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25

[minyoongiss]

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[minyoongiss]

500 followers? i literally have no words. sometimes it still feels like i'm writing only for myself. but no there are 500 people. 500???

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(this definitely calls for a 500 follower special hihi.)

[itsvminkook]

PARK JIMIN BTS - Normal (Explicit ver.), 2026

for @jung-koook ♡

[minyoongiss]

for a reason he’s my bias wrecker😛

[minyoongiss]

MIDNIGHT LOVE | jeon jungkook

“i can’t be your midnight love.”

pairing: nonidol!jeon jungkook x you/reader

warnings: angst, heartbreak

authors note: i’m backkk.. it took me some time (uni was stressing the sh*t out of me) but here we are. this time something new, something angsty. inspiration for this was midnight love by girl in red.

word count: 9.4k

you up? the words glowed on your phone screen, small and harmless to anyone else, but to you they landed with the weight of a thousand memories you had tried so hard to bury. the phone sat face-up on the table across the room, and you didn't even have to pick it up to know who it was from. you didn't need to open it, didn't need to see the name spelled out in sharp, familiar letters, because the moment your eyes caught those two words, something deep inside you shifted. it was the way your heart seemed to skip, not in the romantic way it used to when his messages came, but in that exhausted, tight-chested way that came after too many late nights, too many apologies that never meant anything, too many almosts that always ended the same.

you stayed where you were, not reaching for the phone, though your gaze didn't stray from it either. the light from the screen cast a faint glow against the surface of the table, like it was trying to draw you in, the way he always did – never with much effort, just with the right combination of familiarity and timing. you thought about how many times before you had seen that exact same message, at that exact same hour, and how often you had given in, answering when you swore you wouldn't, letting him back in because a part of you wanted to believe this time would be different. and maybe, deep down, a small part of you still wanted to. maybe you still wanted to hear his voice, even if it was just for a few minutes. maybe you wanted proof that he still thought of you when the night got too quiet.

but you didn't move. you told yourself that this was different now, that you weren't going to let two simple words drag you back into something that had already taken too much from you. so you sat in the stillness, the air heavy with all the things you weren't saying, watching the screen slowly dim until it went dark again. and yet, even in the silence, the message stayed there in your mind, pulsing like a heartbeat you couldn't quite ignore.

you knew exactly why he wrote to you, and it was always around this time, almost like it was programmed into him, like there was some internal alarm that went off in his head the moment the night became too quiet, the moment the music faded or the laughter of whoever he was with started to bore him. it was always at the hour when the shadows in his apartment stretched too far and his bed felt too big, when the comfort of whatever face he had been staring at all evening lost its novelty and he remembered, suddenly, inconveniently, that you were still somewhere out there. you existed. not in the way you once ached to exist for him, not as a thought that pulled at his chest, not as someone whose absence kept him awake, but as a certainty. a fixed point. a door he knew would always open when he knocked.

you had been that door for too long. you were the one he reached for when no one else picked up, the one he knew would reply, the one who had spent too many nights proving that you would rather be his second choice than nothing at all. he didn't even have to try anymore. the two of you had fallen into this ugly rhythm where you could almost predict it: the late-night message, the casual three words as though they carried no weight, the kind of invitation that wasn't really an invitation but a reminder that he could still have you if he wanted.

and god, how you always gave in. no matter how many nights you had spent convincing yourself you were done, no matter how many promises you had whispered into your pillow in the dark, i won't answer, i won't go, i won't let him do this to me again, it was never enough. all it took was the faint vibration of your phone against the wooden table, the soft glow of his name breaking through the dark, and suddenly your resolve was gone. maybe this time would be different, you would tell yourself. maybe this time he was thinking about you for real, not just because he was bored or lonely or needed to feel wanted for a few hours.

but you knew better. you knew that when you went to him, he wouldn't ask how you were, he wouldn't mention the days or weeks he had disappeared. he would just pull you in like he had the right, like the space between you was only ever meant to be temporary. and you would let him. because a part of you, no matter how much it hurt to admit, still burned for the version of him you had made up in your head, the one who also cared about you, the one who stayed, the one who didn't only remember you when it was convenient.

and every time, as you lay there next to him in the dark, you could feel that other truth, the one you tried to ignore: he would forget you again by morning. and you would let him.

maybe it was your fault. maybe from the very first moment, you had opened the door for everything that followed, even if you didn't mean to. you could still remember it vividly, like some scene you had replayed too many times in your head. it was at a party hosted by your mutual friend namjoon, you one of those nights where the music was too loud for conversation but not loud enough to drown out the sound of people's laughter. the air was heavy with the smell of cheap liquor and the faint perfume of strangers brushing past. you had been standing near the kitchen, sipping from a cup you didn't really like the taste of, when your eyes landed on him across the room. he was leaning casually against the wall, head tipped slightly as someone spoke to him, his smile slow and deliberate like he had all the time in the world. the piercings caught the dim light every time he moved, the tattoos disappearing under the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves like secrets you wanted to uncover. he looked effortlessly handsome, dangerously so, and even in that crowded room, he somehow seemed to draw your attention without even trying.

you told yourself you were just looking, just appreciating, but your friend noticed. she always noticed. she caught the way your gaze kept returning to him, the way your grip on your cup loosened every time he laughed. without giving you the chance to protest, she grabbed your arm and started pulling you toward him, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determination that told you she wasn't going to stop. before you could come up with an excuse, she was introducing you to each other, her smile smug like she already knew how the night would end. you smiled back at him, and something in the way he looked at you made your stomach tighten, like he was already aware of the effect he had on you.

the hours that followed blurred together. at some point, you ended up alone with him, sitting on the edge of a couch in the quietest corner of the apartment, the muffled thump of bass from the other room fading into background noise. he leaned in slightly, his voice low as if what he was about to say needed to be handled with care. this isn't something serious, he told you. i just got out of a relationship, and i can't start anything new. you remember how you laughed, a short, almost careless sound, and told him that you weren't looking for anything serious either. it was easy to say then, easier still to believe in that moment. the truth was, you weren't thinking about the future. you were thinking about the way his eyes held yours and how close his hand was to your knee.

but almost two years later, after countless nights where you answered his messages no matter the hour, after mornings where you left before the sun was fully up so you wouldn't have to face the strange in-between of what you were, you understood how much of a lie that had been. not necessarily in the beginning, maybe at first you had really believed you could keep it light, that you could protect yourself from wanting more, but somewhere along the way, it had shifted. you had started hoping for texts that didn't just come when he was bored or lonely. you had started imagining what it might feel like if he introduced you to people as someone important, someone he chose.

instead, it became a cycle. he would disappear for weeks, sometimes longer, and just when you started to think maybe you had broken free, your phone would light up again with his name. and every time, you answered, telling yourself it didn't mean anything, telling yourself you were fine with what this was. but it did mean something. it always did. and deep down, even back on that very first night, a part of you had known that this was how it would end, with you giving everything you had, and him taking it like it was nothing more than a casual arrangement.

every time you replayed the story in your head, you found a way to hand the blame to yourself, as if somehow carrying it would make the weight of everything easier to bear. there was a strange sort of comfort in thinking you were the one who had stepped over the line, because it meant you could control it, rewrite it in your mind, convince yourself that you were the one who ruined it rather than face the truth that maybe he was the one who had blurred the boundaries from the very beginning. you told yourself you should have known better, that you should have kept your heart locked behind the wall you had built so carefully over the years, that you should have taken his words that very first night and etched them deep into your bones until they were impossible to forget. but somewhere in the space between that first lie you told yourself and the quiet, stolen nights that followed, your heart had begun to betray you in ways you could not stop.

at first, you didn't notice it happening. it was subtle, almost unremarkable, the way feelings tend to creep in when you're not paying attention. maybe it was the way he always smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and something warmer, a scent you could never quite name but that you began to crave. maybe it was the quiet way he listened to you when you spoke about things no one else seemed to care about, or the rare moments when he laughed, really laughed, and the sound filled you with a kind of brightness you couldn't find anywhere else. you told yourself it was just attraction, just the excitement of something undefined, something that could never last. but then, without you even realizing, you were memorizing the exact sound of his footsteps climbing your stairs, the way his hand would always hesitate before it found yours, the small crease between his brows when he was lost in thought. without meaning to, you began collecting pieces of him, building a version in your head that belonged only to you, one that felt real enough to hold even though you knew you couldn't.

the truth was, you never really belonged to him, not in the way you wanted to. you were not the person he planned around or the name he kept close during the day. you were the late-night choice when the rest of the world had fallen silent. when he desperately needed some love, and couldn't find it somewhere else you were always the last one that he would call. the message he sent when boredom or loneliness pushed its way into his chest. the person he let into the soft, hidden hours of his life but kept out of the daylight. you waited for the mornings when he'd still be there, waited for the moments when his presence would linger past the dark, but those mornings never came. instead, you learned the pattern of his absences, the long stretches of time when your phone would stay still and quiet, the way his attention seemed to slip from your fingers the moment you began to believe you had it. you became familiar with the ache of waiting, with the constant push and pull of being wanted in one breath and forgotten in the next.

and still, you stayed. you stayed because some foolish, stubborn part of you believed that if you gave enough, if you waited long enough, if you were patient and understanding and never demanded too much, then maybe one day he would look at you and see the same thing you saw in him. maybe he would wake up and realize that the girl who always answered his midnight calls could also be the girl he called in the middle of the afternoon just because she crossed his mind. maybe he would see that you could be more than a secret kept in the quiet, that you could be something solid, something lasting. but he never did. and the worst part, the part that made your stomach twist and your chest ache, was that even after all this time, even after all the ways he had shown you exactly where you stood, you still found yourself hoping.

and even if it did not completely shatter your heart when you knew that he was not looking for anything serious, it still carved something into you that no one else could see but you could always feel. it was a quiet, constant sting, the kind that only grows sharper when you pretend it is not there. and you pretended often, you told yourself you were fine, that you understood what this was, that you could keep it casual and detached just like he wanted. but deep down you knew the truth, and that truth became harder to ignore each time you saw him living a life that seemed to exclude you completely. scrolling through his instagram stories became a habit you hated yourself for, your thumb moving before your mind could tell it to stop. each clip was another reminder: him at a bar with friends, him laughing into the camera, him with his arm around someone you did not know, the glow of the city lights catching in his hair. he was always moving, always surrounded by people, always so alive, and never with you.

you could still remember one night as clearly as if the air itself had frozen around you just to keep the memory intact. it had been another party, one thrown by a mutual friend, maybe jin or jimin. you had come with every intention of enjoying yourself, of not thinking about him, of maybe even proving to yourself that you could exist in the same room as him without it breaking you. but all that resolve melted away the moment you saw him. he was across the room, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the floor, the colored lights flickering over his face. and he was dancing, not alone, but with a woman you had never seen before. she had her hands on his shoulders, his palms rested comfortably at her waist, and they moved together in a way that made it look like they had been doing it for years. his head tilted down toward her, his smile wide and unguarded, his eyes crinkling the way they only did when he was genuinely having a good time.

you tried to tell yourself it meant nothing. that he was free to do whatever he wanted. that this was exactly the life he told you he was living. but something about the ease of it, the way he seemed so at home in her presence, dug at you in a way you could not quite explain. you found yourself standing by the wall, a drink in your hand that you had long forgotten to sip, watching them like you were outside your own body.

and then came the moment that burned itself into you. later in the night, you saw him again, this time by the door. he had his jacket on, the same woman beside him, her hair falling into her face as she laughed at something he said. he reached out to hold the door for her, and just before stepping out, he glanced over his shoulder. his eyes met yours. for a second, the whole room seemed to fall away, and all you could feel was the weight of that look. it was not guilt, it was not even apology. it was something else, something more complicated, like he was silently acknowledging that you had seen everything you were never meant to see, and maybe part of him wanted you to see it. then he turned away, guiding her out into the night, leaving you in the doorway with the noise of the party behind you and a silence inside your chest that felt louder than anything around you.

that night, you went home and lay awake in bed, replaying it over and over, as if your mind could somehow change the ending if you thought about it long enough. but the ending was always the same, he left, and you stayed. waiting. hoping.

and when you think of it now, even if you tried ignoring him, there was never really a way to fully erase him from your life. not when you had so many mutual friends, each one unknowingly pulling him back into your orbit in small, painful ways. it was impossible to avoid him when namjoon had been your classmate in university, when jimin was the friend you had grown up with since you were kids, when you already knew most of the others long before he ever stepped into your life. they were part of your world before he was and now they were the invisible threads tying you both together, no matter how hard you tried to cut yourself free.

every gathering, every birthday, every dinner out with the group came with the quiet gamble of whether he would be there. sometimes he was, sometimes he wasn't, but the uncertainty always weighed on you like an unspoken warning. you could tell yourself you were fine, that you could handle it, but the moment you saw him in the same room, it was like every step forward you had taken came crumbling back down. and the worst part was, he seemed so unaffected. like he could exist in that shared space without feeling the slightest pull, without remembering the moments you could never forget.

god, how you wished you had never met him. wished you had left the party early that night, or turned away when your friend started walking toward him, or kept your smile polite and distant instead of letting it grow into something warmer. because that smile was the first mistake. it opened the door to everything that came after, the nights waiting for his messages, the mornings wondering if you had imagined the connection, the endless cycle of being close enough to touch but never close enough to keep.

and maybe, in another life, you could have kept your distance. but in this one, you were bound to him through a web of friendships and history you could never untangle. ignoring him wasn't as simple as deleting his number or muting his stories, it meant silencing entire parts of your life, cutting away people who had been there for years, and you couldn't do that. so you lived in this strange, in-between place, where he was both everywhere and nowhere, haunting the corners of your days without ever really being in them.

your phone started vibrating, pulling you out of your thoughts, each sharp buzz sliding across the wooden surface of the table until it felt like the sound was echoing inside your chest. you didn't even have to glance at the screen to know whose name was lighting it up. you could have the device turned facedown, powered off, buried at the bottom of a drawer, and you would still know it was him. because it was always him at this time of night, always him when the rest of the world went quiet and he remembered you existed. the first message was short, almost harmless, almost like a casual check-in from someone who cared. y/n? then the second one followed, more familiar, more knowing, the kind of message that cut through you because it carried the weight of all the nights he had known you this well. i know you're awake. and then the next one, more urgent, threaded with that mix of frustration and insistence he always used when he wanted you to cave. why are you ignoring my messages? it was the same script every time, a well-worn loop that you had lived through too many times before.

you sat there, staring at the faint glow of the screen as the words appeared one after the other, your fingers curled tightly into your palm until your nails dug in. you knew exactly what would happen if you answered. just one reply, one single crack in the wall you had built around yourself, and you would be right back where you had been a hundred times before. it would start with something small, something that made you think maybe this time it was different, maybe this time he wanted more than just your company in the middle of the night. but it never was. you would end up tangled in the same routine, waiting for him to decide you were worth seeing in the daylight, only to realize that you were still the second choice. you always were.

and it wasn't just tonight pressing down on you, it was the weight of two years of this endless, exhausting circle. two years of him drifting in and out of your life like the tide, two years of you giving and giving until you didn't even know what you had left for yourself. you thought about all the times you had stayed awake, heart pounding, wondering if he would show up, wondering if this would finally be the night he told you you were more than just something to pass the time. and even though you told yourself over and over that you knew better now, you still couldn't stop that tiny flicker of hope from sparking whenever his name appeared on your phone.

and then your phone started ringing, shattering the stillness of the room like a stone thrown into glass. the sound was sharp and urgent, almost demanding, and before you could even think about ignoring it, the screen lit up, spilling his name into the darkness. jungkook. eight letters, simple and harmless on their own, but together they carried the weight of everything you had been trying to forget. it was absurd, really, how a name could still do that to you, how it could make your chest tighten and your pulse quicken as if the months of silence and restraint hadn't happened at all. of course it was him. who else would it be at this hour, after the string of unanswered messages? it was as if you could see the pattern unfolding in front of you, the way he always reached out when it suited him, when the silence became too loud on his end, when he remembered – momentarily – that you existed.

you stared at the glowing screen for a few seconds longer than you meant to, watching the little photo of him next to his name, the same one you had never changed even after everything. your mind wanted to tell you to flip the phone over, to end this before you even considered answering, but your heart, traitorous as always, hesitated. because you knew his voice, and you knew what it could do to you. how it could soften you, weaken every boundary you had tried to build, make you forget every single reason you had to stay away.

finally, with a sharp inhale, you turned the phone over, the glow disappearing, leaving the room in its dim, fragile quiet again. you thought maybe that would be the end of it, that he would give up once he saw you weren't going to answer. but the ringing started again. and again. the vibration rattled against the table, an unrelenting rhythm that seemed to pulse right through you. it felt like he was on the other side, chipping away at the fragile wall you had spent weeks building, refusing to let you have this one night without him pressing his way in.

you pressed your palms into your thighs, grounding yourself, refusing to move, refusing to touch the phone again. but each time it stopped, you barely had time to take a breath before it started again. it was almost cruel, the way he was doing this, the way he refused to let you go even though he had already let you down so many times. maybe he thought if he pushed hard enough, you would give in like you always had. maybe he knew you better than you wanted him to.

them you took your phone in your hand. your thumb hovered over the screen when it lit up for the fourth time, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit decline, sending it to voicemail. the sudden silence felt too big, like it was pressing in on you from every corner of the room. you wondered if he would actually leave a message, if you would hear that voice again tonight in the form of a recording you wouldn't be able to resist playing. maybe he would try to sound soft and careful, maybe he would pretend there was something urgent, maybe he would say your name in that way that still made your chest ache.

but shutting off your phone didn't shut him out of your head. if anything, it only made him more present. he was still there, in the quiet, in the spaces your thoughts wandered when you weren't careful. you could still see the way his name had lit up your screen, still hear the imagined sound of his voice saying your name, soft and familiar, like he had every right to. you told yourself you were stronger than this, that this was exactly why you had ended things, exactly why you had put distance between you. but the truth was, the moment you saw his name, a small part of you had wanted to answer, had wanted to hear what he would say.

you leaned back into the chair, sinking into its back as though it might hold you together when your resolve started to slip. you tried to focus on the reasons you had left him behind, replaying them like a loop you needed to memorize. the nights you stayed up waiting for him to text back. the times he forgot plans you had made. the way he only seemed to remember you when there was no one else around. it had been a cycle you couldn't break for so long, a cycle that left you feeling smaller each time you gave in. and now, after all the progress you had made, you refused to fall back into it.

still, in the spaces between those thoughts, there was the ache of curiosity, the what if that had always been your undoing. what if he was calling to say something different this time. what if he meant it. what if, just once, he was calling because he missed you the way you missed him. you hated yourself for even letting the thought take root, because you knew how it would end, with you back where you started, staring at your phone in the middle of the night, wondering why you let him in again. so you forced yourself to stay in the quiet, letting it press in around you until it stopped feeling like loneliness and started feeling like protection.

you woke to the sound of the doorbell, sharp and insistent, cutting through the still, heavy air of your apartment like it owned the right to wake you. at first you didn’t move, lying in the dark, eyes half-closed, still tangled in the haze of dreams. you told yourself it would stop if you just stayed still long enough. but it didn’t. it rang again, longer this time, dragging you out of bed like an unwelcome hand pulling you up from underwater. the cold air hit your skin instantly, the contrast to the warmth of your sheets making you shiver as you stumbled toward the door. your feet were bare against the floor, the silence of the apartment amplifying the sound of each step until it felt deafening. you rubbed at your eyes, leaning forward to peer through the peephole.

the second you saw him, your stomach dropped. jungkook. standing there with his hood pulled low, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shifting his weight like he’d been waiting far too long. his jaw was set, his eyes restless even from behind the glass. you stepped back instantly, your pulse climbing before your brain had time to process it. no. not tonight. not again. without a word, you turned and walked away, heading back to your bedroom as if you could will him out of existence by not acknowledging him.

but his voice came before you made it halfway down the hall. “i know you’re there. open the door.”

you didn’t even turn around. “go home, jungkook. i have work in the morning.”

“then open the door and tell me to my face.”

“no.” the word was flat, final. you kept walking. but then you heard it, the quiet, deliberate beeps of your door code being entered. you froze for half a second, then bolted back, pressing yourself against the door, your weight and hands braced against it like that could stop him. “don’t you dare.”

the lock clicked anyway. the handle turned. he pushed, and your body gave way. the door swung open, and the cold from the hallway rushed in around him. he stepped inside like it was still his place, like months of distance and unanswered messages meant nothing.

“what the hell are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharp and loud in the quiet.

his eyes locked on yours, unflinching. “why didn’t you answer me?”

you blinked, stunned by the bluntness of it. “why should i?”

“because i needed to talk to you.”

“needed?” you laughed once, a short, bitter sound. “you disappear for days, sometimes weeks, and then you show up in the middle of the night like i’m supposed to drop everything just because you decided now was convenient for you.”

“that’s not what this is,” he said, his tone clipped.

“then what is it?” you took a step closer, your words spilling faster now, your chest tightening. “because from where i’m standing, it’s exactly what it’s always been. you come here when it suits you. you take what you want. my time, my energy, my body and when i start to believe that maybe, maybe, it means something, you vanish. no explanation. no warning. just gone.”

his jaw flexed. “i told you from the beginning i couldn’t give you more. you know it.”

“and yet you keep coming back,” you shot back, voice shaking but louder now. “you keep touching me like i’m not just another girl to you. you look at me like i’m something you don’t want to lose. but when it matters? when i ask you to actually choose me? you make me feel like i’m asking for too much.”

“you made this into something it was never supposed to be.” his voice was calmer now, but it wasn’t kindness, it was detachment, and that hurt worse.

“because i fell for you,” you said, the words almost breaking as they left your mouth. “because i wanted to believe i was more than just a body in your bed. but i’m not. i’m just the one you go to when there’s no one else around. i’m your second choice. i’m your backup plan. i’m the safe option you can leave and come back to whenever you feel like it.”

he let out a slow breath, as if your words were nothing but background noise. “i don’t love you. i can’t love you. and i don’t want what you want.”

the sting of it made your throat tighten, but you kept your voice steady. “then why are you here?”

“because i like being with you. because you’re easy to be around. because you’re familiar.”

the air between you went sharp. “easy. familiar. god, do you hear yourself?” your voice rose, the words coming out almost too fast to keep up with your thoughts. “i’ve been here for you when you needed someone to talk. i’ve listened to you for hours about things you never tell anyone else. i’ve given you everything i could, and all i am to you is easy?”

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he said, stepping toward you.

“harder for who?” you demanded. “for you? do you even realize what it’s like for me to go to parties and see you with someone else? to see you smiling like you’ve already moved on while i’m still here, pretending i’m fine? to scroll past your stories without opening them because i know it’ll be another reminder that i’m not the one you want? you keep taking and taking, and when i finally ask for something in return, i’m the problem.”

his tone sharpened. “because you are. i told you i couldn’t be what you wanted. you stayed anyway.”

“yeah,” you said, the word heavy in your mouth. “i stayed. because i thought maybe i could be enough for you. i thought maybe one day you’d realize i was worth choosing. but you never did. and you never will.”

he scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “you’re twisting everything. i’ve been honest with you from day one. i said i didn’t want anything serious. i never lied to you. you chose to ignore that.”

“i ignored it because you kept acting like you wanted more!” your voice cracked, frustration spilling over. “you can’t tell someone you don’t want a relationship and then do everything a boyfriend would do. you can’t kiss me like that and then expect me to believe it’s meaningless.”

his jaw tightened, his voice low but sharp. “you think a kiss means i’m in love with you? you think spending time together means i owe you something more? we had fun, that’s it. you’re the one who started building castles in your head.”

you laughed, bitter and humorless. “fun? is that what it was to you? because to me, it was sitting next to you at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. it was listening to you talk about your parents, your fears, the things you don’t tell anyone else. it was the way you held me when you thought i was asleep. but yeah, sure just fun.”

“don’t put this on me,” he snapped, stepping closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “you stayed. you let it go on. you knew what this was.”

“and you knew i was falling for you,” you shot back immediately. “you knew, and you let it happen, because it was easier for you to have someone who cared about you without you having to give anything back.”

his eyes narrowed, his voice almost cold now. “i didn’t ask you to love me.”

“no,” you said, your voice trembling but your gaze locked on his, “but you made it impossible not to.”

he stared at you for a moment, and for a second you thought you saw something falter in his expression, regret, maybe, or guilt, but then it was gone, replaced with that same unreadable mask. “i’m not going to apologize for not feeling the same way. i’m not going to pretend i can be something i’m not.”

you felt the words like a slow burn in your chest. “and i’m not going to keep letting you walk in and out of my life like you own it. i’m done being your midnight love, your second choice, your–”

“you’re not my second choice,” he cut in, but there was no conviction in it, no heat. it sounded almost like he was saying it because he thought he should, not because he believed it.

you gave a small, broken laugh. “you could have fooled me.”

he let out a long, exasperated breath. “you make everything into drama.”

“no, jungkook, i make everything real,” you shot back. “you’re just too afraid to admit that keeping me around is selfish. because you like me enough to not let me go, but not enough to actually choose me. and that is worse than if you didn’t care at all.”

for a moment, neither of you moved. your breathing was uneven, your hands clenched at your sides, and he was just staring at you like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words or maybe didn’t want to. and then he looked away, like that was easier than facing the truth in your eyes. 

you could feel the heat rising in your chest, a suffocating pressure that made every breath taste bitter, like you’d swallowed every unsaid word from the past two years and they were all fighting to come out at once. “and don’t you dare tell me i’m making drama,” you said, your voice low but shaking, your fingers curling into your palms so tightly you could feel your nails against your skin. “not when you walk into my life whenever it suits you, disappear when something better comes along, and then have the audacity to act like i’m the one making things complicated. you don’t get to rewrite the story, jungkook. you don’t get to pretend that the nights you stayed weren’t real, that the mornings we woke up together didn’t mean anything. you look at me like i’m yours when you want to, and then you expect me to turn that part of me off the second you’ve had your fill. do you have any idea what that does to a person?”

he let out a sharp laugh, though there was nothing amused about it, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to shake you off him. “and do you have any idea what it’s like to be trapped by someone else’s expectations? i told you from the very beginning what i could give. i didn’t promise you forever. i didn’t promise you love. you were the one who decided to hope for something else, not me. so no, i’m not going to apologize for not being who you wanted me to be. i can’t be that person. and you acting like i’ve committed some crime for being honest is ridiculous.”

your jaw clenched so hard it almost hurt, but you couldn’t stop now, not when every part of you was shaking from the weight of all the nights you stayed quiet instead of saying what you wanted to scream. “being honest?” you repeated, your voice rising with each word. “is that what you call it? you were honest in words, maybe, but not in actions. you kissed me like i was the only person you’d ever want, you touched me like i was home, you let me into the parts of yourself you don’t show anyone else and then you expect me to believe it was nothing? that i was imagining all of it? you can’t have it both ways, jungkook. you can’t make me feel like i’m everything one night and then treat me like i’m nothing the next.”

he stepped closer, his expression hard, his voice cutting through the space between you. “and you can’t keep blaming me for feelings you chose to have. i never asked you to fall for me. i never told you i would fall for you. we had something good, but you’ve ruined it by trying to turn it into something it wasn’t meant to be.”

you stared at him, the words hitting you like shards of glass. “something good?” you repeated, your tone almost mocking. “good for who, jungkook? for you, because you got everything you wanted without giving anything back? because you could keep me in your bed, in your life, without having to make a single sacrifice? do you even understand how small you’ve made me feel? how many nights i’ve sat here wondering why i wasn’t enough for you to choose me? and the worst part is, you knew. you knew i was falling, and you didn’t stop me, because it was convenient for you to let me believe there might be more, just so you could keep coming back when it suited you.”

he shook his head, his jaw tight, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “i don’t love you. i’ve told you that, and i’ll keep telling you until it sinks in. i can’t give you more, and i won’t pretend otherwise just to make you feel better. and if that’s not enough for you, then maybe you should finally walk away.”

you felt the sting in your chest, sharp and deep, but you didn’t let him see you flinch. “maybe i should,” you said, your voice low, though it wavered on the edges. “but we both know you’ll just show up again. you’ll text me at two in the morning, you’ll call me when you’re drunk or lonely or bored, and you’ll expect me to open the door. and you know what the sad part is? i probably will. because you’ve made me so used to living off the scraps you give me that i don’t even remember what it feels like to be full.”

he swallowed hard, his eyes darkening in a way you couldn’t quite read, but his tone stayed sharp. “then stop letting me in.”

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “if it were that simple, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. because you don’t actually want me gone, do you? you just don’t want me to ask for more. you want me exactly where i am, close enough for you to reach when you need me, far enough that you don’t have to feel guilty when you don’t.”

and the silence after that was heavy, almost unbearable, both of you breathing hard, your words still hanging between you like smoke. you hated that even now, with every raw truth spilled out on the floor, some part of you still ached for him to reach for you, to close the distance, to tell you you were wrong about all of it. but instead, he just stood there, his eyes locked on yours, saying nothing at all.

the air between you was so thick it felt like it was pressing down on your chest, the kind of silence that wasn’t really silent at all, because you could still hear the way your own heart was pounding in your ears, the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the faint hum of the city outside your window that suddenly felt too far away to matter. you stood there with your arms crossed so tightly across your chest it almost hurt, like if you just held yourself together hard enough you wouldn’t crack open right there in front of him. and still he didn’t say anything, just stared at you with that unreadable expression that had always been the most dangerous thing about him, because it let you believe anything you wanted to believe, that he was about to apologize, that he was about to tell you you’d misunderstood everything, that he was about to fight for you. but he didn’t. and with every second that passed, you felt your anger curling tighter and tighter inside you, until it had nowhere to go but out.

“say something,” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended, because you couldn’t stand the way he just looked at you, calm and unbothered, like you hadn’t just torn yourself open in front of him. “or is that it? you’re just going to stand there and watch me fall apart while you pretend it doesn’t touch you at all?”

he blinked once, slow, and his voice was maddeningly even when he finally spoke. “what do you want me to say? that i lied? that i’ve secretly been in love with you all this time? i’m not going to feed you a fantasy just because it’s what you want to hear.”

“no,” you snapped, stepping closer, the words spilling faster now. “what i want is for you to admit that you’ve been selfish. that you’ve taken everything i’ve given you and used it to fill the parts of yourself you didn’t want to deal with, and then thrown me back when you didn’t need me anymore. i want you to admit that you don’t actually want me to be happy without you, because if you did, you wouldn’t keep showing up like this. you’d let me go.”

his jaw tightened, “you think you’ve got me all figured out,” he said quietly, “but maybe you’re just angry because you couldn’t change me. because you thought if you stayed long enough, if you loved me hard enough, i’d become the person you needed. but i didn’t. and i won’t.”

your breath caught, because he wasn’t wrong, and somehow that made it worse. “you know what’s pathetic?” you said, your voice breaking even as you tried to hold it steady. “you’re right. i did think that. i thought maybe i could be enough to make you want more. and the worst part is, even now, with you standing here telling me you’ll never give me anything else, i still want you to stay. i still want you to want me. what does that say about me, jungkook? that i’m so used to being your second choice that i don’t even know how to want better anymore?”

he didn’t answer right away, just looked at you in a way that made your skin burn, not with desire but with the raw, aching awareness of how far apart you really were. when he finally spoke, his voice was softer, but not kinder. “it says you should stop before you lose yourself completely.”

and something about that, the cold practicality of it, the way it sounded like advice instead of an apology, made you feel like the floor had dropped out from under you. you almost laughed, because if he thought you hadn’t already lost parts of yourself to him, he hadn’t been paying attention at all.

you stood there for a moment that felt like it stretched into hours, staring at him, at the way he didn’t flinch under your words, at the way his chest rose and fell so steadily while yours felt like it was caving in. your hands were cold, but your face was burning, and you hated that he could stand there so unaffected while you felt like your skin was being stripped away. you wanted him to see it, to see exactly what he was doing to you, but all you saw in his face was that same maddening calm, that same unshakable distance, like none of this was shaking him the way it was tearing you apart. maybe that was what broke you, maybe that was what finally made something inside you snap, because suddenly your voice was spilling into the air, sharp and unsteady but louder than before.

“get out.”

his eyebrows twitched, the smallest sign that he had actually heard you, but his feet didn’t move.

you took a step forward, your pulse hammering so loudly you could almost hear it over your own voice. “get out, jungkook. this–” you gestured between you, that invisible but suffocating thread that had kept you tied to him for too long “–this is over.” your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down. “no, wait…” you laughed bitterly, the sound scraping your throat raw. “it’s not even over, because that would mean it started. and it never did, not really. not for you. for you this was just convenient, wasn’t it? easy. familiar. something you could step into whenever it suited you and step out of without a single thought about what it was doing to me. and i let you make me believe otherwise.”

his jaw tightened for the first time that night, his eyes narrowing just a fraction, but still he stayed rooted in place, like your living room was his territory. “you don’t mean that,” he said, voice low, almost dismissive. “you’re just angry.”

“angry?” you repeated, letting the word sit heavy on your tongue before throwing it back at him. “you think this is just anger? no, jungkook, this is me finally seeing you for what you are. and it’s me realizing that i’ve been stupid enough to think you might change. i have been here every single time you wanted me, and where were you when i needed you? where were you when i was falling apart and you were out at some party with another girl? when you were in bed with another? when you were waking up to another?” your voice trembled now, not from fear but from exhaustion. “you don’t love me. you can’t love me. you told me that. but you also don’t have the decency to let me go.”

you swallowed hard, forcing the words out through the lump in your throat. “so get out. because if you don’t, i’m going to forget everything you just said. i’m going to let you stay, like i always do. and tomorrow you’ll be gone again, and i’ll be back here, waiting for a doorbell that should never ring.”

for a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of your refrigerator in the kitchen. he didn’t move, and you didn’t look away, the air between you electric with all the words you had never said before tonight. his mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. and for the first time, you didn’t rush to fill the silence. you just stood there, waiting for him to leave.

for a second, you thought he would say something. maybe apologies, maybe say goodbye, how you were right. something, anything, but he didn’t. he stepped past you without a word, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air as the door clicked shut behind him.

and you stayed there, frozen in the silence, your chest heaving, your hands shaking, realizing this was the first time you hadn't run after him. the first time you had chosen to let him walk away.

you knew it now with a kind of bone-deep clarity that made your chest ache, because this was all you were ever going to be; his midnight love, his favourite second, the one he reached for only when the rest of the world had gone quiet and there was no one else left to answer him. you weren’t the girl he wanted in the daylight, the one he would take to family dinners or introduce to his friends without hesitation. you were the secret he kept tucked away, the comfort he came back to when it suited him, the person he knew would always pick up no matter how late, no matter how many times he had disappeared before. and you had let yourself be that, time and time again, because in those dark, quiet hours when it was just you and him, it was easy to pretend that maybe it meant something more.

but you couldn’t be his midnight love when your silver was his gold. you couldn’t keep offering everything you had while knowing you were only a shadow of what he wanted. in the dim light, he didn’t make promises, didn’t whisper about forever, but his hands would linger like they knew you, his gaze would hold you like there was no one else and that was enough to make you believe for just a heartbeat. but the truth was always waiting in the morning, sharp and undeniable. you weren’t his first choice. you were close, but never his favourite.

and then, when you were standing alone in your living room, truly alone with your thoughts, and the things he said still ringing in your ears, you finally let the tears fall.

[minyoongiss]

funny

[minyoongiss]

BUSINESS PROPOSAL | jeon jungkook | one

you were supposed to sabotage your best friend's blind date. make him lose interest. scare him off a little, maybe accidentally insult his ego enough that hed go home and tell his parents there had been “no chemistry.” you were absolutely not supposed to make him want to marry her. or technically you in her form.

pairing: ceo!jeon jungkook x you/reader

warnings: none

word count: 14.9k

authors note: a little late hihi. if you want to be added to the taglist let me know in the comments. (pls!! make sure that the feature to tag you is on/activated in your settings.)

series masterlist

sitting in the auditorium wasn't exactly how you had imagined spending your friday morning. honestly, having to work on a friday morning already felt unfair enough. cruel, how you knowingly had to sit here when the weekend was so close, only for reality to remind you that there were still several hours standing between you and two full days of doing absolutely nothing productive. 

somehow you had accepted the fact that adulthood involved working five days a week. you had even accepted that fridays weren't magically exempt from meetings, deadlines and emails. what you hadn't and couldn't accepted was being pulled away from your actual work to sit in an auditorium because the company had decided welcoming its new president required an audience. but were you really sad about that?

whoever had organized this had clearly never considered the emotional state of office workers before the weekend. most people (you) were already mentally halfway home, counting down the hours until they could leave, and yet here everyone was, packed into rows waiting for an assembly nobody had volunteered to attend. the room buzzed with quiet conversations that died down whenever someone important walked by, only to pick up again a few seconds later. people leaned toward one another, whispering in small groups, while others pretended to scroll through their phones despite checking the entrance every few moments. even the employees who usually looked ready to fall asleep during the shortest presentations suddenly seemed awake.

well, everyone wanted to know the same thing: what kind of person the new president would be. whether he planned to change anything, whether he was one of those executives who liked to "shake things up", or whether everyone's routines would remain untouched. there were already enough rumors floating around to keep the office entertained for weeks, ranging from complete restructuring to mass layoffs to the comforting possibility that absolutely nothing would happen at all. nobody actually knew anything, which naturally meant everyone had an opinion.

the rumors certainly hadn't helped.

young.

single.

ridiculously wealthy, according to half the company.

which, to be fair, wasn't exactly difficult to believe. he was the new president of your company. someone stepping into a position like that was bound to attract attention, whether they wanted it or not.

for the past week, he'd been the only topic anyone seemed capable of discussing. every coffee break somehow drifted back to him. whispered conversations outside meeting rooms always ended the same way. each person claimed to know something the others didn't, even though every version contradicted the last. nobody seemed willing to admit that, beneath all the speculation, they knew almost nothing.

there was only one rumor everyone repeated with surprising confidence.

apparently, he was exceptionally attractive.

the amusing part was that almost nobody in the company had ever met him. president jeon was a name people knew, but a person they didn't. according to what everyone had heard, he had spent the past few years working overseas, mainly in canada, handling things far away from the company's everyday operations. at least, that was the story everyone repeated.

whether it was completely accurate was another question.

"i heard he's hot," yejin whispered beside you. lowering her voice as though she were passing along highly confidential information instead of the least useful rumor currently circulating through the company.

you turned your head slowly to look at her.

yejin met your stare without the slightest hint of shame. as if she ever felt shame at all.

"what?"you added, "that's what you're worried about?"

she frowned.

"it's not worrying."

"then what is it?"

"preparation."

you blinked.

"preparation?"

"yes."

you rolled your eyes.

"so you're telling me the company gets a new president, and your first concern is not whether he's going to cut budgets or fire people?"

yejin shrugged so casually it was almost insulting.

"those are all possibilities."

"he could make everyone work overtime," you argued.

"that's unfortunate."

"he could cut our bonuses."

"tragic."

"he could make this office an absolute nightmare."

"i know."

what were you expecting? this was yejin.

instead, she smiled.

"but if he is attractive," she said with complete confidence, "at least i'll be miserable in a visually pleasing environment."

you pressed your lips together so hard they almost disappeared.

you genuinely tried not to laugh but you failed.

a quiet laugh escaped before you could stop it, and you shook your head. "you're unbelievable."

but suddenly the lights faded.

yejin leaned closer one last time.

"please let him be hot."

you sighed but before you could come up with a response, someone on the stage stepped forward.

the room went quiet in an instant.

for a second, everyone seemed to wonder the same thing.

was that him?

a man stood at the podium. and, to be fair, he was definitely good looking. like really good.

he adjusted the microphone calmly, completely unaware or maybe completely uninterested in the silent evaluation happening across the room.

"good morning," he said, his voice steady and controlled. "i'm mr. kim namjoon, chief secretary to president jeon. i'll be speaking on his behalf today."

so it wasn't him.

a quiet disappointment moved through the auditorium almost immediately. or through you.

a few sighs escaped. someone behind you muttered something under their breath. another person shifted in their seat like they had been personally tricked by the universe.

namjoon didn't react.

he simply looked down at the papers in his hands and continued with the same calm expression, completely unaffected by the fact that an entire room had just collectively lost a little bit of excitement.

"i'll now deliver president jeon's inaugural address."

the room settled again, slower this time, accepting that this was all they were getting for now. curiosity hadn't disappeared, though. if anything, it had only grown stronger.

after all, if a man nobody had ever met could create this much anticipation before even stepping into the building, everyone wanted to know what kind of person president jeon actually was.

namjoon began reading.

"first," he said evenly, "thank you to everyone who organized today's ceremony despite me explicitly saying i didn't want one."

you blinked.

for a second, the entire room seemed to process the sentence at the same time.

then you slowly turned toward jimin your other coworker who was really quite till now. very unlike him. 

"rude."

"honest," he corrected immediately.

beside you, yejin leaned forward slightly, her expression changing as if she was trying to rebuild her entire impression of president jeon based solely on the first ten seconds of a message delivered by someone else.

namjoon continued without hesitation.

"i hope that moving forward, we'll meet for business matters rather than impractical ceremonial events."

another silence settled over the auditorium.

it wasn't the same kind of silence from before. the disappointment of not seeing him was still there, but it had been replaced by something closer to confusion. nobody knew whether they were supposed to find the message arrogant, reasonable, or somehow both at the same time.

jimin leaned slightly closer to you, lowering his voice as the people around you started whispering again.

"i don't know who mr. jeon is."

a small pause.

"but i think i like him."

you let out a quiet breath of laughter.

"of course you do."

"he canceled his own ceremony," jimin said, as if that alone explained everything. "that's efficient."

"or disrespectful."

"or practical."

"or slightly terrifying."

"those aren't mutually exclusive."

you shook your head, still looking toward the stage where namjoon remained completely unaffected by the reactions around him. he simply continued readin as if delivering a message from a man nobody had ever met to an entire room full of curious employees was part of his everyday schedule.

and maybe, based on what everyone had heard about president jeon, that was exactly the kind of thing people expected from him.

when namjoon reached, what you assume, the end of the page, he paused briefly, his eyes moving over the lines before looking back up. "president jeon will properly introduce himself soon," he said.

he lowered the paper.

"thank you."

and that was it.

the lights brightened again. chairs shifted, conversations restarted, and you could hear theories began forming before anyone had even left their seats.

yejin turned toward you, completely serious now.

"okay, but he looks really hot." dear god.

"since it's ms. y/n's birthday, i made reservations at auntie's street food for our team dinner today. ms. y/n's favorite."

the announcement barely had time to settle before the office reacted as if someone had just delivered the most exciting news of the entire week. which, considering how everyone had spent the last few days buried under deadlines and meetings, wasn't even that much of an exaggeration. apparently, the promise of free food and leaving work together was enough.

within seconds, conversations started overlapping. people began discussing what they wanted to order, who was going to sit where, and whether they should get extra portions of certain dishes, even though nobody had even left the office yet.

well quite frankly the office and the people was only jimin, yejin, sora and you. something about "we don't need a big group of people checking the quality of the food" acting like it was a job for four.

"all right, how long has it been since we actually went out together like this?" jimin said loudly, looking at you with far more enthusiasm than he ever showed in your years of working here.

typical.

you blinked when you noticed the attention slowly shifting toward you, and despite the warmth that came with realizing they had thought about you, you still felt slightly uncomfortable being the center of it. birthdays had never really been something you made a big deal out of, especially not at work.

"you guys really didn't have to do that just for my birthday," you said with a small smile, trying to make it sound more casual than it actually felt. "but thank you."

"what are you talking about?" jimin replied immediately, his expression making it seem like you had just suggested something completely unreasonable. "as a team, we stick together. birthdays are basically mandatory emotional maintenance."

you looked at him for a second. calm down sassy queen.

"that is not a thing."

"it is now."

he said it with such certainty that arguing against him made no sense at all. jimin had a strange ability to say something completely made up and deliver it with enough confidence that, for a brief moment, you wondered if you had somehow missed an official announcement.

yejin, who had been listening beside him, slowly nodded.

"the concerning part is that sometimes people let him get away with this."

"because i'm convincing."

"because people get tired."

"same result."

you shook your head, laughing quietly despite yourself as the office continued to fill with noise. people were already collecting their things, pulling on jackets, and making plans for the evening as if the dinner had somehow erased the exhaustion from the entire day. it was almost impressive how quickly everyone forgot about deadlines the moment there was food involved.

not that you could blame them.

after all, a team dinner was probably one of the few things that could make everyone willingly stay together after spending eight hours in the same building.

your phone vibrated in your pocket at exactly the moment everyone started getting ready to leave.

which was either terrible timing or suspiciously perfect timing.

taehyung.

for a second, the noise around you continued as normal, but your attention had already shifted. the conversations, the laughter, the sound of chairs moving and bags being picked up all blurred slightly into the background as you looked down at the message waiting on your screen.

one simple sentence.

taehyung [4:08p.m.]: seeing you today?

you stared at it longer than necessary.

because technically, it was just a question. a normal question. something that didn't require a complicated reaction. but unfortunately, your brain had never been particularly good at treating taehyung like a normal person, and apparently today was not going to be the day it started.

a simple message. a simple, harmless message. you reaped in your head.

and yet, somehow, it still managed to shift something in your chest in a way you couldn't immediately name. that quite familiar feeling. it was just a question, a few ordinary words from someone you happened to know very well and somehow still couldn't quite understand. there was nothing special about the message itself, but the fact that it was from him seemed to be enough to make your entire brain react like it had received something much more complicated.

which was honestly a little embarrassing.

your thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before you finally let out a quiet breath and slipped your phone back into your pocket after a quick reply. hopefully your expression hadn't changed too noticeably. but unfortunately, still a small smile crept its way slowly to your lips. staying there just long enough for you to notice it and immediately become annoyed with yourself for noticing it.

apparently, one message was all it took.

great. really great. 

you made your way over to sora's desk. "sora," you said, leaning slightly toward her desk, "i can't make it to dinner tonight."

sora looked up at you. and the lack of surprise on her face immediately told you that she had already figured out the reason.

she slowly leaned back in her chair, studying you with that calm, slightly too observant expression she always had when she was about to say something you probably didn't want to hear.

"and that definitely has nothing to do with a man," she said, tilting her head slightly, "and the fact that your dead eyes suddenly look like they remembered how to function?"

you stopped.

"dead eyes?"

"yeah," she replied casually, "those."

you stared at her for a moment before letting out a quiet breath that was halfway between a laugh and surrender.

"that's actually rude."

"but accurate."

you opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again because unfortunately, there wasn't much of an argument available. instead, you adjusted the strap of your bag and looked away, accepting that trying to defend yourself would probably only make her more convinced she was right.

"yes," you admitted eventually. "something like that."

sora raised an eyebrow but didn't push any further.

"plan change and only us three without y/n."

before you could escape, yejin's voice came from the side.

"so it's going to be just us without the birthday girl?"

she leaned back in her chair with exaggerated disappointment, looking almost personally betrayed by the situation. considering she had been completely ready to spend the evening eating good food and avoiding work-related thoughts.

you glanced at her while adjusting your bag.

"yeah, looks like it."

jimin, who had been sitting nearby, placed a hand over his chest, looking genuinely offended, and then slowly mouthed one word at you.

traitor.

you stared at him. did i not say? sassy.

because apparently missing one dinner had officially become a betrayal of the team.

you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped as you shook your head. "you'll survive," you said, already stepping away before he could turn this into another dramatic argument. "have fun without me."

jimin narrowed his eyes at you, clearly still committed to the performance, and then exaggerated his expression even further, silently forming another accusation with his lips as if he wanted to make sure you understood the emotional damage you had caused.

you didn't even try to figure out what he was saying. you simply waved him off and started walking away.

"i'm going," you added, more to yourself than anyone else, already moving toward the exit as the familiar.

outside, the air felt cooler than it probably should have for the time of day. your attention was already somewhere else, divided between watching where you were walking, trying to keep your bag from slipping off your shoulder again, and pretending you weren't thinking about the fact that your phone had started ringing before you had even properly decided where you were going.

you already knew who it was before you looked.

young-seo.

you answered without hesitation, which, you know probably deserved at least a little more consideration.

"what is the birthday girl doing right now?" her voice came through instant. bright and far too energetic for someone who had apparently been stuck working overtime. "since i have to work overtime."

you smiled despite yourself, because of course she sounded like she had been waiting for the exact second you answered.

"i told you it's okay."

"but still, it's your birthday." she let out a long, exaggerated sigh."do you understand how unfair this is? i'm supposed to be there. i'm your best friend. i've earned birthday privileges."

you adjusted your bag as you continued walking.

"birthday privileges?"

"yes," she said immediately, completely serious. "annoying you in person. stealing food from your plate. reminding you that you're not allowed to pretend your birthday is just another normal day. i had an entire plan."

"that sounds exhausting."

"it was going to be exhausting," she corrected without hesitation. "for you."

you laughed quietly.

"but seriously," she continued after a moment, her voice softening slightly. "i do feel bad. i've been thinking about it all day. every few minutes i remembered it was your birthday and thought, 'wow, i'm actually the worst best friend alive.'"

"you're not."

"i know," she replied immediately.

you smiled.

"that was fast."

"because i know myself better than anyone else does," she said confidently. "i'm dramatic, but i'm also usually correct about my own greatness."

"that's not how that works."

"agree to disagree."

you shook your head, already knowing there was no point arguing.

"so," she continued, changing the subject, "what are you doing?"

"i have plans."

there was a small pause.

then came the sound. that quiet little "mm" that immediately made you suspicious. of course she noticed.

"with who?"

you hesitated for half a second.

which, unfortunately, was probably enough information by itself.

"taehyung."

there was silence on the other end.

"oh."

another pause.

"well."

you frowned slightly.

"well?"

"i take it back."

you blinked.

"take what back?"

"feeling sorry for you."

you stopped walking for a moment, mostly because you needed to process how quickly the conversation had changed direction.

"what?"

"i spent the whole morning thinking, 'wow, my poor best friend. it's her birthday and i can't even be there.'" she paused, letting the dramatic sadness of her earlier thoughts exist for exactly two seconds before destroying it herself. "turns out you're spending it with the guy you've been losing your mind over for ages."

"young-seoya."

"what?" she asked, completely unbothered. 

"stop it."

"stop what? teasing you about your crush? when wilk you even confess?never or never?" you could practically hear the smile in her voice.

"look, i'm still sad i can't be there," she added, sounding a little more genuine. "obviously. i wanted to spend your birthday with you. but i'm happy that you're at least not sitting alone in your room eating convenience store food and staring sadly out a window."

you couldn't help laughing.

"i wasn't going to do that."

"i know. but you know i have a talent for making things sound like they could happen."

you shook your head, smiling as you continued walking.

there was a short pause after. then she hummed quietly.

"actually, that reminds me."

you immediately became suspicious.

you knew that tone.

young-seo had a very specific way of introducing a topic when she had been thinking about it for longer than she wanted to admit.

"what?"

"that necklace."

your steps slowed slightly.

"what about it?"

"the one i found at the restaurant and showed you hello?."

you didn't answer right away, and you already knew that the silence probably told her more than you wanted it to.

"i've been thinking about it," she continued. "and the more i think about it, the less i believe your explanation."

"young-seoya."

"wait, just listen."

you sighed quietly because there was no point stopping her once she had decided she was making an argument.

"the packaging wasn't cheap, there was a handwritten card inside, and it wasn't exactly something someone accidentally leaves behind without noticing. i mean, unless people have started abandoning expensive jewelry as some kind of weird public service, i don't really see how your explanation makes sense."

you looked down at the necklace in your hand, turning it slightly between your fingers.

"you still think it's nothing?"

"i think," you said, "that it's probably just a misunderstanding."

there was a pause.

"mm."

you already knew what that meant.

"what?"

"i'm just appreciating how committed you are to pretending everything is completely normal."

"because it is normal."

"sure."

you could practically hear her expression through the phone.

"you literally told me before that it was too thoughtful to be something you'd expect from 'just friends.'"

you frowned slightly.

"i never said it exactly like that."

"you absolutely did."

"you're remembering it differently."

"no, i'm remembering it correctly. you're just editing the conversation now because the original version makes you uncomfortable."

you let out a quiet groan.

"stop analyzing my life."

"i'm not analyzing your life."

"you are."

"no," she corrected calmly. "i'm observing patterns."

"that's literally the same."

she laughed softly.

"okay, fair."

you smiled despite yourself.

the restaurant came into. light spilling through the windows. you slowed slightly before entering, suddenly becoming aware of every small thing you had successfully ignored until that exact moment. your hair, your clothes, your expression, the way you were standing, even the way you were breathing somehow felt like something you should be paying attention to.

which was ridiculous.

it was just dinner.

with taehyung.

on your birthday.

okay.

maybe your brain had a point.

"romantic dinner incoming," young-seo's voice immediately appeared in your head, completely uninvited and incredibly unhelpful.

you exhaled quietly.

"shut up," you muttered under your breath, even though there was obviously no one there to hear you.

you caught your reflection in the glass one last time and adjusted your collar, fixed your grip on your bag, and attempted to make your expression look like that of a completely normal person arriving at a completely normal dinner.

whether you succeeded was questionable. but at some point, you had to stop preparing for a moment that was already happening.

so you pushed the door open.

taehyung looked up almost immediately.

the moment he noticed you, he stood and walked toward you with two plates in his hands, looking completely relaxed, as if this was just an ordinary thing and not something that had caused your thoughts to become unnecessarily complicated for the past several hours.

"just sit," he said simply. "i'll bring everything."

you obeyed much faster than you intended to.

the table was already prepared when you reached it, candles flickering softly in the middle, the kind of small detail that should have been easy to ignore but somehow wasn't. you stood there for a second longer than necessary, trying to convince yourself that it wasn't meaningful, that it was just a nice setup for dinner.

your brain, unfortunately, was not convinced.

when taehyung returned, he placed the dishes down carefully and sat across from you like nothing about the situation needed further explanation.

"i made japchae," he said. "your favorite."

something in your chest tightened slightly.

small but annoyingly noticeable.

"you remembered that?"

he looked at you as if the answer was obvious.

"of course."

you immediately tried to brush it off, because apparently accepting kindness normally was not something your brain was interested in doing.

"you really didn't have to—"

"it's your birthday," he interrupted gently. "today is for you."

you laughed softly, but it didn't completely hide the way the words affected you. the conversation continued easily after that, moving between simple topics and familiar jokes, everything comfortable on the surface while something quieter remained underneath.

and maybe that was the problem.

because with taehyung, even ordinary moments had a habit of feeling more significant than they probably were.

after dinner came dessert.

cheesecake.

another thing he somehow remembered.

and just when you thought you had finally settled into the evening, he stood again and reached into his apron pocket.

naturally, your brain reacted immediately.

because apparently a man reaching into his pocket during your birthday dinner was enough to make your thoughts jump ahead before you had any control over them.

he pulled out an envelope.

"before i forget."

your stomach dropped slightly before you even understood why.

a simple envelope. not the necklace?

the realization felt strangely disappointing.

which was honestly ridiculous.

because why exactly were you disappointed about a necklace that had never belonged to you, had never been promised to you, and had only become important because your own imagination had decided to make it important?

apparently, your brain had decided that creating emotional attachment to an object you didn't even own was a completely reasonable hobby.

great.

very healthy.

he placed it in front of you with the same calm expression he always had, completely unaware that small gestures tended to stay in your mind much longer than they probably should.

"happy birthday, y/n," taehyung said, bringing your attention back to the envelope in your hands. "tickets to your favorite singer's concert."

you looked down at the envelope, momentarily unsure what to say. it wasn't just the fact that he had bought the tickets. it was the fact that he had remembered. you had mentioned the concert once, casually, without expecting him to actually keep it in mind, and somehow that small detail made the gift feel much more personal than the tickets themselves. which was inconvenient, because apparently your heart had decided that remembering one small comment was enough to become emotionally significant.

exactly what you needed.

it was a good gift. a meaningful gift.

you should have been completely happy. and you were. mostly. except your mind kept circling back to the necklace.

and now you had an answer.

it wasn't for you. if it wasn't for you, then who was it for?

you immediately disliked how quickly that thought appeared.

because what exactly were you supposed to do with that information? start making a list of possible people? investigate his gift history? casually wonder who else he might have been thinking about?

apparently.

because here you were.

you looked down at the tickets in your hands and reminded yourself that he was sitting right there. that he had remembered your favorite singer. that he had taken the time to do something thoughtful for your birthday.

"they weren't easy to get," he added, almost immediately making the moment feel less serious again. "so make sure you actually go."

you looked back up at him, smiling slightly because, of course, even after doing something thoughtful, he somehow managed to make it sound like a simple practical matter. as if he hadn't spent time finding something you liked, as if this wasn't your birthday, as if your brain hadn't already started creating unnecessary meaning out of everything.

"and go with a guy."

you blinked.

"what?"

"not with young-seo."

for a second, you just stared at him, waiting for him to laugh or explain that he was joking. because surely that was the part where he was supposed to realize how that sounded. unfortunately, taehyung simply smiled like he had just given you the most obvious advice in the world.

"thank you taehyung. you didn't have to do that." a smile on your lips. at least something that resembled a smike.

"friends do this kind of thing."

friends.

of course. right. friends do this kid of thing. what were you even expecting? a necklace?

you lowered your gaze to your hands before your expression could betray you. your throat tightened slightly, and you swallowed once, then again, as if your body had decided that a normal reaction would be far too easy and therefore unnecessary. unfortunately, the dramatic internal performance continued without your approval.

you blamed the lighting at first.

the warm lamps. the candles on the table making everything look suspiciously more emotional than a regular dinner probably deserved.

restaurants really did have questionable timing.

they created a romantic atmosphere, played soft music, made people sit across from each other while sharing food, and then acted surprised when someone accidentally developed feelings. honestly, the entire concept felt slightly suspicious.

you blinked again.

unfortunately, the problem remained.

you pressed your lips together, trying to collect yourself before he noticed anything.

he noticed anyway.

his smile slowly faded, not completely disappearing, but changing into something more concerned. he tilted his head slightly as he studied your face, his expression quiet and difficult to read.

"aren't you happy?"

you looked up a little too quickly.

"what?"

"the gift." his voice stayed gentle. "you don't look very happy."

for a moment, you didn't know what to say.

because technically, he was right.

you probably didn't look happy.

you wondered what he saw. whether he noticed the way your eyes kept avoiding his, the way you were holding yourself too carefully, the way your smile appeared slightly delayed because you had to remember to put it there.

smiling was easy.

convincing someone you were fine was where things became complicated.

"of course i am," you said, forcing out a small laugh. "it's just—"

you stopped.

because the actual explanation was impossible.

how exactly were you supposed to say: "thank you for the thoughtful birthday gift, unfortunately my brain is currently distracted because you casually reminded me that i am only your friend"?

probably not the ideal birthday conversation.

"unexpected," you finished instead.

he watched you quietly for another moment, trying to understand something that didn't fully make sense. because apparently your words and your face had decided to have completely different opinions.

"i thought you'd like it."

"i do."

the answer came immediately.

"i really do."

and that was the frustrating part.

you meant it.

you loved the gift. you loved that he remembered something you had mentioned. you loved that he had taken the time to choose something based on your interests and somehow still acted like it was nothing special.

none of that was the problem.

the problem was that he had done it as your friend.

and somehow, that simple fact was the one detail your heart had conveniently forgotten to consider.

the silence between you stretched gently after that, and you realized you probably couldn't stay much longer. every additional minute made it harder to keep your expression under control, and you had the uncomfortable feeling that if you stayed, you might accidentally reveal something you had spent months trying to hide.

so you stood.

a little too quickly.

the chair scraped against the floor, causing a few nearby people to glance over before returning to their own conversations.

which was fair.

they probably had much more normal birthday dinners happening.

"i should go," you said, already reaching for your bag. "my parents probably need some help."

the excuse sounded weak the second you said it.

even you didn't believe it.

which was not exactly encouraging for your imaginary acting career.

but taehyung didn't question it.

he simply nodded, accepting the explanation without making you defend it.

"of course," he said softly. "should i pack something for you?"

"no."

the answer came far too quickly.

you cleared your throat and tried again.

"it's fine."

you focused on your bag strap instead of looking at him. because looking at him felt dangerous now. one kind expression, one gentle smile, one more reminder that he cared about you in all the ways that somehow still weren't the way you wanted.

"thank you," you said quietly.

and you weren't even sure anymore what you were thanking him for.

the dinner.

the gift.

his kindness.

or maybe for unintentionally making something clear that you had spent far too long hoping would stay uncertain. friends.

"get home safely."

there it was again.

that same effortless warmth that had made everything complicated.

he wasn't trying to hurt you. that was the worst part. if he had been careless, if he had been distant, if he had done something obviously wrong, maybe it would have been easier.

but he wasn't.

he was thoughtful. he was kind. he was exactly the person you had always known him to be. and maybe that was why it hurt.

because you had spent so much time worrying about saying the wrong thing that you had never considered he might not even realize there had been something left unsaid.

you managed one last smile.

"i will."

this time, you didn't wait for another reply.

you turned, walked toward the door, and pushed it open before either of you had the chance to add anything else.

which was probably for the best.

because apparently your emotional stability had already suffered enough damage for one evening.

your parents restaurant was louder than usual. filled to the brim with loud customers you had grown up inside of without ever really questioning it. orders were called out across the kitchen in overlapping voices, plates clinked somewhere near the counter, and the music your father refused to change because you  quote "it was so hip." the smell of fried chicken, garlic, soy sauce and oil hung in the air, you could swear had already clung to your clothes within minutes.

you were standing in the kitchen helping your mother, hands moving out of habit, coating chicken pieces in flour and seasoning while your mind kept slipping somewhere else entirely, refusing to stay in the present no matter how many times you tried to pull it back. it kept returning to the same sentence,

friends do that.

you pressed the coating into another piece of chicken a little harder than necessary, watching the flour stick unevenly before correcting it with practiced fingers. the problem wasn't that you didn't understand what he had said, it was that you understood it too clearly, cleanly enough that there was no space left for misinterpretation, no comforting ambiguity to soften the edges. it had been simple, but your mind had turned it over so many times it no longer felt simple at all.

friendzoned to say it in easier words. 

you had been put in the friend zone before you could even confess anything. not that you liked him. you absolutely did not. not in that way. but if, for some completely theoretical reason, you did like him, then congratulations; you were already trapped in the friend zone with no way out.

wait.

"mom," you called suddenly, voice sharper than intended.

she turned slightly, startled. "gosh, what? you scared me."

you exhaled, already gesturing toward the bowl in her hands as she was about to drop the chicken into the fryer. "i told you, you have to coat it properly if you want it crispy. you can't just toss it in and hope for the best, you have to be thorough or the batter won't stick."

your mother looked at you for a moment, then down at the bowl, completely unbothered. "but i am tossing it."

"that's not the same thing."

"then what is it?"

"it's everything but."

she blinked at you.

you let out a long breath, taking the bowl from her before she could argue further, instinctively slipping into the role you had never officially been given but somehow always ended up in. "if we're not going to do things properly, we should just close the shop," you muttered, already pressing the seasoning in the way you had shown her countless times.

from the front, your father laughed loudly enough that you didn't even need to see him to know he was grinning. "listen to her," he called out proudly. "future ceo of fried chicken."

your mother sighed. "more like dictator of fried chicken."

you ignored both of them or tried to.

"that's why the chicken y/n makes always tastes the best," a familiar voice said from the dining area.

you looked up briefly. mr. han was sitting at his usual table, smiling. a egular-customer. still hard to tell whether he was genuinely complimenting you or just enjoying his routine of teasing your father. you gave him a small polite smile in return.

"of course it does," your father answered before you could, chest puffed out with obvious pride. "she works at a major company, after all. discipline carries over."

you slowly turned your head toward him. "dad."

"what?"

"how exactly does office work translate into better fried chicken?"

he thought about it for a second. "precision."

"that's not an answer."

"it is to me."

your mother rolled her eyes so hard you briefly worried she might dislocate something. "must not be very fun working on your birthday," another customer added sympathetically from nearby.

before you could respond, your mother spoke instead, completely unfiltered as always. "please, i spent twenty hours in labor giving birth to her. compared to that, her working a birthday shift is nothing."

the kitchen went quiet for a beat.

you closed your eyes briefly. "mom."

"what?" she asked innocently.

"why do you always bring that up."

"because it's relevant."

"it's not."

"it is to me."

your father nodded solemnly like this was an established fact in science. "she did almost break my hand." how tragic.

"nobody needed that detail."

despite yourself, a small laugh slipped out of you. you focused a little harder on the chicken in front of you as if it could keep your thoughts from drifting again. but even as you worked, even as the restaurant noise filled every corner of the space, that same sentence found its way back in, softer this time, almost patient.

friends do that.

you swallowed slightly, pressing another piece into the bowl.

you were counting the cash register after closing, sorting the bills while matching the receipts one by one. after an entire day of smiling at customers, explaining the menu, carrying trays, and apologizing for things that weren't even your fault, silence should have felt comforting. instead, all you could hear was the humming refrigerator and the clinking of coins between your fingers.

"what's the point of group reservations?" you sighed while still counting the money.

without looking up, you flipped another receipt over and checked the total. "you give them a discount," you said annoyed. "and then they spend the entire evening filling themselves up with the free side dishes instead of ordering anything."

a tired laugh spread through the restaurant.

you leaned back for a second, rubbing your eyes before letting out a long breath.

"hey, y/n," your mother called from the kitchen entrance. "don't you have a boyfriend who could throw you a birthday party or something?" the irony was almost impressive, considering she had somehow managed to mention the one thing you very much did not have.

you opened your mouth, already preparing a sarcastic answer, when a voice from outside cut through the restaurant so loudly that everyone froze.

"i didn't leave anything in front of your store!"

the room fell silent.

you exchanged a confused look with your parents before instinctively moving toward the entrance.

"what's going on?"

the moment you stepped outside, the scene answered the question for you.

your younger brother was standing in the middle of the narrow street, pointing furiously at the owner of the seafood restaurant across from yours. between them sat a large plastic bucket.

"i told you i saw it!" your brother shouted, his voice echoing down the street.

his accusation carried far more confidence than most people his age could manage, which was both impressive and slightly concerning.

the restaurant owner barely reacted.

he stood in front of his entrance with the kind of expression that suggested this entire situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his way too busy day. not a serious argument. not a problem. just another annoying interruption between him and whatever he had actually planned to do.

"you've got a big mouth for a kid," he replied, completely unimpressed.

"yes, i do!" your brother fired back immediately.

you almost sighed. of course he did.

there were many possible ways to respond to an insult. ignoring it. walking away. pretending to be the bigger person.

your brother, unfortunately, had never shown much interest in any of those options.

"hey!"

you hurried over, grabbing his arm before he could take another step closer.

"what are you doing?"

instead of answering, he pointed furiously toward the bucket sitting between the two restaurants, his entire body practically vibrating with frustration.

"why is it always in front of our store?"

the question had been asked so many times that you could almost hear the exhaustion behind it. your family had spent years trying to avoid unnecessary conflicts, especially with neighbors, especially with people who seemed determined to create them.

but apparently, avoiding conflict only worked if the other person was also interested in avoiding it.

the owner shrugged.

"i put it there for one minute because a customer parked in front of ours."

then, without another word, he kicked the bucket across the pavement toward your family's entrance.

"that's all."

the sound of the bucket scraping against the concrete was somehow more irritating than the argument itself.

"you do it every chance you get," your brother accused, refusing to let the matter disappear.

"did you actually see me do it?" the owner asked, raising an eyebrow. "or are you just making things up again?"

"it's obvious!" your brother said it like it was the simplest fact in the world.

your mother had already joined the argument by then, still wearing her apron from the kitchen, a clear sign that she had left in the middle of work because apparently managing a restaurant and managing unreasonable neighbors were both somehow included in her daily responsibilities.

"we keep finding fish bones outside our restaurant," she said, her voice sharper than usual. "we don't sell fish. we sell chicken."

"take it," the owner replied without the slightest trace of embarrassment.

he nudged the bucket toward your family again with his foot. "we don't sell fish either."

"it literally says it right there," you and your mother said at the exact same time.

both of you pointed toward the menu hanging inside his front window.

"fish. dried fish. mackerel. squid," your mother continued, counting each item with growing disbelief. "what exactly are we supposed to think?"

the owner didn't even bother turning around.

"take it."

another careless kick sent the bucket sliding over the pavement.

your father stepped between everyone before another argument could grow into something worse. he raised both hands, the universal gesture of someone who had spent years learning how to calm people down before they made situations impossible to fix.

"come on," he said calmly. "we're all neighbors here. there's no need to fight. let's just talk this through."

"i'm doing this so we don't have to fight," the owner replied coldly.

your brother let out a bitter laugh.

"fine."

before anyone could react, he bent down, grabbed the bucket with both hands and shoved it straight against the owner's chest.

"then take it."

the man's eyes widened.

for the first time during the entire argument, he actually looked surprised.

he stumbled back slightly before immediately pushing the bucket away from himself.

"this is a new shirt!" he shouted. "i had it shipped from abroad!"

because apparently, in the middle of an argument about fish bones and restaurant boundaries, the most important victim was his ugly shirt. i mean look at the colours. since when do yellow and purple match?

he shoved the bucket back toward your brother.

"you take it. do whatever you want with it."

"hey!"

you stepped between them before your brother could throw it again, pulling the bucket out of his hands.

"don't throw things at—"

you never finished the sentence.

maybe it was exhaustion.maybe it was watching your parents apologize over and over to people who never seemed to think they owed anyone the same courtesy. maybe it was the years of swallowing frustration because keeping peace always seemed easier than admitting you were tired of being the only ones trying. or maybe it was the dinner with taehyung, him friendzoning you.

whatever the reason was, your body moved before your brain could catch up.

your arms lifted and you threw the bucket.

harder than you intended.

it flew across the short distance between you and the owner with a speed that even surprised you, hitting him directly in the chest with a dull, heavy impact.

for one second, nobody moved.

the man's expression changed completely.

the confidence disappeared. the arrogance disappeared.

then his balance gave out.

his feet slipped awkwardly against the pavement, his arms reaching for something that wasn't there, and before anyone could react, his entire body crashed backwards onto the concrete.

the sound echoed through the street.

silence followed immediately.

even your brother stopped talking.

the owner groaned, one hand moving to his back as his face twisted in pain. he tried to sit up, clearly more shocked than anything else.

your heart dropped.

"i—"

your voice barely came out.

"i didn't mean—" oh you did.

the apology got stuck somewhere between your thoughts and your mouth.

your brother, however, looked down at the man without the slightest hint of guilt. he crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head slightly, and shrugged.

as if to say: well. you deserved it.

"you were the one who started it."

your mother, unlike your brother, found absolutely nothing entertaining about what had just happened.

the second you stepped through the front door, she caught you by the ear and began dragging you toward the apartment upstairs before you could even gather enough courage to defend yourself. you stumbled after her, trying to keep up more out of necessity than willingness, while your brother wisely stayed outside. somehow, the boy who had been shouting at a grown man only seconds ago had suddenly discovered the remarkable survival instinct of pretending none of this had anything to do with him. all this years of you raising him, all the ramyeon you brought him with your pocket money. for what? traitor.

"get in here."

"ow ow ow"

"don't 'ow' me. get inside."

the apartment door closed behind you with a loud click. only then did your mother finally stop walking, although she made no effort whatsoever to release your ear. instead, she turned to face you with the kind of expression every child recognized immediately, regardless of age. it was the look that announced a lecture was no longer avoidable.

"breaking the man's store sign, throwing buckets around—" she began, her voice calm in exactly the way that made it dangerous. "why do you have such a temper, y/n?" guess from who.

you stared at her in complete disbelief.

"me? having a temper?" you repeated, almost laughing at the accusation. "he was throwing the bucket at joon-seo. he kept kicking it back toward our restaurant, yelling at everyone like we were the problem. what was i supposed to do? just stand there and applaud?"

you reached for her wrist, trying to loosen her grip, but she simply held on tighter, making you wince.

"that hurts."

"i don't care."

"you should."

"i don't."

you sighed dramatically, mostly because arguing while someone was holding your ear hostage felt oddly undignified.

"mom."

"don't 'mom' me."

"i'm just saying he started it."

"and you finished it by throwing a bucket at him."

"i wasn't aiming for him."

"oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "were you aiming for the store sign you managed to break instead?"

you opened your mouth.

closed it again.

"that part wasn't intentional."

"exactly."

you let out a long breath through your nose, already knowing you had lost this argument several minutes ago but continuing anyway out of pure principle.

"he deserved it."

"whether he deserved it or not isn't the point."

"then what is?"

"the point," your mother replied, finally letting go of your ear only to fold her arms across her chest, "is that you're a grown woman, not a child getting into fights after school. you cannot solve every disagreement by throwing objects."

"i only threw one object."

she stared at you.

"one too much."

you rubbed your sore ear with an exaggerated frown.

"you know, this is a wonderful birthday so far."

"don't try to change the subject."

"i've been working since this morning, dealt with impossible customers all day, almost watched joon-seo start a street fight, and now i'm getting punished in my own home." you sighed. "honestly, i expected cake before the lecture."

"what you should expect," your mother replied without missing a beat, "is your salary getting smaller this month. i'm deducting every cent of the damage from your paycheck."

"fine."

"don't say 'fine' like that."

"what do you want me to say?"

"say you're sorry."

you looked away.

"i'm sorry the bucket was heavier than i thought."

her eyes narrowed.

you couldn't stop yourself.

"and maybe a little aerodynamic."

"y/n."

"okay, okay." you held up both hands in surrender. "that one wasn't my best."

at that exact moment, your father quietly appeared in the doorway carrying the careful expression of a man who had survived decades of marriage by mastering the art of entering arguments as gently as possible.

"honey," he said softly, offering your mother a small smile. "it's her birthday."

your mother's head turned toward him with impressive slowness.

"you be quiet."

your father immediately nodded.

"yes, dear."

he looked over at you with an apologetic smile that somehow managed to communicate i tried without actually saying it.

you looked back at him.

he gave the tiniest shrug imaginable before wisely deciding silence was, in fact, the safest contribution he could make.

closing the door to your room.

the apartment fell quiet for a moment, leaving only the sound of someone washing dishes downstairs and the distant traffic outside. you rubbed your ear again, convinced it would stay red for the next three days, while your mother continued looking at you with the weary expression of someone who couldn't decide whether to scold you more or simply accept that this was the daughter she'd been given.

you, on the other hand, leaned against the wall and looked toward the clock.

what a spectacular birthday.

you had worked overtime, survived what you though was a date, witnessed your brother nearly starting a neighborhood war, thrown a bucket at a seafood restaurant owner, accidentally broken his store sign, been dragged upstairs by your ear and were now lying in bed wondering whether adulthood had always been this humiliating or if today was simply making up for lost time.

outside your room, your parents' voices carried easily through the thin apartment walls.

"i'll make her seaweed soup," your mother said after a long silence.

there was a pause before your father answered, his voice quieter, almost careful, as if he already knew that saying it out loud would only make the guilt sitting between them heavier. "you forgot to cook her seaweed soup today."

another silence followed, longer this time.

"just stop it."

you closed your eyes.

seaweed soup.

great.

because apparently after everything that had happened today, the final thing capable of affecting you was the thought of food. of course it was. apparently your body had decided that emotional damage was not enough and wanted to add hunger into the mix as well.

you couldn't even be properly upset about it because your stomach immediately betrayed you by reminding you that you had barely eaten. after spending the entire day dealing with everyone else's emotions, it seemed almost rude that your own body was now demanding attention. honestly, the timing was impressive.

with an annoyed sigh, you turned away from the noise outside your room and let yourself fall onto your bed. the mattress caught you easily, and for a moment you simply stayed there, staring at the ceiling while the sounds from downstairs slowly faded into the background.

you were outside during your break, standing a little away from the office entrance. for a few minutes, you could just stand there without having to be someone's daughter, someone's friend, someone who always had everything under control, which was apparently a full-time position nobody had bothered to pay you for.

your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling your attention down immediately. 

hospital bill.

you stared at the words for a moment, letting them sit there on the screen while your brain caught up. then you lowered your head slightly.

your mother was, unfortunately, not completely wrong.

that was the annoying part. admitting. 

it would have been much easier if you could simply be angry at them. if you could tell yourself they didn't understand, that they weren't there, that they had no idea how exhausting it had been to keep everything inside for so long while pretending you were perfectly fine. it would have been convenient, almost comforting, to put all the blame somewhere else.

but you knew.

you knew throwing the bucket had been too much. you knew it the second it left your hands.

you just hadn't cared enough in that moment to stop it.

slowly, almost reluctantly, you opened the attachment because ignoring it wouldn't change anything. pretending you hadn't seen it wouldn't erase what happened, and closing your eyes wouldn't magically make the situation disappear, even though a small, completely unrealistic part of you had apparently still hoped life might occasionally work like that.

it didn't.

your body went still as soon as the number appeared.

800,000 won.

you didn't react immediately, not because you didn't understand it, but because your brain needed a second to confirm that something like that was actually allowed to exist in your life. the number sat there on the screen with complete confidence, like it belonged there, like it had every right to casually rearrange your entire month without asking for permission first.

you leaned back against the wall outside the building, the cold surface pressing into your shoulders as you stared at it longer than necessary. your thumb hovered near the screen but didn't move, as if touching it again might somehow make the amount smaller. unfortunately, numbers had never been known for their sympathy. your mind immediately started doing what it always did when things became overwhelming, slipping into calculations before your emotions could fully catch up.

"my tiny monthly pay minus money from my savings, work loan and spending money," you muttered under your breath, quieter now, almost absentmindedly, as if saying it out loud was simply part of the process. the numbers came automatically, stacking themselves together in ways that never felt particularly fair. "i barely have anything left."

it wasn't even surprising anymore, which somehow made it worse.

"where am i going to get 800,000 won?" you said, a little louder than intended.

a couple of people passing by the entrance briefly turned their heads, then quickly decided whatever they had heard was not important enough to investigate.

you straightened immediately, clearing your throat and staring forward like the pavement had suddenly become the most interesting thing in existence.

"hups."

you exhaled through your nose, shoved your phone back into your pocket, and stayed outside for a moment longer than necessary, mostly because going back inside felt like admitting you were supposed to continue the day normally after reading something like that. apparently, adulthood was just receiving life-changing problems during your lunch break and then returning to work like your inbox wasn't waiting for you.

that was when the office door opened behind you.

"you didn't hear this from me, but mr. park got fired," jimin said as he stepped outside quickly, slightly out of breath like he had rushed the last few meters just to deliver the news before anyone else could.

you turned your head slowly.

for a moment, the table didn't react in a coherent way, not because the information wasn't interesting but because it needed time to settle, to shift from rumor into something that actually felt real. sora was the first to fully turn toward him, eyes wide, already leaning in like she had been personally invited into the scandal.

"and how do you even know that?"

jimin didn't even hesitate, as if he had been waiting for that exact question. "maybe i overheard something while walking through the hallways."

"through the hallways," sora repeated slowly, narrowing her eyes. "or while you were conveniently listening at doors again?"

"i prefer to call it environmental awareness."

you let out a quiet breath through your nose, swirling your coffee slightly as you watched them. jimin didn't just spread information, he curated it, shaped it, delivered it with timing that made it impossible to ignore, and somehow everyone still kept giving him more opportunities to do exactly that.

"are you sure you heard that correctly?" you asked, not because you doubted him completely but because with jimin there was always a small possibility that facts had been polished a little before reaching the table.

"he's one of the chairman's men," sora added immediately, lowering her voice slightly as if the title itself carried weight. "how does someone like that even get fired?"

right. people like that didn't simply disappear from the system without something serious behind it. not unless someone above them had decided the risk was no longer worth keeping around.

jimin leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying the fact that he had everyone's attention, but you didn't let him drag out the suspense any longer than necessary.

"why did they fire him?"

he paused just long enough to make it obvious he had planned the timing, then finally leaned in as well, voice dropping slightly.

"apparently he's been accepting bribes from subcontractors."

for a second there was nothing, just a collective stillness as everyone processed it, as if the sentence needed a moment to fully register before anyone could decide how to react. then it broke all at once into overlapping voices, disbelief spilling out in different directions, shock turning into questions that nobody had the answers to yet.

"what?"

"no way."

"are you serious?"

sora covered her mouth slightly, eyes still wide as she tried to make sense of it. when she spoke again, her voice had lowered into something more thoughtful.

"i mean i heard mr. jeon is really strict," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "so maybe those rumors weren't just rumors after all."

the table went a little quieter at that, because there was a strange discomfort in realizing that something everyone had treated as distant gossip might actually have been true. all those warnings, those half-finished stories, those vague comments people made whenever his name came up suddenly felt less like exaggerated office talk and more like pieces of something people had been careful not to say too loudly.

your phone started ringing before the conversation could fully move on.

you reached for it, still half listening to the table as you glanced down, expecting nothing specific, until the name on the screen made your entire focus narrow immediately.

you answered, turning slightly away from the table as the noise of the office and the conversation behind you blurred into the background.

"hi, young-seo," you said.

"you're telling me he bought you a ticket for a concert and told you to go with a guy?"

young-seo stared at you from across the desk, her expression slowly shifting from confusion into complete disbelief. a look people gave when they were waiting for you to admit you were joking because surely there was no way the situation could actually be as ridiculous as it sounded. unfortunately for you, there was no punchline coming. no hidden explanation waiting to make everything suddenly make sense. no moment where you could laugh and admit you had exaggerated.

that was really what happened.

and after a few seconds of processing it, young-seo laughed. sharp, slightly hysterical, and completely unhelpful, making the people around the coffee turn to you.

"i'm sorry," she said, although the fact that she was still smiling made the apology questionable at best. "i'm trying really hard not to laugh."

"you're doing a terrible job."

"i know."

she shook her head, still amused. "but you have to understand how ridiculous this sounds from my perspective. you spent all this time wondering if there was some hidden meaning behind the gift, and then the explanation is that he friendzoned you."

"you're the one who planted that idea in my head," you reminded her. "you were the one who made it sound suspicious."

"because it was suspicious," she argued immediately. "the timing, the effort, the fact that he remembered things about you. i wasn't inventing anything."

"and now?"

she leaned back slightly, thinking about it for a moment. "now i think maybe the mystery isn't that he secretly likes you. maybe the mystery is that he somehow knows you well enough to buy you a gift but not well enough to know you don't like that kind of music."

you gave her a tired look.

"wow."

"what? i'm being realistic."

"you're supposed to comfort me."

"i am comforting you."

"how?"

"by reminding you that even your crush is capable of being confusing."

you opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, her phone rang. cutting through the conversation. one second you were listening to young-seo make fun of your situation, and the next your attention had already moved somewhere else entirely.

your eyes dropped to the screen.

biological father.

the amusement disappeared before you could stop it.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. young-seo's expression softened as she looked from the screen back to your face, not asking what was wrong because the name itself already explained enough. there was something strangely distant about the way you had saved him, almost like you had chosen a label instead of a relationship. not father. not dad. just a description. something factual. something that didn't require feelings attached to it.

"biological father?" you repeated quietly.

she didn't answer. she didn't really need to.

"did you fight with your dad again?"

a small breath left her, almost a laugh but without anything funny behind it.

"when were we ever on good terms?"

her thumb hovered over the screen while the phone continued ringing. it was almost annoying how patient it was, as if it had all the time in the world and she were the one being unreasonable for hesitating.

"why is he calling me at this hour?"

you shrugged.

young-seo was drunk. and, objectively speaking, that was never a good combination. not when it involved anything with her father, social expectations, or any situation that required even the smallest amount of self-control. especially not when said father had apparently decided that the perfect solution to her life was a blind date.

"how could he tell me about a blind date on the day of the blind date?" she shouted, her voice cutting through the street.

you sighed, adjusting your bag as if that could somehow make the situation more stable. it didn't. unfortunately, bags had limits, and apparently so did your ability to keep young-seo from turning every minor inconvenience into a public performance.

"i thought blind dates were off the table," you said, glancing at her as she swayed slightly on the pavement. "considering you performed what can only be described as a small exorcism at your last one."

"you're still getting offers?" she shot back immediately, offended on principle rather than out of actual curiosity.

"i suppose the rumors didn't spread as much as i thought," you replied dryly. "damn it."

she didn't even wait for a proper response after that. she simply turned and started walking down the street like she had personally declared war on the entire concept of parental interference.

"i get wrinkles from overtime and now i'm supposed to go on a blind date?" she muttered, louder than necessary, as if the universe itself was responsible for explaining the unfairness of her situation and not her father.

"isn't it more efficient to just go on a blind date with some ridiculously rich guy and call it a day?" you asked, half serious and half amused by how dramatically she was falling apart in real time.

"no," she snapped immediately, stopping mid-step. "i will never enter an arranged marriage. i will marry for love. with someone i meet by accident. by fate."

"you're so spoiled," you said, not unkindly. "talking about fate like it's a delivery service."

that was enough to make her laugh. a real laugh this time, the kind that briefly made you forget she had been complaining about her entire future five seconds earlier. then, without warning, she grabbed your arms and turned you slightly to face her.

"i'm going to need your help again," she said, her eyes locking onto yours with a seriousness that didn't quite match the alcohol in her system.

"i told you," you answered, already shaking your head before she even finished the thought. "i stopped doing this after i got the job."

"i'll pass."

you tried to step away, but she tightened her grip just enough to make it clear she wasn't finished negotiating.

"this is the last time," she promised, immediately contradicting every known law of friendship and probably several laws of reality. her expression softened into something dangerously convincing, almost innocent if you ignored the chaos that usually followed her innocent expressions.

"can you just act like you're possessed again? just once."

for a moment, the memory surfaced anyway.

the last time.

young-seo sat across from him in the blind date restaurant, except she wasn't really young-seo at all. it was you sitting there, painfully aware of how ridiculous this entire situation was and yet already far too committed to the performance to escape without making everything worse. which, unfortunately, had become a recurring theme in your friendship with her.

your posture was stiff in a way that didn't quite belong to the character you were supposed to be playing, your hands hovering near your face as if you were still deciding whether you were acting or simply slowly losing your mind in real time. meanwhile, the man across from you kept smiling politely, wearing that fragile, hopeful expression people had when they assumed silence meant shyness instead of someone mentally preparing to ruin an entire evening with fake spiritual possession.

"you must be nervous," he said gently, leaning forward slightly. "you haven't said a word since we sat down."

you didn't answer immediately. you let the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable, partly because you needed the dramatic timing and partly because you were still trying to remember exactly how young-seo had acted the last time she made you do this. though, realistically, young-seo herself probably wouldn't remember either, considering she had been drunk enough that night to believe your terrible acting deserved an encore.

slowly, you shook your head.

a little too sharply.

your expression tightened as if something about the all of this was physically bothering you, like the restaurant had suddenly become unbearable for reasons nobody else could detect.

"what's wrong, young-seo?" he asked again, concern beginning to replace his polite smile. "are you okay?"

that was your cue.

and unfortunately for everyone involved, you took it seriously.

you exhaled sharply, your shoulders jerking as you lifted both hands toward your face, swiping at the air in front of you as if something invisible was pressing too close, too invasive, too annoying to tolerate. it wasn't subtle. it was dramatic enough that anyone watching would immediately know you were performing something, but just convincing enough to make him hesitate between laughing and wondering if he should call someone.

"no," you said flatly, lowering your voice into the deepest, most serious tone you could manage.

the man blinked.

before he could properly process what was happening, you leaned forward and grabbed his wrist as he instinctively reached toward you. you pushed him back into his chair just enough to make him freeze, not enough to hurt him, but enough to completely destroy whatever confidence he had entered the restaurant with.

you immediately released him, staring at your own hand like you had just touched something deeply unpleasant. then, because apparently you had already crossed the line and there was no reason not to continue, you lifted your fingers and sniffed them with exaggerated suspicion.

"let go," you muttered under your breath, still refusing to look directly at him.

"what?" he started.

but you were already standing.

your movements became slower and more deliberate as you reached into your bag and pulled out a small pouch of salt, along with a few other completely unnecessary items that probably raised more questions than they answered. the moment you started scattering salt across the table, his expression shifted from confusion to genuine concern.

because apparently there was a point where a strange date became a spiritual emergency, and you had somehow managed to find it.

"do you have any idea who you are addressing?" you asked, your voice steady now, almost frighteningly serious. "you are sitting in the presence of the noble host of the spirit of the great general."

he stared at you.

"what spirit?" he repeated slowly, like hearing the words out loud might somehow make them logical. "what are you talking about?"

you didn't stop.

salt continued to fall in uneven circles across the table as you moved around it, your face completely serious. that was probably the part that made the whole thing worse. if you had laughed, if you had broken character even once, it would have been obvious. but you didn't, because apparently once you committed to a terrible idea, you committed fully.

"what have you done," you continued, your voice lowering slightly, "to make something like that attach itself to you?"

he leaned back now, hands hovering helplessly in front of him.

"i haven't done anything," he said quickly. "this is a blind date. what is happening right now?"

you ignored him completely.

instead, you tilted your head slightly, staring past him as if you were seeing something he couldn't. your expression sharpened.

"something vengeful," you whispered, "has followed you."

his face slowly lost color and then you stopped.

your head turned. toward the left corner of the restaurant. where a girl, which he didn't know was the real young-seo, in a white dress stood completely still, long hair covering her face, silent and perfectly positioned like she had been waiting for this exact moment. 

the blind date followed your gaze.

his voice came out thin. almost fragile. "am i the only one who can see the ghost?"

for a second, everything went completely silent.

then his chair scraped against the floor as his body went rigid, his eyes widening in absolute disbelief. before he could ask another question, he collapsed backward into the chair with a dull thud, completely unconscious.

against your better judgment, a small laugh escaped you.

"that's what i'm talking about," she said instantly, triumphant, like she had just won an argument nobody had actually agreed to have in the first place. we both laughed a little then,

"can you help me out again? please?" she tried once more, softer this time.

"no," i said, still smiling, still refusing.

"come on, my acting won't get me so far. help me."

she didn't let go of the idea that easily. young-seo never did, especially not when alcohol had already settled comfortably into her system and convinced her that every impossible request was simply a negotiation waiting for the right offer. with her, "no" was rarely the end of a conversation. it was more like the opening statement, the part where she gathered information, adjusted her strategy, and prepared to wear you down until either your patience disappeared or she somehow made the situation sound reasonable.

which, unfortunately, she was surprisingly good at.

"no."

"i'll pay you."

you paused not because you were interested. just because refusing to hear the offer would have been unnecessarily dramatic, and apparently one person in this friendship had to maintain some level of professionalism.

"i'm listening," i admitted.

"i'll pay you a generous amount."

"i'm still listening."

"the bag you wanted. it's yours."

"continue."

"two months of soju. no, three."

"no," you said immediately, flat and practiced, already tired of the conversation before it had even properly restarted.

"no, listen," she argued, pulling you slightly closer like the physical distance between you was the only thing preventing you from understanding. "you're not seeing the bigger picture. this isn't just a blind date. this is a social rescue mission. for me. for my future. for my dignity." way to overreact. 

"no," you repeated, slower this time, as if maybe the issue was that she hadn't heard the word clearly enough.

she stared at you for a moment.

"okay, you really only have one response now, don't you?"

you ignored that because acknowledging it would only encourage her.

young-seo sighed, tilting her head back for a second as if she was asking the universe for better arguments. apparently even fate was struggling with her at this point, which was understandable. dealing with young-seo required a certain level of patience that most higher powers probably weren't prepared to provide.

"okay, but think about it properly," she continued, hands moving in wide, uncoordinated gestures. "you come, you sit, you act normal, maybe a little mysterious, maybe a little possessed again if necessary, and then i survive the evening. everyone wins."

"no."

by now, the word had almost become a routine between you. less a refusal and more background noise to her ongoing campaign.

there was a pause where she simply stared at you, processing the fact that your vocabulary had apparently reduced itself to one syllable.

"you're not even considering it," she accused, pointing at you like you were personally responsible for the collapse of her entire plan.

"i considered it. i rejected it," you replied calmly.

she stepped closer again, lowering her voice as if making the request quieter would somehow make it more reasonable.

"i'll add more soju."

"no."

"and snacks."

"no."

"fine," she said quickly, immediately changing direction like the previous attempts had only been warm-up rounds. "then don't think of it as a blind date. think of it as emotional support. you're just sitting there. existing. silently judging people. you're already good at that."

"no," you said, although it sounded convincing.

she grabbed your sleeve again, gently this time, but with the unmistakable desperation of someone who had already imagined the entire plan and simply needed you to catch up.

"please. just this once. you're my best friend. please. i swear i won't ask again. i swear on my father's questionable life choices."

"no," you repeated, though there was the faintest hesitation underneath it now, buried somewhere between resignation and the unfortunate realization that you had known young-seo long enough to recognize the exact moment she stopped asking and started emotionally blackmailing.

she leaned in, eyes narrowing as she searched for another weakness.

"i'll tell everyone you're my emotional bodyguard."

"no."

"i'll say you saved me from a tragic arranged marriage fate."

"no."

"i'll—"

"no," you interrupted, but this time you were already looking away, which was unfortunate because your refusal was starting to argue with itself.

young-seo noticed, of course.

her expression shifted, the teasing disappearing for just a second as she switched tactics completely. it was almost unfair how quickly she could move from dramatic nonsense to something genuine, like she had been saving the honest part as her final weapon the entire time.

"i really need you," she said quietly.

and there it was.

the unfair part.

not the ridiculous offers, not the exaggerated speeches, not the promises that she definitely would not ask again despite both of you knowing she probably would. it was the simple sincerity underneath all of it that made refusing harder than it should have been.

"just be there," she continued. "i can't do this alone."

the street suddenly felt quieter.

you looked at her for a moment, weighing every possible version of how this evening could go wrong, and unfortunately there were many. enough possibilities to make you wonder whether agreeing was actually less exhausting than continuing the argument.

you exhaled through your nose, already tired of a night that hadn't even started yet.

"no," you said finally.

but it didn't sound as convincing as before.

and young-seo, smiled like she had just heard exactly what she needed to hear. 

god you were the best friend on earth.

and somehow, against every reasonable instinct you had and whatever part of your brain was still capable of refusing young-seo, you ended up standing in the middle of a luxury store. a luxury store that looked like it had been designed for people who considered normal prices a personal insult. everything about the place was almost suspiciously perfect, from the carefully arranged displays to the employees who somehow managed to look elegant while doing absolutely nothing more than standing there. even the lighting seemed expensive, which felt unnecessary. the mirrors were spotless, the floors were polished enough to make you question whether anyone was actually allowed to walk on them,

the entire store seemed to quietly suggest one thing: spend an unreasonable amount of money on a dress.

normally, you would have walked straight past a place like this. not because the clothes weren't beautiful, because they were, but because you still had an absurdly overpriced hospital bill waiting for you to pay. the more you thought about it, the less sense it made. what exactly had they done during those few days to that man? had they given him some kind of luxury treatment package? you were sure that he willingly stayed in the hospital's presidential suite. because you were paying.

but thankfully, none of that was your problem. at least  for now.

young-seo had insisted on paying because apparently this shopping trip was part of the bribe. and honestly, you weren't exactly going to fight her on it when she was the one reaching for her card. there were many situations where you could proudly stand your ground, but rejecting free designer clothes from someone who was determined to buy them for you to wear them on a blind date. hello? yes.

"hello!"

young-seo's cheerful voice echoed through the quiet boutique as she stepped inside, clapping her hands together once with the enthusiasm of someone entering an amusement park instead of an expensive clothing store.

one of the sales associates looked over, politely smiling.

"we're going for a tough-girl concept for marine beauty's new product line," young-seo announced as she walked further inside, already scanning the racks. "and while we're here, we're also finding the outfit you'll wear for your blind date."

you blinked.

"those sound like two completely different objectives."

young-seo didn't even hesitate.

"they're actually the same objective."

"how?"

"branding."

you stared at her.

"i'm a person."

"exactly."

somehow, that was her explanation.

and somehow, she seemed satisfied with it.

young-seo had already disappeared between two racks, humming quietly to herself while pulling out dresses like she had been preparing for this moment her entire life.

you followed more cautiously, still resisting the urge to look at the price tags. not because you intended to buy anything yourself, but because you valued your ability to remain calm. there was no reason to emotionally damage yourself by discovering how much a single piece of fabric cost.

the first dress she picked was black with delicate lace sleeves.

young-seo held it against you, stepped back, tilted her head, and studied the result with the seriousness of someone making an important decision.

"this."

you looked at the dress. then at her.

"lace?"

"yes."

"and your argument is?"

"people underestimate lace."

you stared at her.

"i think you're overestimating lace."

young-seo looked genuinely unconvinced.

"that's because you're thinking like prey."

"prey?"

she nodded.

"predators understand these things."

you looked around the store for a moment, almost expecting someone else to step in and confirm that this conversation had become unreasonable.

"young-seo."

"yes?"

"we're picking an outfit, be serious."

instead, she calmly returned the lace dress and reached for something else.

a few seconds later, she lifted a thick leather belt with the confidence of someone who had just discovered the missing piece of a complicated puzzle.

"this."

you took it, held it against yourself in front of the mirror, and, unfortunately, had to admit that it worked better than the lace.

"okay," you turned slightly. "this actually looks tough."

young-seo immediately smiled.

"see?"

she folded her arms proudly.

"you're already halfway there."

"halfway where?"

"emotionally unavailable for the blind date."

you sighed. what have i gotten myself into.

the next half hour quickly was stressful. every time you stepped out of the fitting room, young-seo looked at you with the concentration of someone judging a competition,

a dress was rejected because it made you look too soft. another was dismissed because it gave off the impression that you were too easy to approach. in on ahe called you "you look like a fox."

"like a fox?" you repeated, staring at her through the mirror.

young-seo nodded as if she had just pointed out an obvious flaw.

"yes like a cute fox."

you did a fox like sound. young-seo looked at you. "stop it."

this time, when she returned, you immediately became suspicious.

the outfit in her hands was noticeably smaller than the others.

you looked at it.

then at her.

"there's a concerning amount of missing fabric."

"it's fashion."

"that's usually what people say right before making questionable choices."

young-seo simply handed it to you. "try it."

you didn't move.

"you're enjoying this."

she placed a hand over her chest, looking personally offended. "i can't believe you would accuse me of something like that."

"because it's true."

there was a brief pause before she finally admitted, "maybe a little."

at least she had enough honesty left to acknowledge it.

you changed anyway, mostly because at this point you wanted to know how far she was willing to take this experiment. the answer became clear the moment you stepped out and immediately crossed your arms against the cold.

"i'm freezing."

young-seo didn't look at you first.

she looked at the outfit.

"you look crazy that's good."

you frowned. "thank you?"

by this point, even the sales associate had probably figured out what was happening. she had watched young-seo reject enough perfectly normal dresses that the process had stopped looking like shopping and started looking like a very specific investigation into how many ways a person could accidentally appear too pleasant.

"try this one," young-seo said.

this time, you didn't argue.

when you stepped out of the fitting room, you immediately knew something was different.

the dress wasn't too much. it didn't look like you were trying too hard to prove a point. it wasn't covered in unnecessary details or designed to make you seem impossible to approach.

it was simple.

black.

elegant.

and somehow, exactly the right amount of intimidating.

young-seo didn't say anything at first.

you looked at her through the mirror.

"well?"

she tilted her head slightly, studying the result.

for once, there was no immediate criticism.

no list of problems.

no explanation involving predators, emotional risks, or strategic distance.

just a slow nod.

"that's it."

you looked down at yourself.

"really?"

"really."

you turned slightly in front of the mirror.

"i don't look too nice?"

"no you look perfect."

you looked at your reflection one more time.

"for sabotaging the date?"

"for making sure that there won't be a second date."

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[minyoongiss]

ONLY MINE | kim taehyung

you shouldn't have tried to make him jealous. or maybe you did the right thing.

pairing: idol!kim taehyung x you/reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: 18+, pure filth.

authors note: first post ever and it’s smut. didn’t proofread it

“will you ever try to make me jealous again?” taehyung whispered in your ear as he thrusted in you from behind. hard and fast, your hands pressed against the cold window of the hotel. the coldness cooling down your hot body. your check was pressed against the hard surface of the window, a fogy layer already creating on it because of your hectic breathing.

you couldn’t answer, all your thoughts, all possible sentences you could form, were gone the moment he entered your needing wet hole. and god did you love it.

your sounds echoed off the walls, not even trying to hide your voices anymore. not caring if anyone could here you. not caring if they heard, how good taehyung was fucking you.

he pressed your front firmly, insistently and harder against the cold glass, but not too hard. it was just enough pressure, like he knew how you liked aftr all this time. he always knew what you liked. how you liked it.

his arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, grounding you and pulling you against him until you had barely enough room to think—let alone move. each time, he pushed in and out of you. every time, your body tilted forward completely, because you could no longer hold yourself, he would pull you back against him. not caring about all the cries and whimpers coming out of your mouth. “i’m sorry,” you subbed. but were you really sorry?

the way he pressed his hand on your lower abdomen, whenever he rammed his cock into your cervix with full force, made you feel it more intensely. "can you feel it? how deep i’m inside you?" as if he was trying to prove something, he went deeper than you thought was ever possible. his thrust brutal and deep, his cock dragging against your walls like he was trying to stamp himself in your body. as if he wanted to make sure that you would even feel him days after this. no, so that you could never forget him.

"do you really think that jimin could ever fuck you the way i do? do you think he could even make you come?" his hand, which had been pressed against your abdomen, found its way to your clit. two fingers rubbing it in a sloppy way.

you moaned as you buried your head into the pit of his shoulder. “tae-taehyung don't stop,” you screamed, holding on to the window with your arms, to his biceps, which had grown twice as much since he returned from the military, to something, anything, you could hold yourself onto. you could still remember exactly when he'd sent you a topless picture without any context. a shirtless picture of him after training in the military. and the only thing you could see was, how big he got. so big and bulky. looking so sexy, so manly that the first thing you did when you went home was, make yourself come with your fingers to the sight of this picture. making a mess on your bedsheets.

"i asked you a question baby. answer me," he gasped breathlessly against your ear, his voice low and raspy. he started kissing down your neck slowly, leaving light bites, desperate to mark you. to mark you as his. “tae not.” were the only words you could get out, way to fucked up. you agreed when you started this ‘relationship’ that you would leave no marks. no hickeys, no nail marks on his back. nothing. because how was a world-famous idol going to explain to his make-up artist where all the marks on his neck came from?

"should i send him a video of me fucking your tight pussy. what do you say?” you knew exactly who he meant. “maybe then he will stop flirting with you.”

he chuckled.

“or better i'll call him over and show him how much of a cockslut you are for me,” he swivelled against your ear, licking where he'd marked you. you convulsed around him. a needy moan escaping your lips. at this point he was just desperate. desperate to get a response from you. desperate for any kind of reaction. you knew why he was doing this, you knew what he wanted, why he pushed you, and yet, you flirted with jimin. looking deep in his eyes, smiling devilishly. and that was all it took for him to explode. and maybe he knew why you did it too.

“you like that? the thought of jimin seeing how i’m fucking you? fucking your needy pussy for months,” he moaned as he abused your cunt. taehyung slowed his pace, only so he can penetrate you harder. each slap that connected with your skin elicited a pornographic moan from your throat. you felt his balls slapping harshly against your ass, and how his body pressed you against the cool surface of the window. his fingers still rubbing and pinching your clitoris, making you cry out.

“tae please.” you didn't know what you were begging for. were you begging for him? or for the thought of him filming you both? how he was fucking you hard and mercilessly? how he fucked you, a mere employee of HYBE? maybe that was the reason why the whole thing had started between you in the first place. why you were on your knees with taehyung's cock in your mouth in the first week of you working there. blowing him like it was about winning the gold madeille. or maybe the fact that the whole thing was secretly giving you the kink. the thought that something could come out at any moment, someone seeing you, someone reporting you. that this was your dirty little secret.

“no matter how hard you try to make me jealous,” each of his thrusts deepened with the roll of his hips. “you're mine. say you're mine. only mine.” you moaned loudly. your breaths becoming shorter, chest rosing rose and felling quickly. his finger let go of your clit and found your neck.

with each thrust he hit your sweet spot inside o you, the pressure intensifying until you thought you might break. your eyes watered, not from pain, but from the intensity of the lust that built up and threatens to swallow you whole. you could feel his muscles tensing, his body on the verge of its own release.

you nod, “yes-yes i'm yours. only yours,” your voice turned into a high-pitched whimper before you finally came. you came undo on his throbbing cock. still as he kissed your g-spot with his tip. for a moment you thought you could see stars, mound dropped no sound coming out. only hearing the pounding of your racing heart in your ears. no, you really were seeing the stars. taehyung really outdid himself. “fuck. fuck. fuck.” taehyung fucked you through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release. his fingers clasped your neck harder, the pain of your high coursing through you, riding out your high.

he pulled your head to his neck and greedily pressed his lips to yours in a messy, teeth clashing kiss. the angle was uncomfortable, especially since your neck was stretched in a painful way. but you didn’t care. it felt good. way too good. you gasped pain-filled into his mouth, taehyung seizing the opportunity to push his tongue slopply into your mouth.

“gonna fill you up. gonna mark this pussy,” he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “gonna pump you so fucking full of me, that it‘ll be dripping out of your cunt for days.” his voice sending another shiver through you, making your oversensitive clench around his cock. and then he buried himself deep with an animalistic moan, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you, colouring your inner walls white. not stopping until you felt the mixture of his and your come dripping down your thighs.

soft moans and the sharp hiss of breath were the only sounds in the room. no other sound could be heard for a couple of seconds.

taehyung pulled himself slowly out of you. you whimpered at the loss of the feeling of fullness. then he bend his head down to your ear. “only mine,” he said as pushed the mess leaking out of your cunt back in it.

maybe you should make him jealous more often.

[minyoongiss]

1.000 likes?? you guys are insane. this was literally just a random drabble i wrote in one hour after watching (quite a few) edits of taehyung.

[minyoongiss]

BUSINESS PROPOSAL | jeon jungkook | series masterlist

you were supposed to sabotage your best friend's blind date. make him lose interest. scare him off a little, maybe accidentally insult his ego enough that he'd go home and tell his parents there had been "no chemistry." you were absolutely not supposed to make him want to marry her. or technically you in her form.

pairing: ceo!jeon jungkook x you/reader

warnings: none

word count: tbd

authors note: after rewatching business propsal for the hundred time i had a little idea about a series. of course with jungkook as the ceo? (hello??) this will most likely be published when i’m nearly done with maybe. (hopefully soon..)

and also new theme. do we like it?? i’m not the best in making/editing covers so bare with me. :/

introduction: how to accidentally tease you guys with a sneak peak. - publish date: 30. May

one: how to accidentally be the best friend ever. - publish date: 12. july 12 am cet/cest

summary: when your best friend comes to you asking for a favor, always say no. especially when that favor somehow involves a blind date, identity fraud, and pretending to be her in front of a man neither of you have ever met before.

two: how to accidentally ruin a blind date - publish date: tbd

summary: when you’re on a date pretending to be your best friend, the goal is simple: sabotage it. ruin the vibe. make it awkward enough that he starts questioning his entire life choices. what you are not supposed to do is accidentally sit across from your boss halfway through dessert.

three: how to accidentally not reveal your real identitiy - publish date: tbd

summary: when you suddenly receive a sms from your blind date while literally sitting next to your boss, well your blind date, don’t panic. that’s what bathrooms are for.

four: how to accidentally date your boss (as someone else?) - publish date: tbd

summary: when he offers to drop you off at home after the fourth date, get out of the car early. or risk him finding out where you live. or worse realizing who you actually are.

five: how to accidentally get a happy ending - publish date: tbd

summary: when he finds out who you really are, don’t scramble for excuses, just tell him the truth. no damage control, no clever lies, no last-minute improvising. simple. or not?

taglist: open! if you want to be tagged for updates, let me know in the comments.

[minyoongiss]

first chapter publish date updated.

[minyoongiss]

MAYBE 16 | min yoongi

falling in love with your best friend was never on your bucket list, never tucked anywhere among the things you hoped to accomplish in your life, especially not when he suddenly started talking about a girl. or in which you learn just how deeply the thought of a maybe could hurt.

pairing: nonidol!min yoongi x you/reader

warning: resolved feelings, angst, heartbreak

word count: 4.6k

authors note: this was probably the hardest chapter i have ever writen for maybe. i literally started this hapter over four or five times because it didn't meet up my expectations. somehow finished it, but whether i like it or not it's another question.

if you want to be tagged in further dabbles/chapters let me know in the comments.

series masterlist | previous part | next part

05. april 2021

“how are you?” was perhaps the most normal question in the world. something people said without thinking, something that filled small gaps in conversation the way silence was never allowed to. and yet it was a question you never seemed able to answer in any way that felt honest.

because how were you supposed to explain how you were doing when you had lost your best friend? how were you supposed to take something that large, something that had reshaped the entire structure of your days and compress it into a sentence small enough for other people to understand? grief didn't fit into language in the way people expected it to. it didn't come out clean or linear or understandable. it came out fractured and even then it never really left you the same way twice.

how could you tell someone that every morning still felt wrong in a way you couldn't adjust to, because there was no message waiting for you anymore? how could you explain that months had passed and your body still hadn't accepted it, that your thumb still moved out of habit sometimes, hovering over old conversations before your mind caught up and pulled you back into reality again? that there were moments where you would sit there longer than you meant to, staring at a screen that hadn't changed in weeks, as if repetition could somehow undo absence, as if looking long enough might eventually turn silence back into response?

and how could you explain what hurt the most, when it wasn't even one single thing but the accumulation of everything small that no longer existed? the absence of ordinary things that used to happen without effort, the way familiarity had once lived so naturally between you and now felt like something you had to grieve in pieces you didn't have names for. it wasn't just missing him in a loud, obvious way. it was missing the way your life had moved around him without you realizing he was part of the structure holding it up.

that losing yoongi probably wasn't the worst part.

it wasn't that you never got to say goodbye before he walked through that door for the last time, and it wasn't waking up every morning to silence where his messages used to be, or realizing that evenings, the ones that had once belonged to both of you, had quietly turned into something you had to survive alone. those things hurt, of course they did.

the worst part was learning how to exist without him. learning how to move through days that no longer carried traces of him in them, how to fill a space that refused to be filled, how to carry the emptiness he left behind when he walked away. because it wasn't just emptiness, it was something endless, something that settled deep inside your chest and slowly pulled you apart from the inside out.

losing yoongi wasn't only losing your best friend.

it was losing home. losing the person your heart had memorized. losing the place you returned to without ever needing directions.

and maybe the cruelest part was how ironic it all felt, because even after all those months, some part of you still woke up expecting him. every morning your eyes drifted to your phone before your mind could catch up, still hoping for a message that never came.

sad or naive?

shouldn't it have become easier by now? hadn't enough time passed already? shouldn't the emptiness inside your chest have softened around the edges instead of still hurting? weren't you supposed to keep living, to keep moving, the way he probably did?

sad or naive?

maybe grief makes those two things impossible to tell apart.

because the truth was, you did keep living. you got out of bed, answered messages, laughed when people expected you to, filled your days with enough noise to make it seem like you had moved on. from the outside, it probably looked exactly like healing. but grief was cruel like that, it taught you how to perform being okay long before you actually were.

some days were easier. some days you could go hours without thinking about him and almost convince yourself that the ache had finally begun fading. and then something small would ruin it all: a song he would've liked, an old picture buried too deep in your camera roll, seeing something funny and still instinctively reaching for your phone before remembering there was no one waiting on the other side anymore.

you used to think losing someone happened once. in one moment. one goodbye. one closed door.

but losing yoongi happened over and over again.

you lost him in the mornings when there was nothing to wake up to. in quiet evenings that stretched too long. in every song you heard because your knew he would like the beat.

and still, after all this time, there were nights where you wondered if he ever thought about you too. if your name ever crossed his mind in the middle of something ordinary. if leaving had been easier for him than staying behind had been for you.

you had never answered.

because what were you supposed to say when the others asked you? 

that you missed him? that you still thought about him every day? that your best friend was gone and you still didn't know how to exist in a world where he wasn't part of it?

no one wanted that answer.

so instead, you lied.

and somehow jimin always seemed to know.

every afternoon, when you got home from work and the day began to grow quiet again, he would show up at your apartment. sometimes with food, sometimes with coffee, sometimes with absolutely no reason at all except the fact that he wanted to make sure you weren't alone.

and every single time, you gave him a different version of the same lie.

“i'm good.”

“i'm doing better.”

“i'm feeling way better now.”

“today was okay.”

you never expected him to believe you and maybe he never did. because despite every excuse, despite every forced smile and every attempt to convince him that things were improving, he kept coming back the next day.

and the day after that. 

and the day after that.

as though he quietly decided that if you were going to carry all of this alone, he was at least going to sit beside you while you did.

you told him more than once that he didn't have to keep doing it. you said it softly, carefully, like you were trying not to bruise whatever part of him made him stay. and every time, he only looked at you for a moment too long before answering the same way, as if the question itself never really changed anything.

“i know.”

“then why do you keep coming?” you asked without looking at him, because it had always been easier that way, easier to pretend you didn't notice what your words did to him when they landed.

he was standing by your kitchen counter, unpacking something you hadn't even realized he brought with him. he paused for a second, like he already heard the question before it was ever spoken.

“because if i don't,” he said quietly, “you won't eat. and if you don't eat, you'll sit here and tell yourself that's just how it is now.”

you tried to laughing, but it hadn't come out right. “that's not fair.”

he looked at you properly at that, not with anger, not with judgment, but with something worn down and steady, something that felt more like care than anything else you had known in a long time.

“neither is what you're doing to yourself.”

on week three it had gotten worse before it got better, although at the time you would have laughed if someone had suggested it was ever going to get better at all. every day seemed to bleed into the next until you stopped paying attention to where one ended and another began. grief had stopped feeling sharp by then. it wasn't the kind of pain that knocked the air from your lungs anymore. it was heavier than that, quieter than that. it had settled into every part of your life so completely that you could barely remember what it felt like to exist without it.

most days you sat in the same place for hours without realizing how much time had passed. it wasn't that you were thinking about anything in particular. if anything, your thoughts felt distant too, blurred around the edges like everything else. sometimes you would stare at the wall or the floor or the ceiling and suddenly notice that an entire afternoon had vanished. you weren't sleeping enough, but you weren't fully awake either. it felt as though your life had moved several feet away from you and you no longer had the energy to follow it.

that was how he found you one morning, sitting on the floor beside your bed with your knees pulled tightly against your chest. weak sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting pale strips of light across the carpet, but the room felt colorless anyway. you had been staring at the same spot for so long that you almost didn't register the sound of the door opening. even when you heard his footsteps, you didn't look up.

he didn't say anything at first. he simply crossed the room and lowered himself onto the floor beside you. not close enough to make you feel trapped, but not so far away that it felt like he wasn't really there. over the last few weeks he had somehow learned that distance instinctively, as if he understood exactly how much space you needed.

for a while neither of you spoke.

eventually he glanced toward you and asked, “did you sleep?”

the question felt strangely complicated. you searched for an answer and found nothing. maybe you had slept. maybe you had spent hours staring into the dark. maybe it had been both.

you shrugged.

his gaze lingered on you for a moment before he looked away again.

“that's not really an answer.”

there was no frustration in his voice. if anything, it was as though he had already expected that response before asking.

you swallowed and rested your forehead against your knees.

“i don't remember.”

for some reason, saying it out loud made something tighten painfully in your chest. admitting that you couldn't remember such a simple thing felt like admitting there were pieces of yourself slipping away that you no longer knew how to hold onto.

he nodded slowly.

“okay.”

that was all.

no lecture. no concern disguised as criticism. no attempt to make you feel guilty for it.

just okay.

a little while later he disappeared from the room and returned carrying food, setting it carefully on the floor between you. neither of you touched it. it remained there untouched while the minutes passed, growing colder with every second. somehow that made it feel even sadder. the food sat there as proof that the morning was continuing, that breakfast had arrived, that time was still moving forward regardless of whether you participated in it.

you stared at it for a long time before finally speaking.

“you know i'm probably not going to eat that.”

he glanced down at the plate.

“probably not.”

“then why bring it?”

a small shrug lifted one of his shoulders.

“because maybe you will.”

you let out a weak laugh that sounded hollow even to your own ears.

“you're stubborn.”

“i've been told that.”

for a brief moment the corner of his mouth twitched upward and the expression was so normal that it almost hurt to look at.

eventually your eyes drifted back toward the floor.

“you don't have to keep doing this.” your voice came out quieter than you intended.

he didn't answer immediately.

you continued before you could lose your nerve.

“you don't have to keep coming here. you don't have to keep checking on me.”

when he finally spoke, his voice was calm. “i know.”

the answer stung more than you expected, because he really did know.

he wasn't here because he had to be. there was no obligation keeping him in this room. no responsibility forcing him to sit on the floor beside someone who barely spoke anymore. he could leave whenever he wanted.

for a few moments you stared at your hands

“then why?”

the question escaped before you could stop it.

your throat tightened.

“why are you still here?”

this time the silence lasted longer.

when you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

there was no pity in his expression. no frustration. no sign that he was waiting for you to become easier to be around.

“because i want to be.”

on week six, it felt like you finally understood what he had meant.

not because things had suddenly become easier. not because the grief had disappeared or because mornings had stopped hurting or because you had finally learned how to exist without looking for yoongi who wasn't there anymore. if anything, there were still days when the loss felt so fresh it embarrassed you, days when you woke up and for a few fragile seconds forgot what reality was, only for it to come crashing back into you with the same merciless force it always had. those moments never became easier. the shock never truly left. it only learned how to arrive more quietly.

“does it ever stop?” you had asked one evening.

you were staring at the floor when you asked it, because somehow it felt easier than looking at him. easier than letting him see how desperately you wanted the answer to be yes.

after a long pause, he answered honestly.

“no.”

the word settled between you with a weight that made your chest ache.

you remembered looking away immediately. remembered the disappointment that spread through you before you could stop it. because despite everything, despite all the months of hurting, despite every sleepless night and every morning spent trying to convince yourself to get out of bed, there was still a small part of you that had hoped there would be an ending. some final point where grief would release its grip and allow you to become the person you had been before.

but that person was gone too.

you knew that.

some losses take more than people.

they take versions of you with them and maybe that was the part nobody talked about enough.

because you weren't only mourning someone else's absence anymore. you were mourning the person you had been before you learned how permanent loss could be.

then, more quietly, as if he could see exactly where the answer landed inside you, he said

“but it changes.”

you remembered sitting there in silence, your eyes fixed on some random spot on the carpet because if you looked at him you thought you might cry.

“you don't believe me,” he said eventually.

you laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it.

“i don't know how to.”

for a moment neither of you spoke. the rain filled the silence instead.

then he leaned back slightly against the couch.

“when it first happens,” he said carefully, “it feels like grief is the only thing left.”

his voice was soft, almost distant.

like he wasn't just talking about you anymore.

“it gets into everything. every room. every memory. every song. you wake up thinking about it and you fall asleep thinking about it. it becomes the first thing you feel in the morning and the last thing you feel at night.”

your throat tightened.

because he was right.

there had been a time when the loss followed you everywhere so relentlessly that you couldn't remember what it felt like to exist separately from it. every happy memory became painful because it reminded you yoongi. of what was gone. every quiet moment became unbearable because there was nothing left to distract you. even happiness felt wrong somehow, because every good thing immediately carried the reminder that there was someone missing who should have been there to see it.

you had spent so long drowning in that feeling that you stopped imagining life without it.

on week nine, it got even worse.

you stopped answering properly. stopped replying. stopped pretending you were okay in even the smallest ways.

so when jimin let himself in, he found you on the couch again, curled under a blanket even though you were not asleep, like you were trying to disappear into something softer than reality.

“you didn't open the door,” he said.

“it was unlocked,” you answered weakly, like it didn't matter.

“that's not the point.”

you didn't respond.

he sat down beside you more slowly than usual, like he was afraid of what he might find if he moved too fast.

“did you eat today?” he asked after a moment.

there was a long pause.

then, barely audible: “i don't know.”

his jaw tightens for a second, but his voice stayed steady. “that's not a good answer.”

you let out a small, broken laugh that didn't sound like humor at all. “you always say that.”

“because it's always true.”

silence returned, heavier now, pressing in from all sides.

then your voice broke it, quieter than everything before it. “i don't want to be alone with it.”

something in his expression shifted, something almost painful.

“then don't be,” he said simply. “i'm here.”

one week eleven later, you couldn't stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. your chest suddenly felling too full to keep everything inside anymore. for a while you had been staring at nothing.

thinking about nothing.

and then, somehow, thinking about him.

the way you always did.

because even after eleven weeks, even after all the conversations and all the sleepless nights and all the mornings spent forcing yourself out of bed, his absence still found ways to appear when you least expected it. sometimes it arrived as a memory. sometimes as a feeling. sometimes as a sharp ache that settled behind your ribs without warning.

and sometimes it arrived as hope.

the cruel kind. the impossible kind. the kind that still whispered maybe.

before you could stop yourself, the words were already leaving your mouth.

“i wanted to call him,” you said, “just to see how he was doing. but you can't do that. you can't talk to someone who held your heart in their palm and pretend it never happened.” your voice sounded small in the quiet room. fragile. almost embarrassed. as though admitting it after all this time was some kind of failure.

“i wanted to ask why it was so hard to get over him. i wanted to know if he ever felt lonely when he listened to music, or if things reminded him of the memories we made.”

jimin looked up from where he was sitting across from you.

he didn't interrupt. he simply listened.

you swallowed hard and looked down at your hands.

“i wanted to say that i couldn't remember the sound of him saying my name anymore. that i couldn't even remember his voice anymore. that i missed his voice.”

your fingers twisted together.

“i know i shouldn't, but i wanted to.”

the confession made your throat tighten.

“that's stupid, isn't it?” the question came out softer than you intended.

“thinking like that.”

his eyes immediately softened.

“no.”

you laughed bitterly.

“it is.”

he shook his head.

“it's human.”

something about that answer made your chest ache.

because he said it so simply.

as though it didn't require justification. as though there was nothing wrong with you for still searching for someone you had already lost.

you looked away quickly.

your eyes burned.

“sometimes i still expect him to walk through the door.”

your voice cracked slightly.

“and for a second i actually believe it.”

the confession hung heavily between you.

you hated admitting it. hated how desperate it sounded.

“i'll hear a sound and think it's him,” you swallowed, “or i'll remember something funny and my first thought is that i should tell him.”

your breathing became uneven.

“and then i remember.”

jimin lowered his gaze for a moment.

when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “i think that's because you spent so long expecting him to be there.”

you looked at him.

he continued slowly.

“you built your life around his presence.”

his eyes met yours again.

“your brain doesn't just stop doing that overnight.”

the tears gathering in your eyes finally spilled over.

“i hate it.”

the words came out broken.

“i hate that part of me still hopes.”

jimin's expression tightened slightly. not because he disagreed. because he understood.

for a moment he said nothing.

“i don't think it's hope”

you frowned.

“what?”

his voice remained soft. “not really.”

the room grew quiet again.

“then what is it?”

he thought for a moment.

and when he answered, his voice sounded sadder than before.

“i think it's love that hasn't figured out where to go.”

the tears came harder after that.

on week fourteen it was late when he found you outside.

you didn't even notice him at first. you were just sitting on the cold steps in front of the building, knees pulled up, staring at nothing like the night has already taken everything else away.

“you're going to freeze out here,” jimin said.

your head turned slightly, slow. like it took effort just to process that someone was talking to you.

“i didn't ask you to come,” you replied.

he sat down anyway.

not beside you right away. just one step lower, like he was trying not to overwhelm the space you've already closed off.

“you never do,” he said.

that made you huff something that wasn't quite a laugh. “then why do you keep showing up?"

he looked forward, not at you. “because you stopped answering.”

silence.

you pulled your jacket tighter. “i'm fine.”

he finally looked at you at that. and something in his face changes, not surprised, not angry just tired in a way that understands too much.

“no,” he said quietly. “you're not.”

you wanted to argue. you always did. but your voice didn't come out fast enough.

so instead you whispered, “it doesn't matter anyway.”

jimin shook his head slightly. “that's the thing you always say when it matters too much.”

that hit harder than it should.

you looked away.

“i can't keep doing this,” you admitted after a while, quieter than everything before it.

he doesn't interrupt.

you swallowed. “waking up and pretending it's okay. acting like i'm still me.”

your voice broke on the last word, but you didn’t stop.

“because i'm not.”

jimin exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was holding something heavy inside him too.

“you don't have to be the same person,” he said.

you shook your head. “that's not what i mean.”

a pause.

then softer, almost afraid: “i don't know who i am without him.”

that one stood in the air too long.

jimin shifted closer, just slightly. careful, like you might disappear if he moved too fast.

“you're still here,” he said.

you let out a shaky breath. “that doesn't feel like enough.”

he nodded once. honest. “i know.”

another silence.

then he added, quieter, “but it's where it starts.”

you didn't answer. but you don't stand up either.

on week seventeen, jimin had been putting his shoes on.

you had been watching him without really thinking about it, not in the anxious way you used to, not counting down the seconds until the room would feel too empty again, but just watching in a way that felt strangely neutral. like you weren't preparing for anything bad to happen the moment he left. like the leaving itself didn't automatically mean collapse anymore.

and then, without planning it, you spoke.

“you can stay a bit longer if you want.”

jimin paused immediately. probably shocked, because you were too.

“yeah?” he asked.

there was something careful in it. not uncertain about you, but about what he was allowed to do with this moment.

you nodded once.

“yeah.”

a beat stretched between you after that, longer than the words themselves, not uncomfortable, just full in a way neither of you rushed to fill. it wasn't the same silence it used to be, not the kind that used to feel like it was swallowing everything whole. it was quieter than that now, softer around the edges, like it had lost some of its urgency.

then he slowly bent down again. and took his shoes back off.

and on week twenty when he was sitting next to you, your head resting on his shoulder like it had always belonged there.

and slowly, without you noticing the exact moment it began, something changed in the way your body responded to him. you stopped bracing for impact every time he was near. you stopped rehearsing your own survival in your head before speaking. the silence between you didn't feel like a threat anymore. it started to feel like space. not empty space, but shared space. something you didn't have to defend yourself against.

the emptiness didn't leave.

it was still there, in the quieter moments, in the gaps between sentences, in the late hours when everything else fell asleep and your thoughts became too honest to ignore. but it stopped feeling like it was consuming everything. it stopped feeling like it was the only thing that proved you were still here.

it became background noise, instead of the entire song.

one evening you looked at him longer than you meant to. he was talking about something from work, something small enough that it almost felt ridiculous how  and you realized, with a strange kind of disbelief, that you were actually listening. not surviving. not enduring. not dissociating your way through the sound of another human voice.

listening.

and it didn't hurt the same way anymore. it didn't feel like you were standing outside of your own life watching it happen to someone else.

you swallowed, quietly, like even that small movement deserved attention.

maybe the space in your chest was never meant to be filled. maybe it was never about replacing what was missing, or pretending the loss didn't happen at all. maybe it was just about learning that not everything inside you needs to be fought against in order for you to keep going.

maybe it never stops being there. but maybe it stops being a place you're trapped inside.

“thank you, jimin.” your voice came out quieter than you expected when you finally speak.

“for what?” he asked.

you hesitated.

“for being here with me,”you said finally. “for not letting me go.”

taglist; @benyhime @joonwater @kam9404 @geniusbangtann @meeghangryfun @mar-lo-pap @lackingdopaminesince2007 @petroogorodnik @bitch--ari @roo-chi001

[minyoongiss]

INTRODUCTION | BUSINESS PROPOSAL | jeon jungkook

you were supposed to sabotage your best friend's blind date. make him lose interest. scare him off a little, maybe accidentally insult his ego enough that he'd go home and tell his parents there had been “no chemistry”. you were absolutely not supposed to make him want to marry her. or technically you in her form.

pairing: ceo!jeon jungkook x you/reader

warnings: none

word count: 1.4k

authors note: i'm lierally so excited to start this series. writing romcoms is and always will be my favourite. i hope you like this short sneak peek as much as i enjoyed writing it. as always, if you would like to be tagged in the next chapters, please let me know in the comments. (please make sure the feature to enable tagging is switched on. unfortunately, i couldn't add a couple of people for this chapter. :()

series masterlist

you were nervous. not normal nervous either. not presentation at work nervous or meeting someone's parents for the first time nervous. this was the kind of nervous where your stomach had apparently stopped functioning somewhere between leaving your apartment and arriving at the restaurant, and now only existed to make your life significantly more difficult.

which, honestly, felt fair.

because how many people regularly went on blind dates pretending to be their rich best friend?

exactly.

especially when said best friend had emotionally manipulated you, financially bribed you and somehow convinced you that identity fraud, but make it friendship, was a completely reasonable thing to participate in.

and now it was too late, because you had arrived.

too early, actually. painfully early.

the kind of early where you stood outside the restaurant for another five minutes because arriving twenty minutes before your blind date somehow felt more embarrassing than pretending to be another person. your reflection stared back at you through the glass windows and, honestly, you barely recognized yourself. mostly because approximately eighty percent of what you were wearing belonged to your friend. the dress? hers. the heels that were already slowly killing your feet? also hers. the jewelry around your wrist that probably cost more than your monthly rent? unfortunately, also hers. the only thing that was actually yours was the cheap halloween wig you'd bought on impulse and somehow it looked better than your real hair, at least according to your best friend and every other person on this world

you look expensive, she had proudly announced earlier.

i look borrowed, you had answered.

now, walking through the entrance toward reception, your brain decided this was the perfect moment to spiral. because suddenly there were too many questions and not enough answers. how did he look? how exactly were you supposed to sabotage this? what if he recognized you? what if he was weird? please let him be weird. or arrogant. or one of those men that talked about cryptocurrency during dinner and called themselves entrepreneurs after opening one business account.

anything would help.

because your mission tonight was simple in theory: ruin the date, make him dislike you, make him go home and tell everyone that miss jin young-seo was rude, unpleasant, and maybe slightly concerning.

easy.

probably.

hopefully.

you were led through the restaurant by a waiter, and honestly, you probably looked less like someone attending a blind date and more like a lost dog following its owner around.

completely out of place.

everything around you looked expensive in a way that made you suddenly aware of every single thing you were wearing even if most of it wasn't technically yours. the lighting was dim but somehow still screamed wealth, the tables far enough apart that rich people apparently also paid for personal space, and the decorations looked minimalistic in the terrifying way where minimalistic usually meant unnecessarily expensive.

you kept looking around while walking, trying not to stare too obviously while trying not to trip over your own feet.

because this place was expensive expensive. the kind of expensive where there were no prices displayed outside because if you had to ask, you probably couldn't afford it. the kind of expensive where you immediately knew your monthly salary wouldn't survive here.

actually not even survive.

your monthly salary probably wouldn't even cover dinner.

your savings?

also questionable.

you were beginning to understand why your friend had insisted on paying.

the waiter stopped near one of the tables and pulled the chair back for you.

for a second you just stared.

because no one had ever done that for you before.

then, realizing you had already paused too long, you quickly sat down.

carefully.

very carefully.

because suddenly the chair also looked expensive.

and breaking furniture in a restaurant you couldn't afford while pretending to be someone else felt like a very bad way to spend your evening.

you didn't even realize how long you been stuck in your own thoughts when—

“miss jin young-seo?”

the voice pulled you back so suddenly you almost jumped.

you looked up from where you had apparently been intensely studying the table decorations because if you were being honest, staring at the flowers had been easier than acknowledging the fact that you were sitting alone in a restaurant expensive enough to make your bank account cry.

“yes?”

and then your brain completely abandoned you.

because oh.

oh no.

your friend had forgotten to mention an important detail.

a very important detail.

her blind date was ridiculously attractive.

not normal attractive either. not oh he looks nice attractive. no, this was the kind of attractive that immediately irritated you because it complicated everything. he was tall in a way that felt unnecessary, dressed too well for a random dinner date, and had the kind of face that made you understand why rich people seemed to succeed at everything. broad shoulders hidden underneath an expensive coat, sharp features, calm expression, he looked less like someone attending a blind date and more like someone who accidentally walked out of a luxury brand campaign.

your first coherent thought was simple: he's hot.

your second coherent thought followed immediately after: this is deeply unfortunate.

“you are miss jin, right?” he asked again politely.

and honestly?

you had never been happier to temporarily be miss jin.

“yes,” you answered immediately.

too immediately.

the lie rolled off your tongue so naturally that it actually concerned you a little. maybe you should reflect on that later. much later. preferably after surviving tonight.

“please have a seat,” you said quickly, gesturing toward the chair in front of you because if you stared any longer this mission was already compromised.

and that was the problem.

because sabotaging ugly people? easy.

sabotaging attractive people? harder.

sabotaging attractive people who also seemed polite? borderline unethical.

still, you had a job to do.

you reached into your purse and pulled out the business card your friend had forced into your hand earlier. well, not your business card. hers. because apparently rich people exchanged business cards on blind dates while normal people exchanged instagram handles and asked what music you listened to.

“i don't even know who you are,” you said bluntly, deciding rudeness was probably the safest route.

good.

strong start.

“your name is?”

he blinked once but didn't look offended. if anything, he looked calm. suspiciously calm.

then he reached into his pocket and placed a card in front of you.

“my name is jeon jungkook.”

you stared.

“what?”

“my name is jeon jungkook.”

you exaggerated your expression.

“jeon what?”

“jeon jungkook,” he repeated patiently.

you raised your voice another octave.

“jeon jungkook?”

at this point he looked like he was reconsidering whether dinner was worth enduring whatever this interaction was.

good

excellent.

progress.

he reached for his card again.

you immediately pulled it closer.

“oops.”

his hand stopped midair.

you smiled awkwardly.

he slowly pulled his hand back.

you looked down again.

jeon jungkook.

then you turned the card around.

there was a logo.

a familiar logo. too familiar.

your eyes narrowed.

wait. no. absolutely not.

you looked again.

your stomach dropped so fast you were surprised it didn't physically hit the floor, because that wasn't just any logo.

that was your company logo.

your company.

your workplace.

the place where you spent eight hours pretending emails weren't slowly destroying your mental health.

slowly, very slowly, you looked back down at the card.

then back at him.

then back down again.

jeon jungkook.

the president.

your company president.

your CEO.

the man whose face was probably hanging somewhere in headquarters.

your brain kindly replayed the last ten minutes for you.

you had lied.

pretended to be another woman.

been rude.

mocked his name.

refused to return his business card.

and were currently committing identity fraud in front of your CEO.

amazing.

truly incredible work.

this was exactly why helping friends should legally require paperwork.

“miss jin.”

you didn't react because your soul had temporarily left your body.

“miss jin.”

clearer this time.

“yes?” you answered quickly, still mentally somewhere else entirely.

his eyebrows pulled together slightly.

“is something wrong?”

if something was wrong? what here was even right?

you were pretending to be someone else, sitting across from your company president on a blind date you were supposed to sabotage while actively realizing your boss was unfairly attractive.

this wasn't a blind date anymore.

this was karma.

and apparently karma looked very good in a suit.

taglist: @yooforea @ohmmylovie @serenaorsiren @arcadiaem @whoa-jo @mar-lo-pap @bangatanily @bjoriis @hrts4kook @rjsmochii @nochtuu @kokoandkookie @fadedmixtape @therealmrsbahng @badaspice @kookie96 @jakiki94 @celliez @yiyibetch @sunnnnnhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[minyoongiss]

BUSINESS PROPOSAL | jeon jungkook | series masterlist

you were supposed to sabotage your best friend's blind date. make him lose interest. scare him off a little, maybe accidentally insult his ego enough that he'd go home and tell his parents there had been “no chemistry”. you were absolutely not supposed to make him want to marry her. or technically you in her form.

pairing: ceo!jeon jungkook x you/reader

warnings: none

word count: tbd

authors note: after rewatching business propsal for the hundred time i had a little idea about a series. of course with jungkook as the ceo? (hello??) this will most likely be published when i’m nearly done with maybe. (hopefully soon..)

and also new theme. do we like it?? i’m not the best in making/editing covers so bare with me. :/

introduction: how to accidentally tease you guys with a sneak peak. - publish date: 30. May

one: how to accidentally be the best friend ever. - publish date: 12. july 12 am cet/cest

summary: when your best friend comes to you asking for a favor, always say no. especially when that favor somehow involves a blind date, identity fraud, and pretending to be her in front of a man neither of you have ever met before.

two: how to accidentally ruin a blind date - publish date: tbd

summary: when you’re on a date pretending to be your best friend, the goal is simple: sabotage it. ruin the vibe. make it awkward enough that he starts questioning his entire life choices. what you are not supposed to do is accidentally sit across from your boss halfway through dessert.

three: how to accidentally not reveal your real identitiy - publish date: tbd

summary: when you suddenly receive a sms from your blind date while literally sitting next to your boss, well your blind date, don’t panic. that’s what bathrooms are for.

four: how to accidentally date your boss (as someone else?) - publish date: tbd

summary: when he offers to drop you off at home after the fourth date, get out of the car early. or risk him finding out where you live. or worse realizing who you actually are.

five: how to accidentally get a happy ending - publish date: tbd

summary: when he finds out who you really are, don’t scramble for excuses, just tell him the truth. no damage control, no clever lies, no last-minute improvising. simple. or not?

taglist: open! if you want to be tagged for updates, let me know in the comments.

[minyoongiss]

ONLY MINE | kim taehyung

you shouldn't have tried to make him jealous. or maybe you did the right thing.

pairing: idol!kim taehyung x you/reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: 18+, pure filth.

authors note: first post ever and it’s smut. didn’t proofread it

“will you ever try to make me jealous again?” taehyung whispered in your ear as he thrusted in you from behind. hard and fast, your hands pressed against the cold window of the hotel. the coldness cooling down your hot body. your check was pressed against the hard surface of the window, a fogy layer already creating on it because of your hectic breathing.

you couldn’t answer, all your thoughts, all possible sentences you could form, were gone the moment he entered your needing wet hole. and god did you love it.

your sounds echoed off the walls, not even trying to hide your voices anymore. not caring if anyone could here you. not caring if they heard, how good taehyung was fucking you.

he pressed your front firmly, insistently and harder against the cold glass, but not too hard. it was just enough pressure, like he knew how you liked aftr all this time. he always knew what you liked. how you liked it.

his arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, grounding you and pulling you against him until you had barely enough room to think—let alone move. each time, he pushed in and out of you. every time, your body tilted forward completely, because you could no longer hold yourself, he would pull you back against him. not caring about all the cries and whimpers coming out of your mouth. “i’m sorry,” you subbed. but were you really sorry?

the way he pressed his hand on your lower abdomen, whenever he rammed his cock into your cervix with full force, made you feel it more intensely. "can you feel it? how deep i’m inside you?" as if he was trying to prove something, he went deeper than you thought was ever possible. his thrust brutal and deep, his cock dragging against your walls like he was trying to stamp himself in your body. as if he wanted to make sure that you would even feel him days after this. no, so that you could never forget him.

"do you really think that jimin could ever fuck you the way i do? do you think he could even make you come?" his hand, which had been pressed against your abdomen, found its way to your clit. two fingers rubbing it in a sloppy way.

you moaned as you buried your head into the pit of his shoulder. “tae-taehyung don't stop,” you screamed, holding on to the window with your arms, to his biceps, which had grown twice as much since he returned from the military, to something, anything, you could hold yourself onto. you could still remember exactly when he'd sent you a topless picture without any context. a shirtless picture of him after training in the military. and the only thing you could see was, how big he got. so big and bulky. looking so sexy, so manly that the first thing you did when you went home was, make yourself come with your fingers to the sight of this picture. making a mess on your bedsheets.

"i asked you a question baby. answer me," he gasped breathlessly against your ear, his voice low and raspy. he started kissing down your neck slowly, leaving light bites, desperate to mark you. to mark you as his. “tae not.” were the only words you could get out, way to fucked up. you agreed when you started this ‘relationship’ that you would leave no marks. no hickeys, no nail marks on his back. nothing. because how was a world-famous idol going to explain to his make-up artist where all the marks on his neck came from?

"should i send him a video of me fucking your tight pussy. what do you say?” you knew exactly who he meant. “maybe then he will stop flirting with you.”

he chuckled.

“or better i'll call him over and show him how much of a cockslut you are for me,” he swivelled against your ear, licking where he'd marked you. you convulsed around him. a needy moan escaping your lips. at this point he was just desperate. desperate to get a response from you. desperate for any kind of reaction. you knew why he was doing this, you knew what he wanted, why he pushed you, and yet, you flirted with jimin. looking deep in his eyes, smiling devilishly. and that was all it took for him to explode. and maybe he knew why you did it too.

“you like that? the thought of jimin seeing how i’m fucking you? fucking your needy pussy for months,” he moaned as he abused your cunt. taehyung slowed his pace, only so he can penetrate you harder. each slap that connected with your skin elicited a pornographic moan from your throat. you felt his balls slapping harshly against your ass, and how his body pressed you against the cool surface of the window. his fingers still rubbing and pinching your clitoris, making you cry out.

“tae please.” you didn't know what you were begging for. were you begging for him? or for the thought of him filming you both? how he was fucking you hard and mercilessly? how he fucked you, a mere employee of HYBE? maybe that was the reason why the whole thing had started between you in the first place. why you were on your knees with taehyung's cock in your mouth in the first week of you working there. blowing him like it was about winning the gold madeille. or maybe the fact that the whole thing was secretly giving you the kink. the thought that something could come out at any moment, someone seeing you, someone reporting you. that this was your dirty little secret.

“no matter how hard you try to make me jealous,” each of his thrusts deepened with the roll of his hips. “you're mine. say you're mine. only mine.” you moaned loudly. your breaths becoming shorter, chest rosing rose and felling quickly. his finger let go of your clit and found your neck.

with each thrust he hit your sweet spot inside o you, the pressure intensifying until you thought you might break. your eyes watered, not from pain, but from the intensity of the lust that built up and threatens to swallow you whole. you could feel his muscles tensing, his body on the verge of its own release.

you nod, “yes-yes i'm yours. only yours,” your voice turned into a high-pitched whimper before you finally came. you came undo on his throbbing cock. still as he kissed your g-spot with his tip. for a moment you thought you could see stars, mound dropped no sound coming out. only hearing the pounding of your racing heart in your ears. no, you really were seeing the stars. taehyung really outdid himself. “fuck. fuck. fuck.” taehyung fucked you through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release. his fingers clasped your neck harder, the pain of your high coursing through you, riding out your high.

he pulled your head to his neck and greedily pressed his lips to yours in a messy, teeth clashing kiss. the angle was uncomfortable, especially since your neck was stretched in a painful way. but you didn’t care. it felt good. way too good. you gasped pain-filled into his mouth, taehyung seizing the opportunity to push his tongue slopply into your mouth.

“gonna fill you up. gonna mark this pussy,” he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “gonna pump you so fucking full of me, that it‘ll be dripping out of your cunt for days.” his voice sending another shiver through you, making your oversensitive clench around his cock. and then he buried himself deep with an animalistic moan, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you, colouring your inner walls white. not stopping until you felt the mixture of his and your come dripping down your thighs.

soft moans and the sharp hiss of breath were the only sounds in the room. no other sound could be heard for a couple of seconds.

taehyung pulled himself slowly out of you. you whimpered at the loss of the feeling of fullness. then he bend his head down to your ear. “only mine,” he said as pushed the mess leaking out of your cunt back in it.

maybe you should make him jealous more often.

[minyoongiss]

1.000 notes. wow still can’t believe this. thank you. thank you. thank you. <3

[skzhotpot]

Ellie’s BTS Recs - Yoongi (part 2)

Back to Fic Rec Masterlist

🌸 indicates a club read for @k-fic-collection

Yoongi

One-shots

Unexpected Lovers by @jjkeverlast

Fill the Void by @glossdebut

Sweetener by @taegularities

Still Hate Me? by @minyoongiss

Pretty Girls Lie Pretty by @kikiskook

Breakfast in Bed by @joonbird

Troubleshoot My Heart by @kittenan2

Too Good at Pretending by @cigarettesuga

Blame the Government by @mister0ctopus

Best Laid Plans by @glossdebut

Quality Control by @pr1nce-jm 🌸

Subscribed by @aquagustd

No One Else by @voongiez

SMAU

Your Universe by @muniimyg

Series

Take a Bite by @glossdebut

Pigments & Playlists by @ktownshizzle

Just For the Weekend by @daegudrama (Mini Series)

Dating Advice by @taleasnewastime

Nerd & Nerdier by @ktownshizzle

[minyoongiss]

<33

[imjustcrabby]

My favorite tumblr BTS fics of 2026 (as a namjoon and yoongi bias)

Namjoon:

The Bodyguard by @rmnamjoons (Namjoon x Reader) - My first ever tumblr fic and I read it in genuinely one sitting (it took hours)

Office Hours by @minyoongiss (Namjoon x Reader) - The filth?? Amazing 10/10

Heart got teeth by @100vern (Namjoon x Reader) - 5sos and BTS my two worlds collide??????

Seokjin:

Clichés and Canapés by @kpopfanfictrash (Seokjin x Reader) - Fake dating my beloved 🫶

Yoongi:

Play Dirty by @97luvz (Yoongi x Reader) - Not even going to lie. I just found out this is a part of a series and I will be reading the rest now but the line “you have a friend?” is now such a big inside joke between me and my friend. ALSO YOONGI WITH PRINCE ALBERT PIERCING??? Needs to be more common ngl

Cybersex by @gimmethatagustd (Yoongi x Reader) - I'm a slut for a good brother's best friend and this delivered. This fic is so so so good and the relationship build up chefs kiss

Reckless by @merakoo (Yoongi x Reader) - I WANT TO SMOKE WITH MIN YOONGI AND THEN GET RAILED BY HIM ARE YOU KIDDING??? (anyways this fic was so hot I love it 🫶)

Taehyung:

Midnight Curfew by @taerotic (Taehyung x Reader) - OMG THE SMUT??? THE TENSION? THE POLICE RADIO??

Jungkook:

Like $ugar on my tongue by @shawtuzi (Jungkook x Reader) - Where can I find a man like this???

Fall in love again and again by @spideyjimin (Jungkook x Reader) - This is genuinely such a cute fic and it needs even more attention

Sinners by wintrbears (Jungkook x Reader) - OMFG THIS WAS HOT, i love me a oc/reader that bosses the other around 🙂‍↕️

Multiple Members:

Good Girl by @jamaisjoons (Seokjin x Reader x Yoonji x Jimin) - THE FILTH!!! Also didnt realize it was Yoonji for a hot minute and thought it was yoongi but genuinely made it all the better 

Only here to Sin by @gimmethatagustd (Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jimin x Reader, Taehyung x Namjoon) - Okay infidelity, not my fav. But this fic genuinely was so good so many things I did not expect to happen happened and OMG THE TAEJOON DRABBLE AT THE END??? Give me 10 more

Made of Honor by @kookooluvr (Namjoon x Reader, Jungkook x Reader) - Dont get me started on this fic. Genuinely my roman empire fic, all of my friends (2 people) know about this fic. I bring it up often and I believe EVERYONE needs to read it

All night by @axigailxo (Namjoon x Reader x Yoongi) - My bias’s so genuinely amazing already plus the smut 10/10

Sugar Talking (Taehyung x Reader)  and Better than him (Jungkook x Reader)  by @inthelow - THE FILTH THE FILTH THE FILTH, i need to find a man who degrades me like Better Than Him Jk ngl. That shit was so hot

Lights, Camera, Action by @colormepurplex2 (Jungkook x Reader x Namjoon) - This was so good and SO HOT??? The last chapter also just made me so happy

Ongoing Series:

Run, Little Bunny by @gukcnt (Yoongi x Reader) - Okay, im so fucking excited to keep reading this, like genuinely idk what it is about the dynamic of this but its hot asf and I JUST KNOW the smut is gonna go crazy

The Hit list by @wintrbears (Jungkook x Reader) - Both me and my best friend are reading this and we are constantly on the edge of our seats waiting for a new chapter to come out.

Yes, Chef by @yoonmetogether (Yoongi x Reader) - My best friend has gotten genuinely sick of me talking about this fic and im patiently awaiting for the next chapter 🙏 I neeeeed to know if they take it further because ugh the dynamic??? 10/10

Anyways I love all of these fics and I 10/10 recommend all of them to anyone who hasn't read them. Also just support these amazing authors ❤️❤️

[minyoongiss]

awww. thank you so much <3

[sweetunicorn1]

BTS (Maknae Line) - MASTERLIST (2)

fluff=💕 smut=💋 angst=🌱 yandere=🔪

Jimin

Blinded Desires (series)🔪🌱 - @wldcardd

Bated Breath 💋💕🌱 - @chimoona

Shhh 💋💕 - @personasintro

Hands to yourself 💋💕 - @personasintro

Not normal 💕 - @belleeebelleee

Split 💋💕 - @sombreboy

My Light 🔪💋🌱 - @purpleyoonn

Broken Souls 🌱💕 - @chimtaesty

Serendipity 🌱💕 - @chimtaesty

Unparalleled Service 💕 - @yourkeeperoftherunners

The Pitfalls of Silk 🔪💋💕 - @ctrlhope

Long blond hair 💕 - @kooslovv

Undone 💋 - @a-nyx-7

Make it up to you 💋 - @heewnss

Thirst Trap 💋 - @espressojoons

Taehyung

Challenging Daddy 💋 - @jkeuphoriadreamland

White Shirt, Red Ribbon 💋 - @femme11fatale

Beautiful 💕 - @femme11fatale

In Your Love 💕 - @femme11fatale

When You Least Expect it 💕 - @femme11fatale

Taehyung as a dad… 💕 - @boy-inluvv

Both? Both is good 💕 - @boy-inluvv

The sketch and the smaller eye 💋💕 - @blueberryarchive

I will find you 🌱💕 Together again 💕 - @fictional-lifee

What‘s A Soulmate 💕 - @lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr

Bound By Blood 🔪💕💋 - @ctrlhope

WOW 💋 - @taleasnewastime

Cherry Cola Kisses 💕 - @femme11fatale

Garden Of Pink Petals 💋💕 - @helenazbmrskai

Only Mine 💋 - @minyoongiss

Jungkook

The Walls Are Whispering 🔪💋🌱 - @jkwrites-m

Pirate Captain Jungkook 🔪💋 - @ohhowjooniewept

Bloodlines entwined (series)🌱💕💋 - @spideyjimin

Please Don’t Eat Me! 💕🌱💋 - @spicybutterfly

Round 2.0 💋 - @wldcardd

Nothing Ordinary 💕 - @kpopdreamythought

Both? Both is good 💕 - @boy-inluvv

Spring Crescent 💕 - @persphonesorchid

Oh, deer 💕💋 - @jigglyjeon

Get used to it 💕💋 - @macchuu-7

Navigating Tides 🌱💕💋 - @jjungkookislife

Stuck with you 💕 - @himekissed

00.01% Chance 💋💕 - @ctrlhope

Meet me at the park 💕 - @97linelover

Competitive 💕 - @tarathetic

Taking care 💕 - @a-nyx-7

Glitch in the Matrix 💋 - @sulkingheichou012

Dark Office Romance 🔪💋 - @helenazbmrskai

Garden Of Red Petals 💋💕 - @helenazbmrskai

Love me again 🌱💕 - @tarathetic

Push comes to shove 💋💕 - @jeonjk197

The Little Things 💋💕 - @jeonjk197

Married life be like 2 💋💕 - @jeonjk197

[minyoongiss]

thank you so much <3

[minyoongiss]

GUCCI COWBOY HAT | kim taehyung

in which a so called cowboy with a gucci hat turns out to be the most submissive boy you ever met or in which you ride taehyung like the good cowgirl you are.

pairing: sub!taehyung x dom!reader/you

warnings: 18+, explicit sex scenes, explicit language

authors note: wrote this in one hour? taehyung you and that cowboy hat are truly an inspiration.

word count: 800

he was absolutely wrecked beneath you, a broken, sobbing mess of pathetic whimpers and desperate gasps that echoed through the room.

you didn't know who he was, didn't care, didn't need to know; the only thing that registered in your dazed, drunk (at least an hour ago) mind when you saw him standing in the dark, shadowed corner of your best friend's halloween party was that you needed him instantly. especially with that ridiculous, fucking gucci cowboy hat perched on his head like a crown for a clown.

who even wore a designer hat to a cheap, trashy costume party? he looked like a joke, a wannabe cowboy with too much money and zero style, but the way his eyes tracked your every movement, wide and dilated, completely submissive, desperate to please, that was what you wanted. you wanted to break him completely, to see him crumble into nothingness under your hands, just a submissive little cowboy who existed solely to service your needs.

"shit, you feel so good," you groaned, your voice breathless and wrecked, your hips moving on their own, seeking more friction, more of him, deeper. your hands pressed flat against his hard, heaving chest, your nails digging in aggressively, scratching marks into his skin, claiming him, branding him as yours, turning him into your personal toy. fucking him like a good cowgirl cause that’s what a real cowboy needed. or not?

"fuck me, please, just fuck me." he needed it. but you needed it more, needed to feel him fill you up, needed to feel his cum painting your insides, needed to feel his desperation against your skin.

you leaned forward, capturing his mouth, tongue exploring his mouth, tasting his desperation, his need, his submission. he moaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer, begging for more, begging for you to use him harder, to take him deeper, to break him completely. you pulled back, panting, your lips swollen and red, your eyes locked on his, seeing the pure adoration and submission in them, a sight that made your pussy drip.

and when he whimpered. fuck.

your head fell back, your neck exposed, giving him perfect access as you rode him with wild abandon, your hips snapping up and down, faster and faster, harder and harder, letting his thick, pulsating cock slide in and out of your wet, welcoming pussy. rolling you hips up and down, back and forth, a rhythm that had you seeing stars, your body consumed by pleasure, your mind completely blank except for the feeling of him inside you.

you reached down, your fingers trailing through your juices, slicking up his cock as you took him deeper, longer, more, more, more, his thick shaft stretching you wide, filling you completely, his tip brushing against your cervix, making you cry out. "you like that, cowboy?" you taunted, your voice breathless and rough. "you like being used by me? like this?" you squeezed his cock with your inner muscles, milking him, drawing more pleasure from him, making him groan and arch his back, his hips bucking up to meet yours, matching your rhythm, his tip filling you with pre-cum until he hit that spot, making you moan. you wanted to fill that empty space with his seed, with his life, with everything he had. you were so done for a nameless cowboy.

his hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, his nails digging in, anchoring you to him, holding you down so he could sloppily thrust up into you, meeting you stroke for stroke, driving you both insane. "take it, take it all," you grunted, his face buried in your neck, his lips kissing, licking, biting your skin, making you shiver with delight, making you moan louder, making you need him even more. his tongue traced a path up your neck, to your earlobe, sucking and nibbling on it, making you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure, your pussy clamping down on his thick cock.

"f-fuck... please... more," he begged, his voice cracking, hie body writhing, your hips moving faster, faster, faster, needing to feel him cum inside you, needing to be filled by him, needing to feel his hot, sticky seed paint your insides, marking you. god please yes.

his cock throbbed inside you, pulsating, filling you with hot, thick seed, painting your walls with his cum, making you feel so full, so used, so dirty, so good.

you came hard, your body shaking, your toes curling, your vision blurring, your mind going blank, lost in the overwhelming pleasure, lost in the feeling of him inside you, lost in the feeling of using him, a broken, pathetic little cowboy, used by a woman who didn't even know his name.

you rode him through your orgasm, your hips moving slower now, your body spent, your chest heaving, your skin glistening with sweat, your body covered in his pathetic marks, his bites, his scratches. he was still hard inside you, his cock still pulsating, still filling you with his cum, still whimpering pathetically. such a sweet sweet boy.

you leaned down, your face inches from his, whispering in his ear, voice low enough for him to hear: "you're mine now, cowboy."

[minyoongiss]

DANCE BREAK | jung hoseok

in which the combination of ovulation and teacher mode hoseok can be really dangerous or in which a dance break leads to hoseok showing how good of a teacher he can be.

pairing: idol!jung hoseok x you/reader

warning: 18+, explicit sex scenes, explicit language

word count: 2.7k

authors note: a short one shot because why not.

"shit, baby," hoseok moaned, a low, guttural vibration against your ear as he thrusted into you from behind. each powerful drive of his hips pushing you harder against the cold wall of the supply closet. you couldn't suppress your own moan. a helpless cry escaping your lips as the thick head of his cock struck that perfect spot deep inside you. "your pussy is heavenly," he breathed, his fingers wandering down from where they'd been gripping your hip, finding the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

you threw your head back against his chest as his fingers began to circle your clit with a pressure that pushed you dangerously close to the edge. "be quiet or the others will hear us," he hissed through his teeth, his voice a harsh whisper. "or do you want the others to hear how i'm fucking you in a supply closet?"

you whimpered, the sound pathetic, even to your own ears. you had ridden yourself into this situation, your own impatience and desperation leading you to this. because what you were ovulating and suddenly seeing him in his trainer mode was the hottest thing you ever saw? every sharp command, every moment of focused intensity, was a direct line to your core. how him scolding the others for not doing enough or making a mistake, his voice firm and unforgiving, made you rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. so pathetic.

"hoseok, harder," your voice was barely distinguishable from a moan, a ragged, desperate plea.

hoseok behind you let out a breathless laugh. and suddenly, you were pressed further into the wall as he drove into you with renewed vigor. "any moment someone could walk in," he whispered, his voice a teasing, dangerous murmur against your ear. your pussy clenching around him, a traitorous, involuntary reaction to the thrill of his words. "ah, you like that, don't you?"

the question hung in the air, a mocking knowing taunt that made your cheeks burn with a mixture of shame and undeniable arousal. you couldn't answer, couldn't form a single coherent thought, let alone a denial, because the truth was that you did like it. you liked the risk, the danger, the thought of being discovered.

he rammed into you, the words punctuated by a brutal, punishing thrust that stole the air from your lungs and sent a jolt of pleasure so intense it was almost painful through your entire body. "s-shit, did it get you this wet just from hearing me coach the others?" he grunted, his voice a low, smug purr against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "did you get off on hearing me tell them what to do, wishing it was you i was ordering around?"

his words were a filthy, humiliating, an unvarnished truth that you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to. he knew.

he laughed again, a low, dark sound that vibrated through his chest and into your back, a stark contrast to the frantic rhythm of his hips. "answer me," he commanded, his voice a low growl, his fingers tightening on your hip. "did you like hearing my voice, telling them what to do? did you pretend it was you i was directing, you i was pushing to your limits?"

you could only shake your head, a frantic, desperate denial that was betrayed by the way your body was responding to him. by the slick, undeniable evidence of your arousal coating his cock, by the way your inner walls were clenching around him for more. he didn't believe you, of course. he knew you too well, knew the way your mind worked, the way your body responded to his voice, his touch, his presence. he knew you were lying.

"liar," he breathed, the word a soft, intimate caress, a final, damning condemnation. "you're such a fucking liar, and you know it." and with that, he pulled you head and bended it so that you could see his eyes burning, "now," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "you're going to tell me exactly what you were thinking, exactly what you wanted me to do to you or you won't come."

the words were stuck in your mouth.

"come on," he pressed, his voice a low, persuasive murmur. "don't get shy on me now. not after you practically begged me to fuck you in here. tell me what you were imagining when you were watching me. was it this? did you want me to bend you over the nearest piece of equipment and fuck you in front of everyone?"

your breath hitched in your throat, the image his words painted so vivid, so debauched, making your knees tremble and your heart pound against your ribs. you couldn't speak, couldn't form a single word, your mind a chaotic mess of shame and desire.

"or maybe," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, a conspiratorial whisper that was somehow even more intimidating, "maybe you wanted me to pull you into a room, close the door, and have my way with you. is that it? did you want me to spread you out and taste you, to make you come on my tongue until you couldn't remember your own name?"

you whimpered, a pathetic, desperate sound that was all the answer he needed. he knew. he'd known all along.

"i knew it," he breathed, the smug, triumphant smile on his lips impossible to miss. "you're such a dirty little girl, aren't you? so desperate for my cock that you'll take it anywhere, anytime, won't you?" and before you could answer, before you could even process his words, he pulled your head closer and kissed, all teeth and tongue.

his tongue delved into your mouth, leaving you breathless and dizzy. his hands were everywhere, one tangled in your hair, holding you in place, the other roaming your body, in a slow, deliberate way. teasing you. reminding you that he was in control.

he pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "look at you," he breathed, his voice a low, husky murmur. "so fucking beautiful when you're falling apart for me."

his thumb brushed over your lower lip, gentle, almost tender. "i could fuck you for hours," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, a low, intimate confession that made your heart skip a beat. "i could fuck you until you forgot your own name, until the only thing you can remember was the feel of my cock inside you, the sound of my voice in your ear."

your breathing, already ragged, became a series of sharp, shallow pants, and a soft, helpless whimper escaped your lips with every slow, deliberate thrust. he slowed his pace even further, his movements becoming almost lazy, a torturous, languid rhythm that was designed to push you to the very brink of madness, to make you beg for the release he was so cruelly denying you.

"that's it," he breathed, his voice a low, encouraging murmur against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "i can feel you. you're so close, aren't you? you're right there, baby. just let go. let me have it." his fingers, which had been stroking your clit with a slow, teasing pressure, began to move with a renewed urgency, a firm, relentless circles that pushed you closer and closer to the edge, your body a trembling.

just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm begin to build, a low, insistent buzz emanated from the pocket of his jeans,. it was his phone, a frantic, persistent vibration. he ignored it at first, his focus solely on you, but the buzzing continued. you head turned back at him.

a slow, wicked smile spread across his face. he saw your fear, and he liked it. he liked it a lot. with a low, chuckle, he reached into his pocket, his movements slow and deliberate, a cruel, calculated tease. he pulled out his phone, the bright screen a harsh, intrusive light and held it up between you, his eyes never leaving yours.

he pulled slightly down, his lips brushing against your ear, a slow, deliberate movement that made you shudder with anticipation. "it’s namjoon" he whispered. "should i answer it? should i let the guys hear how i'm fucking you in here when i should be back in the practice room? should i let them hear how you're begging for my cock, how you're about to come all over me?" his words filthy, humiliating, making your cheeks burn and your pussy clench.

"yeah?" he said, his voice low. he kept his thrusts slow, but deep, a punishing, deliberate rhythm that made it impossible for you to think, to focus on anything but the feel of him inside you. "you’re such a filthy slut. my filthy slut."

he swiped to answer.

"hoseok? man, where the hell are you? we're all waiting," namjoon's voice, tinny and distorted, echoed through the small space. he put it on speaker. on speaker? what if he would hear anything? shit. a wave of panic shot through you, and you instinctively tried to pull away.

but his grip was like iron. one arm locked around your waist, pinning you to him, while the other held the phone between you. and then, as namjoon's voice continued to drone on, he began to move again. it was a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, a deep, grinding thrust that sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure through you. you bit down hard on your lower lip, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth, an attempt to stifle the whimper that was threatening to escape. you nails digging into your palms.

hoseok's smile widened, his eyes glinting as he watched you struggle. he was enjoying this, enjoying your humiliation, enjoying the power he held over you in this moment. "i'm on the can," he said, his voice a nonchalant murmur, a stark contrast to the brutal, punishing rhythm of his hips. "give me five minutes."

"five minutes no more," and with that, he hung up, tossing his phone onto a nearby shelf with a careless, dismissive flick of his wrist.

"now," he breathed, his voice a low, dangerous growl, a stark contrast to the casual, dismissive tone he'd used with namjoon.

"where were we?" and with that, he resumed his relentless, punishing rhythm, his hips snapping forward with a brutal force that stole your breath and made your head spin. he was no longer teasing, no longer drawing out the pleasure.

he didn't give you a moment to recover from the shock, from the lingering terror of being so close to discovery. the second the phone clicked off, his hands slammed against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and the rhythm of his hips became punishing, brutal. each thrust was a deep, powerful stroke that knocked the air from your lungs, that sent a jolt of pleasure so intense it was almost painful through your entire body.

"that's it," he growled, his voice a low, guttural snarl against your ear. "take it. take every fucking inch. you wanted this, didn't you? you wanted me to fuck you like this, to remind you who's in charge."

he reached down, his fingers finding your clit, still swollen and hypersensitive from his earlier attention. he didn't just rub; he pressed down hard, a firm, unyielding pressure that was the final, devastating blow. "come for me baby," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative roar that was a final, undeniable order. "now."

and with his words, with his touch, with the brutal, relentless rhythm of his hips, you shattered. a strangled cry tore from your throat, a broken, desperate sound that was a mix of his name and a string of nonsensical curses. your body convulsed, your inner walls clenching around him in a rhythmic, pulsating release that was so intense it was almost painful. your vision went white, the sound of his voice, the pleasure that was consuming you from the inside out. leaving you breathless and boneless, a limp doll in his arms, your body trembling with the force of your release, your mind a blank, blissful void.

the way your body convulsed, the way your inner walls clamped down around him in a vice-like grip, was his undoing. it was a silken, milking pull that stole his last shred of control, a final, desperate plea. he buried himself deep inside you with a final, brutal thrust, a guttural, primal "shit" tearing from his throat as he found his own release in you.

his body collapsed against yours, his full weight pinning you to the wall, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, shallow pants that fanned across your sweat-slicked skin. you could feel his heart hammering against your back, a frantic beat that echoed the pounding of your own.

for a long moment, you just stayed there, a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. his weight a comforting, grounding pressure against your back, his forehead still resting on your shoulder as he struggled to regain his composure. finally, with a soft, weary sigh, he pushed himself up, leaving you feeling suddenly cold and empty.

you turned to face him, the dim light from the crack under the door casting a soft, hazy glow over his features. his hair was a mess, a wild, disheveled halo around his face, and his lips were swollen and glistening, a testament to the ferocity of your kisses. you reached up, your fingers gently combing through the tangled strands, a soft, tender gesture that was at odds with the raw, primal intensity of your earlier encounter. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, a sigh escaping his lips.

"you look like you've been through a war," he murmured, a low, teasing rumble that made you smile. you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "look who's talking," you retorted, your voice a husky whisper.

"i love you baby," he said, his voice a soft, sincere murmur.

you smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached you eyes, "i love you more," you said.

taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened the door, after making sure that you weren't looking like you fucked your brains out. he stepped out first, holding the door open for you. you followed him out.

the guys were still scattered across the floor, recovering from practice, limbs everywhere, shirts clinging to damp skin, the air thick with heat and effort, but the second the door opened, everything paused just long enough to acknowledge your presence.

or rather both of you.

"sorry, boys," he said, his tone relaxed, almost amused. "took a little longer than expected."

there was a beat, just long enough for that to settle, for the implication of it to hang there in the air, before anyone even responded.

and then jin, shifted slightly where he was sitting, his expression already giving him away before he even opened his mouth. the smirk came first, his gaze moving between you and hoseok with far too much awareness for your liking.

"yeah," he said, dragging the word out just enough to make it worse, "we noticed."

you could feel it immediately, the heat rising, creeping up your neck in a way that made it impossible to ignore, especially with the way the others were now watching a little more closely, a little more interested than before.

and maybe, just maybe, you could've recovered from that. could've ignored the tone, brushed it off, pretended like nothing about this was as obvious as it felt.

if jin had stopped there. which, of course, he didn't.

"you might want to," he continued, "wipe the lipstick off your neck, hoseok."

[minyoongiss]

THE SLOW BURRRNNNNNNNNNNNN YOONGIIIII