I Dont Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college’s football team. Rumor has it, there’s simply nothing he can’t do. The same cannot be said about you, but you’ve never had an issue with that. You’re happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you’ve taken an interest in him — and you’re sure you shouldn’t. There’s no way this can end well for you… right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then… it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

Keep reading

Swapped

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Crack (a very nice helping of it)

↳ Body Switch AU

Words: 14.5k

Warnings: some fxf and mxm, suggestive undertones here and there, wonderful detailed descriptions of that time of the month (yay!) with mentions of blood, jungkook and y/n just freaking out in general

Summary: Like any other typical girl in existence, you have a crush on someone. He’s tall, dreamy, and kind - in short, he’s perfect for you. But he doesn’t know you exist, well not yet, but you don’t suppose he can’t not notice you if you’re in his best friend’s body…….right?

Keep reading

One Year, My Love [M] (ft. Jungkook) | pt. 1

→ historical/royal!au, marriagecontract!au, based off the kdrama 100 days My Prince; → You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year. 

→ genres: lots of fluff/plot development, a tiny bit of angst, and a little smut → 15k words | part 1| part 2 | fin.

A/N: I went on a writing binge the past couple days and I was able to finish this monster fic, and wanted to get it out for you guys so you can read during quarantine! I usually tend to write really angsty and darker fics, so I hope that the fluff in this one is really refreshing :) 

“No!” You scream, flailing your arms as the officials try to drag you into the waiting carriage. “I won’t marry him! I can’t!” 

The matchmaker looks wistfully at you as you struggle. “Please! Y/n, he is rich! He’ll pay for your debt, and you’ll avoid a punishment! I’m sure that your fiancee, ‘Jungkook’ that you speak of, doesn’t even exist! You have no one else! Just go!” 

You struggle, putting up quite a fight with the two men gripping either of your arms. “Never!” You scream, turning to bite one on his arm. He yelps and lets you go, and when his partner sees that you bit him, he throws you onto the ground, drawing his sword and whipping it at your neck. 

He huffs, “You bitch, you know that it’s the King’s decree that all women must be wed by tonight. This is your last chance to survive. Your punishment may be death, and if you want to meet that end, so be it!” 

You glare up at him, blowing the hair that fell out of your bun out of your face, “So do it! Kill me! I’d rather die than be married off to someone who’s older than my father! He’s a pig!” 

Keep reading

Hiraeth | Part I

Jungkook x reader

Hiraeth: A longing for a home you can’t return to, or that never was.

Summary: It was confusing, the whole ordeal was. But no matter how many times you told yourself to go back, he was always there, taunting you to stay. Royalty AU

Genre: Smut, angst, minor fluff, some violence

Warnings: This is a multi part series that includes sexual themes and mature content.

-

“How much for admission?”

“25 today, ma’am.”

She smiled, pulling out a 20 and a 5 from her wallet before handing it to the ticket clerk. He took them gently, replacing them with a wide blue and gold ticket for the museum. She thanked him before gathering her things and turning to walk inside.

She had always admired museums, though she never had any time to actually go. She had been quite a few times as a child with her parents, but now that she was older, and miles away from her family, work eventually caught up with her, and museums just seemed out of reach.

Regardless of that fact, art was something she could find solace in; she was a writer herself. She understood the lengths of time and energy one had to put into a piece of work, and that gave her a great sense of comfort as she walked inside.

Despite it being a Saturday morning, the building was fairly empty, with the exception of a few families here and there checking the pre-historic exhibits. She had her eyes set on the literature displays, which she desperately wanted to write about since last year when that section of the museum opened.

Clutching her notebook and pen close against her chest, she proceeded to follow the direction of the pamphlets map, trying to weave her way around the statues and memorials of artists.

She had been tasked with the assignment of writing about the new piece of writing found in the museums archives. Something about a hefty donor who had initially donated the piece after he discovered it on a backpacking through Europe trip with his friends. The rest of the story somewhat varies from source to source, and little to none is actually known about the piece of writing.

Finally stepping into the large vicinity of the literature department, she found herself smiling, allowing her eyes to trail over the scrolls dating back from England in the 15th and 16th century, and over some of the more modern pieces. A book perched on a stand under a glass casing caught her eye and she mindlessly gravitated towards it.

“Careful with that.”

She gasped, taking a step back and clenching her fist around her book-bag. Though the sight of the middle aged man standing before her caused her to let out a long sigh, wincing as she awkwardly laughed.

“Sorry, you really scared me there.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, “My apologies, you were just looking too close. Please make sure you’re outside the red tape.”

Red tape?

And then she looked down.

Oh, red tape.

Her feet took two steps back, until they were finally behind the displays limit.

“Sorry,” she smiled shyly.

“Ah it’s alright, it’s just that this one’s fairly new. Last week’s shipment.”

She let her eyes hover over the book again. It was closed, sadly, the contents of whatever was inside maybe never to be exposed. The cover was a red mahogany, which splayed the three letters of J.G.Q.

It was strange to say the least, an author she had never once heard of. Granted, she wasn’t a literature fanatic, and she certainly didn’t enjoy boasting about her supposed knowledge on books and authors but, she had at least prided herself on her remembrance of important novels and their creators.

This one had to have some importance if it was here.

“Is that the author?”

He nodded, taking a closer look at the book, “Not really sure what it’s about, just know that it’s pretty expensive.”

“How much was the bidding?”

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue, “Somewhere around the 70 million mark.”

“What? Yea, I’d say that’s pretty expensive,” she nearly choked. If she could recall, that was nearly as much as Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and that was a painting.

“Yea, we’ve had other museums try to claim it but the owner really wanted it displayed here,” he shrugged, leaning on the disinterested side.

She clasped her hands together in front of her jacket, smiling kindly at him, before thanking him for the information. He quickly got the hint and waved a goodbye, before leaving her alone with the book.

This was it, this was the one, the one she was purposed to write about. A gleaming shimmer of anticipation shone through her eyes as she quickly pulled out her notebook to write.

—

“Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am?”

Her body shook unexpectedly at the source of the quiet but urging voice. Locking eyes with the security guard, she began apologizing profusely, shaking her head at the sight that he had unfortunately caught her in.

She had managed to fall asleep in the middle of writing, pen still locked in hand, and body tiredly slumped against one of the stone benches near the book casing. It was covered now, blocking her view from the piece that lied underneath.

“Oh, it’s alright ma’am,” the guard started, his lips turning to the sides to expose his teeth, “It’s quite late though; the museums about to close soon.”

She hymned an okay, swallowing to coat the inside of her dry throat so she could properly speak to him.

“I’ll leave right now. Again, I’m very sorry,” she found purchase onto her bag, holding it up as some figurative shield against his scrutiny. He seemed kind enough however, and merely held up a hand to ease down her nerves.

“No need to apologize. We’ve had plenty of people doze off here. Art can get quite boring.”

Her brows knitted together, yet before she had any time to open her mouth to rebuff his statement that art was simply not boring, he had already sauntered off down the hallway, gesturing to the exit door across the room.

She followed his ushering, leaving quick without another word. How could someone work at a place full of art and mosaics and still have the audacity to call it boring. It rubbed her the wrong way, but she shrugged it off without a second’s remorse. Some people were just like that.

The notes she had taken hadn’t gotten too far either, and she bit her lip at the thought of returning again sometime next week, presumably after the guard could forget her face. She didn’t want the embarrassment of an encounter again.

Eventually, digging through her bag, her fingers found her car keys, and she sluggishly drew them out, making way to the parking lot on the other side of the building. But suddenly, the night’s gentle hush was crudely interrupted when a harsh scraping echoed from her right.

Better judgement called out to her, pleading for her to just continue onwards to her car but goddammit, she was too stubborn. Hugging her keys at the base of her chest, she neared the side of the museum, peering past one of the concrete pillars and into the alley where the trash bins were placed.

There, in the short distance of where her eyes were able to scan, were two darkly dressed men, hauling an oversized trash bag over their shoulders. They must’ve been taking out the trash.

Releasing a long breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in, she finally tore her eyes away from them, turning on her heel to get to ready to leave before her keys slipped past her fingers. With a clichéd clank, they hit the ground, captivating the attention of the two men.

Shit.

“Hey! You there!”

Shit shit shit.

Her jaw hung open, tongue continuously flicking over her teeth to find any words to say but they never seemed to come out. One of the men had already bolted in her direction, and while her heart sped up dangerously to breaking point, she couldn’t find the fight or flight response to move anything. They had both failed her and instead, she just froze.

“What did you see?” One of them harshly whispered, whipping his head back and forth to survey the area. She could only muster a small shake of her head. Nothing, I saw nothing.

“Relax man, you obviously scared her,” another gruff voice boomed from behind him. They both looked older, probably mid-thirties, and both had the same tired look over their faces.

“She saw us hauling around the bag!” He hissed at the other, clutching at her arm to keep her steady in place.

“I don’t…I don’t,” the stuttering mess tumbled out innocuously. The lesser of the tense two crouched down to her eye level, letting out an exasperated sigh before waving his hand at his partner.

“Just do it quick then.”

“What?” She yelped, clenching both her fists in an attempt to take control over her arm again.

One of them slugged off to the black trash bag, opening it casually before reaching deep into its contents. Her eyes widened at the sight of the red book being tugged out from the bag, before he walked back over.

“You’re going to do it with that?” The one still gripping her arm asked, his voice dripping venom. The one standing shrugged, “It’s the only thing that looks hard enough. You should’ve brought your bat.”

Everything they were saying seemed to go in one ear and out the other, an unfamiliar ringing replacing their bickering instead. The thumping of her heart beat pulsated to her face and she felt herself ready to combust with panic. But before those feelings could even settle within her, the standing man drew the book back past his shoulder.

She stared at him, anticipating the blow, until he finally fulfilled her worst thought and whipped it forward against her head, the last sight her eyes caught were the bold letterings of “J.G.Q.”

—

The fogginess soon cleared from her mind, a daydream like essence washing over her instead as she tried to take in whatever surroundings her eyes would let her. They struggled to adjust to the dim lighting but eventually, they roved over the room.

A layer of dust seemed to coat almost everything in sight, like a thick blanket, hiding the interiors of simplistic furniture. This room had to have been forgotten, or at least, drawn away to be forgotten.

She stood up, wincing at the painful throbbing in her head, and she raised an arm to tightly clutch around her forehead, trying to suppress a whimper.

“What the hell…”

It didn’t dawn on her before, but this certainly was not the alleyway behind the museum building. Though she had a fair history with panicking under strange and foreign circumstances, she used whatever strength was left in her to ease herself, at least until she could figure out exactly where she was and how she got here.

How long had it been since she was knocked out? How much did it induce her to forget? And what had she gotten herself into yet again?

Mentally thanking herself for never once loosening her grip on her book-bag, she pulled out its contents, double and triple checking if everything she had left her house with was with her now. The notebook, the pen, a couple of candy wrappers, her headphones and finally her cellphone, which she whipped out in an attempt to call whatever authorities she could.

Except, the time was off.

Surely it had to have been later on in the day, or at least week. But both the date and time were exactly the same as when she had checked leaving the museum. A string of muttered profanities escaped her lips as she tried desperately to dial any number, yet to no avail. Of course.

Pursing her lips, she shoved everything back into her bag, tightly zipping it shut before slinging the strap over her shoulder. There was no way she’d find answers in here, so without a pause for thought, she opted to leave the dusty room and proceeded towards the single wooden door.

Her heart nearly stopped when she found a long corridor extending to a large spiral staircase. This certainly did not look like any building structure she was familiar with. Everything felt too elegant, it felt too, old.

The hallway comprised a series of doors, each further than the last. One however, on the left side caught her eye. It was the only set of double doors in the hallway, probably for something or someone important. Every ounce of her being somehow felt it would’ve been wrong to stumble into that room, but she couldn’t shake off the curiosity within her.

Licking her lips, and holding her bag just a tad bit closer, she gently paced over to the doors, careful not to attract any attention to the light taps of her feet across the red carpeted floor.

When she finally reached the doors, she squeezed her eyes shut and took in a deep breath, reminding herself that she had to do this if she wanted to find out how on earth she wounded up here.

So she latched her hand on the knob and quickly pushed it open.

It was darker than the hallway, and with proper assessment, she concluded it had to be night passing by now, judging by the dark blue skies beyond the window across the room. Upon further inspection, and after walking inside, she swallowed thickly as she realized this was a bedroom.

An incredibly large one, might she add.

To the right, a queen sized bed was pushed against the wall, meeting its head-post. Four long pillars extended from each corner, holding up some kind of…tapestry? Drapery? It was hard to tell. To the left, a white sheer glossed door was closed, and right beside it, a folding wardrobe.

Drifting towards the accordion styled doors of the closet, she mindlessly opened one side, peering inside. It held men’s clothing, of various hues and gradients, yet the article that caused her blood to run cold, was the coat at the very end.

Embedded with a sequin of dazzling emblems and glitter, it carried some kind of regal feel to it. Almost as if this didn’t belong in her hands, or in anyone’s for that matter.

And then the door to the bedroom rattled and she froze dead in her spot, darting her head to the handle. Her body remained firmly glued to the ground, but her mind screamed at her to move, to hide, to do something. The sweat trickled over her forehead and if it weren’t for the rush of adrenaline coursing through veins, she would’ve cried. But there’s no time for that.

Tugging at her legs with her arms, she practically threw herself inside the closet, shutting it quick before sinking down in the farthest corner behind a rack of black lace trimmed boots. She cradled her head in her arms, whilst pulling her knees closer to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing to a complete halt.

The door opened. She could hear it. A grunt followed after.

Her body trembled in the darkness, silently waiting for the stranger to leave so she could escape. But she didn’t even know what she’d do after that. Who would she turn to? Who could she call? Not even her phone was functioning properly here and surely this wasn’t someplace where she was welcomed.

It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes, mindlessly waiting inside the closet, praying to whatever higher being that whoever was inside the room would not open the doors to reveal her hiding body. The sliver of light beneath the closet suddenly flickered out, and some shuffling could be heard on the other side.

Whoever it was, had gone to sleep.

She waited just a little bit more, hoping to make her escape sooner than later. Crawling over the boots, to the front, her hand carefully gripped the underside of the door, sliding it just crack open so she could slip out.

Eventually, her entire body finally made it out, and she shut her eyes, the concern too highly concentrated in her brain. Hands flailing over the carpet of the ground, she pushed herself upright, making sure not to breathe a single loud puff. It would be too risky.

But the universe had already made a point in proving she had the worst luck imaginable on earth, and while she was straightening out her clothes, the body in the bed adjacent to her sat up tiredly, bringing a hand to rub at their eyes.

She could only stare, hot pinpricks dotting all over her face until the body in the bed gasped.

It was a man. And he was gawking at her, angrily.

As soon as he could comprehend her presence and release a loud halting demand, she was running straight out of the room, with him on foot close behind.

-

Part II

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS  | JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader (ft. taehyung) 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings au, sad stuff, future smut 

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) time jumps bc i can’t write smooth transitions to save my life aha, mentions of a troubling marriage, mentions of alcohol consumption, also jk isn’t the bestest friend ever but we love him don’t we?

↳ WORD COUNT: 6.2k

↳ EXCERPT: ‘‘But tonight, Jungkook is taking a different route. One that does not lead to his home, but to your apartment building instead. He never takes it unless it’s Friday, the day he drops Sunhi off in your care for a few hours while he pretends he wants to fix whatever marital issues he has.’’

↳ A/N: today i give u ‘‘married dad jungkook who has feelings for his best friend but for obvious reasons won’t tell her’’ tomorrow?? who knows!! i’m planning a pt2 but lmk what u think!!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (coming soon)

Sunhi shared a slice of the sandwich you had made for her, giving you a smile as she handed over the other half of her PB&J. You thanked her, taking it from her tiny hand because if you didn’t, then she would be upset at you for rejecting her. 

She watched her favorite show ‘‘Chip & Potato’’ on your couch as she clutched to her favorite plush toy, a Dumbo tsum tsum you had gifted on her birthday. You didn’t think she’d like it that much, but Jungkook let you know she took it everywhere she went, explaining the reason as to why the plush looked dirty all the time.

Eventually the show is ignored, Sunhi falling asleep on your arm as you find yourself distracted on your phone, waiting for her dad to pick her up. You smile at the sight of the peaceful sleeping girl, running your fingers through her soft dark hair. 

At around 11:30 PM, Jungkook texts you that he’s outside, not wanting to risk pressing the doorbell and waking his daughter up. If there was something that could change Sunhi’s calm and sweet demeanor, it was being abruptly woken up. 

He’s giving you those apologetic eyes you’re starting to get used to, picking his daughter later than usual was becoming a regular thing now. You roll your eyes in exchange, tilting your head to the side and let him in. 

Jungkook smells good, like he just recently showered. Guessing he had, not wanting you to smell the ‘‘I just got laid’’ scent you knew he most likely had before.

Keep reading

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jungkook x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 6.6k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, fluff, angst

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 part of the love yourself collab run by yours truly. your best friend jungkook finally convinces you to seek therapy for your failing mental health. the only catch? the one therapist that’s within your price range is an alternative marriage counsellor, jung hoseok, and the only way jungkook managed to get you an appointment was by saying the two of you were married. will couples counselling actually be useful for your wellbeing, or will something that runs much deeper rise to the surface instead?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 language, fingering, oral (f receiving), jungkook being an absolute gentlemen in the bedroom and an absolute crackhead everywhere else, riding, protected sex, missionary, pretty vanilla sex, body worship, praising, mid-fuck love declarations, pretty soft honestly

much love to the kind @birthofvcnus for making this. i’ve never had a moodboard before, and it’s insanely gorgeous and perfectly fitting. please do support this creator!

—

“You’re trying to tell me the two of you are married?”

You blink at the therapist. “Y-yeah. Yes. We are, indeed, married.”

Jungkook swallows, eyes wide. “Very married.”

Hoseok (he refused to let you call him Mister Jung) narrows his eyes, chin cocked suspiciously. “I don’t buy it. Do you have your documents on hand?”

You choke on spit, heart racing. He knows. “Do you- do we need to- I haven’t-”

The two of you stare in bewilderment as he drops the glare and slaps his knee, throwing his head back with a peak of laughter. “Ah, I’m just messing with you folks, you’re fine.” He calms, letting out a satisfied sigh as he looks back and forth between you. “I like to have fun here,” he reveals, “keep it real. The couples that come to me are going through the roughest times in their relationship, sometimes their whole lives, you know? Anyways, let’s move on. When did the two of you start having problems?”

“It was a dark and stormy Tuesday,” Jungkook divulges in a hushed tone. “I had indigestion because I had eaten three packets of ramen when I normally stick to two, so I was distracting myself with the new game I-”

“Okay, Tarantino,” you break in, “nobody gives a shit.” You turn to Hoseok. “There’s nothing wrong with Jungkook, so you don’t need to bother talking to him. I’m the problem; my mental health is pretty poor and I know I need help.”

The therapist nods slowly. “I appreciate you sharing your opinion, Y/n. However, marriage is a two-way street. In addition, I ask that the two of you refrain from interrupting each other in the future. The two of you deserve to have your say.”

“Yeah, Y/n,” Jungkook jibes, “let me speak! You should listen to your husband!”

Hoseok looks stricken. “Let’s avoid enforcing any gender roles, Jungkook. It’s not constructive or relevant in a marriage.”

Jungkook considers this. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m like, the best husband ever, but I would still absolutely ace the housewife shtick.”

Keep reading