#woosung x you

[mangowillow]

last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude. 

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal. 

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up. 

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again. 

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted. 

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long. 

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like. 

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.” 

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes. 

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him. 

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style. 

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him. 

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one. 

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing. 

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling. 

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time. 

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct. 

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends. 

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear. 

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them. 

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground. 

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him. 

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding. 

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks. 

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself. 

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak. 

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair. 

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room. 

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster. 

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him. 

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it. 

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you. 

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you. 

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

[dramalove247]

Coping with The Heart Killers drought

Neither one of us could stop thinking about The Heart Killers and Fadel Style... but we're fixated on very different moments. The contrast will tell you a lot about our personalities. 🤣🤣🤣

Anyone else hear this song when watching Fadel??? Playing on repeat in 🐈Kat's brain while giggling to herself...

🐠Dori's brain twisting the knife Fadel left in her heart...

Less than a week to go. We can do this! Lying to ourselves is also our coping strategy.

[saturnnelahy]

I'm in love

Oh my God, I think I'm starting to get obsessed with TXT and The Rose ='( Yeonjun and Kai are so beautiful and perfect and wonderful… and Woo-sung and Dojoon from The Rose are so cute and beautiful...

I'm thinking of maybe starting to write something about them too

[daegudrama]

Word Count: ~10.6k

Coming 04/26/24

“Somehow Jimin has already sexiled us.” Namjoon says with slight irritation seeping into his tone. He pinches the bridge of his nose before looking back at you. “So, let’s go explore the city.”

“Jimin works fast, huh?” You laugh stepping out of your hotel room to follow.

[taegularities]

you're okay | myg (m)

Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: s2l/est. rel.; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: this one's heavy :') pov switches, switching between past and present, reference to the d-day documentary, mental health issues, therapy, depression and anxiety, mentioned unaliving attempt, mentions of fainting, slight mention of SA, implied panic attack, lots of trauma, lots of sadness, healing journey/healing with yoongi, feelings of loneliness, feeling unworthy, oc is very unsure and thinks she's a burden, tears and crying; explicit sexual content: (brief) protected sex, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, kissing/making out. please heed the warnings <3 ➳ word count: 11.5k ➳ a/n: hi hi. not the average taegularities fic, i think. once again, please do note the warnings before reading. it's okay if it's too heavy and you need breaks – take care of yourself. it's a very very personal piece that i just needed to get out of my system. yoongi's snooze inspired it; i still cry when i listen to it – i'm thankful it saved me in so many ways, and i hope you feel the same way about this fic. i love you all; here's to healing and living 💕 ➳ listen to: snooze by agust d ft. ryuichi sakamoto & woosung 🤍

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

The weather changes at warp speed these days.

When you left just this morning, it was raining buckets. The shower barely allowed a glimpse at the sky, grey as smoke; ominous clouds were bursting, fast cars and busy passengers on the sidewalk rushing through the world.

You were one of them, not necessarily impressed by the downpour. But you smiled when someone halted, stretching an arm to force the doors of the bus open until you were inside.

The tender gesture lit up your gloomy morning, a proof of how the world isn’t all misery and ruin. For a couple minutes and hours, that stranger’s smile lifted the weight off your leather jacket clad shoulders. You were burdened by nothing but the bag hanging on your side.

But now, the same jacket is draped over your arm and feels much heavier than before; stripped off when the sun broke through the clouds around the afternoon. The additional weight gives you grief; you’re relieved when you hang it onto a rack, step out of your shoes and drag yourself to the bathroom.

God, all actions seem so passive these days.

Passive and automatic, just half-conscious. You’re fatigued and lost in your head. Frankly, you need your bed. You hate that you still need to shower. You wish you could skip that part and still keep your body healthy and clean.

And as you stand under the water, shifting your balance to the right leg and back, you realise that another work day is over and another one is coming. Interactions, productivity, the craving your bed. You need the weightlessness.

So much so that you soon feel the knot in your chest, intensifying, and the heat of the water combines with an uncomfortable breathlessness until your knees bend a little. Immediately, you plant your palms against the bathroom tiles, taking a seat on the shower floor.

You cross your legs; the thought of your father is immediate because he always taught you to take a seat wherever once you start feeling dizzy. Since that one adolescence day when you passed out and hurt your chin, you have followed this advice and prevented worse.

Your head spins for a moment, your chest tight; and you hear a dull thump. There’s an odd rustle in your ears, mixed with the sound of the dripping water; so you don’t notice the call of your name right away.

Keeping your answer absent for another moment, you only wrap your arms around your chest, just to keep yourself whole. You feel like your body might fracture into a dozen pieces.

The shampoo bottle that presumably caused the thump before rolls against you, and you gasp in uncomfortable surprise; immediately hear another slurred, “Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

It's him; he’s always worried. Maybe that’s what you’ve been struggling with so much lately. The fact that you never suffer alone whenever the weight on your shoulder and brain drags you down too far.

A worried voice chimes again, breaking the sound of the shower jet, and you suddenly become hyper aware of his concern, rushing to finally get out. You exclaim a reassuring, “All good!” before the silence can prolong or betray you.

His calls stop, probably relieved when you add another, “Coming.”

You envelop your body in your towel; just a moment later, he knocks. You would’ve opened even if he hadn't.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and breathes in the sauna-esque air. His mouth turns into a surprised circle, and he blinks before he blows out a breath and states, “You showered hot today, huh?”

“Mhh,” you hum, “the sun never keeps me from doing so. Feels good.”

He smiles, watches your lotioned hands hydrate your skin, very slowly and very delicately. When you sigh in something he interprets as fatigue, he asks, “Do you need help?”

Four simple words, but they soothe something in your wrinkly, grey brain. The knot of stress loosens just a little, and you sigh deeply, telling him, “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to step behind you, picking up the pink, wooden brush lying on the laundry basket next to you to release the knots in your wet hair. For a couple of minutes, you indulge in the massage; and then wallow in the feeling of his hands on your face, taking over to do your skincare.

And then, gentle as he is, he helps you into your clothes. You feel somewhat pathetic, but most of all, thankful — anything to get through the night.

“You all set?” he asks once he’s done, palms on your shoulders. You touch the digits of his left hand, leading them to your lips to kiss them softly before you nod.

You follow him into the living room, detecting the still present sunrays protruding through the spots that the sheer curtains don’t filter. It’s not dark yet, but the light is slowly fading. The star is preparing to drown behind the horizon, dusk in motion.

The pretty hues give you a brief yet strange burst of motivation; often, you fear the night more despite its serene reputation. Too dark, too haunting.

Yoongi has already set the table; he starts to ladle the sundubu-jjigae into your bowl, rice in another smaller dish next to it. You sit; you feel endlessly indebted and silently terrified at once. The food looks amazing, so the taste isn’t the problem.

Your boyfriend is a good cook, and you thank the deities every day for his existence. It was much harder to get by and assemble a meal when you lived alone.

But your expression is still the opposite of what it’s supposed to be, and when he sees it, he asks, “You good? Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Then eat a little, okay? As much as you can.”

You gulp, oblige. You know your body calls for it, so you listen to it, chewing a couple bites, even though it feels impossible to actually swallow. God; you need to stop your chest and stomach from trying to convince you that everything is heavy.

Your clothes, your heart, your thoughts.

You know it isn’t true. It drives you mad when your own brain proves this treacherous, attempting to lie to you like this.

Then again, energy dwindles faster these days. Your body knows; maybe that’s why you feel tired. You need to sleep — maybe that could help you feel a bit more feathery.

But shit, you wish there was a more efficient charger for human beings than sleep, so you could be productive. Your mind won’t let you sleep properly anyway.

“Is it good?” Yoongi asks, interrupting your thoughts. He’s always the first to notice when you’re overexerting yourself, even just at dinner.

“It’s very good,” you respond truthfully, even raising your voice to make yourself sound livelier, “as I’d expect from you.”

“Then I’m glad. Thought I’d make you something good, since you worked longer.”

“Always attentive, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.” His spoon drops in his bowl, and he reaches out, touching your cheek just long enough for your heart to stir. “How was work?”

Hm…

You don’t remember too well. You know you went there at least, and you know you did whatever you had to — but you can’t recall details. So all you say without dousing the atmosphere in negativity is, “As always.”

“Was Nayeon at work today?”

“Nope,” you tell him, sending wordless, good vibes towards your best work buddy. “Still sick. A stomach bug, I think. I really hope she feels better soon.”

“Sana again then?”

“Yeah, spent most of the day with her. She’s always so sweet, though… I should talk to her more often.”

You dig into your rice again, trying it with a bigger bite this time. Then, you shake your head in apology, looking back at Yoongi as you ask, “Ah, I’m sorry, baby… how was work for you?”

“As always,” he echoes, “thought of you a lot.”

“Mhm… obsessed much?” you jest, trying a little beam.

“You know me.”

That’s it. You nod; you understand the weakness of your smile, so you lower your head altogether. He sees; of course he does. Yet, he waits and watches you toy with your food. You know the question is approaching before it lands, “Another low?”

Another low…

You could cry. You could burst into tears immediately if you didn’t feel so… empty. A vacant soul, pieces coloured by nothing but him. Yoongi sparks the magic most of the time, even drilling through the numbness.

“Yeah,” you whisper, not crying yet, but the corners of your mouth drop. “It’s been a while.”

“Months, yes? Which is great, my love.” His voice is so mellow, deep, like an antidote. “You’re doing really well.”

“Yeah.”

You are. Because at one point in your life, you used to feel this way all the time. Ever since you found somebody to rely on, someone who listens, you’ve gotten a bit better. He puts you together as if he’s resolving a dispersed puzzle.

But certain phases at certain times still hit you unexpectedly, like a revved up truck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yoongi offers.

“There’s nothing really to talk about…”

“Okay. Do it if you need to, though, okay? Eat a little more?”

You do. Fuck, you feel so babied sometimes; you wonder if he discerns things like this, too. That he isn’t really taking care of and loving his girlfriend, but rather babysitting a broken child.

You whoosh the thought away with a blink, finishing more than half of your meal before you set the cutlery aside. You down the last bite with cold water, sauntering to the bathroom, and then meet Yoongi on your bed.

He probably already put the food in the fridge and the dishes in the dishwasher; he must’ve operated rapidly to be here already, awaiting you. The laptop is open and its screen bright, and you know without stepping onto the mattress that he’s opened YouTube.

Less for him, more for you.

If he wanted to spend the remaining minutes of the night scrolling through reels, he could easily do so on his phone. But no… this feels more like an invitation. A quick, sweet date before sleep, just to watch a few animal videos that rarely ever fail to make you smile.

As you crawl into him, watching cats protecting newborn babies or dogs jumping their owners affectionately, you do smile. You laugh, even. You feel somewhat at ease here with him, but you know you’ll go back to ground zero in the morning.

When you’ve left and he’s gone to work.

And you hate it. You hate that you’re dependent on him like this… Yoongi calls it finding comfort in somebody you love, and you don’t disagree. But adding to this, you think you’re limiting his options by shackling yourself to him.

By demanding that comfort.

You sigh in his arms, breathing calmer than before, but not enough to sleep. Yet, he asks, “Hey… sweetheart. Are you awake?”

“I am.”

“I’m just thinking… Do you want me to call the therapist tomorrow?”

Shit… why does the ball of guilt keep growing? How does he think of this and you don’t? Have you really sunk this deep again? You’re stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I… I should do it myself,” you mumble.

“I don’t mind.”

“No, I’ll just do it in the morning. I think I should… do things for myself, too, right?”

He pauses. Ponders your words; or at least, that’s what you surmise from the way he breathes and sighs and hums. And you’re proven right when he inquires, “Do you feel like I mind doing things for you?”

Yes. No.

No, you do not think so. But you sure as hell waste his time. Occupy it with this nonsense when he could be happier somewhere else, living his life, making plans for the future and rambling about the job he loves.

But no…

Fucking calling the therapist for you.

You break.

It always happens in the worst moments; you don’t know what it is, how it happens, but you break. Hard. Your motions stop, maybe even your breathing. But then you do sigh, so deeply that it burns, trying to keep your voice from shaking, to keep the tears at bay.

But this time, it doesn’t work. Emotions heightened when Yoongi utters something he’s provided as a reminder over the years, “Don’t hold back.”

So you don’t.

There were days when this lesson was necessary, a gentle nudge to release the weight, and today is one of them. You weep, starting with soft whimpers that grow louder steadily, and you press into his chest until you're suddenly sobbing.

You sniffle with an aching head, holding onto him for dear life, barely noticing when your sobs, once again, morph into absolute wailing.

He embraces you, tighter with each inhale and exhale. You’re so impossibly close to him, garbling something that he doesn’t understand. His voice is pain-struck and trembling when he encourages, “Come again, baby? Talk to me.”

It takes a while; it doesn’t work. And then, he chants, “God, baby. My baby… it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No!” you cry out, slurring your words, “No… am a burden. Am fucking burdening you…”

This is a clear thought, isn’t it? Even in a moment like this, you think it’s true. And that maybe…

Maybe you should’ve never agreed to the lunch he offered you all those years ago. You would miss everything good in your life, lose the one thing you so cherish, but you’d at least rid him of you.

Those long six years ago, you should have just told him you were fine.

As a student, Yoongi always trod the same path from the second floor down to the entrance of the college, living into a routine — never really noticing much of significance. He’d see other students who’d be eating; talking; rushing to class.

And as a TA, Yoongi was used to another, different journey throughout the building, too; climbing down the same spiral staircase, hurrying through the scary, empty mezzanine, passing the same few rooms on the ground floor.

He’d prepare to go home or to the library after attending his favourite psychology professor’s classes, assisting him to his best abilities. But this was different from all the other familiar routes he’d grown accustomed to.

These Wednesday afternoons did offer something of significance. Someone of significance. 

Because every time he reached those rooms on the ground floor, you’d be there.

At first, he reckoned you always waited for your class to start, just at the time when his ended. But you were alone each time. The doors to the classrooms and lecture halls were all closed, and then there was you, a sole soul waiting for whatever miracle to appear.

It took a couple weeks for him to gather that you might not have been supposed to be there. He noticed it when he saw your eyes fixated on a spot, pupils never moving an inch, even when he walked past. At some point, he’d memorised just this expression on your face.

And then, bit by bit, he realised that your stance didn’t seem quite normal. Your eyes were dead, hands never flinching. You emanated a sense of loneliness and stupefaction that he couldn’t express in words.

Today, something in him stirred. Perhaps because he’d just covered social behaviour as a topic or perhaps because any proper human would recognise that something was wrong with you.

Your hands were holding a lidless cup that day, barely steaming anymore. You were blinking slowly, if at all. This time, he approached you with care, as if nearing a wounded deer; as if trying to keep it there and not frighten it away.

But when he leaned into you, a hand scarcely touching your shoulder, your head moved up to look at him slowly but surely. And your first reaction to him ever was a smile.

You remember that when you first looked at him, like really looked at him, his face seemed familiar to you. You were sure you’d seen him before, even if just in passing. He had this long, pretty, dark hair, covering his neck, a couple inches above his shoulders.

A kind face. A calm demeanour.

He stood there with pure relaxation between his eyebrows; one you hadn’t felt in a while despite your falling face. Flawless porcelain skin, free of dark circles, free of exhaustion. When did you last look like this?

You smiled at him instinctively, a curious expression; you couldn’t guess at all what he wanted or needed, but you were ready to listen. You’d always listen to people — listen, listen, listen. Perhaps that was the exact problem.

This very attention towards him, coming this easily, made your shoulders sink in new dejection; everything did. Every thought was intrusive, unwelcome, too stretched for your liking.

Whenever you had a normal thought or a bad one that’d at least pass immediately, you considered it a good day.

But you felt a tension around your temples by now; your head never felt at ease.

Yet, you asked, “Yes?”

And he wondered in return, “Are you okay? You looked distracted and I thought I might ask.”

“Oh… that’s nice,” you commented, your voice a bit too quiet yet surprised; you cleared your throat, spoke up, “but I’m okay. I just sit here sometimes after my classes.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. To take a little break after all the information dump, yeah. I’ll go home soon, though, no worries.”

“Hm… yeah. I just,” Yoongi started, hesitant — you now know he was trying to reveal something without appearing creepy. “I noticed you here a few times, so I wanted to ask just to be sure.”

He saw you here? You? And he came up to talk to you, just because he’d noticed you before? Baffling. You didn’t think you were visible to anybody. You thought you faded in front of others’ eyes.

“You’re honestly so nice,” is all you said, hoping your eyes didn’t reveal too much. How much his words affected you, and how they made you think you were just a little, a tiny bit perceptible.

“Sure,” he responded, nodding. And when you failed to come up with more appreciative words, he prepared to move, bidding you goodbye with a single, “Okay…”

Then, he was walking away; as grateful as you were, your energy-lacking body forced your eyes shut. You drew a deep breath. These few words you’d exchanged with him took everything out of you — that was the worst part of all this.

Interaction drained you. Loneliness drained you. The world and life were all draining, and you couldn’t figure out anymore how to feel… awake. Sober without ever drinking.

When your eyes closed, you felt your surroundings starting to spin. Or maybe, it was you; as if someone had gripped your shoulders and was turning you in circles. There were so many weird particles behind your eyelids.

The rotation was insane, but nothing new. Shut down most of your other senses and people’s voices; like the one that returned a second later, the same as before. Shit. Had he seen you struggle? Was he seeing something nobody else ever would?

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” the stranger with the familiar face asked, concern in his voice. “You don’t look like it.”

What was it? What was it about his gentle, low voice that lured you in? What was it about his attentive tone that made you want to tear up? Maybe because you’d bottled things up for so long.

But you held the liquid locked in your eyes. Proudly, barely.

“I’m…”

You considered lying. You considered pulling a lame excuse out of your ass. But something in you snapped, snapped hard, and the truth spilled just before you could think twice—

“If I’m being honest… I’m feeling pretty faint… I often do? I usually just need to sit down a bit or I’ll pass out.”

You hated using the word usually. As though your condition had become irreparable, like a chronic illness; and you were stating its treatment, only temporary.

“Hmm…” he hummed. “Have you eaten?”

“Not much…”

“Then that might be it,” he concluded, content with the deduction. In hindsight, you think he was hoping it was only that, nothing more. “Do you have something with you?” You shook your head. “Are you getting something?”

You shrugged.

You could’ve easily told the truth and said no; that the appetite was absent, that you were going to go home and hardly remember how you got there. That you’d throw your bag on the couch, take off all your clothes, not really bother for a shower and jump into your bed.

Then, you’d breathe. Survive.

You didn’t have the energy to eat, to shower, and right now, somehow not even to lie. The remainder of it had been used in today’s class and in this conversation.

He knew you couldn’t come up with any bad justification, so he offered, “Listen… I still have this sandwich with me that I was going to eat after class. You can have it if you want.”

What? That was…

“Oh, no,” you blurted, raising a hand to reject, “you should eat if you haven’t yet.”

“Look, I totally get being selfless, but you don’t look good and…” He sighed, tilting his head. Eyebrows raised and expression suddenly stricter. “If I can help anyhow, I’d rather have that than anyone else finding you unconscious here later. Please?”

How could you’ve resisted such a plea?

He was taking care of you and he didn’t even know you. And your body understood; your body heard him. Because your stomach grumbled at the mention of the meal; it didn’t mean anything to you, but it meant something to your hungry, craving body.

It often did that. Wishing to eat; then, not letting you swallow a bite.

You grabbed your bag and warily, carefully got to your feet. The man lifted a hand in caution, as if expecting for you to lose your balance. You did, just a little, swaying until you’d grounded yourself.

Goddamn it.

You nodded with a deep exhale and followed him as he suggested, “Let’s go to the courtyard. Get some fresh air. We can eat there and talk… or not talk if that's what you want.”

You kept moving your head up and down, fine with whatever. The fronts of it hurt due to the  lack of nutrition; it was past four pm and you’d only eaten a damn banana.

He found you a shadowy spot away from the sun; it was late spring, the summer steadily approaching. The shade protected your tired eyes, guarded you from further headaches.

As you plumped onto the grass next to him, your fingers grazed it for a moment — and it felt good against your skin. A pleasant combination, the wind and the scent of grass; nearly freed your chest of the stuffy pain.

You watched his soft fingers fish out the sandwich, and then some salted peanuts for himself. Urged you to eat before spilling a handful of the nuts into his palm. God, you felt horribly guilty, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to convince him to share the meal.

He… didn’t even seem to mind a bit.

Wiping his hand on his pants, he finally introduced, “I’m Min Yoongi. Psychology student and TA. Judging from your spot every single Wednesday afternoon, you take psychology classes, too?”

“I do… yeah.”

You took a bite enough for mouses, but then proceeded with a larger, human-appropriate one. Your stomach felt odd; Min Yoongi’s small talk helped you eat, but the nervous feeling in your chest that never really went away weighed heavily on your tummy.

You added, “Thinking of dropping it, though…”

“Why?”

“Because I might be failing anyway. Haven’t done much, and I still have a presentation on my paper left but have prepared nothing for it yet, either.”

“Have you asked the professor about a potential extension?”

Of course you’d thought about it. You always did. Which is why you despised having to answer, “No…”

No. Of course not. To most professors, mental health didn’t matter as an excuse.

You understood, though. They graded every paper they received, surrendering their free time, their summer and their winter breaks. To grant you special treatment was something you regarded as unnecessary; you didn’t think you were worth it.

“Do you feel like you could do better next term?” Yoongi asked.

“I don’t know.”

Your sandwich was done and gone. You were still hungry; you felt the appetite all of a sudden. You knew it often came and went in waves, but somehow, the sandwich left you more pining than anything these days.

Yoongi saw as you licked your fingers clean of the mayonnaise; offered you some peanuts that you politely declined, greedy for something proper. Maybe you’d eat an actual dinner tonight.

After a while, Yoongi spoke, “Okay, I know I’m a stranger to you and everything, but if you want, I could try to help you.”

Shit, but… that would’ve meant putting in the effort. To get up, to meet him, to focus and to study. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do all that. You didn’t know how to—

But his eyes were so sincere; a pure dark brown, sparkling in hope, for whatever noble reason. And you thought… you thought…

If there was any chance to pass this class and get over with it, wouldn’t you feel a gigantic wave of relief wash over you? After so damn long? Wouldn’t it be worth it? Maybe a spark of hope ignited in your chest after all… maybe you could turn things around.

“Yeah…” you finally obliged. “Yeah, that’s really nice.”

“Great. Are you free this Friday afternoon?”

After that, it became part of your routine to meet up with Yoongi every Thursday or Friday, depending on his own schedule. A couple weeks passed like a breeze; or at least, compared to the days you were used to.

Some time later, those meetings increased, and you found a profound liking in them. You still often struggled with leaving your apartment at all, sometimes deeming getting out of bed or brushing your teeth an impossible task.

But whenever Yoongi called, offering a nearby café — always a nearby café — you’d place all your energy into moving, throwing on clothes, leaving. You felt unworried with him; at least for a couple hours.

He wasn’t just smart to an admirable degree; he was humorous, too. Motivating. Praised you for your ideas and your sharp mind. You’d forgotten you still had it in you — you thought time had altered your brain chemistry, killed too many of its cells to still let your mind operate.

Today, he didn’t suggest a café but a place you hadn't been to before. Yoongi had never invited you anywhere that wasn’t a public space, careful with your feelings without ever mentioning the obvious issues you had.

He only really crawled out of his shell and gave you the address to this new spot once you’d invited him over, too — he couldn’t make it, helping out the professor he assisted. But you reckon it was telling enough for him to understand how comfortable you’d grown with him.

So you went where he told you to go, and once you arrived, you recognised it as an office. A small one, but elegantly decorated, furniture sparse. And it wasn’t just any office. A therapist’s office.

“This is my mom’s,” Yoongi explained as you inspected the books on the shelf and the overall soothing and fitting atmosphere, “she’s out of town, so I thought we could study here today.

“Oh…”

He had to have heard your hesitancy, your uncertainty. This is the place they usually suggest in guidance books and in conversation to people like you. You didn’t know how to feel; the emotions washing over you were an odd sensation. Not good, not bad.

But scary, somehow.

Yoongi put a soft hand on your shoulder, making you turn, and asked, “Is that okay for you?”

“Yeah… it’s just… I’ve only really thought and read about therapy, but never quite seen an actual room like this.” You shook your head, clicking your tongue. “It’s crazy. How have I never been in one despite studying psychology for so long?”

“Hmm, many students haven’t been.”

“Yeah.”

You stripped your bag off of you, taking a seat on the cosy patient’s couch. Pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table between you and where he seated himself on the therapist’s chair. 

Swallowing a strange lump, you cleared your throat, starting the study session with, “Okay, so… I was thinking about what you said about the research question last time.”

“Right…”

At this point, you couldn’t really fathom why, but he seemed reserved today, a little distracted. Still providing as much information and intellect as he could; but his thoughts were slower and his eyes gentler.

You think you studied barely forty-five minutes when Yoongi called for a break — unusual, because it was mostly you to announce a pause in thoughts, when your brain would demand a couple minutes of peace.

He sighed, hands touching his thighs and then got up to bring you something to drink. Came back with two cups of tea. You thought he’d be returning with a glass of water, but upon seeing the beverage, your eyes widened; you told him, “This is super nice of you, thanks.”

“Of course.” Pause. You slurped; then he did. A second later, he inquired, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm.”

You waited. Nothing came. You took another sip of the fruity winter tea in the middle of summer, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat under your nose that the heat caused. Then you looked up, big eyes staring into his just in time to see his mouth open.

“You always seem so surprised when I’m nice to you.”

Ah…

He’d said he’d had a question, but the indication of an inquiry, the one lifting in tone at the end never came. His statement was his question. And you thought it wasn’t the first time you heard it; you just never noticed you were doing it again.

Yoongi left the conclusion there, and the question mark hung somewhere between the two of you. Unspoken, containing a silent, ”Why?”

So you answered, “I just… uhm. People don’t just do something like this for me without me asking. It’s new to me how attentive you are.”

Sad. Just sad. You hated having to actually echo your innermost thoughts; you knew this wasn’t normal.

He knew, too, because he said, “This… is not how things should be.”

“But this is how they ended up being. I mean it’s just tea. But I don’t think anybody else sees me sitting there and goes like, Okay, I’ll do this lil something for her, you know?”

“Which is insane. You deserve it all so much. More than anyone I know.”

If you’d still been drinking, you would’ve choked. Those words were rare, not often uttered to you; how were you supposed to respond to them? You’d long forgotten how to react to things at all — it didn’t come too naturally to you anymore.

So all you did was laugh a little, as if replying to a joke. Genuinely, you wondered, “How can you say something like that?”

“Why not?”

“I mean, you probably know so many people.”

Yoongi blinked at you, as if waiting for your argument to proceed; but when it didn’t, he lifted a shoulder, steadfast with his opinion as he answered, “So? What do you think? That you feeling that way about yourself makes everyone else feel that way about you, too?”

You shrugged your shoulders just an inch, imitating his motions. Your gaze fell, as though catching yourself spewing pure gibberish. He continued, “You have a pure heart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you being mean. And you’re strong, careful, and endure a shit ton.”

You looked up at him instantly. Let the last words reverberate in your mind, pushing them to the forefront between all your other messy thoughts. “Of course you knew,” you said.

“Of course. You’re so obviously hurt and I hate that you are.”

Well, you hated it, too. But… 

Your desperation came out in a whisper, “I don’t know what to do about it…”

You put the cup back onto the saucer; your fingers were warm when you pushed them into your hair, pressing your palms against your forehead, holding onto your mane. Elbows on your thighs. The world spun again until you felt his hand on your arm once more.

“Hey.” He sounded softer again. “Do you want to take a longer break? We could stop for today and talk?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to. But it feels to me like you’ve never done that before… people don’t want to listen.” His words hit you like bricks. Like heavy cement bricks. The pain was excruciating. “Is that it?”

You were still staring at your lap when he posed the question; your head whirred, so you didn’t know where to start. Which is why you held onto the first complaint — you knew they were valid worries, but you always called them complaints, like you were a burden — and said,

“I just… I listen to everyone. I let people vent, I let them feel hurt, and I try to be there and lend a shoulder and just,” the words cascaded out of you like a wild waterfall; your throat clogged up again, “to be a good person and a good friend.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the pressure back in your chest. “But why do I not get any of it back? Why is it that everyone goes silent when I’m hurting? Do I deserve this somehow?”

You felt tears pricking and burning in your waterline, and you blinked them away. Took another quick sip just to help your dry throat. Then, “I hate that I sound selfish? Like I only do things for people to get love back, but… that’s not it. I just want to feel worthy of something, too.”

“You don’t sound selfish. It’s never wrong or inhumane to demand affection and care, and if it is, then… every person’s selfish. Whatever.”

Up until that point, you hadn’t known that someone could be this tender and direct at once. Yoongi lived in a reality that wasn’t sugarcoated, but he understood empathy and heartbreak, knew to dip his words in an ointment alleviating enough.

You wondered what he’d endured to become this type of person; sympathy and a mind this sage often stem from grief once encountered, and you so hoped he was an exception to this belief of yours.

You looked at him with delicate fondness, mixed with some lasting trouble. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know what came over you when you leaned into his palm, kept his gaze, and stayed in place when he moved in.

Kissed you.

And you didn’t know why, but the moment opened your heart as if it’d been locked before; he was the key, undoing the lock so easily. That was when the first tear rolled down your cheek, meeting his skin, and you started trembling as he moved his mouth against yours.

You couldn’t grasp why he was doing it; even if parts of you knew. Did he not care that you were broken? That you were still breaking? That the ache always consumed you, that you felt whatever your brain inflicted on you throughout your entire body?

Maybe not. He always said you were funny, sweet, never humorous at anybody’s expense.

It was different from the things you’d heard before.

Nobody will love you like this.

Stop acting like you’re traumatised.

I didn’t love you — I kept you because you were attractive. Because you let me.

You had always asked yourself: why had your feelings always been shoved aside when you voiced your opinion? Whenever it differed from the one in your family or your friend’s circle?

Why were you told to never open up about your childhood memories? When you were caged in; when somebody three times your age indulged in impudence when they shouldn’t have, long ago when you were a child; when you fell in love at a later age and were forced to let go?

Why were you told you were tainted, that you couldn’t get any affection like this, to keep your pain to yourself and forget about your past? And why was this sequence of nightmares plaguing you right now, like you were dying, just when he was kissing you…

Because you were scared. So scared.

If you told Yoongi any of this, would he bolt? Would you hurt yet another person? Would he see you as a shattered porcelain doll, distance himself from you? Because honestly, why would he stay at all; with someone who hasn’t healed, who’d pulled him underwater, too?

Yet, you didn’t say any of this. You sighed; leaned into him. Took residency in his heart, cried into him.

He kissed you for another second, and then backed away. Wiped your tears. You broke and broke until your voice broke, too, giving way to quiet sobs.

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

And somehow, the realisation hurt anew, deep in your core and beyond.

Your tears had mostly dried when he resumed his position, sitting in front of you. His fingers were entangled and he waited.

Yoongi knew you’d cry again, though. The patient’s couch had some magic to it, his mother always said. They’d always cry, but they’d heal at the same time. Recognise hidden parts of themselves.

He was uncomplaining and composed, and kept looking at you until you said, “It just feels… like I’ll never be enough. I can do as much as possible, but none of it is ever seen because I’m taken for granted.”

“Who takes you for granted?”

“Everyone. I’ve spent many nights awake for people, and they abandoned me. In a crowd, others will always be praised for one thing and I’ll be ignored for the same. It’s made me bitter.”

He nodded in true therapist fashion, but his expression wasn’t as neutral as one; he looked pain-struck for you. Said, “You’ve been hurt… I see that…”

“I’m… hurting,” you corrected, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Yoongi attempted a different approach; you were in a hopeless spiral, and the strategy he needed to try wasn’t just to dig out your trauma, but to make you familiar with the good parts of your life, too.

So he asked, sincerely hoping you had an answer to his question, “Who could you trust as you grew up?”

“I don’t know…” Yoongi’s chest deflated, motivation dropping — that is, until you muttered, “My brother.”

“Parents?”

“Part of the problem.”

Okay; your answers came more rapidly now. He took it as a good sign; as readiness to talk.

“Where’s your brother?” he wondered.

“In this town,” you answered, and Yoongi sighed in relief. “But I can’t bother him with all of my shit.”

Your symptoms were as typical as they could be; you regarded your self-worth as buried deep under the ground, never wanting to disturb those who still deemed you close and loved. You’d established this distance between you and the others; he didn’t blame you.

The symptoms were typical.

“Why do you think so?” Yoongi prodded, whispering your name when you didn’t answer.

“I’ve bothered them all enough…”

“How so?”

Maybe he was doing too much. But it seemed you were on board with it; you weren’t complaining, not sighing, not withdrawing. You were listening and talking. Nobody let you talk, and now that you were, you looked like you needed to let it out.

You spat, “Because they never seemed to want to hear anything.”

God…

It hurt to see you like this. Damp eyes, a heavily rising chest, as if you were close to panicking again, but desperately holding back. He knew it; he saw it in the way you drew your breaths and in the things you said.

He knew you’d braved multiple nights and many, many sleepless hours before, spending these dark moments clutching your chest, trying to get rid of the unbearably tight feeling in your chest.

He knew that torturous pressure. He’d been there before. The persistent feeling of fear and unease — like somebody had dropped a weight onto his ribcage and tied up his stomach. The shallow breathing and thumping heart would strip him off focus.

Thoughts circling and circling, around each other; absolute bullshit most of the time.

He couldn’t imagine how overwhelmed you felt, but then again, he could. Was the world louder to you, too? The way it used to be for him. Did you hear that constant screaming in your head?

Vulnerable, senses heightened, sensitive to the slightest change.

He hated the thought of a wall between you and your peace. Hated hearing the words you narrated; of your home, of your childhood, of the people you met. The disrespect you suffered and the dirt you were treated as.

You deserved none of it.

Maybe he felt that way because nobody ever deserved it; or maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you. Not because he needed to save you, or because he felt like falling for someone who he’d have to fix could be a welcoming challenge.

He knew people who treated depression like this; saviour complex in full effect, they needed to be the hero or heroine to stitch a broken heart.

No — he fell for you because you were you. Despite everything and every pain you endured, you were still you; and most of the you that you were before you got hurt this badly was still there, under the surface.

He saw those joyful parts of you reemerge sometimes, breaking through the waves. Sometimes, right before your head would fall again; your body weightless; drowning — he saw those parts on those days for a split moment.

But not right now.

In fact, the true parts of you that knew to feel happiness were absent now, and he knew — in that sense, he was prepared for you to utter what you said next. Was ready to hear it, no matter how little he actually wanted to hear it.

“And sometimes, when it got too much…” You gulped. Yoongi knew what you’d say; he knew. But— “I didn’t feel like being here anymore. It seems that was the only and last time I opened my family’s eyes.”

But when you still said it, it stabbed his heart like a dagger.

“Only, after that… it soon became irrelevant again,” you continued, “they told me I should be thankful for being alive and regret the mistake I made… what I tried.”

And you spoke on. Spoke on and on. He leaned back, allowing himself a better position to breathe. His heart felt like a sewing pin cushion, riddled with tiny holes. His eyebrows furrowed in agony, but he saw worse pain in your eyes.

Tears slowly reappeared.

“And when I was judged for this, too… I realised I didn’t regret ever trying to leave the world. I regretted that I’d failed to do so.”

Maybe he felt that way because nobody deserved it; maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you.

But your words split him in a million tiny shards, like glass, until his pieces became tiny enough to resemble dust.

”Am a burden… Am fucking burdening you…”

Yoongi’s voice defeats the others in your head just barely; as if you’re separated by a glass wall and hearing him from afar, only clearing when you hammer through it and break the surface. He’s quiet compared to your cries, a hand firmly on your back.

His grip around you wants to glue you together so desperately; he’s not letting go, even though you get restless soon, quivering and ruining his shirt.

“Hey, baby…” you hear him say, but you interrupt, obstinately shaking your head.

“No… I’m— I never should’ve let you this close and—”

“No.” It’s his turn to interject. And he does it with determination; tone suddenly so low, cold, so you silence. “Stop.”

You do, only now noticing that he’s imprisoning your wrists in his grasp. Not painfully, but still solidly enough for you to understand what he means. You confirm it for yourself when you look up.

You already know your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks thoroughly wet; but you still recognise the heavy breaths he draws. See something entirely different in his eyes than yours.

Pain.

You hurt him. And this time, you could once again lament your destructive behaviour, argue how you keep inflicting these shit ass feelings on him. But…

The ache in his expressions says something else entirely. Fills you with hope, fills you with guilt.

Shows you that he despises the thought of you possibly regretting this relationship. His gaze proves that he doesn’t. That if he could go back in time and meet you again, talk to you again, fall in love with you again — he would.

You know it because he’s said it before. You know.

But your brain is half melting, hurting, spitting all negative assumptions at you like nobody’s business.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you stammer, pierced by the sorrow in his eyes.

“What?”

“I… shouldn’t have said that,” you start, gulping. Your crying ebbs down for a second as you register the growing agony in his heart, and you explain, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I can’t stop thinking that…”

Break in conversation.

Then him again, “…That?”

“That you’d be better off without me. That you’re here so I stay alive and that you’d be less burdened with someone else…”

Another pause. 

He stares at you, as if pondering his answer. Bites into his lower lip softly and releases it right away. Blinks, looks to your wrists, lets go of them and then whispers, “Do you want to know? What I’m thinking, do you want to know that, too?”

“…What are you thinking?”

“That it’s true that I’m burdened.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

The pain is searing, a burning arrow shooting through your heart. It’s what you expected and what you feared and what still hurts so much upon hearing and—

Are you crying again? Are you tearing up? You don’t know.

You’re not sure, but it does seem like you’re breaking once more when he shushes you carefully, touching your cheek. He calms you, and then speaks again—

“Of course I’m burdened, too. Yeah, of course. I’d be lying if I said seeing you like this doesn’t make me feel helpless… but do you know what it means that I’m still here?”

Your voice trembles when you speak, “Because you’re scared of leaving me in this condition.”

“No. I learned early enough to prioritise myself when I need to. No, I’m not leaving because I don’t want to — simple. Because I’ll share your, mine and the world’s damn pain along with my heart. ‘Kay?”

Retrospectively, his words sound logical. He said it’s simple, and in some way, it is. If you didn’t have the brain that you have, it would be. If you weren’t so neck-deep in the quicksand pulling you into doubts, you’d be less surprised at the finality in his tone.

“Baby—” you start, but he squeezes your hand, eyes glistening.

“We have enough enemies in this world. Don’t regard me as one, too. Okay? Please…”

“No, you’re not,” you defend, moving your head and the palm on your cheek along with it, “you’re anything but that.”

He nods, sniffling; you know he’s holding back the same salty, pouring liquid as you. He’s always done that, providing a sense of strength and safety to make you feel just that.

“We’ll be okay one day, love. The world hurts us a shit ton, and life is difficult, but…” His voice cracks here, and he waits to regain control, sighing. “We only get one of it and… it’d be so unfair if we were destined to stay like this, right?”

You don’t believe in divine beliefs that seemingly predetermine how your life plays out. Fate or destiny or whatever synonyms to notions that Jung or Freud believed in. You’ve heard of this stuff plenty in your studies, but it never affected your curiosity much.

You know Yoongi isn’t necessarily a representative of it either; not one to dive too deep into things that suggest the potential absence of a free will.

But the thought provides hope when nothing else does. You know. The fact that you can’t leave this world without fixing things; that you’re here to contribute to much larger and more important things.

You cannot have been born to spend your days here without the joy you deserve.

You’ve felt much of it thanks to Yoongi, but you’ve had too many setbacks to call this a proper life. You don’t want to end it like this. You don’t want to grow old like this.

And you want to gift him the life he deserves, too.

Fuck…

You need to get better. You need to get better. You need to get better.

You need to help yourself. Even if it takes time; even if the non-linear process of healing irks you, stealing hope and leaving anguish in turn. And it’s as if Yoongi reads your mind when he says—

“It’s okay, you know? To feel that way. It takes time. It doesn’t matter how much, but it’s okay to fall back and have ups and downs, as long as you don’t give up. Yes?”

“I can’t, I know… I— I won’t give up. I just… need you to be here.” Your voice is unsteady, and your heart is, too; fickle as can be. But you’d rather hang onto the aspiration right now… nothing else. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I’ll fix this for us, I will.”

“For yourself first. I’ll be here, no matter what.”

“…I love you.” Your breathing is staggered, leftover pain still keeping the anxiety in your chest. It’ll take a while. But there’s power in your admissions when you repeat, “I love you so much.”

You lean in carefully, and he mimes the movement, bending into your kiss. It’s a peck, soft and gentle and encouraging, and you murmur through your sniffles, “So, so much.”

And then you climb up, using all your strength. Half your body comes to a rest on his; the immediate proximity and warm touch evoke motivation and longing in your heart. For not only him, but every second of a possible serene future, too.

This very hope is often born and reborn at the end of your lowest lows. It’s what pulls you up again, keeps you going each time before the next valley can swallow you. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes not.

But you so desperately want this. Want it to work now.

You want to be okay. Want to travel and soak in the sun. Want to dance in the rain and scream from the peak of a mountain; want to snorkel in clear, blue seas.

The life you picture for yourself, the one you follow in those healing vlogs on social media — it’s what you yearn for. It’s what you want to feel. With him on your side.

Sometime in the future, you see yourself beaming in genuine happiness, see yourself smiling. And you want to work towards it. You’ve always wanted to.

Ever since Yoongi first showed you what love, contentment and merriment felt like, you’ve craved this. Ever since that night he told you he loved you, despite everything.

Despite, despite, despite.

He was there to catch your fall when you couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore. When your knees weakened and the ground turned into clouds, and you plunged through them and towards the cemented earth that’d shatter you.

He aided you in staying whole. Let you lean against his shoulder, nodding off into a slumber there, allowing you to dream because until then, you didn’t dare to.

You thought dreaming was pointless; just a fabrication of the unconscious mind to distract you from the horrors of the world. To keep you occupied, to torture you even when asleep. As time passed, you started making these horrors your life, and the line between reality and fantasy thinned.

Until…

Until he turned those nightmares into daydreams. Blossoming, vibrant colours appeared where you’d perceived greys before. Somehow, you fell apart a lot less when Yoongi spent his time with you, taught you to love again.

You became less terrified by dreams then, because the content changed. And whenever you weren’t dreaming, away from sleep, you experienced the utopia you’d always sought.

The day Yoongi first told you he loved you, you’d long defeated the semester you’d so worried about; started and survived the one after; and were now already tackling your very last one.

Even after all these months, you never let him forget how grateful you were for passing the last summer semester eventually, and in return, he never let you forget that he’d stay even after.

You didn’t study all the time anymore either; now, your afternoons and nights were filled with gentle words, promising embraces, lips against lips. It took some time to truly open up. To stop feeling like you were making a mistake.

“Doing yourself to him,” you called it, as if you were about to hurl him into his very own mistake.

Even then, you wanted to get better for him; you knew it hadn’t and wouldn’t happen overnight. All of it was much easier said than done; healing sounds so doable for those who attempt to support those who need it, yet they cannot grasp the meaning of a broken heart and scared mind.

But there was something so wonderful about the simplicity between Yoongi and you. So simple that it called forth feelings so complex. 

They were tough to navigate, but never tough to admit.

That March night, the sentiments roamed your body the clearest, even though the skies were anything but that. The thunder sounded like the universe had cracked; the white and silver of the striking lightning illuminated your room.

It was the night you felt hope in all its glory, for the very first time in years.

“You keep hiding from me,” Yoongi said, legs crossed like yours, sitting vis-a-vis.

He was close enough for your knees to collide, and when they did for the umpteenth time, he put a careful hand on your fingers resting on your thigh. You didn’t protest, so he didn’t withdraw.

“I’m not hiding from you. I just…” you stalled, “I just want you to be sure.”

“About you?”

If it had been this easy, you wouldn’t have asked. Because you knew the answer to this. Yoongi didn’t need to explain it to you; he was already certain about you to an indisputable degree.

You shook your head. Elaborated, “About everything. I don’t just come with the few good times we had the last couple of weeks. I come with… everything I’ve ever experienced and that shaped me into this.” You gestured over yourself. “You’d notice soon.”

“I already do.”

His answers and arguments came promptly, as if he knew the script to this talk and had already thought out every response he’d be giving. This was so effortless to him; thinking about it today, you wouldn’t even have needed to say a word.

But it was important to you. You couldn’t permit him to grow this attached without making sure.

“You just take it, do you? All that I am,” you concluded delicately; wanting to inform him, but so terrified of scaring him away. “But if you fall for me, then you’re committing. And I want you to think about it because I don’t— I don’t want to ruin your life.”

When he spoke again, he seemed to finally deviate from the script he knew; because confused, he asked, “If?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, if I fall for you?”

Oh… oh.

You understood. It didn’t take the tiniest of nanoseconds for you to fathom what he meant. And you could’ve sobbed right there and then, but the storm distracted you a little; the thunder was growling, threatening to explode again.

Somehow, the chaos outside kept you at bay. But only for so long.

“…Yoongi.”

His fingers moved from yours to your entire palm, taking it in his with a whisper of your name. Then, he clarified, “The possibility of something happening is redundant if it’s already happened, you know? And I’m…”

You held your breath, but at the same time, you were nearly panting. Maybe one first, then the other? You can’t remember anymore. You felt dizzy. Teary-eyed and joyful at once when you saw him at a loss of words.

“You’re?” you encouraged.

“I’m just so… feet deep underwater and in love with you that you couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”

“I—”

“I love you. You know I do.”

Fuck… fuck, you knew.

Of course you knew.

Your heart was vile at times, cooperating with this demon of a brain and feeding you wrong information. But this, you knew. You fought through the congested mess of thoughts and admitted this to yourself every day.

Isn’t this why you were having this conversation in the first place?

But to hear him say it…

I love you.

You know I do.

“Even if you try to deny it,” he continued, “you know I love you and that I’ll keep doing it.”

This is when your waterline gave up; lined with the liquid you’d always held back. But why? There was no reason to. You felt at peace; Yoongi knew your heart. There was no use in keeping you closed off anymore.

So you cried. Let the first tear roll that he caught with his hand, holding your face so firmly that you thought it was the only thing keeping your head upright. Optimistic.

“There’s… there’s a chance that I start doubting you,” you contended for whatever stupid reason, sniffling, “that I doubt myself and then regret pulling you down with me and— there’s a chance I forget that you’ll keep loving me, no matter what, you know—”

“I’ll keep reminding you.”

“I’m a handful.”

“My hands are big enough, baby.”

The endearment didn’t slip past you, but instead made your beating organ swell. You don’t think you’d ever heard your pulse pounding in your eardrums this loudly. And he kept inching closer; his forehead nearly touched yours until it did.

“Can you love me even if I fall, Yoongi?”

“I’ll pick you up. You know that.”

“…What if you feel like you’re not good enough?”

Stop asking questions. Stop stop stop.

But he kept answering.

“Remember what you told me a couple days ago?” Yoongi asked, his voice quiet, drowning in the storm. “That it’d been long since you’d felt happy like this.”

“I do right now… I just…”

“Yeah, and I— I think. If I’m able to stay by your side and make you smile anyhow? Then I think this… we… are good enough.”

That’s it. Your throat was dry, your mind out of questions. You could renounce doubts if he didn’t have any either. He seemed convinced enough; so you admitted your own convictions to him, too.

“I’m… I love you, too. I love you, I fucking do.”

Your last word was cut, merely a breath. Swallowed when you leaned in and kissed him, pulling him back with you onto the bed. Yoongi landed on top of you, draping the two of you under the thin, floral blanket.

The early spring rain tapped your window softly before the gentle noise turned into more aggressive knocking and hammering. This very storm they’d announced was the reason Yoongi had stayed tonight.

That’s what he’d told you at least; in truth, it was an excuse.

Before today, you rarely spent your nights together.

Whenever you did, he allowed you your space in order to not overwhelm you. He knew you were cautious, slow, took your time to trust. He’d sleep on the couch or crawl back to you when you approached him in the dead of the night.

Touching his elbow gently, shaking him awake, telling him so sweetly that it drove him insane, “I don’t want to be alone.”

So he’d cuddle in when you sought out his arms, dozing so peacefully. It delighted him because whenever he didn’t slumber next to you, he’d hear you from the other room. Woefully moaning in your sleep, as if crying, turning.

He never saw or heard any of that when you leaned into his embrace, held onto his shirt. Never did anything more than sleep; he was content with that.

But tonight was different, less chaste than that — and he was content with that, too. 

You said you’d wanted to talk. And you had. You’d trembled through the conversation, heart combusting in your chest like it wasn’t part of you anymore, that treacherous thing with its own, stupid will.

But it thumped differently now when he kissed you like this. You felt the change so clearly when he held you, pushing you into the mattress; stripping you naked bit by bit; asking over and over again if you were okay, if he should stop.

You lived differently, too, when he pecked your bare skin, up and down, from head to toe, to and fro. His tongue explored your waist and your thighs and the wetness between your quivering legs.

And you loved differently when he immersed himself in you. Sighing and moaning against you as his tongue lapped you up. You felt the chills everywhere. Felt your shoulders rise, your hand in his long hair, the oxygen running out.

You’d nearly forgotten how such a moment felt — then again, you’d never experienced it like this before. You could barely breathe, and for the first time, you loved it. For the first time, it wasn’t your usual reason.

But the picture of the man over you pumping himself, covering his cock in the condom you’d bought weeks ago, just in case. Back when he started hanging around at your place. He was surprised about your preparation; was delighted about it, too.

And God… God, when he kissed you, sheathing himself in you, every inch connected with every piece of you. Souls and hearts and bodies merging. Moving in and out slowly, then a little quicker, cradling your face and kissing your neck.

Between all that, he kept asking if you were doing okay, and you said you’d never felt better. And the best part was that you fucking meant it and that’s when you knew—

That Yoongi warmed your coldest, most frigid spots. Helped you find a sense of heat that you’d long forgotten, that not even summer could ever bring back. The spring was right inside you, in the middle of your chest despite the rain.

But at the same time, somewhere next to it, he was there, too, becoming the storm that raged outside.

All at once, you remembered again. Even if you might forget in your worst times; even if he’d really need to remind you again.

You remembered that you could be loved, and that you were deserving of love.

You remembered that love towards somebody is often subjective and it’s not entirely up to you who feels it for you, and that only because somebody else was unable to give it to you the right way… it doesn’t mean everyone would act the same.

Yoongi was the spring and the storm; the rainbow you saw the next morning as the sky cleared.

Your mother used to struggle with migraines. Back then, you’d see her tied to the bed for half a day, struggling to get up, sleeping for a couple hours after swallowing her sumatriptan.

The evening or the morning after, you’d ask her how she was doing, and she’d say the headache was gone, but that some of the pressure still lingered. She’d feel it in the heaviness of her head, like it was falling against her clavicles.

Back then, you were too young to understand; you still don’t suffer migraines, knock on wood. But you somehow get what she meant — you guess the same applies to any other part of your body.

Like the soul.

They say a body becomes lighter after death since the soul leaves; and the morning after bawling in Yoongi’s arms, you feel the opposite. Like your grief makes you weigh more than during your good days.

Like you’re heavier than a month ago, without gaining a single kilogram.

But at least that means you’re alive. A soul intact.

And, just like your mother’s medicine, the night alleviated at least some of your pain. Maybe it was the conversation with Yoongi. Maybe the reassurance that he didn’t perceive you as the task you thought you might be.

Many years ago, you refused to seek help in others; be it loved ones, a partner or a therapist. Yoongi taught you to own who you were and to admit the problems you faced; that they were as valid as anything else.

Living with him and loving him this profoundly showed you that it’s okay to confide in someone. That someone will care. But it also taught you that ultimately, nobody is responsible for your well-being as much as you are.

That to heal, you need to accept yourself. That to accept yourself, you need to acknowledge the issues you face.

And for that, you need to be ready to combat your demons, understand that they can be fought.

You’ve always known that. In that sense, it isn’t true that you’re fully dependent on Yoongi. You know deep down that you’ll be the one pulling you out of this.

But…

It’s never bad for someone to initiate that thought process, is it? Even when it’s you emerging from the grave you dug for yourself; it’s okay to grab the hand as the earth breaks, pulling you out of the dirt and darkness.

Yoongi is the rope helping you out; but you’re the one to walk on once the endless well ends and you spot the daylight. You can rely on him. You can rely on yourself.

You’ll be okay… you’ll be okay.

“Ready?” Yoongi asks as you slip into your shoes. You look up, and nod, your smile soft. “Just a few more days, right?”

Right. 

You’ll live day by day. Survive the hours, strive towards a better future. Count your blessings, find things to look forward to. It’s alright to fall sometimes, and whenever you do, you’ll remember you’re not alone.

That you’ll get up eventually. You hold onto this.

And onto those few last days until vacation calls. You booked it so long ago; it can be that one thing to grasp, to look forward to, right?

And… you laugh. Because you remember Yoongi telling you to get your nails done, that he’d even go with you. “But do not forget, because blue suits Greece and I’d love to see the colour on you.”

You act like you don’t know what his plea means. You act like you don’t know how much he loves you. How this very approaching plan of his proves that he couldn’t even let go of you if you gave him another reason to.

Isn’t this enough to understand that he never feels guilty of loving you?

Why are you so afraid…

Because.

Yoongi never viewed your pain as something you had control over or something you caused; whoever hurt you is at fault, not you. And Yoongi knows that; knows that you matter, with your past and present and future, however cruel they might be.

But despite the fact that your past made you who you are, and that your future will determine how you’ll further turn out to be, Yoongi always preaches to focus on the controllable.

We won’t ever be able to manage the future entirely; maybe you won’t even ever be faced with the fears you harbour, you know? The past is the past, the present is the present and the future is the future. They will torment us if we put too much meaning in them.

I know it’s hard. But it’ll be alright. One day, it will be — you’re okay.

It has to be…

You’ll be okay. You’re okay.

The weather might change at warp speed — but soon, it’ll be sunny again.

i know i said it's okay if you skip this one, but if you're reading this, you might not have, and i'm thankful for that <3 i needed these feelings out of my system, so it felt very cathartic to me. maybe it helped you a little, too? i hope so, at least – things will be okay 🤍

what do you think? since you're here, i'd love to know how you feel about this piece 💕

[aikastales]

i’m drunk, i love you (jk)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: with only a day before graduation, you make a promise that you will not only graduate from university, but also from your feelings for your best friend of seven years, jeon jungkook.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: film student!jungkook x med tech student!fem!oc (named sola)

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌: heavy angst, unrequited love, jungkook as an isko agenda, set in the ph 🇵🇭

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: this story is fiction. it does not represent the members of bangtan or any of the idols here in real life. all resemblance to real life characters, institutions, associations, places, events, among others are either purely coincidence or depicted in a fictitious manner only. there’s really no warnings for this story other than it’s a self-indulgent fic to get me back to writing. the smut isn’t that severe. just kissing, nipple sucking, and grinding. this is based on the film, i’m drunk i love you, which i highly recommend you watch. i didn’t alter much of the plot & scenes bc i think they’re already great as it is, but i did tweak a bit here and there. i hope you enjoy! let me know what you think by reblogging/commenting. ♡

𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 5,784

You were never quite the believer in love at first sight, but what you felt that night was the closest thing to that feeling. 

He was one of the freshmen performers during your orientation, singing Adam Levine’s Lost Stars. Like the entire audience, you were captivated by his heavenly vocals and charisma as he performed on stage with an acoustic guitar one of the seniors lent him. Not only that, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t bad looking either—quite the opposite, really. 

However, after the orientation, you didn’t get to see much of the dark-haired handsome boy. You were studying at UP, the biggest state university in the country, and so your paths were bound not to cross. Until, your older cousin, who was a senior at that time, invited you to eat dinner with him and a couple of his buddies after seeing you strolling around campus alone. When you arrived at the eatery, you not only saw your cousin Yoongi’s friends—Yijeong and Woosung—you also spotted the boy who hadn’t left your mind since you saw him over four months ago at that time. 

You sat across from him and you tried your best not to freak out as Yoongi introduced the both of you. Apparently, he had already known Jungkook because he was the younger stepbrother of his other friend, Namjoon. During the course of your dinner, you and Jungkook didn’t really talk much. But you would muster up the courage to ask him some basic questions such as his program, why he went to UP, if he joined any orgs yet, etcetera. Jungkook was polite enough to answer your inquiries. 

He was a Film major. He went to UP because everyone in his family went to UP so it was the most obvious choice for him and he was a member of the Film society. In return, Jungkook asked the same set of questions. You were a pre-med student, Medical Technology, to be exact, and you went to UP because it was your dream school. You were also a member of the College of Arts and Sciences’ student council. 

After your meal was finished, Yoongi entrusted your care to Jungkook as they were going to meet up with some of their friends and you were both living at campus dormitories anyway. So, you hopped into his old army green Toyota Rav4 and needless to say, the ride back to UP was awkward. So, to get rid of the awkward silence, you asked if you could play some music. He said sure and handed you the aux cord already connected to his stereo. Once you had the other end connected to your phone, you played one of your favorite songs—Waltz of Four Left Feet by Shirebound and Busking. 

To your surprise, Jungkook also knew the song and just like that, the awkward silence was gone and you became inseparable ever since. 

Music became the bridge that connected you and Jungkook. Whenever you would hangout, it was always your topic—your favorite artists, songs, original scores in films, best albums, underrated artists, overrated artists, the current state of music, everything. He also became your gig buddy—seeking out mainstream and indie artists you both liked and going to their live performances downtown bars, jam packed arenas and stadiums. 

But your favorite would always be watching him perform. After his performance at the orientation, he naturally became one of the popular students at UP. He wasn’t popular like a celebrity or an influencer, but heads would turn whenever he walked around campus. Also, he still had the luxury of privacy on his side, but if you looked at the right places, you would find small accounts on social media dedicated to him. He didn’t care for the attention, though, and just went about his day as normally as possible. 

His performance did land him some gigs here and there. You found it cute whenever he’d turn to you to ask if he should accept the invitation or not, and you would always tell him to do whatever he wanted. Most of the time, he accepted, especially if it was at Route 96, a historic venue for aspiring musicians. 

It was here that he performed the first song he wrote by himself called Still With You. It was also during this performance that you began to see him in a different light—quite literally. He was performing with the bar lights off, only the lights on stage and the spotlight illuminated the entire establishment. When the spotlight on him turned purple, you felt a whole new admiration for your best friend. It wasn’t the “Oh god I’m so proud of my best friend” kind, rather it was the “Oh fuck I’m in love with my best friend” realization. 

But like every other story where someone falls in love with their best friend, you kept your feelings hidden, hoping someday it would go away. However, you soon realized, once you fell in love with Jeon Jungkook, there was no going back. It was a rabbit hole. 

The more you spent time with him, the more you fell in love with him and all of him—from the way he smiles to the sound of his laugh, how he would always annoy the shit out of you when you were supposed to be studying to how he would remember small things about you like your favorite snack at the vending machine, how you’d be the first to know his test results to how you’d be his first audience for the short film they needed to produce for that semester, how he would lend you his jacket when you ate bingsu because he knew you’d get cold easily to how he’d send you random memes he found funny out of the blue. 

It was so easy to fall in love with Jeon Jungkook. Thus, everyone else did too. For seven years, you watched on the sidelines as he dated several girls and loved them how you wished he’d love you. 

“In one day, you can finally lay your hands on Jungkook,” your best friend, Mingyu, teased as he took a sip from his beer. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh, head resting on your palm, elbow propped on the wooden table in front of you, a bottle of beer in the other hand. You were bordering on getting tipsy now as you had been drinking since you arrived at La Union with Mingyu and Jungkook in the afternoon. You didn’t even know why you agreed to your best friend’s idea of going to the province for a music festival when you had your graduation—the very graduation that was seven years in the making—on Sunday.   

“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu,” you told the honey-skinned man across from you with a chuckle. 

“What? Let this be your final test before finally graduating. Are you ready?” a lopsided grin appeared on his handsome face. 

Under the orange light, Kim Mingyu was easily one of the most handsome men you ever laid your eyes on. He was also tall, well-mannered, smart, capable, had a stable job while being a med student, and the textbook definition of a walking green flag. In another life, you could imagine yourself falling for him instead of Jungkook. But in the current universe you were in, he was one of your trusted friends who had known about your crush on Jungkook since first year. 

The waiter arrived to bring you your order of another bucket of Red Horse beer. Mingyu took a bottle from the silver bucket and opened it. “Happy horse for the happy whore,” he told you as he handed you the fresh bottle of beer. You gave him a middle finger. He laughed. “What? Am I not right?” 

“You’re the whore,” you replied. “I saw you with that cute chinito by the beach earlier. What happened to Mino?” 

He rolled his eyes at the mention of his ex—or you believed was his ex. You never really know with Mingyu and relationships. He was the complete opposite of you. While you were a hopeless romantic at heart, he didn’t believe in love—or so he says. 

“Seven years,” Mingyu mused, glancing towards the beach. “You didn’t stop falling in love with your best friend. Now, it looks like you don’t even plan to stop.” 

You sucked your teeth, tracing the water around the bottle due to the ice with your fingers. “Do I just throw it away?” You weren’t sure if you were asking Mingyu or yourself. “We make a good pair.” You laughed to yourself. 

“Except?” Mingyu pointed out the harsh reality. 

“Except,” you took in a shaky breath. “He doesn’t love me back. Maybe.” 

Mingyu sighed deeply, looking at his watch. “Time check: you still have your hopes up.” 

“It’s still early,” you argued. “I still have two days. Just give me time.” 

“Give me time?” Mingyu repeated, taking a sip from his beer. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sola? The universe has given you all the time. But you did nothing.” 

You groaned, throwing your head back as a realization hit you. “Fuck, Gyu, I just—I just realized. Is it right that we’re here? Was it the right decision to come here? My mom’s gonna be so mad once she finds out I’m in La Union.”  

“It’s all you. You’re a raging masochist,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway. Let’s just play a game. Let’s enumerate all the things you did with Jungkook. Those are seven years worth of memories, Sola. Game?” 

“Game.” 

“What year did you first meet Jungkook?” 

A smile immediately creeped up on your face. “2017.” 

Mingyu waved his hand at you. “Wow! You can do math! But I just thought of something—instead of just general memories. Let’s make them specific. Let’s list down all the stupid things you did for Jungkook for seven years.” 

“The fuck are you talking about?” you let out a scoff, drinking your beer. 

“What? Now you can’t remember?” he challenged. 

You clicked your tongue. “Fine, you stupid bitch. Ask away.” 

Mingyu grinned. “2018.” 

You hummed before saying, “Jungkook was heartbroken that year. I was back at home and he was at UP. But I rushed into the city to be there for him. I remember because I was supposed to attend this baptism with my parents but I snuck out and got an earful from my mother the next day. I was completely hungover too because Jungkook and I went bar hopping the entire night.” 

“Jesus Christ, Sola.” 

“Don’t judge me. It was my decision, okay?” 

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Okay. 2019.” 

You stared at Mingyu, laughing as you recalled the memory. “2019. Me and Jungkook walked from UP to Aurora Boulevard just to tell me how Song Areum became his girlfriend.” 

He shook his head. “2020.” 

“2020—he was sick. I had an exam that day, but I quickly answered it so I could buy him his favorite, Tapsilog from Tapsi ni Vivian, before it ran out ‘cos it runs out quickly, right?” Mingyu nodded. You licked your lower lip then let out a small laugh. “But when I got to his dorm room, his roommate already told me Areum brought him to the university hospital. And I failed my exam ‘cos I didn’t answer the back part.” 

“2021, go!” 

“I loved him for four years now and counting. Is that good enough?” 

“Okay. I’ll accept it. 2022?” 

“2022—I’ve been in love with him for five fucking years already, fucking shit!” you exclaimed, feeling the alcohol in you boosting your confidence. 

“Okay. We’re in the last year, girl. What about in 2023? What was the stupid thing you did for Jungkook last year?” 

You gulped. “I’m two years delayed.” 

Mingyu exhaled deeply. A moment of silence settled between the two of you. Then, she asked, “Sola, it all boils down to this: when will you end this?” 

You sat up straight, taking a deep breath. “You mean when will I stop with my foolishness?” Mingyu nodded. You purse your lips. “Maybe when I’m done with UP. When I’m done with UP, I’ll graduate from everything—including him. Especially him.” 

When you got back to your shared room with Jungkook and Mingyu, you were already tipsy. You almost fell face flat on the floor when you opened the door, feeling lightheaded, but luckily, your best friend was there to catch you. 

“You’re drunk, Sola,” Jungkook chuckled deeply. You could smell his expensive cologne—the one you bought for him for his birthday last year and it brought a huge grin on your face, knowing he wore it. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

“I’m fine, Guk. I’m not that drunk. But I do need to sit down,” you said followed by a set of giggles as you let Jungkook walk you to the bed you shared with Mingyu, and then you threw yourself on it, back against the mattress, arms spread like an eagle. 

Jungkook sat down beside you. “Are you still mad at me?” 

The question seemed to sober you up instantly. The truth was—you could never stay mad at him. For anything. Sometimes, you’d think he could do the most painful and hurtful thing to you, deliberately, and you would still forgive him even if he wouldn’t apologize. 

“I wasn’t mad. I was just… I just wished you would’ve told me the real reason why you wanted to come here,” you replied softly, biting your lower lip. 

“Would you have come? If I told you I wanted to go here because my ex wanted to reconnect—would you have come?” Jungkook matched your tone, looking over his shoulder to look at you. 

Instinctively, your eyes also darted towards his. The lights in the room were dim, only the lamp, the light coming beneath the bathroom door, and the moonlight outside illuminated the room. Jungkook looked especially beautiful in the dim light—long black wavy hair all messy from his habit of running his fingers through it, hooded eyes staring at you like he was memorizing every inch of you, the gentleness of his features made him look like an angel in this light. 

But then you’d see his dozens of piercings in his ears, eyebrow, and lower lip; his tattooed arm and hand, and the way he looked sexy as hell with his thin white long sleeved, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and his white beach shorts that hugged his strong muscular thighs, and you’d realize he was more of a Greek god than an angel. 

“I’ll go wherever you go,” you told him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know that.” 

Jungkook lied down beside you and you felt your heartbeat racing. His tattooed arm was brushing against yours. His head was tilted, close to yours. 

“Will you go with me to the moon?” he asked. 

A small smile ghosted on your lips. “I will, Guk.” 

“How about Saturn?” 

“I’ll be with you there, too.” 

“Law school?” 

You turned your head to him. He was already looking at you. “Law school? Why?” 

He brushed the hair on your face aside with his fingers, making you tense. But you kept your composure. “I passed UP LAE.” 

“But,” you began. “What about film? I thought you didn’t wanna become a lawyer like your parents.” 

Jungkook looked at the ceiling. “It’s not that bad. Being a lawyer. Besides, I like studying.” 

“You’ve always wanted to become a director, though.” 

“I’m not good enough for it,” Jungkook scoffed. “All my batchmates are already directing their films and showing them at festivals here and abroad—yet here I am. Still here.” 

You turned on your side, propping your elbow to support your head as you looked at your best friend. It was rare for Jungkook to open up. Even to you. He was always someone who kept all his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself. In the seven years you’d known him, it still felt like there was a wall around him that you never managed to climb on or punch through. For seven years, it felt like you simultaneously knew everything and nothing about your best friend. 

“It’s not the end of the road, Jungkook. So what if they’re showing their films at festivals? You can do it too. At your own pace, in your own time,” you said. You wanted to reach for his face, to make him look at you, but you were scared. “You’re a great filmmaker, Guk. The best direk ever.” 

He looked at you once again. “You’re drunk, Yu Sola. Go to sleep.” 

He sat up, carrying your legs over the bed. You let out a groan. “I’m not drunk, Jeon Jungkook. Why do you always do that?” 

“Do what?” he asked, chuckling. 

“You always cut the conversation when you’re beginning to open up. You always clamp up, Guk. I wish you didn’t do that. I’m your—,” you bit the inside of your lower lip. What right did I have to demand him to open up to me? “I’m your best friend.” 

“I don’t clamp up. I just have nothing else to say,” your best friend replied with a shrug, fixing his hair as he looked in the mirror across from your bed. “Go to sleep. You’ll get a massive headache tomorrow. I’m just going to meet with Areum and her friends.”  

Then, you blurted it out. It just happened. You didn’t even know how. You always had this grand idea in your mind to do it after the graduation ceremony, that way, you could immediately leave. That way, you didn’t have to see him all the time. You would have enough time to move on and move forward in your life. 

But nothing in life truly went according to plan. 

“I love you, Jungkook,” you confessed. Your heart felt heavy and you sat up, head hanging low as you picked on your nails. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes. “I’ve loved you for seven years now.” 

And you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. Then, moments later, you felt your hands being taken away from your face. You lifted your head and saw Jungkook kneeling in front of you, holding your hands. He let one go to wipe away the tears on your face, to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

And then, ever so slowly, Jungkook leaned in and kissed you softly. A tear rolled down your cheek. His lips were soft while yours were chapped and wet from your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were still in shock. This was not the response you expected. Not even in your wildest dreams but it was happening. 

Jungkook held your face, tilting his head as he continued to kiss you more—only this time with more need and passion. Your body reacted. You began to reciprocate his kisses, hands wrapping around his wrists. He tasted of toothpaste and mouthwash. 

He pushed you onto the bed, one hand remaining on your face while the other held your waist. Your fingers curled the ends of his hair. You could feel his growing member on your stomach and feeling it was enough to make your cunt wet. His lips then traveled on your jaw, down to your neck. You were breathing heavily as he nibbled on your sensitive skin, making a soft moan escape your lips. 

His hand made its way under your shirt and your breath hitched, causing Jungkook to lift his head from your neck, and look you in the eyes. 

“You okay?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” he smiled, making your heart skip a beat. “Is it okay if I take this off now?” 

“I—,” you were at a loss for words. Was this really happening? It seemed too good to be true. But it was happening and you wanted it more than anything else. “Okay. Yes, you can.” 

Jungkook peeled your shirt off, exposing your naked chest. You didn’t wear bras; found it too much of a hassle and you always hated the feeling. Instead, you wore nipple tapes. 

“What are these, Sola?” Jungkook asked with a chuckle, making your cheeks heat up. 

“They’re nipple tapes, you dumb ass,” you replied, smacking his arm lightly. 

“Okay. Do I just take them off, like, tape?” 

He was adorably cute. “Yes, you just take them off like tape.” 

And so he did just that. The coolness of the room and your arousal instantly perked your nipples. Jungkook took your breasts in his hands, massaging and squeezing them, making you arch your back ever so slightly. Then, he dipped his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while remaining to massage the other. 

The sensation was simply divine. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, your feelings for your best friend, or just Jungkook in general that made you feel so good at that moment. Your hands traced the outline of his toned biceps through his thin polo. 

You were so wet and when Jungkook began to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt, you felt another wave of wetness. You wanted him—all of him—and so you began to rock your hips against him, making him release a moan. 

He lifted his head, staring at you with those doe eyes you have loved for seven years. “Are you sure?” 

Those three words held so much. Once you crossed the line, there was no going back, and both of you knew that. 

“I’m sure. I want this, Guk. I want you.” 

That was all he needed to hear to make love to you the whole night. Once both of you came, Jungkook laid beside you, chest heaving. For a while, the both of you lay in silence. 

“Will you be here in the morning?” you asked, turning your head on the pillow to face him. 

He did the same. “I will,” he promised. “Go to sleep now, Sola.” 

But he wasn’t. 

When you woke up the next day, the other side of the bed was empty. You sat up, burying your face in your hands. What the hell have I done? What the hell have we done? 

You left the bed, entering the bathroom, and proceeding to take a shower. In there, you cried, because nothing was going to be the same after last night. You couldn’t blame it all on Jungkook either. You also made it happen. You desperately wished it was just a dream—another wet dream you had of your best friend—but the traces of his cum were still on your inner thigh. 

It happened. There was no going back. Everything was going to be different now and most of all, you didn’t know if you still had your best friend. 

When you finished showering and getting dressed, you made your way down to the beach. You had texted Mingyu while getting dressed and he told you he was there with the chinito you saw him with, Wonwoo. Arriving at the beach, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket, about to text the honey-skinned med student when you saw Jungkook with Areum in the water, his strong arms that held you throughout the night, now wrapped around her waist. Fits of giggles escaped her lips as Jungkook wrestled with her in the water, a huge grin on his handsome face. 

Your heart shattered. 

You quickly looked away, a fresh set of tears forming in your eyes. As you were about to turn away, you heard Mingyu’s familiar voice which caused you to stop on your tracks. 

“Sola, hey, there you—what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice was palpable. You felt his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. 

“I—I finally told him, Gyu,” you said, taking in a sharp shaky breath. “I finally told him.” 

Mingyu didn’t ask for more details. He knew. He led you back to your room, promising Wonwoo to text him later. Once you were back, you just cried on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything and neither did you. He just let you be until the tears finally stopped. 

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from Wonwoo. He seems like a nice guy,” you said after a while, voice raspy from all the crying. 

“It’s fine. We’ll be seeing each other often anyway,” Mingyu shared. 

You looked at him, surprised. “Really?” 

Your friend nodded, laughing to himself. “You know, all those times I teased you about your being a hopeless romantic and believing in love—I think it’s backfiring on me now with Wonwoo.” 

“You love him?” you asked. 

“I don’t know, Sola. But I know what I feel for him is different,” he answered. “It’s terrifying. How quickly someone can change your perspective on something.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. 

“What’s your plan now?” Mingyu asked. 

You sighed deeply. “I think I’m going to head back. My graduation is tomorrow anyway. Do you mind booking the bus ride home?” 

“I’m staying here, Sola. I—I want to be with Wonwoo more,” Mingyu confessed, smiling at you apologetically. 

“Gyu…” 

“Please be a friend to me now, Sola.” 

You pressed your lips tightly. Then, you nodded. You wanted your friend to be happy. 

“I’m gonna pack now,” you announced. 

“Okay. Just text me if you need anything,” Mingyu gave you a hug and kiss on top of your head. “I want you to know I’m proud of you, Sola.” 

Once Mingyu left, you began to pack. You didn’t bring a lot of clothes, but you were still biding your time. A part of you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay here and never graduate. But that illusion was quickly broken when you saw your mom’s contact flashing on your phone screen. 

You sucked your teeth before answering, “Hi mom.” 

“Sola? Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you been answering my texts? Your graduation is tomorrow. Everyone is looking forward to it!” she exclaimed frantically. 

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m in La Union with Jungkook and—,” 

“What the hell are you doing in La Union?! You better get back instantly, Sola. I’m not kidding. If you don’t graduate now, I really don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s been seven years! Please let me graduate too.” 

“I’m already packing and I’ll catch the bus home soon. I just—Mom, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it in time for the ceremony ‘cos—,” 

Your phone was suddenly snatched from your grip. You looked up and saw Jungkook standing beside you. 

“Hey tita, it’s Jungkook. Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll take her home. She’ll make it in time. Yes. We’ll be home before the ceremony, tita. Okay. Bye.” 

He ended the call and sat down on the bed across from you, handing you your phone back. You grabbed it from him. “You don’t have to take me home.” 

“I already promised tita I will,” he answered. 

“You didn’t have to,” you muttered, folding your shirt. 

Silence. Jungkook was just staring at you the entire time as you folded your clothes and packed them inside your bag. Then, he said those two words. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You bit the inside of your lower lip. What was he exactly for? For having sex with you? For spending the night with you? For not feeling the same way as you? All of the above? 

As if reading your thoughts, he added, “For everything.” 

You nodded. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you told him. “It’s not your fault you don’t love me the same way.” But why did you kiss me? Why did you make love to me? 

Jungkook lowered his head. You zipped your bag. “Let’s go. I still have a graduation to chase.” 

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed when you saw Areum standing beside Jungkook’s car with her luggage and bag. 

“I’ll drop Areum on the way,” Jungkook announced, grabbing her luggage and putting it at the back of his car. 

You pressed your lips in a line. “Fine.” You stepped into the back passenger seat, quickly grabbing your phone and earphones from your bag, and plugging it in. 

Lowering yourself on the seat, you rested your head against the window as Areum stepped into the passenger seat while Jungkook sat on the driver’s seat. You caught him glancing at you from the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you turned the volume up. Moments later, he began to drive. 

You decided to sleep the entire ride. However, when you woke up, you immediately realized Jungkook wasn’t driving in your hometown. “Where are we?” you asked, taking one of your earphones off. 

“I’m dropping Areum first,” Jungkook replied. 

You frowned. “I’m the one chasing a graduation, remember?” 

“Shh, just go back to sleep. Here,” he threw something at you—your favorite candy, Butterball, landing on your lap. 

You grabbed it, tempted to eat it, but you threw it back at him and went back to sleep. By the time you woke up again, you were at Areum’s house. She turned to look at you, smiling. 

She was really beautiful and kind. You began to feel guilty for hating her so much the entire time. “Congrats on your graduation, Sola. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“Thanks Areum.” 

After Jungkook walked her to her door, he came back to the car. “What are you doing there? Come here,” he said, patting the passenger seat. 

“I’m fine here,” you replied. 

“Sola, come on. Please? I drive better with you beside me.” 

For the rest of the ride to your home, you sat beside Jungkook. Unlike before, where your car rides were filled with music and random conversations, tonight it was silent. You didn’t plug your phone into his stereo and you kept your eyes closed the whole time, listening to your music. Once in a while, Jungkook would try to make small talk, but you would only give him short replies, then went back to sleeping. 

When you arrived at your family house, you stayed with Jungkook outside for a bit, both leaning against his car. 

“It’s your graduation in four hours.” 

“Are you not going to come to yours?” 

“I don’t see the point,” Jungkook replied. 

You nodded and pushed yourself off his car. “I’ll head inside. Thanks for the ride, Jungkook.” 

He grabbed your arm before you entered the gate. You stared into his eyes. You couldn’t quite place what held them right now. Maybe you never really knew Jeon Jungkook after all this time. 

“I’m sorry, Sola.” 

“Why do you keep saying sorry? I told you—it’s not your fault and I’m fine. I’m over it now. See you around, Jungkook.” 

You head back inside. Graduation was in four hours. 

You wore a traditional Filipiniana dress, a pair of white heels that were already scraping the skin at the back of your feet, your mother’s pearls, and your sablay when your name was called. You came up on the stage with your excited mother, shook hands with your Dean, and finally grabbed your diploma. You always imagined graduation to be something so spectacular, but the moment you received the piece of paper that confirmed you had, indeed, graduated—you just felt the same. 

After the ceremony, you went back to your house where almost all your relatives from your mother’s side were waiting for you. A tarpaulin with your graduation picture and the words, “Congratulations Yu Sola!” printed on it and hung outside your gate. You greeted everyone on your way, telling them thanks, before retreating in your room to change out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. 

While you were slipping on your shirt, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. When you grabbed it, you saw Jungkook’s message on the lockscreen. 

Let’s go, it said. 

You knew it meant one thing: a beer and butterball at Route 96. There was still a part of you that wanted to go because you always went when you received a message like that from Jungkook. It was always a yes when it came to him. But now that you confessed, something shifted, whether he admitted to it himself or not. 

So, you put your phone in your pocket, and went down. But as you do so, you felt your phone vibrate again. You pulled it out of your pocket and Jungkook texted you another message. 

Please? One for the road. I’m outside. 

You bit your lower lip. Then, you made your way out. There, you saw Jungkook wearing his barong and sablay, leaning against his car like hours ago. He smiled as soon as he saw you come out. 

“You still have it,” he pointed to your shirt. 

You looked down on it and realized you had picked his shirt of all things. It wasn’t anything special; just something he bought at a boutique. But it meant a lot to you because he gave it to you after you spilled beer on your shirt years ago. 

“You attended your ceremony?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. He nodded. “I thought you didn’t see the point.” 

“I changed my mind.” 

You wished you were just as quick in having a change of heart. 

“One for the road?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

You took a deep breath and nodded. “One for the road.” 

“Shit, I forgot it’s Sunday. It’s closed,” Jungkook sighed, seeing the steel gate at Route 96. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you told him, grabbing the beer he bought beforehand and making your way up to the bar. Jungkook followed behind. 

You both leaned in the railing before you, beer in hands. Another silence. 

You couldn’t believe this was the culmination of the seven years you spent loving Jeon Jungkook. You thought, after confessing, you would never speak again. He’d distance himself from you but here you were—having a beer with him at your favorite place in the world. You wished you knew what was going on in his mind right now. You wished you could dissect his mind and learn every thought he had ever since you confessed. 

Because you never really knew Jeon Jungkook. You were just so in love with him and idealized who he was over the last seven years. Suddenly, all the stupid memories you shared with Mingyu flashed in your mind and made you laugh. 

“What’s funny?” Jungkook asked, chuckling. 

You shook your head, drinking your beer. “Nothing.” 

He nudged your side. “Come on, share it.” 

You took a deep breath and for the first time, you looked at Jeon Jungkook and saw him for who he was; not the man you have loved for the past seven years. 

“I graduated, finally.” 

↪˚ author’s note: if you want to donate to me via kofi or gcash <33 i would appreciate it a lot. thank you & see you in more fics later on.

↪˚ permanent taglist: @whoa-jo @kookieandjoonberries

all rights reserved. 2024. belovedguk.

[archive-of-music]

ID. a rectangular flag of nine uneven stripes where the fifth stripe is thinner than all others. the colors go from top to bottom as electric blue, light electric blue, light green, white, grass green, white, light green, light electric blue, and electric blue.

a rectangular flag of nine uneven stripes where the fifth stripe is thinner than all others. the colors go from top to bottom as vibrant red, muted cyan, purple, muted neon green, reddish pink, muted neon green, purple, muted cyan, and vibrant red.

a rectangular flag of nine uneven stripes where the fifth stripe is thinner than all others. the colors go from top to bottom as cherry red, dark wine red, matte black, beige, cherry red, beige, dark wine red, and cherry red.

a rectangular flag of nine uneven stripes where the fifth stripe is thinner than all others. the colors go from top to bottom as muted cyan, medium cyan, dark cyan, blue, black, blue, dark cyan, medium cyan, and muted cyan.

a rectangular flag of nine uneven stripes where the fifth stripe is thinner than all others. the colors go from top to bottom as neon yellow, dark turquoise, neon yellow, vibrant blue, black, vibrant blue, dark turquoise, and neon yellow. end ID

(mostly) k-pop musicagenders bcz i'm fixated...

justbreathesongic

a -songic gender for just breathe by sky-hi ft. 3racha of stray kids

dimplesongic

a -songic gender for dimples by woosung

lonelyboysongic

a -songic gender for lonely boy (the tattoo on my ring finger) by tomorrow x together

guardyousongic

a -songic gender for guard you by young k

hellostrangersongic

a -songic gender for hello stranger by stray kids

[key201303]

Pairing: Woosung x reader. Word count: 1157 words Warnings: Just a bunch of fluff and love Plot: Woosung asks you to marry him. A/N: I'm so in love with this concept and I really see him doing something like this with his S/O. We stan a king 💕 Hope you enjoy reading this little scenario 💕 P. S. Dojoon was the one giving me this idea when he mentioned he saw Woosung asking his gf to marry him with a sour candy ring as a joke Taglist -> let me know if you want to be added! VALENTINE'S DAY X THE ROSE

It was a normal day in the office. Hajoon was practicing some beats, Jaehyeong was eating some snacks while playing on his phone, Woosung was in his studio playing with some melodies that have been clouding his mind lately and Dojoon was Dojooning as always.

You were surprised how calmed the building was but it was always like that once the tour was over. The only difference was the way Woosung had been treating you lately. And it is that after dating someone for almost 10 years should be a reason enough to get tired of the relationship or feel it a bit monotonous but in fact your relationship with Woosung was far away from that. You were not complaining at all but you had to admit you were surprised that Woosung has been treating you in a very lovely and a very clingy way lately.

He has always been very goofy with you but he was more lately. He has always been very territorial with you, not wanting anybody to have any opportunity to steal you from him, but he has been more lately. He would even ask you to sit on his lap whenever you were with the rest of the members or with friends, stating that he just wanted to be close to you.

You’ve tried asking him if there was something that made him act like that but he just said that it was because of the tour and not having enough quality time with you because of the tight schedules. Little did you know what he had in mind.

You exited the convenience store with a bag full of food to eat lunch with Woosung, just like you promised you would do once the tour was over. You decided to get some extra food to share with the rest of the boys even though Woosung told you that he wouldn’t let anybody interrupt your little date.

Once you arrived, you both went straight to the small terrace the building had. The same terrace where you took one of your favorite pictures that perfectly showed the personalities of your boyfriend and one of your best friends. The same terrace where you took that picture of him and Dojoon in underwear before a shooting while Woosung smoked. You were so in love with that picture for some reason.

“I have a few surprises for you today.” He said as you both ate in peace. You widened your eyes. “It’s not my birthday yet.” You said laughing. “What? Can’t I give the woman of my life a surprise without any specific reason?” He playfully said, placing a big kiss on your cheek making you blush. “It’s amazing how after 10 years I still make you blush with just a kiss.” He admired you, placing another big kiss on your cheek, this time harder. “What’s wrong with you?” You said, laughing uncontrollably and cringing a bit at his sudden behavior. “I just love you so much.” He said, a wide smile decorating his cherry lips. They looked so tempting. So sweet. You were about to get a taste of them and drown that smile in a deep kiss when he removed his face from you, turning to take a small box from his pocket. “Open it.” He said as he continued to finish his noodles.

When you opened the box, a sour candy ring popped out. You looked at him in confusion, not understanding what was going on. “Marry me?” He said, mouth full of the last bite of his noodles. You couldn’t believe he was asking you such a question in the least romantic way and with the least romantic ring. “You gotta be kidding me.” You said, a serious tone appearing in your voice, disappointment written all over your face. You’ve always dreamt about how he would ask you to be his wife but this was definitely not in the list of scenarios you imagined. He let out a soft laugh. “Meet me downstairs then.” He said, leaving you alone with your sour candy ring.

You ran behind him, not understanding what was going on. And then you finally found the room where everything was settled for a proper proposal. “Is this more of what you imagined?” He said with a cheeky smile, full of satisfaction for teasing you back on the terrace with that candy. “Fuck you Kim Woosung.” You said, tears already forming in the corner of your eyes as you hit his chest and covered your face. “Sure Mrs. Kim (Y/N).” He said, taking you into his arms, a massive smile decorating his face. Hearing him call you with his last name made your heart skip a beat. “I guess we’ll go to the first band wedding then.” Dojoon teased. “Actually I haven’t even asked her properly yet.” Woosung said, releasing his embrace from you. He signed for you to wait a moment and stand in front of him while clearing his throat before he started his little speech. “After 10 years, we managed to support each other and deal with each other’s annoying selves.” He teased, gaining a drown in tears laugh from you. At this point you didn’t care anymore if you were ugly crying in front of everyone. You didn’t care if he teased you about it afterwards because that was the boy you fell in love with 10 years ago. “We’ve shared cigarettes, alcohol bottles, hangovers, beds, foods, drinks, sickness and even DNA when we kiss…” He continued, making you laugh at the memory of all the things he mentioned. “You didn’t need to be that specific…” Jaehyeong quietly said disgustedly at that last statement. But Woosung ignored him. “And now, you would make me so happy and proud if you accept sharing our life until death do us apart.” He said, finally revealing a beautiful ring with a few rubies on it. You were amazed by its beauty.

“So? Would you marry me?” He asked, waiting impatiently for your answer. “Of course yes.” You said, throwing yourself into his arms. “You didn’t look this convinced when I asked you out there.” He said hugging you tightly, a massive smile drawn in his face. “That was not a proposal.” You said, letting go of him and staring with a death glare. “You at least gotta admit it was original.” He said proud of his first attempt. “Can you just put the ring on her finger and kiss?” Hajoon said impatiently, making everyone laugh.

And just like that Woosung was ready to give everything he had to take care of you. To show you he is the husband you always knew he was. And you were ready to show him you were made to be with him ever since you both met. Now another 10, 20, 30, 40, 1000000 years wait for both of you. Just like Woosung said, until death do you apart and even more.

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Fourteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: drinking, references to blow jobs that happened like 60 seconds before the chapter starts, Jungkook's a bit possessive, Jin's a bit jealous, mentions of pregnancy, references to sex, 2021 AMAs Jungkook is the wedding visual, special guest stars Woosung and El Capitxn

Word Count: 7.5k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: Happy two years of Paradise!! 🎉 Two years ago today, I posted the first chapter of what was going to be a five-part series. So to say I can't believe we're here is really no joke!! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, reblogged, sent me asks or DM'd me about this series - this is all because of you! 💜💜💜

Unbeta'd as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Taglist is open. 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist ♦️ Next Chapter

Turns out that impulsiveness looks pretty good on you. 

Or so you think to yourself, catching your reflection in the mirror of the men’s room as you leave Jungkook to collect himself after giving him the best blow job of his life (your words - although, based on the look on his face as you’d swallowed, you might not be far off). 

You hadn’t planned on dragging him into the bathroom like that, but upon seeing him walk out onto the terrace in that grey belted suit, looking like an absolute dream, well, you simply could not help yourself.

You also hadn’t meant to tell him you missed him last night. But you had, because you did. God, when had you turned into this - this massive simp? It was only yesterday morning that you’d woken up in Jungkook’s embrace. You’d barely spent 24 hours apart - so why were you so desperate to get back into his arms?

Of course, none of this matters right now. There are only minutes to go before the ceremony begins, and you need to pull your head out of the clouds and get back to Jennie and the others. Starting by escaping the men’s room sight unseen.

“YN!” 

Or not.

As soon as you close the door, you hear Jin’s voice calling to you. He’s standing at the other end of the little hallway, near the entrance to the reception room.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to be the most nonchalant you’ve ever been in your life, as if you weren’t just gagging on Jungkook’s dick in a public bathroom. 

Jin smiles as you approach, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes you nervous, and you’re so busy trying to come up with a valid excuse for why he saw you emerging from the men’s room that you apparently forget how to walk, trip over the hem of your gown, and crash directly against his chest. 

“Easy, tiger!” he laughs, arms locking around your back as he helps you stand back upright. “I’m used to ladies throwing themselves at me, but only you’ve taken it literally.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re pretty sure he’s not lying about fighting off admirers, given that he looks like a supermodel in his crisply tailored tuxedo. His bowtie is a little crooked thanks to being squashed by your face during your ungainly landing, so you gently fix it, and Jin thanks you with a soft grin. 

“I left my glasses at home, so tell me - did I just see you leav-” Jin suddenly stops in the middle of his sentence, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. “Oh. Nevermind, I see.” He takes a step back, arms falling from your waist.

Another hand slips into yours. 

Jungkook didn’t wait very long before following you out of the restroom. He squeezes your hand as you glance at him, but he stares directly at Jin, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly as if - as if -

Oh, shit. 

“You left this behind, jagiya.” Jungkook turns to you, his face shifting into a softer expression as he produces your clutch like some sort of trophy. You must’ve left it on the counter. “Did you want me to hold it during the ceremony?” 

Your brain is lagging severely at the moment, trying to process two major facts at once. Fact one: Jin obviously realized that you were with Jungkook in the bathroom. Fact two: you completely forgot to tell Jungkook that Jin would be at the wedding. Which, given the events of the last 24 hours, it’s understandable that it slipped your mind, but this isn’t how you’d expected to officially introduce them. And he doesn’t exactly look thrilled to run into him now. 

On top of that, Jungkook has asked you a question. And is now waiting for an answer, while Jin watches in polite silence. 

“Um. Yes. Sorry, yes, can you keep an eye on it for me?” 

Jungkook nods, tucking the clutch into his jacket and patting it lightly. “Of course,” he says, nodding solemnly, as if you’d just asked him to protect precious goods and not a cheap bag full of tissues and mints. 

Jin clears his throat lightly. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, Jin, this is Koo- Jungkook. Jungkook, Jin.” 

Of all the ways for these two to meet, this might not be the most embarrassing, but it’s definitely up there. There’s still a bit of Jungkook’s taste lingering on your tongue as the two men shake hands, Jin wincing slightly. 

You try to quickly fill Jungkook in. “Jin’s the best man.” 

“Sure am.” Jin grins. 

“He and Yoongi grew up together,” you add, ignoring Jin’s little interjection, knowing that Jungkook didn’t miss it based on the way his jaw flexes violently, as if he’s gnashing his teeth. 

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. That’s quite a grip you have there.” Jin slides his hands into his pockets. “YN’s told me a little about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jungkook replies, inclining his head slightly. His hand returns to yours, fingers locking firmly. “Wish I could say the same, but YN never mentions you.” 

You try to control your face as you look at Jungkook. What did he just say?

Jin just grins wider. “So… she said you’re a dancer?” 

“Yeah, I'm a dancer. But I’m also an artist,” Jungkook replies, chest puffing out slightly. 

“Yes! You should see his work, Jin. He’s an incredibly talented painter,” you add, and the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smile. “I might actually have a photo on my phone…” 

Jungkook doesn’t give you any time to check. “Y’know, I think I’ve heard of you. You’re a cook, right? I think my halmeoni watches your show.” 

If Jungkook intended that as a jab, Jin shows no sign that he felt it. “Well, technically, I’m a chef. And a restaurateur. But yes, I do host a successful cooking program - actually, it’s about to be turned into a series for a major network.”

“Right. So like I said. You cook.”

Jin’s the one twitching now, his eyebrow rising slightly at Jungkook’s blasé tone. But rather than looking annoyed, Jin looks amused. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still glowering. You, though? Your smile feels a little strained as you try not to react to the snarky shots being fired off around you. Jungkook seems more rattled than you’d expected by Jin’s presence. You’ve never heard him talk like this. 

“You’re right, I do cook a little,” Jin laughs. “I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. But YN could tell you, since I’ve cooked for her a few times.” He glances at you, the sparkle in his eye you’d noted earlier back and twinkling a little too merrily for your comfort. “From what I remember, she’s been pretty satisfied every time.” 

And you’d thought this couldn’t get any more awkward than running into Jin post-beej. How silly of you. 

Jungkook’s fingers grip yours tighter. “And yet not satisfied enough to ever bring it up. Huh. Sounds like it was kinda forgettable.” 

Jin’s eyes flicker to yours questioningly and you cringe, still struggling to come up with anything to say that could make this conversation less tense. At this point, you’d be better off wishing for the ground to open up beneath you, as useless as your brain is being.

Jin coughs. “Anyway, YN, Yoongi asked me to tell you to tell Jennie that the officiant is running a little late. Nothing to worry about!” he adds hastily upon seeing your concerned face. “Just caught in traffic. But on his way.” 

Great, another thing for Jennie to stress out about. “Okay. I’ll let her know.” 

Guests are starting to fill up the rows of chairs on the other side of the glass wall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lisa heading towards you, waving your bouquet. Thankful for the interruption, you stretch out your hand. 

“Come on, we’re cutting it close on time!” she announces. “Hey, what happened to your lipstick?” 

“Uh…” Rather than answer, you opt for escape, tugging on Jungkook’s hand lightly to urge him to follow you. “One sec, Lis. Come on, Jungkook, let’s find you a seat.” 

“See you at the altar!” Jin calls behind you, and you wince, feeling Jungkook stiffen momentarily. 

There’s an empty chair on the end of a row on the bride’s side. Jungkook folds himself into it, placing your clutch delicately on his lap. 

“Um, so, we already took photos earlier, so I’ll just come find you after the ceremony.”

“Okay.” Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, nodding. 

An unsettling feeling comes over you. Should you apologize for not telling him about Jin? Or say something about what just happened in the hallway? What did just happen, anyway? 

Through the glass, you can see Lisa waving, pointing at her watch. Shit. Whatever happened, you’ll just have to talk about it later.

As you turn to leave, Jungkook grabs your wrist. He threads his fingers through yours, pulling you closer to him, until his lips brush your cheek. “See you soon, jagiya.” He gives you another soft smile, sunlight sparkling in his eyes. The angry scowl from the hallway is nowhere to be seen. 

Your head is a mess as you follow Lisa. How had you not mentioned to Jungkook that Jin would be here? Damn, maybe he was right - maybe you really never talk about Jin. 

Both men had warned you when you started dating them that they could get competitive. Apparently that meant passive aggressive disses and weirdly possessive behavior. If this is how the two of them are going to behave, you’re in for a long day. 

A small room cordoned off from the rest of the rooftop restaurant has been turned into the bride’s waiting room. Jisoo’s doing a last pass on Jennie’s makeup when you arrive. She takes one look at you and reaches for a tube of lipstick sitting on the makeshift vanity. 

“Babe, what happened to you? You look stressed.” 

Rosé hums in agreement. “I expected you to stumble in here looking more satisfied than that. You dragged Jungkook away at lightning speed!” 

“Pucker up,” Jisoo orders you, and you obey, letting her fix your lips. 

“Mmm, well, I found her talking to both Jungkook and Jin in the hallway, so maybe that has something to do with it?” Lisa pipes up, eyebrow raised. 

“Oh shit, did something go down?” Rosé asks, a little too excited for your taste. 

“Well, actually,” you start to say, then shake your head. This is the last thing you need right now. This day is too important to be derailed by your love life. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Oh, but Jin did say that the officiant’s running a little late, Jennie. He’s on his way, so there’s no need to panic, but the ceremony might start a few minutes later than planned.” 

“Oh, see, Jennie? I told you there was no reason to worry - now you’re not the only one who’s late!” 

“Jisoo!” Lisa hisses. Rosé covers her mouth to suppress her giggles. 

Jennie, who has been sitting silently since you walked in, inspecting her appearance in the makeup mirror, lets out a strangled sound that’s a cross between a laugh and a wail, and buries her face in her hands. 

“Girl, please do not make me fix your makeup again,” Jisoo pleads as she crouches next to Jennie. You pull up a chair next to her and sigh, rubbing Jennie’s arm lightly. 

“Ji’s lame attempts at humor aside, how are you feeling?” you ask.

Your best friend is absolutely radiant in her white gown, dark hair tumbling in gentle waves down her back as she turns to you. 

“I’m still okay. I know things were a little… dramatic yesterday, but really, I’m okay today. You guys don’t have to keep asking me how I’m feeling.” Jennie clasps your hands, giving you a soft smile. “I’m excited and I’m nervous but more than all of that I’m ready to marry the love of my life.” She pauses. “I think maybe I should use the bathroom again, though. I guess I have some time.” 

“I’ll help you,” Lisa volunteers, gathering Jennie’s train and following her out of the room. 

You’re quiet until the door closes behind them. “Okay, was anyone else expecting her to freak out about the ceremony starting late?” 

“She’s keeping it together, somehow,” Jisoo shrugs. “I think she’s still a bit in shock, honestly. But she’ll be okay.”

“She’s fine, as long as no one mentions anything about the you-know-what,” Rosé informs you, crossing her arms as she glares at Jisoo. 

“You don’t have to censor yourself when she’s not in the room.” Jisoo rolls her eyes. 

Your friends fall into their usual bickering, but you’re too deep in your thoughts about Jennie to bother telling them to knock it off. Maybe Jisoo’s right and she’s still adjusting. Just another reason to try to stay focused on her and make sure everything goes perfectly for her and Yoongi.

It’s the least you can do for your friend, after the day she had yesterday.

Yesterday

Friday morning brings you a sweet surprise. You weren’t expecting to wake up with Jungkook in your bed. He spent most of the night making you forget all about Taehyung’s joking offer to drop to his knees at your promise to help him, doing such a good job that you’d almost forgotten your own name, too. You’d figured he’d slip out in the middle of the night after you’d fallen asleep. 

You were wrong. He’s still here, all messy bedhead and sleepy eyes, laughing quietly about alarm clocks and wrapping you up in his arms. He follows you like a puppy as you start your morning routine - into the shower, back into your room, and then into your kitchen - and honestly it’s no wonder that you decide to take the day off to spend it with him. The thought of repeating yesterday and hanging out with him all day is too tempting to refuse. Even though you’ll see him pretty much all day tomorrow at the wedding - look, if he’s down for it, then why not?

And then somehow the universe decides that your day has only been maybe a solid eight out of ten so far and decides to kick it up a few more notches, by offering you a possible life boat off the sinking ship that is your job. 

Hey YN!

I know this is ridiculously fast, but my company has an opening, and I think you’d be great for the job! Long story short someone unexpectedly quit yesterday, so now we have a position we  need to fill immediately. I hope it’s okay, but I’ve given your name to our VP in charge of hiring and she’d like to bring you in for an interview! She asked me to reach out and see if you’d be all right with coming in next week - I know that’s fast, but this is for a new project that’s being rushed to production so we really need someone to crunch some numbers ASAP! 

Let me know if you’re interested!

Best,

Wendy

As if that’s not enough, Jungkook offers to help you practice for the interview, and suddenly you can’t see through the hearts in your eyes. Could he be any sweeter? You thank him, and he kisses you, and you melt, lost in his warmth. 

Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. “How many more emails do you need to answer?” 

“Um…” you stare at your laptop. “Let me just respond to Wendy and then I’m done.”

“Cool.” Jungkook stretches. His t-shirt rises with the motion, his Adonis belt briefly visible, and you know he’s caught your stare when he smirks. You quickly turn back to your computer, but he just wraps his arms around your shoulders, catching you in a back hug.

“I’m gonna go home and take off these dirty clothes,” he murmurs, teeth nipping your earlobe. “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll be waiting.” 

“Fuck,” you breath. Jungkook laughs, obviously pleased at the effect he has on you. He’s such a tease sometimes. You’re trying to figure out how to flip the tables on him when your ringtone starts trilling.

Be still, my heaaaaart…

“Oh god, I bet that’s my boss, wanting to talk me out of taking off.” You frown as you check the screen. “Shit, it’s Jisoo. I gotta take this.” 

“Hey, do you have a second?” Jisoo’s voice comes through a little strained. And loud. She’s talking over some sort of high-pitched wailing. It takes you a minute to figure out that it’s a person’s voice making that sound.

“Ji! What’s going on? Wait, what’s that sound? Is that Jennie? Is she crying?”

“Yeah, that’s Jennie. She’s - she’s had - well,” Jisoo sighs. “Look, I’m over at her place because I wanted to treat her to a manicure today because I know she’s been too busy to schedule one and you know how she gets about her nails so I thought it would be a nice surprise but when I got here - oh, you know what, this is not important to the story, why am I telling you this?” 

“Just get to the point, Ji!”

“I’m trying! I’m sorry, it’s been a big morning and - what?” There’s a muffled conversation happening suddenly, and you stare blankly at your computer as you wait for Jisoo to return. You don’t know what the hell is going on, but you don’t like any of it.

“Just ask her to come over!” you hear Lisa say in the background. Lisa’s at Jennie’s, too? 

“I was getting to that!”

With a frustrated sigh, you try to get Jisoo’s attention. “Okay, okay, I’m coming over!”

“Do you mind? I know you have to work-”

“No, I’m not working today, I….” You pause, knowing that Jungkook’s just in the kitchen, likely able to hear everything you’re saying, not wanting to embarrass yourself by admitting that you took the day off just to be with him. “It’s a long story, I’ll explain when I get there.” 

You don’t end up explaining anything once you arrive. That’s because as soon as Lisa opens Jennie’s door, she greets you with a tiny white stick bearing two little pink lines. Rosé is right behind her, beaming from ear to ear. 

“Oh my god.” 

“I know!” Lisa grins, throwing her hands in the air. “Baby Min, coming to you soon!” 

You frown, glancing over Lisa’s shoulder. “Where is she?” 

The sound of Jennie’s crying gets louder as you approach the master suite. When Lisa stops outside the bedroom closet, you grab her arm. 

“Before I go in there - are those happy tears or sad tears?” You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you need to know what to expect. 

Lisa grimaces. “Somewhere in the middle, I think.” 

Jennie’s curled up beneath the hangers of clothing stuffed into the closet that she shares with Yoongi. She’s wearing one of his oversized hoodies, sniffling into the black material as Jisoo, smushed into the corner beside her, carefully untangles herself. 

“Tag, you’re in,” she says, taking the hand you offer to pull her to her feet. 

There’s not a lot of room for you but you squish yourself in as best you can, and immediately tuck Jennie against you. Jisoo closes the door behind you. 

“Hi, babe.” 

“Hi,” Jennie’s voice is wavery and small, so far from her usual confident, cheerful tone, that it hurts your heart. “Did they tell you?” 

“I saw.” 

Jennie settles against you, hiccuping slightly through her tears. “This wasn’t part of the plan.” 

“I know.” 

Jennie has been mapping out her and Yoongi’s future pretty much since the day they met. They both want to start a family, but Jennie insists that they enjoy their honeymoon period first. And she’s determined to make tenure at the school where she teaches before taking time off to have kids. She wants to have it all, but at her own pace and on her own terms. Which means timing everything out so meticulously. So carefully. 

Gently, you brush a lock of hair from her wet cheek. “So… do you know how…” 

Jennie sighs. “Pretty sure it was the night of my bachelorette party. I came home and Yoongi asked how it went and um, I kinda couldn’t stop talking about my lap dance.” Your friend’s face flushes at the memory, and you bite back a grin. You’ll have to tell Jungkook he left a lasting impression. “And Yoongi… well, you know how he gets competitive sometimes?” 

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter. 

“Yoongi gave you a lap dance?!” 

“God, I wish I’d seen that,” Jisoo says from the other side of the closet door. “I’d love to know if he’s got moves.” 

In all your years of friendship, you’d never known Yoongi to do more than a simple side-shuffle whenever Jennie would drag him onto a dance floor. The thought of him performing an erotic lapdance is too much for even your overactive imagination to conceive.  

Jennie just smiles to herself. “Believe me, he does.” She glances at you shyly. “He’d kill me for telling you this but… you don’t think Jin choreographed his routine all by himself, do you?” she laughs, referring to the night Jin danced for you, and your brain breaks a little trying to picture Yoongi doing the same moves. 

The closet door flies open. 

“I’m gonna need to hear every last detail about that,” Lisa proclaims. 

“Same,” Rosé adds, and Jennie laughs for the first time since you arrived. She sits up, dabbing at her face with the sleeves of Yoongi’s hoodie. 

“Ugh, my face is going to be so puffy tomorrow.” 

“No, it won’t. We’ll take care of you,” Jisoo promises, already on her feet. “I’ll go raid your kitchen for supplies. Do you have any cucumbers?” She’s gone before Jennie can answer, Lisa scrambling behind her.

“Anyway… we always use protection, but you know how they say it’s not 100% foolproof? Yeah, turns out they’re telling the truth.” She stares at her sweater paws, suddenly forlorn again, and you give her a tight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, babe. I know this is… a lot.” 

“Yeah. And I just…” You don’t say anything, just wait patiently until she finds the words she’s searching for. “I just feel like a failure. You know? Like, it’s so stupid, but…” She shrugs. “I feel like everything’s ruined now.” 

“Oh, Jennie, no!” Wrapping both arms around her, you sigh. “Accidents happen. That’s life! You can make all the plans you want but you can’t control everything. There’s chaos everywhere! And even if you do your best to avoid it, sometimes it gets through. And it’s not always bad! I mean… look at me and Jungkook. He came out of nowhere. I didn’t plan to start dating him and Jin at the same time. I didn’t know it was gonna get serious. I thought…” you trail off, realizing you’re making it about yourself. “Sorry, this is not about me.” 

“No, it’s ok, finish your thought. Tangents and diversions are good right now,” Jennie informs you.

You bite your lip, weighing your words. “Back when Jin and I met, when you introduced us, I just thought… this is it. This is my chance to have what Jennie and Yoongi have. Something real. Something safe and steady.” 

Jennie nods, encouraging you to continue. 

“And then Jungkook… he’d always been so close but I’d never gotten to know him. He came in and opened my eyes to another possibility. To something exciting and different and - and passionate, and, oh god, I sound like a shitty romance novel, don’t I?” Burying your face in your hands, you laugh. 

“No, go on!!” Rosé says. 

“I’m just trying to say - plans don’t always work out. But that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. And sometimes, the unexpected can be exactly what you want. Or need.” 

Jennie sighs, and you can feel her relaxing against you for the first time since you sat down beside her. 

“I hear what you’re saying. And I’d like to believe that. It’s just… really difficult for me to accept that I’m not always in control.” 

“That’s a fucking mood,” Jisoo says, returning from the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. Lisa carries a bowl of some sort of cucumber concoction, and the two of them settle on the floor outside the closet. 

Rosé scoots across the carpet until she’s close enough to take one of Jennie’s hands. “Back to your chaos, if that’s what we’re calling it. Is it too soon to ask you what you’re gonna do?” 

Jennie groans, pulling the oversized hood over her head. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” 

“I just want to get through the wedding,” Jennie states, voice muffled by the soft fabric. “I’m getting married tomorrow! And I don’t want anything to - to ruin it. Or make things weird, or more stressful than they already are. I mean, fuck, I think my halmeoni is already upset that we’re not doing a traditional wedding. Imagine if she finds out I got knocked up before marriage!” 

“Okay, then we’ll make sure no one finds out tomorrow.” Lisa glances at everyone and you all nod in a wordless pact. “We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your day is as perfect as you’ve planned. You know we will!” 

“Does Yoongi know?”

Jennie peels her hood back to look at you. She shakes her head. 

“I took the test this morning, after he left for work. I’ve been so busy lately that I didn’t even realize I was late until today! Ji was the first person to find out when she showed up, and then she called the rest of you.” She pauses, fiddling with her sleeves again. “I think I’m going to wait to tell him until after the wedding. We’ll need to have a serious talk, and there’s too much going on right now.” She glances up. “Is that - do you think that’s okay?” 

Once again, she seems lost. This time, when you go in for a hug, Rosé joins you. 

“Babe, you can tell him whenever you’re ready! It’s your body.” 

“Yeah, but we’re in this together…”

“And you’ll be in it together still, no matter if you tell him today or tomorrow or next week.” Jisoo declares. She holds the mug out to Jennie. “And we’ll be here too.” 

“Yes. Maybe this is good chaos. Maybe it’s bad. It’s up to you to decide how to react - how to move forward. Whatever you decide, you know we’ll be by your side the whole time,” you declare, your sentiments echoed by the other girls. 

Jennie blows lightly on the steaming drink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys,” she says, choking up slightly, and everyone else starts talking at once. 

“You deserve the world!” Rosé coos. 

Lisa shakes her head. “We’re the lucky ones, babe, having you in our lives!”

“How’m I gonna depuff your face if you keep crying?” Jisoo tuts. 

You just rise to your feet, laughing. “Come on. Ji said something about manicures earlier. Let us pamper you today, so you’re ready to knock Yoongi off his apparently very talented feet tomorrow.”

NOW

The officiant is only a few minutes late, and the ceremony goes off without a single hitch. You and the other bridesmaids join the groomsmen flanking Yoongi at the altar. In addition to Jin, there’s Yoongi’s brother Geum-jae, and two of his friends from work, Yi-jeong and Woosung.

As a string quartet plays the wedding march, Jennie walks down the aisle, beaming more brightly than the sun, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face, bearing such an openly reverent expression that it makes your eyes flood with tears. The officiant begins his speech, and Jennie and Yoongi stare at one another as if the rest of the world has fallen away, with nothing left but the two of them and their love.

Watching them almost feels like you’re intruding on a private moment, so you turn your face to the rows of guests, searching without thought for Jungkook, smiling when you find him already gazing your way. Your chest nearly buzzes as warmth spreads there, matching the glow in his eyes. 

Because Jennie and Yoongi chose to take photos before the ceremony, there’s no cocktail hour after the ceremony. Instead, everyone is seated for dinner. The happy couple sits at a table for two on a small dais in the front of the room. 

There are no tables large enough for the entire wedding party. There are also no seating arrangements for all of you, either. Jennie had worked very hard on the seating chart for all of the guests except the wedding party. (“You guys figure it out. I’m tired.”) So you quickly claim a seat at one of the two empty tables left open, with Jungkook taking the spot next to you on one side and Jisoo the other, with Rosé next to her. 

As the wait staff brings out the first course, you slide your chair a little closer to Jungkook. “Hey. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that Jin would be here.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Jagi, it’s ok.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure it is,” you reply. “That was not the way I wanted to introduce the two of you. It was, uh, not ideal.” 

Jungkook’s silent as he sips his water. He works his bottom lip between his teeth again, and you wish you could see inside his head, could get some sense of what he’s thinking, because sitting here waiting for him to say something makes your stomach churn a bit.  

Finally, he sighs, reclining back in his seat as he looks at you. “I’m sorry if I made that uncomfortable. I wasn’t expecting to see him.” 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mention he was part of the wedding. Truly, it slipped my mind.” Repeatedly. You bite your lip, struggling to figure out what to say. This doesn’t have to be a thing, but you also don’t want them at each other’s throats all night. “But there’s no reason it has to be weird or ruin the night. Because I’m here with you, Kookie. Not him.” 

Your pulse begins to pound. It’s like you’ve just laid your heart on the line. Jungkook’s furrowed brows relax, doe eyes blinking slowly as he absorbs your words. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You turn to find Jin standing with a hand on the empty chair across from you. 

Jisoo lets out a tiny “Yessss, game on,” and you covertly kick her under the table. 

“Uh, I think Lisa is going to -” Glancing around, you don’t finish your sentence as you spy your friend sitting with the groomsmen. Oh, right. Lisa has her eye on Yi-jeong, having basically all but explicitly called dibs that morning when she saw him in his tuxedo. You can’t really blame her. “Nevermind.” 

“Please, join us,” Jungkook offers, gesturing to the table. He says it so kindly that you can’t help but gawk at him in surprise. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his palm rests on your thigh, rubbing lightly. Reassuringly. 

Your heartbeat returns to normal as Jin smiles. “Thanks.” 

Despite the ceremony being so modern, Jennie and Yoongi opted for more traditional dishes for dinner. For several minutes, there’s mostly an easy silence over the table, as everyone enjoys the janchi guksu and banchan in front of them, only the noise of clinking utensils filling the air. Well, that and the sound of the servers running back and forth to the bar, trying to keep up with drink orders. 

Jisoo, as usual, is the first one to break the silence.

“Okay, Jin, professional opinion on the guksu?” 

Jin chews thoughtfully for a few minutes. “I think they went a little heavy on the spicy soy sauce in the broth, but the noodles are just as tender as the ones I make. Oh, but you’ve had my noodles, YN, what do you think? Do they compare?” 

All eyes focus on you, including Jungkook’s. You swallow quickly. “Um, I think these are just as good! And I really like the broth, to be honest.” 

“You do like it spicy,” Jungkook murmurs under his breath, quiet enough that only you can hear him, and when you glance over, you’re met with that teasing smirk of his. It’s back again. For some reason, that’s more comforting to you than Jungkook’s hand on your thigh. Your heart does a somersault. It’s getting a real workout tonight. 

“You know, I never really thought about it, but it must be hard for you to eat in public. People are probably always asking you for your opinions on their food, or tips on how to make it better,” Rosé says. 

Jin shrugs. “Comes with the territory, I guess. I’m not gonna complain if people value what I think - and I’m always happy to help anyone improve their skills.” He swirls his wine glass before taking a sip. “But I suppose there can be a downside, too. Sometimes I just want to enjoy a meal without being asked to provide a full critique.” 

“I can understand that,” Jungkook replies. Again the other heads at the table swivel. 

“You can?” 

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. Like, right now, I bet you’re all expecting me to be the first on the dance floor, right?” He laughs as everyone suddenly becomes very interested in their meals. “It’s okay. That’s how it is whenever I’m out with friends. I can’t just sit at the bar and have a drink. And I definitely can’t just sway with the crowd. Everyone expects me to show off.” 

“I mean, I’m definitely hoping to see you turn up,” Rosé confirms, and Jungkook laughs again, gesturing at his point being proven. 

“Sure, that sounds annoying. But outside of going out with your friends, how often are you in a situation where you’re asked to dance? People stop me everywhere. When I’m out shopping. When I’m on a plane. I even once had someone ask me for deglazing tips while I was at a funeral! It’s not quite the same as being asked to do the robot at the club.” Jin shakes his head dismissively. 

Rosé mumbles, “I thought you weren’t gonna complain…?”

The two men eye each other for a few seconds as you hold your breath. Then Jungkook huffs out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not the same. That sucks, dude.” 

You exhale, settling back in your seat. 

Jin just hums, eyes darting back and forth between you and Jungkook before he speaks. “I suppose it’s just a small price to pay for being so successful.” He tips his wine glass back, emptying it. “Where are the servers hiding? I need a refill.” 

“See, this is one of the benefits of being a financial analyst - absolutely no one wants to talk to me about what I do,” you grin. 

“That’s because no one understands what you do,” Jisoo declares. 

“She’s right.” 

“Thanks, Rosé.” 

Jisoo points her spoon at Jungkook. “Okay, but real talk, you are going to dance tonight, aren’t you? You wouldn’t deny us a show!”

“Ji, we just had an entire conversation about this!” you groan, throwing your hands up. “Can you not?”

“What? I’m just saying! The man is a born performer. Right?” 

She looks at Jungkook, who nearly chokes on his wine in his haste to answer.

“Uh. Yes?” 

“Right. So there’s no way you’ll leave us disappointed.”  

“Let me get this straight - if Jungkook doesn’t dance for you, you’ll be disappointed?” you ask. “Hold on while I call Jimin and Taehyung real quick. Wait, sorry, I mean Min and Tae.” 

“All I know is suffering,” Jisoo sighs.

“Oh, relax, Kitty Cat,” Rosé giggles, nearly doubling over at the confused look on Jin’s face. 

As Jisoo loudly laments her choice of friends, Jungkook bends towards you, mouth brushing your ear. 

“Don’t worry, jagi, whether or not I dance here, you can still have a private performance later. I’d never deny you.”

Heat works its way through your body as you shift in your seat, squirming slightly from the low rumble of his voice and the promise laced within. There’s a sudden prickling at the nape of your neck, that nagging sensation of someone watching you, but when you follow the feeling and glance over at Jin, he’s staring at his empty wine glass. 

The tapping of a fork against stemware draws your attention to the married couple’s table. To your immense relief, Yoongi and Jennie had decided to nix the best man and maid of honor toasts, opting to say a few words themselves. Normally, Jennie does all the talking for the pair, but to your surprise, Yoongi rises to his feet, and the room falls silent.

“Jennie and I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for coming. It means the world to us that you took the time out of your busy lives to celebrate with us.” He glances down at his bride, who smiles back, and Yoongi’s gummy grin gets bigger than you’ve ever seen it. “As you all know, Jennie and I have been together since our first year of college. We’ve been through so much together - college, grad school, finding jobs, losing jobs, moving from apartment to apartment - but we weathered it all, because we always had each other.” 

Jennie’s cheeks are wet as she smiles at her husband. Yoongi takes her hand. 

“Jennie, I don’t know what life has to throw at us yet, but I want you to know that I’m never worried, as long as I have you by my side.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and there’s a chorus of awwww’s from the guests, including yourself. Jisoo rolls her eyes, but they’re already spilling over with tears, and you poke her in the side as she laughs.  

“Here’s to you, my love. And to all of you with us here tonight. We can’t thank you enough for your love and support. Geonbae!” He raises his glass.

“Cheers!” his brother shouts, and the cry is echoed around the room as everyone raises their glasses to the couple. 

Just when you think you couldn’t be happier, once again you feel a hand slip into yours, pressing palm to palm, fingers threading through. Jungkook doesn’t say a word, too busy clinking his drink against everyone else’s, but his hand tightens around yours when you look at him, and you feel as though you could float right through the ceiling if it weren’t for his strong grip. 

To think that you nearly hadn’t asked him to come here with you. What a mistake that would’ve been. Thank god you’d ignored the constant fear and doubt in your head and listened only to the steady sureness of your heart. 

You’re getting better at it.

YESTERDAY

After you coax her out of the closet, you and your friends turn Jennie’s apartment into a mini spa, trying to help the bride-to-be relax. By mid-afternoon, as everyone is giving each other manicures, you realize that the window on your day with Jungkook is swiftly closing, so you text him to let him know you won’t be coming home any time soon. 

Not long after that, the door to Jennie’s apartment opens, and Yoongi walks in, trailed by Jin. 

Jennie greets her fiancé happily, hugging him with her hands held straight out so as not to smudge her pretty new pink tips. “You’re home early!”

“Couldn’t focus. Decided to call it a day.” As ever, Yoongi seems completely unfazed to see you and your friends at his apartment. Sometimes you wonder what it would take to ruffle him. Probably something extreme like the zombie apocalypse. “Figured I’d grab my stuff and then get some dinner with Jin.” 

Although they weren’t holding to every tradition, Jennie had insisted that they spend the night before the wedding apart. So Yoongi would be crashing at Jin’s tonight. 

Jin nods at the sound of his name. “By ‘get some dinner’, he means ‘take advantage of his friend’s restaurant and score a free meal.’” 

“As if you weren’t the one who offered,” Yoongi drawls, ignoring Jin’s squeaky chuckling.

“Sounds good, baby,” Jennie smiles as Yoongi presses a kiss to her cheek before he shuffles down the hallway towards their bedroom. “Do you guys wanna get some takeout?” 

While Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie argue about what they feel like eating, Jin catches your eye. “Hey, you got a second?” He jerks his head towards Jennie’s kitchen. Rising from the couch, you follow, closing the door behind you. 

“What’s u-oh!” Your question becomes an exclamation when Jin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, long arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you tight. 

“Just wanted to get you alone,” he says, nose brushing yours as he smiles. “Hi.” 

This is where the butterflies should come in. Standing this close to this incredible specimen of a man, this paragon of perfection, would normally send them flittering through you. Shivers should be running down your spine. Any number of excited reactions should be happening right now. 

Right. 

Now. 

Except… they’re not. 

“Hi,” you echo, grinning a bit weakly. Jin doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with your smile, locking his hands behind your back. 

“I heard you got some good news today.” 

Your eyes widen as your stomach goes into freefall. 

“You know?” 

How? How on earth could he know about Jennie being pregnant?? Shit, did Lisa leave the pee stick out somewhere? Jisoo told her to put it -

“Of course I know! It’s my show.” 

“It’s your show?” What the fuck does that mean??

Jin honks in delighted laughter at your obvious confusion. “The interview Wendy emailed you about - that’s for my show! The one Nosh picked up?” 

The room tilts as gravity returns your stomach to normal. “Oh! Oh, wow!” Of course. The new project Wendy had referenced - it was Jin’s cooking show! “Wait, so we might be working together?” 

“Yes! Er, maybe! I don’t know how closely or whatever, but basically, the Nosh execs told me Wendy’s firm is responsible for budgeting and figuring out revenue streams and - and that’s really all I remember, sorry.” He laughs. “Most of what they said went straight over my head, to be honest. But I spoke to her on a conference call today and she told me they had an open position for the team that’s assigned to my show, and she’d asked you to interview.” 

“Wow, that’s really…” you trail off, lost in thought. “Isn’t it… the other night at the networking reception, weren’t you saying it might be a travel show?” You have a vague memory of Jin telling you what he wanted to do with his show if it got picked up by a network.

“That’s right. I pitched it as an exploration of local delicacies that often get overlooked by tourists. I’ll be going around the country, visiting tiny, off the beaten path restaurants and bars, and learning how to make their favorite dishes.” 

Traveling for work. That was one of the perks Wendy had rattled off when she’d given you the sales pitch for her company. So, if you got this job, did that mean you’d be traveling with Jin? 

Your mind is already wandering, thinking about what this new job might entail, when Jin brings a hand up to cup your face. His thumb traces your jawline. 

“Wouldn’t it be amazing? You and I, on the road together. Me, discovering new meals to cook for you…” His voice drops, a low murmur meant only for you to hear. “Maybe picking up some new dance moves to show off…” 

He rolls his hips slightly, jostling you right out of your tumultuous thoughts. 

“Doesn’t that sound good?” 

“It does,” you reply, mouth moving on autopilot, not waiting for your head to decide if it agrees. 

“I know I haven’t had the time to take you out properly, and I’m sorry for that. But this is my chance to show you that I’m still in this.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I like you. And I’m hoping it’s not too late for me to say that.” 

If this were a romantic movie, the music would swell now, strings soaring as he tips your mouth towards his. It’s a perfect moment, lush lips caressing yours, sweet and unhurried, lingering like he doesn’t care if anyone else walks in. 

It’s a perfect moment, for sure. Just, not for you. 

“Jin,” you begin, stepping out of his embrace, “I need to tell you something.” 

A/N Pt. 2: To be continued!! (Sorry, the chapter was getting a bit long and this felt like a natural stopping point… what do we think so far??)

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© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[ilwonuu]

would you write for woosung? I need this man's hard thoughts so, so bad

of course i will omg sorry this is so late:( i saw the rose on tour last year,,,best concert of my life. they’re so pretty?? ok anyways im rambling i love the rose!!! i hope u enjoy<3

pairing- established relationship, dom!woosung x sub!reader

warnings- mentions of sex,, mdni!! lmk what else???

a/n- this is so late oh my god,,, im so sorry anon!!! i had this sitting in my drafts but it’s finally getting posted!!!

woosung who would love to tease you while you’re out. he loves to grab your thigh and touch you and ways he knew would make you needy.

woosung who loves to make out with you. he’s actually addicted to your lips. he will take any opportunity to kiss you.

woosung who loves when you ride him. he loves the way you fall apart on top of him. he loves that he can see your chest. he loves being so intimate with you. its 100% his favorite.

woosung who loves to have you on your knees for him. he loves the way you look up at him through your eyelashes. “use that pretty mouth?”

woosung who loves to have morning sex with you. waking up to feeling the warmth of you is his favorite. he is will never get enough of having you under him.

woosung who loves when you try to dom him. he let’s you have your fun for a little. but he won’t let you fully dom him. he loves to the let you dom him and immediately switch it on you. you always ending up under him.

woosung who loves to smack your ass when you pass. he loves how flustered you get. him sliding in a flirty remark. “what? how can i resist an ass like that?” you always rolling your eyes at him.

woosung who is so in love with worshipping you during sex. whispering praises and compliments when you’re under him.

[xdjville]

ilysb

pairing: doyoung x gn!reader

genre: romance, established relationship

cw: none

word count: 448

author's note: directly inspired by this cover by woosung from the rose, i just love it so so much. if you're able to, please listen to the song before/while reading, i promise it will get you in the mood

"mad cool in all my clothes,

mad warm when you get close to me.

slow dance these summer nights,

our disco ball's my kitchen light."

you looked ethereal. your eyes closed as you swayed to the slow rythm of the music playing from your phone's speakers, arms wrapped loosely around doyoung's neck. the ceiling lights were dimmed, only so bright to let him recognise the faint crimson color staining your cheeks and the rouge shade of your lipgloss that he had already partially wiped off with his own lips, but vague enough to let the moon's midnight glow caress both of your faces.

doyoung was far from romantic. before he met you, he had never wished of a fairy tale love story - he would always say that he had better, more important things on his mind, that there was never a person he wanted anything of an affair with, and why would he even need one, anyways. that was, untill you barged into his life, uninvited and without asking for permission, and turned it around completely.

because now there was someone else in his word, and it used to absolutely terrify him. he couldn't understand why he never seemed to be able to get you out of his head, how his favorite restaurant turned into your favorite restaurant, how his days off turned into "i wonder if they're free tomorrow", how the playlists with his most beloved songs had been tucked away and untouched for weeks, because he only listened to the ones made by you to try and soothe the never-ending yearning. suddenly he loathed solitude, because every second of the alone time he used to cherish so much was spent counting down to the next time you'd see each other.

it scared him, so much that he had spent several restless nights wondering if he should just run away (altough he'd never told you that). yet the thought of being away from you was physically unbearable - it felt empty and grim, as if someone had stolen a critical part of him, and nothing, and believe when he says he had tried it all, could fill the void.

but with time and your guidance, he gradually came to terms with this overwhelming feeling, slowly learning how to love and be loved. and doyoung loved you in the most pure meaning of this word, genuinely and deeply. even though there were still moments when he didn't know how to cope with the butterlies and stomach turns and burning face and heart beating out of his chest, he found peace in all of those, because it meant you were there.

and as you moved slowly between the counters of the kitchen, he thought about the journey that got him to this moment, and all the years to come that he wished he would spend by your side.

"oh, my heart hurts so good,

i love you babe,

so bad, so bad."

#taglist ➼♡ @bambisnc

©xdjville

[mangowillow]

last to know | m.list

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst (who am i without it), hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

author's note: hi!! hello!! remember me? remember this? i am here to deliver. there is no set schedule for new chapters because, in this house, we thrive on unpredictability! the past few months were crazy: i took a national exam, passed it, and then i needed a month to recover from all that jazz. gosh, i missed you all! hop on this train wreck and let's journey through this new fic together ksksks

if you don't know who Kim Woosung is, he is the lead vocalist and electric guitarist for the Korean rock band, The Rose. go check them out! their songs are so heartfelt and great. yes, he will get quite a significant amount of airtime in this fic, but i promise, this is and will be a jk x (f) reader end-game kind of story.

tags for interested readers will be open! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference! ok now we're done with that, let's go!

chapters

⋆｡°✩ chapter 1: haunted dreams (3.9k)

⋆｡°✩ chapter 2: as always, even now (5.9k)

⋆｡°✩ chapter 3: coming soon!

drabbles

coming soon!

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody does love | MYG - They Meet

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where the two meet for the first time. Part 2 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 3k+

Warnings - lil swearing, SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH! nothing else I can think of

Ratings - 13+

A/N - Apologies for the late update. But do let me know in the comments what you think of the chapter and what direction you want to see the narrative flow in. Also, this is not proofed, please excuse typos, tense, and grammar errors. And if you liked it, please please please engage with the post. Comment, like, repost. Your engagement is the sole reason I am pushed to write. 

Your flight landed with a two-hour delay at 5 pm at the Incheon airport. After collecting your baggage and going through customs, you shot a text to your friend and waited near one of the cafes inside the airport for the crowd to die down. In about 10 minutes you lugged your bags behind you, pulling your mask further up your nose and pulling the bucket hat to right above your eyes. 

It didn’t take long to spot Sammy. Dressed in all black, he had a casual gait that only he could have. It also helped that he carried a little cat poster. You could see his eyes crinkle with a smile as he saw you walking out, which mirrored your own.

“Oh it’s so good to finally have you here!” he said while hugging and slightly managing to lift you off the ground.

“I know. But I am so hungry and nervous and I have such a bad headache,” you mumbled into his jacket shoulder.

“Let’s get you washed, fed and rested. Come on,” he chuckled patted your back and took one of your bags before starting walking towards his car. Ah! His car. A black 2022 Maserati Ghibli Modena. One that he has been yapping about for months on end. 

You honestly found it ridiculous. The inordinate amount of money people would pay to procure “luxury” items always confounded you. Sure, wealth commands a certain amount of comfort- Your brain stopped as soon as you sat down on the passenger’s seat of the car. Your ass was far more comfortable than it has ever been on any bed or couch that you have ever owned. Maybe you can allow yourself to see why someone would spend hundreds and thousands of dollars on a car. 

Sammy closed the back of the car, with all your bags safely tucked in, and walked over to the driver’s seat. He saw you leaning back onto the seat with your eyes closed. He smirked behind the mask and sat down, swiftly starting the car.

“Still think this was an unnecessary splurge?” his mask had come off and he had that wide eye-crinkling smile.

“Maybe not,” you smiled to yourself. “How far is your place from here?”

“About an hour, with the school and office traffic now, some more.”

“My dead body will enter your residence, Kim Woosung,” you groaned and pulled at the seatbelt in annoyance. Both your mask and hat were now on your lap. Your head felt like the persistent beating of 500 drums all at once.

“Try to take a nap, I will play your sleep playlist,” he suggested. 

You could not move another muscle to bother with a response. His reply was like a command. With your eyes shut, you shifted your shoulders to place your neck relatively comfortably. The last thing you remember is the comforting, low hum of white noise filling up the space around you.

_______________________

You walked out of the SNU campus, your colleague and friend Samairah in tow. She is the reason you are in Seoul in the first place. You met at an academic conference in Edinburgh when you were still PhD researchers. Dr Samairah Nazli is now a full-time professor of Gender Studies at the prestigious Seoul National University. 

“It is just a contract for the coming academic year, Y/N! Come on! You will also get to spend time with Sammy.” You had scoffed back at your friend over the video call last November when she said her department wanted to invite you as a Visiting Professor for their newly-introduced Feminist Economics course and the existing Gender and Media course that a now-retired professor used to handle. 

But a week later when you found yourself in a virtual meeting with the Dean, Department Head and the Vice Chancellor, the opportunity did seem intriguing. They did want to eventually offer you a full-time position. You would be tenured at 32! Also, you can work with Samairah again, after working on your first book together, you knew you would work together again. 

And of course, you get to spend time with Sammy. One of your best friends. Kim Woosung of The Rose. But only Sammy to you. Crazy to think that you only met him about three years ago, at Friar Park of all places on the planet, but lord, did you love that dude to bits.

“Wanna grab a drink?” Samairah asks, as you both head towards the subway station.

“No, meeting the broker again.”

“This will be the 8th place she’s showing you?”

You shook your head as you dug in your pockets for the cigarette case. “No. Ninth.”

You lit a cigarette and said, “I really want to finalise a place and settle down before the semester begins.”

“Tough to do all that in what- 12 days now?” she counted the days mentally and grabbed the smoke you held out for her to counter.

“I wish I were a millionaire at times like these,” you took back the smoke and gave it a long drag as you stopped at the crossing. Samairah would go straight from here to catch her train and you will take a left and meet Hwang Seul-gi. Your realtor. Broker. Currently, the most important person in your life.

You could have opted to stay at the Siheung-Si staff residence for part-time and visiting faculties, but that would mean you would spend half the day in transit. And you hated transit. Motion made you sick. So yes, car trips with you are absolute joyrides for your friends. 

You also wanted time to work on the manuscript of the next book you are planning. And you want enough time to sleep. God, you wish to have a carefree night of sleep soon. Not that Sammy’s guest room is bad, it is comfortable, and luxurious even when you consider the free cuddles from Woolfie, but it still is not a place of your own. 

Although Sammy argued the opposite back when you told him about your year-long relocation to Seoul. He wanted you to live as roommates. Even offered you to pay for house-sitting in mirth, for all the times he would be away on tour. 

Again, you loved the guy. But his social butterfly stages of self are something you could take in small doses. You knew what his schedule was like, how many people dropped by for work at his home studio, and even just because to share drinks. But a whole year of it would drive you mad. So Sammy finally gave up trying to convince you and connected you to Seul-gi.

The lovely Seul-gi who yet again showed you a wonderful place, reasonably near the campus. But the deposit itself would require you to sell both your kidneys, maybe an eye and even a good chunk of your liver.

It was almost 7:30 by the time you left the apartment complex and headed towards Sammy’s place. You could take a cab, but the crisp late February air made a nice weather for a walk. You were passing through a park, almost deserted at the time, when you heard a noise that alerted you.

It sounded like someone was struggling. Some animal. You could hear low grunts, probably a puppy or a kitten, but you looked around and saw nothing immediately. The noise continued so you stopped and tried to follow the direction of the sound. 

You reached a bush at the side of the pathway and were sure that this was the location. But the sun was already down. Dim yellow lights sparsely lit the park pathway, enough for people to look and walk, but not enough to see within the bushes. 

By the noise you could now tell that there was also a metal scraping noise, but barely so. You turned on your phone's flashlight but still saw nothing. You looked around but saw no one. Trying your best to not step on any of the plants, you entered the bush and squatted down with the flashlight.

“Hey, are you okay?” a low but heavy voice from above you startled you and the phone almost dropped from your grip as you stood up to see who it was. A man donning all black with a mask, a cap and a hoodie looked right back at you. Only his eyes were visible and the eyes were filled with concern. In the commotion of your entry into the bush and stomping around, ever so mildly within it had now increased the noise. 

It sounded like a distressed kitten. You looked back down and could see one of the drainage grills under the dense foliage of the bush. You looked back up at the stranger and said, “I think a kitten has fallen into the drain.”

Before the man could respond, you squatted back down again and saw the drain and beady little eyes inside it clearly this time. You put down your bag beside you on the ground and put all your effort into pulling the iron rungs up. You could feel it move a little, but not enough to dislodge it. 

“Hey baby, don’t worry. I will get you out of there,” you cooed through your laboured breath. By now, the stranger had joined you. You both exchanged glances and without saying a word you went in and pulled at the grille together at the same time. It seemed a lot easier with the two of you having pulled at it. With one arm, the stranger shifted the grille aside. 

You peered down the drain and extended your arm to grab the kitten. The poor being was scared and cold and probably even more traumatised by all the strange and sudden commotion. You leant down completely, with your stomach on the ground and lowered yourself into the opening up to your shoulders to grab the kitten with both your hands.

The man next to you extended a cautious arm as if to make sure you don’t fall in. Well, the opening was not big enough for you to fall into. But you could get weirdly stuck. But soon he saw your body lifting up and his extended hand hovered over your body, never touching, but ready to help if needed.

You came back up with a feisty calico kitten in your hands who initially made a few tiny scratches on your palm but was now just shivering. The man beside you promptly took off the work jacket he was wearing over his hoodie and handed it towards you. How many layers is he wearing? A small part of your mind wandered, but you quickly grabbed it from him, giving him a thankful smile and wrapped the kitten up in the jacket and held her close to your body, for maximum warmth.

You looked down at the ground near your feet where your bag was and before you could bend over to grab it, the man swooped in and said, “I got this.”

After you stepped out of the bush, you turned to the man again and said, bowing politely, “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem at all. I have two cats of my own, I know the fear of losing them” he said in a calm but understanding tone. You looked at his eyes more closely while he talked, you could have sworn you had met him before, but didn’t know where.

You shook your head and replied, “Oh no, this is not my cat.” And then you explained the noise you followed. The man nodded his head and looked around probably thinking the same thing that you were. “Do you think the mother is around here somewhere?” you asked.

“If she were, she wouldn’t be too far away.”

You looked back down at the kitten, who had stopped shivering now but was still covered in a considerable amount of mud and dirt. You also considered checking if she was chipped and if the person could be notified if she was already a pet. “Do you know of any vet nearby? I am new here, so-”

“Yes, it’s on my way. I will drop you,” he held his arm out to point in the general direction of where you were headed to go back to Sammy’s. You started walking and the man joined you. Out of the park, and having crossed two traffic signals and taken two right turns, you reached the vet’s chamber. It was reasonably empty. You put your name in the register and waited. 

The man sat in a chair next to you but one. He looked over to see you making conversation with the kitten. Of course, she won’t be able to say if she lost her mother or forgot her way home. But the sing-song voice you used clearly worked. He could see the large dark beady eyes of the kitten staring back at your face with wonder and trust.

He too looked at your face with wonder and felt a strange sense of trust and comfort. When he saw a person climb inside a bush at a more or less empty park on a random Thursday evening, he half expected it to be a madman. But when he peered in and saw the glow of a flashlight, he grew more curious. 

He noticed how a part of your right elbow was scraped slightly, not that you seemed to notice. He also saw the muddy bits on your beige outfit. And then looked again at the kitten wrapped in his jacket, on your lap.

“Y/N,” the receptionist called out. You stood up and turned towards the man and gave him a curt nod. He blinked several times before nodding back at your retreating figure and gulped down a deep breath. Did you catch him staring? Even if you did, you didn’t let it show. Y/N. Y/N. He repeated the name in his head a couple of times. 

It was only after the doctor examined the kitten and told you that she has no chips, and is healthy but is slightly malnourished, that you realised you have so far, that is almost in 30 to 40 minutes’ time, not once asked for the man's name - the stranger in black, now at pet clinic reception.

You just followed a stranger through a dimly lit park and ended up where you are now. When put that way, doesn’t sound like the safest thing to do.

The groomers had taken the kitten to another room to clean her up. The vet wrote up some supplements that the kitten could be given and asked you to wait outside. You walked out and saw the man, right where he was, hugging your bag on his lap, scrolling through his phone. Cap, mask and hoodie - still intact. You went up to him and sat in the seat next to him but one. 

“Thanks for looking after my bag,” you smiled. 

The man looked up at you and held the bag out, you could see the crinkles of his smile near his eyes. “Is she alright?” he asked.

You explained whatever the doctor said. 

“Are you going to keep her then?”

Your eyes widened comically and then it dawned on you. You don’t even have a place for yourself. Where the fuck are you gonna keep her? And if the mother was still around, she would likely not be malnourished, so it is not like you can hope to reunite her with her mom. 

Sammy would not mind, for now, you knew. But Woolfie? How would he react?

Seeing you stunned, the man chuckled, “You hadn’t really thought so far, had you?”

“Not really. My immediate instinct was to just release the kitten. But she’s so small and frail, I cannot possibly let her be anywhere else. But-”

Before you could say anything else, one of the groomers approached you, with the kitten now in a cosy, little carrier, all clean and dried. And he carried the jacket she was wrapped in, in the other hand. 

You thanked him and then turned to the man next to you and looked guiltily down at the jacket on your right hand. “I am sorry about this. I will get it dry-cleaned and return it to you. And also, I am sorry I didn’t catch your name till now. I am Y/N Y/L/N," you draped the jacket over your other forearm and extended your arm for a shake.

“HI Y/N, I am Min Yo-,” he choked on his words before he cleared his throat and said taking your hand and giving it a firm shake, “I am Min Yong-Ho.”

You smiled back and walked out of the vet clinic. “I go this way now,” you pointed towards the left. 

“Oh I go the opposite way,” you could see the hint of a smile but also maybe apprehension.

You had bought cat food worth a week, food bowls, a litter box, litter pellets and a small cat bed. You requested the store to deliver the items to Sammy’s address. In the meantime, you had texted the bare bones of your encounter to him. So he was ready to greet a kitten into his home by the time you went back and for the time being had locked his bedroom door, where Woolfie was fast asleep.

You nodded and asked the man, “So, Yong-ho, how do I return your jacket?”

The man looked around, eyes seeming frantic, almost like a deer caught in headlights. Until finally he pointed at a cafe on the opposite side of the road. “How about we meet at that cafe on Sunday evening?”

“Sure, I will bring back a spick and span jacket, I promise,” you said and asked, “6 PM sounds good?”

“6 PM sounds perfect,” the man nodded and waved back at you as you went your way - the kitten in the carrier in one hand, his jacket in the other and your bag, now draped as a sling across your body. He doesn’t know how long he stood there. But he kept staring your way for five seconds longer after your silhouette disappeared over the horizon.

Taglist: @majiiisstuff, @starlighttaek8, @yoongrace

[sleekervae]

Lost Between Those Walls Trees | Woosung x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1

A/N: It's been a year since I published my last Woosung piece, and considering how much I loved those two characters, I thought I'd give you a little sequel! Happy almost-Halloween!

Summary: A year ago, Woosung and Iseul, longtime best friends, were thrust into the frenzy of the blood moon, transforming their bond from friendship into something raw and powerful. Now, living together in a quiet apartment in downtown Seoul, they navigate the balance between their domestic life and the wild, untamed desire that still lingers between them. As the anniversary of their mating approaches, the tension between their human and wolf sides intensifies, drawing them back to the forest once again, reflecting on how far they’ve come since that fateful night.

Warnings: smut, public smut, almost getting caught, doing questionable things with trees, werewolf smut

⋆ WORD COUNT — 6.5k

The cool autumn air slipped through the cracked window of their downtown Seoul apartment, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something darker—something wild. Iseul sat curled on the couch, fingers wrapped around a warm tea mug, her eyes flicking lazily to the glowing skyline outside. The city thrummed with life, but there was a stillness in the air that made her skin prickle. The blood moon was rising in a few days, and with it came the familiar pull—something primal and ancient that neither she nor Woosung could ignore.

She felt it stirring beneath her skin, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she sipped her tea and settled deeper into the cushions, pretending not to notice Woosung as he paced near the window. He hadn’t stopped moving since he got out of the shower, his bare chest glistening faintly with droplets of water that hadn’t yet dried, his dark hair damp and tousled. There was an energy radiating off him, something restless and needy that he was trying—and failing—to keep in check.

“Are you going to sit there all night?” His voice was low, rough with frustration. He wasn’t asking about her plans. She knew what he really wanted. 

Iseul smirked into her mug, taking another slow sip. “What? You’re pacing like a caged animal,” she teased, her tone light, playful. “Nervous about something?”

Woosung’s eyes flashed, a hint of gold in the dim light, and he crossed the room in a few quick strides. “You know exactly what I’m nervous about.” His words came out as more of a growl than he intended, and he stood over her now, his presence like a shadow, all consuming.

Iseul finally looked up, meeting his gaze. “Oh, is that it?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence, the corners of her mouth curling into a subtle smile. “You’re always like this before the blood moon. Restless. Antsy. You should try to relax.” 

She watched him grit his teeth, his jaw tense as he stared down at her, eyes burning with barely concealed desire. His need was almost palpable, hanging in the air between them, but she wasn’t ready to give in—not yet.

“I’m not restless,” he muttered, though the lie was obvious in the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way his breathing had picked up, shallow and uneven. “I need you, Iseul.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if considering his words, but took another deliberate sip of her tea. “Hmm. You need me?” Her voice was teasing, light as if they were talking about something trivial. She leaned back against the cushions, looking utterly calm, completely unaffected. “That’s funny, I was just thinking of heading to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Woosung exhaled sharply, his frustration mounting. His patience was slipping, the full moon’s pull making it harder to keep his wolf at bay. He knelt in front of her, his knees pressing into the floor as he placed his hands on her thighs, leaning in close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes bored into hers, dark with hunger.

“Stop teasing,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You know I can never hold out on these nights.”

Iseul looked down at him, her hand gently grazing the side of his face, her thumb brushing his jawline in a touch that was soft, almost tender—almost. “Oh, but it’s so much fun to watch you like this,” she whispered, her lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. “You get soooo needy…”

His grip on her thighs tightened, his breath coming faster as she toyed with him. “Iseul…” he warned, his voice strained, a growl rumbling beneath his words. He was on the edge, and she knew it. 

But instead of pulling him closer, she pulled her hand away and stood up, walking past him like nothing had happened. “Maybe a walk will help,” she said, as if they hadn’t just been on the verge of something much more. “The fresh air could do you some good.”

Woosung’s eyes followed her every move, his body tense with barely restrained need. For a moment, he just knelt there, watching her in disbelief. She was torturing him, playing with him like a cat with a mouse, and the worst part was, he liked it. He liked the way she kept him on edge, liked the way she made him feel out of control, even when all he wanted was to take her, claim her.

He pushed himself to his feet, his heart pounding as he watched her grab her coat. “Fine. A walk,” he said, though they both knew it wouldn’t end there. It never did.

The streets of Seoul were quieter than usual, the cool night air biting against their skin as they made their way through the back alleys. Iseul walked ahead of him, her steps light and graceful, but Woosung could sense the tension in her too—the way her breath came just a little faster, the way her body seemed to hum with anticipation. The blood moon was close, and it was stirring something deep inside both of them.

The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the pavement, and Woosung couldn’t stop himself from staring at Iseul’s back, watching the way her body moved, the way the cool breeze tugged at her auburn hair. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to keep his control, but it was slipping fast. The primal urge to take her, to chase her down and claim her, was becoming unbearable.

Iseul glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re awfully quiet,” she remarked, her tone still playful. “Something on your mind?”

Woosung growled under his breath, his patience snapping. “You know exactly what’s on my mind.”

She smirked, turning to face him fully. “Do I? You’ve barely said a word all night.”

Woosung’s hands flexed at his sides, the wolf inside him stirring restlessly. “Stop playing games, Iseul.”

Her smile widened, and she took a slow step toward him, her movements deliberate, almost taunting. “Who says I’m playing?”

He reached for her then, grabbing her wrist, but his grip was gentle, despite the heat in his eyes. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding as he stared at her, waiting for her next move. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away—instead, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Do you want to run?” 

Woosung’s pulse quickened, his need for her mixing with the primal urge to chase, to hunt. His grip on her wrist loosened, and he let her go, stepping back as he felt the shift in the air between them. The game had begun.

Iseul’s eyes flashed with excitement, a challenge in her gaze as she took a step back, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Then catch me,” she breathed, before turning on her heel and darting into the shadows.

Woosung stood there for half a second, his chest rising and falling with deep, hungry breaths, before he bolted after her. The chase had begun, and this time, he wouldn’t let her go so easily.

The trees of Namsan Park blurred past him as Woosung chased after Iseul, his senses heightened by the thrill of the hunt. The moonlight bathed the park in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows that danced around them as they weaved through the dense foliage. His instincts guided him as he followed her trail, each footfall bringing him closer to her, to the woman who ignited a fire within him like no other.

Iseul was swift and elusive, her laughter ringing through the night as she led him deeper into the heart of the park. Woosung felt a surge of exhilaration coursing through his veins, the familiar hunger building in the pit of his stomach, driving him to chase after her with a single-minded determination. The world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them in a primal dance of pursuit and evasion.

Branches whipped at his face as he pushed himself harder, his muscles burning with exertion. He could hear Iseul’s lilting laughter just ahead, a siren’s call that spurred him on. His blood sang with the thrill of the chase, with the primal need to claim what was rightfully his. The night air was alive with electricity, every sense attuned to the seductive game they played.

As they reached a clearing bathed in the silvery light of the moon, Woosung finally caught a glimpse of Iseul’s form as she darted behind a cluster of ancient trees. A feral grin twisted his lips as he closed in, his movements fluid and purposeful. She was his prey, his equal, his mate.

Iseul emerged from her hiding spot, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire as she met his gaze. There was a fierce beauty to her in that moment, a wildness that mirrored his own untamed nature. Without a word, she turned and ran once more, her silhouette disappearing into the night.

Woosung followed without hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest, the chase igniting a fire within him that only she could quench. The forest around them seemed to come alive with their pursuit, shadows dancing in the moonlight as they weaved through the ancient trees.

The thrill of the hunt consumed him, his senses sharpened to a keen edge as he closed the distance between them. The scent of pine and earth mingled in the air, adding to the heady rush that surged through his veins.

And then, as if guided by some unseen force, Iseul stumbled over a gnarled root hidden in the undergrowth. Woosung seized the opportunity, closing the gap between them in a matter of heartbeats. With a primal growl, he lunged forward and tackled her to the cool forest floor, their bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs.

The impact sent a shockwave of electricity through them, igniting a raw, primal energy that crackled between their entwined forms. Iseul let out a gasp as she found herself pinned beneath Woosung, his intense gaze locking with hers in a potent mixture of desire and triumph.

A smirk played on Woosung's lips as he leaned in close, his breath hot against her skin. "Looks like I caught you," he murmured, his voice low and husky with a hint of satisfaction.

Iseul's eyes danced with a mix of challenge and something deeper, something unspoken that pulsed between them like an invisible thread pulling them closer. She brought her hands up to frame his face, the touch sending a shiver down his spine.

She muttered, "That doesn't count," as she tried to catch her breath, "I tripped!"

He retorted with a smirk, "Who cares?"

With a teasing edge to her voice, she whispered, "And what will you do now that you've caught me?" 

Without a word, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, a clash of heat and Woosung’s lips pressed against hers, hungrily devouring her mouth in a kiss that was both desperate and delicate. His tongue darted out, tasting her lips before slipping inside her mouth to explore, seeking out every hidden crevice. He groaned low in his throat as he felt her respond, their tongues tangling in a dance of passion.

Iseul wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as she arched into him. Her fingers raked through his hair, urging him on, while her other hand traveled down his back, tracing the lines of his spine. A soft moan escaped her throat as she gave into the heat between them, surrendering to the primal pull that drew them together.

Their bodies moved together in sync, igniting a fire that blazed through the forest clearing. The rustle of leaves and snapping twigs echoed around them as they lost themselves in the moment, their hearts beating in unison beneath the blood-red moonlight. Every sound seemed amplified by their need for each other, every movement heightened by the thrill of the chase.

As they broke apart for air, Woosung gazed down at Iseul with intense eyes filled with longing. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he pressed himself deeper into her body, aligning their hips. "You drive me crazy," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe before trailing soft kisses along her jawline.

She gasped at the sensation, arching her neck to give him better access as she ran her nails lightly up and down his back. "Mmm... that's my job." She laughed softly against his skin before pulling away slightly to look up at him once more with a playful gaze.

But their moment of intimacy was cut short by the piercing sound of a flashlight beaming through the trees, followed by the authoritative voice of a park guard. "Hey! What do you think you're doing in here? This park is closed!"

Woosung and Iseul scrambled to their feet, heartbeats racing as they exchanged panicked glances. With adrenaline pumping through their veins, they took off into the woods, weaving between the ancient trees as they searched for a place to hide. The sound of footsteps crunching through the undergrowth echoed behind them, the beam of the guard's flashlight cutting through the darkness like a predator searching for its prey.

As they darted deeper into the forest, the air around them grew thick with anxiety and the scent of damp earth. Iseul's breath came in short, desperate gasps, the chill of fear mingling with the heat of their earlier encounter. Woosung's eyes flashed warningly from side to side, his focus entirely on finding shelter that could protect them both from the guard's wrath.

The trees seemed to close in around them, their dark silhouettes looming like ominous protectors. As they pushed deeper into the dense foliage, the world around them seemed to change - the familiar chirps of nocturnal creatures gave way to an eerie silence that draped over the woods like a heavy shroud. The once-bright moonlight faded into obscurity, leaving them in a dim twilight that cast deep shadows and played tricks with their eyes.

Finally, Woosung slowed his pace, scanning the terrain for a place where they could take cover. His gaze settled on an old hollow tree, its gnarled branches reaching 

out like welcoming arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally. 

Iseul nodded, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. She clutched his hand tightly, her eyes wide with fear and adrenaline. "I'm... I'm okay," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as they crouched behind the ancient tree, “I don’t ever remember security at this time of night!”

“They probably increased it during the moon phases,” Woosung noted, tossing a playful glare her way, “In case some freaks come out to cause trouble.” 

Iseul stifled a nervous giggle at his jest, the tension of their situation momentarily forgotten in the comfort of their banter. “Well, they caught the two biggest freaks of all,” she teased, squeezing his hand before peering around the tree to check if they were being pursued.

Woosung's lips quirked into a half-smile at her words, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes despite the seriousness of their predicament. “Speak for yourself,” he replied with a mock scowl, “I was just trying to catch my dinner.”

Iseul laughed softly, the sound mixing with the rustle of leaves in the night air. “Oh, so I'm your dinner now?” she quipped, nudging him playfully. 

“Mmhm,” Woosung grinned back, his tone light but his gaze holding the same intensity as before, “My favorite meal,”

Her laughter bounced off the trees, adding to the haunting melody of the forest at night. Woosung couldn't help but smile, his canines visible in the dim light as his eyes drank in her features.

Iseul and Woosung quickly stuffed themselves into the hollow, their bodies pressed close together in the darkness. As their breathing slowly returned to normal, she looked up into his eyes, her heart still racing. "We should probably stay here for a while," she suggested.

Woosung nodded, his gaze flickering over the darkened foliage around them. "Agreed."

The ancient tree trunk seemed to envelop them, its rough bark scratchy against their skin. The smell of wet earth and moss filled their nostrils as they huddled close, trying to mask their warmth with the cold night air. Their hearts thumped wildly in sync, adrenaline still pulsing through their veins like a drumbeat.

He placed an arm around her gently, pulling her closer as he closed his eyes in relief. "This okay?" he asked softly against her curls.

Her hand slid up his chest before resting on his cheek and she turned to face him fully, their breaths mingling as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. "I’m more then okay," she whispered back with a faint smile that trembled on her lips.

He leaned forward and captured her mouth in another fiery tango that sent sparks flying down their spines. Their hearts pounded against each other's chests and the familiar scent of each other mingled in a heady aroma, driving them wild. Her fingers traced patterns on his back as he moaned into the kiss, hungry for more. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer still as she arched into him like a cat in heat.

Their tongues wrestled with each other, tasting and teasing until they were both panting for air. He pulled away slowly, his eyes studying hers as if looking for answers to unasked questions. "I could chase you forever," he whispered hoarsely, his breath ghosting over her neck.

She shivered not from the cold, but from the heat of his words and the promise they held. "And I would let you," she breathed back, her voice soft and husky with desire.

He grinned against her skin, feeling the rapid beat of her heart matching his own. "Would you let me win?" he asked playfully, nibbling lightly on her earlobe before whispering into it.

"Maybe sometimes," she whispered back, her voice barely audible over the sound of their pounding hearts.

He didn't waste any time; his lips trailed down her neck, savoring its graceful curves and the salty tang of her skin. Iseul let out a small moan as his mouth got closer to her pulse point, the very spot where he first marked her a year ago, and her body tingled with excitement. Woosung smiled against her skin, feeling the surge of power that came with desire.

His hands traveled south, tracing the outline of her hips through her jeans before slowly making their way back up again. Iseul trembled under his touch, her breath hitching in her throat as he played with the fabric of her shirt. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet at the same time, she was filled with an excitement she found only he could provide her.

Woosung's fingers finally reached the sensitive skin beneath her collarbone and she gasped at the sensation. His fingers traced circles over her chest through her thin shirt and he could feel her heartbeat pounding against his touch. He could also feel the rapid flutter of her heart against his chest, a testament to her desire for him. His eyes met hers and he saw the truth in her gaze - she wanted him, needed him, and he was more than happy to oblige.

With a soft growl, Woosung's hands grabbed the sides of her jeans and began to rub between her legs, the denim providing just enough friction to make her knees weak. Iseul moaned softly into his mouth, her body arching into his touch. He smiled against her lips, savoring the feel of her body responding to his touch.

"Iseul," he whispered hoarsely, struggling to keep his voice steady as he pushed against her jeans. "Do you want this? Do you want me?"

She moaned again, her eyes fluttering shut as she nodded against his mouth. "I always want you," she breathed, her voice thick with lust and longing.

Woosung's heart swelled with happiness at her confession, and he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. "Good," he said earnestly, his eyes searching for any hesitation or doubt in hers. Finding none, he leaned in and captured her lips once more, this time with a fierceness that left no room for uncertainty.

His hands moved with purpose, undoing the buttons on her jeans, revealing the smooth skin beneath. Iseul trembled as his fingers traced lower, teasing her body with a promise of pleasure to come. Her breath hitched, her moans muffled by Woosung's mouth as he moved against her, his body speaking the language of desire that words could not express.

As Woosung felt the warmth of Iseul's skin against his fingers, he knew that this was what he wanted more of. Woosung's fingers danced teasingly across Iseul's damp folds, eliciting a shuddering gasp from her lips. He traced slow circles around her swollen clit, savoring the way her body quivered beneath his touch. She writhed against him, desperate for more, her nails raking through his hair and down his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

He could feel the tension building in her, her muscles coiling like a spring as she arched her hips into his hand. Woosung pressed harder, rubbing his thumb in firm, steady strokes over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Iseul cried out, her fingernails digging into the rough bark of the tree behind her. Her back scraped against the jagged surface, but she barely noticed, lost in the waves of pleasure that washed over her.

Woosung's own desire was building, his cock straining against his pants as he watched Iseul come apart before him. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss as his fingers continued their relentless assault. She moaned into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his as her body shook with the force of her orgasm.

His warm breath tickled Iseul's ear as he whispered, "You have to be quiet, or the guard will hear us." His fingers continued their torturous teasing of her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

Iseul bit her lip to stifle a moan, her body writhing beneath him. She could feel the slick wetness between her thighs, her arousal building with each passing second.

Woosung's eyes darkened with desire as he watched her, his own breathing becoming more ragged. He leaned down to capture her mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth.

Iseul's hands roamed over his toned chest and abs, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch. She could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her thigh, and she ached for him to be inside her.

Woosung's fingers continued their relentless teasing, circling her clit with just the right amount of pressure. Iseul's hips bucked against his hand, her body begging for release.

With a low growl, Woosung slid two fingers inside of her, curling them upwards to hit her g-spot. Iseul's body shuddered with pleasure, and she let out a low moan that was quickly muffled by Woosung's mouth.

He continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, his thumb still working her clit. Iseul could feel the pressure building inside of her, her orgasm approaching rapidly.

With a final flick of his thumb, Woosung sent her over the edge. Iseul's body convulsed with pleasure, her muscles tightening around his fingers. She let out a muffled scream as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Woosung felt her climax finally subside and watched as Iseul's breathing returned to normal. He slowly withdrew his fingers from her, savoring the sight of her glistening wetness. He could feel his own desire threatening to explode at any moment, but he knew they needed to be careful.

“Was it good?” he asked.

Iseul nodded, her eyes heavy with lust and satisfaction. She tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse from her orgasm. Woosung wouldn’t take her silence for an answer.

With a mischievous grin, Woosung leaned in closer, his breath hot against Iseul’s ear. He wasn’t finished with her—not yet. Her body still trembled from the intensity of her climax, but Woosung wasn’t about to let her silence slip by without a response. She had nowhere to go, pinned between him and the rough bark of the tree.

"Was it good, Iseul ?" he asked again, his voice low and teasing. He watched her through half-lidded eyes, savoring the way she still struggled to catch her breath, her legs shaky, her eyes heavy with lust.

Iseul’s lips parted, but no words came out, only a shallow gasp as her chest heaved, still recovering from the aftermath of pleasure.

“Oh, no, no,” Woosung purred, his tone playful, though there was a dangerous edge to it. “I’m not letting you off that easy.”

Before she could react, his hands were on her again—but this time, they weren’t rough or teasing in the same way. His fingers skittered over her ribs, light and quick. Iseul’s eyes widened, and she squirmed, trapped between his solid body and the tree at her back. She tried to wriggle free, but it was no use—Woosung knew all her weak spots, and he had no intention of letting her escape.

“W-Woosung!” she gasped, laughter bubbling out of her involuntarily as his fingers found her most ticklish spots. “S-stop!”

But he didn’t stop—if anything, her pleas only encouraged him. His hands moved deftly, fingers dancing over her sides, under her arms, making her squirm and laugh uncontrollably.

“Answer me,” he growled, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Or I’ll keep going.”

Iseul bit her lip, trying to stifle the laughter that spilled out of her, but it was no use. Her body betrayed her, shaking with giggles as she wriggled helplessly beneath his touch. Woosung’s nearness, his scent, the warmth of his body, and the rough bark scraping against her wriggling body—it was all too much, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing even as she panted from her earlier release.

“W-Woosung, please!” she managed between breaths, her voice breathless with both laughter and lingering desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers never letting up. “Please what? You know how to make me stop.”

Her face flushed as the tickling finally overwhelmed her. She was completely at his mercy, her body twitching under his relentless touch. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of playful torture, she gasped, “Yes! It was good! It was amazing, okay?!”

Woosung’s hands stilled, resting lightly on her waist as he leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He stepped closer again, pressing her firmly against the tree, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cool night air.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with satisfaction.

Woosung’s hands stilled, resting lightly on her waist as he leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He stepped closer again, pressing her firmly against the tree, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cool night air.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with satisfaction. But even as Iseul tried to catch her breath, Woosung’s gaze darkened, filled with an insatiable hunger. His hands, rough with need, tugged at the hem of her shirt, and without hesitation, he ripped the fabric in half, exposing her bare skin to the night air.

The tearing sound echoed in the quiet woods, and Iseul gasped, her body instantly aware of the cool breeze against her heated skin. Woosung's eyes flashed with raw desire as he leaned down, pressing his mouth to the newly exposed flesh, trailing kisses from her collarbone to her shoulder, his hands roaming possessively over every inch of her.

Iseul shivered beneath his touch, trapped between him and the tree, her breath catching in her throat. There was no escape, no way to resist him—not that she wanted to.

Iseul’s laughter faded into soft, ragged breaths, her cheeks flushed, her heart racing. She tried to glare at him, but the look in her eyes was far more playful than angry.

“You’re a menace,” she whispered, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Woosung grinned down at her, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “You love it,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with a certain confidence. He pressed his forehead against hers, their breath mingling as the world around them seemed to still for just a moment.

It was the thrill of being caught that made it all the more exciting for him. He had always been drawn to the danger of getting caught doing something wrong, and this was no different. The fear of being discovered only heightened his arousal, making every touch, every caress, even more intense.

As Iseul caught her breath, Woosung took a step back and unzipped his jeans. His cock stood at attention. Iseul's eyes widened as she took in the sight, her heart racing once again. But this time, it wasn't with fear or embarrassment, but with a thrilling sense of excitement that coursed through her entire being.

Woosung's eyes locked onto hers, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he slowly stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, drawing out the anticipation between them. Iseul's breath hitched as she watched him, her body responding to the raw tension in the air. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, and it was like a lightning bolt straight to her core.

"Turn around," Woosung commanded softly, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. His eyes never left hers as he continued to stroke himself, coaxing himself closer and closer to release. Iseul's heart pounded in her chest as she took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her. She slowly turned around, her eyes never leaving his. Her curiosity about what came next was dwarfed by the anticipation coursing through her veins.

She could feel the rough bark against her skin, and the contrast between it and Woosung's body was almost too much to bear. He kept his eyes locked onto hers as he continued to stroke himself, his breath hitching slightly with each pass. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the night air, but it was almost drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears.

"Touch yourself," Woosung instructed, his voice barely above a whisper. His command sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, and Iseul's hand trembled slightly as she reached down to cup herself.

She felt the dampness of her thighs already, and as her fingers grazed her folds, she could feel the wetness seeping through. Her arousal was palpable, and the thought of being here with Woosung only fueled the fire within her.

Woosung's eyes never left hers as his hand sped up, his breath now coming in short gasps. "Rub yourself against the tree," he said, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own breaths.

Iseul's heart pounded in her chest as she followed his instructions. The rough bark of the tree felt contrasting to the slickness between her legs as she pressed herself against it, feeling the intensity build within her. Woosung's eyes bore into hers, as if he could see every single pulse of pleasure surging through her body.

"That's it," he whispered, his hand now a blur as he stroked himself frenziedly. "Just like that."

Iseul could feel the raw hunger in Woosung's eyes, and it only served to heighten her own desire. Her movements grew more urgent, her skin prickling with sensitivity as she rubbed herself against the tree. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, as if they were suspended in time, completely engrossed in this taboo act.

As Woosung's breaths grew more labored, he reached out and grabbed Iseul's wrist, pulling her hand away from her heated core. His thumb brushed against the wetness on her fingers, savoring the evidence of her arousal. "I want to be inside you," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you want that too?"

Iseul didn’t have to answer, the desire in her eyes was enough to speak volumes. Woosung took a step closer to her, his body pressing against hers, and she could feel the stiffness of his erection against her butt.

"I want you so much," she whispered back, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath catching in her throat as she felt his touch against her skin.

Woosung pushed Iseul harder against the bark, her clit scraping deliciously across the rough surface. She let out a soft moan, her head falling back against his shoulder as he continued to grind into her from behind. The sensation was overwhelming - raw, primal, and undeniably carnal.

"That's it," Woosung growled, his hands gripping onto Iseul's hips as he thrust into her. His heart pounded in his chest, matching the rhythm of their bodies, and he felt a wave of euphoria course through him as he felt Iseul's flesh against his own. The tree groaned softly beneath them, almost as if it were sharing in their pleasure.

Iseul's breaths came out in short gasps, each one lingering on the edge of a scream. Woosung's grip on her hips tightened, pulling her closer, as the frenzied rhythm of their bodies grew more urgent. The tree bark scraped against Iseul's clit with every thrust, each sensation heightening her arousal.

As they continued, Woosung's breathing grew ragged, and he felt the familiar tightness building within him. He knew it wouldn't be long before he reached the peak of his desire. Iseul's breaths became shallower and faster, matching his own, as if they were both racing towards the same climax.

"Iseul," Woosung breathed, almost in a trance-like state. "I can feel it."

Iseul didn't respond, her eyes screwed shut, but she could feel it too - the explosive energy that was barreling towards them like a freight train. She clenched her teeth, the tree bark grinding harder against her clit with each movement. The intensity was overwhelming, but the thought of sharing this moment with Woosung only made it more exhilarating.

Woosung's breaths were erratic now, his body tensing as he thrust deeper into Iseul. The rhythm of their bodies was like a wild drumbeat, driving them closer to the edge. The air crackled with electricity, and Iseul could feel her whole body trembling, unable to control her reactions to this forbidden act.

As it all crested and peaked, their bodies convulsed in unison, the flood of pleasure washing over them like a tidal wave. Woosung's breaths became ragged, his moans muffled against Iseul's shoulder. Her skin prickled with sensitivity and she trembled against him.

The tree, in response to their carnal frenzy, creaked and groaned beneath them, as if wanting to be a part of their ecstasy. The rough bark against their skin seemed to intensify the sensations they felt, wrapping them in a web of pleasure and passion.

As Woosung's climax hit, he thrust one last time, so deep inside Iseul that she could feel his heart beating in sync with her own. His release was explosive, and the sensation sent Iseul over the edge as well. She cried out in pleasure, her body shuddering uncontrollably.

For what seemed like an eternity, they remained entwined, catching their breaths and reveling in the afterglow of their shared climax. Their bodies trembled as they came down from the high, the sound of their ragged breathing and heartbeats filling the cool night air—a symphony of their passion and the bond they shared.

Woosung’s forehead rested against Iseul’s, their breaths mingling as the world around them stilled. Slowly, he withdrew from her, causing Iseul to gasp softly at the sudden emptiness. But the feeling of loss was fleeting, replaced by the warmth of the moment still lingering between them. She glanced down at their intertwined hands, still locked together, and smiled softly.

“A year,” Woosung murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was rough, tinged with satisfaction but also something deeper—something tender. “Can you believe it?”

Iseul smiled, her lips curling up in that knowing way she reserved just for him. “Since the blood moon,” she whispered, recalling the night everything had changed between them. “Since you claimed me.”

Woosung chuckled, his fingers tightening around hers. “Claimed you? You make it sound so easy.” His voice was warm, layered with affection. “You didn’t make it easy at all. I wasn’t even sure we’d make it past being… friends.”

Iseul’s smirk deepened as she leaned back against the tree, her body relaxing against his. “Best friends,” she corrected softly. “You were my best friend, Woosung. For years.”

They both fell silent, lost in the memory of that wild night under the blood moon—the night their bond shifted from friendship to something primal and unbreakable. Woosung had been hunting, Iseul running, their instincts warring with the feelings they had denied for so long. When he had finally claimed her, it wasn’t just as his mate, but as someone who had always been his closest companion.

“Looking back,” Woosung murmured, his voice thoughtful, “I think we were always headed for this. The blood moon didn’t change us—it just made us stop pretending.”

Iseul’s eyes softened as she nodded. “Yeah. I guess I just didn’t know how much I needed you until that night. You were my best friend, but you’ve become so much more.”

Woosung’s fingers traced the inside of her wrist, his touch gentle. “We’ve come a long way, huh? From that night to this one.”

Iseul leaned in closer, her smile deepening as she looked up at him. “We have,” she pressed her forehead against his chest, her heart swelling with the weight of it all. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered.

Woosung’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing lightly over her hand. “Neither would I. No matter what happens—blood moon or not—you’re mine. And I’m yours. And we’ll always have that.”

The primal pull of the blood moon had drawn them together that night a year ago, but what kept them together was far more than instinct. It was the years of friendship, the deep connection they’d built long before the night their wolves had claimed each other. They had always been meant for this—mates, best friends, partners for life.

As the cool night air wrapped around them and the distant hum of the city thrummed in the background, they stood together, still holding on tightly to one another. The blood moon may have sealed their bond, but their love had been there long before.

“Happy anniversary, Woosung,” Iseul whispered, her voice warm and full of affection.

Woosung smiled, his eyes shining down at her. “Happy anniversary, Iseul.”

They kissed again, soft and lingering, as the moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a silvery glow over their entwined forms. For them, this was more than just the marking of time—it was a reminder of how far they’d come, together.

[anyamaris]

About Me!

Welcome to my blog- You can refer to me as Anya! I write Ateez fanfics, and am starting to write for more! I'm slowly warming up to multiple others. I also like to know a group fairly well before I'll write them, so if I don't know them well enough, I likely won't attempt anything.

My ults are Yeosang, Jin and Baekhyun. I also bias Kang Daniel, Soobin, Hoseok, and many others from other groups. 🤍💜🤍

Thank you to @kwanisms for the gorgeous banner here and for my blog header, you're amazing, talented, ridiculously magnificent and I adore you!!!!

Minors please do not interact with this blog.

Here are my masterlists for the groups I've written so far:

Ateez Masterlist

Stray Kids Masterlist

Exo Masterlist

TXT Masterlist

Kang Daniel

BTS Masterlist

Networks: @ksmutsociety @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq @thebtswritersclub

I truly enjoy meeting and talking to other writers, as well as readers of all sorts of fandoms. Just because I don't write a group doesn't mean I don't enjoy reading, so feel free to talk to me about anyone or anything!

My current list of favorite groups/solo artists include (not extensive, I'm certain I'll add more or forget to put on here!):

Ateez

BTS

Exo

Stray Kids

Shinee

Kang Daniel

Woosung

Onewe

Oneus

TXT

Monsta X

The Boyz

Wavy

As I said, this list is not extensive, and there are groups I'm currently learning like Seventeen and NCT that I can't claim to be a true fan of just yet-though I'm certain I will eventually!

As I mentioned, I do write! I have not received many asks but just in case I do, here are things I will NOT write because I'm either not good at it or not very comfortable writing it for various reasons. I do know others who have plenty of experience and fics involving things I myself am uncomfortable writing so I'm happy to direct you to them in that case!

Will not write:

MxM (for now)

CP 🚫🚫

Anything involving urine or feces

Pegging

mommy!idol

Cheating on Idol

Idol cheating

Majority of parent fic types ie. Idol is a parent or reader is a parent

Idol reactions to stuff-I'm just not good at them, sorry!

This list is also not extensive, I just won't write things I'm not comfortable with for personal reasons. Outside of anything underage, I know others who will write some of these and will pass info along!

Feel free to send an ask or don't be afraid to dm me if you have any questions or just want to say hi! I am fairly chaotic and I am also very chatty, so you have been warned!

Reblogging and comments are sooo appreciated so please do leave them! I read them and my heart soars when I know someone is enjoying my work. It means more than you know!

Have a great day and look forward to chatting and seeing you all around!

[exouniverse]

Band’s Cut

Pairing: jaehyeong x gn reader

Genre: fluff, birthday fic

Warnings: none, but if any please tell me and I’ll add it.

Summary: The Rose members have seen the subtle sparks flying between Jaehyeong and his acting classmate, but their slow-burn romance only drives them to meddle further and play matchmaker. Will a chance for a confession finally arise at the surprise birthday party that they’ve planned?

Word count: 5.1K+

A/N: I haven’t seen much of The Rose fanfic around, so I hope this reaches as many Black Roses as it can. Also, I have come to accept that the birthday fics will no longer have a limit of words… they simply flow so easily each time that they become longer and longer. Perhaps some will be short, but that will depend on the premise. So, I hope you like this! Happy birthday Jaehyeong!

A little fun fact, “Band’s Cut” refers to the “Director’s Cut” version of a film, but in this case is the members version of how the romance happened (or more like how they “made it happen.”)

Banner template by @kithsune/@cafekitsune

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD

The members gathered around Woosung's laptop with coffee and water in hand, about to embark on hours of reviewing audition tapes after their casting director's preliminary cuts.

As Woosung hit play on the first file, they settled in for a video marathon. Dojoon diligently took notes on the potential candidates, carefully analyzing their skills and talents. Meanwhile, Hajoon closely observed the performance nuances, paying attention to the finer details.

The casting director did an excellent job selecting the finest dancers, evident from their clean lines and exceptional technique. The actors showcased remarkable skills in delivering emotions and portraying mannerisms. Some triple-threat performers showed great promise and made it onto the list. However, none of them had managed to captivate all the members with an overwhelming sense of fascination.

Jaehyeong doodled absently, almost lost in the poodle dog playing with a ball that he drew in the corner of his notes. It was the first word you spoke that made him look back up at the laptop, the words melting in his ears.

The members were deeply moved by every gesture and glance throughout your audition. Every minute of your performance left a lasting impact, and even after it was over, the essence of your talent lingered in their minds, preventing them from even moving on to the next audition tape.

"Y/N, was it? Really connects to the heart of the song," Hajoon remarked in awe. Murmurs of agreement echoed among the members, making it clear that, despite having some more entries left to review, Y/N must be considered for the lead. But little did they know this match-up held promise beyond just professional prospects.

The dialogue was almost turning into doodles on the pages. Jaehyeong was having a hard time deciphering his lines for the scene they were studying in his acting class.

He sighed, putting his script down. The line caught in an endless loop within his mind, making him feel dizzy. Suddenly, a voice brought him down to earth. "Need any help with your lines?" you offered.

Jaehyeong looked at you, contemplating and mirroring your kind smile. "This part," he said, and pointed at Captain Wentworth's line, "‘half agony, half hope'...what do you think it means?"

You grabbed the script from his hand to analyze the dialogue. "For Wentworth, I think it's the fear of getting rejected once again after what happened with them in the past, but he's still holding onto a little hope in his momentary jump of faith to confess his feelings to Anne. It's all of the excitement and uncertainty tangled up."

When you looked up at him, he somehow looked even more confused. His eyes were locked on yours as if looking for a deeper answer, so you said, "in a more general sense... it's just how complex and contradictory love is. Like when your emotions for another person change from friendship to love. The agony will be in the fear of your feelings not being returned, while the hope will be in the possibility that that love will be reciprocated."

As Jaehyeong assimilated your perspective on Wentworth's complex emotions, your explanation resonated with him on a deeper level. A clarity emerged through your guidance, breaking the haze around the lines that now reflected his own awakening feelings. Up until now, he had thought his admiration for you was only due to your artistic abilities, but now he could understand Wentworth's words towards Anne.

Words were hard to find, so he hoped his gaze spoke for him, and he offered a complimentary smile as a thank you for your thorough description that shaped his performance as well as his newfound emotions.

Dojoon walked with Jaehyeong towards the dressing rooms to get ready for the music video shoot. They were just chatting about the last TikTok they posted when Dojoon noticed Jaehyeong was a little distracted. Following his gaze, Dojoon spotted you entering the hall accompanied by a group of staff members.

Smirking knowingly, Dojoon was aware of Jaehyeong's fondness for you. He had seen it ever since the call-back auditions, when the selection process for the lead and the ensemble dancers began. Among the three actors being considered, it was evident that Jaehyeong had a stronger bias towards you compared to the rest of the members. His smile would widen every time your name was mentioned. When the decision was made to cast you as the lead in their music video, Jaehyeong passionately advocated for you, leaving the rest of the team exchanging meaningful glances.

Dojoon nudged Jaehyeong playfully. "Look who can't take his eyes off our new lead."

Jaehyeong looked back at Dojoon as he smiled nervously. "What? Was I that obvious?"

The members, as it was too obvious, had managed to get a confession out of him that day after the selection was made. He told them all about you and how much he admired your talent. He truly enjoyed working with you on the class assignments.

Dojoon chuckled and whispered, "only if anyone was paying close attention, like me."

Both of them entered their dressing room. It was just the two of them, so Dojoon dared to say, "you should tell Y/N, about how you feel." He stopped as he checked his wardrobe, making Jaehyeong linger on his words.

"No pressure though," he offered with a kind smile. Dojoon suspected that you also had feelings for their maknae. You had been smiling too wide and giggling so much around Jaehyeong after the call-back auditions. Even more so when you two got some time to catch up and Jaehyeong introduced you to the band.

Hajoon entered before Jaehyeong could say anything, his cheeky smile giving away his thoughts. "Jeff, Jeff!" Hajoon shouted.

"Know who is here?" Woosung whispered excitedly as he came in behind Hajoon.

Dojoon smiled at them knowingly. Jaehyeong seemed like a mouse caught in a trap; his sweat around his eyebrows was evident. "Hajoon and Woosung!" Dojoon replied to Woosung's question as he gave them a warning look.

Woosung looked back at their lovely maknae and nodded. Hajoon mouthed an "oh" in understanding, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment.

Jaehyeong was pensive throughout their glam session for the shooting. He appreciated Dojoon's encouragement; he really could've said something long ago, but the moment he found out about his feelings slipped away too quickly, and his hectic schedule distracted him too much. It also felt too weird to say it during class or now at the shooting of their music video since they haven't had much time out of those restricted spaces.

The whole crew planned to gather after everyone was ready for the first scenes to start off the shoot with the best energy. As soon as you saw Jaehyeong coming out of his dressing room, you approached to greet him, "Jaehyeong-ah! Thought I missed you, but it's nice to see you before we start."

Jaehyeong eased up into a bright smile when he saw you. "Y/N! I'm so glad to have you around for this music video; you're the best."

You could've missed it, but you caught a glimpse of the rest of the band rushing to get back inside their dressing room. You were a little confused but decided to ignore it and continue to chat with Jaehyeong. "You are great yourself. Wanna go to set together? Are you waiting for the members?"

Jaehyeong clearly heard Woosung's giggle and Hajoon whispering "go." He smiled at you, trying to contain his own laugh at his hyung's antics. "We can go together; they are too slow, too slow," he joked, scrunching his nose, and walked along with you as you two chuckled.

The members giggled silently once the two of you had left. Dojoon looked at his friends, already plotting something cheeky in his mind.

"Do you guys think he will say something today or tomorrow?" Dojoon asked them.

"I hope so! They're so cute and so into each other," Woosung expressed.

"Jaehyeong has been overthinking this too much; he must," Hajoon agreed. "However, he's always moving at the beat of his own drum, so perhaps he will take some more time."

"Okay, drummer cliché, don't turn the mood down," Dojoon joked. "But you're right..." he admitted.

Woosung nodded and shared, "I heard Jaehyeong say he wishes he could hang out with Y/N more. That they have barely seen each other outside of class."

They took a moment to consider a way to help their maknae, but their manager came looking for them as they were supposed to be at the set long ago.

The three of them arrived fashionably late, thankfully while some staff crew were still settling equipment for the scenes, so they were not noticed by everyone. Especially Jaehyeong and you, who were caught up in a seemingly smooth conversation as you laughed at whatever Jaehyeong was saying.

"Oh oh oh, look at Y/N's hand!" Dojoon emphasized as you placed your hand on Jaehyeong's while laughing with him.

"Jaehyeongie!" Woosung exclaimed.

"He probably doesn't need much of our help," Hajoon commented.

The music video shoot went incredibly well, with everything flowing smoothly. As the day came to a close, Woosung extended an invitation for the cast to join the band for some drinks. Everyone appreciated the opportunity to unwind and cherish the quality time spent together, further strengthening their bonds.

The following day of shooting unfolded much like the previous one, with Jaehyeong still hesitant to confess his feelings. The other members opted not to intervene too much, instead choosing to support Jaehyeong whenever possible. They offered advice and encouragement whenever they sensed the need. Jaehyeong's hyung cheering crew discreetly arranged situations for the two of them to spend more time together. Nevertheless, it seemed that Jaehyeong was taking his time quite slowly.

After the celebration with the entire crew, the members gathered to discuss their observations and analyze if there was anything else they could do to support Jaehyeong. They contemplated whether it was best to continue their efforts or step away completely, respecting Jaehyeong's pace.

"Guys, I think we've done enough," Hajoon remarked.

"Yeah, I think they're okay," Woosung echoed Hajoon's opinion.

Dojoon took a deep breath and dramatically set his coffee on the table. "No, they're not," he looked back at his friends and continued, "Jaehyeong said he wanted to spend more time out of work with Y/N. So far, everything has been about work—the music video, lunchtime, the after-work celebrations included. I don't think he's saying anything any time soon."

"Dojoon-ah, it's still not our place to meddle too much, though," Woosung pointed out.

"I know, I know..." he said, taking another sip of his coffee. "But, should we try one more thing?"

Woosung and Hajoon looked at him almost uninterested, only to entertain him a little bit more since it had been mostly him orchestrating the moments for Jaehyeong to confess his feelings. They wanted to help too; they had been excited to take part in the scheme, but seeing how Jaehyeong was taking his time made them think it was better to step away for a while. Contrary to Dojoon, who seemed even more committed to the cause, "one last try," Dojoon restated.

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing too crazy, please!" Hajoon stepped in, limiting Woosung's encouragement.

"Let's invite Y/N to Jaehyeong's surprise birthday party next week!" He exclaimed, "that would be completely out of work. We give Jaehyeong a week to try to make a move if he wants to, but we still secure another moment together for them no matter if they end up coming as a couple or singles ready to mingle...between them, I—"

"Okay, we got it!" Hajoon interrupted.

"That's genius!" Woosung regained his enthusiasm. "I'm in! One more nosy try won't hurt."

"I knew you were going to agree!" Dojoon looked back at Hajoon, "Joon-ah! C'mon, get in, please," he begged.

Hajoon rolled his eyes before he said, "alright, one more try."

The final day of shooting was with a reduced cast since it was mostly the band and the lead who were supposed to film. The perfect setting for a little surprise invitation to a surprise birthday party.

Woosung managed to grab a moment with Jaehyeong gone from your side; it seemed almost impossible with time to separate the both of you. He casually made conversation about the music video and how incredible it was to have found you for it. He needed to be fast, though, before Jaehyeong came and heard about what they had been planning for his birthday for a month already.

"What's best is that you were already familiarized with our band, especially Jaehyeong, at your acting classes," Woosung said.

"That helped a lot!" You exclaimed, smiling widely. "When I saw the casting call, I immediately thought of Jaehyeong and did my best to get it since working with him is super fun. He's a great friend, so I knew it was definitely going to be so easy to navigate."

"Right, you're super close. You've been glued to each other this whole time," he threw in a little tease, "but it's cool to see our maknae happy having friends around that share such cool creative drives between them," he smoothly added.

You nodded. Woosung caught a little shyness in your gesture, so he continued, "hey! Actually, it's awesome that we got to know you properly. Jaehyeong talks about you a lot, and we wanted to contact you for a little surprise we're throwing for him for his birthday."

"Oh, really? I was actually thinking of calling him and inviting him for some treat or something, but that is even better."

Woosung had to contain his excitement hearing you talk so enthusiastically, confirming even more how into each other the two of you were. He succeeded; Dojoon's plan was taking off steadily.

"Awesome! I'll tell Dojoon to send you all of the details."

“Hey, Y/N!”

"Hey, Y/N!" You heard Jaehyeong call you from inside the class.

It took you a second to realize he had been calling you, but as you turned around, a smile graced your lips. You watched as he maneuvered through the small crowd that had formed around your classmates near the entrance, causing you to giggle. After apologizing to Haeyoung, the class assistant, for accidentally bumping into her, he finally reached you.

"I thought I missed you," he blurted, a little out of breath. "So, I was thinking, do you wanna go grab a coffee?"

His smile was contagious. "Sure! Coffee would be nice," you agreed as enthusiastically as you could.

"It seems it might rain; we could go to your favorite just a couple of blocks away from here."

You simply nodded in response and followed him. Jaehyeong was undoubtedly the top highlight of acting classes. When you first saw him in that initial class, you couldn't help but feel a bit starstruck. However, he quickly showed how down-to-earth and kind he was, quickly erasing any notion of him being a celebrity from your mind. If you were to describe him in a single word, it would be "comfort." Whenever your best friend was absent from class, it was Jaehyeong that you would always gravitate towards, or sometimes the both of you if Hanna was also present.

"Are you in the mood for something sweeter today? Or just your regular Americano?" Jaehyeong asked once you entered the coffee shop.

"Oh, uh..." he caught you a little off guard. "Something sweeter sounds good today," you agreed.

"Find us a spot; I'll go and order," he suggested, anticipating your protest as he often did when he planned to pay for everything. "Please, just let me," he quickly interjected, flashing a genuine smile, hoping you would agree and allow him to treat you to coffee.

"Okay, but you will let me pay next time."

"Yeah, maybe," he joked, effortlessly bringing out a small laugh from you.

You went to look for a good spot so you could enjoy your coffee calmly. There was a corner near the window where not many people were around, so you sat there to wait for Jaehyeong. He had been right. As you stared outside the window, you noticed the raindrops starting to fall. You contemplated the weather, trying not to think about anything.

"Nice spot!" You heard him say as he sat down in front of you. "It did rain! Am I a psychic?" he joked, looking at the rain and giving you your drink.

"That is sweet," you said, and suddenly realized you might not have just meant it to describe the drink he chose for you. His eyes were so sparkly and full of joy, making you laugh again. "Seems you know me quite well; this seems delicious, or you really are a psychic," you said as you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"I will look into auditions for psychics; it might just come natural."

You were not surprised at how easily he could make you laugh, but the blossoming affection within you piqued your curiosity once again. All of your emotions collapsing caused you to retreat inward, contemplating and reflecting on them more deeply.

You would normally be aware of your surroundings, as you swear by the "here and now" perspective, but it was becoming more evident that something was on your mind.

Jaehyeong tried to study your expression. "So you got an interesting scene for the assignment?" he asked casually.

It was only natural for him to ask such a question, but what he understandably failed to anticipate was the extent of your concern since you first read it. He did notice the way you sighed and gazed at your coffee, absentmindedly playing with the whipped cream on top.

"Is everything okay?"

You looked up at him; his eyes expressed so much concern, and you felt so comfortable that you even managed to pull off a small smile. "It's a tough one," you admitted. "I read it, and it just feels so real. I'm concerned about not being able to even start with it; I think I—I, uh..."

Jaehyeong allowed the silence to linger, giving you the space and time you needed. Finally, you spoke up again, expressing your worries, "I don't know how I will manage to separate my own feelings from the character's." You glanced back at your coffee. "Actor's problems, huh?" you added, trying to lighten the mood with your self-deprecating comment.

Jaehyeong chuckled softly and met your eyes. "No need for jokes; your feelings are valid." He considered his words, "that is definitely a challenge, but you have a gift for channeling emotions authentically while keeping yourself protected."

He pondered for a moment. "You can perhaps resort to a simple technique...breath in and out, stay calm so the tears flow naturally once you relax," he suggested, offering a potential solution for the challenging assignment you had to prepare for next class, where you had to cry on cue. "But you can always talk to the professor and see if he can change your scene. I'm sure he will understand. Your learning process doesn't have to come at the expense of your suffering."

You finally smiled truthfully; his understanding and advice moved you deeply. He really saw through you and realized how deeply it was affecting you.

"And you're not alone," he added, smiling back. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to; I'll listen and provide my psychic powers, no charge."

The way he brought out your most genuine laugh of the day spoke volumes. He was a special one, no doubt. You felt so grateful towards him, and just having him around felt like a blessing. The emotions were finally clear as you saw into his eyes, expressing your heartfelt gratitude. There was a deep care for him that made you feel excited and frightened all at the same time.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Dojoon exclaimed with a smile as he saw you entering the venue. He walked over to greet you properly and led you to where Woosung and Hajoon were busy setting up some fairy lights. They greeted you as warmly as Dojoon had and happily welcomed your offer to help with the preparations for Jaehyeong’s surprise.

“Thank you for lending us a hand; Jaehyeong would love to know that,” Woosung said, winking playfully. It seemed he had caught you off guard; your nervous smile was the giveaway. He let it rest but exchanged a look with Hajoon, who was trying to hide a knowing smile from you.

It was getting more obvious as time went by just how much you were into each other. The members didn’t want to meddle much anymore, but they still had some tricks up their sleeves if they didn’t see much interaction. Just one final push.

More guests began to arrive once the early crew finished decorating, filling the venue with an air of excitement and joy as the hour drew near. Smiles adorned everyone's faces as they eagerly anticipated Jaehyeong's arrival, but it was a certain starry-eyed face that kept the members eager to witness their youngest member's reaction.

The plan was set in motion. Hajoon received Jaehyeong's message, expressing concern as he found no one around in the building. Hajoon quickly reassured him that he was in no trouble but urged him to hurry since the crew needed to begin filming the promotional video for the tour earlier than planned, mentioning a logistical issue with the venue—all of this a white lie concocted to ensure Jaehyeong arrived alone at his surprise birthday party.

Jaehyeong's face showed a whirlwind of emotions as he stepped through the door. The lights out momentarily masked his concern, but it flickered across his face for a brief moment before he comprehended the situation. The sudden burst of lights, music, and chants of birthday wishes took him completely by surprise.

A particular someone captured his gaze, and all that his face revealed was enchantment. The members nudged each other, beaming at Jaehyeong‘s perfect reaction to realizing you were here. The birthday party be damned—almost—this is what they lived for, just witnessing their maknae being truthfully happy.

The band energetically embraced Jaehyeong in a group hug, messing with his neatly styled hair that his style crew had meticulously managed to tame. He had already thought that his sort of laid-back outfit didn’t match the tidy hairstyle much, so he felt more comfortable as he let them ruffle his hair. If only he could have guessed it was just to make him think he had to be at least half ready to only change his outfit once he arrived at the promotional video set.

Jaehyeong’s smile remained on his lips as the members pulled back, filled with gratitude for his friends. But his eyes suddenly searched past them, landing on yours across the room as he heard the beats of his yearning heart echo inside his ears.

There you stood, smiling shyly. The party buzz faded into background noise as your gazes met and held. Before he could second-guess himself, Jaehyeong started walking towards you. His heart pounded faster as your smile grew, mirroring the hope in his own eyes.

Time seemed to pass slower than it really was, but as Jaehyeong reached you under the colorful lights, he softly spoke your name, bringing you back from your slow-motion imagination.

“Y/N, I’m so happy you’re here.”

You shook your head slightly as you scrunched your nose. “It’s not hard to show up for you. Your hair...” you said, noticing the disheveled locks that his friends had left. Gently giggling, you ran your fingers through his hair, fixing it back into place. Jaehyeong didn’t have much time to react since the crowd approached to congratulate him. You stayed behind, trying to slow your heartbeat as you greeted a couple of acquaintances.

The party started right away, with people taking Jaehyeong from one place to another. Dojoon kept an eye out between mingling, ensuring everyone felt included in the revelry. He noticed you and Jaehyeong gravitating naturally together amidst chaos, even stealing shy glances when thinking no one saw while you were not within the same group of people. Trusting the magic of moments, Dojoon gave you space, engaging others enthusiastically.

In a brief moment, he found Woosung awaiting karaoke's start. Woosung nodded discreetly towards the balcony as he drew Hajoon in, who was busy setting the microphones. They watched in awe as Jaehyeong led you outside while holding your hand.

Woosung smiled knowingly. "Our work here is done. All that's left is for them to follow their hearts."

As you walked out onto the balcony, the sounds of the party gradually faded into the background, merging with the bustling city below like distant background music. You both took in the view, and for a moment, nothing was said.

You took the opportunity to reach for the small birthday present you brought. You were not planning anything specific to gift him, but when you saw it, you immediately thought of Jaehyeong, and you bought it right away.

“I got you something,” you announced.

Jaehyeong looked at you, surprised. “What? You didn’t have to,” he chuckled nervously.

“How could I not? It’s small, but I really hope you like it.” You took a deep breath and handed him the small box.

The gentle touch of his fingers sent thrills down your arm, so you tried to hide the sudden nervous smile that grew on your face. You stared as he opened his present and were moved by his growing smile.

“I’m a psychic… this is so cool. Where did you get it?”

He discovered the reason why, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just window shopping and saw it; it was meant to be yours.”

“You…” he searched for your eyes. “I love it. Could you?” he asked you, offering to put the subtle crystal ball necklace around his neck.

There was no possible way to hide your smile anymore; he had you hooked. You stepped close enough to grab the necklace and softly rested your arms on his shoulders to fasten it. Once the necklace was secured around his neck, you took a second to admire it on him. It was perfect; it wasn’t extravagant, and it fit so well with him. Before he could read the emotions that your eyes expressed, you looked back at the city.

“Thank you,” he simply said.

“Welcome.”

Jaehyeong's heart raced with anticipation, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He reminded himself that there was nothing to worry about when he was with you. Being around you brought him a sense of tranquility that he had never experienced elsewhere. Just by gazing at you and witnessing how your smile mirrored the radiance of the moon in the night sky, he felt at ease.

“Thank you for coming; seeing you made this surprise even better,” Jaehyeong softly said. You turned to face him, and the full sight of your smile melted his worries away.

“There was no reason not to be here.” Something in your voice gave him courage.

“I’ve loved to have you around the past week; we hadn’t seen each other in so long since I was too busy to attend classes.” Jaehyeong stepped closer, slowly, almost without being noticed. “I’ve missed asking you for help; I’ve missed our talks—“

“I’ve missed you too,” you interrupted, summarizing what you’d both felt before you could see each other again.

A fondness entered his eyes, and he nodded. “Y/N,” he started and gently reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin. Your fingers curled around his, igniting sparks in both of your hearts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he paused for a second. “I’ve felt the agony for so long, but now I’m taking my leap of faith, letting hope lead me. What I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. Not just as a friend. Every time we’re together, you become the highlight of my day.”

A tender smile broke across your face, accompanied by sparkling eyes that searched for his, easing the last of his nerves. “Jaehyeong, I like you too. I have for a while.”

It was your heart´s turn to settle into joy and calmness. You also lived through the agony and hope that Jaehyeong mentioned, making you remember about that small moment you shared in class once. It was almost poetic how he brought it up. He eased you up in ways you hadn’t known before, and that is why you stepped even closer and lifted your free hand to cradle his cheek. Jaehyeong’s eyes fluttered shut at your warm touch, savoring it.

Slowly, you leaned in, giving him every opportunity to pull back if unwanted. But all he wanted was you. He searched for you with his eyes still shut, until both of your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were impossibly sweet and soft against yours, weakening your knees, but you stayed strong and continued to kiss him.

You both pulled away, driven by a gentle laugh that started without even thinking much about it all. You rested your forehead on his, keeping your eyes closed as you kept your hand on his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you whispered, your thumb stroking his cheek soothingly.

Jaehyeong smiled with ease when your eyes met, both sharing radiant gazes equally filled with care and desire. “You make me so happy,” he shared while his cheeks heated up.

You giggled softly and pulled back to appreciate his face. “I am the lucky one,” you admitted.

“Should we stay out here for the rest of the night?” Jaehyeong asked, almost suggesting.

“You are the star of the party; it’s your birthday.” You giggled even more. “Even though, that sounds nice. No matter how cold it is out here, I feel warm being this close to you,” you confessed.

Jaehyeong’s protectiveness heightened and embraced you, drawing you even closer. “Then let’s get inside. The guys would also probably want to know what happened,” he chuckled. “Did you catch up on their meddling?” he asked, amused.

“I did!” you exclaimed. “I admit they helped quite a bit, though.”

“Yeah, they did.” Jaehyeong searched for your hand and tilted his head towards the door. You squeezed his hand and followed him inside.

You stepped in even closer than you had been when you went out to the balcony. Hajoon noticed the smiles on your faces and whispered at Dojoon to look back, and in a chain reaction, he pulled Woosung from where he was talking to a couple of their friends. They looked at you both in awe, full of joy for what seemed to have been a successful confession. No matter who initiated it or what was said and done, they were just happy for the both of you and how easily everything fell into place.