Pairings: Demon!BTS x f!reader, Yoongi x reader (main), everyone x everyone
Summary: You accidentally summon a demon after a few drinks with your friends and manage to make him mess up his ritual to get back home. Now you're stuck in hell with a morally grey squad of demons who take you in (some more welcoming than others) and promise to try and bring you back to where you belong. Getting to know them during your warm holiday down south makes it clear though, that you're not the only one in need of help.
Genre: Fluff, smut, reader has multiple sexual partners, everyone is horny as hell, a bit of reverse harem (but not every single member), it's hinted at that reader isn't Korean and doesn't really know about the culture, it's also hinted that she's around the same age as BTS, reader has a cat!!, strangers to lovers, found family, comedy, but also trauma and angst, crack in terms of their idol lives being re-written to fit into hell (Bang PD is the devil for example), fantasy elements (demonic powers, the underworld, magic)
Fic Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, blasphemy, lots of trauma. See Hell Yeah Masterlist for a full list of warnings (beware)!
Chapter Warnings: Cursing and a lot of it, Yoongi's blatant hatred of AI, reader has a meltdown when she realizes she's stuck in hell, Tae being a funny perv
Word count: 11.4k
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01 - Down South
"What the fuck!" you shriek as an unknown man materializes out of thin air in the middle of your living room. Scared shitless, you scramble back on the floor from where you were sitting until your back hits the couch.
He groans, mumbling angrily, in a language you don't understand, while you just stare at him with wide eyes, shaking. Your brain is working on overdrive, the gears turning probably visible to your uninvited guest.
“What?” you stutter, before your mind finally starts to connect some puzzle pieces.
You tried to conjure up Kimchi, just for shits and giggles, obviously not expecting this stupid ritual to work. The man in front of you looks to be of Asian descent. Did you actually summon a Korean man instead of Korean food? Again, what the fuck?!
He rolls his eyes at you before his gaze falls to the red chopsticks in his right hand and groans. He snips his fingers. “Ugh, of course.” His language has switched to an annoyed English now.
"For fuck's sake," he grumbles, "I was just sitting down to have lunch." He looks towards the floor, a bowl of spilt fried rice at his feet and on your carpet. Some is even stuck to his shoe. He shakes it off like a cat that accidentally got its paw wet.
“Lunch? It’s 11 pm.”
Why are you even questioning him? His dietary choices and when he eats his meals should be the least of your concerns, when you have no idea what just happened and how he appeared in your apartment. Maybe he’s doing intermittent fasting. None of your business anyway.
Okay, you might have some idea on how it happened actually, but that would defeat everything you believe - or rather don't believe in.
The guy just rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head with an annoyed frown, as if it’s not him intruding on you. “Not where I’m from.”
The hell? Where exactly is he from? A different timezone then? “Korea, by chance?” you carefully try, not entirely believing this is a conversation you're actually having. This can't be happening.
“Not exactly.”
Vague. Bitter. Rude. He’s not helping you understand any of this.
“What do you want?” he asks, fingers curling around his chopsticks, making his knuckles turn even whiter than his skin.
Huh? “What do you want?” you ask. “Why are you here and what the fuck is going on?”
He clicks his tongue, eyes fixed to the floor with his head hanging low, long black hair falling forward. “You summoned me.” He looks up at you now, brows knitted as he cocks his head to the side, studying you. “So you tell me why I’m here. It's not even your time yet.”
“My time?” Seriously, this guy must be insane! “Are you the grim reaper?”
“Worse,” he says with a grin, mocking you with his perfectly feline features.
He’s beginning to piss you off… Why can't he just explain himself like a normal person? You shake your head with a huff. “What then? The devil?”
“Not quite as bad,” he shoots back.
You stare at him, irritated and still very much confused. Okay, last try before you jump him and stab him with his chopsticks. “I don’t know, uh…” You motion with your hand, while pondering. “A fucking demon?”
“Correct,” he nods, twirling the red utensils between his fingers.
“You… You’re joking, right?” You stammer, dumbfounded, and finally take a moment to properly take in the guy standing before you.
He observes you with an amused expression now instead of the scowl from before while you eye him up and down, desperately trying to form a coherent thought.
The dude doesn't look like a demon at all, the most extraordinary thing about him being a bright red scar going vertically from his forehead down across his eye, though sparing the skin there and continuing down to his cheek. It stands out, contrasting his milky white skin.
His black hair is long-ish, down to his shoulders almost. Some of the slightly wavy strands keep falling into his face, making him brush his hand through his hair an obnoxious amount of times.
You almost scoff at the open hawaiian-print shirt he’s wearing over a fucking wifebeater. Some necklaces are dangling against his chest. You scan further down over the ripped black jeans exposing his knees, to the stompy black boots he’s sporting.
You were probably staring a bit too hard - what the fuck are you judging his outfit for, this is not the situation for it - and he snaps his ring-clad fingers, bringing you back to reality.
“You’re seriously trying to tell me demons are real and they are dressed,” you motion your hand towards his casual look, “like this?”
“What, you got an issue with my clothes?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“It’s just not what I would have expected, I guess?” Yeah, you didn't imagine demons would look effortlessly cool, much less hot. Great, you’re apparently getting the hots for intruding hell monsters now. You rake through your memories, trying to recall if you hit your head recently, because what the fuck.
He puts the chopsticks into the backpocket of his jeans, then rubs his hands together before bringing them to his mouth. Fingers interlaced with an opening between his thumbs and pointer fingers, he blows a breath between them with a slow exhale, like he’s cold. Your confusion must be obvious when he regards you. “What? It’s a bit warmer where I’m from… Now, before I leave, how the hell did you manage to summon a demon when you didn't even know they existed?”
Well… Funny story actually. You had friends over, had a couple of glasses together and someone whipped out the dusty old ouija board from the back of your wardrobe. You were playing around, acting scared while you all knew one of you probably moved the planchette to Yes intentionally when Nicole asked if her ex’s hairline would start receding soon.
You had looked up some stuff on how to use it properly and had engaged in a quick discussion with ChatGPT about different supernatural topics then, that you resumed once your friends left.
“I um… actually tried to conjure some kimchi for fun,” you explain, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, scratching the back of your neck while looking at the floorboards instead of his face. “ChatGPT gave me instructions and I thought it's just some bullshit, you know.” You look up at him now, his brows in a slight frown before you go on, “Do you even know what ChatGPT is?”
Another contemptuous scowl. “Duh, of course. Where do you think it originated? One of my boss's better ideas to be honest.” A faint smile spreads on his face. “Making people even dumber while draining the worlds’ resources at the same time? Genius.”
Oh. When Nicole said AI was an invention straight from hell you didn't think she was literally correct.
“Anyway, I’m gonna head back now. You wasted enough of my designated lunch break. Don’t do that shit again, okay?”
“Do I not get three wishes or something, at least?”
He smirks, popping a middle finger at you all smug and snips his fingers. And then - nothing happens. Like, at all. He’s just standing there, staring at his right hand, then at the other one that’s still flipping you off and back at you with wide eyes. He drops his arms and snips again. Unsuccessfully.
“Um,” you grimace. “Was something supposed to happen, or?” Somehow his apparent performance issues are giving you second-hand embarrassment.
“Do you have stage fright?” You grin now, his cool demeanour visibly crumbling before you. “Just imagine me in my underwear or something if it helps.”
“Can you please shut up for a second?” he snaps at you.
You lift both your hands up in a dismissive apology, but decide to stop teasing him and keep quiet instead. Seems like something’s really off, he’s started pacing around the room now, circling the spilt fried rice still on the floor, while mumbling unintelligible words to himself. “What ritual did you perform exactly?” he suddenly asks, whirling around to face you.
You decide to finally leave your spot on the floor and just as you turn towards the couch for leverage, the demon reaches his hand out towards you to help you up, impatiently. You allow him to pull you up with a firm grip, the weirdly cold metal of his rings digging into your skin. “I um, I’m not really sure,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “Was my first ever ritual, you know?”
“Ugh, Christ,” he hisses, opening his palm in front of you. “Gimme your phone then. Fucking AI bullshit.”
“Are you even allowed to use that word?” you ask, earning you nothing but a stern look and a wiggle of his outstretched fingers. “Damn, here.” You unlock your phone, open the diabolical™️ app and hand it to him.
He reads the instructions, brows rising slightly as he takes in the information, then nods once. His eyes shoot up to yours, judging you. “You humans are going to need a step by step guide on how to breathe soon, too? Pathetic.”
You silently pray he's not going to scroll further up to find out the embarrassingly mundane things you looked up before and prove his point.
“Anything else?” you bite back, holding up your palm now, waiting for him to hand back your phone. “Found what you’re looking for?”
When he doesn’t answer you reach out and try to snatch it back from his grip, but he’s faster, moving it out of reach as he takes a step back. “Yes. And more.” He smirks now, reading your past conversations with ChatGPT out loud. “American jello salad recipe? Ew, don’t tell me you actually made that.”
“I did not,” you protest, chasing after him while trying to yank your phone away from him.
“‘Roast me based on everything you know about me’? You let it do that for free? Is that a special kind of humiliation kink you got going on there?”
“No, because I would love this situation at hand then, which I can promise you I do not!” You pout, defeated, which apparently looks pitiful enough for the demon to have mercy on you and finally hand you back your little gadget of shame.
At least now you know that he wasn't lying about being from hell. You lock your phone and pocket it as more embarrassment spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. That absolute spawn of Satan…
He doesn’t give you time to dwell on it though, as he’s looking around the living room and makes his way to the kitchen in the corner. “I need salt,” he says as he’s rummaging through your cabinets. “Do you mind?”
“You think now's the time for a snack?”
He scoffs, having found it himself before rolling his eyes at you.
“Would you stop bullshitting and grab some candles?” he demands, obviously in a hurry to get the fuck out of here.
Since you’re also keen on him leaving as soon as possible, or waking up from this weird dream you’re obviously having, you head for the drawer immediately. “How many do you need?” you ask. “Any scent you prefer?”
He stands in the middle of your living room, pack of salt in hand and yet another frown on his face. “Scent? I just need regular candles. Five of them.”
Who owns unscented candles…? You shrug to yourself, grabbing random ones to hand them over. “You’re gonna have to work with pumpkin spice and lavender fields I’m afraid.”
He’s struggling to hold all of them at once and starts placing the candles in a strange formation on the ground. Before putting the last one down though, he takes a closer look at the label. “Mountain lodge? Now what the fuck would that smell like…”
He brings the glass rim closer to his nose, immediately regretting his decision as his face scrunches up in disgust. With the corners of his mouth downturned, you can see him suppressing a gag.
“That one was a gift,” you lie, trying to justify that foul smelling candle.
“Sure,” he coughs out after collecting himself, holding the candle as far away from his face as the length of his arm allows. “Must have been a gift from your archenemy judging by that stench.”
“God, shut up.” You pick up a white candle from the floor - the one with the pretty lid - and bring it to his face. “Smell that one to even it out.”
He lifts a brow in suspicion, obviously not trusting you after being assaulted by mountain lodge, but leans in anyway. “Oh.”
“See?” you chuckle. “Fresh cotton. My favorite.”
“That one’s… alright, I guess.”
“It’s perfect. Not just alright.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles while snatching the candle out of your hand, giving it another sniff before setting it back down on the ground.
He nudges your shoulder to move you out of the way without an explanation. There's a snarky remark sitting readily on your tongue, but you decide to keep it to yourself for once, so you just huff and cross your arms across your chest, waiting to see what he's going to do next from the sidelines.
He starts pouring the salt on your (freshly vacuumed and wiped) hardwood floor, creating a pentagram out of the granules. Each point of the star touches a candle as he moves the bag of salt around in one fluid motion.
“So you just know that ritual by heart, or what?” you ask, tapping your foot impatiently.
“I mean yeah, that’s kind of my job.”
“Will this thing erupt into flames and ruin my floorboards? I just cleaned them today by the way. If I lose my deposit because of you, I’m gonna summon you again to pay for it.”
The demon stares you down now, dark eyes narrowing. “If you do that, I’ll burn down the entire apartment complex.”
He wouldn’t do that. Would he? Oh shit. “I-”
“Do you ever not talk?” he interrupts you, shuffling around in his salty star formation, wafting some of the grains across the floor from the movement. “Now let me finish this. Actually, go on and help me. Light the candles so I can concentrate on getting the hell out of here.”
You scurry to grab the lighter from a side table before moving around the room to ignite the wicks. Just as you are about to pick up the first one, fresh cotton, he interrupts you.
“Leave them on the floor, you'll mess up the formation.”
Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly comply and crouch down. The motherfucker is smirking, you can see it at the edge of your line of vision as you set the first candle aflame while he just stands there, hands in his pockets.
You scuffle about, lighting wick after wick until your lighter runs hot. So when you reach the last unlit candle, mountain lodge, you burn your thumb trying to roll the spark wheel. Hissing, you wave your hand around, trying to get the pain to subside. Fuck it, it's not like you're too stupid to put the candle back down in the same spot, so you grab it and straighten your legs back out to stand up.
“Did I not tell you to leave them on the ground?” the demon sighs and steps closer to you, once again brushing his hair out of his face. What an annoying habit.
“Ever thought about just cutting your hair?” With your thumb still hurting, you just can't get the damn lighter to spark a flame, making you increasingly frustrated.
He reaches for mountain lodge, but you're dead set on lighting the fucking candle yourself, so you refuse to let go, still struggling with the lighter in your other hand.
He just huffs and lets you hold on to it before he points his finger towards the wick, which immediately ignites as if by magic. The demon lifts the finger to his mouth and blows on it like a cowboy in a cheap western movie.
“Are you kidding me?” you groan. “You could do that the whole time and still had me crouching on the floor like an idiot?”
He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “You were so nice and quiet for once, all concentrated.”
Debating if you should knock him over the head with mountain lodge, you step closer, holding the burning candle directly under his nose.
“Fire doesn’t hurt me, if you’re trying to get back at me. The smell’s enough of a punishment though.” He opens up his palm. “Give me that.”
“Stop bossing me around. I'm perfectly capable of putting it down myself,” you retort and try to move the candle out of his reach.
“As capable as you were summoning kimchi?” he mocks, moving closer into your space to grip the stinky glass container.
Both too stubborn to let the other have their way, you scuffle around, pulling and pushing the candle between your hands.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters when he finally manages to snatch it from your fingers and bends down to place it back in the corner of the pentagram. “If you mess this up I’m going to have to start again from scratch!”
You just pout in defeat, watching him step into the middle of the formation and mumble unintelligible words with his eyes closed.
Guess this nuisance of a demon will finally piss off now. You already dread the clean up of the mess he made on the floor.
After a last brush through his hair - ugh - he snaps his fingers again. This time, something happens. A lot happens actually. The whole room spins and turns, whirling you around in a nauseating pace until you lose your footing. Oh shit, it’s not the room that’s spinning - it’s you! The candles are levitating around you, flying about and barely missing your head, while you writhe back and forth like a leaf caught in a storm. You close your eyes and scream, shielding your face with your arms. When an unknown objects hits your elbow, you reach out panicking - grabbing onto whatever you can with both hands. Something solid ends up in your left and something soft in your right. You don’t dare to open your eyes, so you just grip on for dear life in hopes to find your balance again.
You feel your right hand being squeezed as you try to convince yourself that this surely is just a nightmare. It has to be. Your own fingers tighten around whatever's in them, your mind too jumbled to figure out what you're even holding on to.
With a sudden thump there’s solid ground under your feet again. It takes you a second to comprehend that you have stopped being spun around. Your knees give out from under you but before you can fall down, you’re being pulled up by your hand to keep you steady. When you open your eyes with careful blinks, your vision blurry from pressing them shut for so long, you slowly come back to your senses. He’s there - whatever his name is - looking at you, lips agape in slight shock. You shake your head as if it’s going to make him disappear.
You are interrupted when you feel your fingers being squeezed, so hard it borders on painful, as warm metal pushes into your skin. It’s the damned rings of his, you realise when you look down. The rings that are around his fingers. The fingers that are intertwined with yours!
You immediately let go, yanking your hand out of his grip, as if the touch had burned you, at the same time also releasing whatever you were holding in your other, not having paid any mind to it until it hits the floor with a thud and rolls away.
“What the fuck?” you hear an unknown voice echo around you.
“What’s going on?” another voice sounds.
“Fuck, quick, get Namjoon,” someone calls out before you hear footsteps scurrying away.
As you turn around to see who the hell else is intruding on you in your apartment now, you catch on that you are in fact not at home anymore. What is this place? Where are you? And how in the world did you even get here? Panicked, you turn to the only set of eyes staring at you that you know, silently asking for an explanation, since the shock of apparently having just been teleported to fuck knows where left you speechless.
“Oh shit,” the demon whispers, eyes wide and hair disheveled, immediately reaching up to brush it out of his face once again. The familiarity of the irritating gesture somehow stops your mind from going in circles. At least one thing hasn’t changed, he’s still the annoying bitch he was a few minutes ago. You take a deep breath to ground yourself when you hear unintelligible mumbles getting closer to you, accompanied by hurried steps reverberating off the floorboards, making you whip around towards the direction of the sounds.
“Yoongi, what did you do this time?” the guy that's rushing into the room asks.
Okay, so the demon’s name is Yoongi. Strange. Cute. Doesn't fit him. You were expecting something along the lines of Beelzebub.
“Yeah, what did you do?” you demand to know, wanting nothing more than to get back home.
“Oh,” another person says. He’s tall and pretty and wears a lip piercing. “It can speak.” He looks at you with the same disdain that you return straight back to him, after what he just called you.
“It?” you repeat, shocked and on the verge of losing it. “Motherf-”
“Okay, everybody calm down!” The guy who just addressed your demon as Yoongi interrupts your squabble. “Jeongguk, sit down and be quiet.”
Jeongguk, the asshole, does as he’s told, scoffing and biting his lip as if he has to hold himself back from talking more shit. He's plopping down on a big leather couch, eyeing you as if your mere existence is offensive to him.
“You two,” the guy with the firm voice looks at you and Yoongi. “An explanation please.”
“What are you asking me for?” you snap back, pissed off by the implied accusation. “I have no idea what the fuck happened.”
“Me neither,” Yoongi sighs as he sits down next to Jeongguk, who scoots over to make room. “She summoned me by accident and I had to do the pentagram ritual to get back. She must have messed with it or something.”
“You think I tried to come with you or what?! I wanted you to fucking leave as much as you did. Maybe you messed up your weird candle routine!”
“Ah, so that’s what you dropped,” another stranger speaks as he bends down to reach for something beneath the coffee table. “I’m Hoseok, by the way.” He picks up the candle you apparently brought with you and inspects it closely. “Mountain lodge?”
“No, don’t!” Yoongi calls out, reaching out his arm in warning.
Too late, Hoseok sticks his nose into the candle. The room falls silent. His eyebrows rise. In delight?! “Wow, I love that! You mind if I keep it?”
Yoongi groans in disbelief.
“Um, sure,” you tell him. At least this one is somewhat polite.
“Thank you!” he says like he means it. “And what’s your name?”
You tell him, while the other five are still staring at you.
Finally having a second to take in your surroundings, you see that you landed in some kind of grand living room. The walls are made of exposed stone, the floorboards are wooden and look expensive but old and worn. Above you, there’s a giant chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Did you spawn into fucking Dracula’s castle?! Maybe Yoongi sleeps in a coffin, that would explain his shitty attitude. Do demons even sleep? Your mind starts to spiral again, panic threatening to take over.
Just as your head begins to spin, you are startled by someone gently touching your arm.
“Hey, calm down,” someone addresses you with a soft voice. You whip around and find the guy who stopped Jeongguk and you from getting into a fist fight. He's smiling at you, as if to reassure you. “My name’s Namjoon.”
Namjoon stands taller than Yoongi, his body more substantial in general. His hair is kind of spiky, tousled, and the ends are a bit lighter. He's dressed in a baggy sweater, but his jeans are fitted nicely to his thighs.
“You already had the pleasure with Yoongi and Jeongguk then,” he says with an exasperated raise of his brows. “Hoseok introduced himself by stealing your stuff, dashing as always.” Namjoon turns around, addressing the other two guys still standing behind him. “That leaves Jimin and Taehyung.”
They step closer, both with looks of quiet disbelief on their faces, yet the taller of the two at least forces a smile. He raises his hand and offers you a small wave. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”
God, he’s cute. His voice contrasts his looks, all soft and airy - not nearly as harsh as you would have expected it to be - considering his muscles, clad in black leather and silver chains.
You don't really know why he looks like he's one of the Village People, all the others are casually dressed. Maybe that's just his personal style. Or he's a biker.
“And I’m Jimin,” the last of them says with a nod of his head. His blonde hair is kind of fried from bleaching, long strands that fall to his shoulders, giving him an 80s glam rock vibe. Not in a bad way though, it really suits him. Actually, he looks quite ethereal.
Damn, why is everyone here good-looking? Even that dickhead Jeongguk, now that you give him another once-over.
“Want a picture for later?” he snarls at you with venom in his voice.
“For a voodoo doll, maybe, yeah,” you counter before Yoongi stops a fight from breaking out by slapping Jeongguk's shoulder.
“Just shut your bratty mouth for once, would you?” he grumbles and you’re not sure if he’s addressing Jeongguk or you. “Both of you, actually.”
Well, that solves that riddle. You pout, just like Jeongguk did earlier when he was told off.
“So,” Namjoon claps his hands together once, looking at you. “Now that we’re all acquainted, we should try bringing you back.”
“Okay, yes,” you nod. Finally someone is trying to solve this. “How?”
“Well, Yoongi brought you with him, so I figure one of us could just take you back the same way.”
Wait. They’re all like him? Demons? Is he serious? They seem to notice you catching on, watching you with amused expressions.
Jeongguk snorts. “Wow, quick thinker, huh?”
Jesus, does this idiot ever shut up?
“Okay, whatever, just get me home, please.”
Namjoon steps closer to you and holds out his hand. You grab it without hesitation because you just want to get the fuck out of here already. Let this nightmarish experience end.
“Just think of where you want to go,” he tells you and you immediately picture the comfort of your own living room.
He closes his eyes and before you can even blink, your hand is suddenly empty and Namjoon is gone. Nothing happened to you, no whirlwind sucking you away. You stare at your hand holding on to nothing before snapping your head back up.
The others perked up at this as well, eyeing each other silently. Shit, this doesn't bode well.
Yoongi sighs and gets up from the couch. Guess he'll try next. “Maybe it has to be me?”
He offers you his hand without looking at you.
Please, please let it work, you silently pray as you take hold of his palm. A second later - poof - Yoongi's gone too and you're still standing in that same spot. Desperation is taking over you at this point, tears threatening to well up at the thought that you're goddamn stuck here.
“Anyone else, please?!” you plead, looking around the room.
“Let’s wait till Yoongi and Joon come back,” Hoseok says while leading you to sit down on the couch where Jeongguk makes an act of dramatically scooting away as far as possible from you.
“Just for a bit, and then we will try too, okay?” Hoseok pats your arm somewhat awkwardly.
“Don't worry, we don't want you to stay here either,” Jeongguk chimes in, picking at his cuticles like he has no care in the world.
“You want a drink while we wait?” Taehyung asks with his hands in his pockets. “Or something to eat?”
No, you really don’t want a drink, you want to go home, and your appetite for kimchi from earlier has vanished the second Yoongi appeared before you.
You put your head in your hands and just lift your eyes again when Taehyung puts a glass of what you guess is water down in front of you anyway with an apologetic smile.
“Hey,” Jimin addresses you now, pulling you out of your wallowing. “It’s gonna be fine, they'll figure it out, alright?”
“Where are we right now exactly?” you ask, already dreading the answer and that they're probably not going to be able to drive you home with a car either.
“Guess,” Jeongguk grins. “Look out the window if you must.”
With him there, it's got to be your own personal hell, you think while trying to locate a window. When your eyes finally snap to a glass panel in the stone wall, all you see is black. You try to focus on the outside and realise there are what look to be flames or a fire in the distance. The darkness is tinged slightly orange by it.
“You’re trying to tell me this is real?” you ask. “You’re all demons and we’re in literal hell?”
“Home sweet home, baby,” Jeongguk merely chuckles at your misery.
You’d slap him if you weren’t so close to tears. What did you do to deserve this? Yes, you’ve probably sinned a lot, but not more than anyone else and certainly less than some people you know. And you don’t even believe in the concept of sin. Why you?
You'll never use ChatGPT again. That fuckass app. Maybe it's actually the downfall of humanity.
You groan in defeat, face buried in your hands, when Namjoon and Yoongi suddenly pop back into the room. Everyone looks at them in suspense, eyeing them expectantly.
“It’s not looking good,” Namjoon exhales as he dusts off his shoulder with a flick of his hand.
Not looking good? What does that mean? Not good as in eternal hellfire, or more like a few hours of being grilled?
“Not good, meaning what exactly?” Jeongguk speaks your thoughts into existence. “Don’t tell me we are stuck with that stray.” To give his words more weight, he looks you up and down with disgust.
As much as you’d like to call him a bitch right now, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about what he’s saying. You need to know what the two found out in your apartment.
Namjoon disperses the hostile moment when he finally starts to explain what they learned.
“You two smudged the salt on the floor. Yoongi told me you bickered about something, maybe one of you messed with the pentagram then. That must be why the ritual went all kinds of wrong,” he concludes.
Yoongi meets your eye and you look at each other sternly for a moment. You know he wants to blame you, just as much as you have him to blame. But since everyone here would probably be on his side anyway, you decide to be the bigger person for once and don’t announce your thoughts. “Okay, um,” you begin. “So is there another way I can be brought back?”
“Not that we know of,” Yoongi shakes his head.
“The others should try bringing you back too though, just so we can be sure,” Namjoon says. “If it doesn’t work, which I expect, I’ll have to figure out a different solution.”
“Okay, well, who's up next?” you stand up and ask into the room, impatient. You are already holding out your hand to be grabbed by whoever when Hoseok, the mountain lodge enthusiast, takes hold of it.
“Let’s try this again,” he half-smiles at you, not really convincing you that his outlook’s that optimistic either, but you are still somewhat thankful for his hesitant reassurance.
When Hoseok also vanishes without you, you cry out in frustration before waving your fingers at Jimin.
“Your turn, please,” you urge him to have a go, all hope you had to go home slowly dissipating.
While Hoseok reappears with a sigh, Jimin reaches for your hand.
“Please get me out of here,” you whisper with tears in your eyes now. Jimin grimaces at your words, obviously not anticipating a better outcome, but he tries nonetheless. To no avail, as you find out a second later when he too leaves you standing there with empty fingers.
Taehyung steps closer before you say anything, a boyish smile on his face with his eyes looking at the floor. “I’ll try, promise,” he says as he gently takes your hand in his.
You hear a quiet swish and he's gone too. Fuck. Him and Jimin return a moment later and you realise that your last chance at going home is sulking on the sofa, checking out his nailbeds again.
“Don’t be an ass,” Hoseok scoffs at Jeongguk's behaviour and pulls him from the couch.
“Ugh, fine,” he complies with a roll of his eyes, moving as slowly as he possibly can.
For someone who wants you to leave as urgently as he announced, he’s really not putting in any effort to make it happen. When he stretches out his hand with his face turned to the side, looking at Namjoon and not you, you think that you should probably send him to a dumpster instead of your living room. You swallow down a laugh as you think of that place and imagine him coming back covered in dirt, a banana peel on his shoulder and twigs sticking out from his hair.
Jeongguk pulls back his hand from you, squinting at you in abhorrence. “Can’t imagine your place looks that much different,” he says with a shake of his head. “But actually, fuck off. You just blew your last chance.”
He turns around on his heels and stomps out of the room. You can hear a door being slammed shut in the distance. Fucking brat.
“What did you do?” Jimin asks.
“Thought about sending him to a dumpster, but only for a second,” you explain. “It just came to me because he’s so mean and annoying. I wasn’t really going to do it.”
Someone snorts, Taehyung you think, as you turn around to check and find him grinning with his head turned away from the others.
“I doubt it would have worked anyway,” Yoongi says. “Even if you hadn't pissed him off.”
Wait a moment. How did Jeongguk even know you were contemplating sending him to a garbage dump?
“Don’t tell me Jeongguk can read my mind. He can’t, right?!” You look around between the others, scared.
“Nah,” Yoongi sighs. “It’s just when travelling. Or trying to. We can see the desired destination of the other person if we’re not picturing it ourselves.”
Why is all that demon shit so god damn complicated? And what does that mean now? You’re stuck here, in hell, with all those imps, until the tallest demon figures ‘something’ out?
A wave of nausea washes over you before your knees give out and you crumble to the floor, panic taking over again. You can't hold back your tears now anymore either, they roll down your cheeks in streams while you hyperventilate. This can't be true.
Someone is crouching next to you, stroking your back, no doubt in an attempt to get you to calm down. How the fuck are you supposed to calm down when you're imprisoned in literal hell? And what about Lucy? He’ll starve without you!
“My cat!” you wail. “My cat’s still up there. He’ll die, oh my god, my baby will die.”
“Breathe,” you hear Jimin next to you, his hand still on your back. “He’s going to be fine. We, uh, we can go and pick him up.”
You slump forward on to your hands, exhausted but relieved at Jimin’s words. “You can?” you ask, sniffling and trying to catch your breath.
“Sure,” he nods, looking around at the others. “We wanted to get ourselves a pet anyway.”
“I can get him,” Taehyung says. “Boss, will you come too? You’re always good with animals.”
“Yeah, okay,” Yoongi exhales quietly.
Yoongi is their boss? Or is that just a stupid nickname? You eye him, shorter and of less substance than all the others. Huh. You assumed Namjoon was their demon leader. He seems like the brain of this clan.
“Why haven’t I seen a cat in your apartment though?” Yoongi asks you.
“Because he doesn’t like men, usually hides under the couch when strangers are there and his fur is black.”
“Ah, perfect,” he sighs. “Anything else we should know? What’s his name?”
“You should be able to lure him out with treats from the cabinet above the fridge. He likes to be picked up with a hand under his belly. Hold him so that his front paws can rest on your shoulder. He doesn’t like to be held like a baby. And his name is Lucy.”
“Lucy? For a male cat?”
Oh god. You didn't even realise until now. “Um yeah. It’s short for… Lucifer.”
“Of course it is.”
Taehyung actually throws his head back and laughs wholeheartedly at this revelation.
“You got a thing for devilish stuff, huh?” Jimin grins.
Taehyung is still giggling when he links his arm with Yoongi and they once again vanish into thin air.
Hoseok helps you off the floor and walks you into another room while you wipe the tear stains off your cheeks with your sleeve. He sits you down at a big dining table, surrounded by seven chairs.
“Do you like kimchi fried rice?” he asks you. “Jeongguk made some earlier. You must be hungry from all that excitement.”
You want to decline at first but then your stomach audibly growls. Maybe you are hungry. “Thank you,” you quietly say before Hoseok steps out.
Namjoon enters the room, your glass of water from earlier in hand and puts it down in front of you before he takes a seat as well. “I’m gonna try to find out how we can fix this as soon as possible, alright?”
You nod and look at the glass in front of you, hesitant to take a sip. Who knows what kind of stuff they have instead of normal water here?
“It’s safe to consume,” Namjoon chuckles. “I swear.”
You pick it up, trying to sniff it discreetly, so as not to offend him. When you can’t make out any weird odour, you take a tentative sip. Only now do you notice how parched you are. Dried up like a raisin actually, so you gulp the rest of the water down in one go.
“Can I ask you something?” you direct at Namjoon. “I have so many questions actually.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why are you all… or most of you, actually nice to me? I thought a demon’s job would be torturing people and stuff.”
Namjoon laughs softly, shaking his head. “We do have jobs. It’s not exactly torturing though. And we were people too, once. So we’re not born evil or anything, if that’s what you thought.”
Okay, that makes sense. Jeongguk was probably a huge asshole as a human too. “What is your job then?”
“Collecting souls.”
Oh. So that’s why Yoongi knew it wasn’t your time yet. “That means… killing people?”
“Sometimes. Mostly it’s just convincing stupid people to do more stupid stuff though. And then pluck their souls and bring them down here.”
“Okay.” You listen intently with raised eyebrows.
“It’s pretty shitty people overall though. Sinners. Boss doesn’t have much need for decent souls here. They don’t fuel the fire as well.”
“Boss as in Yoongi?”
“No, boss as in Yoongi’s boss.”
“The devil then?”
“A kind of devil. There’s levels of management so to speak.”
Oh god. Corporate even reaches down to hell. Typical. Actually, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve learned.
“What’s this boss’s name then?”
“Bang Si-hyuk.”
Okay, that doesn’t tell you anything. You nod anyway.
“People call him Bang PD sometimes.”
“PD for… Prime Devil?”
Namjoon laughs, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.
“So that makes Yoongi mid-management, then?”
“I guess, yeah.”
Oh, the guy has it bad…
“Okay, another question please.”
Namjoon nods, amused.
“Are all of you Korean?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He looks at you with a raised brow.
“Sorry if that was offensive. But like… I don’t know how to word it better. Why are the only people in hell Korean?”
“We’re not the only people in hell,” he tells you with a lopsided grin. “We’re just a department that happens to be Korean. The Japanese are down the road actually.”
Oh. You landed yourself in corporate hell. Great. As if you haven't been trying to avoid just that at all costs your entire adulthood.
“Anything else you want to know?”
You hesitate, wondering if you're about to cross a line. But you're just too curious.
“How did all of you end up down here, working for the devil?”
Namjoon sighs and you can tell he's trying to find the right words.
“Let's just say we were young and dumb, we made mistakes in the past. Trusted the wrong people. Got caught in a contract we can’t get out of,” he sputters out before he stands up from his chair, turning towards the door just as Hoseok returns with a bowl of steaming food.
Guess that concludes the Q&A then. Namjoon’s been so forthcoming with answering all your questions, you feel a little bad for making him uncomfortable with that last inquiry. “Thank you for your patience,” you tell him while a delicious-looking dish of kimchi fried rice is placed in front of you.
“This has been a lot,” Hoseok states while sitting down next to you. “Eat. It will make you feel better.”
You pick up the chopsticks and shove a bite into your mouth. It's delicious. So Jeongguk is good for something after all. Maybe that's why they tolerate his attitude.
Hoseok smiles, watching you clear the bowl down to the last kernel of rice. “JK’s a great cook. I know he's been giving you shit, but please don't take it to heart.”
“Why is he such an ass anyway?” you ask Hoseok after swallowing down your last bit of food.
Hoseok laughs. “Don't know if you can tell, but emotions are on another level here. You get used to it after a while, but Jeongguk still struggles with anger from time to time. The trust issues aren’t helping either unfortunately.”
So, a demon with anger problems that obviously does not like you. Lovely combination.
“From what I saw, you can handle him though,” he concludes.
“Are you calling me a bitch?” you chuckle.
“No, girl, I'm calling you feisty.”
It's the first time you feel some semblance of ease since you landed down here. The relaxation only lasts a second though as you hear a thump from the living room. Both of you get up to investigate, as the sounds surprise you.
When you step into the room, Yoongi and Taehyung are standing there, surrounded by what seems to be every single cat toy you had in your apartment as well as a bag of litter granules and dozens of cans of food. Oh, that's why their return was so noisy. The cat food is rolling around on the floor, some of it is still in Taehyung's arms.
“Boss insisted on bringing all this stuff back with us,” he grimaces as he watches more things slip from his grip and tumble away.
At first, you don't see Lucy, wondering if they left him up there for a second. When you take a closer look at Yoongi though, you spot your cat, nestled against his chest, paws on his left shoulder, just as you instructed. Yoongi apparently swaddled his Hawaiian print shirt over Lucy, so he wouldn’t jump off immediately, one arm wrapped around his little body for support. He’s gripping the cat bed you had sitting beside your couch in his other hand, letting it fall to the ground to scratch Lucy’s chin. The damn cat is purring. He never let a man get close before and now he’s purring at a mid-management demon? Traitor. The name definitely fits.
Yoongi smiles at their newfound pet before his soft expression fades when he notices you watching him.
“Huh, Lucy likes you,” you mumble.
“Told you he's good with pets,” Tae comments while picking up stray cans around the room.
Yoongi doesn’t acknowledge the praise and shrugs before carefully setting Lucy down on the ground. The cat chirps and his tail quivers for a second until he spots you and runs over happily, as if he hadn’t just been sucked down to the pits. You crouch down and let him rub his cheek against your knee, petting him behind his ears and earning a deep purr.
“So cute,” Hoseok gushes while reaching out his hand to let Lucy smell him.
You're so relieved to have your cat back with you, tears are welling up in your eyes. You shoot up from the floor and without thinking you throw your arms around Taehyung's neck.
“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you cry into his shoulder before realising what you are doing and immediately retreat from the embrace.
Taehyung doesn't seem bothered by your surprise hug at all as he's just smiling, but you are still embarrassed by your outburst. With heated cheeks, you turn to Yoongi, nodding at him. “Thank you, really.”
Yoongi nods back, not quite meeting your eyes with his brows set in a weird expression of second-hand embarrassment before clearing his throat. “No problem.”
“Guess I'll put those in the pantry,” Taehyung announces, multiple cans stacked in his arms before walking out.
Namjoon and Jimin enter the living room at the same time. “Kitty!” Jimin squeals loudly, which scares Lucy who immediately flees the premises and hides under the sofa. “Oh, sorry.”
“Come on, let's figure out some logistics,” Namjoon waves at you and leads Jimin with him by his shoulder, moving towards the dining room.
“Just go with the others, I'll get him out from under the couch,” Yoongi dismisses you just as you are about to get down to the floor yourself.
“You don’t have to, I can get him,” you begin but he’s already kneeling, peeking under there with his head twisted and his hand outstretched. That guy loves cats, huh? Despite the fact that you hate being stuck here with your accidentally conjured up demon boss, you can’t deny how cute he looks when he acts like this. He even makes those ‘pspsps’ noises and you chuckle watching him.
His head whips around at your giggling and he glares at you. “Shoo,” he orders you to finally go join the others.
Okay, he’s back to his very annoying self. Rolling your eyes at him, you turn away and trudge to the dining room.
When you walk up to the table, Namjoon, Taehyung and Jimin are already sitting down. You move to take the seat next to Namjoon, when Hoseok comes up and stops you with a hand on your arm.
“That's Yoongi's spot,” he explains and only then do you notice that you went for the chair at the head of the table.
Oh, so they have like a proper hierarchy with rules and everything.
“Since Jin’s chair is free now, you can take his,” Namjoon tells you as he’s pointing to the one next to Yoongi’s.
Who the hell is Jin now? And what happened to him? You add it to the ever growing list of questions for later.
“I'm not going to lie, it might take me a while to find a way to get you back home,” Namjoon sighs once everyone's seated. “It's the first time we've run into this issue and I have to work through tons of literature.”
“What exactly do I have to expect in terms of a while?” you ask him, already worried you might not like the answer.
“Wish I could tell you. We actually have a spare room now, so I think it's best if you make yourself at home for now. Hoseok can show you.”
That means you’re probably not going to be able to show up at work on Monday. Which is not the worst fate to be honest. But what if it takes them months to figure it out? Will your friends and family think you got kidnapped? Will there be a police search? Fuck, your hands are getting clammy. “Okay,” you breathe out. “What about people at home worrying? They’ll think I died or got abducted or something.”
“Phones work here,” Namjoon says. “You should be able to call your family. Maybe don’t mention where you really are though. They’ll think you’ve lost it.”
You just look at him, dumbstruck until Taehyung chimes in, “Don’t act so surprised. Did you think we’re cavemen? We even have Netflix.”
“How? Just… how is that possible?” you ask.
Namjoon grins, “CEOs love to make deals with the devil. Anything’s possible in hell.”
You are interrupted trying to wrap your head around big corporations shaking hands with Satan when Yoongi enters the room, Lucy once again purring in his arms.
“Stubborn, that one,” he lets you know.
“Just like his owner,” you hear him mutter when he walks past you to get to his chair.
Lucy curls up in his lap when he sits down, all cozy, nuzzled up to him.
You ignore his comment and look at your traitorous cat for a moment before it suddenly dawns on you. Why do they all speak English so flawlessly? Is that a demon trait? Or are you being biased and rude again?
“I have another question. If you don't mind,” you quietly say while trying to find the most inoffensive way to word this. “How come all of you speak English so well?”
Well, that wasn't inoffensive at all. Shit. Your brows knit into a frown as you cringe at yourself. “Sorry.”
“We don't,” Jimin tells you. “I mean.. actually we do but it's complicated.”
“We speak most common languages,” Namjoon begins to explain. “Even Latin to some extent. That's one of the ‘gifts’ we got when signing our contracts. But right now, we're actually speaking in Korean.”
Huh? No they're not. How would you be able to understand them then?
“It's a spell,” Yoongi says with one elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand while petting Lucy with the other. “I didn't really feel like talking in English to you earlier when you summoned me.”
“So you put a translation spell on me?” you ask, honestly more intrigued than shocked. “Do I speak Korean in your heads then?”
“Uh huh,” Hoseok nods. “Flawlessly too.”
Wow okay. So they have powers in addition to being able to fucking teleport. They speak a million languages and have demonic powers and live in hell. This is totally fine and normal and you shouldn't be disturbed at all.
“You want me to show you your room now?” Hoseok asks, apparently noticing that you need a minute to process all of this. “I'll help you carry the cat stuff.”
He's already scurrying to collect the strewn about stuff Yoongi and Taehyung brought with them when you get up. You walk over to Yoongi to get Lucy, who's still contently chilling on him. It's a little awkward because you have to pick him up straight from Yoongi's crotch, which makes your heartbeat pick up a confusing notch.
“Sorry,” you mumble while very deliberately and carefully maneuvering your hands around his lap, trying to avoid touching him in an inappropriate manner. Even though it's suddenly very tempting. Are you actually getting horny now for no reason? Hello?!
Yoongi just raises his eyebrows at you but doesn't say anything when you move Lucy off him without looking at him.
Hoseok peeks in from behind the doorframe with a big toothy smile. “Come on Ari,” he invites you to follow him.
Ari? You have to ask him about that later.
He leads you upstairs and through a hallway with multiple doors to the sides, until he stops in front of the last one.
“There we are,” he says. “Yoongi's is right next to yours. Me and all the others are also just a few doors down.”
He lets you into the room, putting Lucy's cushion down at the foot of the big bed while you look around. It doesn't look lived in, but it's not dusty at all. It looks freshly prepared for a guest actually, pillows all fluffed up and there's even a potted plant sitting on the windowsill, green and healthy.
Hoseok looks slightly surprised too.
“Oh. Must've been Yoongi.”
“He cleans?” you wonder out loud. They have Yoongi clean the rooms? If so, they have their boss well trained.
“Not exactly,” Hoseok chuckles without giving any further explanations. Instead, he arranges Lucy's toys on the dresser.
“I'll leave you to get comfortable,” he bids you farewell. “I'll come and get you for dinner.”
You plop Lucy down onto the duvet before checking out the room further.
The curtains are closed and when you pull them open, the same darkness from before looks back at you, straight into your soul.
Before the feeling of dread can take over, you put the fabric back to cover the soulcrushing black void up and turn your back to the window.
There’s another door next to the dresser and when you open it, you find a nice little en-suite bathroom, complete with a bathtub, shower, a toilet and a sink. You can work with that. There’s even a simple litter box for Lucy in the corner. Did they have a cat before?
Sighing, you sit down on the bed next to Lucy, scratching his ears.
“Where did we land ourselves, huh?” you whisper to him while he snuggles up against your hand.
The whole thing is absolutely crazy, you realise once again… Demons are real, you got sucked down to hell and now you’re stuck in this ancient mansion with six Korean soul pluckers. Maybe you had a mental breakdown and are just going through psychosis or hallucinations at the moment. If not, hopefully Namjoon and the others will figure out how to bring you back home quickly. It could have been worse though. At least they seem to be willing to try and help you. They could have abandoned you and just kicked you out, now that you’re thinking about it. You shudder at the thought of being out there in that eerie darkness by yourself. Or in general.
And they made an effort to get Lucy. Demons really aren’t what you imagined them to be. But you also thought they didn't exist. And they are all attractive as fuck. Gosh, the bar is literally in hell.
You let yourself fall back and land on the cushions with a soft thud. Are you actually just supposed to sit around and watch Netflix until you can go home? You might ask them for some books to read. Maybe they have a copy of ‘Hell for Dummies’. This gothic mansion definitely has a library. Or is that a cliché?
There are so many questions whirling through your head again, questions that google probably cannot answer. Thinking of it, you pull out your phone to check if it really works, like Namjoon told you. And he was right. There's a signal. Stronger than in your apartment actually. Which is quite embarrassing.
Okay, so you should think of a story to tell your family and friends then. Maybe some quarter-life crisis that led you to leave the country for a while. A self-discovery journey. Something non-concerning. Thailand?
Laying there with Lucy cuddled up to you, you can feel your eyes grow heavy. You didn't even notice how exhausted you are. With one last sigh your eyelids flutter shut and you doze off. Maybe when you open them the next time, this will all be over and you will wake up in your bed.
A knock rips you from your restless slumber, you've been tossing and turning on the mattress, waking up facing a totally different direction than you feel asleep in.
“We'll have dinner soon,” Hoseok's voice sounds through the door. “Come join us.”
Still a little out of it from your unplanned nap, you sit up, brushing through your hair with your fingers and rubbing your eyes. So you didn't magically teleport back home while you slept.
When you get up to walk to the dining room, Lucy hops down from the bed to follow you. The smell of something hearty draws you closer quickly - it must be some kind of stew or soup that’s cooking in the kitchen. You’re not really hungry thanks to the kimchi fried rice from earlier but the aroma surely whets your appetite.
“What's cookin’ good lookin’?” you hear Jimin sing-song as he prances into the kitchen just as you walk up to the dining table and your newly assigned seat.
Lucy strides through the room like he owns the place and follows Jimin, apparently also drawn by the smell.
“Oh my god, who's this cutie? Where did you come from?” you hear Jeongguk squeal excitedly. Lucy answers him with loud meows, surely to get him to drop some food.
“Lucy, don't beg,” you call for your cat, walking up to the kitchen.
"It's yours?” Jeongguk asks, the excitement from a second ago gone from his face. Instead, he looks at you with a sour expression before stomping past you to the dining room.
“Is she moving in now or what?” he snarls, accusing eyes boring holes into Yoongi.
“What, you’d rather have us kick her out?” Jimin asks him in disbelief.
“Um, yeah?!”
“Sorry about him,” Jimin sheepishly shuffles up to you and pats your shoulder. “He surely doesn't mean it,” he adds while heavily side-eying Jeongguk.
Yoongi plants both hands on the dinner table before taking a seat, looking up at Jeongguk through the strands of his hair that have fallen over his eyes. “She didn’t choose to be here, relax. Now stop acting like a fucking brat and fix your god damn attitude.”
You're taken aback by Yoongi's stern words for Jeongguk, you didn't expect him to intervene like that. And somehow you are also turned on by it. Like, really turned on. To the point of feeling your panties moisten as you watch him brush the hair out of his face. This whole thing must be really messing with your head. You were so annoyed by that gesture just a few hours ago and now you have to stop yourself from jumping him.
“How about you get back to cooking, Gguk?” Hoseok interrupts the heated moment. "I'm basically starving."
It seems like Jeongguk wants to keep bitching, more provocation already on the tip of his tongue, but then he apparently decides against it, as his shoulders slump down in defeat and he retreats to the stove, Lucy following closely behind. Yoongi's eyes track him leaving the room before he leans back in his chair at the head of the table sighing.
You slide into your designated seat next to him and mutter a quiet “Thanks”, that he definitely hears but doesn't acknowledge.
“I um,” you clear your throat. “I’m actually not that hungry, so if you want, I could go to my room, so Jeongguk can cool off for a bit?”
“Nonsense,” Jimin says from his spot at the table. “He will deal.”
Your offer was sincere but you are glad to stay, the heavenly smell of Jeongguk's cooking wafting over. Leaning back in your chair, you glance through the doorway and see him crouching next to Lucy, scratching his head. At least he’s nice to someone.
A few minutes later, Jeongguk returns with a big steaming pot of stew and sets it in the middle of the table. Taehyung had already brought in a dish of rice to go with it.
Before you can argue, Yoongi grabs the bowl in front of you and serves you some of the soup.
“Well,” he raises an eyebrow at you when you just stare at the food in front of you. “Dig in.”
“Yeah, noona,” Jeongguk teases you with a mean smirk. “Go ahead. I swear I didn't poison it.”
You didn't think he did, but after he said it, you wonder if maybe you should have worried about it, looking around the table until you lock eyes with Yoongi.
He just rolls his eyes, with a half-smirk. “He wouldn’t dare.”
The others start eating so you do the same.
Only Jimin is poking around his bowl, never really picking anything up. Maybe he doesn't like pork. Which seems to offend Jeongguk as he’s glaring at Jimin from across the table.
“Okay so,” Namjoon mumbles mid bite. “I’m sure you came up with more things to ask? Because we also have some rules to put down with you being here and all.”
“I don’t think there’s enough time for all the questions I have, to be honest,” you tell him. “I guess I’ll make a list. There’s one thing though. Who’s room did I move into? I was wondering why you had a guest room but someone mentioned earlier I can take ‘Jin’s’ chair. So I assume that it was his? Will he be back eventually?”
Namjoon clears his throat. “Oh, yeah, um it was Jin’s. He’s one of us but he… he’s gone. You could say he’s watching over us from above now.”
Oh no.
Suddenly, Hoseok gets out of his seat, mumbling a choked up apology to the group and hurries out of the room.
Shit, you shouldn't have brought up Jin. But how were you supposed to know he died? “I’m so sorry,” you call after Hoseok. “My condolences.”
“Wha- no!” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s not dead. He’s back on earth, living his best life.”
You whip around to face Namjoon. “Well, you really could have worded this differently then!”
“Great, now you upset Hobi,” Jeongguk scoffs but shuts up immediately when Yoongi shoots him a warning look.
He's right though. For once.
“I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. But, I have to ask. How come all of you stay down here if you could just live on earth?”
“We can't,” Jeongguk chuckles bitterly.
“Yeah, that's a bit of a longer story. Maybe one for another day. It's kind of a lucky coincidence though that we have a spare bedroom you can use,” Namjoon changes the topic.
“If we didn't have one, you could have just stayed in mine. No problem,” Taehyung smiles at you and you are unsure on how to take this.
“Orrrr,” Namjoon glares at him for the dumb comment. “We could have just conjured up an additional one, you know, with the powers that Yoongi has?”
“Chill, I didn’t mean it like that,” Taehyung spits back. “You know I don’t like sleeping alone.”
“Yes, I’m painfully aware of that. But she isn't. Don't make her think we're total perverts."
Taehyung chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t make her think we aren’t.”
You choke on your stew so bad that Jimin gets up to slap your back.
“Relax,” he laughs.
“While we're on the topic of your room,” Namjoon starts up again. “I think Hoseok mentioned it to you already, but emotions are really heightened down here. Maybe you have figured this out already. Anyway, it would be best if you stayed in your room at night, by yourself. And during the day too maybe, until you’ve grown accustomed to it.”
“What, are you scared I'm going to get into a fist fight with Jeongguk?” you joke.
“Um, no, but is that something I have to worry about as well?” Namjoon looks sincerely troubled by the idea. “When I say heightened emotions, that also includes… arousal. That one’s actually the strongest for unknown reasons.”
“He’s trying to say that hell makes everyone unreasonably horny,” Jimin smirks. “The first few months of us all being here were beyond crazy.”
“Yes, you can also word it like that I guess. Like the other emotions, we got a better grip on it over time. But with you being here now, I don't really know what to expect. We usually don't have visitors. And I also don't know how heavily this affects you. Since you’re still human and all. I haven’t concluded my research on it yet, but I am pretty sure you’re not immune to it,” Namjoon babbles on.
“I like to call it the horn from hell,” Taehyung chuckles to himself.
Is this some kind of joke? Are you hearing this correctly? You turn to the others and when your gaze lands on Yoongi, he’s immediately looking away but you can tell that his cheeks are flushed.
Now that you think back to the past hours and the emotional rollercoaster you went through, it does make more sense than you just randomly getting horny during the weirdest traumatic event of your entire existence.
“So yeah, until we figure out how to handle… this… please just stay in your room as much as you can,” Namjoon concludes the topic. “At least for now, and, tonight.”
So they knew you were horny the entire time? This is mortifying. Maybe you will stay in your room for the rest of eternity actually.
“I guess dinner’s done then. Jimin and I will do the dishes and then we can all hop into the shower,” Taehyung chimes.
“Can you wash my hair tonight?” Jimin gleefully addresses Yoongi now, who just sighs but nods at the same time.
“I’ll get Hoseok then,” Namjoon announces and stands up.
“Huh?” you can’t hide your confusion. Is your room the only one with an en-suite? They surely can't all fit into one bathroom?
Jeongguk just looks at you like you’re stupid, but his mouth is pulled into an amused smirk.
“Do I… want to know?” you carefully ask.
Yoongi sighs again but finally lifts his head to look at you. “Yeah, we wash up together. Didn’t start out with a whole mansion. It was more like a shitty dorm when we were still trainee demons. With bunk beds and communal showers.”
“Had to work our way up to individual rooms and Yoongi didn’t have his powers yet,” Namjoon explains further.
“And once we all had our own bathrooms we realised pretty soon that we miss showering together. So we kept the communal showers downstairs and use it most nights,” Jimin adds.
“It’s nice,” Taehyung says. “You can join if you want to.”
“Taehyung please,” Namjoon groans and swats the back of his head as he’s leaving the dining room.
You find yourself intrigued, actively trying to stop the picture of all of them together, naked and wet, from popping into your head, actually considering agreeing with Taehyung for a moment. Okay, this horn from hell really is a force to be reckoned with. “Maybe another time,” you joke and they all stare at you.
“Please, just go to your room,” Yoongi tells you, facing away, as he stands up with one hand rubbing his neck. “Now.”
Hell Yeah Masterlist | Masterlist | > Next
A/n: omg karen you can't just ask people why they're korean..
Thank you for reading :) How'd you like hell? Interaction in any form is highly appreciated, we'd be so happy to receive your feedback and if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask.
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
paining: brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)
>>english is not my first language
chapter 7 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
You decide to meet Yoongi after he finally realizes that calling you would be far more effective than flooding your phone with endless apologetic text messages. Hearing his voice on the other end of the line feels strangely unfamiliar after everything that happened, yet there is something undeniably sincere in the hesitation that lingers between his words. After a brief conversation, you reluctantly agree to see him, deciding it would be safer for him to come to your apartment rather than meeting somewhere outside. The thought of accidentally running into Sophie again immediately twists your stomach into knots, and the possibility of crossing paths with Jungkook is even worse. You don’t think you could handle another confrontation.
The entire afternoon passes at an agonizingly slow pace. You keep finding yourself glancing at the clock, wondering whether agreeing to this had been a mistake. Part of you wants to hear what Yoongi has to say, but another part still remembers every single word he threw at you that day. Words spoken in anger may disappear into thin air, but they have a cruel habit of lingering inside the person they were directed at.
When the doorbell finally rings, the sudden sound echoes through the apartment much louder than it normally would, startling you from your thoughts.
Layla immediately jumps off the couch, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She flashes you a dramatic thumbs-up before quietly disappearing into her bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind her as though she knows the conversation you’re about to have isn’t meant for anyone else’s ears.
You shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the small laugh escaping your lips. Even in tense situations, Layla somehow always manages to lighten the atmosphere, if only for a brief second.
Taking a slow breath, you make your way to the entrance and open the door.
Yoongi stands there with his hands tucked awkwardly inside the pockets of his pants. He looks exhausted, the faint shadows beneath his eyes suggesting he hasn’t been sleeping much either. His usually composed expression has softened into something much more vulnerable, almost uncertain.
“Hello” he says quietly.
“Hi” you answer, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in.”
He nods with a faint murmur of gratitude before slipping off his shoes and following you into the living room.
Neither of you knows how to begin.
You both sit down on the couch, leaving a polite distance between yourselves. Your hands rest awkwardly against your thighs while Yoongi leans forward slightly, his fingers nervously intertwined. The silence stretching between you isn’t hostile, but it certainly isn’t comfortable either. It carries the weight of everything that has been left unsaid, every misunderstanding and every regret that neither of you has fully processed.
Yoongi is the first to break it.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you probably don’t want to hear me out, and I honestly appreciate that you agreed to see me.”
You press your lips together, fighting the urge to smile despite yourself. Watching him avoid your gaze feels oddly endearing. In moments like this, it’s almost impossible to remember that he’s several years older than you. He suddenly seems far less intimidating than usual, almost like a little kid who’s just been scolded by their mother.
You know exactly who Yoongi is.
You know he is a good person. He’s been there for you more times than you can count, offering quiet support without ever asking for anything in return. He’s easily become one of the people you trusted the most, which is precisely why his words hurt so deeply. Betrayal stings the most when it comes from someone whose opinion genuinely matters.
You don’t interrupt him.
Instead, you simply nod, silently encouraging him to continue. You can tell from the way his shoulders remain tense that he hasn’t said everything weighing on his heart.
“I never wanted to hurt you Y/n…” he says after taking a deep breath. “I need you to know that I care about you. I really do. You’re my friend, and I value you more than I’ve probably ever said out loud. Seeing Sophie again… it hit me a lot harder than I expected. I know that’s not an excuse, and I’m not asking you to pretend it is. I just… I completely lost control. I let my emotions get the best of me, and you ended up paying the price for something that had nothing to do with you.”
This time he finally forces himself to meet your eyes. The hope you find in them almost catches you off guard. He’s waiting for some kind of reaction, even if it’s anger.
When none comes, his expression gradually falls. His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly as doubt slowly replaces hope. He shifts uncomfortably where he’s sitting, interpreting your silence as confirmation that perhaps he’s already ruined everything beyond repair.
“…Alright.” he whispers.
The word barely reaches your ears.
He slowly stands, giving you a small nod as though accepting a punishment he believes he deserves. Without another word, he turns toward the door, convinced that there’s nothing left to say.
“You were an asshole, Yoongi.”
Your voice stops him instantly.
His entire body stiffens before he slowly turns around. His head hangs lower than before, and he can’t quite bring himself to fully meet your gaze anymore.
“I would’ve never said those things to you.”
For a long moment, he simply stands there.
“I know.” he admits quietly.
There isn’t a trace of defensiveness in his voice, only regret.
You let out a slow sigh, mindlessly tracing invisible circles against the fabric of your shorts with your fingertips. Forgiveness has never been easy for you. Not because you enjoy holding grudges, but because trust always feels fragile once it’s been cracked.
“But…” you continue after another long pause, “…I understand why it happened.”
The words surprise even you.
“It’s also my fault for keeping everything a secret. I convinced myself I was protecting everyone, but all I really did was create misunderstandings. I should’ve known that hiding something this important would eventually come back to haunt me. I was selfish.”
Yoongi immediately shakes his head before you’ve even finished speaking. He walks back toward the couch and sits down again, this time leaving much less distance between you than before.
“No.” he says firmly. “Don’t do that.”
His voice is steadier now.
“You don’t get to blame yourself for the way I treated you. I should’ve trusted you enough to tell you the truth from the beginning instead of keeping everything to myself. None of this is on you.”
You stare at him for several seconds. For the first time in what feels like forever, the tightness in your chest begins to loosen.
You hadn’t realized just how heavily this entire situation had been weighing on you until now. Carrying guilt alongside disappointment had become exhausting, and hearing him refuse to let you shoulder all the blame feels like finally setting down a burden you hadn’t even noticed you were carrying.
A small smile slowly finds its way onto your face.
It’s hesitant at first, but genuine. Without thinking too much about it, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him.
Yoongi freezes for only a brief second before hugging you back just as tightly. The embrace feels familiar.
“I forgive you.” you mumble against his shoulder. After a brief pause, a teasing grin appears on your face. “Just this once, asshole.”
His laughter fills the room, warm and relieved, the sound carrying away the last remnants of tension that had lingered between you all afternoon.
As he hugs you a little tighter, you realize that forgiveness doesn’t erase the pain someone caused. It simply means deciding that the relationship is worth giving another chance, despite the scars left behind. And sometimes, that decision is far more difficult, and far more meaningful, than holding onto resentment ever could.
Eventually, the conversation begins to drift away from everything that had happened between the two of you and settles into something much lighter. It feels refreshing, almost nostalgic, to talk without constantly weighing every word before saying it. You’re simply catching up. You fill Yoongi in on everything he’s missed over the past days.
You tell him about your new apartment and how, despite all the chaos that came with moving, it’s slowly starting to feel like home. You describe the little things you’ve grown unexpectedly attached to: the large windows that let the afternoon sunlight flood the living room, the tiny balcony where you and Layla occasionally sit late at night, and the peaceful silence that settles over the apartment after long, exhausting days.
From there, the conversation naturally shifts to the upcoming trip with everyone else.
The excitement you once felt has been replaced by a strange mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Between unresolved feelings, complicated friendships, and everything that’s happened recently, the vacation feels like it has the potential to either fix everything that’s going on inside your head or make it infinitely worse.
Yoongi listens carefully before letting out a quiet sigh.
“I honestly wouldn’t want to be in your position.”
You let out a small laugh.
“I don’t blame you.”
A comfortable silence follows. Not the awkward kind that demands someone fill it, but the peaceful sort that only exists between people who’ve known each other long enough to understand that silence isn’t always something that needs fixing.
You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed Yoongi.
Your friendship has never been loud or overly affectionate. Neither of you has ever been particularly good at expressing emotions with words, yet somehow you’ve always understood each other anyway. It has always been one of those rare relationships built on trust rather than constant reassurance. Quiet, subtle, almost invisible to outsiders, but remarkably strong beneath the surface. Some bonds don’t need daily conversations to survive. They simply wait until the right moment to pick up exactly where they left off.
A smile slowly spreads across your face before you lightly rest your head on his shoulder.
“I wish Layla could come with us…” you admit. “And, well… you too, of course.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes dramatically, lifting the glass of water you’d handed him a few minutes earlier. He takes another sip before answering.
“That would be an absolute disaster.”
He pauses, unable to stop a grin from appearing.
“…But a fun one.”
You laugh, already imagining the absolute disaster that would follow if the two of you ever spent several days together with Jungkook and Sophie.
Before you can reply, you hear slow footsteps approaching from the hallway. You barely glance over your shoulder. A moment later, Layla wanders into the living room completely unaware that Yoongi is still there.
Her hair has been twisted into a messy bun that seems to be defying the laws of physics, loose strands sticking out in every possible direction. Covering nearly her entire face is the bright green hydrating face mask the two of you had impulsively bought a few days earlier after convincing yourselves that a skin care night was exactly what you needed.
She looks completely relaxed.
“Babe, how’d it go with-”
She stops mid-sentence. Her eyes slowly travel past you before locking onto Yoongi. For a brief second, she doesn’t move, she doesn’t blink, she simply stares as the realization crashes into her all at once. He’s still here. You completely lose it.
Laughter erupts from your chest before you can even attempt to stop yourself. You double over almost immediately, clutching your stomach as another fit of laughter escapes you. Tears begin gathering in the corners of your eyes, making it nearly impossible to see.
When you finally manage to look up, you glance toward Yoongi. His expression is absolutely priceless. Pure horror. He looks equally confused and concerned, clearly wondering whether he should say something, apologize for overstaying his welcome, or quietly disappear through the nearest window.
“Holy shit!” Layla blurts out, horrified. “I was convinced I’d heard the front door close! I thought he’d already left!”
Your laughter only gets worse. She points toward the bathroom in complete panic.
“I’ll be right back!”
Without waiting for either of you to answer, she spins around and sprints down the hallway before disappearing behind the bathroom door, which closes with a loud click.
Silence settles over the apartment once again.
Yoongi slowly turns his head toward you, still trying to process what just happened.
“I remembered her being… a little eccentric.” he says, fighting back a laugh. “But this?”
He shakes his head. “She’s actually crazy.”
You stand up, still smiling to yourself, and carry his now-empty glass toward the kitchen. He quietly follows behind you, slipping his hands back into the pockets of his pants.
“There’s honestly no better way to describe her.” you admit, setting the glass inside the sink.
“I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.”
Only a minute later, hurried footsteps echo through the apartment again. Layla hurriedly comes running back into the kitchen. She stops abruptly in front of the two of you, breathing just a little too heavily, making it painfully obvious she’d rushed through washing her face and attempting to make herself look presentable.
The green mask is finally gone. Her hair, although still slightly messy, now resembles an actual hairstyle instead of an explosion. She awkwardly clears her throat.
“That was… incredibly embarrassing. I’m so sorry.” She laughs nervously before rubbing the back of her neck. “I actually don’t think I properly introduced myself the night we met at the club. I’m Layla.”
Yoongi smiles warmly before extending his hand.
“Don’t worry about it.” he says with an amused chuckle. “Honestly, it was pretty entertaining.”
He shakes her hand.
“I’m Yoongi.” The awkwardness disappears surprisingly quickly.
Within minutes, Layla is comfortably chatting with him as though they’ve known each other much longer than they actually have. Their personalities bounce off one another effortlessly, with Yoongi’s dry sarcasm meeting Layla’s complete lack of a filter in the most entertaining way possible.
You spend another half hour talking together, jumping from one random topic to another without ever really finishing any of them. For the first time that day, your apartment feels full again. Full of the comforting familiarity you’d been missing.
Eventually, Yoongi glances down at his phone before letting out a quiet sigh.
“I should probably head home.”
You walk him to the front door while Layla follows close behind. After exchanging one last hug and promising to see each other again soon, Yoongi offers you one final smile before stepping out into the hallway. The door quietly closes behind him.
You barely have enough time to turn around before Layla practically throws herself at you.
“I seriously did not remember him being that hot!”
You laugh, gently pushing her away before she can dramatically shake your shoulders.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” she asks innocently, although the grin on her face says otherwise. You simply roll your eyes, choosing not to answer. Mostly because she isn’t wrong.
“Well, he’s all yours if you want.” you say triumphantly, pointing a finger at her. “You’ve officially got my blessing, love.”
She groans dramatically, hiding her face behind her hands.
“I don’t need it! I didn’t mean it like that!”
“No, you didn’t.” you reply with a smug smile. “But you’re getting it anyway.”
.✦ ݁˖
It’s the next day when Sophie finally texts you all the details about the upcoming trip.
Her enthusiasm basically jumps off the screen as she tells you that the destination is Hawaii. She fills the message with far too many exclamation marks, already talking about beaches, sunsets, tropical drinks, and all the places she wants everyone to visit together. Reading her words makes you smile before you even realize it.
Hawaii might seem like a predictable choice, but the thought of sipping coconut milk on a warm beach, just like you’ve seen so many times in the movies, is enough to make your head spin with excitement again.
For the rest of the day, the thought lingers quietly at the back of your mind while you wander around the mall in search of new bikinis. You can’t remember the last time you actually needed one. It’s been years since you spent an entire day at the beach, swimming until your skin wrinkled from the saltwater, drying off under the warmth of the sun with sand stubbornly sticking to your legs.
As strange as it sounds, the idea of finally being able to swim in the ocean again excites you even more than the trip itself. The thought of warm water, endless blue skies, and the feeling of floating without worrying about anything feels almost therapeutic. Maybe it’s exactly what you need after everything that has happened recently.
You slowly browse through countless racks of swimwear, holding different bikinis against yourself in front of the mirrors. Some are bright and colorful, covered in tropical patterns that perfectly match the destination, while others are simple, elegant, and timeless. You find yourself spending far more time choosing than you expected, debating over colors you would normally never consider wearing.
Summer has fully settled in by now. The unpredictable chilly weather from only a few weeks ago has completely disappeared, replaced by heavy heat that seems impossible to escape. Even inside the shopping mall, where the air conditioning is blasting at what feels like the lowest temperature possible, you still catch yourself fanning your face every now and then.
Eventually, you take a break, rewarding yourself with an ice cream and watching people walk past while you sit on one of the benches outside the food court.
That’s when your thoughts inevitably drift somewhere they’ve been returning far too often lately.
The dream.
It comes back with surprising clarity despite several days having passed. Every detail still feels strangely vivid, almost as though it had actually happened instead of existing only inside your head. The emotions attached to it certainly haven’t faded.
You still haven’t seen Jungkook since that evening.
Part of you is relieved by the coincidence, but another part almost wishes you had already run into him just to get the awkwardness over with. Instead, every passing day only gives your imagination more room to make things worse.
The mere thought of facing him makes a nervous shiver travel down your spine.
You’re irrationally convinced that one careless glance, one awkward smile, or even the slightest change in your expression could reveal everything you’ve been trying so hard to keep hidden. As ridiculous as it sounds, you’re certain you’ll feel guilty around him despite the fact that none of it actually happened.
It was only a dream.
At least, that’s what you keep reminding yourself.
Still, your mind stubbornly refuses to let it go.
What unsettles you the most is how effortless everything had felt in that dream. Jungkook had looked at you as if he already knew exactly what was going through your head. There had been no confusion, no hesitation, no possibility of hiding behind excuses. He had confronted you so naturally that, even after waking up, the memory continued to make your heart race.
You wonder if he would ever notice in real life.
Would he recognize the way your eyes always linger on him? Would he pick up on the nervous laughs, the constant overthinking, or the way you always seem to become hyperaware of every little movement whenever he’s nearby?
Or would he remain completely oblivious, treating you exactly the same as always?
The uncertainty is almost worse than knowing the answer.
Without warning, the image from your dream flashes through your mind again. Jungkook pulling you effortlessly onto his lap as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Heat immediately rushes to your cheeks.
The lingering sensation of his lips is impossible to forget. Even now, the memory feels vivid, as though your mind refuses to let it fade. The taste of his kiss had seemed almost divine, so impossibly real that waking up hadn’t been enough to erase it.
Your subconscious mind really outdid itself this time, choosing the one thing it knew would leave you completely flustered.
You can’t help wondering why it felt so real. Why every little detail seemed so convincing, down to the warmth of his touch and the way your heart had pounded against your chest.
It gets you thinking… What would you do if any of it actually happened?
If Jungkook ever looked at you that way in real life, would you find the courage to meet his gaze, or would you panic and look away? Would you let yourself believe it was real, or would you convince yourself you had misunderstood everything?
The more you think about it, the more impossible it seems. And yet, despite knowing it was nothing more than a dream, a small part of you can’t stop imagining what it would feel like if, just once, fantasy and reality blurred together.
You lower your gaze to your melting ice cream, suddenly finding it far more interesting than the people walking around you.
“…Get a grip.” you quietly mumble to yourself with an embarrassed smile, shaking your head as if that alone could force the memory to disappear.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it only makes your blush deepen.
.✦ ݁˖
Dohyun invites you over for dinner, although you know the invitation is nothing more than an excuse Celeste, your brother’s wife, comes up with to finally get you through their front door after weeks of complaining that you never make time to visit anymore.
The second you step inside, she’s already walking toward you with the brightest smile on her face, throwing her arms around you before you even have the chance to say hello.
“Y/n! I’ve missed you so much! You never come by anymore.”
She squeezes you tightly before pulling back just enough to look at you, her bright blue eyes fixed on yours with such dramatic disappointment that you almost have to fight the urge to look away.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so busy with everything lately that I barely have enough time to sleep.”
The apology comes naturally because it’s the truth. Between the café, Yoongi, and everything else occupying your mind lately, visiting your brother has somehow ended up at the bottom of your priorities, even if you’ve thought about coming more times than you can count.
Celeste sighs drastically, though the warmth never leaves her expression.
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
She links her arm with yours before leading you toward the kitchen, already talking about dinner before you’ve even taken your coat off.
Dohyun is standing in front of the stove with a wooden spoon lazily stirring whatever is inside one of the pots, looking far more confident than someone with his complete lack of culinary abilities has any right to look. You can’t help but laugh.
You know your brother well enough to recognize the performance immediately. There isn’t a single chance that anything you’ll be eating tonight has actually been cooked by him. If anything tastes good, it will be entirely because of Celeste. The spoon in his hand is nothing more than a prop, one he’s probably been holding for less than thirty seconds before you walked in.
As soon as he notices you’ve finally arrived, he abandons his imaginary role as chef and walks over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a brief hug before immediately letting go again.
“Just so we’re clear..” he says with the same teasing expression he always wears around you, “she’s the one who insisted you come. Personally, I would’ve been perfectly happy if you’d stayed home.”
You roll your eyes before folding your arms across your chest, unable to stop yourself from smiling anyway.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He clicks his tongue dramatically, muttering something under his breath that makes Celeste shake her head with an affectionate smile before nudging him out of her way so she can actually finish cooking.
While she adds the last few ingredients to dinner, you move around the kitchen together, setting the table as the conversation flows effortlessly from one subject to another. She asks how work at the café is going, whether your manager is still impossible to deal with, whether the regular customers are behaving themselves, and somehow manages to make you laugh more than once as you complain about the increasingly ridiculous requests people seem to come up with every single day.
The sudden ring of the doorbell startles you, making you flinch. The fork in your hand nearly slips from your grasp before you manage to steady it. Celeste immediately brightens.
“Oh, he’s here!”
You barely have enough time to wonder who she’s talking about before footsteps echo through the hallway.
A second later, Jungkook appears in the kitchen with the same effortless smile that you’ve come to know so well.
“I brought wine!”
Your smile remains on your face purely out of instinct. You weren’t expecting him to be here.
Not even remotely. And suddenly every bit of calm you’d managed to build over the past few minutes disappears without warning, because standing in the same room as him is already difficult enough on a normal day, but standing in the same room as him after that dream feels almost unbearable.
No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself it meant nothing, no matter how many times you’ve told yourself that dreams are just dreams and should stay exactly where they belong, your mind keeps dragging you back to it, making it impossible to separate reality from the embarrassing memories your stupid brain has decided to create. It’s exhausting. More than anything, it’s humiliating.
Jungkook greets everyone one by one exactly as he always does. He wraps Celeste in a warm hug, exchanges a firm handshake with Dohyun before finally making his way toward you.
Your stomach drops the moment you realize he’s leaning down to greet you with a kiss on both cheeks.
Complete panic takes over before you can even react.
“Hello, sweetheart.” The nickname is nothing unusual. He’s called you sweetheart more times than you could ever count, always with the same casual affection, always without attaching any hidden meaning to it whatsoever.
So why does hearing it now suddenly make your entire body tense?
Your thoughts scatter in every possible direction.
You’ve spent years making sure he never notices anything.
You’ve always forced yourself to behave normally around him, making sure that your voice and your actions never betray the slightest hesitation that could reveal what you’ve spent so long trying to bury. You’ve become so good at pretending that sometimes you’ve almost managed to fool yourself.
But that stupid dream has ruined everything.
It has unsettled you in ways you hadn’t thought possible,making something you’ve done hundreds of times suddenly feel impossible.
Trying to return the greeting before the silence becomes awkward, you instinctively turn your head toward him at exactly the wrong moment.
Instead of moving past each other naturally, you both shift in the same direction. For one impossibly long second, your faces end up only a few inches apart.
Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
Close enough that your brain completely forgets how to function.
A startled squeak escapes your lips before you quickly stumble backward, almost tripping over your own feet in a desperate attempt to put some distance between the two of you.
“Sorry.”
The apology leaves your mouth automatically- barely louder than a whisper.
Without giving yourself the chance to look at him again, you immediately turn back toward the table, pretending to be completely focused on adjusting the cutlery, straightening glasses that don’t actually need straightening…anything to keep your hands occupied long enough for your racing heartbeat to calm down.
Behind you, you hear a quiet chuckle. Not mocking, just amused by the awkwardness of the moment.
Jungkook doesn’t comment on what happened. He simply walks back over to Dohyun as if nothing unusual has happened at all, immediately slipping into whatever conversation your brother and his wife were already having.
Their voices continue in the background, blending together until they become nothing more than an indistinct murmur.
You don’t catch a single word. The only sound you’re capable of hearing is the relentless pounding of your own heart echoing inside your ears.
At this point, you’re convinced you’re actually losing your mind. Because this isn’t you. You’ve never been like this around him. And whatever that dream has done to you, you have to shake off the lingering effects of it before anyone catches on. Especially Jungkook.
Because if this keeps happening every time he simply stands a little too close to you, surviving the rest of this dinner is going to be far more difficult than you ever imagined.
.✦ ݁˖
Eventually, everyone settles around the table, the dishes Celeste has prepared are now arranged neatly in the center, filling the room with the comforting smell of home-cooked food. She watches everyone with quiet satisfaction as you begin helping yourselves, insisting that nobody leaves the table hungry before she even thinks about serving herself.
For the first few minutes, the only sounds are the clinking of cutlery against plates and the occasional compliment directed at Celeste, who pretends not to care despite the proud smile that keeps finding its way back onto her face.
“So… Hawaii, huh?”
Dohyun is the first to speak, glancing across the table at Jungkook with an amused smile that immediately tells you he already knows exactly what kind of reaction he’s about to get.
Sure enough, Jungkook’s face lights up almost instantly. His eyes brighten with unmistakable excitement, and although he tries to sound casual, there’s no hiding how much he’s looking forward to it.
“Sophie and I have always wanted to go there.” he explains, resting his forearms against the edge of the table. “We figured it would be the perfect opportunity to finally cross it off our bucket list, especially if we get to spend the time there with the people we love.”
Without saying a word, you reach for the bottle of wine beside your plate and slowly fill your glass, keeping your eyes on the dark liquid as it rises while quietly listening to the conversation around you. You have to admit it’s an incredibly thoughtful idea. Most couples would probably choose to leave on their own, taking advantage of the chance to spend a few peaceful days together before getting caught up in the chaos of the wedding. Instead, they’ve decided to turn it into something everyone can share, inviting the people closest to them to create memories together before one of the biggest days of their lives.
It’s genuinely a very kind gesture.
“The hotel’s incredible!” Jungkook continues with an excited laugh, shaking his head as though he still can’t quite believe they’ve actually booked it. “Seriously, you guys have no idea. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Celeste immediately starts asking questions, wanting to know every little detail she hasn’t already heard. Has he planned any excursions? Have they already decided what you’ll be doing each day? Before long, however, the conversation naturally shifts away from Hawaii altogether and settles on the wedding instead, with Celeste enthusiastically asking about final fittings and all the little details that still need to be taken care of before the ceremony.
You remain mostly quiet, occasionally taking another sip of wine while absentmindedly moving food around your plate, but every time someone mentions the wedding, you feel something inside your chest tighten ever so slightly.
Almost two months. The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it.
Almost two months, and everything will finally become real. Once Jungkook is married, there won’t be any room left for impossible fantasies or foolish hopes you’ve never allowed yourself to voice. Whatever feelings you’ve carried in silence for all these years will have nowhere left to go except the furthest corners of your mind, where you’ll force them to stay until they eventually become nothing more than distant memories.
The wedding will be the point of no return.
As painful as that thought is, maybe it’s exactly what you need. Maybe accepting reality completely will finally allow you to leave all of this behind.
“Sweetheart, what about you? What’s new?”
The sound of Jungkook’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts so suddenly that you almost flinch.
When you look up, you find him watching you with genuine curiosity, his attention entirely focused on you now while everyone else waits for your answer.
Almost instinctively, you shift in your chair.
The appetite you had only moments ago disappears without warning.
“Yeah… uh-” You clear your throat, forcing yourself to smile. “I’m doing okay. Just working, as usual.”
You hide behind an easy answer. Simple enough that nobody has any reason to question it. The truth, however, is that work hasn’t been the only thing occupying your thoughts lately.
For quite some time now, you’ve been seriously considering going back to college, although this time you would choose a completely different path from the one you walked away from years ago.
Whenever your mind drifts back to Law school, you don’t remember the lectures or the exams first. What comes back instead is the overwhelming exhaustion that slowly swallowed every part of your life, until finding the strength to get out of bed every morning felt like climbing a mountain. You remember forcing yourself to sit through classes that left you feeling emptier every single day, convincing yourself that if you just kept pushing a little longer, eventually things would get better. They never did.
Little by little, you stopped recognizing yourself.
Walking away had felt like admitting failure.
For months afterward, you carried that guilt everywhere, convinced you had given up because you simply weren’t capable of finishing what you’d started. Only much later did you understand that leaving had probably been the healthiest decision you’d made in years.
Your therapist helped you see that.
Week after week, she gave you the space to untangle thoughts you hadn’t even realized were weighing you down, helping you rebuild yourself piece by piece until life slowly stopped feeling like something you merely had to endure. She didn’t just help you recover, she helped you remember that you were allowed to choose a future that actually made you happy.
Somewhere during that process, a new possibility quietly began taking shape.
You found yourself wondering what it would be like to become the kind of person who could offer someone else the same support you had once needed so desperately. The idea of studying psychology had never crossed your mind before, yet the more you thought about it, the more it felt like something that genuinely belonged to you instead of something you were trying to convince yourself to love.
Nothing has been decided yet. For now, it’s simply an idea you’ve been carefully protecting.
Saying it out loud somehow makes it feel fragile, as though sharing it before you’re absolutely certain might make it disappear altogether.
So you keep it to yourself. When the time feels right, everyone will know.
Until then, work is a much easier answer.
“That’s very good.” Jungkook says with an encouraging smile, completely unaware that behind those few ordinary words lies a future you’re still too afraid to speak into existence.
.✦ ݁˖
The rest of the evening passes almost effortlessly, the conversation flowing from one topic to another without anyone ever having to force it. Laughter fills the room so often that, after a while, it becomes part of the background, blending with the sound of glasses being refilled.
You find yourself laughing too.
Watching Dohyun and Jungkook together has always been strangely comforting. Every now and then, you forget just how deeply they care for each other until you see them sharing stories only the two of them could possibly understand, interrupting one another to argue over details that happened years ago before inevitably bursting into laughter halfway through the disagreement.
Their friendship has never needed to be explained.
It’s visible in the way they look at each other whenever one of them starts telling an old story, already knowing exactly how it’s going to end. It’s there in the effortless teasing, in the familiarity that only comes from growing up side by side, from making mistakes together, from witnessing every version of the other person without ever choosing to leave.
They begin reminiscing about college, laughing over disastrous group projects, impossible exams, nights spent surviving on instant noodles and energy drinks because neither of them had enough money-or enough common sense- to take proper care of themselves. Celeste rolls her eyes every few minutes, clearly having heard these stories countless times before, yet she still smiles as though she’s listening for the first time.
You quietly watch them while tracing the rim of your wine glass with your fingertips.
The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it- if Dohyun and Jungkook had never become friends, your life would have looked completely different.
You probably never would’ve met him. Maybe your heart would’ve belonged to someone else by now, you would’ve fallen in love with someone capable of loving you back.
Maybe you would’ve spared yourself years of silently carrying feelings that were never yours to confess.
Life would’ve been easier, and the thought should comfort you. Instead, all it leaves behind is an emptiness you don’t quite know how to explain.
Because imagining a life where Jungkook doesn’t exist somehow hurts even more than imagining one where he never becomes yours.
By the time dinner is over, it’s much later than anyone had realized. Plates have long been emptied, glasses abandoned wherever the conversation happened to carry them, and the evening slowly begins coming to an end.
After helping clear the table despite Celeste’s insistence that she’ll take care of everything tomorrow, you finally make your way toward the front door, stepping outside.
You and Jungkook say your goodbyes almost at the same time, thanking Celeste for dinner while Dohyun reminds you (for what feels like the hundredth time) that you should visit more often.
You promise you will. Whether you actually manage to keep that promise is another matter entirely.
The two of you start walking side by side toward your cars at an unhurried pace, the quiet residential street almost completely empty at this hour. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It rarely ever is. Which is exactly why his voice catches you completely off guard.
“So… I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
You glance at him, curious.
“Why don’t you want me to know who the guy you like is?” For a split second, you genuinely forget how to breathe. Your body almost comes to a complete stop before you force your feet to keep moving.
This is a nightmare. You need to get away from this conversation before it goes any further.
Lately, he’s been asking too many questions.
Questions that seem harmless to him but feel dangerously close to the truth every single time they leave his mouth.
The fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore suddenly settles heavily inside your chest.
What if he’s starting to suspect something?
What if you’ve already slipped up without realizing it?
What if all those little moments you thought you’d hidden so carefully haven’t been nearly as invisible as you convinced yourself they were?
“Well…”
The word hangs awkwardly in the air while your mind desperately searches for something, anything, that sounds believable. Nothing comes.
The longer you stay silent, the worse it becomes.
Every passing second feels like another opportunity for him to look a little closer.
Another chance for him to see straight through you.
“I’m… embarrassed.” you admit quietly, forcing the words out before your silence says too much. “I don’t want you to pity me.”
He stops walking altogether. Before you even have time to react, his hands gently settle on your shoulders, turning you toward him until you’re left with no choice but to meet his eyes.
“You know I’d never do that.”
His voice is calm. Reassuring.
“You can trust me.”
For a moment, you simply stare at him.
The streetlights are too far away to do much, leaving the stars above to cast the softest light across his face. His eyes seem impossibly bright beneath the night sky, warm and open in that way that’s always made it so easy to believe every word he says.
He’s breathtaking.
Kindness has somehow found a permanent home inside him, because every expression he makes is genuine.
The longer you look at him, the more impossible it becomes to imagine a version of your life where you never fell in love with him.
You know there never was one.
The outcome had been decided long before you ever realized what was happening.
“I know that, Kook…” you whisper, forcing a small smile onto your lips. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”
He studies your face for another second before finally letting his hands fall back to his sides.
“Alright, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t insist. He never does. The two of you start walking again, and this time silence settles between you for good. You knew this would happen. You should’ve never opened up to him in the first place.
The day he asked whether there was someone you liked, you should’ve laughed, denied everything and taken that lie with you to your grave if necessary. Instead, you’d let yourself feel safe. That has always been the problem.
Jungkook has never made you feel out of place. Never made you feel foolish. With him, words seem to come easier than they should. Before you even realize it, you’ve already confessed things you swore you’d keep to yourself forever.
You reach his car before either of you says another word. A warm breeze brushes past, gently lifting strands of your hair before carrying them across your face. He unlocks the car but doesn’t immediately reach for the door.
Instead, he turns back toward you.
“You know I’ll always be there for you, Y/n.” His voice is quiet, almost swallowed by the night around you. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me. I’d never judge you. There isn’t anything you could tell me that would ever make me think less of you.”
Your chest tightens so suddenly it almost hurts.
That’s who Jungkook has always been.
No matter how difficult life becomes, he somehow always knows exactly what to say to make the people he loves feel safe. He has spent years reassuring you without ever realizing how much those words mean, constantly reminding you that you can lean on him whenever things become too heavy to carry alone. He’s always been there. Every single time.
It doesn’t matter how much pain loving him has caused you over the years- you’d go through it all over again if you knew Jungkook would still be by your side.
You keep telling yourself that everything will get better once the wedding is over. You repeat it so often that it should feel true by now. Somewhere deep in your heart though, you know it won’t.
Instead, you feel as though your entire life has begun revolving around a date that doesn’t even belong to you, as though you’re counting down to a moment that will change everything while having absolutely no place in it.
It’s like you’re standing on the outside of someone else’s story, watching it unfold exactly the way it’s supposed to while desperately wishing your own heart would stop acting as though it has any right to break.
You look at him and, despite yourself, a small smile finds its way onto your face.
His expression remains neutral for a second, almost curious, before he unconsciously mirrors you, the corners of his lips lifting into one of those wide, teeth-showing smiles.
Your heart shatters quietly. This is the smile Sophie gets to come home to every evening after work. This is the smile waiting for her at the end of an ordinary day, the smile that belongs to her life, her future.
Is this the same smile he’ll have on his face when he’s standing at the altar, waiting for her to walk toward him?
Will this same expression light up his face the first time he holds one of their future children?
The images appear so vividly inside your mind that they almost feel real. For years, you’ve waited for a miracle that was never coming.
You’ve spent countless nights lying awake, whispering desperate prayers into the darkness, begging anyone who might be listening to let things somehow work out differently, to let the impossible happen just once, to let him choose you. Nothing ever answered.
Your lips begin trembling before you even realize it. The warmth behind your eyes builds so quickly that it catches you completely off guard.
You try to stop it before it fully settles in, but it’s already there. you blink once, then twice, hoping it will clear, but it doesn’t work. It lingers anyway, impossible to push away, rising quietly no matter how hard you try to hold it back.
A single tear escapes despite your efforts, slipping silently down your cheek before falling onto the pavement between your feet.
“Sweetheart…”
His voice is barely above a whisper, and you can’t look at him. If you meet his eyes now, you’re terrified he’ll finally see it. Not the tears, but the love behind them. The years you’ve spent hiding every glance, every heartbeat, every impossible feeling.
You lower your head, desperately willing yourself to stop crying, but before you can say anything, you suddenly feel his arms wrap carefully around you. The embrace is gentle. Uncertain at first, as though he’s trying to comfort you without overwhelming you. His familiar scent surrounds you almost instantly, leaving no room for anything else. Without thinking, you cling to him firmly, burying your face against his chest until you’re no longer sure whether the tightness in your lungs comes from crying or simply from being so impossibly close to the one person you’ve spent years trying not to love. You don’t know what finally broke inside you.
You don’t know why tonight, of all nights, your emotions refuse to stay where you’ve always managed to keep them. All you know is that no place in the world has ever felt as safe as his arms. You could stay there forever if life were kinder.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” he murmurs softly above your head, his hand gently rubbing slow circles against your back. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” you immediately reply. The words come out in a breath that feels thinner than you expect, almost unstable. Admitting it out loud somehow makes everything inside you a little harder to hold together.
Jungkook eases out of the hug just enough to look at you properly, not creating distance, just shifting so he can see your face better. His hands stay on you for a moment longer before rising with quiet care, fingers gently cupping your face in a way that feels so casual it almost makes your chest ache.
He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t fill the silence immediately, just studies you for a second, his gaze soft but focused, as if he’s trying to gather all the pieces of you that are falling apart together.
Then, with a patience that never seems to run out when it comes to you, he wipes away what’s left of your tears, his thumb brushing carefully beneath your eye, slow enough to feel unfair.
“Please don’t say that.” he murmurs, voice low and steady, completely unbothered by the tension you can’t seem to shake off, “nothing’s wrong with you, love. I promise things will get better.”
Love.
It lands in your chest in a way you don’t know how to explain, not because it’s new, but because he says it like it belongs there without question.
You want to believe him. You really do. But you know your own reality too well for that kind of comfort to fully reach you.
Still, you nod faintly, not because you agree, but because you don’t trust your voice to hold up if you try to argue with him.
After a moment, his hands slowly fall away, though the reluctance is clear in the way he does it. The absence of his touch hits you more sharply than you expect, leaving behind a quiet emptiness that settles under your skin without asking permission. The air suddenly feels colder, or maybe it’s just the sudden return of awareness.
You take a small step back, quickly wiping at your face as if you can erase the evidence of the moment before it settles too deeply between you.
There’s a pause. Not awkward exactly, just still.
Jungkook exhales softly, glancing toward your car before looking back at you.
“Text me when you get home.” he says, quieter now, the tone shifting back into something familiar.
You manage a small nod. “I will.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips, gentle and unforced, and he lifts a hand in a small wave that feels simple but strangely personal. “Drive safely.” he adds.
“You too.” you reply, voice steadier than before, though it still doesn’t feel entirely like it belongs to you. You both linger for a second longer than necessary, neither of you moving immediately, as if there’s an unspoken agreement. But eventually the silence settles into something final enough that it dissolves on its own. You turn first toward your car. He does the same a moment later.
No dramatic goodbye, no lingering hesitation that changes anything, just two people returning to their separate directions.
You get in. He gets in.
And when the engine finally starts, the night feels suddenly wider, like the space between you has expanded in a way you can’t quite measure but immediately feel. You don’t look back again.
And as you drive away, with the silence pressing against every corner of the car, a single thought settles in your mind with uncomfortable clarity: in a situation like yours, things hardly ever get better.
They just learn how to hurt in quieter ways.
───────────
author’s note:
They’re going to Hawaii! As I wrote in the chapter- predictable but sooo good :P
Also!!!!! I recall someone telling me how they could see y/n studying psychology and I was like “yeah i mean that could happen but who knows”… brooo I couldn’t spoil it for anybody but I was left speechless😭
Anyway I truly hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as always please let me know what you think of it!💘
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
paining: brother's best friend!jungkook × f!reader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut (!!adding new warnings when needed!!)
>>english is not my first language
chapter 7 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
You decide to meet Yoongi after he finally realizes that calling you would be far more effective than flooding your phone with endless apologetic text messages. Hearing his voice on the other end of the line feels strangely unfamiliar after everything that happened, yet there is something undeniably sincere in the hesitation that lingers between his words. After a brief conversation, you reluctantly agree to see him, deciding it would be safer for him to come to your apartment rather than meeting somewhere outside. The thought of accidentally running into Sophie again immediately twists your stomach into knots, and the possibility of crossing paths with Jungkook is even worse. You don’t think you could handle another confrontation.
The entire afternoon passes at an agonizingly slow pace. You keep finding yourself glancing at the clock, wondering whether agreeing to this had been a mistake. Part of you wants to hear what Yoongi has to say, but another part still remembers every single word he threw at you that day. Words spoken in anger may disappear into thin air, but they have a cruel habit of lingering inside the person they were directed at.
When the doorbell finally rings, the sudden sound echoes through the apartment much louder than it normally would, startling you from your thoughts.
Layla immediately jumps off the couch, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She flashes you a dramatic thumbs-up before quietly disappearing into her bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind her as though she knows the conversation you’re about to have isn’t meant for anyone else’s ears.
You shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the small laugh escaping your lips. Even in tense situations, Layla somehow always manages to lighten the atmosphere, if only for a brief second.
Taking a slow breath, you make your way to the entrance and open the door.
Yoongi stands there with his hands tucked awkwardly inside the pockets of his pants. He looks exhausted, the faint shadows beneath his eyes suggesting he hasn’t been sleeping much either. His usually composed expression has softened into something much more vulnerable, almost uncertain.
“Hello” he says quietly.
“Hi” you answer, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in.”
He nods with a faint murmur of gratitude before slipping off his shoes and following you into the living room.
Neither of you knows how to begin.
You both sit down on the couch, leaving a polite distance between yourselves. Your hands rest awkwardly against your thighs while Yoongi leans forward slightly, his fingers nervously intertwined. The silence stretching between you isn’t hostile, but it certainly isn’t comfortable either. It carries the weight of everything that has been left unsaid, every misunderstanding and every regret that neither of you has fully processed.
Yoongi is the first to break it.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you probably don’t want to hear me out, and I honestly appreciate that you agreed to see me.”
You press your lips together, fighting the urge to smile despite yourself. Watching him avoid your gaze feels oddly endearing. In moments like this, it’s almost impossible to remember that he’s several years older than you. He suddenly seems far less intimidating than usual, almost like a little kid who’s just been scolded by their mother.
You know exactly who Yoongi is.
You know he is a good person. He’s been there for you more times than you can count, offering quiet support without ever asking for anything in return. He’s easily become one of the people you trusted the most, which is precisely why his words hurt so deeply. Betrayal stings the most when it comes from someone whose opinion genuinely matters.
You don’t interrupt him.
Instead, you simply nod, silently encouraging him to continue. You can tell from the way his shoulders remain tense that he hasn’t said everything weighing on his heart.
“I never wanted to hurt you Y/n…” he says after taking a deep breath. “I need you to know that I care about you. I really do. You’re my friend, and I value you more than I’ve probably ever said out loud. Seeing Sophie again… it hit me a lot harder than I expected. I know that’s not an excuse, and I’m not asking you to pretend it is. I just… I completely lost control. I let my emotions get the best of me, and you ended up paying the price for something that had nothing to do with you.”
This time he finally forces himself to meet your eyes. The hope you find in them almost catches you off guard. He’s waiting for some kind of reaction, even if it’s anger.
When none comes, his expression gradually falls. His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly as doubt slowly replaces hope. He shifts uncomfortably where he’s sitting, interpreting your silence as confirmation that perhaps he’s already ruined everything beyond repair.
“…Alright.” he whispers.
The word barely reaches your ears.
He slowly stands, giving you a small nod as though accepting a punishment he believes he deserves. Without another word, he turns toward the door, convinced that there’s nothing left to say.
“You were an asshole, Yoongi.”
Your voice stops him instantly.
His entire body stiffens before he slowly turns around. His head hangs lower than before, and he can’t quite bring himself to fully meet your gaze anymore.
“I would’ve never said those things to you.”
For a long moment, he simply stands there.
“I know.” he admits quietly.
There isn’t a trace of defensiveness in his voice, only regret.
You let out a slow sigh, mindlessly tracing invisible circles against the fabric of your shorts with your fingertips. Forgiveness has never been easy for you. Not because you enjoy holding grudges, but because trust always feels fragile once it’s been cracked.
“But…” you continue after another long pause, “…I understand why it happened.”
The words surprise even you.
“It’s also my fault for keeping everything a secret. I convinced myself I was protecting everyone, but all I really did was create misunderstandings. I should’ve known that hiding something this important would eventually come back to haunt me. I was selfish.”
Yoongi immediately shakes his head before you’ve even finished speaking. He walks back toward the couch and sits down again, this time leaving much less distance between you than before.
“No.” he says firmly. “Don’t do that.”
His voice is steadier now.
“You don’t get to blame yourself for the way I treated you. I should’ve trusted you enough to tell you the truth from the beginning instead of keeping everything to myself. None of this is on you.”
You stare at him for several seconds. For the first time in what feels like forever, the tightness in your chest begins to loosen.
You hadn’t realized just how heavily this entire situation had been weighing on you until now. Carrying guilt alongside disappointment had become exhausting, and hearing him refuse to let you shoulder all the blame feels like finally setting down a burden you hadn’t even noticed you were carrying.
A small smile slowly finds its way onto your face.
It’s hesitant at first, but genuine. Without thinking too much about it, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him.
Yoongi freezes for only a brief second before hugging you back just as tightly. The embrace feels familiar.
“I forgive you.” you mumble against his shoulder. After a brief pause, a teasing grin appears on your face. “Just this once, asshole.”
His laughter fills the room, warm and relieved, the sound carrying away the last remnants of tension that had lingered between you all afternoon.
As he hugs you a little tighter, you realize that forgiveness doesn’t erase the pain someone caused. It simply means deciding that the relationship is worth giving another chance, despite the scars left behind. And sometimes, that decision is far more difficult, and far more meaningful, than holding onto resentment ever could.
Eventually, the conversation begins to drift away from everything that had happened between the two of you and settles into something much lighter. It feels refreshing, almost nostalgic, to talk without constantly weighing every word before saying it. You’re simply catching up. You fill Yoongi in on everything he’s missed over the past days.
You tell him about your new apartment and how, despite all the chaos that came with moving, it’s slowly starting to feel like home. You describe the little things you’ve grown unexpectedly attached to: the large windows that let the afternoon sunlight flood the living room, the tiny balcony where you and Layla occasionally sit late at night, and the peaceful silence that settles over the apartment after long, exhausting days.
From there, the conversation naturally shifts to the upcoming trip with everyone else.
The excitement you once felt has been replaced by a strange mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Between unresolved feelings, complicated friendships, and everything that’s happened recently, the vacation feels like it has the potential to either fix everything that’s going on inside your head or make it infinitely worse.
Yoongi listens carefully before letting out a quiet sigh.
“I honestly wouldn’t want to be in your position.”
You let out a small laugh.
“I don’t blame you.”
A comfortable silence follows. Not the awkward kind that demands someone fill it, but the peaceful sort that only exists between people who’ve known each other long enough to understand that silence isn’t always something that needs fixing.
You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed Yoongi.
Your friendship has never been loud or overly affectionate. Neither of you has ever been particularly good at expressing emotions with words, yet somehow you’ve always understood each other anyway. It has always been one of those rare relationships built on trust rather than constant reassurance. Quiet, subtle, almost invisible to outsiders, but remarkably strong beneath the surface. Some bonds don’t need daily conversations to survive. They simply wait until the right moment to pick up exactly where they left off.
A smile slowly spreads across your face before you lightly rest your head on his shoulder.
“I wish Layla could come with us…” you admit. “And, well… you too, of course.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes dramatically, lifting the glass of water you’d handed him a few minutes earlier. He takes another sip before answering.
“That would be an absolute disaster.”
He pauses, unable to stop a grin from appearing.
“…But a fun one.”
You laugh, already imagining the absolute disaster that would follow if the two of you ever spent several days together with Jungkook and Sophie.
Before you can reply, you hear slow footsteps approaching from the hallway. You barely glance over your shoulder. A moment later, Layla wanders into the living room completely unaware that Yoongi is still there.
Her hair has been twisted into a messy bun that seems to be defying the laws of physics, loose strands sticking out in every possible direction. Covering nearly her entire face is the bright green hydrating face mask the two of you had impulsively bought a few days earlier after convincing yourselves that a skin care night was exactly what you needed.
She looks completely relaxed.
“Babe, how’d it go with-”
She stops mid-sentence. Her eyes slowly travel past you before locking onto Yoongi. For a brief second, she doesn’t move, she doesn’t blink, she simply stares as the realization crashes into her all at once. He’s still here. You completely lose it.
Laughter erupts from your chest before you can even attempt to stop yourself. You double over almost immediately, clutching your stomach as another fit of laughter escapes you. Tears begin gathering in the corners of your eyes, making it nearly impossible to see.
When you finally manage to look up, you glance toward Yoongi. His expression is absolutely priceless. Pure horror. He looks equally confused and concerned, clearly wondering whether he should say something, apologize for overstaying his welcome, or quietly disappear through the nearest window.
“Holy shit!” Layla blurts out, horrified. “I was convinced I’d heard the front door close! I thought he’d already left!”
Your laughter only gets worse. She points toward the bathroom in complete panic.
“I’ll be right back!”
Without waiting for either of you to answer, she spins around and sprints down the hallway before disappearing behind the bathroom door, which closes with a loud click.
Silence settles over the apartment once again.
Yoongi slowly turns his head toward you, still trying to process what just happened.
“I remembered her being… a little eccentric.” he says, fighting back a laugh. “But this?”
He shakes his head. “She’s actually crazy.”
You stand up, still smiling to yourself, and carry his now-empty glass toward the kitchen. He quietly follows behind you, slipping his hands back into the pockets of his pants.
“There’s honestly no better way to describe her.” you admit, setting the glass inside the sink.
“I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.”
Only a minute later, hurried footsteps echo through the apartment again. Layla hurriedly comes running back into the kitchen. She stops abruptly in front of the two of you, breathing just a little too heavily, making it painfully obvious she’d rushed through washing her face and attempting to make herself look presentable.
The green mask is finally gone. Her hair, although still slightly messy, now resembles an actual hairstyle instead of an explosion. She awkwardly clears her throat.
“That was… incredibly embarrassing. I’m so sorry.” She laughs nervously before rubbing the back of her neck. “I actually don’t think I properly introduced myself the night we met at the club. I’m Layla.”
Yoongi smiles warmly before extending his hand.
“Don’t worry about it.” he says with an amused chuckle. “Honestly, it was pretty entertaining.”
He shakes her hand.
“I’m Yoongi.” The awkwardness disappears surprisingly quickly.
Within minutes, Layla is comfortably chatting with him as though they’ve known each other much longer than they actually have. Their personalities bounce off one another effortlessly, with Yoongi’s dry sarcasm meeting Layla’s complete lack of a filter in the most entertaining way possible.
You spend another half hour talking together, jumping from one random topic to another without ever really finishing any of them. For the first time that day, your apartment feels full again. Full of the comforting familiarity you’d been missing.
Eventually, Yoongi glances down at his phone before letting out a quiet sigh.
“I should probably head home.”
You walk him to the front door while Layla follows close behind. After exchanging one last hug and promising to see each other again soon, Yoongi offers you one final smile before stepping out into the hallway. The door quietly closes behind him.
You barely have enough time to turn around before Layla practically throws herself at you.
“I seriously did not remember him being that hot!”
You laugh, gently pushing her away before she can dramatically shake your shoulders.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” she asks innocently, although the grin on her face says otherwise. You simply roll your eyes, choosing not to answer. Mostly because she isn’t wrong.
“Well, he’s all yours if you want.” you say triumphantly, pointing a finger at her. “You’ve officially got my blessing, love.”
She groans dramatically, hiding her face behind her hands.
“I don’t need it! I didn’t mean it like that!”
“No, you didn’t.” you reply with a smug smile. “But you’re getting it anyway.”
.✦ ݁˖
It’s the next day when Sophie finally texts you all the details about the upcoming trip.
Her enthusiasm basically jumps off the screen as she tells you that the destination is Hawaii. She fills the message with far too many exclamation marks, already talking about beaches, sunsets, tropical drinks, and all the places she wants everyone to visit together. Reading her words makes you smile before you even realize it.
Hawaii might seem like a predictable choice, but the thought of sipping coconut milk on a warm beach, just like you’ve seen so many times in the movies, is enough to make your head spin with excitement again.
For the rest of the day, the thought lingers quietly at the back of your mind while you wander around the mall in search of new bikinis. You can’t remember the last time you actually needed one. It’s been years since you spent an entire day at the beach, swimming until your skin wrinkled from the saltwater, drying off under the warmth of the sun with sand stubbornly sticking to your legs.
As strange as it sounds, the idea of finally being able to swim in the ocean again excites you even more than the trip itself. The thought of warm water, endless blue skies, and the feeling of floating without worrying about anything feels almost therapeutic. Maybe it’s exactly what you need after everything that has happened recently.
You slowly browse through countless racks of swimwear, holding different bikinis against yourself in front of the mirrors. Some are bright and colorful, covered in tropical patterns that perfectly match the destination, while others are simple, elegant, and timeless. You find yourself spending far more time choosing than you expected, debating over colors you would normally never consider wearing.
Summer has fully settled in by now. The unpredictable chilly weather from only a few weeks ago has completely disappeared, replaced by heavy heat that seems impossible to escape. Even inside the shopping mall, where the air conditioning is blasting at what feels like the lowest temperature possible, you still catch yourself fanning your face every now and then.
Eventually, you take a break, rewarding yourself with an ice cream and watching people walk past while you sit on one of the benches outside the food court.
That’s when your thoughts inevitably drift somewhere they’ve been returning far too often lately.
The dream.
It comes back with surprising clarity despite several days having passed. Every detail still feels strangely vivid, almost as though it had actually happened instead of existing only inside your head. The emotions attached to it certainly haven’t faded.
You still haven’t seen Jungkook since that evening.
Part of you is relieved by the coincidence, but another part almost wishes you had already run into him just to get the awkwardness over with. Instead, every passing day only gives your imagination more room to make things worse.
The mere thought of facing him makes a nervous shiver travel down your spine.
You’re irrationally convinced that one careless glance, one awkward smile, or even the slightest change in your expression could reveal everything you’ve been trying so hard to keep hidden. As ridiculous as it sounds, you’re certain you’ll feel guilty around him despite the fact that none of it actually happened.
It was only a dream.
At least, that’s what you keep reminding yourself.
Still, your mind stubbornly refuses to let it go.
What unsettles you the most is how effortless everything had felt in that dream. Jungkook had looked at you as if he already knew exactly what was going through your head. There had been no confusion, no hesitation, no possibility of hiding behind excuses. He had confronted you so naturally that, even after waking up, the memory continued to make your heart race.
You wonder if he would ever notice in real life.
Would he recognize the way your eyes always linger on him? Would he pick up on the nervous laughs, the constant overthinking, or the way you always seem to become hyperaware of every little movement whenever he’s nearby?
Or would he remain completely oblivious, treating you exactly the same as always?
The uncertainty is almost worse than knowing the answer.
Without warning, the image from your dream flashes through your mind again. Jungkook pulling you effortlessly onto his lap as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Heat immediately rushes to your cheeks.
The lingering sensation of his lips is impossible to forget. Even now, the memory feels vivid, as though your mind refuses to let it fade. The taste of his kiss had seemed almost divine, so impossibly real that waking up hadn’t been enough to erase it.
Your subconscious mind really outdid itself this time, choosing the one thing it knew would leave you completely flustered.
You can’t help wondering why it felt so real. Why every little detail seemed so convincing, down to the warmth of his touch and the way your heart had pounded against your chest.
It gets you thinking… What would you do if any of it actually happened?
If Jungkook ever looked at you that way in real life, would you find the courage to meet his gaze, or would you panic and look away? Would you let yourself believe it was real, or would you convince yourself you had misunderstood everything?
The more you think about it, the more impossible it seems. And yet, despite knowing it was nothing more than a dream, a small part of you can’t stop imagining what it would feel like if, just once, fantasy and reality blurred together.
You lower your gaze to your melting ice cream, suddenly finding it far more interesting than the people walking around you.
“…Get a grip.” you quietly mumble to yourself with an embarrassed smile, shaking your head as if that alone could force the memory to disappear.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it only makes your blush deepen.
.✦ ݁˖
Dohyun invites you over for dinner, although you know the invitation is nothing more than an excuse Celeste, your brother’s wife, comes up with to finally get you through their front door after weeks of complaining that you never make time to visit anymore.
The second you step inside, she’s already walking toward you with the brightest smile on her face, throwing her arms around you before you even have the chance to say hello.
“Y/n! I’ve missed you so much! You never come by anymore.”
She squeezes you tightly before pulling back just enough to look at you, her bright blue eyes fixed on yours with such dramatic disappointment that you almost have to fight the urge to look away.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so busy with everything lately that I barely have enough time to sleep.”
The apology comes naturally because it’s the truth. Between the café, Yoongi, and everything else occupying your mind lately, visiting your brother has somehow ended up at the bottom of your priorities, even if you’ve thought about coming more times than you can count.
Celeste sighs drastically, though the warmth never leaves her expression.
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
She links her arm with yours before leading you toward the kitchen, already talking about dinner before you’ve even taken your coat off.
Dohyun is standing in front of the stove with a wooden spoon lazily stirring whatever is inside one of the pots, looking far more confident than someone with his complete lack of culinary abilities has any right to look. You can’t help but laugh.
You know your brother well enough to recognize the performance immediately. There isn’t a single chance that anything you’ll be eating tonight has actually been cooked by him. If anything tastes good, it will be entirely because of Celeste. The spoon in his hand is nothing more than a prop, one he’s probably been holding for less than thirty seconds before you walked in.
As soon as he notices you’ve finally arrived, he abandons his imaginary role as chef and walks over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a brief hug before immediately letting go again.
“Just so we’re clear..” he says with the same teasing expression he always wears around you, “she’s the one who insisted you come. Personally, I would’ve been perfectly happy if you’d stayed home.”
You roll your eyes before folding your arms across your chest, unable to stop yourself from smiling anyway.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He clicks his tongue dramatically, muttering something under his breath that makes Celeste shake her head with an affectionate smile before nudging him out of her way so she can actually finish cooking.
While she adds the last few ingredients to dinner, you move around the kitchen together, setting the table as the conversation flows effortlessly from one subject to another. She asks how work at the café is going, whether your manager is still impossible to deal with, whether the regular customers are behaving themselves, and somehow manages to make you laugh more than once as you complain about the increasingly ridiculous requests people seem to come up with every single day.
The sudden ring of the doorbell startles you, making you flinch. The fork in your hand nearly slips from your grasp before you manage to steady it. Celeste immediately brightens.
“Oh, he’s here!”
You barely have enough time to wonder who she’s talking about before footsteps echo through the hallway.
A second later, Jungkook appears in the kitchen with the same effortless smile that you’ve come to know so well.
“I brought wine!”
Your smile remains on your face purely out of instinct. You weren’t expecting him to be here.
Not even remotely. And suddenly every bit of calm you’d managed to build over the past few minutes disappears without warning, because standing in the same room as him is already difficult enough on a normal day, but standing in the same room as him after that dream feels almost unbearable.
No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself it meant nothing, no matter how many times you’ve told yourself that dreams are just dreams and should stay exactly where they belong, your mind keeps dragging you back to it, making it impossible to separate reality from the embarrassing memories your stupid brain has decided to create. It’s exhausting. More than anything, it’s humiliating.
Jungkook greets everyone one by one exactly as he always does. He wraps Celeste in a warm hug, exchanges a firm handshake with Dohyun before finally making his way toward you.
Your stomach drops the moment you realize he’s leaning down to greet you with a kiss on both cheeks.
Complete panic takes over before you can even react.
“Hello, sweetheart.” The nickname is nothing unusual. He’s called you sweetheart more times than you could ever count, always with the same casual affection, always without attaching any hidden meaning to it whatsoever.
So why does hearing it now suddenly make your entire body tense?
Your thoughts scatter in every possible direction.
You’ve spent years making sure he never notices anything.
You’ve always forced yourself to behave normally around him, making sure that your voice and your actions never betray the slightest hesitation that could reveal what you’ve spent so long trying to bury. You’ve become so good at pretending that sometimes you’ve almost managed to fool yourself.
But that stupid dream has ruined everything.
It has unsettled you in ways you hadn’t thought possible,making something you’ve done hundreds of times suddenly feel impossible.
Trying to return the greeting before the silence becomes awkward, you instinctively turn your head toward him at exactly the wrong moment.
Instead of moving past each other naturally, you both shift in the same direction. For one impossibly long second, your faces end up only a few inches apart.
Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
Close enough that your brain completely forgets how to function.
A startled squeak escapes your lips before you quickly stumble backward, almost tripping over your own feet in a desperate attempt to put some distance between the two of you.
“Sorry.”
The apology leaves your mouth automatically- barely louder than a whisper.
Without giving yourself the chance to look at him again, you immediately turn back toward the table, pretending to be completely focused on adjusting the cutlery, straightening glasses that don’t actually need straightening…anything to keep your hands occupied long enough for your racing heartbeat to calm down.
Behind you, you hear a quiet chuckle. Not mocking, just amused by the awkwardness of the moment.
Jungkook doesn’t comment on what happened. He simply walks back over to Dohyun as if nothing unusual has happened at all, immediately slipping into whatever conversation your brother and his wife were already having.
Their voices continue in the background, blending together until they become nothing more than an indistinct murmur.
You don’t catch a single word. The only sound you’re capable of hearing is the relentless pounding of your own heart echoing inside your ears.
At this point, you’re convinced you’re actually losing your mind. Because this isn’t you. You’ve never been like this around him. And whatever that dream has done to you, you have to shake off the lingering effects of it before anyone catches on. Especially Jungkook.
Because if this keeps happening every time he simply stands a little too close to you, surviving the rest of this dinner is going to be far more difficult than you ever imagined.
.✦ ݁˖
Eventually, everyone settles around the table, the dishes Celeste has prepared are now arranged neatly in the center, filling the room with the comforting smell of home-cooked food. She watches everyone with quiet satisfaction as you begin helping yourselves, insisting that nobody leaves the table hungry before she even thinks about serving herself.
For the first few minutes, the only sounds are the clinking of cutlery against plates and the occasional compliment directed at Celeste, who pretends not to care despite the proud smile that keeps finding its way back onto her face.
“So… Hawaii, huh?”
Dohyun is the first to speak, glancing across the table at Jungkook with an amused smile that immediately tells you he already knows exactly what kind of reaction he’s about to get.
Sure enough, Jungkook’s face lights up almost instantly. His eyes brighten with unmistakable excitement, and although he tries to sound casual, there’s no hiding how much he’s looking forward to it.
“Sophie and I have always wanted to go there.” he explains, resting his forearms against the edge of the table. “We figured it would be the perfect opportunity to finally cross it off our bucket list, especially if we get to spend the time there with the people we love.”
Without saying a word, you reach for the bottle of wine beside your plate and slowly fill your glass, keeping your eyes on the dark liquid as it rises while quietly listening to the conversation around you. You have to admit it’s an incredibly thoughtful idea. Most couples would probably choose to leave on their own, taking advantage of the chance to spend a few peaceful days together before getting caught up in the chaos of the wedding. Instead, they’ve decided to turn it into something everyone can share, inviting the people closest to them to create memories together before one of the biggest days of their lives.
It’s genuinely a very kind gesture.
“The hotel’s incredible!” Jungkook continues with an excited laugh, shaking his head as though he still can’t quite believe they’ve actually booked it. “Seriously, you guys have no idea. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Celeste immediately starts asking questions, wanting to know every little detail she hasn’t already heard. Has he planned any excursions? Have they already decided what you’ll be doing each day? Before long, however, the conversation naturally shifts away from Hawaii altogether and settles on the wedding instead, with Celeste enthusiastically asking about final fittings and all the little details that still need to be taken care of before the ceremony.
You remain mostly quiet, occasionally taking another sip of wine while absentmindedly moving food around your plate, but every time someone mentions the wedding, you feel something inside your chest tighten ever so slightly.
Almost two months. The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it.
Almost two months, and everything will finally become real. Once Jungkook is married, there won’t be any room left for impossible fantasies or foolish hopes you’ve never allowed yourself to voice. Whatever feelings you’ve carried in silence for all these years will have nowhere left to go except the furthest corners of your mind, where you’ll force them to stay until they eventually become nothing more than distant memories.
The wedding will be the point of no return.
As painful as that thought is, maybe it’s exactly what you need. Maybe accepting reality completely will finally allow you to leave all of this behind.
“Sweetheart, what about you? What’s new?”
The sound of Jungkook’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts so suddenly that you almost flinch.
When you look up, you find him watching you with genuine curiosity, his attention entirely focused on you now while everyone else waits for your answer.
Almost instinctively, you shift in your chair.
The appetite you had only moments ago disappears without warning.
“Yeah… uh-” You clear your throat, forcing yourself to smile. “I’m doing okay. Just working, as usual.”
You hide behind an easy answer. Simple enough that nobody has any reason to question it. The truth, however, is that work hasn’t been the only thing occupying your thoughts lately.
For quite some time now, you’ve been seriously considering going back to college, although this time you would choose a completely different path from the one you walked away from years ago.
Whenever your mind drifts back to Law school, you don’t remember the lectures or the exams first. What comes back instead is the overwhelming exhaustion that slowly swallowed every part of your life, until finding the strength to get out of bed every morning felt like climbing a mountain. You remember forcing yourself to sit through classes that left you feeling emptier every single day, convincing yourself that if you just kept pushing a little longer, eventually things would get better. They never did.
Little by little, you stopped recognizing yourself.
Walking away had felt like admitting failure.
For months afterward, you carried that guilt everywhere, convinced you had given up because you simply weren’t capable of finishing what you’d started. Only much later did you understand that leaving had probably been the healthiest decision you’d made in years.
Your therapist helped you see that.
Week after week, she gave you the space to untangle thoughts you hadn’t even realized were weighing you down, helping you rebuild yourself piece by piece until life slowly stopped feeling like something you merely had to endure. She didn’t just help you recover, she helped you remember that you were allowed to choose a future that actually made you happy.
Somewhere during that process, a new possibility quietly began taking shape.
You found yourself wondering what it would be like to become the kind of person who could offer someone else the same support you had once needed so desperately. The idea of studying psychology had never crossed your mind before, yet the more you thought about it, the more it felt like something that genuinely belonged to you instead of something you were trying to convince yourself to love.
Nothing has been decided yet. For now, it’s simply an idea you’ve been carefully protecting.
Saying it out loud somehow makes it feel fragile, as though sharing it before you’re absolutely certain might make it disappear altogether.
So you keep it to yourself. When the time feels right, everyone will know.
Until then, work is a much easier answer.
“That’s very good.” Jungkook says with an encouraging smile, completely unaware that behind those few ordinary words lies a future you’re still too afraid to speak into existence.
.✦ ݁˖
The rest of the evening passes almost effortlessly, the conversation flowing from one topic to another without anyone ever having to force it. Laughter fills the room so often that, after a while, it becomes part of the background, blending with the sound of glasses being refilled.
You find yourself laughing too.
Watching Dohyun and Jungkook together has always been strangely comforting. Every now and then, you forget just how deeply they care for each other until you see them sharing stories only the two of them could possibly understand, interrupting one another to argue over details that happened years ago before inevitably bursting into laughter halfway through the disagreement.
Their friendship has never needed to be explained.
It’s visible in the way they look at each other whenever one of them starts telling an old story, already knowing exactly how it’s going to end. It’s there in the effortless teasing, in the familiarity that only comes from growing up side by side, from making mistakes together, from witnessing every version of the other person without ever choosing to leave.
They begin reminiscing about college, laughing over disastrous group projects, impossible exams, nights spent surviving on instant noodles and energy drinks because neither of them had enough money-or enough common sense- to take proper care of themselves. Celeste rolls her eyes every few minutes, clearly having heard these stories countless times before, yet she still smiles as though she’s listening for the first time.
You quietly watch them while tracing the rim of your wine glass with your fingertips.
The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it- if Dohyun and Jungkook had never become friends, your life would have looked completely different.
You probably never would’ve met him. Maybe your heart would’ve belonged to someone else by now, you would’ve fallen in love with someone capable of loving you back.
Maybe you would’ve spared yourself years of silently carrying feelings that were never yours to confess.
Life would’ve been easier, and the thought should comfort you. Instead, all it leaves behind is an emptiness you don’t quite know how to explain.
Because imagining a life where Jungkook doesn’t exist somehow hurts even more than imagining one where he never becomes yours.
By the time dinner is over, it’s much later than anyone had realized. Plates have long been emptied, glasses abandoned wherever the conversation happened to carry them, and the evening slowly begins coming to an end.
After helping clear the table despite Celeste’s insistence that she’ll take care of everything tomorrow, you finally make your way toward the front door, stepping outside.
You and Jungkook say your goodbyes almost at the same time, thanking Celeste for dinner while Dohyun reminds you (for what feels like the hundredth time) that you should visit more often.
You promise you will. Whether you actually manage to keep that promise is another matter entirely.
The two of you start walking side by side toward your cars at an unhurried pace, the quiet residential street almost completely empty at this hour. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It rarely ever is. Which is exactly why his voice catches you completely off guard.
“So… I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
You glance at him, curious.
“Why don’t you want me to know who the guy you like is?” For a split second, you genuinely forget how to breathe. Your body almost comes to a complete stop before you force your feet to keep moving.
This is a nightmare. You need to get away from this conversation before it goes any further.
Lately, he’s been asking too many questions.
Questions that seem harmless to him but feel dangerously close to the truth every single time they leave his mouth.
The fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore suddenly settles heavily inside your chest.
What if he’s starting to suspect something?
What if you’ve already slipped up without realizing it?
What if all those little moments you thought you’d hidden so carefully haven’t been nearly as invisible as you convinced yourself they were?
“Well…”
The word hangs awkwardly in the air while your mind desperately searches for something, anything, that sounds believable. Nothing comes.
The longer you stay silent, the worse it becomes.
Every passing second feels like another opportunity for him to look a little closer.
Another chance for him to see straight through you.
“I’m… embarrassed.” you admit quietly, forcing the words out before your silence says too much. “I don’t want you to pity me.”
He stops walking altogether. Before you even have time to react, his hands gently settle on your shoulders, turning you toward him until you’re left with no choice but to meet his eyes.
“You know I’d never do that.”
His voice is calm. Reassuring.
“You can trust me.”
For a moment, you simply stare at him.
The streetlights are too far away to do much, leaving the stars above to cast the softest light across his face. His eyes seem impossibly bright beneath the night sky, warm and open in that way that’s always made it so easy to believe every word he says.
He’s breathtaking.
Kindness has somehow found a permanent home inside him, because every expression he makes is genuine.
The longer you look at him, the more impossible it becomes to imagine a version of your life where you never fell in love with him.
You know there never was one.
The outcome had been decided long before you ever realized what was happening.
“I know that, Kook…” you whisper, forcing a small smile onto your lips. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”
He studies your face for another second before finally letting his hands fall back to his sides.
“Alright, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t insist. He never does. The two of you start walking again, and this time silence settles between you for good. You knew this would happen. You should’ve never opened up to him in the first place.
The day he asked whether there was someone you liked, you should’ve laughed, denied everything and taken that lie with you to your grave if necessary. Instead, you’d let yourself feel safe. That has always been the problem.
Jungkook has never made you feel out of place. Never made you feel foolish. With him, words seem to come easier than they should. Before you even realize it, you’ve already confessed things you swore you’d keep to yourself forever.
You reach his car before either of you says another word. A warm breeze brushes past, gently lifting strands of your hair before carrying them across your face. He unlocks the car but doesn’t immediately reach for the door.
Instead, he turns back toward you.
“You know I’ll always be there for you, Y/n.” His voice is quiet, almost swallowed by the night around you. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me. I’d never judge you. There isn’t anything you could tell me that would ever make me think less of you.”
Your chest tightens so suddenly it almost hurts.
That’s who Jungkook has always been.
No matter how difficult life becomes, he somehow always knows exactly what to say to make the people he loves feel safe. He has spent years reassuring you without ever realizing how much those words mean, constantly reminding you that you can lean on him whenever things become too heavy to carry alone. He’s always been there. Every single time.
It doesn’t matter how much pain loving him has caused you over the years- you’d go through it all over again if you knew Jungkook would still be by your side.
You keep telling yourself that everything will get better once the wedding is over. You repeat it so often that it should feel true by now. Somewhere deep in your heart though, you know it won’t.
Instead, you feel as though your entire life has begun revolving around a date that doesn’t even belong to you, as though you’re counting down to a moment that will change everything while having absolutely no place in it.
It’s like you’re standing on the outside of someone else’s story, watching it unfold exactly the way it’s supposed to while desperately wishing your own heart would stop acting as though it has any right to break.
You look at him and, despite yourself, a small smile finds its way onto your face.
His expression remains neutral for a second, almost curious, before he unconsciously mirrors you, the corners of his lips lifting into one of those wide, teeth-showing smiles.
Your heart shatters quietly. This is the smile Sophie gets to come home to every evening after work. This is the smile waiting for her at the end of an ordinary day, the smile that belongs to her life, her future.
Is this the same smile he’ll have on his face when he’s standing at the altar, waiting for her to walk toward him?
Will this same expression light up his face the first time he holds one of their future children?
The images appear so vividly inside your mind that they almost feel real. For years, you’ve waited for a miracle that was never coming.
You’ve spent countless nights lying awake, whispering desperate prayers into the darkness, begging anyone who might be listening to let things somehow work out differently, to let the impossible happen just once, to let him choose you. Nothing ever answered.
Your lips begin trembling before you even realize it. The warmth behind your eyes builds so quickly that it catches you completely off guard.
You try to stop it before it fully settles in, but it’s already there. you blink once, then twice, hoping it will clear, but it doesn’t work. It lingers anyway, impossible to push away, rising quietly no matter how hard you try to hold it back.
A single tear escapes despite your efforts, slipping silently down your cheek before falling onto the pavement between your feet.
“Sweetheart…”
His voice is barely above a whisper, and you can’t look at him. If you meet his eyes now, you’re terrified he’ll finally see it. Not the tears, but the love behind them. The years you’ve spent hiding every glance, every heartbeat, every impossible feeling.
You lower your head, desperately willing yourself to stop crying, but before you can say anything, you suddenly feel his arms wrap carefully around you. The embrace is gentle. Uncertain at first, as though he’s trying to comfort you without overwhelming you. His familiar scent surrounds you almost instantly, leaving no room for anything else. Without thinking, you cling to him firmly, burying your face against his chest until you’re no longer sure whether the tightness in your lungs comes from crying or simply from being so impossibly close to the one person you’ve spent years trying not to love. You don’t know what finally broke inside you.
You don’t know why tonight, of all nights, your emotions refuse to stay where you’ve always managed to keep them. All you know is that no place in the world has ever felt as safe as his arms. You could stay there forever if life were kinder.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” he murmurs softly above your head, his hand gently rubbing slow circles against your back. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” you immediately reply. The words come out in a breath that feels thinner than you expect, almost unstable. Admitting it out loud somehow makes everything inside you a little harder to hold together.
Jungkook eases out of the hug just enough to look at you properly, not creating distance, just shifting so he can see your face better. His hands stay on you for a moment longer before rising with quiet care, fingers gently cupping your face in a way that feels so casual it almost makes your chest ache.
He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t fill the silence immediately, just studies you for a second, his gaze soft but focused, as if he’s trying to gather all the pieces of you that are falling apart together.
Then, with a patience that never seems to run out when it comes to you, he wipes away what’s left of your tears, his thumb brushing carefully beneath your eye, slow enough to feel unfair.
“Please don’t say that.” he murmurs, voice low and steady, completely unbothered by the tension you can’t seem to shake off, “nothing’s wrong with you, love. I promise things will get better.”
Love.
It lands in your chest in a way you don’t know how to explain, not because it’s new, but because he says it like it belongs there without question.
You want to believe him. You really do. But you know your own reality too well for that kind of comfort to fully reach you.
Still, you nod faintly, not because you agree, but because you don’t trust your voice to hold up if you try to argue with him.
After a moment, his hands slowly fall away, though the reluctance is clear in the way he does it. The absence of his touch hits you more sharply than you expect, leaving behind a quiet emptiness that settles under your skin without asking permission. The air suddenly feels colder, or maybe it’s just the sudden return of awareness.
You take a small step back, quickly wiping at your face as if you can erase the evidence of the moment before it settles too deeply between you.
There’s a pause. Not awkward exactly, just still.
Jungkook exhales softly, glancing toward your car before looking back at you.
“Text me when you get home.” he says, quieter now, the tone shifting back into something familiar.
You manage a small nod. “I will.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips, gentle and unforced, and he lifts a hand in a small wave that feels simple but strangely personal. “Drive safely.” he adds.
“You too.” you reply, voice steadier than before, though it still doesn’t feel entirely like it belongs to you. You both linger for a second longer than necessary, neither of you moving immediately, as if there’s an unspoken agreement. But eventually the silence settles into something final enough that it dissolves on its own. You turn first toward your car. He does the same a moment later.
No dramatic goodbye, no lingering hesitation that changes anything, just two people returning to their separate directions.
You get in. He gets in.
And when the engine finally starts, the night feels suddenly wider, like the space between you has expanded in a way you can’t quite measure but immediately feel. You don’t look back again.
And as you drive away, with the silence pressing against every corner of the car, a single thought settles in your mind with uncomfortable clarity: in a situation like yours, things hardly ever get better.
They just learn how to hurt in quieter ways.
───────────
author’s note:
They’re going to Hawaii! As I wrote in the chapter- predictable but sooo good :P
Also!!!!! I recall someone telling me how they could see y/n studying psychology and I was like “yeah i mean that could happen but who knows”… brooo I couldn’t spoil it for anybody but I was left speechless😭
Anyway I truly hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as always please let me know what you think of it!💘
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing: brother's best friendljungkook × flreader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut.
warnings: suggestive content.
>>english is not my first language
Chapter 06 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
Jimin had been incredibly supportive throughout your ongoing apartment hunt, even if his attempts to help often did the exact opposite.
At this point, it felt as though you had spent endless days going from one viewing to another, stepping into countless apartments and trying to picture yourself living there, only to leave disappointed every single time. No matter how many places you visited, none of them ever seemed quite right.
One apartment was ridiculously oversized for a single person, another was outrageously expensive, one had a strange smell that reminded you of rotten eggs, and another was so dark and gloomy that it felt more like a basement than a home.
Dohyun had even suggested that you move into the apartment next door to his, but the idea of having to deal with his annoying ass 24 hours a day was enough to make you reject the offer without a second thought.
As a result, you find yourself sprawled across Layla’s bed once again, staring dramatically at the ceiling while letting out an exaggerated groan every few seconds.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to find a place at this rate” you complain.
Layla gives her blonde hair one final brush before setting it aside and climbing onto the bed beside you, fully prepared for the last-minute sleepover she insisted on organizing.
“You will, my dear friend.” she assures you with a smile. “These things take time.”
You watch as she reaches for the remote control, shifting comfortably against the headboard before finally grabbing the bowl of popcorn she left on her nightstand nearly ten minutes earlier.
“I know” you sigh. “I’m just tired of looking. I really want a place of my own.”
The look on her face immediately softens. She understands exactly what you mean. Moving out for the first time is exciting, but finding the right place is far more stressful than most people expect.
“You know my door is always open for you” she says casually, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Honestly, I could use a roommate.”
For a moment, you simply stare at her. The possibility has never crossed your mind before. Of course, Layla is your best friend- basically family at this point- but somehow the idea of actually living together never seemed like a realistic option. Now that she mentions it, though, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense.
“Wait” you say, suddenly sitting upright. “Are you serious?”
Your excitement is immediate. You scramble across the mattress until you’re beside her, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Of course I’m serious, babygirl” she laughs. “You’re basically the sister I never had. Helping you out is the least I can do. Besides, just imagine how much fun we’d have living together.”
Maybe finding the perfect apartment is taking longer than expected, but at least now you know you have another option. You thank her as you go back in your spot.
“Has Yoongi reached out yet?”
Layla barely glances in your direction, her attention fixed on the television as she scrolls endlessly through Netflix, rejecting every single option that appears on the screen.
At some point during the evening, you had finally told her everything that has happened over the past few days.
Naturally, she spends the first five minutes being offended that you didn’t immediately run to her and unload all your problems onto her shoulders. Once she gets over it though, she understands why you’ve kept everything to yourself.
“Yeah” you answer, reaching for another handful of popcorn. “He keeps texting me.”
That finally catches her attention.
She pauses her search and rests the remote against her thighs, turning her head to look at you properly for the first time in several minutes.
“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know…” A teasing smile pulls at her lips. “Answer him?”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. Without saying a word, you unlock your phone and hand it to her.
“I know” you mumble. “But my ego is currently stronger than my sense of compassion.”
Layla snorts. As she scrolls through the conversation, her eyebrows gradually climb higher and higher. There are messages everywhere. Requests to meet, to talk. Apologies. More apologies. A few desperate attempts at making you laugh. By the time she reaches the most recent text, she’s counted well over twenty unanswered messages.
“Your ego really is something else.” she says with a laugh, handing the phone back to you.
“Thank you.”
Layla shakes her head, unable to stop smiling.
“Seriously, though. At least hear him out.”
Your fingers tighten slightly around your phone. You know she’s right. Ignoring him forever isn’t exactly a sustainable plan, no matter how satisfying it feels in the moment. The truth is that every unread message makes your stomach twist a little more than the last. Every notification has you staring at the screen longer than you’d like to admit. You miss Yoongi. Because despite everything, a part of you wants to know what he has to say.
“I will” you say quietly after a moment.
Layla studies your expression for a second but wisely chooses not to push any further. You lean back against the headboard, pretending to focus on whatever movie she finally settles on, while doing your best to ignore the knot forming in your stomach at the thought of eventually having to face him.
.✦ ݁˖
About a week later, you finally start moving your things into Layla’s apartment.
The process turns out to be far more exhausting than you expected, mostly because you apparently own an unreasonable number of books, clothes, and random objects you convinced yourself were important enough to keep. Thankfully, Dohyun takes care of most of the heavy lifting, carrying box after box down the stairs while complaining the entire time. On the rare occasions when he can’t find a free afternoon, Jungkook unexpectedly steps in and helps without making a big deal out of it, showing up in comfortable clothes and carrying furniture as if it weighs nothing.
By the end of the week, your childhood bedroom looks almost unrecognizable. The shelves that once held years of memories sit half empty, the walls feel strangely bare, and the room that has belonged to you for most of your life suddenly feels like a place you’re visiting rather than a place you live in.
The last box is being loaded into Dohyun’s car when your mother starts crying for what feels like the fifth time that morning.
“Mom, stop being so dramatic.” you say with a laugh, although the sight of her wiping away tears makes your chest tighten a little. “I’m literally ten minutes away.”
Your father pats her back gently, trying to comfort her while failing to hide the emotional look in his own eyes.
“I know honey.” your mother says, shaking her head as she dabs at her cheeks. “It’s just going to be so strange not having you around all the time. We’re going to miss you so much.”
The warmth that spreads through your chest catches you off guard. You’ve spent months dreaming about moving out, about having your own space and your own routine, but seeing your parents struggle to let you go makes the moment feel far more significant than you expected.
Without thinking twice, you drop the suitcase in your hand and wrap your arms around both of them.
“I love you guys so much.” you mumble against your mother’s shoulder. “And seriously, stop worrying. It’s not like I’m disappearing.”
Your father presses a kiss to the top of your head while your mother squeezes you tightly enough to make you laugh. After a few more emotional goodbyes and several reminders to call them every day, you finally climb into the passenger seat of Dohyun’s car.
“Damn..” he says as he fastens his seatbelt and starts the engine. “They definitely weren’t this sad when I moved out.”
You grin immediately, already knowing exactly how to answer.
“That’s because I’m their favorite child.”
Dohyun lets out an exaggerated groan and shakes his head. “You’ve been living away from home for approximately thirty seconds and you’re already unbearable.”
“Jealousy is not a good look on you, brother.” you reply, earning yourself a glare that only makes you laugh harder.
By the time you arrive at Layla’s apartment, your excitement has completely taken over. The two of you immediately start carrying boxes inside, and with every trip up the stairs the apartment feels a little more like home.
“Girl, I’m literally so excited.” Layla says as she throws herself dramatically onto your newly made bed. “I have my baby all to myself now.”
You raise both hands in celebration, and she does the same, the two of you cheering as if you’ve just won an award. From the doorway, Dohyun watches the scene unfold with the exhausted expression of a man questioning every decision that led him here.
“You’re both ridiculous.” he mutters.
“You love us.” Layla replies without missing a beat.
“I tolerate you.”
“Same thing.” you and Layla answer in unison, which only makes him groan louder.
It takes a few days to unpack everything and settle in properly, but the adjustment happens faster than you expected. Since you and Layla work at the same cafè, your schedules naturally line up, making it easy to fall into a routine together. Mornings are spent fighting over the bathroom and rushing to make breakfast before work, while evenings usually end with both of you collapsed on the couch, complaining about customers and sharing takeout.
For the first time in months, you feel settled.
Of course, because Layla is physically incapable of doing anything in a subtle way, she decides that your newfound independence deserves a proper celebration. Not a small gathering, but a full blown housewarming party filled with decorations, snacks, and far more people than your apartment should realistically be able to hold.
By Saturday night, every room is filled with conversation. Music plays softly in the background while people move between the kitchen and living room carrying drinks, stealing food, and talking over one another. You’re standing near the kitchen counter with a beer in your hand when Jimin appears beside you and nudges your shoulder hard enough to nearly make you spill it.
“Looks like you finally found somewhere to stay, huh?” he says with a satisfied smile.
You shoot him a side eye before nudging him back. “Yeah, Layla was kind enough to let me move in. And despite your questionable apartment recommendations, you were still very kind, so thank you for trying.”
Jimin places a hand dramatically over his chest. “Questionable? My recommendations were top tier.”
“One of them had rats in it.”
“Exactly. Top tier.”
You laugh and shake your head, and he pulls you into a quick hug before stepping back with an expression that is surprisingly sincere.
“I’m glad you found a place you like.” he says quietly.
Before you can answer, Jungkook approaches the two of you with a drink in his hand and a grin that immediately makes you suspicious.
“Sweetheart, I’m so proud of you!” he says. “No more curfews, huh?”
You roll your eyes so hard they nearly hurt and stick your tongue out at him, which only makes him laugh.
He has clearly come straight from work. His dark hair is messy, his black t-shirt clings to his chest and the tattoos running down his skin are fully visible beneath the rolled up sleeves. The tiredness in his eyes should make him look exhausted, but somehow it has the opposite effect.
You hate the fact that you find it attractive.
To avoid thinking about that too much, you raise your glass and take another sip. Judging by the pleasant warmth spreading through your body, you’ve probably had more alcohol than you originally intended.
“Everyone gather around!” Layla suddenly shouts from the living room.
You turn to find her standing on top of a chair like she’s about to make a political announcement. Laughter immediately erupts throughout the apartment as people begin moving toward her.
“Who’s up for a round of Never Have I Ever?” she asks dramatically.
A collective groan rises from the crowd. You swear you see Namjoon physically facepalm, and for a brief, beautiful moment you think the idea might die before it starts.
“Honey, we are way too old for that.” Hoseok says, raising an eyebrow at Layla while taking a sip of his drink. Relief floods through you. Perfect. The game is canceled. Everyone moves on. You survive.
“I’m in.” Sophie says immediately.
“Me too.” Taehyung adds at the exact same time, earning an excited high five from her.
Your relief disappears instantly.
One by one, everyone else starts agreeing, including Namjoon that has accepted his fate with surprisingly no complaints. Soon, a large circle forms in the middle of the living room, while you remain standing near the couch, suddenly unable to move.
“What are you doing over there?” Layla asks, patting the floor beside her. “Come sit next to me.”
You reluctantly join the circle, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your palms are already slightly sweaty, your face feels warm from the alcohol. Games like this have never been your thing. You hate talking about yourself, especially in front of this many people.
Taehyung eagerly volunteers to start. He taps his chin dramatically while pretending to think, clearly enjoying the fact that everyone is watching him.
“Never have I ever peed my pants within the last few years.” he finally announces.
Laughter immediately fills the room. The question catches you so off guard that you almost let your drink fall from your hand. As people react with various levels of disgust and amusement, your eyes drift around the circle until you notice both Jimin and Dohyun quietly taking a sip.
You stare at your brother in disbelief.
“Wait..” you say, laughing despite yourself. “Are you seriously telling me you peed your pants?”
Dohyun immediately looks offended. “I was extremely drunk and disoriented.” he says defensively, twirling his beer in his hand as though that explanation somehow helps.
“Whatever you say bro.” you reply, earning yourself a middle finger and another wave of laughter from everyone else. Jimin, meanwhile, doesn’t even bother defending himself, which somehow makes the entire situation funnier. When the laughter finally dies down, Jungkook takes his turn.
“Never have I ever liked someone older than me.”
Your eyes widen before you quickly look down at your drink. Fortunately, you’re not the only person drinking. Trying to appear casual, you take a slow sip and keep your expression as neutral as possible. Your eyes drift toward Jungkook at the exact wrong moment.
He’s already looking at you.
The eye contact lasts barely a second, but it’s enough to make your breath catch. You almost choke on your drink as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks, and you immediately lower your gaze before anyone can notice. Thankfully, nobody seems interested in investigating further. Sophie, however, looks far too excited as she prepares her own question.
“Never have I ever thought about stealing someone else’s partner.”
Your heart immediately starts pounding, of course she’d ask that. Layla takes a sip first, triggering a chorus of shocked gasps, dramatic “no ways” and ironic accusations from everyone around the circle. While the attention remains focused on her, you quietly raise your own bottle and take a sip, hoping the movement goes unnoticed.
It doesn’t.
Sophie’s eyes land on you almost instantly, and her mouth falls open in disbelief. “No way. Who was it? Do we know him? Tell us!” Beside her, Jungkook smirks into his drink, looking far too entertained by the situation. The apartment suddenly feels much smaller than it did a few minutes ago. Your grip tightens around the bottle as panic begins creeping into your chest, and you become painfully aware of how many eyes are now fixed directly on you.
Desperate for an escape, your gaze immediately finds Taehyung across the circle. Thankfully, he understands.
“Come on guys.” he says with a laugh, cutting through the growing chorus of questions. “Leave her alone. She clearly doesn’t want to tell you.”
Relief washes over you so quickly that you nearly sag in place as the attention finally shifts away from you and the game moves on to the next person.
.✦ ݁˖
The evening gradually comes to an end about two hours later, and although the apartment is still filled with the lingering warmth of laughter and conversation, people have started gathering their belongings and finishing the last few drops of alcohol left in their cups. What had felt loud and chaotic only a short while ago slowly settles into something quieter, the energy of the party fading naturally as the night grows later.
To your surprise, the guys stay behind to help clean.
Not that you’re complaining.
After hosting that many people, the apartment looks exactly the way you expected it to look: abandoned cups scattered across every available surface, half empty snack bowls sitting forgotten on tables, and enough empty bottles to make you question some of your friends’ life choices.
You’re moving around the living room collecting cups when the smell of stale alcohol immediately reaches your nose. It isn’t unpleasant exactly, but it’s enough to remind you once again that you’ve probably had more to drink than originally intended. Not enough to be drunk, thankfully, but enough that your thoughts feel softer around the edges and your emotions a little more difficult to ignore.
You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you don’t immediately notice Jungkook approaching. Only when his voice reaches you do you finally look up.
“Is it the guy you like?”
The question is so unexpected that your entire body stills. For a second, you genuinely wonder whether you’ve heard him correctly. Slowly, you lift your head and find him standing beside the coffee table, casually reaching for the bowl of popcorn that you and Layla left out for the guests. His movements are completely relaxed, as though he hasn’t just asked a question capable of sending your heart into immediate cardiac arrest.
“What?”
The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it. Jungkook glances toward you briefly before returning his attention to the bowl in his hands.
“The person you drank for.” he clarifies, his tone frustratingly casual. “During the game.”
Your stomach immediately drops. Jungkook has always been observant, often picking up on details everyone else misses entirely. Looking back, you honestly don’t know why you had hoped your reaction to go unnoticed. The second you drank, your entire body had practically short circuited. Trying desperately to appear unaffected, you force out a laugh.
“Obviously, dumbass.”
Sarcasm immediately becomes your shield of choice. Whenever you’re nervous, embarrassed, flustered or emotionally compromised in any way, sarcasm is usually the first thing you reach for. Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn’t appear remotely convinced. Instead, he continues watching you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, and the realization alone is enough to make your pulse speed up.
“Have you ever tried to make a move?”
This time you don’t even attempt to hide your shock. Your head snaps toward him so quickly that it almost hurts.
“What kind of question is that?”
The offended disbelief in your voice only seems to amuse him. A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, but it disappears before you can fully decide whether you imagined it.
“What?” he asks as you stare at him.
“Why would you even ask me that?”
He shrugs. The simple gesture somehow irritates you more than it should.
“I don’t know. I’m curious.”
“Well, don’t be.”
The answer comes out immediately. Because unlike many things in your life, this one requires absolutely no thought.
“I would never try something with somebody who’s already involved with someone else.”
The memory of Sophie’s answer from earlier immediately flashes through your mind, making you cringe all over again.
“I actually respect people.”
The jab is obvious. Painfully obvious. Jungkook notices it immediately, judging by the way amusement briefly vanishes from his face, but thankfully he chooses not to comment on it.
For a moment, neither of you says anything.
The apartment feels strangely quiet despite the fact that several people are still talking nearby. You can hear Hoseok and Jimin arguing about something in the kitchen, while Layla is unsuccessfully attempting to convince Namjoon that throwing things directly into a trash bag counts as cleaning. Normally those sounds would be enough to keep your attention occupied.
Right now, however, all you’re aware of is Jungkook standing in front of you. Then he nods.
“Good.”
Your eyebrows immediately pull together.
“Good?”
The answer makes absolutely no sense. Why good? Why would he care? Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, and something about the look in his eyes makes your stomach tighten.
“Yeah.” he says quietly. You wait for him to elaborate, part of you desperately hopes he won’t. A much larger part desperately hopes he will. When the silence stretches for another second, disappointment begins settling inside your chest before you can stop it.
Then he finally speaks.
“Because it would be easy to fall for you.”
For a brief moment, your brain completely stops functioning. Every coherent thought vanishes. You stare at him without blinking, convinced that your ears have somehow failed you. Because surely there is no possible universe in which Jungkook has just looked directly at you and said something like that. Yet the expression on his face remains perfectly calm, as though he hasn’t just destroyed your ability to think. As though he hasn’t just handed your hopeless feelings exactly the kind of fuel they absolutely do not need.
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not a single word. Because what exactly are you supposed to say to that? The sentence immediately begins replaying itself inside your head.
Because it would be easy to fall for you.
The words settle somewhere deep inside your chest before echoing through every thought that follows. A rush of excitement spreads through you so quickly that it almost feels embarrassing. Your heart reacts before your brain has the opportunity to intervene, immediately latching onto the possibility that maybe- just maybe- that sentence means exactly what you want it to mean. Unfortunately, the rational side of your personality quickly reminds you that hope has never been particularly kind to you.
Jungkook is affectionate,naturally charming.
He compliments people all the time, has always been the type of person who says things without fully realizing the effect they have on others. There are countless innocent explanations for what he has just said. Countless. So many, in fact, that allowing yourself to believe the most dangerous one would be completely ridiculous. And yet no matter how hard you try, none of those explanations manage to quiet the excitement spreading through your chest.
Regardless of what he meant, regardless of whether the comment was innocent or not, Jungkook still looked at you and admitted that falling for you would be easy. The thought alone is enough to make your stomach flip. Completely unaware of the emotional crisis currently unfolding inside your head, Jungkook simply picks up the bowl of popcorn and turns toward the kitchen.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
The nickname somehow makes everything worse. You watch him walk away, still incapable of forming a coherent response. Only once he disappears into the kitchen do you finally release the breath you’ve apparently been holding. You remain standing exactly where he left you, the forgotten plastic cup still trapped between your fingers while your eyes stay fixed on the doorway he disappeared through. It takes a considerable amount of effort to force yourself back into reality, because every coherent thought seems to have abandoned you the moment those words left his mouth.
“We’ve got it from here, guys. Thank you for helping.” Layla’s voice finally pulls you back to reality. You blink several times before turning toward her. She tosses the last empty bottle into a trash bag and brushes her hands together triumphantly. The apartment already looks significantly better than it did twenty minutes ago.
One by one, everyone begins saying their goodbyes. You hug Sophie, promise Hoseok you’ll answer his messages tomorrow, listen to Namjoon remind everyone to get home safely, wave goodbye to Jimin and Taehyung, exchange one final insult with Dohyun. Throughout all of it, however, your mind remains hopelessly occupied.
Because it would be easy to fall for you.
The sentence follows you everywhere. It lingers at the back of your mind while you walk everyone to the door. While you lock the apartment. While you throw away the remaining trash. While you breathe.
The apartment finally falls silent. You close the door behind them and rest your back against it for a moment, allowing yourself to release a long breath. The sudden absence of noise feels almost surreal after spending hours surrounded by people, and the quiet gives your thoughts far more room to wander than they probably should have. Layla immediately notices your exhausted expression.
Without saying a word, she opens her arms and you happily step into the hug.
“Thank you for tonight.” you says, squeezing her tightly. A smile immediately appears on her face.
“And thank you for letting me live here.”
“Best decision I’ve ever made.”
You laugh softly before wishing her goodnight and heading toward your room.
After changing into your pajamas and washing your face, you finally collapse onto your bed, fully expecting exhaustion to knock you unconscious within minutes. Unfortunately, sleep never comes.
The second the lights go out and you’re left alone with your thoughts, Jungkook immediately returns. You roll onto one side, then the other, then onto your back. The blankets suddenly feel too warm against your skin, forcing you to push them down toward your waist.
This is ridiculous. Yet no matter how many times you tell yourself that, the thought refuses to leave.
Because the truth is that Jungkook has absolutely no idea. He has no idea how often he occupies your thoughts. No idea that you instinctively look for him whenever you enter a room. No idea that hearing his voice somehow improves your mood. No idea that you’ve spent weeks trying and failing to convince yourself that whatever exists between the two of you is completely harmless.
Most importantly, he has no idea that falling for him wasn’t easy. It was effortless.
Somewhere between teasing conversations, lingering glances, casual touches, late night messages and the simple comfort of being around him, your feelings kept evolving into something much more dangerous. The realization remains with you as exhaustion slowly begins pulling you toward sleep. Your breathing gradually slows as your eyelids grow heavier.
.✦ ݁˖
You suddenly hear a knock on your door that slices through the heavy silence of the night, and for a moment your mind refuses to accept reality as you turn toward the clock on your bedside table only to see that it’s 4 a.m.
You rub your eyes in irritation, already angry at whoever has dared to pull you out of such a deep and comforting sleep. You slip on your slippers, still half lost in dreams as another short knock follows- more insistent this time- and you grumble under your breath, struggling to keep your eyelids open while your body moves on instinct more than intention.
Your gaze drifts briefly toward the window where heavy rain is falling relentlessly from the sky, and you find yourself thinking how strangely unpredictable the weather has been with June just around the corner. You shake your head and force your attention back to the present, rushing toward the front door with a strong sense of annoyance and curiosity tangled together.
When you open it, the sight in front of you makes your thoughts stop entirely because Jungkook is standing there completely drenched, his hair dark and heavy with rain, clinging messily to his forehead. His clothes from earlier now soaked through and sticking to his body in a way that reveals the tension in his muscles, and for a second you are so stunned that you forget to react at all. Only then do you snap out of it, your voice breaking through the moment.
“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask, immediately stepping aside to let him in while confusion begins replacing your initial surprise. “It’s four in the morning.”
He slowly runs a hand through his wet hair, his tongue briefly brushing over his lower lip in a gesture that feels almost too deliberate, too charged for the situation, making your thoughts falter in a way you do not fully want to admit.
“I need to talk to you.” there is something in his voice that does not allow refusal, something heavy and urgent that makes your questions wait.
You close the door behind him and switch on the lights, illuminating the room in a warm glow that somehow makes the situation feel even stranger. The rain continues tapping against the windows while droplets of water slide down his neck and disappear beneath his shirt, and despite trying your best to focus on whatever problem brought him here, your eyes keep betraying you.
“Couldn’t this have waited until morning?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempt to understand why he’s standing in your apartment looking like this in the middle of the night. “What’s so urgent that-”
“Is it me?” he interrupts you.
You stop immediately, his words hanging in the air with a weight you don’t know how to hold. You look at him without understanding what exactly he is asking.
“What?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately, and somehow the silence that follows feels more unsettling than any explanation he could have given you. His gaze remains fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse gradually accelerate, and the longer he looks at you without speaking, the more uncomfortable you become.
Jungkook starts walking toward you, slowly.
You step back instinctively, your body reacting before your mind can decide otherwise.
Something in his gaze feels too direct, too exposed, as if he is peeling away every layer you have carefully tried to keep intact. “Jungkook… what are you-“ you try to say, but he keeps closing the distance, and you keep retreating until your back meets the wall, cold and firm behind you, trapping you in place as he finally stops just inches away.
“Am I the taken guy you love so much?” he asks, and the question lands like a blow you did not see coming, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, your eyes unable to hold his darkened gaze for long as you look away, finding sudden interest in the floor. You know your silence is enough of an answer. You try to speak, to deny it, to soften it, but it comes out fractured. “Jungkook, I- No…” you manage, though it sounds more like a confession than a denial. He lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes again. The touch is gentle but decisive, and you notice how a single drop of water falls from his hair to his lips, the movement satisfyingly intimate, distracting in a way you resent yourself for noticing.
“Y/n” he says again, quieter now, and you feel the weight of your name in his voice as if it has always belonged there. “Tell me the truth. Is it me?”
Your eyes sting almost immediately, overwhelmed by everything you have been holding back, and suddenly you feel painfully small under the intensity of his gaze- there is nowhere in you left to hide. “I’m sorry.” you whisper, the words breaking as they leave your mouth. “I’m so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want to lose you.” The admission feels like surrender, and for a moment everything goes still, the air between you thick with what can’t be undone. Then he exhales, steps back, and runs both hands through his hair as he starts pacing the room, completely ignoring the fact that he is leaving water everywhere, as if none of it matters compared to what is happening inside his head.
“Shit.” he mutters as you stay pressed against the wall, not daring to move. Your chest is rising and falling too quickly, panic tightening in your throat as you watch him fall apart. You try to calm him, your voice shaky as you say his name “Jungkook please, it’s okay.”
But he does not listen, he keeps moving, keeps cursing, and the sight of him like this makes guilt settle heavily in your stomach because you know exactly why he is reacting this way. “Jungkook I’m begging you, just forget about it.” you say, though even as the words leave your mouth you know they are impossible.
He stops abruptly, turning back toward you with a stare that makes you feel exposed all over again.
“What have you done?” he asks, and the question is not loud, but it cuts deeper than anything else. A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, your voice comes out fragile. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.” He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours, and when you continue, your words tremble under the weight of everything you have been carrying for far too long. “I know it’s wrong. I tried so hard to stop it. I hate how I feel and how overwhelming it is. You don’t have to see me anymore, I’m sorry, I will-”
You do not get to finish the sentence because his lips are suddenly on yours, cold from the rain but burning in intention, and the shock of it stills you completely as your mind struggles to catch up with what is happening. He moves slowly at first, almost hesitant, as if he is afraid you will pull away. But when you do not, something shifts between you.
The kiss deepens, turning heavier, everything that has been unspoken is now forcing its way into existence. His hand finds your face, holding you as he kisses you with a growing intensity that makes your breath break against his mouth.
When you finally kiss back, something inside you gives in completely, your arms moving around his neck to pull him closer refusing to let distance separate the two of you, his hot tongue brushing against yours.
He pulls back just slightly, his eyes darker now, searching yours. “Fuck sweetheart, tell me to stop.” he breathes out, the words hang heavily between you.
You do not answer immediately, your breathing still uneven. He leans in closer, his lips brushing from your neck toward your ear, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin as his voice lowers again, softer but more dangerous in its intimacy. “Y/n. Tell me to stop.” he repeats, and you grip the back of his hair almost instinctively, drawing a low sound from him that makes your own control slip further. He doesn’t pull away yet, the trail of kisses he’s now leaving along your neck making it difficult to focus on anything but him.
“Please kook” you whisper back, not as a refusal but as something far more uncertain, and that is enough. He pauses for a brief moment, as if weighing everything silently, before slipping his hands behind your thighs and lifting you with a firm “Up” to which you comply without hesitation, your lips finding his again almost immediately. There’s more hunger in the kiss this time, consuming in a way that makes your head spin, as if the entire room has narrowed down to the space between you.
He moves toward the couch, sitting down with you on his lap as the world outside continues to rain without end. You slowly grind against him, desperation settling in like it has always belonged there. Your body has been waiting for this exact moment long before your mind ever agreed to it. His hands are everywhere on you, and it makes everything inside you tighten until you can barely breathe through it.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
The nickname doesn’t just affect you, it pulls something loose inside your head, like a thread snapping, your thoughts scattering in different directions until nothing makes sense except him, except the way he’s looking at you.
“I want you. I want you so bad, please.”
A slow smirk curves his lips as he cups your face with his tattooed hand, holding you in place like he doesn’t trust you to stay still on your own, apparently you’re already halfway gone.
“Yeah?”
You nod, but it doesn’t feel like a choice, more like something your body does before you can stop it, your hips move harder against him as you lose any concept of restraint, any sense of where the line even is anymore. The feeling of him underneath you is too much and not enough at the same time, a contradiction that makes your head spin and your insides clench.
“Show me.”
You pause, breath unsteady, face flushed, lips parted as your body is trying to catch up with a mind that’s obviously no longer fully there.
“Show me how bad you want me.”
There’s something in the way he says it that feels less like a request and more like permission you didn’t know you were waiting for.
You move without thinking, hands finding the button of his pants clumsily. Your coordination has started slipping away from you, your body is acting on instinct alone while your thoughts blur at the edges. He throws his head back, mouth slightly open, as you finally feel him. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, one hand resting on your thigh.
“Sweetheart, I think you need to wake up.” The words cut through everything, but they don’t break the moment. You look at him, confused. The smirk is still there, almost making you think he hasn’t said anything at all and that you’re just imagining things.
“What?”
He gently pulls your hands away, and you let him.
Slowly, deliberately, he starts undoing the buttons of your shirt instead, never breaking eye contact, his cold fingers brushing against your chest with a precision that feels almost familiar, like this has happened before or will happen again no matter what you do.
“WAKE THE FUCK UP, Y/N.”
The world snaps.
You jolt up, breath tearing through your chest, your forehead almost crashing into Layla’s as she hovers above you.
“What the hell were you dreaming about?”
For a moment you don’t answer.
Your body is still caught somewhere else, your skin still carrying something that shouldn’t be there. The memory of touch has refused to disappear completely, even though nothing is left.
Reality comes back in pieces. The room. Layla’s voice. Your racing heartbeat. The strange emptiness lingering behind your ribs.
“Oh my God.”
───────────
author’s note:
Uhm so.. hi? Yeah, that happened.
You guys don’t understand how much of a sucker I am for tension… I hope I managed to make you feel it too, lol.
As always, let me know what you think of this new chapter, and thank you so much for reading!
˙⋆✮ They say having feelings for your brother's best friend is never a good idea...
But loving Jungkook feels like the easiest thing in the world.
He's been by your side for as long as you can remember, so it's only natural for you to feel devastated when your brother, Dohyun, tells you that Jungkook is about to get married.
For the first time ever, loving him doesn't feel easy at all.
pairing: brother's best friendljungkook × flreader
cw: age gap (jk is 32, reader is 22 ops), tension, reader is WHIPPED, pining, initial unrequited love (my fav), eventual smut.
warnings: suggestive content.
>>english is not my first language
Chapter 06 | masterlist
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
Jimin had been incredibly supportive throughout your ongoing apartment hunt, even if his attempts to help often did the exact opposite.
At this point, it felt as though you had spent endless days going from one viewing to another, stepping into countless apartments and trying to picture yourself living there, only to leave disappointed every single time. No matter how many places you visited, none of them ever seemed quite right.
One apartment was ridiculously oversized for a single person, another was outrageously expensive, one had a strange smell that reminded you of rotten eggs, and another was so dark and gloomy that it felt more like a basement than a home.
Dohyun had even suggested that you move into the apartment next door to his, but the idea of having to deal with his annoying ass 24 hours a day was enough to make you reject the offer without a second thought.
As a result, you find yourself sprawled across Layla’s bed once again, staring dramatically at the ceiling while letting out an exaggerated groan every few seconds.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to find a place at this rate” you complain.
Layla gives her blonde hair one final brush before setting it aside and climbing onto the bed beside you, fully prepared for the last-minute sleepover she insisted on organizing.
“You will, my dear friend.” she assures you with a smile. “These things take time.”
You watch as she reaches for the remote control, shifting comfortably against the headboard before finally grabbing the bowl of popcorn she left on her nightstand nearly ten minutes earlier.
“I know” you sigh. “I’m just tired of looking. I really want a place of my own.”
The look on her face immediately softens. She understands exactly what you mean. Moving out for the first time is exciting, but finding the right place is far more stressful than most people expect.
“You know my door is always open for you” she says casually, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Honestly, I could use a roommate.”
For a moment, you simply stare at her. The possibility has never crossed your mind before. Of course, Layla is your best friend- basically family at this point- but somehow the idea of actually living together never seemed like a realistic option. Now that she mentions it, though, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense.
“Wait” you say, suddenly sitting upright. “Are you serious?”
Your excitement is immediate. You scramble across the mattress until you’re beside her, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Of course I’m serious, babygirl” she laughs. “You’re basically the sister I never had. Helping you out is the least I can do. Besides, just imagine how much fun we’d have living together.”
Maybe finding the perfect apartment is taking longer than expected, but at least now you know you have another option. You thank her as you go back in your spot.
“Has Yoongi reached out yet?”
Layla barely glances in your direction, her attention fixed on the television as she scrolls endlessly through Netflix, rejecting every single option that appears on the screen.
At some point during the evening, you had finally told her everything that has happened over the past few days.
Naturally, she spends the first five minutes being offended that you didn’t immediately run to her and unload all your problems onto her shoulders. Once she gets over it though, she understands why you’ve kept everything to yourself.
“Yeah” you answer, reaching for another handful of popcorn. “He keeps texting me.”
That finally catches her attention.
She pauses her search and rests the remote against her thighs, turning her head to look at you properly for the first time in several minutes.
“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know…” A teasing smile pulls at her lips. “Answer him?”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. Without saying a word, you unlock your phone and hand it to her.
“I know” you mumble. “But my ego is currently stronger than my sense of compassion.”
Layla snorts. As she scrolls through the conversation, her eyebrows gradually climb higher and higher. There are messages everywhere. Requests to meet, to talk. Apologies. More apologies. A few desperate attempts at making you laugh. By the time she reaches the most recent text, she’s counted well over twenty unanswered messages.
“Your ego really is something else.” she says with a laugh, handing the phone back to you.
“Thank you.”
Layla shakes her head, unable to stop smiling.
“Seriously, though. At least hear him out.”
Your fingers tighten slightly around your phone. You know she’s right. Ignoring him forever isn’t exactly a sustainable plan, no matter how satisfying it feels in the moment. The truth is that every unread message makes your stomach twist a little more than the last. Every notification has you staring at the screen longer than you’d like to admit. You miss Yoongi. Because despite everything, a part of you wants to know what he has to say.
“I will” you say quietly after a moment.
Layla studies your expression for a second but wisely chooses not to push any further. You lean back against the headboard, pretending to focus on whatever movie she finally settles on, while doing your best to ignore the knot forming in your stomach at the thought of eventually having to face him.
.✦ ݁˖
About a week later, you finally start moving your things into Layla’s apartment.
The process turns out to be far more exhausting than you expected, mostly because you apparently own an unreasonable number of books, clothes, and random objects you convinced yourself were important enough to keep. Thankfully, Dohyun takes care of most of the heavy lifting, carrying box after box down the stairs while complaining the entire time. On the rare occasions when he can’t find a free afternoon, Jungkook unexpectedly steps in and helps without making a big deal out of it, showing up in comfortable clothes and carrying furniture as if it weighs nothing.
By the end of the week, your childhood bedroom looks almost unrecognizable. The shelves that once held years of memories sit half empty, the walls feel strangely bare, and the room that has belonged to you for most of your life suddenly feels like a place you’re visiting rather than a place you live in.
The last box is being loaded into Dohyun’s car when your mother starts crying for what feels like the fifth time that morning.
“Mom, stop being so dramatic.” you say with a laugh, although the sight of her wiping away tears makes your chest tighten a little. “I’m literally ten minutes away.”
Your father pats her back gently, trying to comfort her while failing to hide the emotional look in his own eyes.
“I know honey.” your mother says, shaking her head as she dabs at her cheeks. “It’s just going to be so strange not having you around all the time. We’re going to miss you so much.”
The warmth that spreads through your chest catches you off guard. You’ve spent months dreaming about moving out, about having your own space and your own routine, but seeing your parents struggle to let you go makes the moment feel far more significant than you expected.
Without thinking twice, you drop the suitcase in your hand and wrap your arms around both of them.
“I love you guys so much.” you mumble against your mother’s shoulder. “And seriously, stop worrying. It’s not like I’m disappearing.”
Your father presses a kiss to the top of your head while your mother squeezes you tightly enough to make you laugh. After a few more emotional goodbyes and several reminders to call them every day, you finally climb into the passenger seat of Dohyun’s car.
“Damn..” he says as he fastens his seatbelt and starts the engine. “They definitely weren’t this sad when I moved out.”
You grin immediately, already knowing exactly how to answer.
“That’s because I’m their favorite child.”
Dohyun lets out an exaggerated groan and shakes his head. “You’ve been living away from home for approximately thirty seconds and you’re already unbearable.”
“Jealousy is not a good look on you, brother.” you reply, earning yourself a glare that only makes you laugh harder.
By the time you arrive at Layla’s apartment, your excitement has completely taken over. The two of you immediately start carrying boxes inside, and with every trip up the stairs the apartment feels a little more like home.
“Girl, I’m literally so excited.” Layla says as she throws herself dramatically onto your newly made bed. “I have my baby all to myself now.”
You raise both hands in celebration, and she does the same, the two of you cheering as if you’ve just won an award. From the doorway, Dohyun watches the scene unfold with the exhausted expression of a man questioning every decision that led him here.
“You’re both ridiculous.” he mutters.
“You love us.” Layla replies without missing a beat.
“I tolerate you.”
“Same thing.” you and Layla answer in unison, which only makes him groan louder.
It takes a few days to unpack everything and settle in properly, but the adjustment happens faster than you expected. Since you and Layla work at the same cafè, your schedules naturally line up, making it easy to fall into a routine together. Mornings are spent fighting over the bathroom and rushing to make breakfast before work, while evenings usually end with both of you collapsed on the couch, complaining about customers and sharing takeout.
For the first time in months, you feel settled.
Of course, because Layla is physically incapable of doing anything in a subtle way, she decides that your newfound independence deserves a proper celebration. Not a small gathering, but a full blown housewarming party filled with decorations, snacks, and far more people than your apartment should realistically be able to hold.
By Saturday night, every room is filled with conversation. Music plays softly in the background while people move between the kitchen and living room carrying drinks, stealing food, and talking over one another. You’re standing near the kitchen counter with a beer in your hand when Jimin appears beside you and nudges your shoulder hard enough to nearly make you spill it.
“Looks like you finally found somewhere to stay, huh?” he says with a satisfied smile.
You shoot him a side eye before nudging him back. “Yeah, Layla was kind enough to let me move in. And despite your questionable apartment recommendations, you were still very kind, so thank you for trying.”
Jimin places a hand dramatically over his chest. “Questionable? My recommendations were top tier.”
“One of them had rats in it.”
“Exactly. Top tier.”
You laugh and shake your head, and he pulls you into a quick hug before stepping back with an expression that is surprisingly sincere.
“I’m glad you found a place you like.” he says quietly.
Before you can answer, Jungkook approaches the two of you with a drink in his hand and a grin that immediately makes you suspicious.
“Sweetheart, I’m so proud of you!” he says. “No more curfews, huh?”
You roll your eyes so hard they nearly hurt and stick your tongue out at him, which only makes him laugh.
He has clearly come straight from work. His dark hair is messy, his black t-shirt clings to his chest and the tattoos running down his skin are fully visible beneath the rolled up sleeves. The tiredness in his eyes should make him look exhausted, but somehow it has the opposite effect.
You hate the fact that you find it attractive.
To avoid thinking about that too much, you raise your glass and take another sip. Judging by the pleasant warmth spreading through your body, you’ve probably had more alcohol than you originally intended.
“Everyone gather around!” Layla suddenly shouts from the living room.
You turn to find her standing on top of a chair like she’s about to make a political announcement. Laughter immediately erupts throughout the apartment as people begin moving toward her.
“Who’s up for a round of Never Have I Ever?” she asks dramatically.
A collective groan rises from the crowd. You swear you see Namjoon physically facepalm, and for a brief, beautiful moment you think the idea might die before it starts.
“Honey, we are way too old for that.” Hoseok says, raising an eyebrow at Layla while taking a sip of his drink. Relief floods through you. Perfect. The game is canceled. Everyone moves on. You survive.
“I’m in.” Sophie says immediately.
“Me too.” Taehyung adds at the exact same time, earning an excited high five from her.
Your relief disappears instantly.
One by one, everyone else starts agreeing, including Namjoon that has accepted his fate with surprisingly no complaints. Soon, a large circle forms in the middle of the living room, while you remain standing near the couch, suddenly unable to move.
“What are you doing over there?” Layla asks, patting the floor beside her. “Come sit next to me.”
You reluctantly join the circle, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your palms are already slightly sweaty, your face feels warm from the alcohol. Games like this have never been your thing. You hate talking about yourself, especially in front of this many people.
Taehyung eagerly volunteers to start. He taps his chin dramatically while pretending to think, clearly enjoying the fact that everyone is watching him.
“Never have I ever peed my pants within the last few years.” he finally announces.
Laughter immediately fills the room. The question catches you so off guard that you almost let your drink fall from your hand. As people react with various levels of disgust and amusement, your eyes drift around the circle until you notice both Jimin and Dohyun quietly taking a sip.
You stare at your brother in disbelief.
“Wait..” you say, laughing despite yourself. “Are you seriously telling me you peed your pants?”
Dohyun immediately looks offended. “I was extremely drunk and disoriented.” he says defensively, twirling his beer in his hand as though that explanation somehow helps.
“Whatever you say bro.” you reply, earning yourself a middle finger and another wave of laughter from everyone else. Jimin, meanwhile, doesn’t even bother defending himself, which somehow makes the entire situation funnier. When the laughter finally dies down, Jungkook takes his turn.
“Never have I ever liked someone older than me.”
Your eyes widen before you quickly look down at your drink. Fortunately, you’re not the only person drinking. Trying to appear casual, you take a slow sip and keep your expression as neutral as possible. Your eyes drift toward Jungkook at the exact wrong moment.
He’s already looking at you.
The eye contact lasts barely a second, but it’s enough to make your breath catch. You almost choke on your drink as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks, and you immediately lower your gaze before anyone can notice. Thankfully, nobody seems interested in investigating further. Sophie, however, looks far too excited as she prepares her own question.
“Never have I ever thought about stealing someone else’s partner.”
Your heart immediately starts pounding, of course she’d ask that. Layla takes a sip first, triggering a chorus of shocked gasps, dramatic “no ways” and ironic accusations from everyone around the circle. While the attention remains focused on her, you quietly raise your own bottle and take a sip, hoping the movement goes unnoticed.
It doesn’t.
Sophie’s eyes land on you almost instantly, and her mouth falls open in disbelief. “No way. Who was it? Do we know him? Tell us!” Beside her, Jungkook smirks into his drink, looking far too entertained by the situation. The apartment suddenly feels much smaller than it did a few minutes ago. Your grip tightens around the bottle as panic begins creeping into your chest, and you become painfully aware of how many eyes are now fixed directly on you.
Desperate for an escape, your gaze immediately finds Taehyung across the circle. Thankfully, he understands.
“Come on guys.” he says with a laugh, cutting through the growing chorus of questions. “Leave her alone. She clearly doesn’t want to tell you.”
Relief washes over you so quickly that you nearly sag in place as the attention finally shifts away from you and the game moves on to the next person.
.✦ ݁˖
The evening gradually comes to an end about two hours later, and although the apartment is still filled with the lingering warmth of laughter and conversation, people have started gathering their belongings and finishing the last few drops of alcohol left in their cups. What had felt loud and chaotic only a short while ago slowly settles into something quieter, the energy of the party fading naturally as the night grows later.
To your surprise, the guys stay behind to help clean.
Not that you’re complaining.
After hosting that many people, the apartment looks exactly the way you expected it to look: abandoned cups scattered across every available surface, half empty snack bowls sitting forgotten on tables, and enough empty bottles to make you question some of your friends’ life choices.
You’re moving around the living room collecting cups when the smell of stale alcohol immediately reaches your nose. It isn’t unpleasant exactly, but it’s enough to remind you once again that you’ve probably had more to drink than originally intended. Not enough to be drunk, thankfully, but enough that your thoughts feel softer around the edges and your emotions a little more difficult to ignore.
You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you don’t immediately notice Jungkook approaching. Only when his voice reaches you do you finally look up.
“Is it the guy you like?”
The question is so unexpected that your entire body stills. For a second, you genuinely wonder whether you’ve heard him correctly. Slowly, you lift your head and find him standing beside the coffee table, casually reaching for the bowl of popcorn that you and Layla left out for the guests. His movements are completely relaxed, as though he hasn’t just asked a question capable of sending your heart into immediate cardiac arrest.
“What?”
The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it. Jungkook glances toward you briefly before returning his attention to the bowl in his hands.
“The person you drank for.” he clarifies, his tone frustratingly casual. “During the game.”
Your stomach immediately drops. Jungkook has always been observant, often picking up on details everyone else misses entirely. Looking back, you honestly don’t know why you had hoped your reaction to go unnoticed. The second you drank, your entire body had practically short circuited. Trying desperately to appear unaffected, you force out a laugh.
“Obviously, dumbass.”
Sarcasm immediately becomes your shield of choice. Whenever you’re nervous, embarrassed, flustered or emotionally compromised in any way, sarcasm is usually the first thing you reach for. Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn’t appear remotely convinced. Instead, he continues watching you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, and the realization alone is enough to make your pulse speed up.
“Have you ever tried to make a move?”
This time you don’t even attempt to hide your shock. Your head snaps toward him so quickly that it almost hurts.
“What kind of question is that?”
The offended disbelief in your voice only seems to amuse him. A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, but it disappears before you can fully decide whether you imagined it.
“What?” he asks as you stare at him.
“Why would you even ask me that?”
He shrugs. The simple gesture somehow irritates you more than it should.
“I don’t know. I’m curious.”
“Well, don’t be.”
The answer comes out immediately. Because unlike many things in your life, this one requires absolutely no thought.
“I would never try something with somebody who’s already involved with someone else.”
The memory of Sophie’s answer from earlier immediately flashes through your mind, making you cringe all over again.
“I actually respect people.”
The jab is obvious. Painfully obvious. Jungkook notices it immediately, judging by the way amusement briefly vanishes from his face, but thankfully he chooses not to comment on it.
For a moment, neither of you says anything.
The apartment feels strangely quiet despite the fact that several people are still talking nearby. You can hear Hoseok and Jimin arguing about something in the kitchen, while Layla is unsuccessfully attempting to convince Namjoon that throwing things directly into a trash bag counts as cleaning. Normally those sounds would be enough to keep your attention occupied.
Right now, however, all you’re aware of is Jungkook standing in front of you. Then he nods.
“Good.”
Your eyebrows immediately pull together.
“Good?”
The answer makes absolutely no sense. Why good? Why would he care? Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, and something about the look in his eyes makes your stomach tighten.
“Yeah.” he says quietly. You wait for him to elaborate, part of you desperately hopes he won’t. A much larger part desperately hopes he will. When the silence stretches for another second, disappointment begins settling inside your chest before you can stop it.
Then he finally speaks.
“Because it would be easy to fall for you.”
For a brief moment, your brain completely stops functioning. Every coherent thought vanishes. You stare at him without blinking, convinced that your ears have somehow failed you. Because surely there is no possible universe in which Jungkook has just looked directly at you and said something like that. Yet the expression on his face remains perfectly calm, as though he hasn’t just destroyed your ability to think. As though he hasn’t just handed your hopeless feelings exactly the kind of fuel they absolutely do not need.
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not a single word. Because what exactly are you supposed to say to that? The sentence immediately begins replaying itself inside your head.
Because it would be easy to fall for you.
The words settle somewhere deep inside your chest before echoing through every thought that follows. A rush of excitement spreads through you so quickly that it almost feels embarrassing. Your heart reacts before your brain has the opportunity to intervene, immediately latching onto the possibility that maybe- just maybe- that sentence means exactly what you want it to mean. Unfortunately, the rational side of your personality quickly reminds you that hope has never been particularly kind to you.
Jungkook is affectionate,naturally charming.
He compliments people all the time, has always been the type of person who says things without fully realizing the effect they have on others. There are countless innocent explanations for what he has just said. Countless. So many, in fact, that allowing yourself to believe the most dangerous one would be completely ridiculous. And yet no matter how hard you try, none of those explanations manage to quiet the excitement spreading through your chest.
Regardless of what he meant, regardless of whether the comment was innocent or not, Jungkook still looked at you and admitted that falling for you would be easy. The thought alone is enough to make your stomach flip. Completely unaware of the emotional crisis currently unfolding inside your head, Jungkook simply picks up the bowl of popcorn and turns toward the kitchen.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
The nickname somehow makes everything worse. You watch him walk away, still incapable of forming a coherent response. Only once he disappears into the kitchen do you finally release the breath you’ve apparently been holding. You remain standing exactly where he left you, the forgotten plastic cup still trapped between your fingers while your eyes stay fixed on the doorway he disappeared through. It takes a considerable amount of effort to force yourself back into reality, because every coherent thought seems to have abandoned you the moment those words left his mouth.
“We’ve got it from here, guys. Thank you for helping.” Layla’s voice finally pulls you back to reality. You blink several times before turning toward her. She tosses the last empty bottle into a trash bag and brushes her hands together triumphantly. The apartment already looks significantly better than it did twenty minutes ago.
One by one, everyone begins saying their goodbyes. You hug Sophie, promise Hoseok you’ll answer his messages tomorrow, listen to Namjoon remind everyone to get home safely, wave goodbye to Jimin and Taehyung, exchange one final insult with Dohyun. Throughout all of it, however, your mind remains hopelessly occupied.
Because it would be easy to fall for you.
The sentence follows you everywhere. It lingers at the back of your mind while you walk everyone to the door. While you lock the apartment. While you throw away the remaining trash. While you breathe.
The apartment finally falls silent. You close the door behind them and rest your back against it for a moment, allowing yourself to release a long breath. The sudden absence of noise feels almost surreal after spending hours surrounded by people, and the quiet gives your thoughts far more room to wander than they probably should have. Layla immediately notices your exhausted expression.
Without saying a word, she opens her arms and you happily step into the hug.
“Thank you for tonight.” you says, squeezing her tightly. A smile immediately appears on her face.
“And thank you for letting me live here.”
“Best decision I’ve ever made.”
You laugh softly before wishing her goodnight and heading toward your room.
After changing into your pajamas and washing your face, you finally collapse onto your bed, fully expecting exhaustion to knock you unconscious within minutes. Unfortunately, sleep never comes.
The second the lights go out and you’re left alone with your thoughts, Jungkook immediately returns. You roll onto one side, then the other, then onto your back. The blankets suddenly feel too warm against your skin, forcing you to push them down toward your waist.
This is ridiculous. Yet no matter how many times you tell yourself that, the thought refuses to leave.
Because the truth is that Jungkook has absolutely no idea. He has no idea how often he occupies your thoughts. No idea that you instinctively look for him whenever you enter a room. No idea that hearing his voice somehow improves your mood. No idea that you’ve spent weeks trying and failing to convince yourself that whatever exists between the two of you is completely harmless.
Most importantly, he has no idea that falling for him wasn’t easy. It was effortless.
Somewhere between teasing conversations, lingering glances, casual touches, late night messages and the simple comfort of being around him, your feelings kept evolving into something much more dangerous. The realization remains with you as exhaustion slowly begins pulling you toward sleep. Your breathing gradually slows as your eyelids grow heavier.
.✦ ݁˖
You suddenly hear a knock on your door that slices through the heavy silence of the night, and for a moment your mind refuses to accept reality as you turn toward the clock on your bedside table only to see that it’s 4 a.m.
You rub your eyes in irritation, already angry at whoever has dared to pull you out of such a deep and comforting sleep. You slip on your slippers, still half lost in dreams as another short knock follows- more insistent this time- and you grumble under your breath, struggling to keep your eyelids open while your body moves on instinct more than intention.
Your gaze drifts briefly toward the window where heavy rain is falling relentlessly from the sky, and you find yourself thinking how strangely unpredictable the weather has been with June just around the corner. You shake your head and force your attention back to the present, rushing toward the front door with a strong sense of annoyance and curiosity tangled together.
When you open it, the sight in front of you makes your thoughts stop entirely because Jungkook is standing there completely drenched, his hair dark and heavy with rain, clinging messily to his forehead. His clothes from earlier now soaked through and sticking to his body in a way that reveals the tension in his muscles, and for a second you are so stunned that you forget to react at all. Only then do you snap out of it, your voice breaking through the moment.
“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask, immediately stepping aside to let him in while confusion begins replacing your initial surprise. “It’s four in the morning.”
He slowly runs a hand through his wet hair, his tongue briefly brushing over his lower lip in a gesture that feels almost too deliberate, too charged for the situation, making your thoughts falter in a way you do not fully want to admit.
“I need to talk to you.” there is something in his voice that does not allow refusal, something heavy and urgent that makes your questions wait.
You close the door behind him and switch on the lights, illuminating the room in a warm glow that somehow makes the situation feel even stranger. The rain continues tapping against the windows while droplets of water slide down his neck and disappear beneath his shirt, and despite trying your best to focus on whatever problem brought him here, your eyes keep betraying you.
“Couldn’t this have waited until morning?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempt to understand why he’s standing in your apartment looking like this in the middle of the night. “What’s so urgent that-”
“Is it me?” he interrupts you.
You stop immediately, his words hanging in the air with a weight you don’t know how to hold. You look at him without understanding what exactly he is asking.
“What?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately, and somehow the silence that follows feels more unsettling than any explanation he could have given you. His gaze remains fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse gradually accelerate, and the longer he looks at you without speaking, the more uncomfortable you become.
Jungkook starts walking toward you, slowly.
You step back instinctively, your body reacting before your mind can decide otherwise.
Something in his gaze feels too direct, too exposed, as if he is peeling away every layer you have carefully tried to keep intact. “Jungkook… what are you-“ you try to say, but he keeps closing the distance, and you keep retreating until your back meets the wall, cold and firm behind you, trapping you in place as he finally stops just inches away.
“Am I the taken guy you love so much?” he asks, and the question lands like a blow you did not see coming, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, your eyes unable to hold his darkened gaze for long as you look away, finding sudden interest in the floor. You know your silence is enough of an answer. You try to speak, to deny it, to soften it, but it comes out fractured. “Jungkook, I- No…” you manage, though it sounds more like a confession than a denial. He lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes again. The touch is gentle but decisive, and you notice how a single drop of water falls from his hair to his lips, the movement satisfyingly intimate, distracting in a way you resent yourself for noticing.
“Y/n” he says again, quieter now, and you feel the weight of your name in his voice as if it has always belonged there. “Tell me the truth. Is it me?”
Your eyes sting almost immediately, overwhelmed by everything you have been holding back, and suddenly you feel painfully small under the intensity of his gaze- there is nowhere in you left to hide. “I’m sorry.” you whisper, the words breaking as they leave your mouth. “I’m so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want to lose you.” The admission feels like surrender, and for a moment everything goes still, the air between you thick with what can’t be undone. Then he exhales, steps back, and runs both hands through his hair as he starts pacing the room, completely ignoring the fact that he is leaving water everywhere, as if none of it matters compared to what is happening inside his head.
“Shit.” he mutters as you stay pressed against the wall, not daring to move. Your chest is rising and falling too quickly, panic tightening in your throat as you watch him fall apart. You try to calm him, your voice shaky as you say his name “Jungkook please, it’s okay.”
But he does not listen, he keeps moving, keeps cursing, and the sight of him like this makes guilt settle heavily in your stomach because you know exactly why he is reacting this way. “Jungkook I’m begging you, just forget about it.” you say, though even as the words leave your mouth you know they are impossible.
He stops abruptly, turning back toward you with a stare that makes you feel exposed all over again.
“What have you done?” he asks, and the question is not loud, but it cuts deeper than anything else. A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, your voice comes out fragile. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.” He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours, and when you continue, your words tremble under the weight of everything you have been carrying for far too long. “I know it’s wrong. I tried so hard to stop it. I hate how I feel and how overwhelming it is. You don’t have to see me anymore, I’m sorry, I will-”
You do not get to finish the sentence because his lips are suddenly on yours, cold from the rain but burning in intention, and the shock of it stills you completely as your mind struggles to catch up with what is happening. He moves slowly at first, almost hesitant, as if he is afraid you will pull away. But when you do not, something shifts between you.
The kiss deepens, turning heavier, everything that has been unspoken is now forcing its way into existence. His hand finds your face, holding you as he kisses you with a growing intensity that makes your breath break against his mouth.
When you finally kiss back, something inside you gives in completely, your arms moving around his neck to pull him closer refusing to let distance separate the two of you, his hot tongue brushing against yours.
He pulls back just slightly, his eyes darker now, searching yours. “Fuck sweetheart, tell me to stop.” he breathes out, the words hang heavily between you.
You do not answer immediately, your breathing still uneven. He leans in closer, his lips brushing from your neck toward your ear, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin as his voice lowers again, softer but more dangerous in its intimacy. “Y/n. Tell me to stop.” he repeats, and you grip the back of his hair almost instinctively, drawing a low sound from him that makes your own control slip further. He doesn’t pull away yet, the trail of kisses he’s now leaving along your neck making it difficult to focus on anything but him.
“Please kook” you whisper back, not as a refusal but as something far more uncertain, and that is enough. He pauses for a brief moment, as if weighing everything silently, before slipping his hands behind your thighs and lifting you with a firm “Up” to which you comply without hesitation, your lips finding his again almost immediately. There’s more hunger in the kiss this time, consuming in a way that makes your head spin, as if the entire room has narrowed down to the space between you.
He moves toward the couch, sitting down with you on his lap as the world outside continues to rain without end. You slowly grind against him, desperation settling in like it has always belonged there. Your body has been waiting for this exact moment long before your mind ever agreed to it. His hands are everywhere on you, and it makes everything inside you tighten until you can barely breathe through it.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
The nickname doesn’t just affect you, it pulls something loose inside your head, like a thread snapping, your thoughts scattering in different directions until nothing makes sense except him, except the way he’s looking at you.
“I want you. I want you so bad, please.”
A slow smirk curves his lips as he cups your face with his tattooed hand, holding you in place like he doesn’t trust you to stay still on your own, apparently you’re already halfway gone.
“Yeah?”
You nod, but it doesn’t feel like a choice, more like something your body does before you can stop it, your hips move harder against him as you lose any concept of restraint, any sense of where the line even is anymore. The feeling of him underneath you is too much and not enough at the same time, a contradiction that makes your head spin and your insides clench.
“Show me.”
You pause, breath unsteady, face flushed, lips parted as your body is trying to catch up with a mind that’s obviously no longer fully there.
“Show me how bad you want me.”
There’s something in the way he says it that feels less like a request and more like permission you didn’t know you were waiting for.
You move without thinking, hands finding the button of his pants clumsily. Your coordination has started slipping away from you, your body is acting on instinct alone while your thoughts blur at the edges. He throws his head back, mouth slightly open, as you finally feel him. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, one hand resting on your thigh.
“Sweetheart, I think you need to wake up.” The words cut through everything, but they don’t break the moment. You look at him, confused. The smirk is still there, almost making you think he hasn’t said anything at all and that you’re just imagining things.
“What?”
He gently pulls your hands away, and you let him.
Slowly, deliberately, he starts undoing the buttons of your shirt instead, never breaking eye contact, his cold fingers brushing against your chest with a precision that feels almost familiar, like this has happened before or will happen again no matter what you do.
“WAKE THE FUCK UP, Y/N.”
The world snaps.
You jolt up, breath tearing through your chest, your forehead almost crashing into Layla’s as she hovers above you.
“What the hell were you dreaming about?”
For a moment you don’t answer.
Your body is still caught somewhere else, your skin still carrying something that shouldn’t be there. The memory of touch has refused to disappear completely, even though nothing is left.
Reality comes back in pieces. The room. Layla’s voice. Your racing heartbeat. The strange emptiness lingering behind your ribs.
“Oh my God.”
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author’s note:
Uhm so.. hi? Yeah, that happened.
You guys don’t understand how much of a sucker I am for tension… I hope I managed to make you feel it too, lol.
As always, let me know what you think of this new chapter, and thank you so much for reading!
izzy806
discoholicmusic
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
areudirty
