucking it in and out while watching your body jolt underneath him.

The cold metal creates a delicious friction along your slick walls, and you squeal once Seokjin hits a particular spot inside of you. The overstimulation, combined with the loss of your sight and the cold air, causes your nipples to stiffen. Soon enough, you’re clenching around his new toy, convulsing as your orgasm washes over you.

“That’s it, love, cum for me,” Seokjin groans, cock throbbing against the confines of his tight briefs.

Shaking, you pull off the blindfold, eyes tearing from the pleasure you’d just received while looking at the king in front of you. Even while blurred, Seokjin was still the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You wanted nothing more than to pull him into your arms and lay with him here for hours, planting kisses against his pretty lips.

“Was it too much for you?” Seokjin whispers, and you hear the sadness creeping into his voice.

“No,” you whisper back. “I loved every second. I can never get enough of you, my king.”

Seokjin’s heart drops at the formality that drips from your tone. Sometimes, he wishes you’d go out and find someone else, someone who’d be able to touch you, to love you how you deserved. Jealousy fills his chest at the thought of another man who’d be able to see how stunning you looked as you fell apart on his fingers and his cock.

This was all you two were ever meant to be. A king and his concubine. For what woman would ever want to marry a man who’d turn her into gold with one touch? He watches you slip out from his bed, wishing him a good night in your sweet voice. For a brief moment, you pause, and Seokjin imagines the light brush of your lips against his cheek. But then you’re gone, and he’s left alone. Imprisoned by the cold, rigid confines of his curse once again.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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yoonpobs · 3 years ago

Note

may I please request a heartbreaking angst drabble where jungkook cheats on the oc with her best friend and is completely heartless about it

thank you in advance ✨

THE AMOUNT OF JK ANGST REQUESTS I RECEIVED 😭damn jk stans ... are u ok?

anyway ... here u go bc I love me some angst too 🤣

pairing: cheater!jk x oc

genre: angst

warnings: infidelity, heartbreak, oc deserves better friends and a better man

words: 1, 235

“Wait—can we talk—please? Please look at me—” The desperation in his voice is clear when you turn around, face thunderous while the flutter of your dress swings with the motion.

“What is there to talk about, Jungkook? You humiliated me in front of my parents—in front of everyone,” you seethe, teeth barring when you poke into the pocket of his suit blazer. Your eyes strain to the rose tucked prettily inside.

You were allergic.

“I know, I know,” He exasperates, hands reaching out in an attempt to hold your arms down, “I’m sorry.”

The weather is too bright for you to be outside the wedding hall, your hands holding onto the heavy drapes of your dress as your makeup thaws under the blazing heat. The birds are singing a tune you’re unfamiliar with, a mocking cry to a special day turned sour.

“What the fuck is sorry going to do?” You hiss, “And you don’t know Jungkook. If you did you would’ve never fucked up the way you did today.”

Jungkook stands with a forlorn expression, his hands draped helplessly by his side as he attempts to assess your features. But the only thing you allow him to see is the vexation that plagues your skin, the usual, polished and prim girl was no longer there—but was replaced with a re-extinguished flame and he was the only person to blame.

“I didn’t mean for them to find out!” He defends, eyes scrunching in annoyance when you hurl out accusations in the open air, for the wind to breeze past and for the leaves to trickle down.

“What were you even thinking?” You sneer, pushing at his chest in hopes of transferring the ache in your own to him. Whatever transference of energy that you could ever conjure is poured out into your fingertips, even as they shake. “God—why couldn’t you have fucked Soojin after the wedding? Why before you were meant to walk the aisle? Huh? Am I a fucking joke to you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks, a sign that he was attempting to level out his own anger the more you retaliate with your grating tongue; unapologetic when you stare him down with eyes of a snake, venomous and hostile when you recall the events that unfolded.

“You said we could see other people!” He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air as a futile attempt to reason with you.

You laugh humourlessly, “Not on the day of our wedding, Jungkook.” You say softly, “Not when my parents and your parents, and the hundreds of business associates in that damn hall are waiting for me to walk down that aisle.”

He purses his lips.

“My best friend,” You scoff in disbelief, a tight smile appearing on your face, “She took being there for you a little too literally, huh?”

Your emotions took a one-eighty, the subdued tone in your voice escapes your lips when you stare blankly ahead, eyes far away from Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when the last thing you remembered was seeing him and Soojin, in the dressing room of the bride—making love to one another like it was the very last time they could do so.

You were the villain, the person in-between their love story. The person Jungkook’s obligated to where his heart lays in your best friends palm. You were the instigator to the events that unfolded, the same person that gave Jungkook the ammunition to wreak havoc and destroy your heart. There was no way he would’ve known Soojin otherwise.

“We’re not marrying for love,” He reminds you in a soft voice.

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Did you think I wasn’t aware?” You narrow your eyes at him, taking an intimidating step into his direction so that you’re nearly pressed up against his chest, “I never asked you to love me, Jungkook. I asked you to respect me. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Jungkook’s eyes darts away, a mechanism he opts for to push aside the guilt that eats him whole.

“I’m not stupid, Jungkook. But you made me look like an absolute fool in there. While I was mingling with your family and telling them how much you’ve taken care of me, how much you’ve loved me throughout our engagement—you were fucking my best friend in broad daylight. All while I had to put on a plastic smile and pretend like I was happy.” You say hoarsely, “you found your happiness in a loveless marriage. You couldn’t even pretend to be happy with me for a day?” You finish in a soft whisper, fists clenching by your side.

Jungkook sighs, a deep exhale that has him moving forward until his arms are wrapped around your body; all while you try to level your breathing so that you wouldn’t cry. But it’s to no avail, especially when he whispers apologies like they meant something into your hair, his strong arms rubbing soothing circles onto your shoulder blades. He holds you almost like a lover would—but you would be an idiot to burn twice.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaks, “I couldn’t help myself … I just—I wanted to be in love, I wanted to feel loved.”

You wanted to scream. Because Jungkook was smart, a son to two genius’ and a genius himself—excelling in everything he did and topped medical school—but he was so stupid; that he couldn’t even see that you were trying. That you tried so hard to love him.

And that you did.

You sink into his hold even if it’s temporary, even if his heart is set on you only when you’re vulnerable. Because he would never love you at your best, never love you if it weren’t for show.

“I’m still going to marry you.”

Jungkook’s arms rest loosely around your waist, a pause in his ministrations as he considers your words.

“I disrespected you,” Jungkook says softly.

You bite your tongue because, amongst all the other things he’s done, the disrespect hurt the least.

“And I’ve told white lies my entire life, Jungkook. At least now I have the dress to match.”

You push him off and swipe at your tears, taking a deep breath as you compose yourself. It’s terrifying how in just two seconds you were smiling widely, as if your heart wasn’t shattering in your ribcage, or that you had to walk into that wedding hall and marry a man that didn’t love you and would return to where his heart laid the moment it was all over. And that everyone knew where he’d run to if he had the wings to fly.

You smile, even if your face is tight. You take the first step to return to the hall, to tell everyone that your love for Jungkook was stronger than anything else and that you’d move past this. Even as you keep Soojin by your side. Because a friendship of two decades with a woman that’s seen you through your worst is just as important—if not more, than the person you fell in love with.

Just as you’re about to leave, his hand darts out to grab at your wrist to turn you around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, murmuring the words into your hair when he presses a kiss to it.

You smile. Again. You smell her on him.

You turn.

#requests #jk drabble #jk angst #jk infidelity #jk cheater #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook x oc #jungkook cheater #drabble #jk mini #jungkook mini #cheater!jk

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onlyswan · 4 years ago

Text

adrenaline rush | jjk

→ pairing: jungkook x f!reader

→ genre: fluff, established relationship

→ warnings: emotional trauma / manipulation / abuse, gaslighting, alcohol abuse / dependence, depression, anxiety, nightmare, mention of physical assault bc jk is angry . pls lmk if i missed anything

→ word count: 3.2k

↳ gold rush | love rush | sugar rush | adrenaline rush | zest rush

summary: you don’t need to pretend, and jungkook’s face looks bewitching beneath the sun.

note: i tried to proofread but it’s difficult IM SO SORRY breaks down . i’m honestly more on writing poetry and prose but i’m having fun with this thank u to everyone being so sweet :]

~*~

endless epiphanies have been occuring on jungkook’s mind ever since you opened up about your past relationship and the aftermath of it. he found himself crying like a goddamn child. because you weren’t crying. you weren’t crying at all. you just nervously smiled at him during pauses you made to allow him to process your words. for fuck’s sake, you were picking off lint from his sweatpants. you tried your very best to be composed and help him understand all the things you’ve been longing share. and he thought you must’ve been exhausted all this time, picking up the broken shards of yourself all while trying to protect your progress.

“he was far above me in every sense. he made sure to make me feel that way. we were in a relationship, but somehow, he still felt untouchable. my life revolved around agonizing over how i can better myself to be worthy of him. it was all about him. he was so good at the start, you know? until he could only be bothered to show an effort when he needed something, and i gave and i gave without hesitation. i altered anything he didn’t like. because i thought i was the problem. that all of me would never be enough. i was so naive and stupid.”

jungkook is livid upon hearing about how you were treated. he can’t bear to imagine you at such a toxic situation where someone is finding amusement in watching you destroy yourself for them. you sincerely believed that you would never be enough. it absolutely makes him see red. he wants to beat the shit out of who made you feel this way. his eyebrows were furrowed, mouth in a seething light lipped frown. you took his trembling hands in yours in attempt to soothe him.

the sorrowful and begging look on your eyes encouraged him to gather himself. this isn’t about him. you’re unlocking chapters of your life filled with trauma, pain, and regrets because you trust him to know you entirely as a person. and so, he listened intently, with an open mind and heart. it’s the least i can do. to let you know that i’m here, and i’m here to stay.

“i became distant from my friends. they never liked him. i should’ve listened.” you smiled bitterly. “that’s what we all say in the end, don’t we? so stupid.” you shook your head. “at some point, i woke up and realized i was miserable. i couldn’t recognize myself anymore. i lost sight of what truly matters to me, and who i truly mattered to. i wanted an out. but he cried and he begged. and then i thought, maybe he finally loved me. maybe he’d finally take the initiative. so i took him back. again, so fucking stupid.”

“i thought we were fine, but it became worse. he fucked with my head. he wanted to make me look like the bad guy. to be able to say that he was the one who ended it. he’s smart. i’ll give him that.” you sneered. resentment comes rushing back to your veins. you remember his mocking smirk and condescending tone all too well. how you visibly shrink underneath his gaze. you mistook the racing of your heart as love instead of anxiety and fear. you start to become nauseous. you surrendered to him all the power to run your life to the ground, and it will remain as the biggest mistake of your life.

“he broke up with me. that day, i didn’t feel like a person. he accused me of so many things, said such big words that made me feel so small. i was so humiliated and angry, mostly at myself. what if he was right? no, why did i let this happen to me? and then i left, but i didn’t come home.”

it was jungkook’s turn to hold your trembling figure. “baby, you’re shaking.” he sniffled, caging your face in his big hands. he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs and kissed your forehead lovingly. oh, jungkook. you didn’t even notice you were shaking. you mostly felt numb as you recalled the past events. “shhh, it’s okay. we can stop here, and you tell me the rest when you’re ready. i know this is difficult for you, my love.” he ran his hands up and down your arms to help soothe you. he grabbed the blanket from the armrest and wrapped it around you, then carried you over to his lap to embrace your still trembling body.

as you settle into his warmth, you only then perceived that you were overwhelmed with the information you poured out. you have never said these words out loud, they only wander aimlessly around your brain and you get stuck inside. now that they’re out in the open, it once again registered that what you’ve gone through was really fucking dreadful and you wonder how you still ended up here, in the safety of jungkook’s arms. his hushed whispers of comfort and sincere confessions of love gradually lulls you into ease as you nuzzle your face on his neck.

jungkook’s fingers brushed through your hair, gently rocking your body back and forth. “none of it was your fault. you did nothing wrong, okay? you deserved none of that.” you looked up to him and felt your chest tighten upon seeing the dampness under his eyes. “i’m so sorry. that piece of shit didn’t deserve your kindness. i’d give you the world if i could.”

“i have you here right now, i already got the world.” you smiled, pinching his soft cheek. pretty. “i’m fine. i promise. i love you so much. do you know that?”

he attempted to look away but you kept your hand firm. he released a shaky breath before meeting your eyes. “of course, i do. i love you, too. i love you so much.” and you wish you could keep this moment forever in your heart. just incase he changes his mind.

“i didn’t come home. i bought alcohol and went over to my best friend’s house. i was heartbroken. i got wasted and she thought it would just be a one- or two-time thing. but no, i was stubborn.” your hand gripped at his clothing as your voice cracked. “it was so bad. i left home with my uniform on but i skipped school and spent all my allowance on drinking. i got into a lot of trouble outside. there were some times i thought i wouldn’t be able to come home in one piece. i don’t know how i’m even still here. my grades were tanking. that caused a lot of rumors at school because i was an overachiever. i got pissed, so i drank some more. and then one day my parents found me passed out on our doorstep. they were furious. they threatened not to pay for my college, and then they wanted to disown me because apparently i brought shame to their household.”

you grew more anxious and self conscious under jungkook’s gaze. there it was. it’s easier to get angry at your parents, but deep down, you know they were right. you weren’t using your brain. seeing you become such a mess probably satisfied that heinous person more. was it worth it? the harsh bitter liquid burning your throat, the way the world spinned and became an unrecognizable blur as you drowned yourself in another bottle; how you laughed and cried and laughed some more. the scar on your knee from tripping on uneven pavements as you drag your weary vessel all the way home. the walk of shame on the hallway and the hangover from yesterday you persevered through your classes. that day you got suspended for being caught with alcohol in your backpack after promising your parents you’d stop, and the white walls of the hospital closing in as the withdrawal symptoms took a toll on you. the sympathetic smiles of the nurses made you feel more disgusted with yourself.

jungkook broke the defeaning silence as you willed yourself not to fall apart. i’m alright. i’m stronger than this. it’s okay. “but you’re here right now,” he said softly. “you’re okay, right? i mean . . . there’s nothing wrong? with like - you’re better now. you’re healthy?” he shot his questions frantically, concerned eyes darting around your body.

you blinked at him in confusion. “do you think i’m sick? i’m not dying, kook. my liver is fine, thankfully.” his mouth gaped open and shut like a fish, before releasing a relieved sigh. oh my god.

“oh, t-that’s good. for a second i thought-”

“baby . . .” you took his face in your hands and wiped the tears that escaped him with the blanket. “i got better before i got past the point of saving. it was difficult, and i thought i’d never get past it. but i did. i’m here right now,” you smiled at him as a good memory washes over you. “do you know what helped me? books. i picked up a book, and then i was just reading through it all.” really, that’s when the obsession started. you stopped running, and got transported into different worlds and dimensions. instead of ridding of the memories, you override them with entertaining stories and useful knowledge.

jungkook smiled back at you, his rosey nose scrunching adorably. of course. her life do literally depends on them.

“i’m so proud of you. and i hope you are, too. you’re so kind, and brave, and strong.” for the first time, someone who knew about it looked at you with no sympathy or judgement. his eyes twinkled of admiration. as if you just did a heroic act and carried an entire airplane; as if you were his favorite person in the planet.

“i hope you’re no longer placing any blame on yourself. you deserve to be happy and celebrated. and i’ll always be here for you no matter what happens. healing is not linear. you’re not expected to be okay all the time. you don’t need to pretend with the people who love you.” he gently took your hand and kissed it, making butterflies erupt in your stomach. “thank you for the trust you placed in me. i love you. i treasure you.”

the universe was truly on my side that night.

~*~

you jolt awake, your feet kicking away the blanket. your heart is thumping against your chest and you’re shivering uncontrollably. you wrap your arms around yourself to seek for comfort, but to no avail, they don’t cease.

jungkook groans, caressing his cheek that you accidentally hit as he was mostly laying on top of you, his face buried in the expanse of your neck. he swiftly becomes alert at the sight trembling figure in the dark. he turns on the nightlight and gives his full attention to you.

“baby? another bad dream?”

“it was horrible. i was so scared.” even your voice wavers, and you curse your brain for giving you a nightmare for the third time this week. why can’t i just dream of rainbows and unicorns?

he pulls you into his arms, peppering your face with kisses. “shhh, you’re safe now. nothing will hurt you here.” you close your eyes at his calming voice, but open them again when you saw flashes of the dream. “do you want to talk about it?”

you shook your head. “just hold me?”

“of course, baby,”

“thank you,” you whisper. on another thought. “can i also have a kiss?” he chuckles at your request. he presses his lips against yours, lingering for a few seconds before placing another kiss on the corner of your mouth. the sweetest. you hum in satisfaction. “thank you. that was nice.”

“just nice?” he pouts.

“amazing? show stopping? took my breath away?” you tilt your head, acting as if you’re thinking deeply.

“that’s more like it.” he flashes you his pretty smile. “are you going back to sleep?” he rakes his fingers on your hair, carefully fixing the tangles.

you glance at the clock sitting on the nightstand. “i don’t want to anymore. i feel better now, though. go back to sleep.” you climb off him so he can lay back down but he doesn’t move a muscle.

“do you want to go and watch the sunrise?”

well, that does sound tempting but… “babe, you have work in a few hours.” you remind him, patting the space beside you.

“so? that’s fine. i don’t have much to do anyway.” he crawls out of the bed excitedly and takes your hand. “come on, babyyy,” he drags out a whine. well, i guess i don’t have a choice now.

holding hands with jungkook, you find a good spot to watch the sunset. you’re not surprised to see some people at the park already. damn, are they committed to jogging.

he halts in front of a tree. “this is a nice spot. me and my friends have been here before.” he explains as he lays out a picnic blanket. you sit comfortably to take in the place you are at. you hear the birds chirping and the leaves rustling; the cold morning breeze sweeps past you, gently blowing against your hair. you pull at the sleeves of your thick sweater to cover your freezing hands, rubbing them against one another. it’s one of those moments that feels so nice and tranqil, you could cry out of joy.

jungkook grabs your hands in his and blows warm air on them, keeping them close to his chest to casually rub. “you should’ve added another layer. you know how it gets cold in the morning.” he scolds you.

“but this sweater is really cute.” you argue. “i will risk having freezing hands for fashion.”

“no one is even around here to judge your fashion sense!”

“yes, there are. what do you call those people sitting on the bench?” you gesture to your right where the benches are located.

“they’re not even looking at you.”

“shall i strut in front of them then?”

jungkook laughs with eyes closed. a smile forms on your face at the sight. god, there is really no way someone can be so beautiful. and it seems i make him laugh a lot. maybe my job here is done.

“i won’t stop you if you want to do it.” he answers lightheartedly. you pinch his rosy cheek to indulge in your irresistible urge. he swats your arm away, covering his cheek with his hand. “stop abusing my cheeks!”

“well, stop being adorable if you don’t want your cheeks pinched.”

he fakes a gasp. “that’s fucking outrageous. i was born this way.”

“should i blame your parents instead?”

“you know what? they are to be blamed.”

“jungkook, shut up and look at the sky.”

he follows where your gaze is trained. his eyes widen as he marvels at the sunrise. the skies is painted in different shades of purple, with strokes of the orange sun. he’s not much of a morning person, so he rarely witnesses the sunrise. he thinks he might’ve been greatly missing out because, “what the fuck,”

“right?” you respond absentmindedly, completely enchanted by the view in front of you. it doesn’t look real. it looks too majestic to be real. you are once again captured in the fact that the planet holds endless wonders a person could never fully explore in one lifetime. you begin to wonder if you got to travel the world in your past life. and if parallel universes are real, how cool would it be one of other yous is watching the sunset right now?

“stay right here,” jungkook suddenly says before standing up and dashing into the distance.

“what?” your question dissolves into thin air as he turns smaller and smaller in your sight. what the fuck did that man run so fast for? whatever. you take your phone from your pocket and capture pictures. you don’t want to forget this day. you sighed dreamily. am i really awake right now?

“where the fuck did you get that?” you exclaim, puzzled at your boyfriend setting up a painting canvas. beside him are his art materials, neatly organized and well taken care of.

“from my car,” he replies as if the answer is so obvious. he reaches for something from his back and hands you a book. “may i paint you? you can read so you don’t get bored.”

you look at him in disbelief, tightly clutching one of the books he gave you. “when did i ever say no to being your muse?” his face evidently brightens at your words.

“my muse . . . thank you! just be natural. pretend i’m not here.”

he quickly gets into work, examining the colors of the sky as he mixes paint on the palette. you follow his every move, completely in awe of him. his artistic talents never fails to amaze you.

love blooms in your chest as you casually glance up to him from your book. the glow of the sky reflects on his face, and you decide he’s still the most beautiful thing you will ever get the chance to witness. you also sneakily took a picture of him for your ever growing boyfriend folder. he gets so absorbed once he touches his art materials. he’s incredibly passionate and hardworking. he has faith in his abilities, but he has never stopped seeking new ways to improve and grow. he’s inspiring, and he also motivates you to be better.

he smiles at you when your eyes meet, and it just sparks something in you. a lump grows in your throat, your eyes start watering, and soon enough the tears spill down your cheeks. soft sobs escape your mouth as you hastily wipe them away with your sweater paws, but you just can’t stop now that the dam has been released.

“you’re finally crying,” jungkook says softly. he feels so relieved that he might cry too. you find him kneeling in front you, pulling your hands away from your face. “it’s okay, darling. just let it all out. it’s not good to hold back tears.” you feel safe to fall apart in his arms and so, at last, you give in to the cathartic release. and you think, the sun graced the sky this morning to witness your long overdue mourning. grief for lost time, energy, money, and the parts of yourself forever gone.

jungkook is there the entire time, being his ever so caring self. you don’t know how long it took for your sobs to subside into tiny hiccups. you take the tissue he offered to blow your nose, looking away from him in embarrassment. he chuckles, “how do you feel?”

“i feel good. actually, i feel amazing.”

did i just really need a good cry all this time?

“thank you, baby.”

“for what?”

“for bringing me here. for everything.” your chin quivers again. he wipes your tears with his thumbs this time, before leaning down for a passionate kiss. you’re lost in the way his soft lips moved against yours, his tongue never missing a chance to tease you. he playfully bites your bottom lip and then leans his forehead against yours. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you back away and open your abandoned book, biting your bottom lip as the kiss you just shared lingers. “now go back there and finish your painting. don’t you hate unfinished works?”

his doe eyes widen, scampering back to his forgotten canvas. he pulls down his sleeves and dips his paintbrush on the palette. “where the hell did i stop?”

---

note: yn got attracted to toxicity. after being freed from the relationship she resorted to another form of it because she became well versed in self destruction. then she discovered a healthier form of escapism thru reading books :] also being w jk is making her realize that while love is unconditional, it doesn’t necessarily have to painful in order to be real. haha no i’m not projecting ??? gn

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook oneshot #bts smut

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

hey hannah! hope you are doing great darling ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ i may have a request in mind, a university/college au with jock!jk and shy art major!yn or an olympics au? with olympic athlete!jk and olympic athlete!yn (you decide which sports!) thank you so much in advance ♡

never (k)not you

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

notes: baby ok FIRST OF ALL, i’m so sorry i only got to write this now :(( it’s been three months since you sent in this request bUT well it’s here now :D thank you so much for requesting and waiting!! i really hope ur still here or else i-i... will lose it

if you squint, best friend!tae is actually rich kid tae both from the art major drabble and insufferable!!

lunch with taehyung either makes the both of you the LOUDEST motherfuckers in the planet or it’s just comfortable silence

comfortable silence’s more common whenever the two of you are in public because to put it simply

he’s cold and you’re shy!! makes sense

but god just mention his girlfriend’s name oNCE and he’ll talk your ear off and you get genuinely excited when he is

he just needs to mention gouache for less than a second and you will genuinely freak

then suddenly the both of you are the chattiest beings ever and absolutely no one will yield until they get the final say

but this

this just feels weird...

because it’s lunch and you’re not talkative and the silence is most definitely not comfortable

you just know tae has something up his sleeve and will probably catch you off-

“are you and jungkook a thing?”

...

......

it’s never actually registered in your head that you and jungkook are a THING but absolutely no one knows

literally no one

not even the dust living underneath your bedframe!! or if guardian angels existed, then they’d probably be clueless as fuck

lol wait what was that cold gust of wind on ur arms

jungkook is the dreamiest man alive and he’s been your boyfriend for what?? two years now??

and the two of you, and more of him actually, insisted to keep it private

your relationship is none of anyone’s business and it uh.,. it literally seems to be that way because sometimes even yOU forget that you’re in a relationship

jungkook avoids you like the plague and you keep to yourself like you do with all your gouache

this dynamic of no one knowing has been so instilled in you that tae’s innocent (?) question is enough to make you spiral little by little

taehyung was just harboring an idea ok

because like two days ago when you went out with him and his girlfriend for ice cream, jungkook was there too by himself

and that just seems like pure coincidence

but then they dOn’t seem like coincidences anymore when he realizes on the same day how many classes he was in where you were in

and you don’t even have the same major!!!

or when he’s walking you home because your apartment is literally on the right side of his girlfriend’s (changbin’s on the left) and he’s taking every possibility he gets

but it just so happens that uh... jungkook’s always there from a distance? like when the two of you are walking and that guy just hAD to be there at the back??

goddamn it tae should’ve gotten his parents’ offer for personal security while he’s studying in campus :((

“woah woah wOAH what’s the matter?” you panic when he shoves you inside your apartment the moment you manage to open it

“this fucking jungkook guy is either stalking you or me and it’s starting to get on my nerves!!”

“... taehyung-“

and then he realized that oh... ok... i see

what if this guy has a crush on you??

but it didn’t make sense because why would this soccer guy (no offense) that’s a jock (no offense) who always either looks high with how giggly he is (no offense) or bereaved with how he scowls (no offense) could POSSIBLY like you???

you who’s the art major (no offense) with your clothes almost exactly like he is (no offense) that he has an inkling that either you were copying him or him copying you (no offense) and the shyness that you absolutely wouldn’t talk to anyone unless they go first and tHAT even became a tough cookie for him!! h i m

wait

on another thought...

that does make sense

you and jungkook are more likely to be a couple than anyone else more alike to either of you, no offense :D

and the way now that you’re frozen and scoffing like ur voicing mater’s engine in cars

“w-what? FUCK no!!”

mhmmm

yeah that’s the spot

taehyung means this in full offense but you’d be absolutely bankrupt if ever you wanted to try your hand at poker when your tell is literally cussing in capital when you’re flustered

this is the equivalent of your mom leaving you by the line to the cashier at the grocery when she needs to get something and you’re next at the line and you have no money on you and you’re too hesitant to tell the person behind you to-

“why? are you thinking of asking him out?”

he hears you seethe and that’s only the second time he’s heard you actually do that so he may have straightened his posture a lil

you wouldn’t hold it against taehyung because jungkook is one fINE specimen and tae doesn’t stare from that description anyway

you just can’t help but feel a lil.....

ಠ_ಠ

because you know that jungkook is yours and when it comes to things like these, you can’t do anything about it

how could you??

fine... if taehyung tries to-

smack!

the fact that your friend has a gigantic palm for one doesn’t soothe the gears in your head

you’re positive that your brain actually shook inside your head for a split second

“i already have someone, dumbass.”

taehyung has to remind you again to which you immediately awe in remembrance, a sheepish smile on your face bc for a moment, you actually considered begging for tae to back the fuck off without making it seem you’re already with jungkook

he waves you off because you’re about to coo at him again, a small smile on his face because he wouldn’t forget how he’s so lucky

it’s nice to be in love!!

you should probably try it some time

but then again, taehyung’s starting to think that you’ve been in a longer relationship with jungkook than him in one, so he thinks that he should be the one taking notes from you

“can i, uhm, ask how did you know?”

you don’t mind swallowing your pride because you already know you can’t bullshit your way out of this one, a timid look on your lap

sheesh

tae’s pride seems to swell up because his suspicion’s right just by oNE singular try

“because i’m rich kid kim :) don’t you know that?”

see now this is only one of the few times that he’d gladly take his title

rich kid kim was coined by the courtesy of changbin, his girlfriend’s friend :/

it just seemed to STICK on everyone else after then

changbin was the first to narrate his actions like he’s the lead star of a poorly-produced netflix film

what’s wrong with rich kid kim? is his greeting every time he crosses paths with changbin

he was just pissy that oNE time!! it was ONE time

taehyung thinks of the whole jungkook situation and relates it to him as much as possible because ya know,,, he is the main star and koo’s just a second lead

ok changbin’s netflix narrations are really rubbing off on him

“think of jeon jungkook as an elitist that everyone wants to be close with, and yet he actually looks like one of the good guys — like me — and he looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot when he gets offered caviar oNE more time, and then you’re like uh, the comic relief???”

he spews his interpretation all in one breath effortlessly and you’re just blinking slowly to try and digest it all

it’s oddly too specific

hol up now why does it sound like he’s been actually waiting for you to ask him that

HOLD ON YOU’RE THE COMIC RELIEF???

“a clowN?” is what you react first and tae can’t believe that that’s the only thing you picked up from his perfectly sound analogy

“uhhhh like a bartender? a waitress? someone that isn’t a socialite,” he shrugs as he tries to make amends, remembering that the last time he went to a rich kid kim party, no one was technically in pennywise shoes nor juggling bowling pins

“are you trying to insult me tae?”

:((

yIKES are u gonna cry

“what?? no!! no!!” he launches from his seat as if he was falling and that catches him a couple of glances from rich kid kim loyalists (there’s a lot of things he’s unaware of), about to punch the floor if only their lord and savior didn’t take it in stride, “i’m not trying to insult you, but it’s how you take it, y’know?”

his nonchalance puts you on the edge even more, launching from your seat and uh you don’t exactly have any concerned fanbase there to worry for you

“so i sHOULD?? tae you’re basically saying that-”

alright that��s it

he needs to actually get through you this time because more often that not, you are so fucking stubborn that it beats him

he glares at you, eyes looking comically large and pissy as he’s stopped in the middle of slurping from his cup noodles to talk some sense into you

it feels like an eternity until he finishes his noodles and you were almost tempted to just eat the remaining portion to fasten his pace

“in rich kid kim terms, or reality y/n terms?”

you’re almost too scared to answer but you already do before you can even process, raising two fingers

and for a moment, you think tae’s actually gonna go easy on you!

whew you definitely aren’t prepared if-

“do you come out together by the main door? or from the back?”

your eyes are as large as they could possibly be and if you stay in that same shocked and taken-aback state, you’d need to look for those creams with how much your eyebrows and your forehead are creased

u-uh well now that i think about it-...” okay maybe you and jungkook don’t come into uni by any of the several hundred main entrances at all, but that doesn’t mean-

“does he hold your hand? carry your backpack? doesn’t matter if you have a dumbbell in there or not, does he carry it?” tae lists item after item, racking through his mind as these were also all the things he does, and all the things he’s picked up from everyone

“does he bring your water? lend his hoodie when you’re not even sniffling? pick a fight when someone even looks at you the wrong way? read something relatively romantic in english lit, then text you about it? brag about you to his friends? does he-...”

...

....

okay

you are awfully too silent for even your nature

tae was blissfully obvious just two seconds ago when he was enumerating boyfriend traits (that he himself exhibited, excuse you) left and right

then he started to realize that you weren’t stuttering nor interjecting on the side

he’s :O when you’re standing up from your seat, straightening out your hoodie, one that isn’t jungkook’s, that you’ve been anxiously wrinkling for the past ten minutes

“excuse me, tae. i have uh.. i have a lot to think about.”

everything he’s said made a solid number on you because not even distracting yourself becomes successful

not even your mini fixation on gouache helped you because so far it really sucks

it’s become a routine of jungkook to come over to your apartment almost everyday that it practically feels he’s living with you

he knows where you keep your milk and how cold you want the AC to blast and how you organize your groceries

and yet jungkook can’t-

“koo do you love me?”

it’s a question that was sprung so suddenly because come to think of it, you’re knitting and jungkook’s head is buried in your thighs while he tries to take a nap

he doesn’t bother trying to figure out your thought process because it’s a question that’s so simple that it seemed trivial

jungkook’s a dream when he nods and hums to your thighs, making you tread your hands on his hair instead of your roll of yarn

“mhmmm. more than life itself.”

he loves loves you!!! he doesn’t even know why you’re asking

“okay,” you hum back, crouching down to press a kiss on his nape that he appreciates because he’s a little ticklish on that spot, “hold my hand tomorrow then.”

:-)

jungkook launches from his position on your thighs, sitting up immediately that it’s gotten him dizzy

“... w-what?”

oh boy here it goes

you don’t feel like dancing around this issue anymore because after all, you do have the right to stick your finger in this!!

he’s your boyfriend i mean like what’s not clicking

“it’s not that big of a deal, jungkook. it’s not like i asked you to propose to me or something.”

his eyes widen more at that, his cheeks puffing out and it makes you realize that taehyung was right and it dOES look like he’s hiding a goldfish in there sometimes

you try to bite back a laugh at that but jungkook is devoid from any entertainment at all, looking like you just asked him to pick between you and the universe

“you uh want me to propose??”

he has his hand awkwardly caressing his nape and his cheeks flush as he’s trying to process things

yeah he DOES love you and he’ll marry you eventually but you’re doing this now!!! as in now??

how’s your wedding gonna work? god, can the two of you decide on the menu for your reception? does this mean your aunts and his aunts would mee?? no no that could not possibly be-

“you don’t need to,” you sheepishly mumble and you’re not gonna deny that marrying jungkook did cross your mind every once in awhile

you aren’t against it but marriage is not the issue at hand!! it’s just about him hOLDING your hand tomorrow and not forever now

“so you don’t want me to?”

...... christ where is this going to

there’s palpable tension in the air and you just feel like giving up, sinking further into the couch and koo’s reading TOO much into it

what if you slouching on the couch means you’re breaking up with him and you wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last person alive

“if you aren’t ashamed of me, or if you don’t feel like dYING when i’m five feet away from you and your jock friends-“

“lovie i-“

your ringless hand raises and prompts him to shut up, palms a little sweaty and fingers tired from stress-knitting

“then hold my hand. tomorrow. please.”

:-)

okay fine then

last night wasn’t exactly the best experience because you felt a little too distant even if he was enveloping you into his arms

last night, kook didn’t even dare to try and press mischievous kisses from your jaw to your shoulder because you felt untouchable with how wringed you were

then he had breakfast by himself much earlier and had to practically sHAKE you awake to whisper that he’s gonna leave earlier because he has a plan, and then proceeds to tell you to act as if you didn’t know that he has a plan, then go back to sleep and forget altogether that this literal rude awakening even happened

if you ask him, he is wearing the most boyfriend fit ever in this entire universe

which is uh his regular outfit of a fit shirt and a cool-looking jacket with chunk boots thrown on top of it

BUT!!!!

hear him out ok

he’s wearing a bracelet

uh huh

a bracelet...... that has the iNITIAL of your name

yuh how romantic is that

man both hallmark and netflix must be bankrupt because of jeon jungkook!! he’s sure of it

he just knows

the big deal of it all is jungkook waiting for you by the stairs, bouncing on heels out of displaced nervous energy because he’s too jittery to just coolly lean against the wall

“kook?”

you’re tilting your head at the sight, a little lost but more on fond as he smiles squarely

“y/n! it’s uh, it’s you! wow!!”

he exclaims but not without tucking his hands into his pockets and non-discreetly looking around your surrounding before he deems it clear enough, which is what you still find useless for him to even do it!!

the whole point of this is to not care!!

he’s gingerly placing himself beside you and although it’s not exactly what you asked for, it makes you sigh a breath of relief because it’s been tOO long that you’ve been next to him in this public atmosphere

he’s not exactly far, but he isn’t exactly bumping shoulders with you either

there are some glances alright

jungkook has a loose grip on you but you could fEEL how his hand is so sweaty

he’s just looking at the floor and he allows you to guide him because if not for you, he would’ve been bumping into both lockers and people non-stop

u actually have first period together but you typically sit rowS away but now he’s just sitting on the chair right above yours

he isn’t next to you but he’s literally above you, so maybe you’ll take it

you can’t exactly text taehyung how it’s going because he could see everything from where he’s seated at

this was supposed to be an enjoyable time :(

a nice, giggly, warm enjoyable time with jungkook

but being this unrestricted meant him being so rigid that quite frankly, you’ve grown sick and wary of it in less than an hour

you’re making your way to the library and jungkook’s sTILL following you when you were sure he wouldn’t have

and if you ask him, he doesn’t know either why he followed you

he jus did it without thinking even if it meant him taking quick steps behind you with his head down

he doesn’t know why you’re here and he feels a little guilty that he should know it if this was already a part off your routine

but this time, jungkook can’t look at you because this time, you’re the one who’s unreachable

who kNOWS what your empty stare could possibly mean

“we don’t have to do this anymore, y’know.”

that’s the quickest way to conclude it, nodding to yourself surely

meanwhile, jungkook is a millisecond away from a goddamn mELTDOWN

“w-what do you mean?”

“this!” you genuinely chuckle and even wiggle your hands around to make a point

he swears to god rn that he is gonna BLUBBER

“a-are you breaking up with me right now?”

his voice is already cracking and it reminds him that oh, yeah, the two of you are in the library and he’s about to cRY

you’re gasping when you take his trembling hand and jungkook wants to snatch it back and beg you to hold it tighter at the same time

oh no :-)

“it’s okay. i don’t mind anymore. and what, we’re gonna graduate like a year from now! doesn’t matter anymore.”

but wait it SHOULD matter

he’s gonna cry oh god oh god he’s gonna-

“you don’t need to change for me.”

:((

so that’s what

jungkook cries and it’s from relief that no, you aren’t breaking up with him

“o-okay,” he nods as he wipes his own tears that are blurring his vision and there’s sO much that he actually worries if it would budge his contacts

he just wants a hug from you to console him like you always do

but instead, you look around, settle on tapping his chin, then standing up

“cheer up. i’m gonna go eat lunch with felix.”

and then yOU’RE the one leaving him

quick

does he really look like a red-nosed, bleary-eyes, puffy-lipped mess??

say sike rn lads

jungkook clearly doesn’t look the best and he doesn’t exactly know what he was doing when he came out of the library and marched over to hang out with his friends like he always did

but something’s just different

he looks like someone whose world turned upon him and has nothing left to himself

surprisingly, it’s not hobi who’s the only one thinking of that

his friends are all ????

“y’okay man??”

namjoon’s the first to break the silence and everyone sighs because they were all holding a breath just by looking at jungkook’s distraught state

“yeah! just, uh, just —“

he’s back to being preppy in an instant but he can’t establish eye contact, swinging his arms by his sides and looking around just to look natural and gOD IS THAT YOU??

you’re you

you’re there, walking with felix and your backpack on hIS shoulder

.,., the same backpack that he’s bought you one birthday ago, on tHIS dude’s shoulder strewn as if he didn’t panic in between which variant should he buy for you

you look blissfully unaware that he’s cried himself just by thinking about you and your words and lack of actions just awhile ago

“nothing.”

jungkook grits out and suddenly, he isn’t sad anymore :D

just uh

just a lil frustrated :D agitated :D or maybe feeling a little inadequate and outraged :D

this other mini breakdown going on his head doesn’t go unnoticed because here he is, so close to injuring his fist with how tight he’s clenching it

the guys, however.,.,

seokjin whistles and goes as far to squint his eyes intentionally that he looked like a distraught chihuahua, immediately grabbing jungkook’s actions as he nods his head to your direction

“y/n, right?”

jungkook froze and everyone is just waiting on him, mouths a little parted because they’ve caught on jin’s little plan and somehow, he might’ve struck a chord sO hard that-

“keep your fucking dick in your pants, seokjin.”

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

everyone’s reacting to his seething like a flock of seagulls to a piece of bread

yeah they’ve seen the youngest of their group mad, but not tHIS type of mad that he looks like he would’ve hit his hyung with a skillet upright if he had one onhand

everyone’s visibly offended besides seokjin, the man mentioned just amusedly shrugging his shoulders with a dimpled smile that unintentionally provoked jungkook even more

“told you,” yoongi gives up his last batch of cookies to namjoon, a long-winded bet finally coming to an end because of what was only supposed to be a harmless question by jin

“if y/n was your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so!!”

jin ruffles his hair and it doesn’t exactly take a genius to see how he cares for you!!

jungkook looks out for you in ways he couldn’t even notice doing

he always had two umbrellas in his backpack and when it was raining, he’d leave one on purpose by the front of this specific locker

hoseok actually borrowed an eraser without permission from kook once, but then he found a combination of tampons n napkins that he grimaced because what :// those aren’t even the good brands!! he has a sister and now has a handful of knowledge about monthly visits, so he takes note to talk to jungkook about it some time

there’s even an extra sweater in his backpack that always remains unotuched

one time, jimin complained that he was cold and turned to jungkook, full-well knowing that the fucker had oNE more sweater tucked in his bag, who just plains-out ignore him and even tch!s him under his breath

they somehow had a clue all along and now that jungkook realizes, he may be a little dENSE

OH RIGHT

WHY WOULD HE HAVE KEPT YOU HIDDEN

that’s entirely stoopid of him

what was the reason lmao

this time, jungkook’s more than eager to make it up to you

eVEN if you’ve insisted that nothing was wrong!!

it was just the last day before christmas break so it went by considerably fast-paced because even the professors were a little antsy to come home!!

that didn’t stop him, because clearly, jungkook holds your hand tight this time and he’s looking straight ahead

he looks proud

he feels natural and giggly the whole day that you couldn’t stop either because it’s a complete 360 from yesterday

wouldn’t absolutely stop holding your hand and following you

even kisses the top of your head like a kitten repeatedly

eVEN SAT IN A CLASS HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE WITH YOU

something’s up with jungkook alright

the two of you are back again on the couch — you knitting, and him buried and napping on your thighs

it’s a bit of a shock when he grabs your hand all of a sudden, a half-sleepy and full-on dreamy look on his face when he’s looking up at you from being laid down on your lap

a red silicone band :D

you’re still speechless when he’s sliding it on your ring finger, admittedly getting the wrong finger the first time which is why he’s sheepish and holding back a giggle

“jungkook....?”

unsurprisingly, it looks good on you

he seems to think so himself when he’s giving you another one, holding his hand out and you’re doing the same without even an explanation present

“it’s a placeholder :)”

a placeholder?? hold on ur heart is a lil fragile

your eyes widen and your lips downturn on instinct, making him giggle as he smushes your cheeks to just let him explain

“all this marriage talk just had me thinking-”

“are you PROPOSING right now??”

both the mix of panic and excitement stains you clearly, mouth dropping open as you try to fumble for atleast something to wipe your face with

hee-hee

“maybe i am, maybe i’m not :)”

jungkook’s such a romantic it’s SICKENING

his mind drifts off and you can’t blame him!!

his family’s well-off so maybe he could cash in his next ten birthdays for a loan or maybe even a house to help ease the two of you in

maybe the two of you could even build it from the ground up

the two of you could also move into this nice apartment after graduation!! he’s been eyeing it for quite awhile actually

“you wanna get married early?”

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t :D”

jungkook’s faux nonchalance makes you grin yourself, the both of you knowing what answer he’d yield anyway

“as long as it’s you,” you declare surely, bending down to press a kiss on his nose that tickles him and makes his heart full

“as long as it’s me?”

jungkook smiles cheekily at your statement pressing kisses on the top of your thighs that’s got you fumbling at him to just embrace you immediately

he’s a little bulky with all the muscles he’s gained and worked on, a little pressured when he’s sitting on your lap upright and won’t absolutely stop kissing you sweetly

“you should start on knitting your wedding garter now :D”

#feedback pls and thank u :D hAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jock!jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic recs

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onawhimsicot · 4 years ago

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some of my favorite moments from In Other Lands in no particular order:

When Elliot gets the gift from Dale and Serene and him are completely oblivious and just kinda elbowing Luke like “ehehe check THAT out Luke, look at what a GOOD beau Dale will make! What a keeper!” And Luke is just like glaring daggers at Dale because how DARE Dale, Luke can give books to Elliot too! He has lots of books at home! You’re not special, Dale!!!! It’s probably not even a good book anyway!

When Luke is just secretly seething with jealousy because Elliot is dancing with people “wOW, sure getting along well with mY SISTER HUH? oh now you’re flirting with Adara too? IS NO ONE SAFE?”. Meanwhile, Elliot is not flirting at ALL and is just getting hounded by Sunborns left and right and exposing Luke’s crush on Dale to the world lmao.

Elliot: I’m so glad that Luke and I are friends now! Look at us, being good buds :D Time for me to learn how to be a good wingman!

Luke: hi would you like to go on a date today or tomorrow

Luke getting hurt by the Trigon ball and Elliot immediately flipping out like “I will END your life, Dale, I will absolutely and completely destroy you and you will never see the light of day aGAIN-- oh Luke is okay? Haha jk jk, you know me, a real kidder!”

In a similar vein, Luke going “Elliot is the worst, i will never ever forgive him, he is dead to me, actual scum of the earth-- oh you apologize? Well, it wasn’t that big a deal, don’t even worry about it”. Truly, soulmates.

Basically these two are just constantly going 0 to 100 to 0 to 100 at all times and I love them

#Shocking absolutely no one I am once again rereading In Other Lands #a lot of them are of Luke pining because i love the pining in this book haha #this list would honestly be longer but this is mostly just off the top of my head #in other lands #please feel free to add on haha #sunbrat

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

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unfair, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, ft. yoongi

summary: Min Yoongi lived a simple life, alone in his apartment with his dog, Holly. Then he (and his dick) noticed his next-door neighbor. And her boyfriend. But nothing was going to come out of that. They weren’t trying to seduce him... right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (jk/you); pining/slow burn; overheard smut; smut (fem reader, threesome, m and f-receiving oral); lil fluff; starts off with Yoongi’s POV, then changes to yours when it gets... fun. ;)

Min Yoongi had a problem. A problem most men probably had, but not a problem he was used to. He wasn’t a thirsty kind of guy. For most of his life, he really didn’t care about sexual shit. He had fallen in love, sure, but that was the gradual feeling, the kind that grew slowly but surely, and ultimately burned out when the girls would basically tell him he was boring as fuck. Which he knew he wasn’t. He was just… really garbage at being romantic.

Of course, he was older now, so he had some idea of romance and showing affection, not for his sake but for the sake of loving someone. Even if he was bad at it, the whole point was to try. To be honest, he hadn’t actually put that theory into practice yet, but that was what he had concluded after his last break-up. But now he had a problem.

It was not fucking fair how fucking hot his next-door neighbor was.

It just wasn’t. To whatever higher power was up there, what the actual fuck? Why do this to him, Min Yoongi, of all people? He was a kind boy. A good soul. He didn’t need to step out of his apartment to walk his dog Holly to see his next-door neighbor in a sports bra and leggings wiping her brow with a towel after her morning run. A little sweaty, cheeks flushed, skin glistening. Holy fuck. To top off that banging body, she looked up at him and gave him a confident smile and a polite nod before going into her apartment. Not even embarrassed.

Fuck. Now he had to walk his dog with a hard-on. Great.

To make it even worse, he was pretty sure she was taken. A guy would come around and they would leave together, probably to go on dates. Usually he was in sweats and a bucket hat but this time Yoongi saw him in slacks and a dress shirt.

And, oh, holy hell.

Of course, the guy was fucking handsome as fuck. Nice broad shoulders and muscular arms. Cute face with a mischievous smile and nose scrunch when he laughed. A sweet, tiny mole underneath his lower lip and another on his cheek. Neat black hair swept to one side, begging to have hands running through those strands. Round, brown doe eyes. Thighs could probably crush him and Yoongi would be happy about it. And then she came out of her apartment in her tight black dress and heels, sliding into the guy’s arms so easily and giving him a kiss. The dress showed off her nice round ass and juicy, squeezable thighs.

It was all fucking terrible for Yoongi.

“Ooh, you’re looking pretty for me today, love.”

“Wow, Jungkook, contain yourself for one second so we can at least eat first.”

“I’m ready to eat something, that’s for sure.”

He was not creeping; he was collecting a package outside his door. That was it. He was not the least bit interested in what was going on next to him.

Holly raced out of his apartment, his tiny fluffy brown butt bouncing as he rushed to the people, barking excitedly. Yoongi nearly dropped his package in surprise, shoving it under his arm and rushing over.

“Holly, no! I’m so sorry–”

The guy, Jungkook, laughed as he crouched down, barking back at Holly playfully.

“Aren’t you cute? What’s your name, little one?”

His next-door neighbor smiled at him. Yoongi was ready to crawl into a hole in embarrassment. Not only was he looking frumpy as fuck in a stained white t-shirt and black sweats, but he was also struggling to wrangle Holly with a large box under his arm. To top it off, Jungkook was not making it any easier by chasing Holly around. Yoongi’s black hair was messy and unbrushed, long enough to almost cover his eyes. He was basically a hobo compared to these two.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, he’s a bit–”

“It’s okay.”

He froze up. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

He swallowed. “H-Holly.” Oh shit. He accidentally looked at her chest. Why did she have such pretty collarbones? She seemed not to notice. Instead she looked over to Jungkook who was wrestling with Holly on the floor and rubbing his belly.

“He’s really cute,” she said with a smile. “You don’t mind if Jungkook plays with him a little, do you?”

“N-no,” Yoongi mumbled, biting his lip. She had plump, shapely lips stained red.

She held her hand out. “I only moved in last month.” He placed her hand in hers. She had a nice, firm handshake. She was telling him her name and he was imagining her hand wrapped around his cock. He needed to get a grip.

“Min Yoongi,” he said robotically. What are social skills? Yoongi didn’t remember any of them at the moment.

“That’s Jeon Jungkook,” she was saying, pointing to the young man on the floor. Holly was licking his hands excitedly. Yoongi noticed a small heart tattooed onto Jungkook’s right hand. Fuck. He had nice hands too. His cock was waking up. Oh fuck.

“Come on, Holly, we have to go now.”

“Aww,” Jungkook whined. Why the fuck was this guy so fucking cute? Please have mercy. Jungkook waved to Holly with a smile. “See you later, Holly!”

Yoongi bowed awkwardly and scurried back into his apartment, Holly bounding in behind him as he shut the door. He barely even squeaked out a goodbye. He didn’t have a chance because – yup, now he had a giant boner.

Holly wagged his tail and barked up at Yoongi, who sighed and shook his head.

His brother asked to take Holly for a while. It was fine with Yoongi; his older brother was going camping with his wife and Holly loved being outdoors. Actually, he invited Yoongi, but Yoongi knew he wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of guy and suggested Holly to go instead. Holly loved Yoongi’s brother – maybe even more than Yoongi himself, the traitor. To be honest, if his brother decided to have kids soon, Yoongi had always said it would be a good idea for Holly to grow up with them. Dogs were an essential part of childhood, after all.

That’s why Yoongi was sitting alone in his apartment, reading, with no dog noises around him to distract him. It was nice, quiet, and serene.

Or it would be, if it wasn’t for his next-door neighbor literally fucking up a storm.

Instead, Yoongi was seething at the shared wall next to him as he was very clearly hearing someone getting banged. Which was fine, because people were allowed to do what they wanted. Yoongi didn’t care. Except he did kind of care, because he was absolutely sure it was Jungkook fucking the daylights out of his hot-as-fuck next door neighbor. It was also upsetting because his dick was suddenly awake and saying hello as if he had been called to attention.

But, nope, it was just Yoongi sitting alone glaring at the wall that separated him and giving the two of them a piece of his mind.

Or his meat.

He frowned and made a face. He didn’t have thoughts like that. No, not him, Min Yoongi. He was pure, he definitely did not have any naughty thoughts, nope, not a single o–

A particularly lustful moan of Jungkook’s name cut though his thoughts.

Was he sitting at the chair closest to the wall? Maybe. Well, he was. Could he just move to his kitchen and not hear anything? Yes. Was he going to move?

No.

What number was this anyway? Did Jungkook have the stamina of a horse or something? Not that Yoongi cared, mind you. He certainly did not. It was interesting to think about, that’s all. And then he heard something he thought he would never, ever hear.

“Oh, fuck, Yoooongi!”

Um, what? Did he hear that correctly? Yoongi sat up, raising an eyebrow at the wall. It must have been his imagination, surely, because the sound of skin on skin was not stopping. There was no way she had said the wrong name by accident, right? And Jungkook wouldn’t just let her blurt some other guy’s name out for no reason, right?

He glared at the wall suspiciously, as if it could answer.

Eventually the sounds died down, which was a relief. Hours went by and all Yoongi could think about was her saying his name. There was no way she accidentally said his name while getting fucked by Jungkook. Making that kind of mistake was unforgivable. He ended up ordering take out because to be honest he couldn’t really concentrate on cooking. Yoongi frowned as his doorbell pinged, walking to the door automatically. He must have manifested his thoughts or something like that. He placed his hand on the knob and opened it. It was his imagination, surely–

“Hey, did you order delivery? The person accidentally dropped it off at our door.”

Yoongi almost fell over.

His next-door neighbor blinked at him as he struggled to find his words. She was wearing a big baggy white t-shirt that clung to her body. No pants. The bag was in front of her chest. He could barely see the light pink of her panties.

“Ah, it wasn’t the other door. Is it his?”

Jungkook bounded over, black hair messy, his doe-like eyes wide with curiosity. Grey t-shirt, gray sweatpants. Tattoos going up his right arm. Yoongi nearly had a heart attack seeing his muscular arms.

“Uh, ah–yes, it’s mine, sorry–”

She smiled and held it out to him.

“Here you go.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his head – she wasn’t wearing a bra, holy shit – and he nearly dropped the bag if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s quick reflexes placing his hand at the bottom of the bag.

“Whoa, careful there.”

Thankfully his arm was now blocking her tits so Yoongi snatched the bag and bowed profusely, mumbling apologies.

“Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said brightly. “Enjoy your meal.”

She waved and Yoongi finally looked up, seeing her body turned away from him. Oh, whew. Then he looked up to their faces.

And found both of them smirking at him before they went back into her apartment.

“They’re fucking with me, Hoseok!”

“Calm down, hyung. I think you’re thinking about it too much.”

That’s what his best friend Jung Hoseok told him over dinner. Yoongi was having none of it.

“How can I be over-thinking it when they’re smirking at me at my front door?”

Hoseok winced. “I don’t know, maybe you imagined it. Why would your next-door neighbor and her boyfriend do something like that?”

“I don’t know, it’s not bad, it’s just–”

“Wait, you like it?”

“… I didn’t–”

Hoseok had burst out laughing like a lunatic.

The laughter rang in Yoongi’s ears as he stood at his front door, silently fuming. He shouldn’t have told Hoseok. But who was he supposed to tell? He wasn’t that close with many of his friends, after all. And Hoseok didn’t end up being mean about it in the end. Yoongi rubbed his forehead, shoving his hair under his black cap. Ah, it was probably just an empty hope after all. He was over-thinking it. Only an absolute loon would think that his next-door neighbor and her boyfriend wanted to have a threesome with him.

“Yoongi?”

He jumped, jerking away from his door suddenly. She stared at him, lip quivering, a worried look on her face. Cropped pink sweatshirt and leggings. Whew, at least she was clothed.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Is this a bad time?”

“I wasn’t scared,” he said automatically. “Only surprised.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, what was it?”

“Oh, I just…” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, fluffing her hair. Fuck. Stop being cute. “I don’t mean to pry, but I haven’t seen you walk Holly lately. I was wondering if he was okay?”

Oh. Right. His dog. “Ah, Holly is with my brother right now. He’s fine. We sort of have shared custody of him since we all grew up together,” Yoongi added with an awkward smile. Ack. Social skills, what even are they?

“Oh, that’s a relief!” She placed a hand on her chest and smiled. “I’m sorry if I was being too nosy.”

He waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Who wouldn’t notice? You always looked so happy walking him.” He was pretty sure his heart was going to burst if she kept smiling at him like that. “You’re so cute when you smile.”

“Ah…” Hang on, what? His cheeks began to warm.

“You must love dogs.”

Right. His dog. He chuckled. “I don’t usually, but somehow Holly made his way into my heart.”

She looked rueful. “I’m jealous of him.”

What?

“It must be difficult to win your heart.”

Was she… flirting with him?

She smiled innocently at him but those eyes were giving him a different story. The mischievous sparkle made his response die in his throat. He stared at her for a good minute.

“What… about Jungkook?”

“What about me?”

Yoongi felt his entire body freeze. He was caught. Shit, shit, shit.

Jungkook brushed past him ever-so-slightly, hand lingering on Yoongi’s jacket-covered arm before he hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead. She smiled up at him. Jungkook grinned at her and turned back to Yoongi with a bright bunny-like smile.

“Hey.”

Yoongi looked away quickly, realizing he was observing much too closely. “Er, hello.”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

He swallowed and looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Her lips curved into a sly smile.

“If you’re ever feeling up to it, we would love you to come over sometime.”

Jungkook grinned. “Any time!”

Oh, fuck. Jungkook’s hands were on her waist, sliding down slowly. Tongue in his teeth as she leaned against his chest with that foxy smile. Yoongi opened his mouth, but the only sound he made was an awkward croak. He coughed and looked away.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Yoongi hastily fumbled with the door lock and ran into his apartment, praying that neither of them could see his blushing face and his massive hard-on.

“They said you could come over any time. You are not crazy. You are just being nice.”

Yoongi stood in front of his next door-neighbor’s door like a zombie, clutching one bottle of red wine and a bottle of whiskey for dear life. He had contemplated his outfit three times before deciding that a long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans, and ripped gray denim jacket was not trying too hard. But just to be sure, he wore his nicer black boxer briefs and not the ones with holes in them.

Just…

In case.

“They don’t want to fuck you. They’re being nice.”

The door suddenly opened.

Yoongi’s eyes went wide. He sputtered. “A-ah!”

Oh my god.

Was it even possible for a woman to be this pretty? Decked in a floaty, red dress with a delicate bow around her neck and fluffy white slippers, his next-door neighbor seemed surprised to see him. The fabric floated down and clung to her curves, dipping inward in between her legs. Her eyebrows raised in surprise and her plump lips curved into a small ‘o’.

“Yoongi! I wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes! Jungkook told me he just arrived.”

“I’m here, darling.”

Jungkook’s deep voice purred behind Yoongi. The older man nearly jumped and turned to see Jungkook right behind him – how long had he been there? Black t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black sneakers. Jungkook’s lips curved into a mischievous smile and he leaned over Yoongi, his chest brushing against Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi felt his heartbeat skyrocket at the sudden closeness until he realized Jungkook was kissing his girlfriend on the forehead, patting her head gently.

“Fancy for a just watching a movie,” Jungkook teased. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I just bought this dress! I can wear whatever I want.”

“Yes, you can, and you look cute in it too.”

Yoongi would have been paying attention except he suddenly felt Jungkook’s hand against his back, sliding slightly downwards. He froze, breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t that he was starved for intimacy or anything. Okay, maybe he was a little bit, but, shit, what was he supposed to do with two very obviously hot as fuck people were seducing him? Ignore it?

No, he most certainly was not.

Yoongi stumbled, nerves rattling him. He felt strong arms hold him straight.

“Oh, sorry, did you trip?” Jungkook asked, worry laced in his voice.

“Ack, where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

He felt Jungkook push him lightly. Yoongi swallowed and stepped inside the apartment, still clutching the two bottles of alcohol for dear life. He was afraid that if he let go, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from… uh. Things. Breathe deep, Min Yoongi. You are not fifteen.

“These… are for you.”

He held out the two bottles to her. She tilted her head as she read the labels, taking them from him. It took all of Yoongi’s power not to grab her tits.

“Oh, thank you! Look, Jungkook, he bought red wine, your favorite!”

Jungkook bounded past him excitedly and took the bottle from her. “Ah, yesss! All for me!”

Yoongi blinked. “You don’t drink?”

She tapped the whiskey bottle. “I do. Just not wine.”

Watching a movie? Yeah, right.

How was Yoongi supposed to watch anything at all? One look at Jungkook in his loose black t-shirt and, fuck, he was reminded the guy’s entire right arm was tattooed. Holy shit. And her? Wrapped so nicely in floaty red fabric with that bow around her neck. It meant the dress had a deep neckline and he could see the curve of her cleavage, the plushness of her breasts.

Fuck this movie. Yoongi literally had no idea what was on the screen at this point.

She leaned against Jungkook as he sipped his wine. Every so often, she poured herself a shot of whiskey and drank it. Like… what? Granted, it wasn’t very much, but he had never seen a woman just… do that. She would smile and settle back onto the couch, into the curve of Jungkook’s arm. His tattooed arm. Jungkook would then drape it around her again, fingertips almost touching her breast. All this, happening within ten inches of Yoongi, who was sitting on her right side.

He didn’t know what number he was on now. Yoongi wasn’t a lightweight but he couldn’t calm his nerves either. Nerves or growing lust?

Both.

Yoongi looked away and stared at the screen. He didn’t know what he was looking at. All he could think about was faceplanting into those tits and Jungkook’s hands all over him. Or her sitting on his face as Jungkook sucked him off. Or, her sitting on Jungkook’s face and him sucking Jungkook off–

“Yoongi.”

He nearly flung his glass in surprise but she reached over and took it from him. Her breasts brushed against his arm and Yoongi stiffened, trying to keep his face neutral.

“I think you need to slow down. Are you okay?” she said worriedly, placing the whiskey glass on the coffee table.

“No.” He shook his head quickly and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

Jungkook and her stared at him.

Yoongi raised a hand and took a deep breath. “Er… I am getting this feeling,” he said awkwardly.

She tilted her head. “Hm?”

“It’s nothing.”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no. If you’re not comfortable, then we understand. You should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

No, that’s not really what I want. I want to fuck, damnnit!

“Ah…” Yoongi swallowed at the sudden attention placed on him. “It’s not that.” He was a straightforward person. He didn’t know how to make it sound metaphorical or pretty. “You two have a very strong… presence.”

She frowned slightly. “Is that bad for you?”

“N-no. It’s, er… attractive.”

Oh shit. He said it.

“Ah, I meant–” Yoongi coughed, looking away quickly. “The other day… I thought I heard my name… But it must have been a mistake, right?” He laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say such–”

A softness pressed against him. Yoongi wasn’t wearing his jacket, only his long-sleeved white shirt. He froze. The softness slid up his arm. He could feel the weight of her body against him. His brain was turning into mush. Oh god, oh god, oh god…

“You heard me?” The words purred against his neck, hot and heavy.

He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Yoongi tried to collect his words, fumbling through them.

“N-not on purpose…”

“You want me to say your name again? So you can hear it in person?”

The weight lifted. Slowly, Yoongi turned his head. His eyes trailed up her legs, to the floaty red fabric, to her waist, then up her chest to her face. She smiled slyly at him. Strong hands, one tattooed, one not, slid up her sides, grasping the bottom ties that held the bow together. Jungkook’s mischievous face popped up from behind her head. Yoongi just stared at them, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like a surprised kitten.

The bow teased apart, slowly. Jungkook’s hands slid inside the fabric, pushing it away. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. Jungkook cupped her breasts gently, rubbing his palms over them. She was wearing heart shaped pasties to cover her nipples. Yoongi was aware that he could run right now. He could have just stood up and walked out and that weirdness would have been over. Except, well…

His hand lifted. Yoongi hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes.

She smirked and wrapped her fingers around his. His heart thumped loudly in his ribcage as she led him to her chest.

“You can take it off, if you want,” she said gently.

Yoongi swallowed as his fingertips touched her breast. Oh, so soft. He hooked a nail underneath the sticky material and pulled lightly. Nothing. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Little harder, Yoongi.”

His name was a soft purr. Yoongi bit his lower lip and yanked a little harder. It came off in his hand. He blinked rapidly in surprise, hoping he didn’t hurt her. His second thought was…

Holy shit, her nipple.

It was prominent, sticking straight out at him. It would have been visible through the fabric of the dress due to its size. Thinking about that was arousing him. Yoongi felt as if his whole face was heating up. He vaguely registered Jungkook peeling off the second one and dropping it on the coffee table. Now there were two – great math there, Yoongi, he scolded himself – and he sat like a statue, unable to comprehend that this was real.

Jungkook pushed her breasts together, trapping her nipples between his index and middle finger. He rolled them slowly. Yoongi watched in fascination as her eyes slid closed and her head tipped back, a breathy moan dripping from her lips. Jungkook squeezed and kneaded her breasts, nose buried in her neck as he inhaled deeply, murmuring her name. Her eyelids fluttered.

“A-ah… Yoongi…”

There was no wall blocking his view now. It was real.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. He was still too afraid to touch.

“Y-yes?”

Her hand came up and stroked his cheek softly. He leaned into her touch, hungry. Her thumb pressed against his lips.

“Wanna kiss you.”

He cursed his bad habit of chewing on his lips, but leaned forward delicately. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, who was watching him with amusement. He wanted to ask. Are you sure? Jungkook seemed to understand and he nodded, smile turning gentler at Yoongi’s nervousness.

His eyes found hers again. Her lips parted. She led him to her face, closing her eyes slowly as her lips touched his. So soft, so gentle. It wasn’t the kiss he expected from his daydreams. It was warm and calm, soothing his nerves. His hands came up to cup her cheeks as the kiss deepened, tongue dancing against tongue. Everything just felt so soft. So lovely.

He felt Jungkook take his hands and slide them down. Yoongi gasped into her mouth as his palms touched her nipples. She moaned at his touch, nipping at his lower lip as he squeezed them, rolling her nipples with his thumb. They were just the right measure of hardness and softness. Her hands found his jeans and she pulled him closer by the waist, his body against hers.

“Yoongi-ssi…”

It wasn’t her voice. It was Jungkook’s, leaning forward and pushing up his shirt, running his hands over his skin. Yoongi gasped, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It was so obvious that Jungkook was more muscular and stronger than he was. But she held him close, kissing his jaw and neck. Jungkook’s face came into view, small smile dancing on his lips.

“I can call you that, right? Even though you’re my hyung?”

At this point, Yoongi didn’t even remember what honorifics were. “Whatever you want,” he muttered breathlessly. Jungkook chuckled and leaned forward, placing his lips on his. Oh, yes. More passionate, intense. Yoongi felt himself moan into Jungkook’s mouth and the younger man sucked on his tongue, hands along his back, pressing him into her.

It took a moment to untangle slightly. Breathing hard, Yoongi found himself looking into two pairs of lustful eyes.

“What do you want to do, Yoongi?”

Seducing Min Yoongi hadn’t been easy. There had been moments where you wondered if you had gone too far, or if Jungkook had teased him a little too much. It had been a long, carefully laid out plan. In fact, Jungkook almost gave up in the middle at one point and tried to convince you that he should hump him to get the message across. It had been a little difficult. But it was all worth it.

Because now you two managed to get Yoongi in the bedroom, flat on his back, your pussy in his face and Jungkook’s mouth on his cock. And oh, fuck, his fucking tongue. It had taken some more fondling and kisses to make Yoongi say it.

“Could I… eat you out while Jungkook sucks me off? Is that too much or–”

You grinded your hips into Yoongi’s face, sucking in a breath as Jungkook’s head bobbed up and down on Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook naked was already enough to make you wet. His muscular back, that ass, his tattooed arm, and his forearms flexing as he held Yoongi’s hips down. Could he suck dick as well as you? No, but he had a pretty good idea considering you were excellent at it. Watching Yoongi’s cock slide in and out of his mouth was a delicious sight. Yoongi’s tongue lapping at your clit had you dripping into his mouth. Somehow, he had just the right amount of pressure and roughness as he stroked you to climax, nails digging into your thighs.

You moaned in satisfaction, panting Yoongi’s name. Jungkook’s brown eyes flickered up to you and he made a muffled noise as he witnessed you playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling on them lightly. You saw his hips jerk, humping the bed. You grinned. Teasing Jungkook was fun.

Yoongi tapped your leg and you got up, concerned. But he was clutching the sheets, gasping, head thrown back as he groaned, shoving his crotch into Jungkook’s face. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gripped Yoongi’s hips, swallowing nosily as Yoongi’s entire body shuddered.

“F-fuck!”

You smiled as Jungkook sucked him dry, slowly rubbing his tongue around Yoongi’s cock as he cleaned him up. Yoongi did not seem like he was expecting this at all and moaned loudly, probably a little too loud. Jungkook dipping his head slowly, down, down, until the sensitive head hit the back of his throat. Yoongi’s face scrunched up, slipping into a moan as Jungkook slowly pulled back, Yoongi’s cock popping out of his lips.

Jungkook grinned. “Did I do good?”

You smiled. “Of course, my love.”

Yoongi squinted at him. “How the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

Jungkook pointed to you. “From the best.”

You smiled and Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Can I try something?” Jungkook asked, tugging on your arm.

You nodded. “What is it?”

Jungkook pulled you to him and kissed you, smiling against your lips. He readjusted you to be on top of Yoongi, your back to his chest. Yoongi made a disgruntled noise, but you rubbed your ass against his still sensitive cock, making him gasp. His hands wrapped around you. Yoongi had pretty hands, the kind of hands that made you pause the first time you saw him, the kind of hands you dreamed about touching you, the kind of hands that made your body melt. You were a bit disappointed that you couldn’t see Yoongi’s handsome face in his position but Jungkook was lifting your legs now, setting them on his shoulders. The condom was already on.

Jungkook smirked.

Was this man really going to expose your favorite position right now?

“Jung–fuuuuuck!”

His cock slid into you, slow and deep and hard. You yelped, feeling Yoongi grab your breasts and knead them. You liked this position for several reasons – one, Jungkook had you basically trapped under his body, and, two, Jungkook had power and gravity on his side. Thus, he could fuck you hard and deep at the same time, absolutely ruining you. And watch your face while he was doing it.

“Jungkook, ah, so deep,” you moaned, leaning against Yoongi’s chest as he pinched your nipples. Your pussy clenched, squeezing Jungkook’s cock inside you.

“That’s how you like it,” he drawled, rolling his hips into you, making his cock throb. You whimpered, looking deep into Jungkook’s eyes. Yoongi pinched your nipples and you whined as Jungkook thrust into your leisurely, burying himself in your folds.

“Whose idea was it to scream Yoongi’s name while we were fucking, hm?” Jungkook teased, fucking with such force that your ass bounced against Yoongi’s dick each time. You could feel him getting hard as your ass rubbed against it.

“M-mine,” you reply, earning you a slightly harder pace.

“So naughty,” Jungkook purred, licking his lips. “You wanted Yoongi so bad, didn’t you, love?”

You could only moan as Jungkook began to fuck you harder. Yoongi’s cock was smearing pre-cum all over you. You tried to desperately rub your ass against his cock, feeling it throb underneath you. It wetly slapped your ass every time Jungkook bounced you up and down.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grunted, kissing your neck. “Fuck, you two are seriously not fair.”

“Yoongi, ah, Jungkook…”

Yoongi rolled your nipples against his fingers and pinched them. You cried out, pussy clenching as your orgasm hit you, so overflowed with stimulation that you could barely think. Jungkook gritted his teeth, maintaining his pace as they worked you up again, Yoongi’s fingers rolling your nipples and Jungkook fucking you deep. It was an absolute mess of your own cum dripping down and Yoongi’s pre-cum mixing with it. The head of Yoongi’s hard cock was rubbing against your ass. You could watch Jungkook thrusting in and out of you, shiny and glistening.

“Ah, fuuuuck!”

You moaned as you came again, thick juices gushing down and coating Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook shuddered at your pussy tightening around him. You felt Yoongi’s hips shudder as he sucked in a breath sharply, groaning at the sensitivity as he came on your ass and up your thigh, splattering onto Jungkook’s legs.

Jungkook grinned triumphantly before fucking you even harder. It didn’t take long before he hissed, cock jerking inside you as he came, your name dragged out in a long moan. His jaw clenched, hips thrusting a little to get the last drops out of his softening cock.

After a moment, he pulled out, leaving you panting and sore in Yoongi’s arms. He got up to clean himself off, looking for a towel. Yoongi buried his face in your neck. You could feel his warm cheeks.

“Sorry about the bed,” he mumbled.

You reached back and petted his hair, breathing his name. You rubbed your ass against him and Yoongi stiffened. It made you grin.

“Stay the night, Yoongi.”

He nuzzled your hair even though he grumbled a bit.

“F-fine.”

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut

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