Forever Has A Limit

Forever Has A Limit

; Jungkook x Reader

; Genre: Angst

; Word Count: 2.3k

; Warnings: Infidelity, low self-esteem

; A/N: Sorry. Lol

-

“I’m sorry.” You whisper quietly, playing with the pile of mashed potatoes nervously. Your stomach feels like you’re on a rollercoaster, dipping with nausea that has you swallowing thickly to try and stave the vomit.

He pauses, a forkful of chicken halfway to his looks before he looks at your with a frown marring that beautiful face you’d fallen in love with with so long ago. When you’d first started dating it had been wonderful and he’d looked at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky and coloured in the sun for him.

Now you were lucky if he talked to you at all. But you still loved him so much - he made your heart trip when he smiled and your lips smile when he laughed. He just didn’t seem to do it anymore with you. Not since her.

“Sorry for what?” The quick glance to the side has you guessing that he’s trying to figure out if he’s done something wrong. Which makes you laugh, because he has. But you’re stupid, and you’d forgive him if he’d just come back to you.

Keep reading

to be loved is to be seen.

pairings. idol!jungkook x reader

genres/aus. fluff, established relationship, idol!au

warnings. mentions of smoking and alcohol

masterlist

—

“i’m going to use the bathroom real quick.” you tell jungkook as you lift yourself off the couch. he’s quick to stand up with you but you lightly push him down, your index finger grazed against his skin from the buttons on his shirt being unbuttoned and exposing a bit of his chest.

you shake your head. “stay, i’ll be back.” you say while pulling one side of his shirt closed to hide the bareness. girls have been staring at him and trying to come up to him and it’s getting annoying.

his bottom lip is pushed out slightly, pouting before he lets you go alone.

jungkook watches you make it to the stairs until you disappear from his sight.

you’re thankful the bathroom wasn’t occupied and you could easily walk in, locking the door behind you.

anxious thoughts invade your mind. the five drinks you’ve had can’t even cloud your thoughts nor make you tipsy enough—curse your body for not being a lightweight.

jungkook’s friends had invited you two to a party and originally he didn’t want to go because you were with him and he wanted to be with you. but he barely gets to see his friends and it’s been awhile since he’s been out with them. it took a bit to persuade him but he gave in on the exception that you came. and you didn’t mind. you thought it would be fun. it was fun.

but his friends aren’t your friends and your social battery around strangers tends to drain fast. they’re nice people and all, but now you just want to go home.

this was your idea you know… yeah well, you’re gonna tough it out for him because he’s having a good time and you’re gonna do anything for him. good pep talk!

“__?” three soft knocks and his sudden voice makes you jump, realizing you’ve been standing in front of the sink, stuck in your head.

“hang on!” you shout out, quickly using the restroom and washing your hands before you step out to meet the boy on your mind.

his eyes find yours quickly, trying to decipher any changes in your body language or to read anything going on behind your orbs.

“you okay? you’ve been in there for awhile so i came up to check on you.” he asks with concern in his voice.

you try to smile but it comes out small. “yeah, sorry,” you opened your mouth to continue but nothing comes out.

a couple drunkenly tumbles up the stairs, heading towards you both but he’s quick to grasp onto your waist and move you both against the wall. the couple passes you and disappears into a room, slamming the door behind them.

both of you slowly turn your heads to look at each other with raised eyebrows and you burst into fits of laughter. him still holding onto you, as you two start to quiet down. the scent of his cologne and cigarettes permeated your nostrils, remembering him and his friends were outside smoking earlier. in the early stages of you two dating, the smell used to bother you, so jungkook had the notion to smoke outside shirtless so the smell doesn’t catch onto his clothes and to brush his teeth so he can kiss you easily. now you’re used to it.

suddenly, he’s gazing down upon you. “you tired?”

immediately shakes your head, “no.”

he lets out a deep breath and hums, sliding a hand into the front pocket of his jeans before throwing the other over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as he guides you downstairs.

“well i am. let’s go home.” he declares, his head turning left and right to find where his friends went while you just gawk at him.

but you don’t say nothing.

once you both reach his group of friends, they’re heads turn towards you both. “guys i’m feeling tired so we’re gonna head home.”

“what, already?”

“that’s cool, thanks for coming man.”

you released yourself from jungkook so they could bid their manly goodbyes, them also thanking you for coming and saying it was good to see you.

jungkook links his hand with yours as you both make your way out the building onto the streets. with your hand in his, he brings it up to his face and softly kisses the back of it three times.

you fondly stare at him before hanging your head as you watch both your pairs of feet walk in sync.

“sorry i made you leave early, i know you said you were tired because of me. i didn’t mean to force you to leave ‘cus i know you were having fun–“

he stops in his tracks and squeezes your hand. “baby, ever since i met you, the thought of being without you made me crazy. so what makes you think i’d want to be out without you?” he expresses, taking your face in the palm of his hands and pressing his lips against yours in a short kiss. “plus, being at home in bed with you honestly sounds really fucking good right now.”

a timid smile stretched onto your lips before you reached on your tippy toes to kiss him again. “i love you.”

“i love you, silly. now let’s go home. are you hungry, ‘cus im craving ramen and i might make some when we get home.”

“ramen actually sounds really good right now.”

it’s 3am as i finish this so enjoy another self indulgent jungkook brain rot :D the way ill be at an outing w family or friends having fun but then two hours pass and with the snap of fingers i go quiet and have a rbf and i’m ready to go home and be in bed💀 anyway likes & reblogs are v much appreciated !! stay safe and healthy <33

pairings. jungkook x reader (f)

genres/aus. comfort, established relationship

warnings. descriptions of anxiety

notes. another self indulgent writing with jk on my mind <3

masterlist

—

oh god. why do you do this to yourself? and always at this time at night, always when you have to piss too.

it’s late, around 1:30 in the morning and your boyfriend is sound asleep peacefully snoring into his pillow. you’ve grown accustomed to his sleeping habits and it’s now become something you miss on those months he’s gone for work.

he fell asleep easily, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out fast. muttering an ‘i love you’ half asleep before slumber took over.

you’ve been scrolling on your phone switching from different apps back to tiktok. until one specific tiktok appeared on your for you page, one that piqued your interest with the eerie sound. a lady was explaining a nightmare she had and how she saw a creepy, shadow face with picture evidence. and now you can’t unsee it and you paused the video because the sound was becoming overwhelming and suddenly you feel like it was in the room with you.

you remember how you had to pee and that urge comes back but no way are you walking that three feet in the dark.

you scroll past the video and it’s one showing an otter swimming in a pool. yes, much better.

but that haunting image keeps flashing behind your eyes, so you exit out the app and go back to youtube. trying to find one of your comfort videos you always go back to rewatch. you take a peek over your phone to see the faint outline of jungkook on his side, mouth slightly open. oh how i wish that could be me right now.

anxious thoughts hit you again and you wonder if you turn over, would that face be there?

you’ve always been like this since you were little. afraid of the dark and gets easily scared. suddenly you wish you kept that ocean nightlight you had since you were five, but your mom gave it away to your cousins.

there’s only one thing you could think of.

“kook, kook..” you gently shake his shoulder to wake him. it takes a few more tries before he’s awake. your phone automatically turns off from the screen not being touched. leaving your room pitch black.

he breathes out, “what’s wrong? you okay?” you open your phone, illuminating the room a bit.

you bite your lip. “can you walk with me to the bathroom? i’m scared..” do you sound like a child right now?

jungkook, without questions, kicks the blanket off and crawls out of bed to walk around to your side of the bed.

“come on.” he mutters, he holds out his hand for you to grab as you get out of bed. you’re clinging to his side as you take those few steps to the bathroom in your room.

when he turns the light on, you both hiss at the brightness. your appearances in the mirror looks like you’ve been in bed for a bit. but jungkook doesn’t look bothered at all, a small smile that says a million things to you eases your worries.

he leans against the counter with his arms crossed as you do your business before washing your hands.

while you’re in front of the sink, he comes up behind you to circle his arms around your waist. “wake me up always if you need anything, i don’t mind. and if i don’t wake up for the first couple times, i allow you to smack me with a pillow.”

you chuckle. “okay.”

“okay.”

he walks you back to your side of the bed and tucks you in, crawling over you to get on his side. blindly reaching for your hand under your pillow, giving it a squeeze. “put your youtube video on baby.”

you nod, even though he can’t see. then you hear his soft snores again. you lean in to place a kiss on of his forehead before doing as he says.

without you, part 2

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: hey the title rhymes. Hi angels! Part 2 is finally here, by heavy demand! And uh... for those who thought I was gonna fix everything with this part?? No, I'm here to make it worse! Woo! (Don't hate me, I did warn you lmao). So, enjoy the angst! Hope it's worth the wait x

Summary: continuing on from Part 1 - You return after the ‘blip’. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time. Where does that leave you now?

Word count: somewhere in the 2.7k zone idk

Warnings: ANGST. Angst squared, if you will. Broken hearts everywhere. Broken hearted reader. Broken hearted Matty. A brief broken hearted Frank coming in for the rescue. Not a happy ending. Mentions of divorce and the religious thoughts surrounding that, the Blip and the devastation it would've caused, break ups, brief jealousy, heavy denial, anxiety, lots of crying and I just want to hold onto him forever & ever. This is unedited coz I'm lazy and like to just throw things out into the void and die like a warrior.

There’s a vicious, relentless pounding behind your temples when you finally begin to feel the darkness pulling at your mind recede. With the constant stab of pain, everything returns—the apparent lost time, the strange new world that had grown during your absence, the relationships that had also changed during those five years.

Five whole years.

It might as well have been an eternity.

Your whole life, everything you knew—gone. It doesn’t seem real, it’s just not possible, and yet here you are. Here you are in a world that still feels so familiar, and sickeningly not. Your thoughts are a vicious storm in your mind, merely intensifying the throb running along your forehead. Your system flutters between confusion, denial, mourning.

It’s enough to make you want to simply fall back into the blissful void of unconsciousness, until—

“Sweetheart?”

Matt. 

Your heart still jumps at his gentle rasp, a part of you longing to just soften into his hold and cling to him like you’d done so many times before, but you can’t. He’s not—he’s not your Matt. Not anymore. 

It’s hard to pull away from the fingers tracing your cheek, and when you open your eyes, they wince from the light shining through the large windows. He’s knelt on the floor beside you, a frown of concern creasing his brows as you slowly shift on weak limbs until you’re sitting upright on the leather.

You study his features through raw, hazy eyes, and it’s only now you notice the subtle changes you had missed upon your return to the apartment—the few more creases lining his face, the extra spatterings of grey strands amongst his dark tresses. His hair… it’s shorter too, now that you’re really looking. How had you not seen that? Not noticed?

Maybe it was the panic. It had to have been. You didn’t notice anything else when you ran in. Your surroundings had changed within a second, everything was all just so confusing and mad—you had just wanted him, you wanted home. Turns out, you had no home to return to. No one to return to. 

There must be so many others. The pain must be immense throughout the world. Lovers returning to mere memories. Parents returning to kids left behind, now years older and practically strangers. Children returning to homes that were no longer there, lost amongst the new world and without anyone familiar around them to find comfort in. God, they must be so scared.

Matt’s hand returns to your face, the backs of his fingers testing the feel of your forehead before ever so slowly trailing away until they rest where your pulse thrums through the skin of your throat. It’s not necessary—he’d hear it across town. Maybe he’s seeking physical reassurance that you’re really here, right in front of him.

“Talk to me,” he pleads quietly, “say something, anything.”

You find nothing worth speaking. You doubt you’d even have the strength to speak with how dry and heavy your tongue feels in your mouth. His hand moves, fingers hot on your skin as he cups the underside of your jaw and this time, you don’t quite have the strength to pull away.

All you want is this.

His touch, his presence—him.

“Sweetheart, I—” he stops, head tilting ever so slightly towards the door.

You watch him stiffen, tension rolling through his shoulders as he rises from his knelt position before turning towards the door to the apartment expectantly. It takes longer for your senses to catch up, but eventually the dull thud of boots hitting the flooring outside of the apartment hits your ears—

Frank.

Where was he through all of this? Had he been left to carry on with life, trying to make sense of a world left in ruin? Or had he been washed away with the breeze, just like half the planet? Universe? You want to ask Matt, but words seem to fade away on your tongue. 

He doesn’t bother knocking—he never has.

While there had been some stirrings of indifference between him and Matt after everything that happened, there was still a solid foundation of respect, which quickly extended to you the more you attempted to coax the beaten and bloodied man into your clutches for some much needed medical treatment. You were more than acquaintances, a little less than friends—just close enough for him to feel comfortable coming and going from the apartment should he have ever needed patching up.

“Apparently it’s been a while,” Frank mutters gruffly as a somewhat greeting once he’s stepped into the apartment, and you feel the same air of confusion and denial radiating from him.

He had been gone then, like you. How is he handling this? Does he feel as lost as you? As scared? You’d always thought him to be someone not exactly immune to the feeling, but at least stronger than others. As much as you feel for him, hurt for him, knowing exactly the type of thoughts and feelings that plague him, you find comfort in the fact that you weren’t alone in this.

Matt doesn’t respond, and Frank sighs tiredly, eyes flashing briefly to the side under his heavily bruised and swollen brow.

“I ain’t here to fight, Red.”

Matt’s tongue flicks over his lips and he gives a humourless huff, still not relaxing from his defensive stance. Maybe he was expecting Frank to be pissed and burst in like a raging bull with red in his vision, seeing as he and Karen had something brewing slowly between them all those years ago, but Frank doesn’t seem to be interested in any violence whatsoever.

You’re not even entirely sure what he’s here for.

“Well, Karen’s not here—”

“I know, she was with me,” Frank rumbles deeply, head tilting as he appraises Matt, “told me the happy news—congrats.”

It’s not insincere, but it’s damn near close. 

His gaze moves to you.

He studies the way you sit, drawn in on yourself and cuddling your chest in an effort to hold yourself together. You can feel how raw and swollen your eyes are, and when you finally manage to tiredly lift them to meet his, Frank seems to soften.

It’s only slight, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know his mannerisms well, but you see it.

“I was thinkin’ you might need a place, after hearin’ about—” he swallows, jaw rolling ever so slightly. He exhales sharply and shifts on his feet, “You got anywhere to go?” 

He’s here for you?

Matt intervenes immediately. “She’s staying here, Frank—”

Staying here? In the apartment you used to live in? That he now lives in with another woman? Was his idea to leave you sleeping on the couch alone, while they sleep in your bed together? No, it’s not your bed anymore. It’s their bed. Their apartment.

Five years of Daredevil and regular concussions must’ve really killed some of his brain cells. Is he even still Daredevil? Maybe married life changed his perspective on his dangerous nightly habits. Maybe his perspective changed on a lot of things. Is he even the same Matt you had left behind?

Frank’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing into a scowl as they flick back to Matt. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t askin’ you—was I, Red?”

“No,” you finally rasp in reply to his earlier question before Matt could retort, voice rough and weak in your throat, “no, I don’t.”

He nods, expecting your answer. “You got a bag?”

“I don’t know if I have any things left,” you mutter, bitterly wondering where your belongings went. Storage? Donated? The trash? How long did they leave it, did Matt leave it before tossing it all away? Like you’d never even existed, like you’d never even mattered. “Do I have anything here, Matt?”

Matt baulks at the ice coating your tone, and it’s unfair. You know that. Deep down you know you’re being unfair, a part of your mind gently reminding you that you probably would’ve thought and done the same in his position should it have been reversed, but you don’t care.

The familiar bite of anger, pain, still stirs relentlessly in your system and it trumps all reason and logic.

You had a life, and now it’s in complete ruins.

What are you supposed to do with that?

Frank nods sagely, “We’ll get you some things, ain’t gotta worry about that. You comin’?”

As much as you want to reject the idea of leaving, as much as your heart screams at you to stay with Matt because he’s all you know, he’s all you have, and he was telling you how much he loved you only mere hours ago… you give a minimal nod, and shift to stand from the couch.

It wasn’t hours ago—it was five years.

Five years.

Matt instinctively steps in front of you to keep you from moving any further, his tongue darting across his lips in an apparent panic, “You’re going with him?”

“Can you give us a minute? I won’t be long,” you ask Frank quietly, aching at the way Matt’s anxiety seems to heighten at your words.

Frank gives a single nod, and then slips out, the door clicking quietly shut behind him. Matt ignores it, every sense focused in on you and the way your heart beats a broken rhythm in your chest, the way your nails pick at the cotton of your sleeves, the way fresh tears smell building on your lash line—

“I have nowhere else to go,” you mutter, body now numb to feeling and just utterly exhausted from the onslaught of emotions the day had thrust upon you. “I can’t stay here, Matt. I can’t. Seeing you two—God, it’ll kill me. I can’t do it.”

Why you? Why did it have to be you? 

A part of you wishes it would’ve been Karen in your place, uncaringly and unknowingly torn from her life to leave everything she ever loved behind, only to return to a world that had survived, that had moved on without her… and you don’t even have the energy to feel guilty for such a thought yet.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even Matt’s.

“Sweetheart,” Matt pleads softly, hands seeking and taking your hands tightly, “just—just tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

The thought is immediate—would he leave her? Could you ask that of him? Could you expect him to just drop and abandon everything he’s built during your absence?

You want to.

You want to tell him to break it off with her as soon as physically possible, to kick her out so you could be at home where you’re comfortable and with him and just act like nothing happened—

—but you can’t.

You can’t bring yourself to say the words.

What would he think of you asking a question like that? Would he even do it? You know how he feels about divorce, what his religion thinks of divorce. His whole belief system, his life, his God… would he abandon it all for you?

Looking at him now, how he physically pleads with you with those soft, lost eyes looking for guidance, you believe that maybe, just maybe, he would. 

But you can’t ask that of him.

You could never, and would never, ask that of him.

Unless—

“Were you happy?” You ask softly, eyes bouncing between his where they rest just left of your face. 

He blinks, a slight frown forming between his eyes in an effort to make sense of your unexpected words, “What?”

“Before I—” you take a breath, tongue rolling along your lips to moisten the sudden dry skin, “—before I just materialised back onto the street… were you happy? With your life? With her?”

Without me?

Say no.

God, please say no.

You begin to wonder why you asked. Maybe you’re a glutton for punishment, maybe you think nothing could possibly hurt any more than it already does, but when his expression falters, when his mouth opens and nothing seems to make it past his lips, you know that’s not possible.

This… this seems to hit the hardest.

He was happy.

He was happy before you came back.

He was happy without you. 

And it’s… good.

It is.

Of course you don’t want him to be anything but that. He had found what he wanted from life—some normality, some peace, and it’s with that understanding that you realise you have no place here anymore. At least not with him. You have no part in his life now, and it shreds that last little untouched piece of your hopeful heart to absolute ruins.

Denial still pulls at your mind, still blatantly refuses to accept that five years had actually passed. You’d been nothing but a distant memory to him, to your friends, to the world, and yet, everything is still so vividly fresh for you. You only got out of bed, held him, kissed him, a few hours ago—a few fucking hours!

Five years.

“It’s okay,” you mutter, as his saddened eyes flutter in a panic, “I want that for you, Matt. I’ve always wanted that for you, even if that means I’m not—that we’re not—”

You ache at the thought of being apart from him, a feeling he had already experienced and endured. 

“Three years,” he says quietly, brokenly, a slow gathering of tears building along his lash line, “three years I searched, I waited, I prayed… if I had known—if I had known you… I wouldn’t have—”

—moved on. 

You envision Matt lost in the organised pews with dozens of other faceless mourners, on his knees and weeping into his closed hands, begging for the strength to finally let you go. He was granted it, after enduring agony for such a stretch of time, and now it’s all fallen to pieces at your return.

“It’s okay,” you repeat softly, the feeling of your heart beating in your throat choking the words, “it’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head, face creasing as the tears begin to make their way down his cheeks, “no, it’s not. I’ve only just gotten you back. You’re back, and now—now I—God. I can’t say goodbye. Not again. I can’t.”

“So don’t,” you say simply, a fresh build of your own tears streaking your cheeks, “we won’t say goodbye. Just… just forget. Forget I ever came back, Matt. Everything will be as it was.”

He recoils sharply, as if you physically struck him. “I can’t do that—”

“Yes, you can. You have to, we all have to.”

“No, I won’t—”

“You told me to tell you,” you croak weakly, the feel of his coarse stubble piercing the soft skin of your palm as you cradle his cheek, “you told me to tell you what to do, and that you’ll do it. Well, this is it, Matt. This is what I’m telling you to do—forget I ever came back. It’ll be easier for everyone. You can keep what you had—what you have, and I—”

And you?

What will you do?

Where will you go?

Your hand falls from his face, only for it to be snatched up and returned to its previous spot with his own pressed tightly against it to keep it there. His tears smear against your skin, the evidence of his heartbreak an obvious reminder that he never let go completely.

There’s something still held for you within him, it just wasn’t the same as when you left.

His forehead comes to rest against your own, and you weaken into the familiar comfort of his touch, just for a moment. You don’t want to let go, don’t even know if you can. There's nothing left to be said, nothing left to be worked out. This is just it.

Why does it have to be this way? Your stomach churns at the idea of walking out for good. How can you? Nothing has changed for you—everything you feel for him is right there, right there where it’s always been, and you can’t do anything with it.

You indulge in the moment a little longer, stretching out to softly press your lips to his with the bittersweet taste of a loving goodbye—one last time. You savour the feel of him, his lips, so warm, so soft and sweet and familiar—

—and then pull away, the air filling the space between you lingering with the memory of what could have been.

He lets your hand fall away this time, pained haunted eyes scrunching closed as you further the distance between you until you’re at the door to the apartment. The quiet exhale of a sob reaches your ears as you open the door, and you dare not look back at Matt falling apart as you close it softly behind you.

Arguments with bf!bts: Yoongi

a/n: this is me elaborating on the bangtan boys during an argument post. so not all rainbows and sunshine. tags and warnings on each part separately. these are just moments. some have a beginning and an end, some have one of those, and some have neither. i did not want specify the topics of the arguments too much. feedback is greatly appreciated. (see more author's notes below the story)

~

(threats, stalkers, intruders, bts is in danger, yoongi is in a bad mood, distant!yoongi, past injured!yoongi, apologies, happy-ish ending, comfort)

~

You let out a sigh and lower your face into your hands. The time seems to stand still. The silence is broken only by the clock on the wall. It goes tick, tock, counting the time until Yoongi breathes in.

“I know you are upset”, he speaks slowly, his voice low, “and I know why. But, I don’t know what you want me to do.”

You straighten your back, trying to meet his eyes, but he averts your gaze. You sigh again, deep, trying to find the words.

“I just want you to see me”, you finally whisper, “I want my partner to see me, notice me. It may seem selfish to you, but I really wish you were my boyfriend every day, not only on your days off or when you come back from tour.”

Yoongi opens his mouth, as if he is about to say something, but closes it soon after. Still, he does not look at you, but you can see his brows frown.

“I love you, Yoongi-ah”, you continue, sudden tightness in your throat making it hard to speak, “I am so damn deep in love with you, but sometimes, I am not sure if you feel the same.”

Yoongi shifts in his seat, but keeps his gaze lowered.

“I knew what I signed up for when we got together”, you tell him, “I knew you would be away a lot. I knew you would take two-hour naps every day after writing and composing all night. I knew you would not stay home even sick or injured.”

You start to tear up, remembering the time when you got a call from the hospital after Yoongi had ripped the tendons in his knee. You remember how you hurried there to see him, but he refused to let you in until he was discharged. You remember, how, every day for a month, he refused to ask you for help and would fall over with his crutches, drop plates on the floor and stay up nights after nights because of the pain.

“I know you love your job, and I get it", you explain, keeping your voice steady, "but I did not expect you to love it more than me.”

Now, Yoongi nails his eyes at you.

“How dare you?” he asks. He speaks through his teeth, but in his eyes, you can see that he is hurt by your words.

“How dare you”, Yoongi speaks again, “even hint towards questioning my love for you, let alone say it to my face like that?”

“I am sorry I offended you”, you say, gaining a little confidence in your voice after getting a reaction out of him and not just speaking to a brick wall. “But this is how I feel. I feel like, nowadays, I am on the second place for you, an afterthought.” You search for the next words but pause after seeing Yoongi’s face drop.

Yoongi steps to you, dropping down on one knee on the floor and taking your hand in his.

“I thought I was protecting you by keeping this to myself”, Yoongi says, and you move to sit on the floor as well.

“I thought you did not have to know, that I could handle it. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

Your head is spinning, trying to get hold of what he is saying. His expression is softer now, and he is rubbing your palm with his thumbs.

“What?” is all you can get out. Yoongi sighs, deeply, and in your mind, you go through a million scenarios of what this sudden mood change could be about.

“It is work”, Yoongi says, and you feel the worry raise its head inside you again.

“But it’s not what you think.”

What then? you want to scream, grab his shoulders and shake him, but his thumbs keep rubbing the soothing circles against your sweating skin.

“After the comeback”, Yoongi begins, his voice only above a whisper, “things got… weird. We started to have cars outside the label, and the studios. They were there when we arrived and when we left. I heard they were taking pictures of us, even following us on our way home.”

Yoongi looks up at you, as if he is making sure you are not getting too upset by what he is saying.

“We thought it was just paparazzi, or fans that had gone a bit too far. But then, we started getting threats.”

You cannot stop your jaw from dropping and your hands from squeezing Yoongi’s a little harder. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Letters, calls”, he explains, “banners outside venues. One day, a group of people got in the building. Fortunately, they were stopped and arrested before they made it past the lobby. But, we were adviced to stay alert.”

You are not sure if you heard him right. Your ears are ringing, your breath getting fast and shallow.

“Is that why-“, you begin with a shaky voice, but Yoongi stops you.

“That is why I have spent nights elsewhere”, he admits, tilting your chin so that you are facing him. “That is why I have been in a bad mood, stressed out and short-tempered. I know it is not an excuse, but I have been worried sick over you. The last thing I wanted to do is lead the stalkers to our home.”

You wipe your face with your sleeve to stop the tears that you did not notice escaping your eyes. Yoongi pulls your hands to bring you closer to him, and wraps his arms around you.

“I am sorry for keeping this from you, but I thought I was doing the right thing”, he says, running his hands up and down your back, “I did not want you to worry, but I did not see how much my behavior was upsetting you.”

“I wish you had told me”, you speak against the fabric of his shirt.

“Me too”, he says, “now that I rethink about it.”

“Is it-“, you begin, not sure how to place your words, “I mean, are the threats still coming?”

“I am afraid so”, Yoongi replies, his voice blank all of a sudden, “I guess the intruders were not the only ones involved. But everyone is working day and night trying to figure out who they are.”

You nod, trying to stop your mind from creating horrible scenes about the stalkers, wondering what if…

“But”, Yoongi’s voice stops your train of thought, “I still have to keep my eyes open.” You nod, expecting him to continue.

“I am sorry but I cannot answer your calls when I am at work. And, sometimes, I may have to stay there overnight so that they cannot follow me home. To you.” He whispers the last two words but you hear it anyway, feeling a warm touch of relief in your chest. What Yoongi has just told you, is scary, unreal, but you decide to hold on to the fact that the distance you have been sensing, the chill you sometimes felt between you, is not about you or your relationship.

“Try not to worry too much, dear”, Yoongi says, letting go of you to meet your eyes, “and, never ever doubt my feelings for you.”

You nod, embarrassment creeping up your spine. Yoongi cups your face with his hands, replacing the feeling with warmth and safety.

“I love you so much”, Yoongi says, sealing his words with a gentle kiss, “and I hate being away from you." Another kiss. "But if that is what it takes to keep you safe, it is all worth it.”

~

a/n: why am i kinda nervous to post this?? i was thinking about saving this one for last bc gahhh i personally love this and yoongi so much. but, i want to go by the age order so here it is. lmk what you think xoxo

Coffee Stain | jjk

☆summary: you grief, and it's the expression of your everlasting love for Jungkook.

☆pairings: Jungkook x reader

☆rating: 18+ (it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief!au, angst

☆warnings: this is a grief!au so it's rough. jungkook died and reader tries to grieve him. lucid dream where she sees him and talks to him again, curses, a lot of crying

☆word count: 1.9k

☆a/n: this hurts. idk why i wrote it. i was sad watching a sad instagram reel and then this happened. i apologize, and i love y'all, and if you need to talk just reach out <3 i'm always here for you guys.

☆☆☆☆☆

            There’s been a coffee stain on the kitchen counter for weeks.

Staring at it, you can almost hear the laughter it brought forth then. A laughter of crinkling doe eyes, of a bunny grin and arms wrapping around your middle. It’s a hand clutching around your heart, like it used to clutch around your fingers.

It’s the ghost of bodies entwined that weren’t meant to be separated.

In the bathroom, his towel has started to smell like humidity instead of the body wash he used, the one he claimed was good for his hair too. A 3-in-1 combo thing, something you used to tease him constantly about. And though the smell is a sign that you need to clean the towel, you can’t bring yourself to do the laundry.

In fact, you can’t bring yourself to do any chores. You just let Bam out three times a day, and then you go back to bed. Back to a cold bed that was supposed to be an island of you and him.

Now it’s an island of your grief, of tear-stained pillows and sorrow-filled sheets.

The sun rises and sets every day, but time has stopped. Time stopped on a surprised rainy day when he didn’t come home.

And he’ll never come home again.

It burns. It burns like the pizza you put in the oven, thinking that maybe you’d eat for the first time in weeks. The smoke pricks your eyes, suffocates your lungs. You hope it’ll steal your breath like his breath was stolen, too.

A last exhale, one you weren’t there to share.

You open the windows to air the room, and late spring flows in. Chirping birds and a soft breeze surround you, and you feel sick to your stomach. Because he won’t experience any other season. His life ended on a rainy April day, forever altering yours in the process.

Bam watches you from where he’s lying down by the door, still waiting for him to come home. Indeed, he’d used to come home around this time every day, to whisk you in his arms and tell you he loves you. But not that day.

No, that day, you sat on the couch watching the raindrops chasing themselves on the window, your phone clutched in your hand because he’d been supposed to be home an hour ago. When the phone rang bringing the news, your life became quiet.

It’s been quiet since then.

Your friends come over in the evening, with food you try to eat. You remember evenings that you’d spend with them and him, laughing and playing games and doing everything that young people do.

Young people aren’t supposed to die. Or so you tell yourself as you follow the conversation, but never participate, like maybe he left with your voice too. Your friends don’t complain about it – they know how much he meant to you, how much you meant to him, too.

You wonder what he’d say if he were here tonight, and you think you wouldn’t be able to hear it. Not when you haven’t been able to listen to his last voice message again, even though it sits on your phone, a keepsake of your love gone too soon.

When your friends leave, they hug you tight, though it’s never as tight as he used to hold you. Because he was the only one to know how to hold your pieces together and tonight, like every night since then, they fall apart. They fall apart like dandelions in the wind, so easily blown away.

You go to bed, Bam with you, staring up at the ceiling, imagining that it is his body next to yours. That it is his soft snores you can hear, his gentle breaths dragging you to sleep hours after you lied down.

You wake up feeling different. The light shines differently, like it’s from another world. The apartment smells of bacon and coffee, and you furrow your brows. The bed is empty, yet warmth lingers in the sheets next to you.

You step out of bed, tiptoe on a floor that you know to be usually cold in the morning, yet today it’s warm. You’re wearing an oversized white t-shirt he usually wears, and you feel like you’re forgetting something, yet you can’t quite tell what.

You walk out of the bedroom, and Bam greets you like he always does in the morning after his walk, with his tag wagging so wildly it’s making his whole body shake from side to side. You laugh, petting him as he tries to jump on you so that he can lick your face, though he eventually abandons to trot to the kitchen instead.

You follow behind him, smiling at the sight of his naked back, as he cooks something on the stove.

“You woke up just in time,” he tells you, shooting you a quick glance over his shoulder.

His eyes are sad. A sorrow deeper than the ocean hides in his pupils, and you’d frown if you hadn’t missed him so much.

“What are you making?” you ask.

He motions to a bowl on the counter. “Pancakes. And bacon and coffee, too.” He glances at you again, like maybe you disappeared while he was looking at the pan on the stove. “You can pour yourself a cup of coffee while I get everything ready.”

You nod, smiling softly, before doing so, grabbing your favourite mug from the cupboard. You frown – wasn’t there supposed to be a chip in it? Yet the mug looks pristine, entirely new. You shrug it off, and then you pour the coffee, before pouring one for him too. You set them on the table and sit in your usual spot, looking out the window.

The sky outside is purple and bright, and you think you can see constellations dusting it.

You know. You’ve known since you woke up, but you don’t care.

You watch him as he finishes cooking, and then he carries the food over to the table. He sits next to you, in his favourite spot because he gets to see you and the TV at the same time. The TV is not on right now, and his attention is solely on you, like he’s drinking you in like you’ve been drinking him in.

“How did you sleep?” he asks.

His eyes are infinitely sad. It’s startling, and you can’t bear the weight they hold. So you focus on your food, while he sits there watching you.

“I slept okay,” you reply. “You?”

He chuckles. “I slept too much.” He sighs, and it’s heavier than the universe. “I’m always sleeping lately.”

You laugh, because what else are you supposed to do?

“You’re awake now,” you tease, and you pat his arm.

His skin is soft and warm, void of any scars.

“Only because you’re here,” he replies, and he smiles again as you meet his doe eyes. “Now eat.”

You obey, enjoying the taste of his food – he’s always made the best pancakes, and today is no different. You even think they’re better, though you reckon that would be impossible.

“You should make pancakes more often,” you say when you’re done eating. “I can’t remember the last time you made them.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners, yet the depths remain eternally sorrowful. “I’ll make them again soon.”

You smile, pausing to admire him for a few seconds before you ask, “Should we go back to bed?”

“We’re not Sunday,” he teases.

You narrow your eyes. “It can be Sunday just this once.”

His giggles accompany you as he grabs your hand and pulls you to the bedroom, and soon you’re in bed again, laughing as he tickles you.

“Fuck, I missed your laugh,” he says, and you pout.

“I missed you,” you answer.

He nods, and the sadness invades all his features. “I know.” Bam appears, jumping on the bed to lie next to you while Jungkook kneels between your legs, hands still resting on your sides. “You’ve been taking good care of Bam?”

“Yes,” you say. “We’ve been taking a lot of walks.”

He grins like the sadness was never there, and then he turns towards the dog. “Aren’t you lucky?”

Bam rolls on his back as Jungkook starts petting him, and soon he’s rubbing the dog’s belly, cooing like he’s talking to a baby. It’s adorable, and you admire the view even though it hurts so deeply you think you might be dying.

When he’s done with the dog, he looks at you again, a soft smile gracing his lips. “What have you been up to?”

You sigh, and you pull on his arm until he’s lying with his head on your chest. “Nothing.”

“That sounds boring,” he teases, and you think you feel his tears wetting the shirt you’re wearing, though you don’t mention it.

“Hey, I’m just doing my best,” you reply, pinching his side.

He laughs. “I know.”

“How long until you have to go?” you ask.

He sighs, and he glances at the time on the night table. “Not long.”

You rub a hand on his back, your arms tightening around him. He looks up at you, and you meet his gaze, hoping to find an eternity in them.

“I wish you could stay,” you whisper.

“Me too.”

He kisses you then, his feather soft lips meeting yours for a short embrace of the love you share. Your heart settles in your chest, your ache momentarily forgotten, and you wish to get lost in him. Wish to stay here with him forever, but he inevitably pulls away from the kiss, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s time to go,” he says.

You nod, because you know. You feel it too, and so you force yourself to get up. He quickly puts a shirt on, and then you follow him to the door.

“Text me when you get to work?” you tell him, eyes filled with tears.

“I will.” He meets your gaze, his own eyes lined with silver. “Please be safe.”

You chuckle. “You be safe.”

“Always,” he says. He opens the door, looking outside, but he doesn’t move for a while.

“Should we hang out again soon?” you ask, hoping that it’ll make him stay.

He looks back at you. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

You nod, and he takes a step outside. He’s fading out of focus, yet you try to hold onto it, to keep him here with you. It’s like it works – he turns back around, and then rushes to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he hides his face in your neck. But you’re losing him again – already, the apartment has faded away, and all that’s left is the purple sky with its infinity of stars.

“I love you,” you whisper as he, too, fades away.

In the vast expanse of nothing, you think you hear him saying it back. You reach for him, and you think you can see him again, see his smile, though he’s just a little too far for you to touch.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home.”

You wake, the bleak light from the sun filtering through the blinds, and the sky proves to be the blue of sorrow again. Grief, the expression of your everlasting love, sits on your chest, and you can’t breathe.

“I love you,” you whisper through the pain, and you mean it, more than you’ve ever meant anything before.

After all, there’s been a coffee stain on the kitchen counter for weeks.

☆☆☆☆☆

if you need to talk please reach out, and also don't hesitate to scream at me for this bc idk wtf it is

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate