Tokkiggukie - Tumblr Blog

Bedeviled | Chapter 7: Adamantine

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

WC: 8.6k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, anxiety, mentions of a night terror, cruelty, physical violence, gore, blood, fear, frightening depictions of Hell and people in it, hopelessness, some tEnsiOn, pls kindly let me know if there's anything I missed. this chapter could be disturbing for some readers, pls read at your own discretion.

Previous

When you open your eyes, it's a little disorienting to see that the sky hasn't lightened any.

If anything, it's gotten even darker. You're not sure how long you were asleep. It doesn't really matter though, because no matter how much sleep you get, the exhaustion that has seeped into your bones won't be lessened. 

Not until you leave this place. 

"Give that Flame to your stupid little bastard friend, your ass is never leaving this place. Glad you finally figured that out."

You put your hands over your eyes, still lying on the ground. After a moment, you rub your eyes, then uncover your face. 

The first thing you notice is that the fire is no longer there. 

That might explain why it feels darker than it did when you fell asleep. 

The second thing you notice is that the rock he was lying on is empty. A quick glance around shows that he is, in fact, gone.

You sigh and rub the back of your neck as you sit up and look around once more. 

Your left wrist is starting to throb again, the bottoms of your feet already feeling swollen and tender even while you were asleep. 

Curling up and tucking your face into your knees, you try to conjure up the dream you were having, before it had turned into a hellish nightmare and woke you up. 

You were in the old swing; Tae was pushing you gently as you looked up through the tops of the trees. It lasted for quite a while. 

You and Taehyung were whispering and laughing about whatever the newest gossip in the village was that day. You met Tae on your tenth birthday, he was thirteen and new to the village. The two of you became friends quickly. 

The dream you were having took place when you were sixteen, there was so much to gossip about at the time. Your best friend was busy that day with something he refused to tell you about, so you and Tae went into the forest to kill time before getting to know the surprise. 

It felt like the dream lasted hours, it was so wonderful. 

You miss them. 

Your friends, your older cousin, the old swing. 

You can't wait to leave this place and see them again. 

"Apple!" The cheerful call reaches your ears, an echo of the dream.

Tears spring to your eyes as you lift your head and see nothing but dark dusty terrain that stretches on and on as far as the naked eye can see. 

"Apple!" The way the sound of your nickname being called morphs brings a pit to your stomach, "Apple!!"

His tortured screams bounce around in your head. 

"Help me!!"

You cover your ears, pushing against your skull with so much force you might actually damage your ears. 

If only you could rip them off. 

It wouldn't end the horrifying sounds cursing you with every breath you take. 

Please, make it stop-

"Looks like you finally decided to grace Hell with your consciousness."

You flinch and look up to see him walking towards you. 

"Bad dream?" He pouts at you in mock pity as you shakily bring your hands down. 

You need to take a second, not answering him as you just stare. 

"What? Don't tell me you're actually crying over a nightmare."

You wipe under your eyes to feel the salty tears that lay there. 

Forgot you were crying...

"Where were you?" You ask hoarsely. 

"Why? Afraid I might be escorting another little mortal girl through Hell?" A smirk spreads on his face, "Jealous, sweetheart?"

You shake your head, but don't bother to snap back. 

You're still trying to ground yourself and recover from the deep crevices in your mind that love to torture you endlessly. 

"You know, she's a lot more pleasant than you. We had a little fun in the second circle."

Your eyes snap to him and he laughs loudly at the fact that his little fib worked. 

"Uh huh, so you are the jealous type."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Even if I was," you gingerly check the bandages on your feet, "Why are you assuming you're the one I would be jealous over?"

"Your little boyfriend that can't take care of himself? That's who you'd be fighting the ugly green monster over? Pathetic," he spits. 

"Not my boyfriend," you remind him absentmindedly as you concentrate on your injuries.

"Well then, if you're not the jealous type, is he?" He asks curiously.

You nod, "Yup."

That makes his infamous smirk return as he watches you. 

"If you ever wanna have some fun, little mortal, let me know. Could get him to fall for you in seconds."

Your cheeks flush at his offer and you gulp, refusing to look at him. 

The next thing you know, he's crouching next to you, too close for comfort as he says, "You might not be throwing yourself at me, girl. But that doesn't mean you don't want to. If you think I can't feel your urges, you're wrong."

You look him dead in the eyes, "Why would I want anything to do with a demon that's done nothing but hurt me and use my pain against me in every way he can think of?"

"Because you can't resist me. But don't blame yourself, no human can," he whispers, leaning closer even as you lean away, "You're just dying for a taste, aren't you?"

The way his eyes flit from yours to your lips makes a horrible flutter in your tummy that you try to push down. 

He leans so close that you can feel his cold breath against your mouth and nose.

"Is the cold-hearted demon already catching feelings?" You whisper back in a moment of desperation to have the upper hand. 

His eyes harden and he pulls away, a brief look of disgust on his unnaturally handsome face. 

"Feelings? For this wretched little hag of a human?" JK picks up a lock of your knotted hair and drops it, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His tone turns mocking once more. At least you got him to back up for a second, "If you think for a second I would lower myself that much, think again."

"You're already in Hell," you say back evenly, not breaking eye contact as you whisper, "How much lower can you get?"

You see his jaw clench and his hand squeeze into a fist. 

Without flinching, you brace yourself for him to strike you in the face by gently closing your eyes.

But the hit never comes. 

You gulp and stay where you are for a little longer, but when it becomes apparent that he's not going to hurt you, you open your eyes. 

JK is standing a few feet away, staring at the ground with a glare fit to kill. 

When he senses your movement, his glare turns to you. 

"You act like you're so much better," he spits, "At least I didn't condemn myself to Hell for something as pathetic and fleeting as love."

You stand up, "Why did you condemn yourself here?"

He strides over to you, snarling, "I chose to be here. I chose to have my own power, not to answer to Him, not to be shackled to some duty of the greater good for the whole of my eternal sad little life."

"Power? You did this for power? Tell me JK, what power do you have?" You ask in disbelief, "You are shackled. All you do is walk around manipulating and tormenting and stealing souls. For who? You're telling me you chose this? That you do this for you?"

"I would choose it again, every single fucking time."

You shake your head, "You made a mistake-"

"Who are you to tell me I made a mistake?!" He roars, "I'd rather be stuck hunting every soul in this sorry excuse for a world than love someone who doesn't even love me back, who makes me lower myself so far that I'll be tortured for the rest of eternity just to let them have a longer life!!"

You stare at him, saying nothing. 

It makes him even angrier. 

"Your sorry ass can't even begin to understand what you've done for the sake of love," he says the last word like it tastes foul on his tongue, "You will regret ever coming here by the time I'm done with you. But that regret will get you nowhere."

The demon gets closer, "You will soon see what suffering is, I've gone easy on you. You can cry and scream and beg all you want; He won't have mercy on you. He sits up there on his throne and throws his creations away like they're worth no more than a piece of shit."

"You said you chose to-"

"Because I'd rather rot away down here than answer to Him," the demon seethes, "You think I'm cruel, mortal? You know nothing of cruelty. Take a look around you. Look at where you are. We're here because of Him."

You look away, locking your gaze on the ground. 

He scoffs, "You know I'm right."

"You're not," You whisper.

"Whatever," he turns and starts walking, "I don't care what happens to you or your stupid little friend." 

You watch after him as he keeps walking, never slowing down to let you catch up. 

He's lying. 

Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you start to follow. 

-

If you thought your feet hurt before, the pain radiating through them now is nearly unbearable. All you can do is stare at the demon's back as he walks, keeping yourself grounded as you limp after him. 

I'm not gonna give up. 

I promise. 

I'll save you.

You keep repeating these in your head and sometimes in a whisper to yourself. At one point though, you think he might hear you, because he looks over his shoulder and scoffs before marching ahead faster than before. 

It felt like the vast field was never going to end, but like each circle thus far, it does. There's a forest just ahead that you think might wrap around the entire fourth circle. Closing in the desolate wasteland with a ring of dead trees. 

You're not sure if the fifth circle begins in the forest though, it might not start until you're out...

JK walks without hesitation into the forest, leaving you to stumble after him, biting your tongue as your feet continue to get poked and slashed by the unforgiving earth. 

But you don't stop. 

He mutters to himself angrily, kicking stones and sticks and whatever else happens to be unlucky enough to be in his way. 

Stupid mortal. 

Stupid pathetic ridiculous sad excuse for a mortal. 

He needs to control himself, he can't lash out like you make him so desperately want to. Everything is fucked up now, because he lost control. You're the only mortal that has ever weakened his resolve and made him break. 

It's your fault he lashed out. 

Now he's fucked. 

How the hell is he meant to get your soul? 

You're already damned to Hell. You made a deal with him and he's not going to lead you out of here. You might not give him your soul, but you won't be able to leave anyway. Not without him leading you out. 

The problem isn't you escaping without giving him your soul. 

The problem is time. Other demons will eventually find you and take your soul by whatever means they can. You'll wander Hell until they persuade you to give them your soul. You truly screwed yourself over. 

He couldn't care less. 

But you also screwed him over. 

That's what pisses him off to no end. 

What the hell is he even doing anyway? 

This is a waste of time. 

He thought he could manipulate you in so many different ways. Now he doesn't stand a chance. You won't listen to him, not after everything he's done and said. 

He should never have made that deal.

If the two of you are found...

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. 

JK kicks a small stone laying in his path. It flies further than any so far, striking a tree so hard it takes a fairly large chunk of rotting bark with it as it falls to the forest floor. 

He breathes heavily. 

Calm down. 

You need to calm down. Nothing beneficial is going to come out of losing all control. 

He stops short, staring at a moldy leaf on the ground. 

Then he turns to see you clamoring over a burnt log, your face twisted in pain. 

A surge of rage consumes him for a moment when he looks at you. 

Then it slowly ebbs away when he takes a few deep breaths. 

Okay. 

Okay, he's starting to regain control. 

He's the one in charge here, not you. He's the one that's dealt with humans since the beginning of time, not you. He can control his emotions and impulses better than any mortal can. You are run by your emotions, all humans are.

At some point, whether it be lust, anger, grief, or anxiety, you will be taken over and he can take that upper hand once more. 

Just stay calm. 

That's his advantage, he just needs to use it smartly. 

You stumble up to him, a look of surprise on your face when you realize he's not a hundred feet away and leaving you in the dust. 

"Why did you stop?" You ask breathlessly, the first thing you've said to him in hours. 

He looks down to see the bandages wrapped around your feet are soaked in red, not only the bottoms now. He briefly wonders if you cut the tops of your feet or if the bottoms have bled so much it seeped up the cloth until no more white was visible. 

Then he looks back at you, "Didn't want to lose you."

He sees you twitch at that, just the smallest reaction, but he caught it. 

Of course he did. 

Your eyes fluttered for a moment and your lips quivered before you composed yourself. 

Of course. Mortals are slaves to their emotions, continuously being bent to the will of them. 

The demon smothers the smirk that nearly exposes him, continuing to look at you blankly. 

"Ok, well. How much further?" You ask quietly, clearly still out of breath. 

"Not much," he says, far too soft for his character as he turns to keep going, "Maybe another hour, no more than that."

You stare at him suspiciously, then you keep walking, staying alert.

He's obviously got some new trick up his sleeve and thinks you'll fall for it. 

You shake your head and climb up onto a rotting log. 

There was no other way around it, trees and bushes on either side blocking any way but over the top.

Carefully finding the right footholds, you go slow. The last thing you need is to hurt yourself even more. It's already taking you longer than it should with these injuries. 

No matter how slowly and carefully you were going, it didn't do you any good when you made a wrong step and wood splintered underneath you. 

You lurch forward, arms flailing in the air as you scrunch your face in preparation for hitting the forest floor and probably breaking your nose. 

The sudden feeling of hands grasping you and halting your descent makes your eyes fly open. 

You're met with the darkest eyes you've ever seen, staring straight into your soul. A full ten seconds goes by while you just stare at each other. You finally snap out of it and look down to see his hands are placed almost under your armpits where he caught you. 

You gulp. 

The demon doesn't look away when he lifts you a bit to unstick your foot from the log, then gently places you down, not even straining. It was as if he just swooped a toddler up before they ran into something and placed them out of the way. 

He's about to keep walking, but stops when he feels a hand on his wrist. 

Turning, he locks eyes on your small hand clasped around his wrist, little bits of dried blood are speckled along the back of your hand. 

His eyes travel up until they meet yours, but you aren't looking at him. 

A tense moment passes then you let go like he burned you, a lump in your throat as you take a faltering step back. 

"Sorry," you squeak out. 

He doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at you.

After another uncomfortable minute, he turns and keeps walking, as if nothing happened. 

You put a hand over your eyes for a second, calming yourself before you follow him. 

-

It's strange, as the two of you walk through the forest, you can feel yourself growing more and more irritated with each step.

That in itself is not much different than it's been the entire time you've been here. The weird part is that there's really no reason for it now. He hasn't said a word, neither of you have, not since you apologized for grabbing his wrist earlier. 

He hasn't insulted you, hasn't antagonized you in any way. 

So, why are you getting annoyed?

You shake your head, as if the physical action would somehow scatter your thoughts into the wind and you wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. 

The feeling of being angry at someone or something, but not knowing what, is worse than one would think. You don't even have anything to think about to channel the anger towards, which makes you even more irritated. 

"We're almost there-"

"Don't bother telling me until we're actually there," you snap. 

You stop walking, startled at your own words. The demon ahead of you also stops but doesn't turn to look at you. 

Eyes shifting around the wooded area surrounding you, you tap your foot in annoyance. You're not sure what made you snap at him like that, but honestly, he deserved it! He might not have done anything at that moment, but that doesn't mean you haven't had more than enough patience with his nasty behavior leading up to now. 

He had it coming. 

When he starts to turn to look at you, you expect to see him glaring and spitting an offensive remark. You ready yourself to shout an equally nasty comeback, but it dies in your throat when you see a smirk on his face. 

Why-

Why is he smiling?

Shouldn't he be mad at you?

"Feeling a little grumpy?" He asks. 

It's such a normal tone of voice he's using that you find yourself just standing there in confusion. 

Your eyes narrow, "What's your game?"

The words come out more accusatory than you had intended, but you don't say anything to let him know that or take them back. 

He chuckles, "I don't know what you're talking about. We should keep moving though, like I said, we're almost there."

He turns and keeps walking. 

Sending a nasty look his way, you start walking annoyingly slow. 

If you have to be in a foul mood, he should too. You'll annoy him as much as you can.

JK just chuckles to himself as he hears you grumble to yourself. He doesn't care how slow you walk; it'll probably just annoy you even more. Which is quite amusing to him. 

It isn't even fifteen minutes later that you step out of the forest and onto a small stretch of prickly dirt. 

You stop short when you look ahead and see a massive river. It's even larger than the one in the cave, yet this one has no ferryman to carry you across. 

There are black gnarly mountains on the other side, thick dark smoke rising from behind them and the sound of screams echoing from somewhere deep within. 

All of your anger dissipates, your self-control suddenly rocketing back into your body. You stumble back, coming out of your stupor. 

Stay strong, ____.

You stare in horror at the sight before you. 

Not at the river itself, but the humans atop it. There are thousands upon thousands of bloody people, all different sizes, ages, genders. 

Their faces are twisted in rage as they bite and claw and wrestle each other. Blood coats them and the water beneath their feet. 

JK turns to look at you, his expression unreadable when you're able to rip your eyes away from the gory mess to his own intense gaze. 

It all makes sense now. 

He gives you a tiny nod, confirming the unspoken question in your eyes. 

That's why you were feeling that way in the forest. You must have passed into the fifth circle without realizing it. 

Wrath. 

You don't want to look; you don't want to see all of them tearing at one another violently. It didn't matter if some looked weaker than others, no one was being pitied. 

Get a grip. 

You nod, wiping at the hair falling into your face as you gather your courage. 

I can do this. 

"How do we get across?" You ask, voice quiet amongst the inhuman shrieks of rage and pain. 

"We walk."

"Will they see us?"

So far, the only contact you've had with the sinners in Hell was that lady in the second circle. The reminder of the incident sends a chill down your spine. 

None of the other prisoners seemed to have even known that you were there. 

Thinking back, you realize that in the third circle you had only seen the sinners at the beginning, you were alone with him after that. And in the fourth circle, they weren't aware of anything or anyone at all. 

Would this circle be the same?

"Does it matter?"

You look at him at his words, "Huh?"

"If I tell you they won't see you or if I tell you they'll rip you to shreds, would it change the fact that we need to cross?"

You bite your lip, then shake your head. 

"There's no other way to cross," he says, reading your mind, "Straight through is the fastest way. Trying to find another path will only take longer, this river doesn't end, and the violence won't lessen."

You nod, adjusting your cardigan as you will yourself to be the bravest you've ever been. 

"Ok."

"Ok?" He clarifies your decision, dark eyes boring into yours. 

You nod. 

"I'll see you on the other side then, hopefully all in one piece," he turns to leave, but stops when you grab his arm in a panic. 

"Wait! You're not coming with me?"

He laughs and pulls his arm out of your grip, "Why would I?" 

"B-because-"

"Whether I'm with you or not will not change what happens to you. I'm not going to subject myself to being around you during this, you're already whiny and annoying enough."

You gulp as he turns and walks away. 

You glance at the river again before turning back, but he's gone. 

"Darn it," you feel your eyes welling up with tears as you stomp your foot in frustrated anxiety. You're so scared you might actually be sick. 

There's nothing for it. 

You need to get across that river. Nothing is going to stop you, but sitting here analyzing is just going to stretch on that fear. You aren't sure if they will see you or not, maybe he was just trying to scare you. Either way it doesn't matter. 

You're crossing that river. 

Pulling your cardigan around you more and straightening your back, you start limping towards the endless battle. 

-

None of them seem to sense your presence as you first come up. 

A few feet to your right, a young man that looks to be in his twenties is being pummeled by a middle-aged man, his face a bloody mess as he tries to fight back, clawing at the elder's face mercilessly. 

Your entire body is shaking with horror and fear.

You flinch violently when you see a young woman fall in front of your feet, scratches going down her face and throat. She looks up and you see her eyes are missing. 

A hand flies to your mouth as you muffle the scream that leaves you. 

Despite not being able to see, the woman suddenly lunges at you, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the throng, shrieking at the top of her lungs in pure hatred. 

You fall to the ground and turn just in time to see her getting hauled up and dragged away by some other woman around her age. They start biting and kicking, blood spraying everywhere. 

Your mind is clouded with so much confusion and terror that you don't move for a second.

Only when you see a thin man crawling frantically towards you on all fours, his eyes huge and mouth wide in an angered screech, does it register that you need to run. 

You scramble to your feet and take off running. 

There are so many people, all crowded and all enraged. 

And so much blood.

You've never seen so much blood in your entire life. 

It's slippery and leaves a thick coating on the bottoms of your feet as you push through the crowd frantically to get away from the crawler. More than a few times, you're pushed and fall onto your hands and knees, forced to crawl quickly until you can get back up. 

The sound is deafening. 

If you weren't in a state where you're thinking of nothing but getting out, you might notice the pounding headache from all the noise. 

Finally, after what feels like forever, you see an opening. 

There's a stretch of river where not many sinners are fighting. 

You glance back and see that the crawling man is gone, probably fighting with someone else now. You push through until you're running out of the throng.

It's a relief to be able to run faster, but you're also out in the open, an easier target to spot. 

You don't let yourself stop to think of anything but getting out. 

You have to get out. 

As you run, it suddenly occurs to you that you are literally running on top of the river. 

You're not sinking. 

There's no time to think about why or how people aren't sinking, you just push the thought out of your brain and keep running. 

You thought you might actually make it. 

It felt like the enormous stretch was getting smaller. 

Then something hard smashes into you and you go flying, landing harshly and crying out at the pain in your shoulder. 

You open your eyes and see a very large man standing over you, breathing heavily. 

There are deep gashes down the sides of his face and neck that ooze with dark blood, his eyes glazed over with insanity and pure unadulterated fury. 

He lets out a bellow of rage and grabs your arms, yanking you up as you scream fruitlessly for him. 

For the one that isn't here. 

The only one that's on your mind as you feel a horrible burning pain flare up through your arms, blood seeping through your cardigan. 

You're dropped harshly to the ground, your head cracking on something hard. 

Then you're being lifted again. 

All you can feel is the scorching pain in your arms and the throbbing in your head as he smashes you on the river again and again. 

Then suddenly his harsh grip is gone. 

You cough, the dark sky above you spinning as you try to catch your breath, your whole body convulsing.

Blood trickles from the back of your head. 

You roll over achingly slow, tears building in your eyes as you gulp in as much air as you can stand. It feels like your bones are broken beyond use.

When you're on your stomach, you open your eyes to be met with a pair of bright blue irises staring back at you. You're frozen with fear before you can try to raise yourself. 

The body beneath you, trapped under the river, stares back with no visible emotion apart from despair and empty anger. There are deep black circles under the strikingly light eyes, sagging impossibly low on the pale face. 

That's why you weren't sinking. 

When you realize there are thousands of bodies trapped under the entire river, a horrified chill seeps into your bones. 

Then you're suddenly sinking. 

Burning hot hands grasp your wrists and pull you into the river.

You snap out of it and start trying to back up, unable to stop screaming, doing whatever you can not to sink and join the sullen lying beneath the water. 

But the more you fight it, the faster you sink. 

Until water rushes over your head and down into your throat. 

The darkness under the water does nothing to hide the bodies stacked up, all staring at you. Not moving, just observing. 

The hands no longer pull you, there is no need.

You continue to sink faster; screaming and kicking as the watery prisoners watch you drown. 

The blackness starts to close in, coming from all sides until you can see nothing else. Right before you lose consciousness, you feel a pair of cold hands grab your wrists. 

Then nothing.

____________________

You kick desperately to get to the light. 

The beautiful blinding light. 

But the water is quick to soak your skirts and make them as heavy as lead, which makes it harder to go up as you continue to sink into the blue water, kicking furiously. 

It's so pretty when you're looking at it from above, you'd never guess the damage that something so beautiful can cause. 

A shadow passes over the light. 

It's actually kind of peaceful. 

Then a hand grabs your wrist and you feel yourself being pulled toward the surface. You snap out of it a second before your head breaks through the water. 

"Apple, you're so stupid!" He cries, dragging you onto the shore as you cough and gasp. 

"S-sorry, I'm sorry-" you cough and choke out the water that went into your mouth, then you sit there numbly as your teeth chatter uncontrollably. 

Your best friend gathers your skirts and pulls them from the water before crawling over and sitting next to you, patting your back. 

"No- I- I'm sorry I didn't catch you."

You shake your head and offer him a smile, "I was too far anyway. I didn't think I'd actually slip and fall in. N-never happened until now," you're shaking even though the sun is bright and warm today. 

"You're alright," he assures you, pulling you into a side hug. 

You've always appreciated how he never lost showing physical affection and comfort even as the two of you got older. 

All the other eighteen-year-old boys act like they're so much better than showing affection to loved ones. 

Not him. 

"Thanks," you say sheepishly when he hands you the blanket from your picnic earlier. 

Then he sits next to you, right against your side, "You can't go and die on me, Apple. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You turn and look into his eyes, seeing something there that you've feared would come. 

"I-..."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispers, "It's alright."

You nod, then turn your head to look at the sunlit forest around you. 

I wish I could just stay here with you forever. 

__________________

When you open your eyes, you see the river stretching on; the sinners still fighting their eternal battle in the distance. 

Groaning in pain, you turn onto your side, then fall onto your back, a gasp leaving you at the impact between your shoulder blades. 

You sense the presence before you see it, so you lift your head, afraid that big man might be back. 

But you're met with the sight of the demon pacing back and forth, chewing on his thumb nail. 

"You okay?" You croak out, squinting at him. 

His eyes snap over to you and he brings his hand down, then walks over and crouches, holding his hand out. 

"Am I okay?" He says with a raised brow.

You take it cautiously, wincing when he pulls you up into a sitting position. 

"How-..." you clear your throat, "Did you pull me out?"

"Well," he stands up, "You're no use to me trapped under the river, are you?"

You wait for a moment before shaking your head. 

"Exactly. Now get up, just because you made it across the river doesn't mean we can stop."

It hurts like hell to stand, but you do so anyway. 

"You look like shit," he says casually. 

"Thanks," you respond, gritting your teeth as you put a hand to the back of your head where it's really sore. Your hand comes away covered in blood. 

Suddenly, you realize your cardigan isn't on all the way, so you quickly fix it. The sleeves are partly torn from where that man clawed into your skin, leaving blood streaked across your arms and cardigan.

"You're so fucking weird," JK says with a look of mild disgust on his face at your obsessive behavior of fixing your clothes. 

You shrug tiredly, mind still stuck in the past. 

It was so easy to wish for immortality when you were a kid, now you're beginning to wonder who would go through all of this just to live forever alone while their loved ones passed on around them. 

"Having doubts?"

You look up and see him watching you closely. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You wrinkle your nose at him. 

A hint of a smile appears on his face, but he smothers it, then shakes his head. 

"If you give up now mortal, I'll give you something to regret."

Then he turns and starts walking towards the base of the looming mountain. 

You watch him for a moment, then you limp after him. 

It wouldn't have taken long to get to the mountain, but your limp makes it take a lot longer. 

Fifth circle. 

Fifth circle. 

Only four more to go after you get through this one. 

You bite your lip anxiously as you think about how long you have to pull this off. 

The circles seem to get worse with each one, how are you going to manage the ninth one? 

Do you have to actually go through it?

How long have you been down here anyway?

You're not sure if he's ever told you the truth. For all you know, you could've been down here for a week or six months already. Time is so confusing. 

You don't have all the time in the world though, and what time you do have, you're running out of it quickly. 

JK turns when he hears you stumbling, watching as you right yourself. 

He notices that your whole body is quivering slightly. Your hair is matted, and your dress is torn and bloody from the river. Your feet are bruised badly, the blood-soaked cloth still wrapped around them tightly. The wrapping around your wrist has also stayed put. 

Honestly, he hadn't noticed how dark the circles under your eyes were until now. You look like you haven't slept in months. 

When your eyes lift to his, he feels a weird pull in his chest. 

What the fuck?

JK looks away, "If you'd walk a little faster, we'd be there by now. In fact, we'd probably be at the ninth circle if you weren't so weak."

He walks away briskly. 

If he's being honest, you're one of the strongest humans he's ever come across. Your body seems to break down faster than theirs, but your spirit has yet to dim. 

Fuck being honest. 

He finally comes to the foot of the mountain, crossing his arms and looking up, trying to figure out the best way to get you up there. He doesn't want to be around you more than he has to be. There are other souls to take, he's only been able to get a couple dozen since you came. 

The demon sighs and rubs his temple for a minute before turning at the unmistakable sound of you slowly walking up to him. 

"Finally," he mutters. 

"Sorry," you whisper, "It hurts to walk."

Your voice is small and you avoid eye contact. 

...

He doesn't care. 

"If you think you can possibly handle it," he snaps, "We need to climb."

You gulp, but don't hesitate before nodding with some effort, "Ok."

"If I go first, you can see where I grab. If you go first, at least you'll have a soft landing when you inevitably fall."

A small laugh bubbles out of your chest at his joke. 

He swallows and rolls his eyes, "Just make a decision before we die of old age."

You get quiet again.

"I'll go first," you say lowly, walking over to the steep wall of jagged black stone, "Even though I'm pretty sure you won't catch me when I fall."

"Mm, you're learning."

You take a moment to observe the side of the mountain, looking at the places where you might be able to get a good grip. 

It kind of reminds you of when you and Tae climbed the old apple tree while you waited for your best friend to be done with the surprise. 

"Don't look down," he had said, "Just keep looking at the sky, little bird."

Just keep looking at the sky. 

You take a deep breath, then you grab the first rocky hold, your sweaty palm closing around it as you send up a small prayer that your hands don't slip. 

The first couple of feet are bad, but not as bad as you thought they'd be, although your injured wrist is already aching deeply.

I can do this. 

"Think you could go a little faster?" He calls up to you, irritated.

"Don't antagonize me while I'm more than capable of falling onto your head," you shout back, more than fed up. 

You hear a sigh, then focus on the task ahead. 

Do not look down. 

You gulp and grab the next tiny ledge, gripping it as hard as you can as you pull yourself up. 

-

This mountain feels never-ending. 

Your arms are shaking uncontrollably as you try to breathe so you don't pass out. You're willing to bet everything that he wouldn't even think about catching you if you fell. Not to mention your left wrist is screaming at you to stop.

"You're almost there, just keep going!" He shouts in annoyance. 

You don't have the strength to answer him. 

You don't have the strength to do anything, not to move, not to look up, not to even keep holding on where you're at. You realize this in a sudden burst of panic. Your whole body is shaking with the exertion of pulling your already worn-out self up the God forsaken mountain this far. 

"I can't-"

It comes out in a breathless squeak; you aren't able to manage anything more. 

"Just grab the next ledge, stop being a fucking wuss!"

You shake your head. You're afraid that if you let go, you'll just tumble to the bottom. It's not even funny, you don't think you can hold on much longer, your body is paralyzed with fear and exhaustion and so much pain, hands locked in place as you shake. 

"Damn it all to fuckin-" 

You hear him using every curse word in the book, the sound of little stones falling as he apparently moves.

Every prayer you've ever known is being repeated in your head. You're so scared of falling, which might be what makes it happen if you can't gather yourself in a minute. 

"Lift your left hand and grab the hold a few inches to the left, can you see it?"

You chance a glance up, then nod. 

"Ok, do it now."

You gulp, "I can't, I-"

"You don't have a fucking choice, idiot. Do it."

"No, I literally cannot physically move," you whisper, "My wrist can't take any more weight."

"Try, or I'll snap your other wrist too."

You breathe out shakily. 

If you fall and snap your neck, he can't break your wrist anyway. 

Gathering your strength, you lift your left hand, your right arm shaking like a leaf as you reach up and grab the small hold. 

But once you put the smallest amount of weight into that hand, a sharp pain flares up and your wrist gives out. 

A terrified scream is the only warning he gets. 

Small stones fall haphazardly as your right arm gives out under the extra weight and you start to fall. 

"Shit-"

Your scream gets cut off when you feel a hand against your lower back, keeping you from falling backwards. You take that moment to grab onto the wall again. 

"I can't! I can't! I can't!" You're screaming, sobs clawing their way out of your throat as you cling desperately to the mountainside. 

"I know! Shut up, damn it!" He grinds his teeth, glaring up at you. 

You can't think clearly, you're so terrified that you're going to slip again. 

"Stop crying!"

JK grumbles as he maneuvers around to climb up next to you. 

When you feel his presence beside you, your nerves start to calm down. 

"Have I told you recently how useless you are?"

You shake your head, "Not in the past hour, no," you squeak out tearfully. 

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. 

"I'm going to give you a boost-"

"No, no, no, no," you whimper, "I can't."

"You have a better plan, sweetheart?"

You think for a second, then reluctantly shake your head. 

"Well alright then," he snaps, "You're only a few feet from the top. I'm gonna boost you up high enough so that you can get there, but you need to use whatever miniscule amount of strength you have to get up. Do you get it?"

You nod. 

When you feel a hand on your bottom, you gasp, "Hey!"

He pulls his hand back, "What now??"

"Why are you touching me there??"

"Where the hell else am I supposed to do it?!"

"I- I-"

"Shut up and get ready."

The demon once again places a hand on your backside, which makes your cheeks burst into flames, then he pushes you up. 

You quickly grab the closest ledge you can. 

It wasn't quite the top though. 

"Fuck." 

JK growls and climbs up all the way, then gets to his knees and leans over the edge. He sees you shaking as you hold on tightly, the look on your face not far off from that of a frightened puppy. 

"Give me your hand."

You look up to see him reaching down. 

Using the last of your strength, you grab his hand, noting how unusually cold it is. He pulls you up and onto the top of the mountain where you collapse.

You're still shaking from the adrenaline of almost falling. 

"You proved me wrong, little human."

You raise your eyes and see him panting, his hands on his hips as he looks down at you. 

"Huh?"

"I thought for sure you'd fall."

"I almost did," you say quietly, embarrassed. 

"Yeah, but you didn't."

You don't say it's only because he caught you, too surprised that he's not being mean. He's actually being kind of...dare you think it...nice.

Is this another one of his games or...?

When you lock eyes with him, he's the first to look away, his gaze dropping to the ground before he looks around. 

"Well, at least you're not completely useless," he huffs, "Not that you're useful for much though."

You bite back the smile wanting to come and stand shakily to your feet. 

"Hey, at least I'm good company."

He gives you a look before turning and walking away. 

You stumble to catch up with him, your legs feeling like cooked noodles, "Oh come on, I've seen you laugh at things I've said."

"You're psychotic," he refuses to look at you as he keeps walking briskly. 

"Wait, I can't walk that fast."

He slows down just a little, enough for you to catch up. 

You smile and limp beside him, not voicing your amusement at him subconsciously listening to your request. 

The two of you walk for a while, the jagged rocks on the mountain making it take longer. He doesn't hesitate to remind you of this as you fall behind more than a few times due to the pain in your feet. 

The air is so thick with smoke up here that you've had more than your fair share of coughing fits in just the first few minutes, your lungs quickly starting to ache. After an hour has passed, it feels like your lungs are shriveled and full of the dark smoke still surrounding you. 

You'll never admit to anyone the number of times you've thrown up already because it feels like your stomach is full to the brim with smoke. He slows down every time you're hunched over and gagging uncontrollably, but he never stops, calling a short reminder for you to hurry up.

It's so strange to see him walking without a single sign of discomfort. 

JK glances back and sees you limping in a staggered line, arms waving in front of you to try and knock the smoke away from your face. You look delirious, eyes unfocused as you trip over rocks. 

He stops when your foot catches and you fall to the ground, jagged stones digging unforgivingly into your shins. 

"Sorry- I'm sorry, I'm coming," you say hoarsely as you place your hands on the ground to stand up but end up on your hands and knees as you cough weakly. 

The sound of him walking over makes you glance up to see him standing over you.

Your eyes travel from his black boots up his dark skinny jeans covered in rips, all the way up to his unreadable expression. Then suddenly he's crouching in front of you. 

His gaze scans your dirty face, noting your eyes are red and teary from the smoke. 

"How much do you want it?" He whispers, looking into your eyes. 

You blink and wipe a dirty hand on your eyes to clear away the tears as your body quivers. 

"I want it more than anything," you whisper brokenly, staring back. 

It looks like he's trying to decide something for a moment as his eyes flicker between yours, then his jaw clenches a little and he holds his hand out. 

"Then act like it."

You stare at his hand for a moment, then you place your shaky one into it. Your hand is covered in ash and grime, a stark contrast compared to his seemingly perfect skin. 

A second passes before his grip tightens and he pulls you to your feet. 

You expect him to let go and tell you to keep walking, so you're taken by complete surprise when he starts walking while holding your hand tightly. 

"We're almost to the sixth circle," he says quietly. 

"Ok," you respond softly, eyes locked on your hands. 

"I don't understand why you're so insistent on helping someone that would put you through this," he speaks up again, confusing you further, "But if you're going to be a stubborn little bitch about it, then I'm certainly not going to watch you give up so easily. Especially in the fifth circle. You could at least have a little more class than that."

A small smile spreads on your tired face as you stumble along behind him, hand gripping his tightly. 

_________________________________

Another hour passes with him practically dragging you across the top of the mountain. 

A lump gets lodged in your throat when you see a fiery red glow in the distance that grows larger as you get closer. 

When you're as close as you can get, he stops. 

The deep red smoky essence is on the other side of a gnarled line of sharp rocks that jut out of the ground to look almost like a spine splitting the two circles, the only thing keeping you from seeing the other side. 

"The Devil's Backbone."

"Hm?" You rip your gaze from the rocks over to where he looks at you briefly. 

"That's what this place is called."

"Oh."

The name is no more comforting than the look of those rocks. 

"How-...how do we get across?"

You're acutely aware of the fact that he's no longer holding your hand, but you force yourself not to linger on that. 

"There's a path through it, but it won't be easy."

"What else is new?" You joke, voice sounding scratchy. 

He looks at you, eyes squinting as he simply observes you. 

"You're the strangest mortal I've ever met."

You shrug, "It's a gift."

JK snorts and looks back towards the Backbone, "You'll want to get some rest. Think you can survive a few hours without me?"

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Would it make sense for me to say that if I wasn't?" He sneers, but this time it makes you laugh, entirely unintentional on his part. 

"I told you; I've got other things to do besides babysit you."

You sigh and shake your head, "I guess a demon's job is never done."

He shoots you an unamused look before pointing over to a giant rock that has a flat side, a small area for you to sit and be out of the way and away from prying eyes. 

You won't argue with that. 

Walking over, you see a small burnt log sticking out of the rocks and reach down to touch it. It's warm, but not scalding, so you decide it's a decent enough place to sit for a while. 

You take a seat carefully, then look up in surprise when you see the small floating fire a few feet in front of you. He always seems to make it when you aren't looking.

"Not that you need more smoke," he mumbles uncertainly, "But it gets a little chilly sometimes."

You watch him as he looks around aimlessly. 

Then he shakes his head, a scowl forming as he kicks a blackened rock, "Or don't use it, I don't really give a fuck. Just- just try not to cause any trouble. You're hopeless on your own."

Then he turns and stomps away. 

He walks behind a boulder, then there's nothing but silence. 

You stand up and walk over to peek behind the boulder but see nothing. There was nowhere else for him to go, so he must've disappeared into thin air. Off to steal more souls no doubt.

You swallow and walk back to your little stump, plopping yourself down onto it as you fight the tears suddenly coming. 

Letting your head hang for a second, you stare at a broken stick lying on the ground. 

"Don't look down, ____."

Tears blur your vision, the stick warping into odd shapes. 

A stabbing pain in your upper back makes you wince, a couple tears slipping out when you do. You lift your head just enough to look around and make sure he hasn't come back. 

There's no one. 

Nothing. 

You're completely and utterly alone. 

Another few tears slip out as you carefully pull your cardigan off, a pained gasp leaving you as the white feathery wings that have been tucked up for as long as you've been here finally unfurl and rest against the ground. 

You glance back and see that there are a few rips and more than a couple missing feathers. The usual gleaming pearl white is now dull and stained and caked with blood and dirt. 

"Ow," you whimper as you finally let your head drop into your dirty hands. A sob escapes you, your whole body shaking with tears as you let them all out. The ground is so blurred that you can't even see the stick anymore. 

The pain radiating through you is debilitating. Eventually you can't even stay perched on the stump and slowly sink to the ground, your wings curling around you in an attempt at comfort. 

Your body is failing you no matter how hard you fight it. 

Just keep looking at the sky, little bird.

Another sob rips through you as you clutch at your aching heart, your feet tucked up under your torn skirt.

You force yourself to turn your head and look up but see nothing apart from thick suffocating smoke covering every inch of the sky. 

You don't belong here.

Even as you lay on the ground unmoving, you can feel the life draining from you. 

As it has since you stepped foot into this place. As it will continue to until you can get out.

For an angel can only survive so long in Hell. 

________________________

a/n: tysm for reading babiesssssss

Tag list; @kookxin @butterymin @telepathytae @kooliv @highoffbaddecisions @meanum @smitssharon02 @kmpac @ggukkieland @jjanjankook @sugaslittlekookies @hobispriteu1306 @kimchibrat @slowlydeliciousjiminie @screamertannie @i-dont-give-a-fok @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @ohyeahjk @babycandy111 @ttipa @ggukcanim @era-genius @katlumiiine @xmochiloverx @sopikooo @berryonasummerevening @jamlessstars @bangtannie7 @idkjustlovingbts @iftheworldiswritten @nuttykittypainter @geniejunn @mal99 @ane102 @mrswang17 @jeonssme @ashbxnny

if your name is not clickable pls check your settings babies

—chapter eighteen: my tears ricochet

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, smut

word count: 1.7k

summary:  once he’s gone and you’re alone in the empty apartment, your tears ricochet again.

previous || next

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re in love with me?”

Jungkook’s words pierce the silence between you like an arrow cutting through the air. It strikes you right in the heart, robbing you of breath. You stare at him, wide-eyed, but no sound leaves your mouth.

Keep reading

Feeling in Chaos - Summer Interlude | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f)reader | Yoongi x (f)reader

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 14,923

Summary: Figuring out how to live after the car crash that took your brother’s life is anything but easy. Friendships are broken. Relationships are fragile. And the thing you loved most seems impossible.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of a major character’s death. Nightmares. Panic attacks, PTSD, and a deep dive into mental illness and the different ways to of grieving. Use of medication (not in a bad way). Mentions of/allusions to self-harm, she's not actively harming herself, it's explained in the chapter, I promise I would never write anything like that. Very brief smut including penetration and orgasm. More smut in the next chapter. Alcohol. Jealousy, anger, Ryujin is a mess but please don’t hate her.

Rating: M / 18+ 

AN: We’re here! At the beginning of the various plot lines! How exciting! I know I’ve stated it everywhere but, obligatory mention that this series is a bit heavy. and again, in no way is it meant to glorify or romanticize mental illness, death, the grieving process, or anything of the sort. Absolutely not. This chapter is the immediate aftermath of the crash as well as the start of the present day. The sections switch back and forth between the present and past. I hope it flows well. 😅 and again, these characters are flawed and broken. Please keep that in mind. 💜

Thank you @playmetheclassics for beta-reading and being amazing. I love you 😘

If you would like to be added to the Taglist: Click Here

and as usual, please leave feedback. Either with a reblog or send me an ask. It’s greatly appreciated. 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AskBox | Coffee?

“Ms. y/l/n? You can go in now.”

Your head pops up, looking toward the secretary with a sympathetic forced smile. 

She knows. 

They all do. 

Everyone you’ve interacted with in the last month and a half knows and has given you the same smile and said the same three lines. 

I’m so sorry for your loss. 

You’ll get through this. 

Let me know if you need anything. 

They’re not really sorry because they don’t know you. You won’t get through this. What you need is your brother. But you say nothing in response and just quietly nod your head or return their stupid sympathetic smiles and say thank you. 

You get up, gripping your bag as you open the door that leads into the room you’ve grown to hate. Bookshelves line the walls with various books discussing psychology and the various ways to diagnose and treat the brain. There are two couches facing one another in the center of the room with end tables on either side of both. One has tissues on both sides. The other has a decorative plant on one and the notepad on the other. The room is beautifully colored and smells amazing, like a field of flowers by the ocean. The windows are cracked open just enough to bring a slight breeze in, not too much to make you cold, just enough to make it less stuffy. But all this beauty and comfort doesn’t stop you from hating every inch of the place. 

“Welcome back, y/n. Have a seat, and I’ll be right there. Just need to grab your folder.” Dr. Ruby Adams, the woman you’ve grown to dislike, is too chipper for you. But again, you just silently nod and do as you're told, sitting down on the couch with the tissues on either side. A moment later, she sits on the couch across from you, grabbing the notepad and placing it on top of the opened folder on her lap. You keep your eyes trained on the folder, refusing to look at the ray of positivity and hope in the form of a person in front of you. The sound of an alarm being set starts her off. 

“Okay. Let’s begin. How was this week? Did you do anything fun?” You shake your head. 

“Did you talk to anyone new or reach out to your friends?” Again, you shake your head. 

“Did you eat today?” You hesitate, wanting to lie, but end up shaking your head.

“Did you walk here?” You freeze, feeling your palms getting clammy, and that annoying headache starts to creep in. You want to lie. You want to pretend that everything is fine and you don’t need to be here. But as much as you don’t like her, she’s kind, and she doesn’t pity you. She doesn’t give you that fake smile or say those fake lines. So, you take a deep breath, force yourself to focus, and nod.

“Did you actually try getting on the bus this time? Or getting a rideshare?”

“...I can’t.” Your hands find one another, thumb pressing the space between your other thumb and index finger.

“Remind me, what happens when you do, y/n? Walk me through it again, step by step.” You hate this part. She does it every week. Forces you to relive the most painful moments over and over and over until you can’t breathe and finally feel again. 

“It’s…it’s like a jolt of electricity going up my spine”, you pause, putting yourself back in the situation you’ve been through many times now. “I can’t move anymore; if I do, I can’t control it. It feels like my body is on fire, but I’m freezing at the same time. I can hear everything and nothing. My heart is pounding, but it's frozen. My vision is blurry and darkening fast. I can’t breathe, and…” you’re spewing the words so fast, you don’t even realize where you’re going with them until now, “and all I can hear is my own voice…shouting his name, hearing the crunch of metal, the glass shattering, the car horn…it all just replays on a loop over and over and over until my vision is gone and I’m on the floor screaming.” 

Your eyes are still locked on the folder, but you can’t see it anymore, blurred by your silent tears. You barely hear the woman in front of you until her tone changes from the kind and chipper you loathe to the stern and demanding one you’ve yet to decide on hating or not. 

“Y/n. Let go of your hand.” You finally blink, and your eyes finally meet hers. Though she has a stern tone, her eyes are full of concern and worry as she uses them to gesture to your hand, and your mouth opens in a small panic. 

You’ve been scraping the back of your left hand between your thumb and index finger for who knows how long, and you’ve almost broken the skin. It’s just a red splotch that is sure to burn later. You stretch out your fingers and grab the cushions on either side of you as a form of distraction.

“How long have you been hurting yourself, y/n?” You shake your head, your eyes shut tight in defense.

“No, no, I’m not…I’m not doing it on purpose. I don’t even notice when I do it…I didn’t…just now…I didn’t…” your voice trails off, and you feel that sense of panic creeping in again. It’s like an ice-cold  tightness that wraps around your lungs and creeps up to your heart the longer you feel like you go without oxygen. 

“So you’re doing it subconsciously?”

“I guess…”

“Do you know why you do it subconsciously, y/n?” You shake your head, trying to focus on her voice and only her voice. “Can I take a guess?” You shrug, looking anywhere else but in her direction. 

“You do it because you’re afraid of losing yourself to the fear. You’re so afraid that you'll cease to exist if you don’t feel something. So your subconscious does only what it thinks it can do and inflicts pain. Does that sound right?”

You meekly nod.

“Have you tried painting again?” Your eyes find hers again, and you shake your head. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

“But you’re talented, y/n. You know you are. Everyone around you knows you are. Kai knew you were.”

“Don’t.” your voice seethes. “Don’t say his name. You didn’t know him.” 

There it is. That pain inside your heart is on the verge of snapping every day. Sometimes it does, and you lose the ability to think rationally. Sometimes, you’re able to keep it together, think your emotions through and reason with the fear until you feel safe again. It’s fragile, like the most delicate and worn-down violin string. One wrong touch, and it breaks. 

“Okay. I won’t say his name, not yet. But y/n, that’s why you’re here, right? What you’ve been through is a lot. It’s more than anyone should have to go through. You have PTSD, developed from a drunk driver crashing into your brother’s car and killing him on impact. You and your friend survived, and you are reliving it every day. It is my job to help you cope with that trauma. But I cannot do that if you don’t work with me.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to. Maybe I want to suffer because it’s what I deserve.”

“It is not what you deserve, y/n.”

Snap

“YES, IT IS!” you scream, standing up. “I am the reason he’s gone. I am the reason Ryujin is heartbroken and a mess. I’m the reason Jungkook…” you stop yourself, taking a breath instead. “I’m the reason why my parents can’t stand to look at me. It’s me. I did this. I went to the club. I fought with my best friend. I made my brother come get me. I’m why he’s DEAD!” 

There are tears streaming down your face, but you don’t feel them. Your heart is ready to burst out of your chest, blood pulsing in your ears, but you hear none of it. Your body is shaking with self-hatred, but you feel nothing.

“What about the drunk driver? Was his decision to drive while drunk also your fault?” her voice remains calm, and you hate it. You don’t know why you want someone to yell back at you so badly, but you do. And the fact that she won’t pisses you off.

“No. But everything leading up to that moment is.” 

“Then, in the end, it’s not your fault. It’s the driver’s fault. Someone else might have died because of that driver if it wasn't your brother. And that driver is currently serving his punishment in jail for the next few years because he is the one that killed your brother, y/n. Not you.” 

You don’t respond. You never do when you get to this point. She’s right. You know that she’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. It’d be easier to put the blame on the drunk driver, so much easier. But you can’t. You sit back down and finally take a breath. 

“But everything leading up to that moment…that’s on me…” 

“Maybe so. But then it’s also on your brother for coming to get you. It’s on your friend ignoring your calls and your girlfriend breaking up with you. By your definition, everyone, including your brother, is to blame for his death.” 

And just like that, a bell dings, signifying that the appointment is done. She turns it off, setting the folder and notebook aside to sit forward, grabbing your shaking hands. 

“Paint, y/n. If not for you, do it for him. You go back to school next week, don’t you? Your last year?” You nod, grabbing at the tissues and trying to put yourself back together. “Keep the memory of him alive with your art, not with your self-loathing and pain. From the little bits you have been able to tell me about him, he sounds like the type of person that would hate it if he saw you like this. Live your life like he’s there right next to you, supporting you and loving you.” 

You nod, leaving the room to pay for the appointment and schedule the next one, trying not to cry the entire time. You hate this, hate that this is your life now, hate that you can’t call any of the people you want to because you ruined everything.

Ryujin’s hand grips yours tight in the ambulance. Neither of you speaks nor looks at one another as the paramedic begins taking down your information and informing your best friend what’s going to happen when they get to the hospital. You tune it all out, wanting to force this night away, to wake up from this nightmare. But it doesn’t happen. You’re still strapped to a stretcher, holding hands with the only person to understand how horrifically shattered your heart is right now. 

When you arrive at the hospital, everything is seamless. You’re unloaded from the ambulance. A nurse comes to take Ryujin to the waiting room where Jungkook is already waiting. You’re pushed into the emergency room, where they find you a space, and nurses begin helping you change into a hospital gown and get you hooked up to an IV. Once you’re all hooked up and changed, your bed is pushed away to various freezing cold rooms where they take x-rays and scan your brain for any injuries. 

Shockingly, everything comes up negative, but they insist on keeping you overnight to make sure there are no delayed concussion signs. When you’re finally in a room for the night, they allow Jungkook to come in, Ryujin slowly following behind. After what feels like days of not speaking, one of you finally does. 

“Hey.” Jungkook’s voice is broken as if he’s been crying enough for both of you. You nod, letting out a quiet hey in response. “They said you’re not broken or concussed, so that’s good, right?” His hand reaches for yours. 

Jungkook, always trying to find the bright side. Too bad there isn’t one for this. 

Again, you nod, pulling your hand away from his and staring down at it. 

“He’s gone, Jungkook. There is no ‘that’s good’ side of things.” Knowing you’d falter and cry in his arms, you won't look at him. The fear that if you cry, you won’t stop. Instead, you see Ryunjin gripping the handle at the foot of the bed, knuckles white. Your eyes look up to find hers; finally, for the first time since they picked you up from outside the club, her eyes meet yours. 

And they’re angry. 

“Ry…” you start but fail to continue when you realize you don’t even know where to begin. Unfortunately, she was ready. 

“You should’ve stayed home.” 

“I- ”

“If you had stayed home this wouldn’t have happened. If you had just fucking listened to me, the love of my life wouldn’t be dead.” Her arms cross as she continues glaring daggers into you. You don’t argue back because she’s right.

“What the hell, Ry?” Jungkook’s voice raises as he faces her. “Don’t forget that Kai’s her brother.”

“So? If she loved him as much as I did, she wouldn’t have called him in the first place, knowing full well how dangerous driving that late is.” Her eyes stay on you the entire time, almost enjoying watching you crumble. 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Ry. She can’t predict a fucking drunk driver.” 

“She could’ve taken an Uber home.” 

“And what, get the driver killed? Since that seems to be your bullshit logic. Or is it because it’s someone we don’t know that you wouldn’t have cared?” 

“Stop defending her because you lo- ”

“I’m sorry.” You force it out loud enough to stop them both. 

Silence. You take a shaky breath, eyes wandering to the blanket keeping you warm. 

“She’s right, Jungkook. This is my fault. I should’ve taken an Uber or found another way home. Instead, I put all three of us in danger and got my brother killed.” You don’t cry. You can’t anymore. You’re too exhausted. Your eyes hesitantly lift to meet your best friend who’s looking down on you like you were the drunk driver. 

“Sorry doesn’t bring him back. Don’t fucking talk to me ever again.” Are the last spew of venomous words she gives you as she storms out. 

You watch the door close. Part of you is heartbroken the friendship might be over, but the other part hoping and praying Kai walks in with her, and this is all just a horrible nightmare. Jungkook’s hand falls on your back, and it’s like a memory of prior to the crash flashes before you. 

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” You ask, trying not to sound accusatory. 

“What?” 

“I sent you a text. I called you. So many times. You didn’t answer. Instead, Kai did, and he was already on the way. So you knew I was calling, knew why I was calling, and chose to ignore me and send Kai. Why?” You finally look up at him for the first time tonight. He’s tired, but the adrenaline from the panic keeps him wide awake. 

“…what?”

“You know what I’m asking you, Jungkook. I know you said never to call again, but you never mean it. You’re always there…always. And the one time you’re not, my brother died.”

“You can’t be fucking serious right now, y/n.”

Your silence just confirms it for him. He scoffs, backing away from you. 

“Do you know how fucking hard it was not to answer the phone when you called? How much it hurt to call Kai and ask him to get you because I couldn’t?”

“No. Because you could have just answered the call.” Your voice is flat, but you’re on the verge of screaming. You’re not prepared for the two hands suddenly holding your face, positioning it to lock eyes with him. 

“I was done with you breaking my fucking heart over and over again, y/n. I couldn’t fucking allow myself to be caught in your fucking cycle anymore.” The tears are escaping his beautiful brown Bambi eyes, his chest unsteady and rapid from trying to keep quiet while baring his entire heart to you in two sentences. 

Any other time, you’d be wrapping your arms around him, forcing him to cuddle with you, trying to steady his breathing. Maybe finally kiss him and confess back. But feeling anything for you is nonexistent now. 

“Good. Hate me. You’re an idiot for ever wanting me to begin with.” You try pulling your face away, looking anywhere else but at the pain in his eyes. But his grip just tightens around you, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I am an idiot. Because that’s the problem, I can’t fucking hate you. I’ve tried, y/n. So many times. And somehow, I always end up here. And I’m going to be kicking myself every day for the rest of my life for calling Kai instead of answering that phone. But don’t you dare fucking think I’m ever walking out of your life.”

Your silence speaks for you, saying everything you want to say, but can’t, but you know he hears it. But your weird secret conversations aren’t enough anymore. Whispering a quiet okay, he kisses your forehead and lets go of you, sighing in defeat. 

“I’m going to check on Ry, get you a change of clothes, and wait until they discharge you so I can bring you home. We’ll figure this out, and we’ll get through this, y/n. We always do. Try to get some sleep.” You give up, nodding as he places your cracked phone on the bedside table with a charger. 

“Text me if you need me. I promise I’ll answer.”

He finally leaves, and not even five minutes after the door closes, you feel it for the first time. The sudden panic, the fear, everything around you is closing in on you, and you can’t breathe. After hours and hours, you finally lose it. Screaming into the weak hospital pillow, physically shaking and sobbing hysterically as the nurses rush in to check on you. When they ask what’s wrong, you can only scream back amongst your shallow gasps. 

“Make it stop, please. Make the pain stop!”

Amongst your screams, you barely notice the head nurse coming in with a needle and inserting something into your IV. It takes two minutes before you feel like a zombie and five more before falling asleep, tears still escaping your eyes. 

You quietly drag yourself out of the office building, finally letting out a big sigh. You jump when you hear a deep voice next to you. 

“Made it out alive this time?” 

“What the fuck, Yoongi?! You should know better than to scare me like that!” You turn to face the gorgeous man that once upon a time, you would’ve run to your group screaming about love at first sight.

You met Yoongi in the group therapy you were being forced to take by the woman upstairs. He lost his fourteen-year-old  sister, but he still hasn’t been able to talk about how. You never asked and felt it was better that way for you both. 

“I’m sorry, love. I forgot you did that zoning out thing.” 

“I wasn’t doing that zoning out thing. And stop calling me love.”

“No can do, love.” He smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I'm afraid the nickname has stuck.” 

“It’s only stuck because you keep saying it. Maybe it'd be easily replaced if you said my actual name more often.”

“Nah. Don’t think so.” You both walk down the street, his arm still around your shoulders and your arms around your waist, bag clutched to your chest. 

You don’t hate Yoongi. You don’t actually mind the pet name, either. You just hate how you met him. Hate the circumstances in which he came into your life. Hate that you know Kai would’ve liked him, Ryujin might actually think he’s okay, and Jungkook could maybe tolerate him. But it doesn’t matter now. The sQuad is done, and you no longer crave love and validation. You don’t deserve it. Maybe you never did. 

“What were you even doing there anyway?” You ask as he guides you to a convenience store a few buildings down. 

“You have Dr. Adams, right? I have Dr. Harris. Lovely old lady. But probably in need of retirement soon. Saw you as I was heading into my appointment and waited for you after. Here, pick out something. I know you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble, eyeing the instant ramen and bags of chips. He follows your line of sight and grabs whatever he thinks you’re looking at, patting your head.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You walk everywhere, and you’re wasting away to nothing. So eat. Preferably something with protein. You need it.”

You roll your eyes, walking past him and grabbing a protein drink, water, and an energy drink. You shove all three into his arms, ignoring his smug smile as you grab the actual pack of ramen and chips you were looking at and pile them on top of the drinks.

“If you insist I eat, then I will eat, love.” In your mind, you sound threatening, but in reality, you sound anything but. Yoongi grins at the mocking pet name.

You enter another aisle, hearing a confident “that’s my girl,” followed by a chuckle coming from the annoying man holding all the food without complaint as he follows you aisle to aisle. When you finally reach the counter, he lets go of your findings for the cashier to scan. You try to fight with Yoongi on who should pay, but he’s able to insert his card before you can do anything, declining the receipt and grabbing the bags of food. 

You follow him out of the store, grumbling about letting you at least pay him back. He jokingly bickers back with you when there’s a sudden screech of tires a block over, causing your bickering conversation to come to a halt. 

Dread.

Panic.

Not again.

All you see are the headlights. All you hear is yourself screaming Kai’s name. The sound of the crunching metal. You look down, and his hand is being taken away from yours. His body is slumped over, lifeless. Please, wake up. I need you. Replaying over and over and over. You can’t breathe, you can’t see, and you can’t feel anything except pain and fear. 

“It’s okay. It’s not real. It’s in your head. You’re okay, you’re safe.” A voice is whispering in your ear, and it takes you a while to recognize the voice as Yoongi’s. He’s dropped the bags to the floor, rushing to wrap his entire body around you, tucking your face into his neck, hands holding your torso and head as close as physically possible. Your hands are gripping the back of his shirt as if your life depends on it, and you’re sobbing into his neck. His hand is on your back pressing at the center every time you start to heave. 

He keeps you close until he can feel your breathing even out, loosening his grip on you so you can pull away when you’re ready. When you finally do, his hands find your face, shoving away any tears with his thumbs, your own hand reaching up to wipe away the embarrassing snot that you know he sees but chooses to ignore. 

“Talk to me, y/n. Where are you right now?” You take a deep breath, your eyes finding his own. 

“On the corner of third and main…?”

“Good, good. Keep going, love, keep talking.”

“Uhm, we were just…I just had my appointment. She told me to paint, but I don’t want to. She said it’s not my fault. Then we went to the store, and you bought me food,” your eyes move to the bags on the pavement, “Ah shit, it’s on the floor.” You try to bend down to start picking it up, but Yoongi grabs your shoulders, forcing you to stay standing. 

“Leave it for right now, you’re distracting yourself.” He watches you try to find something else to focus on and shakes you, forcing you to look at him again. “Focus, y/n. What happened next?”

“Please… ” your eyes well up again, begging him to let it go and move on, but he just shakes his head. “Tires a block away. I saw the crash again… I saw… ” your breath hitches, and you shut your eyes tight, fighting the tears. “Please, don’t make me say it, Yoongi. I can’t… ” 

There’s a deep sigh coming from the man in front of you before you feel lips on your forehead, making your stomach twist in a familiar but foreign feeling that you never wanted to feel again. A second later, it’s his forehead replacing his lips.

“Fine. But you’re going to have to talk it out at some point, y/n, you know that, right?”

You gently nod, letting out a shaky breath. “I will when you tell me about your sister.” 

He pulls away from you, bending down to pick up the bags, making sure nothing spilled or broke. When he stands back up, he puts both bags in one hand and grabs your left with the other. You move to jerk it away from him, but he pulls it back, knowing full well you didn’t like holding hands with anyone anymore. Either he didn’t care, or it was his way of helping you. You couldn’t decide. But you knew fighting him was pointless. 

You would've missed his quiet response if you weren’t so hyperfocused on everything Yoongi was doing. 

“It was an accident. House fire.”

“House fire? When? Were you in it too?” Your eyes widen, and any thought about your previous panic fades slowly into the back of your mind.

“Let’s leave it at that for now, please? I’m not there yet like you. Our handling of trauma is different. While you relive it every day, I’ve pushed it so far out of my mind that I’ve almost forgotten it. That’s why I have Harris, and you have Adams, different trauma specialists.”

You don’t know how to respond. You just watch his face as he tries to keep it neutral. It’s the same thing you did long before everything happened. When you’d try to compartmentalize your feelings. So you stay silent, let him hold your hand, and walk with him wherever he wants. 

You end up at his apartment, somewhere you’ve been plenty of times now, thanks to the desire to not be in the way of Ryujin’s grieving and Jungkook supporting his sister. So you’ve taken to spending most of your time locked up in your room or hiding with Yoongi, who never seemed to mind. 

But it always resulted in being in his bed.

Neither of you knows exactly when it happened in the last few weeks or why it keeps happening. There’s no real connection there beyond grieving over dead siblings. But it felt nice enough being desired by someone else that didn’t know you that you both continued. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight every time.” He growls into your ear as he buries his cock deep inside you, you only moan in response. He moves down to kiss you, and you perfectly time moving your head to the side so he lands on your neck instead. He clearly doesn’t notice your diversion and begins marking your neck. 

While he’s always so talkative in bed, you say almost nothing unless he asks you to. Instead, you stick to your moans from the pleasure he provides and never let his lips near yours. You keep telling yourself it’s better this way. Sex without feelings won’t get you hurt, not to mention it keeps your mind off everything going on. You can turn the noises off for a moment and focus on something else. You feel guilty using Yoongi like this, but you’re pretty sure he’s using you for the same reason. 

When he finally spills into the condom, he crawls off you and the bed, taking the condom off and disposing of it. He returns a moment later with a washcloth, helping you get cleaned up before finally laying next to you. 

This is the part you hate. Yoongi cuddles after sex, and you can’t stand it. But a part of you feels like it’s what he needs. Your method of coping is to push everyone away. His might be the desire to be close. So you let him have his cuddles after sex for a maximum of thirty minutes, and then you usually leave. 

This time, however, you’re too exhausted from therapy, the panic attack, and sex that you give in to that desire to be close. You don’t fight him when he pulls you closer, head resting on his chest as he lies on his back, tracing patterns across your back. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he whispers “thank you” in your hair, kissing the crown of your head with a smile. 

You smile but only for a moment, catching yourself giving in too much too easily to him. You find something else to focus on instead of his sweet touches. That’s when you see it, just above his hip, under the long baggy shirt he wears during sex for reasons you don’t ask. Your fingers gently trace over it, and you feel him tense. 

“Is this from the fire?” You softly ask, tracing it as high up as the shirt will allow you. You figure there’s more to it underneath, but you’re not about to expose him like that. You’d hate it if someone did it to you. 

His hold on you loosens, hand on your back now limp on the bed, the other on his chest near your face. 

“…yeah.” That is all he can bring himself to say, and it clicks for you that he’s been through the same horrific moment as you. Watching your younger sibling die in front of you and being too helpless to do anything about it, failing to protect them. 

“You were with her?” Your hand covers the part of the scar you have access to, applying subtle pressure as he whispers another confirmation. You nod in response, covering the scar back up with his shirt, and tilting your head up to kiss his neck. “I’ll stop asking. I’m sorry.” You whisper against his skin, his hands returning to your back and arm. 

“It’s okay. You were going to see it at some point…” his voice is soft and gentle, but you can still hear the fear mixed in there. 

You crawl higher up his body to dig your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, needing somewhere to hide your emotions. The hand on your back slides to your waist, and the other buries itself into your hair, holding you close. You stay completely silent for a moment, realizing you’ve been cuddling longer than the usual thirty minutes. 

“I should go.” You whisper, pulling yourself out of his arms.

“You could stay…” he keeps one hand still touching your back as you sit up on the side of the bed, hoping the small traces will make you come back. You just shake your head, grab your clothes scattered across the room and start getting dressed. 

“I have to. I have to make sure Ry’s okay, and Jungkook will send out a missing person’s report and a search party if he doesn’t hear from me.” You open the door to his room, finding your pants just outside of it. Yoongi follows, boxers already back on. 

“Just charge your phone here. Give him a quick call and have him check on his sister.”

“Yoongi…” you can feel where this is going. Fuck. This is why it shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes. 

“It’s late out anyway. I’m not having you walk all the way home at this hour.” He also knows where this is going. You’re going to reject him again. But he’s okay with that. You two are a work in progress. He’s willing to wait it out as long as needed. Which is why he finds your shirt on the couch before you do and hands it to you. 

“I can’t, Yoongi.” You put the shirt on. “We shouldn’t be doing this in the first place. We’re in group therapy together. That should be it.” You make quick with the speech you’ve said before, grabbing your purse and heading for the door when he grabs your wrist.  

“Then let me walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you’re safe. We’re friends, y/n. In therapy and out of it. Let me make sure my friend is safe.” His eyes are begging you to just change your mind and stay, but you have to ignore it. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you. 

“Okay. But you have to text me the second you get back here, okay?” He smiles, agreeing quickly and grabbing a jacket as well as one of his larger sweaters for you to wear. You reluctantly put it on as you leave. 

Halfway through the walk, Yoongi grabs your hand again, claiming to want to keep you safe since there were weird people out at night. You both bicker back and forth about who could knock someone out faster, small giggles coming from both of you as you approach your apartment building. 

“Y/n?”

You look up towards the voice, seeing Jungkook sitting on the stairs outside the front door. He has a duffle bag next to him and his pillow in his arms. His eyes are set on your hand in Yoongi’s.

“Jungkook? How long have you been out here?” You ask quickly, pulling your hand away from the man next to you and stepping slightly to the side.

“Not long…who’s this?” His eyes meet Yoongi, and you can see his jaw lock into place.

“This is Yoongi. He’s from group therapy. And our doctors for individual therapy are in the same building, so we were hanging out.” You sigh, turning to Yoongi and gesturing to Jungkook. “This is Jungkook. He’s Ryujin’s brother…Kai’s best friend.” 

“And yours.” The man on the stairs adds. You briefly close your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“And mine.” You whisper it softly, and Jungkook gives a small smile to Yoongi. Yoongi nods, stuffing both hands into his jacket awkwardly. 

“Okay, well…nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m going to head home now, y/n. I’ll text you when I get back, okay?”

“Okay. You can wait here for an Uber if you want. I’ll wait with you.”

“Nah, you’ve made me enjoy walking. I’ll see you at the next meeting, love.” He quickly goes in for a kiss on the cheek, smirking at your shocked expression. He turns to nod again at Jungkook and walks away. It’s not until he turns the corner that Jungkook finally speaks.

“So, are you two together?” You turn back to him, eyes wide, and shake your head.

“No. He’s just from group therapy. I guess he’s a friend now. But that’s it.” Jungkook lets out a small scoff, mindlessly playing with the strap of the bag. 

“Just friends. Sure.” He shakes his head, willing the urge to argue away. “Ry’s on one of her benders again. Came here to see if you wanted to stay at my place to avoid her terror.”

As much as you would, the idea of being so close to Kai’s untouched room makes you nauseous. So you shake your head as Jungkook stands, draping the duffle bag strap on his shoulder.

“I figured that. So I’m staying with both of you to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“She’s hurt, Jungkook. It’s natural to act out and blame the person closest to you. It’s not like the blame is being misplaced, anyway.” You mumble the last part, opening the door and heading into the elevator with him. 

“We’re not doing the blame game again, y/n. Don’t even start.” He grabs your hand, and you flinch, having to fight the urge to pull away and upset him.

It’s a bit ridiculous that you have to sneak into your apartment sometimes, but you tell yourself it’s better than moving out and not being able to afford a place yourself. Or subjecting her to the same issue. 

Jungkook enters the apartment first, making sure his sister is still in her room before sneaking you to your room, quietly closing your door behind you as Jungkook goes back downstairs to the kitchen. You get everything ready to sneak into the bathroom once Jungkook is in Ryujin’s room with water and food to try to sober her up. 

You take the fastest shower, getting out quickly and wrapping yourself in a towel when there’s a slamming on the bathroom door. You sigh, waiting for the venomous words. 

“Y/n! I know you’re in there, you fucking murderer! I told you not to come home!” 

“I have to come home, Ry. I can’t go anywhere else…” You know arguing back is a waste of time and effort, but you still try. 

She continues yelling vile accusations at you that you’ve now heard more times than you’d ever admit. You eventually curl up into a ball against the tub, crying and staring at the bottle of Ativan on the counter. You hate taking it, hate how dead inside you feel when you take it. But you’re so tired of crying, of feeling. It often seems like the only option. You shove the pill you took from it down your throat, tuck your head between your knees, and cry harder as your best friend continues banging on the door. 

After what feels like an eternity, you hear Jungkook finally manage to stop his sister, bringing her back to her room. There’s a moment of silence before a soft knock on the door, and you have to force yourself to get up to open the door. 

“Y/n…” he whispers, taking in your tear-stained cheeks and sleepy eyes. He spots the bottle on the counter and sighs. You shake your head, stopping him from continuing his sentence and force yourself into his arms. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you bury your face into his neck, crying more. His hands reposition you so he can pick you up bridal style, making sure your towel is tightly wrapped around you first. 

“Let’s get you to bed, baby.” He whispers it so softly against your hair it makes you want to cry more. You know being in his arms like this is wrong. You know you’re giving him false hope. You know letting him use the pet names with you is adding fuel to the fire. But he’s your safety blanket, and you can’t let it go. The thought of it terrifies you too much. 

He brings you to your room, locks the door behind him, and sets you down on your bed. He grabs your pile of pajamas you meant to bring to the bathroom with you and lays each item out individually. Your bra and underwear first, followed by a shirt you stole from Kai years ago, pajamas shorts, and your favorite fuzzy socks. 

He’s seen you naked before a few times, but never without your consent or knowledge. He has to persuade you to wake up enough to at least get your bra and underwear on yourself, turning around to give you privacy. When you finally manage it, you sit back down, tapping his lower back to let him know you’re done. 

He sighs when he turns back, trying to avoid looking where he’s not allowed and rushes to get the shirt on you, making you work with him by raising your arms up. The shorts are a bit of a battle, but you eventually get fed up with his hesitation to touch you “incorrectly” and fumble to do it yourself. You manage to get the socks on solo while he pulls your blankets back, allowing you to crawl in, and tucks you under the blankets.

You subconsciously grab his hand, tucking it under your chin as you get comfy. He sits beside you, tucking your hair back and smiling sadly. 

“You and that Yoongi guy really aren’t a thing?” He feels like an idiot for asking. He should just accept your word and leave it at that, but he can’t. He’s jealous and hates it. You looked so comfortable holding his hand. You let him kiss your cheek, you wore his hoodie, and you giggled. That’s a sound he hasn’t heard since before the crash. There had to be something there. He couldn’t let it go. 

Fortunately for him, Ativan not only makes you feel like a zombie but lying feels like too much of an effort for you. So you shake your head.

“We just have sex. No kissing. No feelings. Just sex.” You mumble, trying to keep your eyes open and on him. 

“I could be that for you…” he whispers, his free hand using his thumb to caress your cheek. You shake your head into your pillow. 

“No. Too many feelings. It would never be just sex with you. I’d hurt you, break your heart… more than I already have.”

“I could turn it off, turn the feelings off.” He lets out a light laugh before shaking his head and looking away. “I just want you to feel better, y/n, to see you be happy again…” his voice trails off, looking back to gauge your reaction. But there’s no response. You’ve already fallen asleep. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, squeezing the hand under your chin and close to your heart, resting his forehead on your temple. 

“Just let me in, y/n. You’re right there sometimes. I can feel it. But you keep putting up these walls. Please.” His pleas are quiet whispers as he hesitantly places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips.

You don’t feel the silent tears hit your cheek or the thumb that wipes them away. You don’t hear the shaky breaths as he takes his hand away from you, replacing it with Bubba, or feel him getting off the bed to leave your room. You just sink further into your medicated forced slumber as he closes your door, heading downstairs to sleep on the couch. 

You’re walking down an empty street in the middle of the night. There’s not a single person around, not even any cars. There’s no wind, and no real weather, yet you have an unnerving chill running down your spine. 

You’re admiring the empty street when you hear it. Tires screeching, the loud shriek of a familiar voice, and the crunch of metal.

No.

You run down the street, turning the corner, and your breath’s gone in an instant, heart dropping to the floor. 

Your brother’s car is wrapped around the giant truck. You see yourself in the car, screaming at Kai to wake up. The paramedics take Ryujin out first. Another pair working to pull the drunk driver out of his truck. 

You look around in a panic. People are watching in horror, but their faces are blurry and the words are gibberish. 

“NO! That’s my brother! I need to wake him up!”

You turn to the sound of your voice and watch as they pull you away from Kai’s body. You scream, dropping to the street, pulling at your hair. 

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Wake up. Please wake up. 

A pair of legs appear beside you. You look up, terrified to find out if he’s real or not. 

“Jungkook?” You ask hesitantly. He doesn’t respond, instead running to his sister to check on her. You cry out, sinking your head into your hands, quietly begging to wake up. 

You hear the ambulance with you in it leave. Hear Jungkook’s car turn on. It has to end now. It can’t keep going. Please let me wake up. 

“Y/n.” Your head snaps up faster than ever at the sound of the one voice you’ll never hear again. 

He’s there, sitting in front of you. A sad smile across his beautiful face. 

“Kai… ” your voice trails off, needing to take a moment to just appreciate him in front of you. “Please… don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.” 

His hand cups your cheek, and you sob at the touch that feels so real, both of yours gripping his wrist. 

“You’ll be okay, sis. I know it.” He whispers softly. Pulling his hand away, he starts to get up, but your grip on him is too strong. You pull him back down to you. 

“No. No I won’t. Please, Kai. Don’t go. Ry hates me. If not for me, come back for her. Please. Kai, don’t leave.” You cling to his jacket, refusing to let go. 

But just as quickly he had appeared, he vanished between your fingers and your head twists  and turns looking for him. That’s when you realize no one else is around. The onlookers had left. Jungkook and Ryujin left. The paramedics, the drunk, the police, everyone was gone, and you were alone. 

You scream at the top of your lungs until you’re shaken awake.

“Y/n! Wake up! It’s a nightmare. You’re okay!” The voice shouts, wrapping the familiar arms around you as you finally stop screaming, sobbing hysterically instead. You cling onto Jungkook’s arm, your face buried in his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I got you.” Jungkook holds you closer, rubbing his hand up and down your back. The nurses that had come running in watch on cautiously as he calms you down, only leaving when they feel you’re not going to start screaming again. 

“Why did he leave?” Your voice trembles against his skin, causing Jungkook to squeeze you against him, pressing his lips to your head. 

“He didn’t leave. He would never leave you. He loved you too much.” This only makes you cry more. 

Loved. 

Past tense. 

You pull away from him gently, scooting over to the side with all the tubes and needles connected to you, allowing him to get comfortable next to you. His arm wraps around your shoulder, mindlessly playing with your hair as you rest your head on his chest. You both stay silent for a while, neither sleeping but having your silent conversations that no one can hear. 

“How’s Ry?” Your voice finally breaks through, and you feel his hand still in your hair. 

“About the same as you, honestly. But it’s like she’s feeling every emotion all at once and doesn’t know which to express first. I don’t know what to do about it.” 

He sounds like the same sixteen-year-old boy that panicked when his sister was heartbroken after her first and only fight with Kai. Jungkook had been so used to seeing his big sister never worry or let him see her being sad that he was lost about how to handle it when it finally happened. He had run to you asking how to help, and you both came up with a plan to get them back together. 

Unfortunately, that’s not going to work this time. 

“She needs time, Jungkook. A lot of it, probably.” Your voice is timid like you’re unsure if what you’re saying is true. You close your eyes, listening to his breathing and heartbeat instead of the voices in your head yelling at you.

“I know…” he sighs, “I’m just scared of her spiraling. And I’m scared of you disconnecting from us…from me.” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. How would you? You can’t lie to him and say you won’t because you don’t know if you will or not. And you absolutely can’t speak for Ryujin. So you stay silent, letting his fingers massage your scalp.

“I’m sorry.” you weakly whisper. His fingers stop moving.

“What?”  

“I’m sorry,” you try again, but louder. “For everything. Not believing you about Jihyo, lying, blaming you for Kai…” your voice cracks at your brother’s name, but you force yourself to push through. “I’m sorry for not being the girl you want me to be.”

The fingers massaging your scalp tangle in your hair as he gently grips it, pulling it back to force you to look up at him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, y/n.”

“Yes, I do, I- ” He tugs lightly to silence you.

“I just want you to be you. To stop hiding behind toxic relationships and fears of not being what you think I want and just be you.”

“I don’t know how…” You would love to do that for him. Just open up, let him in, disregard every insecurity, ever anxiety and fear, and just be you for him. But everything is so ingrained into your brain that it feels physically impossible. 

You watch Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your lips, and for a moment, your eyes do the same before darting back up to his eyes, only to find him staring back at you. You both freeze, unsure of what to do. You lift your head, leaning up as he leans down when a knock on the door breaks you apart. 

You fully pull away from him, sitting straight up and not looking back at him as he just lies there in confusion. The doctor from last night, a tall older woman, opens the door and enters the room, clipboard in hand. Her eyes widen at the sight of Jungkook in the hospital bed with you. You lightly smack his leg, and he finally snaps into action, sitting up and getting out of bed as the doctor clears her throat.

“Hello, dear. Did you get any sleep last night?” she asks, opening the folder attached to your bed to match the information with her clipboard. “Ah, I see the head nurse had to give you a shot of Ativan last night due to a panic attack. Have you had one of those before that?”

You ignore how Jungkook looks at you, refusing to acknowledge that he’s hearing any of this conversation. 

“I’ve had smaller ones…but not like last night, no…”

“The smaller ones are anxiety attacks, actually. Panic and anxiety attacks are two completely different things. Anxiety attacks are more focused on specific triggers, and the fear builds up. Whereas panic attacks are more intense, can happen at any moment, and don’t need a trigger. Most people describe the feeling as dread or a never ending fear.”

“She was fine when I left, though.” Jungkook looks at the doctor, who calmly smiles at the confused boy.

“She went through a traumatic event, dear. She was probably in shock.” Her eyes move back to you. “When the body goes through something traumatic such as a car crash, it goes into what most people call ‘fight or flight’ mode. However, it’s more than that. Your body releases a powerful amount of adrenaline to focus purely on surviving. That’s where your body decides to fight or fly. However, that adrenaline increases your pain tolerance, and your brain shuts down emotionally until it wears off. When he left, and you were finally alone, the adrenaline wore off, and you were allowed to feel and process everything that happened again. Does that sound right, dear?”

You slowly nod. “But…wouldn’t that be an anxiety attack if it’s triggered?”

“Technically, yes. But in this scenario, no.” Her head shakes, her smile falters. 

“Anxiety is something that builds up and dies back down, like a wave. Panic attacks are like being hit by a train - they’re sudden and intense and hard to stop without something like meditation or medication, which is what we gave you last night. Ativan is a very strong drug, as you probably experienced last night. I’m going to prescribe you a small amount of it to use only when you don’t think you can pull yourself out of an attack. But only enough to get you by until you meet with a professional.”

“A professional?” Both you and Jungkook speak at the same time.

“Yes, y/n. What you went through last night, followed by an intense panic attack and what I’m told you were shouting at the nurses concerns me. I’m afraid you might develop post-traumatic  stress disorder and want you to seek professional mental help for it. I’ll give you a list of names of therapists I think would be good for you in your discharge papers, okay?”

You nod and give her your thanks. She wishes you well before leaving, and you barely get any time alone with Jungkook before a nurse comes in to discuss the discharge process, sending Jungkook away to meet you downstairs at the discharge area while you change into the sweats he brought you. Even though you can fully walk yourself to the car, the nurse brings you down in a wheelchair, helping you get into the passenger seat. 

It’s once you’re sitting there, your seat belt on and a door being shut, as you watch Jungkook run back around the car to get in the driver’s seat that you feel that sense of panic building up. 

Please don’t turn it on.

He turns the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, and you’re suddenly gripping the door handle. He steps on the gas to start driving out of the parking lot, and your breath starts getting ragged and your vision gets blurry as he turns onto the road. 

“Stop.” you think you say it loudly enough, but Jungkook doesn’t hear as he’s focused on the road and changing lanes. 

“Pull over.” You try again. He turns to glance at you, frozen and clutching the door handle like your life depended on it.

“You okay, y/n? What’s happening?” He tries to reach for your hand, but you smack it away.

“PULL OVER.” You don’t mean to scream, you were trying to stay calm, but you couldn’t hear anything except screeching tires and crunching metal. 

Jungkook quickly pulls off to the side of the road, and you take your seat belt off, turning to open the car door, but he grabs your arm, pulling you back in. He quickly jumps out of the car, running to your side and ripping the door open where you try pushing him aside so you can run away. The tears stream down your face as you start screaming nonsense, begging him to let you out. He just grabs both of your hands, tugging them back to him when you try pulling away again, and brings you closer to him. 

“Hey hey hey. It’s okay, y/n. You’re okay. Breathe, baby, breathe.” You shake your head but crash yourself into his arms, face disappearing into his neck again. 

“Count with me, y/n. Count to ten. Come on.” He starts off with the number one and waits for you to respond, taking it slowly until you finally reach ten, and your breath is steady, your voice stronger. 

“Better?” He quietly asks, not moving for a second, letting you decide when it’s time. You sigh against his skin, shaking your head. 

“I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I hate seeing it over and over. Seeing him over and over. I can’t do this, Koo. I can’t.” 

He’s so thankful you can’t see his face right now. He’s been trying so hard to be a rock for both you and Ryujin that he hasn’t given himself the time to process his best friend being gone. He doesn’t want to, honestly. He’s afraid of his own reaction and the emotions that will come from them. 

“I wish I could stop it for you.” He whispers, kissing the side of your head. “But until then, I can only help ease the pain. First, I need to get you home. Can I do that?” You nod against his neck, finally pulling back, letting him help you get readjusted in the seat. 

He returns to the driver’s seat, taking your hand in his and holding it close to his chest as he starts driving again, your other hand gripping the handle. You feel the panic rising every time you reach a stoplight but force yourself to focus on how Jungkook’s thumb rubs against the back of your hand. Your heart clenches when he brings your hand to his lips for a quick kiss every time the light turns green.

When you finally arrive back at the apartment, Jungkook only lets go of your hand long enough for you to get out of the car. He grabs it again the moment you both are ready to head inside. You hate that you flinch every time, and you know he notices it, but you can’t help but flash to seeing things you don’t want to see anymore when he does. 

Jungkook has you wait outside your own apartment as he sneaks inside to make sure Ryujin’s okay. He parks you at the breakfast counter when he finally lets you in. 

“Where is she? I should talk to her…” you try to get back up, but Jungkook turns from the kitchen and glares at you. You silently sit back down.  

“She’s asleep. Leave her be to figure this out, y/n.” Your lips form into a small pout, but you nod anyway. Jungkook turns back around, grabbing two bowls, your favorite cereal, and some milk. He slowly eats while you take two bites and begin moving the cereal around.

“How are you doing in all of this?” your eyes flit up to meet his questioning ones. “He’s been gone less than twenty-four hours, and you’ve been taking turns between Ry and me the entire time. How are you?”

His eyes drop back to his cereal, almost mimicking how you were pushing yours around. There’s that silent conversation where you say nothing but know exactly what he wants to say but won’t. 

“I’m still in shock, I guess. It hasn’t actually hit me. I haven’t gone home yet, so I keep thinking when I do, he’ll just be sitting on the couch waiting for me to play Halo with him or something. I don’t know. My pain is nothing compared to yours.”

“Don’t do that, Jungkook. Don’t compare who hurts more. It’s horrible for all of us. We’re all experiencing this together. Don’t hide your pain because you think I’m hurting more.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” You both freeze, his eyes widening as he continues to speak as if he has no control over the words tumbling out of his mouth. “Isn’t that what you’ve always done? Hiding your pain for the sake of others?”  

Silence. Deafening silence. 

“Y/n… I didn’t…” he panics, watching you slowly get up and push your cereal bowl away from you. “I didn’t mean it, y/n. Don’t…please, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pushing the chair into the table gently. You just have to get to your room, get to your room, and you can cry. Get to your room, and you can fall apart without someone watching. 

“Y/n? Talk to me, please.” He follows you, albeit from a safe distance, as you make your way to your room, turning to him in your doorway. 

“I’m going to go to bed.” Your voice betrays you, cracking halfway through. Jungkook steps closer to you, but you step back, hand gripping the door handle. You both turn your heads towards Ryujin’s room when you hear movement. “You should go check on your sister, Jungkook. I’m sure she needs you.”

“No, I have to make sure you’re okay,” he tries stepping closer again, but you step further back, almost closing the door. 

“Check on your sister, Jungkook.” are the final words out of your mouth as you shut the door, locking it to emphasize how serious you were about being left alone. 

You stay still until you hear him walk away and Ryujin’s door open. You rush under your blankets, clutching Bubba close to you as you sob into your pillow. That same anxiety from earlier building up again. 

You hate this. Hate that Jungkook’s right, hate that Kai’s gone, hate that Ryujin would rather you be dead, hate that you agree. You still have to call your parents and let them know their favorite child was killed, let his friends know, let the school know, and help prepare for the funeral. You also have to go through the long process of canceling bank accounts and everything else. 

You have seven weeks to do this until you have to go back to school, and all you can bring yourself to do is sleep. 

The next seven weeks pass by like a nauseating blur. You meet a psychiatrist that puts you on medication, a therapist that insists on a combination of talk therapy and exposure therapy, and a group therapist to meet people that have been through similar situations. People like Yoongi, who you have not spoken to since he walked you home and kissed you on the cheek in front of Jungkook. 

But none of that is important right now. Right now, you’re dragging yourself across campus after walking the two-and-a-half miles it takes to get to school. 

You used to complain to Ryujin when she’d make you walk to school, saying it was too far and took too long. But now that the sheer idea of being in a car or on a bus makes you sick, it’s your only option, and you’re already getting used to it.

You were instructed to meet with your counselor on the first day of the fall semester. You already know the speech that’s about to happen and want no part in it. But still, you walk into the waiting room filled with dread. Ryujin sits in a chair closest to the office door, looking up at you with a scowl for a brief second before looking back down. You nod, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the room and try to stay as silent as possible.

Being in the same room as Ryujin can only be compared to sitting on a live bomb that is triggered by weight. She'll explode with one small move, the wrong breath, anything at all. But you never know what you’ll end up with. Some days, very rarely, though, she’ll burst into tears and need you by her side. Some days she’ll leave for a few days and come back hungover and disheveled. But most days, she’ll spew her hatred of you, blame you for Kai’s death, and not stop until someone pulls her away from you. 

Today she’s silent, a bomb ready to go at any second. 

The office door opens, and a man walks out with two folders in hand.

“Ah, Ms. Jeon and Ms. Y/l/n. Please come in.”

You wait for your best friend to move first, figuring it’s safer to follow her movements from a distance. But of course, when you walk into the office, you’re forced to sit down next to her, holding your breath in case of an explosion. The counselor, Mr. Radfield sits at his desk, with two folders in front of him. 

You’re so tired of seeing folders.

“First and foremost, I want to extend my deepest condolences to you both. Losing a loved one is never easy; having to go on without them often feels pointless. So let me just say I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Ryujin lets out a subtle scoff, and you thin your lips, giving one silent nod. 

You discovered early on that there’s no proper way to respond when people give the same bullshit speech. 

Oh yes, it’s not easy. I often wish I could trade places with my dead brother. My best friend hates me, and I have trouble looking at the one person I think I could really love and who could love me back. And I constantly string him along because the thought of him with anyone else makes me sick. Everything sucks. But thanks for saying sorry for something you had no part in. I feel so much better now.

But you can’t really say any of that. Apparently, it’s rude and makes you sound insane.

Mr. Radfield clears his throat awkwardly when neither of you responds. 

“So, I know this is your last year here. And you both made the effort to complete as many units before this year, leaving you with only about two or three classes. That should help a little. That said, your professors have all been aware of the tragedy you two have experienced and are willing to work with you to make sure you graduate on time. However, it is no issue if either of you chooses to lessen your workload and graduate next year. If you decide to- ” 

“That won’t be an issue. I need to graduate this year, so I can get out of this city.” Ryujin interrupts. You flinch at the tone of her voice, knowing she really wants to get away from you.

Mr. Radfield’s mouth hangs open, eyes darting between you and Ryujin. “Oh…okay. I assume that’s the same for you, y/n?” You nod, keeping your gaze on the tiny star destroyer figure on his desk, comparing it in your mind to the one in the movies. It looks wrong, and you can’t figure out where the issue is, but you need to keep thinking about it, or you won’t make it out of this room without crying.

“Well, in that case. Your professors will each want to meet with you two to discuss what can be done to help you through this trying time. On the other hand, I would like to offer counseling  sessions for both of you if you need them. 

“No thanks.” Ryujin mumbles, arms crossed as she slumps in the chair. When Mr. Radfield’s gaze turns back to you, you shake your head.

“I have a therapist, psychiatrist, and group therapy…I’m okay. Thank you, though.” Your voice trembles, ignoring the snort coming from your best friend as you stay focused on the star destroyer. It’s the wrong color. It’s the wrong gray, and it’s missing the control tower.

Mr. Radfield nods, making small scribbles in both of your folders before closing them. “Well then, in that case, you two are free to go. Please, if either of you needs anything, or just needs  to talk, my door is always open.” 

You mumble thank you, Ryujin makes an exasperated noise, like being there was a waste of her time. She gets up to leave, and you quietly follow a second after she does. She didn’t explode that entire time, and you hate that that gives you hope. 

“Ry!” you call out once out of the office. She stops, and you quickly try to make your way to her, but she reaches into her bag, pulls out a flask and takes a swig from it as she walks away toward the bathroom. You don’t even bother trying again, head falling back as you try to keep the tears behind your eyes. You turn around and head in the opposite direction to a mandatory meeting for all seniors.

You shuffle into the huge room of students sitting amongst the rows and rows of seats and take the first seat near the back, not even paying attention to who’s sitting next to you. 

“Hey, y/n.” your head perks up to see the sad smile of one of your classmates and close friends, Joshua. You haven’t seen or spoken to him since the funeral. You didn’t even invite any of your friends, and yet he and almost everyone else showed up.

“Don’t do that.” you sigh, sitting up straight, head tilting back like earlier. You hold your backpack close to you like a shield.

“Don’t do what?”

“The sad smile, the pity party. Please. Today’s been shitty enough, and it’s only noon. I just want some part of my day to go like normal.” 

“Mmm. Okay.” He looks you up and down. “Want me to tell you why you should never wear that outfit again?”

You actually laugh. It’s weak, and a sob is bordering on the edge of it, but it’s a laugh. 

“Yes, please.” He smiles, turning fully to look at you. 

“I love the legging and giant hoodie aesthetic, especially with the combat boots. Very you. Very ‘I want no part in any of this’. Love that. But it does absolutely nothing for your figure, y/n. You have great tits and an ass I’d kill to have. Those leggings flatten that peach, and you’re drowning in that hoodie. It’s a shame.” He has a wide grin, and you loosen your grip on the bag, allowing yourself to come out of your shell for just a moment. 

“That better?”

“So much.” You nod, a smile returning to your face when you look down at your outfit. “I should probably figure out my wardrobe again…I feel like I've been wearing this for months.” 

“We should go shopping. They just opened a new store at the mall. It looks pretty good, relatively cheap too.”

“The mall?” Your face scrunches up at the thought of walking to the mall. “That’s like eight miles away…” 

“It’s okay. I can drive us.” 

He regrets it as soon as he says it, watching you physically return to your earlier position, crawling back into your shell. “Still?” He asks quietly, and you give a small nod. “What if I buy stuff and then come over, and I’ll return whatever you don’t want, which won’t happen because I have your style nailed perfectly?” 

“I’m perfectly capable of buying clothes, Joshua.”

“Oh, I know. You’re absolutely paying me back. But until you can bring yourself to get into a car or on a bus, this is the best way I can think of spending time with you again. I miss my darling.” 

You grimace at his words. You know you shut yourself off from everyone, but you didn’t think anyone would actually miss you. You felt like you were the problem in every friend group, always dealing with something that no one ever wanted to bother with. So it just made sense to step away from everyone after the funeral. Plus, you’d soon graduate and then, like Ryujin said, get the hell out of this city and find somewhere else. 

You open your mouth to respond, but a slew of professors enter the room. You pinpoint onto one with a big grin on his face. Professor Varon. You used to go on about this being your favorite professor, you’ve taken one of his classes every year, as well as selected him to be your mentor, and a lot of what you paint now is from his critiques and conversations with him about art. But you can’t bring yourself to smile back with the rest of the class as he begins his speech.

“Welcome back, everyone! I see some new faces as well as some old ones. It’s great to have everyone here! My name is Professor Varon, I am one of the heads of the Fine Arts department, and I, along with my fellow department heads, will be guiding you through your last year at this school.” 

Your favorite thing about Professor Varon is his ability to connect with each student as he speaks, especially considering his classes usually hold about fifty students. You watch as he makes eye contact with each student, even for a second, as he speaks. 

“Before you begin the first class of your last year, and seeing as you are all supposed to graduate in the spring, I have an important announcement. Every year the seniors of each department: fine arts, communication arts, fashion design, digital media, environmental design, and product design, put on a showcase just before graduation. This is required. The theme never changes, but the results are always different. What we want you to showcase is you. Who you are, who you were, who you want to be. A daunting thing to think about, I know.” He chuckles, and the room follows suit. 

You can feel the blood pounding in your head, the air slowly escaping your lungs, and the sweat dripping down your back. Your eyes immediately scan the room for Ryujin as the department heads take turns explaining the assignment.

“You must submit ten pieces to showcase. And this can be pieces you created during your time here, pieces from high school, or pieces you made just because. But, five of them must be pieces you created in your last year here.”

Five? You can’t do five. You can barely think about doing one. 

Your eyes continue scanning the room until you finally find her, and she's looking right back at you with the same panic and fear in her eyes as yours. And it suddenly hits you that she’s having the same problem.

You haven’t heard her obnoxiously loud sewing machine in the last seven weeks. You haven’t seen pieces of fabric thrown around the living room like she did when she was suddenly hit with inspiration. You haven’t received any notifications about anyone using the code to get into the studio you all purchased together. She hasn’t been doing anything, just like you. 

And as if you were asking her if she’s made anything since Kai left you both, using just your eyes from across the room, she shakes her head slowly. You shake yours back, and she drops her gaze to the floor, yours returning to the department heads up front. 

“The showcases will begin mid-January with the communication arts department, followed by digital media and then fashion design. Environmental and product design will follow, and will end with fine arts two weeks before graduation. We will be checking in with you as the year progresses, and our doors are always open should you need any advice or help.” 

The room is dismissed, and you look for Ryujin again, but she’s already stormed out of the room. It’s not until Joshua’s tapping your arm that you realize you’re still sitting, keeping everyone in your row from leaving.

You and Joshua walk into your first class together silently. Or rather, you were silent, and he was going on about what pieces he should submit. 

The classroom is massive, and there’s no organization to the chairs and canvases set up. This allows the handful of students lucky enough to join this class to choose what was more comfortable and helped their creativity better. Next to each canvas, students are placing all their painting supplies on the trays.

You find a spot near the back of the room and against the giant window displaying the campus and whip out your painting supplies, quickly organizing them, so you don’t have to touch them for too long. 

Joshua comes to place his set-up next to yours, bullshitting about the lightning being perfect in that exact place. You give a broken smile and stare out the window at the campus below, admiring the beautiful grand oak tree in the center of the quad, leaves already turning various shades of orange, red, and yellow. 

It’s always been your favorite tree on campus. You used to meet up with Kai, Ryujin, and Jungkook when none of you had classes and enjoyed a picnic of junk food under the giant tree. During midterms or finals, you’d all crowd around by the tree, trying to help one another. Ryujin would be sketching out a gorgeous dress, Jungkook editing photos on his laptop, Kai making the smallest tweaks on a design, and you playing with whatever paint medium you were being instructed to use. Last year it was watercolor, and you hated it, saying it was too messy. But Kai helped find the right consistency, so the colors didn’t run too much.

He always knew how to solve any problem.

Your mind goes quiet briefly, reliving happier moments that you’ll never get back until Professor Varon walks in from his office. 

“Hello, everyone! Welcome if you’re new. Welcome back if you’re not. Let’s just jump right into it, shall we? It’s been a few months. Let’s see where we’re at. Paint me anything. No prompt, no theme, no reference piece, nothing. Whatever you want, you have two and a half hours to just do as you do. I’ll be wandering around to get an understanding of where you’re at.” 

The class nods along, getting straight to work. Joshua immediately starts to sketch out what he wants to paint on the canvas. You sit in your spot, watching him work. It almost feels like you can see the gears in his mind turning as he plans everything out. You see it in a bunch of other classmates. Some are on their phone coming up with their own reference photos, some working on something they started earlier, and some just freehanding it. You look back at your blank canvas, sparkling white and filled with nothing. 

You feel like an imposter. The desire you used to have to pick up a brush is gone. The desire to create anything is gone. You just switch between watching everyone else create, the tree outside, and your tauntingly blank canvas. Back and forth, over and over and over again for over an hour, until there’s a tap on your shoulder, making you jump in your seat. 

“Everything okay, y/n?” Professor Varon quietly asks, and you quickly nod, trying to calm your heart rate.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just… I don’t know what to paint.” 

He watches your eyes flit between the canvas and the window, finally landing on your hands.

“I think you do…” he offers you a soft smile. “Stay after class so we can talk.” You nod, and he walks away to the next student. 

Once class ends, everyone packs up, sets their canvases aside in the next room, and heads out. You stay sitting in front of your blank canvas. Joshua offers to stay behind and wait for you, but you don’t let him, promising him you’ll be okay and you can have the wardrobe change extravaganza on a different day. 

Once everyone leaves, Professor Varon takes Joshua's chair and faces you. You both stay silent until he takes a deep breath. 

“I lost my older sister to cancer about ten years ago.” Your eyes go wide, looking up at him in shock. He ignores the expression and continues. 

“It was very quick. One day she was fine, the next day she was diagnosed, it was terminal and in the final stage. Two weeks later, we’re planning her funeral. It’s hard to explain that feeling of loss when it comes to a sibling. Especially when it’s one that you rely on or consider to be your best friend, right?” You sniffle, looking back down at your bag, wiping away any runaway tears. 

“God, it felt like my world was on an indefinite pause after she died. It didn’t feel right living on while she wasn’t here to do so with me. I didn’t take care of myself. I ignored my friends. I didn’t paint for three years because it was the thing we did together. I just didn’t want to do it without her.” You nod along slowly. 

“It feels like by continuing on with life, you’re saying you’re okay with them being gone…” you silently add. 

“Exactly. But, y/n, I want you to know that’s not true. By not continuing on, you’re doing the opposite. You’re letting the memories you created with him fade away. You’ll regret it. Yes, mourn, grieve, scream and throw things. But remember to celebrate who he was and what he meant to you and the people around you. Okay?”

You nod your head again, wiping your face with your hoodie’s sleeve, embarrassed by the amount of snot and tears on it. If he notices any of it, he says nothing. 

“Now, I know your other professors and I are supposed to work with you to help guide you through this trying time,” he uses air quotes and you snort, causing him to smile as he continues. “And I’m willing to work with you to an extent. You didn’t paint anything today, but I expect something by our next class at the end of the week, okay?” 

You open your mouth to explain why you can’t, but he cuts you off. 

“If you need a prompt or reference, paint the tree you spent my entire class staring at. In whatever medium you’d prefer. You are welcome in this room to paint whenever you’d like, or you can go to your studio, whichever brings you more comfort. Just create something for me to get an idea of where you’re at and for your brother.” 

You mumble out okay, packing your supplies back up quickly and picking the canvas up to bring with you. He lets you go without saying another word, and you frantically run to the closest bathroom, locking yourself in the biggest stall after leaving the canvas and bag of art supplies on the counter. 

You can feel the panic building in your chest, your head pounding, and your vision blurring. Your skin feels like it’s dissolving from how much your blood is boiling underneath. You’re not angry, you know you’re not angry, but all you want to do is scream at the top of your lungs and punch something. So you do. You punch the bathroom stall’s door as hard as you can, crying out in pain when your knuckles immediately turn red. 

You pull out your phone with your other hand, scrolling through your contacts until you land on his name, letting out a single sob as you press it to call. It rings and rings and rings and rings.

Heyo, this is Kai. I’m probably not answering the phone because I don’t know your number or I’m too lazy. Send a text instead, byeeee.

You wait for the beep to indicate it started recording.

“I miss you. I need you here. I can’t… I can’t do this. You’re my rock, remember? Even after you and Ry get married, move into a big house and have a few kids. Maybe I’d work it out with Jungkook…it’d stay the four of us, remember? The sQuad…” you let out another sob, trying to hold yourself together, your throbbing hand resting on your lap.

“If I could trade places with you, I’d do it. I would without hesitation. You and Ry would live happily ever after, Jungkook would find someone perfect, and you’d be fine without me. All of you would. But we are just broken and lost without you. Please…let me just wake up, and that this is all a nightmare. I need you. Plea- ” 

You’ve reached the end of the recording time limit. Goodbye.

You bring the phone away from your face, watching the call screen fade away. You let out a few more cries before finally pulling yourself together, putting your phone in your bag and exiting the stall and the bathroom, your bruising hand holding just the canvas while the other holds everything else. 

The next few days are almost the same, meeting with your other two professors that give the fake I’m sorry for your loss and I’m here for you speeches. The only positive side is your other two classes don’t require you to create, only to discuss or explain art, something you can bullshit in your sleep. 

Your schedule is the opposite of Ryujin’s, so avoiding the risk of her explosions is easier. And Jungkook walks you home at night even though you tell him you’re fine. 

Yoongi spends the week texting you random pictures of cats at the cat cafe he works at and asks when he can see you outside of group therapy on Saturday. You ignore the texts as they’re usually sent when you’re curled up against Jungkook, who stays at your place more than he does his own apartment. 

You’re not sure how to explain you and Jungkook to anyone anymore, especially to yourself. You both know there are feelings there, his being more obvious than yours, and you both know that the ball has been placed in your court more times than you’d like to admit. But the relationship feels fragile, as if one wrong move or one oddly worded sentence could ruin it. 

So you keep the ball close to your heart, taking it agonizingly slow with everything going on. And he lets you. He lets you use him when you need someone close by. He lets you push him away when you need space. He lets you string him along, and you hate it. The guilt you feel after every smile makes you want to push him away forever, so that he can be free from your emotional torture. 

But every time you try, you crave his proximity. You crave his arms around you, his kind whispers, his stupid jokes and his sweet Bambi eyes, holding the entire universe in them. So you pull him back in for your own selfish greed, hoping one day he’ll get sick of you and leave.

You spend a few hours every day in Professor Varon’s classroom, trying to paint the fall colored oak tree. You manage to get the sketch down but that takes you two days and leaves you exhausted for the rest of the day. 

The next class is on Friday afternoon. It’s Thursday evening, and you still have nothing but the sketch. Professor Varon walks into his empty classroom, empty save for you in your usual spot by the window. He ignores you for ten minutes, getting all of his stuff organized before the next class.

“How’s the progress?” he asks, hands in pockets as he somewhat cautiously walks over. You let out a shaky sigh as he peers over your shoulder to find nothing but a rough sketch of a tree.

“I’m trying…” your head lowers, looking back at the tree, “It’s like I can’t see the colors. I know they’re there…they’re right fucking there. But then I look back at the paint and it’s all black and gray, various shades of nothingness.” You run the clean paintbrush over your bruised knuckles, focusing on the soft bristles. You find it keeps you calm, having something soft touching you. It also distracts you from scratching the back of your hand when you’re stressed. 

Professor Varon stays silent for a moment, looking down at the paint. He can see the colors, the varying oranges, reds, and yellows. They all match the tree outside perfectly. But he understands what you’re saying, having been unable to see them himself for three years. 

“Then don’t try to match the paint to the tree.” You look up at him, confused. 

You spent your life always making the colors match. Realism was your thing. You were so stuck in making sure everything was what it was supposed to be. Even in games like Mario Kart, you had to match the kart to the character or you’d be anxious and wouldn’t want to play anymore. Everything had an order. You hated chaos. Not matching the colors was chaos. 

“I can’t do that.” You state it so simply, not wanting to explain how it has to match. 

“Yeah you can. Just paint it in black and white or whatever shades you can see. And then maybe one day, when you can see the colors again, you’ll see the beauty in it.”

You stare down at the paints, trying to force yourself to see the colors, but nothing happens. Professor Varon pats you lightly on the back, smiling.

“Just give it a try. Slap some paint on a palette without looking and go for it. But not here because I have a class in fifteen minutes.” He laughs as you check your phone, gasping at the time.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was already this late.” You jump up, stuffing your supplies back in your backpack and grabbing the canvas. “I’ll think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow, sir. Thank you.” you bow quickly before running out of the room. 

You stop by the tree on your way off campus, staring up at the giant branches full of colorful and vibrant leaves. Some floating down to the ground in the gentle wind.

You can’t go home and try to paint, Ryujin is already back at the apartment and hasn’t yelled at you since Sunday night. So you don’t want to risk the streak of calm in the house. You’re not going to Jungkook’s for a variety of reasons. Joshua lives too far away, and you’ve barely spoken to any of your other friends. This leaves you with only one option. Sighing, you pull out your phone, pulling up the text thread you’ve been neglecting for a week. 

Y/N (6:47pm): Are you busy?

AN: Thank you for reading! It really means a lot. I don't even care if it's one person reading this, I'm writing it as a form of therapy for myself.

Let me know what you thought!

I promise, it'll get better in the next chapter! the healing will begin soon. It won't be all doom and gloom. 💜

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 (𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦) | jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ tempter (the twilight creature). (m) one shot. ✎  [10k words]

genre: fantasy, romance. 

warnings: angst, slight smut, fluff.  masterlist. Hello my lovelies, I know it’s been a while and that I have several things to update, but as I found myself stuck I wrote this little one shot that came into mind as I posted this little part on another social media. If anything, I ended up actually writing the story, so I really hope you enjoy this little thing that i was able to put out. I miss you all dearly and I hope this ignites my creativity once more. Please, remember to reblog and like, only that way my little stories can get to other people, and don’t refrain from sending me messages, I might take a while to answer them, but I always love to read them when I’m feeling unmotivated and down. Now, let’s get to it, shall we? If there are any mistakes, please let me know as I wrote this sleepless.  much love. 

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | FINAL Chapter 35: Agapanthus

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst

WC: 20k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, amnesia, panic attacks, mentions of past betrayal, pining, heartbreak, mentions of unhealthy coping, lots of tears, ANGST, brief mention of blood, anxiety, lots of feels okay.

Here we go babies…

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous

One year and five months later…

“Are y-you guys ready for s-s-summer??”

The class of tiny humans erupts into cheers, melting your heart.

They gather their backpacks and form a line, laughing and talking with their classmates. Then you lead them out of the room and down the hall towards the front. 

Like always, you wave to each and every child until the last one is picked up, then you turn and head back inside to clean up your room and make sure you don’t leave anything over the summer. 

After submitting the last of the paperwork, you hear your phone ringing. 

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, you ready to party??”

You laugh at Jimin’s excitement, “M-More than ready!”

“Good, because I’m parked out front.”

You giggle and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, “Coming!”

Keep reading

affluenza | jjk

⤑ part 1: Pilot

⇀ SUMMARY continue reading blog post: [ “Rumor has it that yn is back for good. But what do our resident upper east siders think about that? Her best friend to start?—We always thought Lani’s boyfriend, Jungkook, had a thing for yn anyway. Catch the latest scoop here! XOXO” ]

⇀ RATE 18+

⇀ GENRE gossip girl AU, rich kids AU

⇀ PAIRING Jungkook x Reader, mention of Namjoon x Reader

⇀ WARNINGS angst, mention of recreational drug use, classism, shitty rich people, woman to woman rivalry, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, mention of a mental breakdown, mention of relapsing, mention of rehab, rehab centers, brief mention of depression, mention of overdosing, slut shaming, absent father, mentions of divorce, heavy petting, mentions of virginity (f!), loss of virginity (m!), mentions of intoxicated sex, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, infidelity

⇀ PLAYLIST ♫♫

⇀ WC 10.7k

⇀ A/N okay so!! this is finally happening!! really excited bc gg is one of my favorite shows of all time, so im looking forward to this <33 i tried to keep some of the plot the same especially in this chapter (so you're going to see a lot of similarities to the show here) to make sure it still has that authentic vibe, but there are going to be bigger plot changes that will differ from the show later on. ALSO , i made up a lot of the side characters and rlly only kept like ,, the core 4. anywho, i hope yall can see the characters as i cast them somewhat, and that my blair girls aren't too upset with me (i was a blair girl myself when i was younger trust me.) send me all your reactions when you read this bc i am very curious as yalls impressions !!

⤑ SERIES MLIST

- August, Lani’s estate -

The news spread through the party like a wildfire.

In circles of the elite, there was no piece of gossip left unturned, no stone left unthrown. Idle talk ran through their veins as readily as blood. Especially when it detailed the return of someone who had disappeared. Especially when it was you.

Whispers wafted around you, spilling in from every direction as you shouldered through the party. As soon as you’d make eye contact with someone, they’d immediately fix their face, molding a fake smile and a ‘welcome back’ in your direction. You’d send an acknowledging nod and a grin back, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

You sought out the one person you were looking for in the room. Your gaze darted around, from ingenuine face to ingenuine face, until you spotted her. Her back turned to you, a glass of wine held delicately in her hand as she laughed briskly with the woman next to her. You made to reach her, tapping her perfectly poised shoulders. Your mother turned around, surprise lighting up her face as her eyes landed on you.

“Darling! I didn’t know you were coming home tonight!” To everyone else, she was full of joy and surprise. But behind that, only you could see the slight falter in her gaze, something that threw a wrench in her carefully crafted itinerary. Your mother was a purposeful woman, you knew that better than anyone. And she didn’t like things not going according to her plan.

She embraced you quickly, not letting the look linger. You felt her bony arms around you tightly. Sure, she’d missed her daughter. But you could feel her thoughts race. She was rearranging things in her mind quickly, mapping out a new norm. But, you didn’t care for any of that. You’d come here for one reason.

“How is he? Is he here?” You pulled away to look around, expecting to see your brother, popping up out of thin air, towering over everyone. Your mother’s silence brought your attention back to her, looking into her face, one she was trying to school behind a nonchalant facade.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Your heart dropped and you had to stop yourself from huffing audibly. You faced her with frustrated and doleful eyes. “Mom–”

“Later,” she squeezed your shoulder in warning as she wore a masked smile. Her pointed look was enough for you to concede, itching to get home and rehash the subject. Her hand on your back seemed motherly and sweet, but her tone was serious, warning you not to make a mess at a social event. Lest her reputation be tarnished. “It’s a party, okay? Why don’t you go and mingle.” She spotted someone from a distance, flagging them down. “There’s Lani’s mother. Why don’t you see where your best friend is? Have you seen her since you got back?”

“I came to talk to you.” You muttered under your breath as you slapped a smile on your face. Lani’s mother had spotted you, excitedly waving and making her way over.

It was a social setting, and you had to play your part. That was a lesson you had learned early in life.

—

30 minutes earlier

“Oh my god! Someone just saw yn getting into a cab at the train station!”

Lani’s head snapped up, her wine going down the wrong opening in her surprise. She coughed as she processed the news, her mind racing. You, who she hadn’t seen in six months… was actually back in the city. She felt a myriad of mixed feelings wash over her. But most importantly, she felt a sense of urgency to find her boyfriend. And fast.

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asked lazily, his bored face slightly perking up at the sound of the juicy gossip. At the nod from Mina, he grinned as he downed a shot from his flask. “Good. Things were starting to get boring around here.”

Lani rolled her eyes, but stopped herself quickly. She knew she wore her emotions on her face easily, and this was an extremely delicate situation. She had to control that.

“Why do you think she’s back?” Mina asked curiously, eyes shining with thirst for gossip. “Do you think she’s the same?”

“Blowing off school and getting fucked up?” Taehyung scoffed. But a large grin was still evident on his face as he spoke. “It’s the only way to live.”

Lani actually didn’t stop her eye roll this time. “Just because you don’t take school seriously, and spend all your time with your dick in anything that walks, doesn’t mean that it’s the way to live.”

“Hey,” Taehyung waved his hand nonchalantly. “I have a trust fund to fall back on. We all do. You should take a few pointers, little miss perfect.”

Lani’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought. Of course, what else would you expect to hear from the son of the wealthiest man in the city? With the ethereal looks to match, Taehyung had never had to work for a thing a day in his life. And he had the endless troublemaking, alcohol, and discarded models to prove it.

“Well, I heard her mom sent yn away to rehab.” Dinah spoke from the other side of Taehyung. She shrugged with a pointed eyebrow, raising her wine glass to her lips. “She could come back straight as a ruler.”

“Oh, please. This is yn we’re talking about,” Mina giggled, emphasizing your name as if that would disprove Dinah completely. “She’s not even a backdoor virgin anymore, apparently. Thanks to Jung Hoseok.” Dinah gasped, and Mina nodded fervently, and they fell into a fit of gossip.

Lani’s thoughts were occupied with something else though. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to spot her tall boyfriend. Catching a glimpse of his shaggy brown hair, her gaze narrowed and her heart thudded.

Taehyung was watching her with a smug, knowing look on his face. One she ignored as she thrust her wine glass in his direction, and commanded, “hold this,” before rushing away, in pursuit.

“Your father tells me you’re planning on going into finances, like him. Great choice, son.” Jungkook was met with a slap on the back by one of his father’s business associates. “Your old man is one of the best in the business.”

“Yes, father always speaks highly of his work.” Jungkook agreed with the perfect response. Though, he couldn’t stop the second phrase from tumbling out of his mouth. “Though, I was thinking about exploring other options as well. Journalism, perhaps.”

“His mother wouldn’t hear of it.” His father was quick to intercede before the words fully left Jungkook’s mouth. He wrinkled his nose at the eyebrow piercing glinting back at him from his son’s face, turning away and addressing the business associates. “Such an unstable livelihood makes her nervous.”

“Yes, well.” Jungkook’s polite tone was underlined with defeat. “Of course, business is my first choice.” Feeling a sudden overwhelming wave wash over him, he physically felt his face fall. The exhaustion of social networking was starting to get to him.

“Hello,” Lani’s hand brushed against her boyfriend’s back, facing the man he was conversing with. “Mr. Jeon, do you mind if I steal Jungkook away?” Her voice was sweet and polite as always, batting her eyelashes at her boyfriend as she spoke.

Jungkook’s hand wrapped around her waist in greeting, naturally falling into place. Like it had done 100 times before. “Sure, he’s all yours.” Mr. Jeon raised a glass in gesture, cheerfully patting his son on the back before leaving the two of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook flashed her a grin, “What’s up?”

Lani wrapped her arms around his neck, barely offering an answer before pressing her lips to his vivaciously. His eyes widened as he found himself caught in a heated kiss with his girlfriend, not necessarily complaining.

“Come on. I wanna show you something.” She giggled as she pulled away, whispering in his ear like it was a secret. Jungkook barely had time to question it as she tugged him away, in the direction of her bedroom. It didn’t take much for Jungkook to put two and two together, his heart racing giddily as he let himself be pulled away.

Lani and Jungkook were childhood sweethearts, dating since their first day of kindergarten—when Jungkook had painted her a heart, and gifted it to her on the playground during recess, with Taehyung yelling random encouragements and teases behind him. Even back then, you and Lani had been inseparable, you right by her side squealing with her as Jungkook approached her.

Of course, the four of you had grown up together since then. And not just because of the couple in your group. Being the children of the richest people in the city meant you spent a lot of brunches, charity galas, and polo matches running around and chasing each other around.

As you grew up, you and Lani changed, but you remained as close as ever. You started putting an emphasis on “fun,” boys started approaching you more, and any room you walked into swirled around your lively personality. Meanwhile, Lani was preoccupied with making everything in her life perfect, complete with her perfect boyfriend and perfect relationship. Everything was planned out to a tee with her. She fit into this world in that way. Taking after your parents, and charting out her every move to a “perfect” future. Down to the moment she would lose her virginity.

Of course, her original plan was prom. Getting dressed in the perfect designer gown, voted prom queen, having secured her admission into the college of her choice, ready to start her new life. Completing the night with the ultimate step in her relationship. That was the plan. But things didn’t go that way, as things in life often tend to do.

It all started when she got rejected from her top choice. Her hands shaking with that letter, her whole world started to fall apart, one string broken in a large web that was slowly unraveling. She wasn’t concerned with things like her virginity. Not when she was busy having a mental breakdown over her entire future being ruined. No. It would just have to wait.

And wait it did. She wanted the night to be perfect, it couldn’t be any old night. So she planned. And postponed. And planned and postponed. No time ever seemed right after her entire path had gone awry. And so here they were, about to start their second year of college semester of freshman year, and she still hadn’t gone through with it. Jungkook was a patient boyfriend, and she loved him for it. But she knew he wouldn’t wait forever. His patience was especially a liability when… you were around.

Fuck the plans, she needed to get this done with now, before he found out you were back. Before there was even a chance…

Her doe-eyed boyfriend had no clue when she pushed him back onto her bed, climbing over him after letting her dress drop to the floor. He didn’t even know what Lani knew. How you affected him. It wasn’t unusual, really. You had that effect on all men, and women, too, when you wanted to. It was natural, they were drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The shining spotlight, with you right in the center, collecting praise and admiration. Lani knew Jungkook was no exception, despite their years-long relationship. He couldn’t help but be drawn to your light. That just meant she had to cling to him harder when you were around—the downsides of having a best friend as alluring as you, she thought bitterly.

She’d forgotten all those feelings you’d brought back with your arrival, the jealousy stirring inside her like a green monster. It was so much easier without you here. And Lani was determined to keep things that way.

“You wanna do this now?” Jungkook panted as his hands came up to grip her hips, breathless from her endless kisses. The ripple of news that had passed through the party didn’t register in his consciousness, unbeknownst to him that you had just stepped through the doors of the estate.

“Now, please. I want you so bad.” She pushed his suit jacket off, throwing it to some remote corner of her room. Jungkook was shocked with her frantic actions. He’d never know Lani to do anything without thinking 100 steps first. And now, here she was, acting with pure passion? He could get used to this.

“Lani!” A loud voice drifted through her door, coming from the bottom of the staircase. It belonged to Lani’s mother, but Lani didn’t seem to pause to listen to what she had to say. “Yn’s here! Come say hello!”

“What?” Jungkook sat up suddenly, pulling away from Lani’s lips. She took to kissing his neck instead, desperately trying to regain his attention. But it was too late. “Yn’s back?”

“Yn deferred for a year. She’s not here.” Lani cooed, tilting his face in her direction.

“No, your mom just said she’s here. I heard her.” Jungkook was swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching for his shoes before Lani could stop him. “We should go say hi.”

Lani was left panting, mostly out of frustration, as he tugged his clothes back on and straightened his tie up. A battle lost.

—

You were on your way out when you saw him. Having just made an excuse to Lani’s mother as to why you couldn’t stay, desperate to get home and away from the suffocating social gathering. You needed to clear your head, be able to think. Visit your brother, if he wasn’t out yet. The last place you needed to be was a party.

You were on your way out, but he crossed your path. You hadn’t seen him since the night you left. He looked older, somehow, more mature. Even though it had only been six months. His shaggy brown hair had gotten longer, too, now falling over his eyes effortlessly. An eyebrow piercing glinted through the tendrils—much to your surprise. His eyes shone with something you didn’t want to think about, and he looked like he was going to make his way towards you, words left unspoken between you on the tip of his tongue.

Which died on his lips as soon as he saw Lani descend the stairs in front of him, unknowingly intercepting his path and spotting you first.

Your heart did a full 180, dropping to your ass, when you saw your best friend. She approached you slowly, giving you plenty of time to run rampant with guilt. You hadn’t told her when you’d left. Not a single word. Just up and disappeared one day, without even a text to her phone. You didn’t know how she would feel, seeing you here three months later. You didn’t know if things were still the same.

She stood right in front of you, her eyes guarded with her feelings brewing behind them. It felt like an eternity passed, the both of you standing there. Unsure of what move to make, you settled for a sheepish smile. “Hey, Lani.”

Your heart raced in the moment of silence following. But you felt a weight being lifted off of your shoulders as her face broke into a smile, opening her arms and encasing you in an embrace. “Hi! Welcome back.”

You felt a million emotions flow through you as you hugged her back; nostalgia, regret, joy, comfort. But when you looked up, and saw Jungkook standing a few paces behind her, guilt washed all over you again.

You pulled away, instead sending her a smile. “Come on, have you had a drink?” She was looking for a server as she spoke, her hand grasping yours.

“Actually, I can’t stay. I have to get home.” You informed her in a regretful tone. She let your hand go.

Her face fell. “You’re not staying?”

“Not today, I’m still tired from traveling. But I’ll see you at school, right?” You gave her a departing squeeze of her shoulder as you hurried away, in the direction of the exit opposite of where Jungkook was standing. Quick, before you ran into someone else, you were out the door in a flash.

Mina and Dinah took up Lani’s sides quickly, ushering her back to where they were sitting before.

“School. So I guess she’s back for good.” Taehyung held up Lani’s discarded wine glass, but Lani reached for his flask instead, taking a large swig of it as she plopped down.

“You guess? Didn’t you know?” Dinah questioned.

Lani’s head snapped up, interrupting the thoughts she was lost in. “Yeah… of course I did.” She shook her head, readjusting her smile. “We’re best friends, of course I knew.”

“Crazy she didn’t stay though, right? I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party that she hasn’t been at. Usually, trashed and ditching with someone before the room is even full.” Mina whispered in a loud-hushed voice.

“Now that I think about it, you’re right.” Dinah agreed. “Told you guys she went to rehab.”

“Well, something definitely happened to our resident party girl.” Taehyung drawled, taking a sip of his regained flask. He wore a knowing smile, though. As if he had the ultimate inside scoop on you. He flashed a quick look to Lani. “Let’s see how the consequences play out.

Flashback (One year ago)

“Another! Whoo!” You reached for the shots that were being poured. Conveniently forgetting the crucial fact that you were standing on top of a coffee table, you tripped as you missed the step down, falling ungracefully, the floor rushing up to meet you.

Though, luckily, the contact never came. You found yourself in arms much bigger and stronger, and a pillow-like chest that you rested your head on. You started a giggle fit at your almost-concussion, looking up at your savior with a drunken smile and a happy glint in your eye. “Let’s do it again!”

“Whoa, there.” Namjoon’s hand dropped to your waist as you tried to re-climb the coffee table, tugging you back into his chest. “Let’s slow it down, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” You pouted, pushing him away with minimal strength. “Not unless you’re gonna fuck me like your baby–”

“Hey,” he amusement flashed across his face as he gripped your wrists, which were trailing a bit low on his body, keeping them interlocked in one hand. “Relax, huh? You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“So? It’s never stopped you before. Especially not when you popped my ch–” You didn’t know how loud you were when you were drunk. So it’s no surprise when you were yelling the last part of your sentence like it was your favorite part of the song, throwing up your red solo cup like you were cheering someone who wasn’t there. He was quick to cover your mouth with his palm, muffling your screech.

“You weren’t this drunk, yn. Come on.” He kept you safe in his embrace, catching Hoseok’s glance from across the room. Once Hoseok caught sight of who was in Namjoon’s arms, he raised his cup to him with a smile and a wink, which Namjoon returned with a head nod and a cheeky smile. Fitting, because, as the captain of the lacrosse team and the frat you were currently throwing a holler in, the fuckboy smile he flashed you did the trick. “Come on, let’s get to my room. You can lie down in there.”

“What, you trynna get me on my back, Kim?” You slurred. It was a feat getting you up the stairs he was leading you up. Trying to distract you from the jello shots you’d just spotted, he attempted to turn your attention to something else. “Where’s your brother, anyway? I haven’t seen him around.”

Jello shots immediately forgotten, your face contorted into an unreadable expression. “Haven’t seen him in a while,” you shrugged, “He took off west, and hasn’t been home since. Seemed okay when I spoke to him on the phone last week, though.” The mention of your brother seemed to ground you, sobering you up a bit. A sad tone snuck in through your words, your shoulders dropping to match.

Namjoon led you through his door awkwardly, unsure of what to say. He knew your brother was a wild card; it was one of the reasons they were such good friends. So something like this didn’t exactly surprise him. But his disappearance seemed to have a different effect on you, and Namjoon didn’t know how to lift those frown lines into a smile.

Though, on the bright side, you were finally secured behind safe doors, no longer in danger of throwing yourself off another coffee table. And also, he noticed as he turned around after locking the door, completely naked.

“It’s hot,” you excused, crossing the room to him. You slid your hands under his shirt, tugging at it with a focused look on your face. “You’re hot.” You seemed to have completely forgotten about the conversation topic at hand, no sign of your previous emotions evident on your face.

Namjoon shook his head as he chuckled. Some part of him knew the night would end like this, he thought as he lifted his shirt over his head. But, as you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, he thought making an exception to his no runbacks rule might be worth it for you… again…

Present Day

The heavy doors took all your strength to open, yanking your whole arm back and taking your body with you. Fucking prison, it is. You cursed under your breath as you stumbled through the threshold, the white marble floors lackluster underneath your feet. Lifting your head, the rest of the surroundings were just as boring and dingy. You spotted the receptionist immediately, making your way over.

“Welcome to the Cornell Treatment Center, can I help you?” She mustn't have gotten a lot of visitors, perking up when she saw you barreling through.

“Yes, hello! I’m here to see my brother.” You quickly gave his name, and your ID card to match. Your nails tapped on the desk as she looked the information up. You took in the mundane off-white walls. A few potted plants littered here and there, but overall, completely devoid of color or emotion. A place built to treat things like depression or addiction was so… depressing. Ironic and backwards.

“Yes, room 304. Here’s your visitor pass.” The receptionist caught your attention, handing you a sticker and your ID back. “The elevators are down the hall.”

Thanking her, you were quick to shuffle through, not needing much direction to navigate your way through. You’d been here once before. Your brother hadn’t had as long a stay here last time as he did this time, only a few nights until he got back on his feet. Before being let out with no guidance or support, right back into the life that dropped him right back here.

You never blamed your brother for his choices; it’s never a teenager’s fault for falling into addictive habits, or looking for a way to numb their emotions. How was he supposed to know better? With a mother like yours…. It wasn’t easy having to practically raise yourselves. Sure, your mother had done a lot for you. She’d put a roof over your head, and food in your stomachs. But when every moment you actually spent time with her was spent conditioning you both for the social life she was grooming you to live, it became suffocating and exhausting. You didn’t have a mother, you had a handler.

Your brother, being the eldest child, had always looked after you. As much as he could, at least. You were closest when you both attended secondary school together; he was only three years ahead of you, and it was the best time of your life. You’d tail him everywhere he’d let you, and he’d do anything to make you smile. Your mother was going through her fourth divorce at the time, of course, she didn’t have much time for either of you. Your brother was the one who would walk you to school, take you to get a snack after at the deli down the street, and help you with your homework. He’d ask you about your day, and give you tips on how to get on teachers’ good sides. Once you’d started sneaking out, he promised not to tell mom, telling you to take the service elevator down, and to be responsible. Often taking you out with him, or having one of his friends watch out for you, lest you fall into a bad crowd. He made your teenage years bearable while battling demons of his own.

The least you could do was be there for him, especially when he was being involuntarily committed. Well, “voluntary,” after much persuasion from your mother.

It was last month when you’d received a panicked phone call from your mother in the middle of the night, blubbering that she’d gotten a call from a hospital out west who had just admitted your brother for an accidental overdose. She’d gone into full on crisis-mode after that, rushing to keep the news under wraps, making sure no one in town found out. She’d snuck your brother back into town just last week, committing him to the treatment center, but refusing to let him out or continue his treatment in the comfort of a home, for fear of others finding out about a scandal in your family.

You’d come face to face with the door, a few quick knocks to announce your arrival before you heard your brother’s voice from inside. Your heart was full as you pushed the door open, beating loudly in anticipation. You hadn’t seen him in over a year, since he’d left town. You felt a wave of emotion flood you as you caught a glimpse of his face, pushing the door open fully and jumping to make your way to him, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Hey kiddo,” he hugged you back, patting your back. “How you been?”

“How have I been? How have you been?” You pulled back to get a good look at him, a huge smile breaking onto your face. “And what’s with the beard?”

“What?” He jokingly took an offended tone, stroking his chin. “Doesn’t it suit me?”

“I guess you can pull it off. You know, being my brother and all…” You rolled your eyes teasingly, shoving his shoulder affectionately.

It felt like a breath of fresh air, sitting and laughing with your brother. After everything that’s happened, you didn’t realize how much you’d missed his presence in your life. Even though he’d keep you somewhat updated (if he was sober enough to remember), it wasn’t the same. Your relationship was disconnected and carried through phone lines and text messages. You'd both missed a lot in each other's lives, and you know his absence was felt in yours. You hated that it had to be such a grim event that brought you both back together again, but you cherished it regardless. For the first time in months, you felt the weight on your chest get a little lighter.

—

As soon as you left your brother at the center, promising him fervently that you would try to get your mother to come around and let him carry out the rest of his treatment back home, you felt the fog of worry settle back over as you headed back to your apartment. You hadn’t had a chance to get your own place yet, so your mom, ever the planner, took it upon herself to lease one for you. Fine by you, it’d give you plenty of time to give her a piece of your mind.

Which is why when you walked up to the lobby of your new building, mind cloudy with the thoughts of your return to town, the last person you’d ever expected to collide with was… Jungkook.

You bumped into his chest with an oof, his well-defined pecs creating a pillow-y padding for you, his arms catching you before your fall.

“Whoa there, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Startle me? Never! My senses are as sharp as Mrs. Smith’s at the mere sight of a woman near her husband, can’t you tell?” You backed up, readjusting your purse before getting a good look at him. Without your face in his pecs.

“Oh? Then Mrs. Smith must be losing her touch.” Jungkook laughed, leading you to playfully bat his arm. “By the way, your mom told me about the new apartment. How is it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t gone in yet.” You shrugged with a smile. He laughed along, sticking his hands into his pockets. A nervous trait of his, you knew from the many years you’d spent teasing him about it growing up. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Oh,” Jungkook shifted his stance, somehow seeming even taller. But his expression was timid, a bite of his lip before he answered, “You seemed in a rush last night. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Yeah, uhm,” a pang of guilt hit your chest, your smile dropping. You couldn’t face his hopeful smile, the shy way he leaned into you. Everything was delicate, full of electricity and tiptoeing around each other.

But it shouldn’t have been. You two were friends, full stop. He was your best friend’s boyfriend, full stop. Dropping your gaze to the floor, fiddling with your keys. “Look, I have to get inside. Get everything ready for school tomorrow.”

You weren’t looking at him, but you’ve known Jungkook long enough to sense the bunny pout he was undoubtedly wearing right now. The confusion came off of him in desperate waves. “But–”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You tightened your hand over your purse strap, busying yourself with adjusting it. “No.”

“But you’re back now—”

“I didn’t come back for you.” You finally looked up, meeting his hurt eyes. You took to remind him of why this topic, his very visit, was a problem. “You’re with Lani, and she loves you, and that’s how things are supposed to be.”

You saw the look in his eyes, the confusion and dolefulness you couldn’t bear to face. You shuffled past him, grateful that he didn’t try to stop you. Because, with those muscles and your weak resolve, you don’t think you would have won that fight. You found refuge in the elevator, turning your key for the Penthouse. You didn’t look up as the elevator doors shut in front of you, slowly shutting Jungkook away.

“No…no…absolutely not…no—” Lani huffed as she thrust the list back into Mina’s lap. “Where did you find these people? Craigslist?”

“The freshman class is weak this semester. Mostly kids from…” Mina lowered her voice, “Public schools.” Dinah nodded along, her distaste evident.

“Absolutely nothing to work with.” Lani shook her head, rolling her eyes. “My first party of the year has to be perfect. Not a trashy frat party full of nobodies.” She went down the meticulously curated checklist in her hand carefully. “Have the invites been sent out?”

“Yes.” Dinah confirmed, excitement in her voice when she added, “And we had an art major do calligraphy!” Lani nodded her approval, checking the item off the list.

“Have you decided on what you’re wearing yet?” It was clear Mina was bursting to ask, the words tumbling out of her mouth rapidly. The favorite topic of any party discussion, of course.

“I’m between two right now, but I’ll probably get Jungkook’s opinion first.” She wore a smug smile as she gushed, “He has exquisite taste.”

“He does!” Dinah confirmed, Mina nodding along. “That diamond necklace he got you for your birthday last year was gorgeous.” Mina squealed at the mention of it, Dinah joining her.

“He’s such a considerate boyfriend.” Lani sighed happily. Though she was, of course, happy with her gift, she remembered the slight pang in her stomach when she’d opened the box, and the clear jewels sparkled back at her. She’d put a few items on hold at Tiffany’s, supposedly making it easy for the college boy, who was sure to be at a loss. And her heart was set on one specific set—a rare jewel as the centerpiece. She thought, upon sight of it, he’d choose it immediately, recognizing something that so perfectly matched her tastes.

It wasn’t like the diamond necklace wasn’t nice. It just… wasn’t what she wanted.

A sudden shadow blocked the sunlight over her, casting over Lani and her friends. Looking up, her jaw locked. “Hey Lani.”

Your frame was illuminated by a golden glow around you, courtesy of the sun you were currently blocking over Lani. Almost like a halo wrapping around you. You looked angelic, even on a mundane day at college. Great.

“I was looking for you guys. I didn’t know you started eating lunch here.” You gestured to the steps of the Arts building, where the girls currently resided. Lani sent you a tight-lipped smile. “I guess you miss a few things when you disappear for six months.”

She said it like a joke, and laughed right after to prove so. But the bite in her words was stark. Your own smile back was fake as ever, and it surprised you how unsurprised you were at her response. “So,” you nodded at her checklist, “When’s the party?”

An awkward silence followed your words, Mina and Dinah exchanging side eyes. Lani hesitated, letting your words hang in the air, busying herself with readjusting her books. She finally looked up, giving you a once-over. “Saturday.” She declared. “And… you’re kinda not invited.” She looked directly into your eyes as she delivered the blow. Her eyes were hard and challenging, daring you to defy her. “Since,” she resumed her faux joking persona, never one to outright declare war. “Up until twelve hours ago, you were MIA. And now, we’re full. Sorry. Maybe next time?” She concluded with a sweet smile, as poisonous as a snake.

You knew how Lani could get sometimes. She was your best friend, after all. But you never knew that her hostility or power plays would be directed at you. You had clearly missed more than you thought when you were gone.

Lani and her minions rose from the steps, “Did you want us to wait for you?” She offered passively, getting ready to leave.

“No, I’m all good. Thanks.” She nodded at your response, beckoning to the girls next to her as she passed you by.

“Lani,” you whirled around, stopping her in her tracks. “Meet me at the Great Oaks tonight. Eight o’ clock?” You may not have known what you missed, but you certainly planned on catching up. Whatever this was, you were keen for the explanation.

If it was a year ago, the invite would have been completely standard, expected even. But now, it was heavy with a weight that both of you were daring each other to bear. A challenge, a last-ditch attempt at a negotiation. A possible peace-making. It was a bomb with a short fuse, and it was seconds away from running out.

“Can’t.” Came Lani’s curt response. “I have something with Jungkook tonight.” The heavy emphasis on his name told you all you needed to know.

“He can wait.” You pushed. Rough waters, but your many years of friendship taught you how to navigate it.

It was like Lani knew it too, finally conceding with a nod of her head. Whether it was because it was a challenge she couldn’t back down from, or a small piece inside of her fighting for the friendship you two once had, she replied, “I can stop by for a bit.”

As she walked away, you couldn’t help the yearning you felt for the normalcy you had before you left. Throughout it all, all your benders, your wild nights, your memory losses the next morning, your best friend was with you through it all. Holding your hair back when you were bent over the toilet, carrying you back from whatever place you’d fallen asleep in. You regret everything you put her through… everything you’d put everyone through.

You’d changed now, though, and you wish she could see that. Ready to take responsibility, be there for her. You didn’t realize you’d be welcomed back with such a cold response. If it was a year ago, your fight instinct would have kicked in. But it was your best friend. And you owed her the benefit of the doubt, at the very least.

“Left. Left!” Taehyung screamed at the flatscreen TV mounted on his wall, tilting his body in the same direction.

“You know you’re not actually in the Mario Kart, right?” Jungkook, his much calmer counterpart, was sitting back lazily. But his fingers still moved quickly over the controls in his hand.

“Shut up! It helps!” Taehyung’s voice was loud, frantic. He leaned impossibly forward, ready to be sucked into the TV and drive the Donkey Kong car himself all the way across the finish line. Just a little further…

Whizzing by, the black-and-white checkered flag signaled both the end of the game, and Jungkook’s secured first place win.

“Fuck!” Taehyung’s loud curse filled the apartment as he fell back into the couch cushions with a hefty huff. “Even distracted you’re still kicking my ass.”

“What? I’m not distracted.” Jungkook mumbled in absent-minded protest. His eyes were glazed over, on the screen in front of him as his Toad character happily did laps around the track with the “1st place!” banner flashing across the screen.

“Yeah, alright.” Taehyung snorted, reaching over to grab his rolling paper and weed.

“Do you ever feel like our whole lives are planned out for us?” Jungkook suddenly asked. “Like we’re just… pawns to whatever game this is?”

“Little slow on the uptake there, bud.” Taehyung laughed, concentrated on lining his weed up. “It’s our parents' world, and we’re just living in it. At least, till they croak and it’s our turn to run shit, or whatever.” He was rolling the paper meticulously, years of practice making it second-nature. “All we can do is make it worthwhile.”

“Yeah, but…” Jungkook was struggling with finding the end of his sentence, the words eluding him. “Don’t you think we should at least have the right to choose? At least, go for what we’re passionate about?”

Taehyung leveled his distracted friend with a long look. Mostly, out of surprise. Jungkook had never expressed a need to go against the grain before, perfectly content with following along with what his parents had planned. At least, that’s what Taehyung thought.

“Look,” Taehyung pulled out his lighter, sticking the blunt in between his lips. “Life’s simple for us. Easy. Don’t think too much.” Lighting the spark, “We’re entitled to certain… privileges. And there are even easier ways to make it more interesting.” He held the blunt out to his friend, a testament to his statement. Jungkook shook his head, deeming the soft mellow from the previous blunt enough.

Not Taehyung, though. “You’re clearly stressed. Or,” Jungkook followed Taehyung’s pointed gaze down to his crotch, “backed up. Seriously, light up, get in there, and tap that ass. It’s that simple. You and Lani have been dancing around it for how many years now?” Taehyung felt his eyes get hotter with each drag, but he was long from faded. He waited for the nod from Jungkook, confirming the time frame he was dissing. “Exactly. Seal the deal, alright? But, first,” Taehyung thrust the game controller back into Jungkook’s lap, settling back with his eyes on the screen. “I’m gonna kick your ass before you become a man.”

With a laugh, Jungkook was taking the controller, poked out of his funk by his best friend. Those thoughts weren’t gone, lingering still, pushed to the back of his mind. Further each time he ignored it—it was only a matter of time before it burst out into a kaleidoscope of entropy.

The small chandeliers hanging above the high end bar provided the only source of light in the dark room. Two martinis sat facing one another, and two fake IDs were tucked away in respective purses. A formality, to be frank. The children of the elite weren’t carded regardless.

“So,” you started, “How have you been?” The apprehension in your chest accompanied you all the way here, only tightening at the first word uttered to your best friend. The question somehow felt weighted, so you quickly added, “How’s your mom doing with the divorce?”

“Great.” Lani was quick with the response, lifting the martini up to her lips. “She jetted off with her private trainor and lost fifteen pounds. Out of my hair, too. It’s been good for her.” Her response was almost robotic, too stiff to be a simple conversation between friends. It would have been the perfect socially acceptable response to give at an event, with a breezy laugh to boot. If it wasn’t for the subtle hint at Lani’s relationship with her mother. You knew.

“I’m so sorry.” You didn’t pry, giving the socially acceptable response right back. It wasn’t supposed to be like this with you two. Although, the guilt wracking you had you lose your footing in more ways than one.

“Yeah, I could tell. Since you were totally there for me the whole time it was happening.” Lani’s biting sarcasm. Finally, a true show of emotions.

“I know, I’m terrible.” You nodded—there was no excuse, she was right. “It’s just, I was dealing with a lot when I was away, and—”

“I don’t even know why you left.” Lani interjected. Her voice was calm as ever, never one to cause a scene. But the coolness of her words left a chill on your skin. “Do you know how it felt? Calling your house after you went MIA, just to have your mom go ‘Oh. Yn didn’t tell you?’”

“I–” You shook your head. “I’m so sorry, Lani. I just—I want to make things right again. I’m here now.”

“How are you going to do that when I feel like I don’t even know you?” There was a hint of defeat in her voice, behind the nonchalant facade she was putting up. Your relationship wasn’t just your loss; she was mourning it too.

You can’t imagine what the old you would have done. But the new you wasn’t about to let fifteen years of friendship wash down the drain just because of your mistakes. You wouldn’t lose another person in your life. “Let’s fix that.” You reached out tentatively, aiming for a soft grab of her hand. “You know… I saw you at school with Dinah and Mina, and I’m not here to take any of that away from you or anything—”

“Because it’s just yours to take?” Her words took you by surprise, but you could feel the resonance coming off of her in waves. She was dead serious.

“No, of course not! That’s not what I meant—” You were fumbling for words, and Lani leveled you with a raised eyebrow. Really?

“Look,” you take a deep breath, urging your singular braincell to get it together. “I just miss you. So much.” Your eyes were sincere when you looked at her. “I just want things to go back to the way they used to be. Remember? Staying up all night watching Audrey Hepburn movies? Nights skinny-dipping on the beach? Dancing on tables at the Lounge?” You earned a small smile from her at the reminiscence, the memories running a wave of nostalgia over the both of you.

“Just,” her voice was low, next sentence barely even a whisper. Raw with emotion. “Why did you go?”

You felt your heart tighten. You knew you’d have to address it at some point. Making these plans, extending the olive branch, you knew you’d have some explaining to do. There was so much you wanted to lay out to her. So many secrets you wanted to expend, tired of the weight bearing down on you. You knew you had a choice. You could either tell her everything, or you could take the easy way out. And looking at your best friend’s hopeful and expectant face, you chose the lighter weight to lift off your chest.

“I was looking for my dad.” Your voice was small, almost as if the words didn’t belong to, but some younger version of you. “He–He was supposed to be back in the country. And you know how quickly he moves around, I had to move fast if I wanted to catch him.”

Of all the things Lani expected you to say, she wasn’t expecting that. Her passive face shifted into one of surprise, eyebrows lifting up. She knew about your father—he and your mother had gotten divorced when you were young. But instead of staying in his children’s lives, he decided to jet off around the world for “work,” leaving you behind too.

“Oh my god, what? What happened? Did you find him?” She asked empathetically, leaning forward.

Your head was hung as you shook your head slightly. The confirmation itself was a lot for you to bear—what had happened when you went looking for him still hadn’t sunk in.

“I’m so sorry. I know how long you’ve been looking for him.” Lani reached out a comforting hand, patting your knee. Her voice was full of genuinity, the fake persona dropped as soon as you opened your wounds.

“No, I did find him.” You corrected, once you found the words to speak again. “I found what hotel he was staying at, and I went all the way up to the room and knocked on the door.” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking. “He didn’t want to see me.”

There was a heavy pause after your words as both you and Lani processed them. You had been avoiding admitting that since the moment it had happened, never able to fully accept it. You were in denial for months after, sure there was another explanation. But, sitting here, the words spoken into the air, hearing them out loud for the first time—concession washed over you.

“Is that why you–were gone for so long?” Lani asked gently. You nodded. You couldn’t handle coming back after the humiliation. Coming back to the same life he’d left you in. So you stayed in the city, a small part of you still holding out hope that you’d somehow meet your father again. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. And the simple reason you stayed in the city became more convoluted than you’d ever intended. It was like you always left a mess in your wake.

Not anymore, though. You promised yourself.

“Listen,” you shook your head, trying to clear it before your emotions took over completely. “I–I don’t want to keep you. I know you have plans with Jungkook and—”

“Oh, shoot. That completely slipped my mind.” Lani was checking the time on her watch, regretting how little time she had blocked off for you. “I’m so sorry, I have to go, but,” she touched your arm, looking at you with a soft heart, “We’re going to talk soon, okay?” You nodded, though you also needed time to really face your emotions. She knew that—taking it one step at a time, just like she knew you needed, and never pushing too much. Knowing your limits because she grew up learning them.

You were grateful for the outlet she gave you, your heart slightly lighter after she left. But guilt reared its head again once you were left alone. You gulped down the rest of your martini, urging the alcohol to work faster.

—

Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the city, another wretched soul was going through the same guilty heartburn you were.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Lani announced as she breezed through the door in haste. “I was with yn, and we ran a little long.”

Jungkook nodded, but his mind was in jambles. He felt an unbearable heat scorch his veins, his foot tapping anxiously on Lani’s carpet. Your name only fanned that flame.

The whole ride from Taehyung’s to here, Jungkook fought an internal battle between the desire to maintain his perfect relationship, the safe path tied to his safe future, and keeping everything stable in his world. Or, to give in to the internal conflict he’d been fighting for a long time; throw everything with Lani away, just for the sake of honesty. Jungkook didn’t have many choices in life—most things were decided for him, or he was only given the illusion of choice. But he did have control over what kind of boyfriend, what kind of man, he was going to be. And even if it cracked that perfect mirage he’d been building his whole life, he’d at least be able to say he had a semblance of morals. It was easy to lose those in a world like this.

“Lani, I have something to tell you.”

At the sound of her name, Lani, who was rushing around the room, lighting candles to set the mood for the big night, paused.

Jungkook felt the knot in his stomach grow. He felt like an asshole, doing this the night she had planned for their first time to be. Many postponements and schedules changes later, and this was finally supposed to be it. But he swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew he was doing the right thing—couldn’t even think of sleeping with her tonight before telling her what he was about to. She had a right to know beforehand—”before”, as if there was even going to be an after.

The words flowed out of his mouth, quickly, before he had a chance to swallow them back. His voice was soft, and surprisingly calm. He wasn’t about to get emotional, though—he had no right to, not in that moment.

She screamed, she cried. Her voice shook as she paced the room. Her hands shook as she threw a pillow. She broke down when she slammed the door on his face, anger, hurt, and betrayal swirling around her as she sunk to the ground.

Flashback (The night you left town): The Radames Wedding

“Why would Lani send us to a bar to sober up?” Your giggle echoed through the empty room as you fiddled with the drinks behind the counter.

The country club was lively tonight, the Radames’ wedding a highly coveted event. In all the buzz, you’d lost track of how many drinks you’d downed, somehow dragging Jungkook down with you before the happy couple had even cut the cake. Both of you stood in the corner laughing at the smallest things, namely, Mrs. Eamon’s thick panty lines showing through her dress, until Lani caught sight and saved you both by dragging you into this unused event room at the reception hall. Just stay here. Don’t leave this room, I’ll have Taehyung come get you both when it’s time to go. Lights off, tables covered in cloth, but the bar still fully stocked.

“Don’t,” A hiccup interrupted Jungkook’s sentence, sending you into another fit of laughter, “Don’t touch those. Lani said we weren’t allowed to drink anymore.” His face was flushed, full of laughter as you wrestled a champagne bottle out.

“And?” You clutched the bottle close to your chest, “Lani isn’t the boss of me.” You took to trying to climb on top of the table to prove it, heels left on the floor behind you as you clambered over the counter next to the champagne bottle you put down.

“Yo–wait–be careful,” Jungkook reached over from the stool he was sitting on, making sure to keep a tight grip on you as you stumbled on. “And, are you new here? Lani is the boss of all of us.”

“Now, this champagne is the boss of us woo!” You finally managed to get standing on the bar, popping the stopper off expertly, and pouring it right into your mouth.

“Yn, just,” Jungkook meant to repeat his warning from earlier telling you to be careful, but he couldn’t find the words through all his giggles. He watched you with awe, starstruck at the way you guzzled down the alcohol, dancing to your own beat and whooping loudly for yourself. You were a sight to behold.

“Go on, Jeon. This isn’t that cheap shit they had at the reception. This is the real stuff.” You knelt down, crouching right in front of the boy’s seat holding the bottle out to him. Your eyes were shiny, alight with excitement. It made him excited too, blaming those butterflies fluttering around in his stomach right now on the alcohol and ignoring the fact that they were a regular occurrence around you, something he’d manage to ignore for the most part.

Fuck. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d seen you so close up before. You were beautiful.

You let out a loud yelp as he tugged you off balance, grabbing the champagne bottle before you dropped it. You panicked for a minute, thinking you were going to fall. But it turns out, he’d just pulled your legs out from under your crouch to make you sit on the bar, legs dangling around him. Oh. This was safer.

“Don’t fall,” he mumbled quietly, taking a swig from the bottle, making sure to keep one hand on your waist. Against his better judgment. Have it be any regular day, Jungkook would have long distanced himself from anything resembling being alone with you. His alcohol-addled brain didn’t register the warning signs, though. The blaring alarms going through his head were put on snooze. All he registered was how close you were, and how he could smell your perfume from here.

“And what? Are you gonna catch me?” There was a twinkle in your eye when you spoke, a moment before you pushed yourself off of the counter, and slid right into his lap, his hand holding your back steady. Jungkook’s heart was racing—he really thought you were going to fall, the split moment before he caught you sending adrenaline shooting through his veins.

Your giggle was louder, right next to his ear this time; the scent of your perfume stronger. Your hands were around his neck, and your dress was practically bunched up around your hips. You were sitting in his lap swinging your legs, and he prayed to god you didn’t feel anything poking you. You leaned back, meeting his eyes, apparently unaware of the way Jungkook’s mind was currently short-circuiting.

“Wow, you’ve gotten strong. Have you been working out?” You felt up his bicep, squeezing with excited sound effects. It would have sounded like a line, except he knew you. You’d known him for a while, back when he was a skinny kid wearing snapbacks and muscle tees… without the muscles. And he had been hitting the gym, you were bound to notice the difference. If you happened to be sitting in his lap, with the smell of your shampoo clouding his senses when you noticed, then so be it.

“Yeah, actually. For a while now.” He watched you feel his abs, letting out a gasp at the rock hard under your fingertips. “I tried to get Taehyung to come too, but he said he gets his workout in with personal instructors, and then blew smoke in my face, so.”

You snorted. “That boy could use it, though. With the amount of smoke he inhales?” Jungkook nodded. “The hotel maid service clearly isn’t cutting it anymore.” Right, the “personal trainers” Taehyung was referring to. Running through them and his dad’s assistants was his forte.

You shifted in your seat, securing your hands back around his neck, and he had to consciously stop himself from letting out a groan from the friction to his crotch. “Besides we all know he’s a pillow princess, and makes them do all the work. You don’t do that, do you Kookie?”

Your hands were tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, giving light scratches, as you looked at him expectantly. He gulped, looking away. “I, uh…”

Your eyes were questioning at first, your alcohol-addled brain slow to connect the dots. “Oh wait, I forgot…” You tried to hold back the smile threatening to spread on your lips, or the giggle bubbling up. “You’re baby.”

“I’m not baby.” His response was quick, with a roll of his eyes. He was a grown man, and he didn’t want you, of all people, to see him any other way.

“Right.” You were having a hard time controlling your laugh, biting your lip with a smile. You weren’t laughing at him, per say. You just thought his response was funny, you swear! And maybe the fact that he was getting hotter by the day, dripping in sex appeal, but his eyes got all big and owlishly round when your tits got in his face. It was cute.

Jungkook was only borderline annoyed, but he couldn’t help but let out a laugh at your expression. You joined in a second later, head falling into the crook of his neck. He could feel your hot breath on his skin, goosebumps rising on his skin as he felt your lips brush against his collar.

His mind was cloudy, under the influence. He didn’t have the outside world in his head when he softly called your name, his voice low. The room was hot, like a heat wave was overtaking it. Or was that just him? He wasn’t thinking when he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his mind tunnel-visioning on the soft texture of your mouth.

You let out a soft moan, and he could feel his heart pick up its racing pace. Your hand came up to tangle in his hair, falling perfectly in time with him. His tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring unfamiliar territory for the first time in thirteen years. And what’s more, it was with you. In his haze, he didn’t notice those feelings he’d ignored pushing their way back up to the surface.

You parted your lips, letting him in. You couldn’t think straight with the way he was kissing you. It was hungry and consuming, needy with the way you two were pressing up against one another. There was a sense of frantic urgency, a desperation to quell both of your needs.

Your hand slid down his torso, experienced fingers easily tugging his zipper down and fumbling around to fish his cock out of his boxers. His hand was on the back of your head, holding you close as the kisses got rougher and messier, all teeth and tongue.

Jungkook felt goosebumps rise on his skin at the first brush of your fingers on his cock, physically fighting to keep himself from bucking into your hand. You broke apart for a moment, eyes widening at the length resting in your palm. “You’re huge,” you breathed, marveling at how he looked with your small hand pumping him. You flashed him a teasing smile, “I didn’t know you were packing, Jungkookie.”

He felt the ego boost shoot adrenaline through his veins, giving rise to the way he snuck his hand under your dress to find your panties. But the childhood nickname still gave off an air of immaturity, leaving him with an annoyed thirst to prove himself. “It’s Jungkook,” he corrected, choosing that moment to slide his fingers into your panties. You let out a surprised gasp, clutching his arm for refuge as his fingers explored, coating in your arousal.

“What’s my name?” His fingers brushed over your dripping entrance, feeling as you gushed out. Embarrassment heated your face as you answered, without meeting his eyes. “Jungkook.”

His dick jumped at your confirmation as he rewarded you with a kiss to your sweet spot, making a shiver run down your body. He started to tug your panties down and pull you closer, both of you frantic with your actions as you lifted your hips and lined his cock up with your entrance. His hand wrapped around your chin, making you look at him before you sunk down.

You kept eye contact, slowly lowering yourself onto his impaling cock, your head falling back as you felt him nestle deeper into your cunt. With each inch, you were sure you’d bottom out, but it wasn’t until he was deep in your guts that you finally found the end.

Jungkook let out a moan when he was finally inside of you, taking in the feeling of having someone wrapped around him for the first time. And it felt so fucking good, the way your velvet walls sucked him in like they wanted to keep him there forever.

And when you lifted your hips up just to come back down again, he felt another rush to his cock, even harder than he was two seconds ago, which he didn’t realize was even possible. If he was a little more sober, he might’ve started worrying about busting too quickly. But with the way you were bouncing in his lap, grinding down on his dick like that, it was the last thing on his mind. All he could focus on you, and the heat wave that seemed to surround you two, pushing you further into each other, and urging you to give in to those hazy thoughts that arose.

Your moans mixed with his, echoing through the empty room, announcing your sin. It didn’t matter. There was no attempt to quiet down, or any shyness of the lewd squelching sounds coming from between you two. Just pants and smacking skin, littered kisses, and shared body heat.

Jungkook had tugged the top of your dress down, freeing your tits to bounce with you. You were busy littering his neck in bites and nips as you grinded down on his lap, your arousal coating his cock for an easy slide. His hands were everywhere, feeling every inch of you. And you leaned right into it.

“Yn–I’m–fuck–” The only time you kissed Jungkook was when he opened his mouth, breaking the lewd symphony of sounds of you two fucking to warn you he was close. You nodded as you pushed your lips onto his, your tongue immediately finding his.

“Go ahead,” you validated, quickening the pace of your hips. Jungkook let out a curse as he felt his balls tighten, ready to shoot his load up into you. He had to stop himself, get a different location quick. “W-where?” His voice was low but whiny as he asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed a little as you tilted your head, “inside. Duh?”

“Fuck,” Jungkook’s grip around your waist tightened. “Are you sure?” He cursed again when you nodded your consent, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you still as he buried himself in your cunt with a loud groan, painting your walls in white. You clenched around him, milking him dry, and making sure it didn’t leak back out. Like the dirty girl you were.

You were going to be the death of him.

Jungkook felt a bolt of lightning go through him as you both rode out your highs. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before—not just because it was his first time, but because it was the first time he’d done something he’d chosen to do. No planning or careful curation of future implications involved. Sure, he’d gotten into his fair share of trouble with Taehyung, guided along by their seniors, Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon. But this was different. This was with you. And it marked the first time Jungkook let his guard down, and indulged in something he’d wanted to do for a long time.

But as the pants died down, and the breathing leveled, the room fell into a heavy silence. Your head had fallen on his shoulder, passed out from the exertion, and had left Jungkook to bear the weight all by himself.

Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck did he just do?

—

Watch out for part two! + Let me know your thoughts on this one!

⇀ TAGLIST | MAIN MLIST

Copyright © 2022, yoon2k | tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, etc

most undesirable || (M)

Spring has sprung and engagement is on the forefront of all of Regency London's young ladies' minds. All except for yours, of course– the Queen's niece who a certain notorious author has named the Ton's most undesirable.

pairing: lord!jungkook x lady!reader

word count: 5k

genre: BRIDGERTON AU, regency era, angst, eventual smut

warnings: cocaine usage (not oc or jk), oc has dead parents

A/N: this fic was commissioned by the lovely Baby. As per her request, it features me and our beloved izzy! please do let me know if you would like a part two, i have big plans for whats to come next ;)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART ONE **UNEDITED**

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A word of profanity left your painted lips as the outsoles of your lace-up boots danced across the limestone floor of the palace, making haste but not in a manner that was unbecoming, your head held high despite your mood running low.

You reached the door of Her Majesty's room with purpose, hands fiddling with the satin of your dress to make sure it covered your shoes. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the influx of garments your dear aunt had gifted you upon your arrival. Still, the heels Her Majesty had deemed in style this season were particularly uncomfortable. She would no doubt grow sour to see you parading in countryside shoes in her home.

"Your highness." One of the oldest guards snickered, his eyes flicking towards you knowingly as he and another guard moved to open the grand doors to their Queen's private quarters.

You crunched your nose, "Shh." 

Of course, the guards had already read the paper… Rotten gossips.

Willing a smile onto your face, you were let into the room. Your aunt sat at her sofa, the furniture floral in design, its fabric dyed a luxurious red. Between her hands were the source of your dismay, the newest Lady Whistledown papers fresh off the press. 

You hadn't had the pleasure of reading this week's issue personally, but word traveled outrageously fast in the palace; both maids and guards suckers for a good scandal. You knew quite intimately the matter of its content as you were the matter of its content.

"Ah. Niece. There you are.” The Queen called you over, setting the paper down beside her unceremoniously.

You walked closer stiffly, "Aunt Charlotte, you wished to speak to me?"

"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."

Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.

"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you. 

"I do, don't I?" She agreed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"

"Um–"

"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.

The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.

"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.

"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."

You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"

You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."

It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.

Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived simply in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come move to England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as to purchase land for her sister and soon to be niece.

But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.

It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.

You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma that your aunt raved on and on about.

In the week you had been here, you had come to know far more about British aristocracy than you ever wished to know, entirely out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. Only recently had you managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.

You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.

"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.

The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.

"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.

The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"

"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."

Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they'd inevitably catch up with you.

They were pleasant enough company, the duo were quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you learned you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to but still… surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?

"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside actually."

"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion!"

You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.

Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.

"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."

In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"

"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."

You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.

"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."

Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.

"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"

But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"

You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"

"Dear, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes sizing you up with concern.

"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.

"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"

You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you care to assist me with planning?"

Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."

"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.

A furrow found your brow.

"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And just like that you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.

"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a pointed look.

"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.

Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.

And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy. 

You looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.

"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.

"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.

Bowing, you moved to exit the room.

"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"

You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.

You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.

It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.

Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes had come from far and wide, donned in their absolute best; every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds, you thought; the cool-toned dresses reminding you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.

Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.

But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly uneasy. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?

"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her magnificent throne.

"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.

She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"

The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.

"A splendid idea." You concurred.

Granting yourself one final shaky breath, you straightened up, walking towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.

"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.

"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.

The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.

"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."

You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.

"But she's the Queen's niece?"

A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.

Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.

"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.

"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all that time she spent in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"

"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.

You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.

"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.

"It appears the Ton thinks poorly of me." You blurted out.

You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thought of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.

Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."

But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?

"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.

"Take your maids with you!"

You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.

How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.

But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.

"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"

A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.

You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face. 

"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.

"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."

You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.

The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.

He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.

It was the sound of your cries that pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.

He was in the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.

He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes all but beckoning you to lower your guards.

"Lord Jeon.” He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."

You sank back down onto the bench, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful… puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.

"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."

Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air is good for the soul."

You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench. 

"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses surrounding you.

You blinked, "Is that so?"

"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.

You smiled softly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.

"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here." 

"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.

"You laughed." You raised a brow.

He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.

"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.

For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.

"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed. 

He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."

"Funny. It would appear you and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.

"Uptown girl, are you?"

"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.

He let out a sigh.

"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."

You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.

"Is that all?"

Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.

"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."

He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.

He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.

Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.

"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.

Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.

Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm. 

No. Not A line. A letter.

L-O-V-E-R-? 

He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.

His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him. He only hoped it would work for you the way he had for him.

Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.

F-A-M-I-L-Y-?

A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.

L-O-N-E-L-Y you wrote.

"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.

"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.

Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.

"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running over you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.

He wrote into your palm again.

C-O-L-D-?

You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.

"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.

F-R-I-E-N-D-?

His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wondered how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.

F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.

Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.

The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.

"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"

You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate. 

"Lonely."

"You think?" He pondered.

"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.

"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."

"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You chuckled.

"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.

You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."

You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.

You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses along side it.

Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.

"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.

"I don't see why not." You laughed.

The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.

Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.

"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.

"To?" You questioned.

He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.

"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.

But before you could touch glasses…

"Your highness!"

Your eyes went wide, your stomach dropping as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.

"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch. 

Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.

"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.

You cursed internally.

"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."

The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.

"But your highness—"

"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly. 

The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.

Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.

Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.

"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide. 

"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"

The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.

You were rambling before you could help yourself.

"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…" 

You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.

"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.

You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.

"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."

The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.

The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.

"No. I'm not."

"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.

You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.

"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.

The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief. 

"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.

Rolling your eyes, you failed to fight back a smile, bringing your champagne glass up to meet his, his smirk assuring you that whoever your aunt wished you to meet could wait a moment or two. 

affluenza | jjk series

A Gossip Girl AU by yoon2k

⇀ SUMMARY Trust funds, scandals, and a whole lot of secrets. With you in the center of it all.

⇀ PAIRING Jungkook x Reader

⇀ RATE 18+

⇀ GENRE Rich Kids AU, Gossip Girl AU, college AU

⇀ WARNINGS classism, angst, smut, infidelity, loss of virginity, recreational drug use, mentions of addiction, POV switches, cameos from the other members, + specific warnings per chapter.

⇀ STATUS ongoing

⇀ DISCLAIMER I do not own or claim to own the Gossip Girl franchise or any of the characters (obviously).

PART I ⇢ PILOT

PART II ⇢ loading...

⇀ TAGLIST

⇀ MAIN MLIST

Copyright © 2022, yoon2k | tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, etc

risqué (m) | 3

➵ summary; in which serious feelings start to blossom and jungkook slowly begins to understand what he has gotten himself into. however, just as things start to fall into place, his boss returns to the office earlier than expected.

➵ series masterlist · playlist · risqué tag · taglist

pairing; jungkook x f. reader

word count; 22,291 (whoops hah)

rating; 18+

content; age gap au + (kind of) secret relationship au, smut/fluff/angst

warnings; mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, swearing, dirty talk, kissing, nipple play, dom!jk, grinding, fingering, oral sex (f & m), multiple orgasms, bondage, ass play, spit, rimming, choking, manhandling, degrading names, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all!), cream pie

a/n; finally!! part 3 of the risqué series is here and i’m so relieved and happy to post it ugh- i hope all of you enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <33 here’s a reference photo (minus the eyebrow piercing) for the second last scene where oc and jungkook are in his car :) enjoy!

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 26: Judicium

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst

WC: 10.2k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, blood, bullying, past physical/emotional abuse, guns, knife, slightly (?) descriptive murder, anxiety attacks, implied past suicide attempt, depression, ptsd. Again, pls let me know if there is something that ought to be a warning and I forgot. 

This chapter is heavy guys…

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

“You lied to me… Why?”

Jungkook is frozen in his place as he stares at the images of your sweet smile.

When he finally drags his eyes up to Taehyung, he sees the hitman breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tries to control his rage.

“Why did you lie to me?”

Taehyung’s voice shakes with his attempt at staying calm.

“I knew you would kill her if you found out I didn’t,” Jungkook says quietly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you kill her?”

His voice is still eerily calm.

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat.

He doesn’t know how to answer that.

He’s sure that the truth will infuriate him even more.

But lying doesn’t seem like such a good idea right now either.

“Answer me.”

Keep reading

evolution of a lover's heart | 04

the rules are simple: first one to take the virginity wins.

pairing: fuckboy!jk x f reader

genre: fluff, angst, college au, fuckboy au, bet au

word count: 28k

warnings:  talks about: pregnancies. a horror movie with fingers sawed off, sad feelings, happy feelings, sad feelings again, infidelity,

masterlist

part 4/5 

<previous | next>

© evolution of a lover’s heart is copyright jeonstudios 2021. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: okay so jokes on you, jokes on me, im splitting this part up too :,,,,( part 4 (which is already a part of part 2) became too long yikes. so there’ll be a part 5 ripppp

Gguk?”

“Uhm… yeah?” he confirms, confused as to why you look so confused, peeking out from behind your door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was Monday already!”

Jeongguk’s heart sinks. “Oh, are you busy? We can do another time if this isn’t a good one…”

“No, no, I just have something I need to finish up, but it’ll only take me another half an hour or so, so come in.”

The door opens wider, enough for him to step inside, and he does, eyes traveling curiously along your figure. You’re in a fluffy, blue robe despite it being afternoon.

“What are you…” he begins, trailing behind you into the kitchen, where there’s a ton of white fabric occupying the table right next to a sewing machine, and it dawns on him.

Keep reading

lovefool [3/4] (jjk)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre: angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Summary: Your boyfriend's pretty girl best friend keeps hogging up your alone time with him.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: mental illness (depression, anxiety), um angst and fluff (kind of), no closure lmao, yuna is cryptic

Note: so, that took long, i know its a bit hhhhghh but it'll make sense soon i promise 😁 I mean you definitely saw that coming

Yuna woke up to an empty bed in the morning. She does recollect Jungkook being in bed, next to her, as she drifted off to sleep.

Yuna isn’t exactly oblivious to her…. hostility towards you. It’s not that she focuses on the way she treats you and does and says things with intent, it’s an automatic reaction. The way she imagines it is that she is indifferent to your existence and role in Jungkook’s life. Although, for someone who claims to not care about you, she spends an awful lot of time criticizing every one of your aspects.

She doesn’t like your face and your hair. She hates your makeup and clothes and thinks the way you present yourself is unauthentic. The way you act all coy around people, around her friends. Her words, not mine. Convinced that you fake your interest in her, she would rather have you hate her to her face than pretend to like her and trash her behind her back. In a way, Yuna is very bold and mostly upfront. Keyword, mostly.

Evidently, the two women each have insecurities built around the other.

You know Yuna is unreceptive of you and is very passive-aggressive. You’re stuck on the same sentiments of overreacting, overthinking, jealousy or insecurity. They’re all rooting from the same tree.

She wanders off into Jungkook’s kitchen to raid his fridge. She finds a little casserole with lasagne and a note attached on the glass lid that read ‘only good for three days!! love, _____ xx.’

“I did not wake up at six o’clock in the morning to see this shit,” she mutters to herself.

She crumbles your note and tosses it into the half-full bin. The casserole is almost empty so she decides to wipe the dish clean by herself. Jungkook wouldn’t mind if it’s her.

While she microwaved your casserole, she couldn’t help but snoop around in his kitchen drawers. Finding items like matching mini beverage mugs, lilac ceramic shot glasses, personal notes addressed to him with little heart doodles on them, sketch pens and pencil crayons, a stack of heart and star-shaped post-its (pink ones at that), and stickers that looked like they were yours but she knew were at least shared with Jungkook’s. Even a little gesture like keeping separate stationery really shows how much Jungkook might actually be invested in you. It worries her.

She hurriedly devoured the lasagne and washed the dish.

Her thoughts revisit their mini get together (yesterday), when Jungkook fondled you in his doorway while she was in his kitchen. She doesn’t think you knew she could see you. She felt intrusive and rather ‘left out’ in a way.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to indulge in these voyeuristic acts. She has walked in on him many times before and he never cared enough to stop but would simply smirk at her, he’s even had Taehyung watch him on various occasions. This time, it felt a little more personal.

Even as a woman who ‘supports other women’, it’d make her happier to know that Jungkook was using you as a scapegoat, you know, first girlfriend in a long time and all. Much to her dismay, that wasn’t the case and it adds on to her insecurity.

A gentle ping from the main door alerts her of Jungkook’s return. You stumble in before him. Yuna had a strange feeling in her gut about what was about to unfold. “Hi,” you whisper. “Morning,” Yuna struts towards Jungkook’s bedroom and disappears inside.

You’re curious about what her next move would be. You believe you’re a bad judge of character. When you met Yuna, she was warm and was open to getting to know you as a person. One would think she’d be a bit more enthusiastic about it when you’re dating her best friend. Everything she has shown you only displayed aggressiveness. This leads you to believe that she thinks you’re truly terrible or not a good match for her best friend, or that you might have walked into a ‘could have been’ situation. You know, with her and Jungkook. Either way, you have some clarity of the fact that neither of it is your fault.

Jungkook emerges from the kitchen, a dainty plate in hand with a croissant and what you hope is the blueberry jam. “Do you want to sit here or in the kitchen or?”

Ideally, you had imagined this with him alone. Why isn’t he worried about Yuna listening to you? Is she here to comfort him? You don’t think he’s evil enough to plan this as for when you’re done, he can be whisked away to God knows where for his stupid outdoor activity weekend. Your mood had drastically shifted from confusion and upset to a strange anxious one. Your adrenaline was pumping already.

“The kitchen,” you whisper, deducting that it’s better to be as far away as possible from the bedroom, “-please.”

Somewhere, you doubt that you’re making too much of a big deal out of this. You’re terrified of confrontations and what lies after.

Jungkook can already sense your tears. “You didn’t defend me,” you begin. Jungkook tilts his head and past scenarios with you are violently rushing back into his head. “When Yuna said I would be a burden on you on your weekend. And, I had reserved these two days for us because I know we wouldn’t be able to hang out as much after.” Jungkook blankly stares at you. You don’t even want the croissant anymore. “And I left because I was upset but you didn’t stop me from leaving,” “I’m here now, I was on my way to your place first thing in the morning, _____.”

You frown, “But you’re still leaving. I feel ridiculous even talking about this. I know I don’t have a right to tell you what to do but I wish you’d notice me and acknowledge me as your girlfriend.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide open. His mouth opens and shuts a few times. “Do you… want to come along that bad? You know, you absolutely can and I’ll make space for you, I’ll take you there myself, it’s no problem!” “That’s not it!” He’s so close. “You- I don’t think Yuna likes me very much and you don’t seem to care.”

“You make me so happy but when she’s in the room, it’s all about you and her. I don’t mean to sound jealous but I can’t help it. And, you prioritize her over me a lot more than I signed up for.”

Jungkook glances up at his bedroom door and finds Yuna glaring at the back of your head.

Did he really miss all of this?

“So you expect him to choose between you and me?”

Your head snaps to look at the owner of the voice.

“I never said that,” you stress. “No, you implied it,” she shot back.

“I made an observation.”

Jungkook felt like a giant fool. He was the personification of the elephant in the room. He’s used to sticking up for his friends but not against each other. You’re his girlfriend, he’s positive he sees you romantically but Yuna is his oldest friend. His morality is a little clouded because there is so much emotion attached to both the women. He knows he’s an absolute loser if he isn’t able to jump in and come to a resolution.

Ironically, he feels worthless in this situation. He has managed to embarrass himself in front of his girlfriend and it’s a brand new emotion to him.

While he is in the state of internal monologue, you and Yuna are going at it.

This wasn’t her fight to fight. This wasn’t between the three of you, just the two of you.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears your chair screech. You’ve stood up to face Yuna.

“I feel like I’m dating both of you! You’re everywhere he is. I cannot compete with you and th- this was never meant to get to this point! It’s because of YOU and YOU weren’t supposed to be here! I can’t even argue with my boyfriend without you stepping in FOR him.”

He never imagined so much uncertainty and anger would come out of someone like you.

For a second, he almost found himself feeling defensive of Yuna. He managed to clear his judgement the moment you looked him in the eye. Just an hour ago, you wouldn’t even smile at him. The anxiety he felt resurfaced and knocked his senses right in.

“_____. That’s not true. I promise you; you don’t have to compete with anyone.”

You’re on the verge of tears and can feel an oncoming headache. “I’m tired of you not acknowledging her presence in OUR relationship. You do see it too, don’t you?” you question softly. “Don’t you talk about me like I’m not here,” “Yuna, you weren’t SUPPOSED to be here. I don’t like feeling this way, I’ve always been nice to you but you hate me and I don’t know how to pretend I don’t realize it.”

Jungkook slowly reaches out to hold your hand. He never expected to be in a situation where two people he loved so much were at odds with each other. Yuna’s lips were quavering. Who is he supposed to lend a shoulder to? Yuna doesn’t even deny your words. “Yuu…”

“I can’t help how I feel.”

Jungkook looked so defeated. He was most disappointed in himself that he couldn’t make you feel more secure.

“_____, come here. I swear I had no idea you felt this way. Baby?” He pulls you closer. “It’s not your fault. I needed to learn to understand my feelings,” “Baby, I never wanted you to feel like you aren’t important to me. This is still a budding relationship and I don’t want to screw anything up for us, ever.” Jungkook speaks softly but sternly.

It was loud enough for Yuna to hear. She’s dumbfounded. She has never felt this disrespected and discarded before.

Inevitably, everything Yuna had planned for them had come to a halt.

“_____, I would do anything for you to feel okay again. I like you too much.”

You’re pathetic. That’s really all it takes for you to get roped back into it. You know Jungkook isn’t some cold-hearted monster. You have just never felt love of any kind. And you really needed a release. You’re too scared to look at Yuna now.

You don’t want to carry the burden of a faltered friendship on your head. You’re too scared to embrace your own boyfriend back because of the sudden rush of emotions that went through you- guilt, nervousness, sadness. You know most of this is tied to your mental illness and you’re trying your best to realise that Jungkook’s decision is his own and not dependent on you.

“_____?” Jungkook worries about the lack of response from you. You find yourself crying. That tiny bit of reassurance and importance Jungkook had given you left you absolutely overwhelmed. You’re unable to speak but you stuff your face into your hands and push against his chest, muffling your sobs. His heart felt heavy when he felt you shiver into him.

He’s in an awkward place, physically and emotionally. He chooses to comfort you first. All this while he finds himself having a staredown with Yuna.

Old habits die hard. It’s the statement Jungkook found himself familiar to the most at this moment. The small ounces of doubt and hesitation he felt resonated with it. He’s used to Yuna and his instincts tilt towards her. And, even though you mentioned that you weren’t expecting him to choose between the two of you, he was smart enough to understand to keep his distance from his old friend. At least for a few days.

Once again, Yuna feels left out. She is repulsed by your display today a lot more than she was yesterday. Her blood boiled to see her best friend with you. Maybe, she is too used to being pampered by Jungkook. Yuna, in the midst of this, had also found clarity in her head, as had Jungkook. She knew what would come next. She knows him well. It wasn’t a very calculated move but her emotions got the best of her.

“I- Yuna, just- I think you should leave. I’ll text you later.”

Jungkook hadn’t let go of you yet. He mentally noted to order in a dozen or two of strawberries. He wanted to spoil you and make you feel his love. He also set a mental reminder to text Taehyung so he could check up on Yuna in his place.

Still pressed up against his chest and you find yourself dozing off a little. You didn’t say half of the things you planned to but you had way too many surprises (disruptions) and panicked. You do applaud yourself for being able to get your feelings across for once. You’re thankful for Jungkook’s wit and empathy.

Half of the things were still unresolved (hint: Yuna), but you did well for one day. Your therapist would be so proud.

Of course, this ended a little too well. Trust when you say, you called it. You couldn’t have predicted what happened next. Out of all the scenarios in your head, this was the one that you least expected.

“Jungkook.”

“I really can’t talk to you now, Yuna.”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

You feel Jungkook stop breathing for a second or two. You’re scared to see the look on his face when his arms loosen around you. If you were brave, you would’ve socked Yuna in the face. But you’re not brave or violent.

Jungkook feels your tears drench through his shirt and snaps out of his little assumed reverie.

“Jungkook.”

“Yuna," his voice quivers, "Please stop.”

Her sharp eyes trace your silhouettes. “_____, just remember that before you, it was me.”

bitter sweet | 1

— After his father’s illness got worse, Jungkook had to step up and help his family and the business. On top of all that emotional stress, Jungkook also cannot escape the overwhelming feelings he has been harboring for you since you met.  When you finally make up after a rift in your friendship, he’s not going to let anything come between you, but he’s not sure he can stop himself any longer from crossing that line he’d taught himself to avoid for years. — 

- Jungkook x reader (gn)

- genre: slow burn, angst, fluff, (eventually) implied smut | best friends to lovers, coffee shop au

- word count: 5.6k

- warnings: mentions of depression, mental health issues, parents with health problems

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 15: Someone Like You

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst, fluff

WC: 7.7k 

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, smoking, mentions of stalking, talk of past illegal drug dealing, 

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

You’ve called him seven times today. 

Seven times and he hasn’t answered yet. 

You’re sitting on your couch, worrying your bottom lip as you send him yet another text message. 

jungkook are you okay? please just tell me you’re alright.

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since yesterday after he left your place.

The police officers outside came to your door yesterday evening and told you that they had found Kihyun.

But he was dead. 

Keep reading

Take all of my Firsts.

Genre : awkward humans in love. A lot of first times done wrong? Or possibly done just right. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Its written by me. Thats all the warning you’re gonna get. also Jungkook here is a whole cutie i’m in love. 

Summary : After getting fired and blacklisted for refusing to sleep with her boss, 26 year old Hana is kind of desperate for a job. So much so, she applies to be the secretary of the painfully awkward, absolutely anti-social Jeon Jungkook, the bumbling CEO of a brand new start up company. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

1. First Date. (1/?) 

 “ This is blue.” Jeon Jungkook’s impressively large figure filled the entryway to my tiny cubicle, shoulders brushing the two wooden frames on either side of him and when he carefully stepped into the workspace, the rickety old boards beneath our feet creaked ominously. 

Keep reading

superdad 2 | jjk

⏤ pairing: dilf!jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parents au, established relationship, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: M

⏤ warnings: short-haired!jungkook, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, mention of sex, oc and jungkook stop using protection during sex, mention of pregnancy, mention of infertility, jungkook negotiates with his daughter, shirtless jungkook, teasing, see-through clothing, jungkook is obsessed with playlists, handjob, oral sex (m.receiving), light hair pulling, swearing, pet names, breasts play, nipple sucking, nipple play, fingers sucking, fingering, kind of cockwarming, mention of postpartum struggles, riding, penetrative sex, and unprotected sex,  

⏤ words: 7,874

⏤ summary: two years after you and jungkook became parents for the first time, you’re trying to have a second little one. so your nights turn into hot steamy sex nights, every time your daughter is sleeping is an excuse to try to conceive a little one. but there’s nothing sweeter than seeing your daughter yeona with jungkook, proving you once more that you chose the right superdad for your children.

⏤ author’s note: here it is!! it’s really exciting to post something and i truly hope you’ll love it! again a massive thank you to @xpeachesncream​ for being so supportive throughout all my little struggles ❤️don’t hesitate to let me know what you think about it & of course, i wish the happiest birthday to our sweet and loving jungkook! he truly deserves the world! love you all & take care ❤️

SUPERDAD | MASTERLIST

Keep reading

(road)tripping for you | jjk

“it was just supposed to be a roadtrip; your best friend, her boyfriend, his best friend, and you. but it gets a little more complicated (and a whole lot more awkward) when your best friend and her boyfriend have to drop out and you’re left to go on the trip with none other than jeon jungkook, a complete stranger. well, a complete stranger except for the fact that you hooked up two years ago.”

— genre: roadtrip! AU, strangers to lovers! AU, only-one-bed! AU, summer! AU, fluff, a bit of angst

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 31.071

— warnings: cursing, light alcohol consumption, awkward situations, clichés

— playlist: the official soundtrack to (road)tripping for you

— a/n: alright im happy and incredibly nervous to present this baby !! its completely self-indulgent, cheesy as shit, and not really edited, so i hope you guys enjoy! id also like to thank lira @koocycle​ for listening to me cry about this fic!! couldnt have done this without you! also, this is my entry for @ficscafe​’s exchange event, written for @jeonsweetheart​​ !! i really do hope you enjoy this one and sorry that this is so long! i uh also stalked your blog a bit and was inspired by how you assign a song to every fic, so i did the same! hope you dont mind!! my pick for this au is “safety net” by ariana grande !!

— lyric: tripping, falling, with no safety net 

The summer is always too short.

The realisation comes to you while you’re waiting in the car and fanning yourself with a make-shift paper fan because the AC broke two weeks ago and you haven’t had the money to get it fixed yet, waiting for Sooyoung who just walked into the convenience store to buy some snacks. 

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 14: Beyond My Control

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst, fluff, romance, drama

WC: 8k

Warnings for this chapter: this chapter gets heavy guys! strong language, blood, minor character death, homicide, use of a gun, mentions of stalking, mentions of intended noncon, creeper being creepy af, insinuated past physical and emotional abuse, jungkook is a damned fool when it comes to feelings he is v confused give him a lil break tho 🥺, oc is too pure for this world, fluff that’ll kill you and bring you back to life simultaneously, Barbie slander 😤 jk has an epiphany

Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @bangtannie7 @yoonchrisgull @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf @jksbbyfacebunny @kookiesxbananamilk @voidswan-recs @sadxaries @bts-junseagull @jinfused @taehyungiev13 @gaeguuliii @kimnamjoonluvbot @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinn @surilirani @patpus @yukiehyukie @crypticsabbat @ohyeahjk @steffiiirose @the-falling-star @telepathytae @erenkook ​ 

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

Jungkook’s brain short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist and stuff your face into his shirt.

“Please-” You hiccup, “Please s-stay with m-me, Jungkook.”

He’s frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

You hug him tighter, rubbing your face into his t-shirt and wetting it with your tears.

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 13: A Game Of Hearts

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, drama

WC: 11.8k woooo hold onto ya butts 

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, stalking, a creeper being creepy, a little blood, jungkook is confused about human fEeLinS and is having a crisis, jungkook is mean, mina is mean, everyone is heckin mean, a cute kitten so beware, tae is trying but ya know he’s just a dumbass, this chapter is a gd mess guys so I’m sorry. I think that’s it… let me know if i missed anything i should add. 

If you see a typo no you didnt.

Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @bangtannie7 @yoonchrisgull @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf @jksbbyfacebunny @kookiesxbananamilk @voidswan @sadxaries @bts-junseagull @jinfused @taehyungiev13 @gaeguuliii @kimnamjoonluvbot @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinn @surilirani @patpus @yukiehyukie @crypticsabbat @ohyeahjk @steffiiirose @the-falling-star @telepathytae @erenkook​ 

Previous > Next

A chill goes down his spine as Jungkook watches you smile at him and skip closer while taking a little bite out of your cotton candy duck. 

“I-”

“Is…it…done?”

Jungkook swallows thickly and clears his throat before turning and walking toward the entrance of the fair. 

You stop skipping and watch Jungkook curiously. 

What is he doing?

You saw him answer the phone and then a look came over his face, something you couldn’t decipher. He was smiling a second earlier…

Now he’s leaving the fair…

Panic surges through you as you freeze, your sweaty hands gripping your cotton candy and teddy bear. 

Is he leaving you?

Why is he leaving you?

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 11: Dandelion

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, drama

WC: 6k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, that’s it I think oop-

Tag list; Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @bangtannie7 @yoonchrisgull @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf @jksbbyfacebunny @kookiesxbananamilk @voidswan @sadxaries @bts-junseagull @jinfused @taehyungiev13 @jadethd @kimnamjoonluvbot @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinnn @surilirani @patpus @yukiehyukie @crypticsabbat @ohyeahjk @steffiiirose @the-falling-star

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

After a minute, Jungkook looks up at you and you feel your heart break at the agony in his eyes.

“____,” He whispers. 

“Y-Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

Keep reading

lowkey (jjk) | 17. (final)

⦿ boo’d up in the daytime

⦿ mackin’ & hangin’ in the nighttime

↳ series masterlist

summary: in order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, jeon jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the ways of dating.

pairing: popular!reader x nerd!jjk

genre: college au, fake dating au, friends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 6.0k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, flashback scene included in chapter, kook and peanut go on a little weekend camping trip, some future talk, kook finally sings for peanut :(, unprotected sex, missionary, fingering, lots of soft kisses and making out, lots of tender touches, breast play, slight marking, praising, cock riding

note: we’ve made it 🥺 i really cannot thank you all enough for the love and support you have shown this series, it mean so much to me. i know i haven’t been able to respond to every single comment/reblog, but please know that i’ve seen them all and i truly appreciate every single one of you. stay tuned for more peanut and kook!

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Jimin calls out to Jungkook, pointing at the counter before Kook can officially walk out of the door.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, you idiot. You’re welcome.” Jimin laughs before smacking him upside the head. “How the heck are you gonna make this a complete, romantic camping trip when you don’t even have the cookware?” Jimin pushes the kit towards him.

“Thanks dude. Lifesaver as fuck.”

“You two gonna be okay?” Hoseok chimes in, turning in his position from the couch to look at Jungkook.

“Yeah, I’m taking her to the spot my uncle used to take us for camping.”

Keep reading

lowkey (jjk) | 14.

⦿ boo’d up in the daytime

⦿ mackin’ & hangin’ in the nighttime

↳ series masterlist

summary: in order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, jeon jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the ways of dating.

pairing: popular!reader x nerd!jjk

genre: college au, fake dating au, friends (with benefits?) to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 4.6k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, alcohol consumption and intoxication, club scene, marijuana use (not oc or any of the boys), still some overthinking but peanut is doing her best to just take the days as they come, physical/verbal altercation, wounds (small cuts), mentions of bleeding (only slightly, nothing too gory), disrespectful toxic seokjin, first aid and caring for wounds, some awkward tension?

It was almost like the universe was trying to keep you two apart, or so you thought. You had seen less of Jungkook during the weeks, unsure if he was intentionally hiding away for personal reasons or just to be away from the crowd, not be the talk on campus. Even when you did catch sight of him, he’d give you a small smile, tug on his backpack strap and walk off with his head hung low.

You had no idea what it meant, had no idea if he still wanted to keep his word about being there for you, if he still even wanted you around— even as a friend.

But, you tried not to dwell on it, even post-accidental phone call that happened 2-3 weeks ago [you aren’t even sure anymore, time flies]. You tried to remember that things were happening for a reason, things were playing out this way for a reason. If you and Jungkook were meant to be around each other, it would happen at the right time. It still didn’t change the fact that you missed him, though. That you wished things didn’t get so deeply complicated for no reason.

Keep reading

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 10: On The Line

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst, fluff

WC: 4k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, a gun, everyone is confused about their feelings and oblivious

Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @bangtannie7 @yoonchrisgull @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf @jksbbyfacebunny @kookiesxbananamilk @voidswan @sadxaries @bts-junseagull @jinfused @taehyungiev13 @jadethd @kimnamjoonluvbot @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinnn @surilirani @patpus @yukiehyukie @crypticsabbat

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

Jungkook likes you?

The events of today won’t stop going around in circles in your head. 

You clutch the giant octopus stuffie close to your chest, your legs wrapping around it. Your face is a bright red as you try to calm your breathing. 

The more you think about it, the faster your heart races. 

You need to calm down. 

Mina was mistaken. 

Yes, that’s all it was. 

Keep reading

lowkey (jjk) | 10.

⦿ boo’d up in the daytime

⦿ mackin’ & hangin’ in the nighttime

↳ series masterlist

summary: in order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, jeon jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the ways of dating.

pairing: popular!reader x nerd!jjk

genre: college au, fake dating au, friends (with benefits?) to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 4.3k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, more angsty stuff, party scene, some fun lighthearted dancing with the boys, alcohol consumption and intoxication, mentions of drugs and weed, today’s episode of seokjin being annoying, unprotected sex, straddling, riding dick, making out, some breast/nipple play

Except, Jungkook does hurt you and he doesn’t even realize it.

The month is coming to a close and Jungkook had quickly become the most sought out boy on campus, girls flocking left and right— forgetting you even existed.

And that’s no one’s fault besides his, since he hadn’t been able to consistently see you like he used to. Always caught up in some shit, meeting new people and getting wrapped up in this new identity of his. People were slowly forgetting the fact that you two were ’serious.’ Texts were left high and dry. Even when he did pick you up for school, he’d forget or do some dumb shit that required you to catch a ride with Sunmi or even Taehyung.

Keep reading