summary: after your death, the man who believes himself to be your husband is relentless in his pursuit.
genre: smut/romance
band member: yoongi from bts
based off this song from the corpse bride
death!au, corpse bride!au, reader!victor, yoongi!emily,
warnings: deals with the concept of death, the afterlife, and the creators. this is just my interpretation of the movie and is not meant to offend any religion who believes in something other than this for the afterlife. if it somehow does, please send me a message so that i can improve this story without offending any culture or religion!
OCTOBER FICS 1/?
Your annoyance seemed to fade with each step forwards into the forest.
The serene silence lulled your indignance. A soft breeze brushed your hair behind your ears and you found yourself, for the first time in days, smiling without force. That heaviness of your chest seemed to lift, blowing like billows of smoke up into the white sky. Beneath your boots, snow crunched into footprints, deep and with purpose.
For once, you could breathe- away from parents, away from families, away from that devilish marriage you were meant to entertain a thought with. Your eyes were tired yet wide, barely registering the sights before you. You hadn’t slept in days, maybe. Hadn’t eaten in days, either. How could you eat when your future was being pried from your cold fingers? The idea of marrying someone whom you’d never met, of devoting your life and womanhood to a man who was an impeccable nuisance. He expected a wife, kids- for you to stay home to be both. Your heart yearned for more. Real love was amongst your desires of life.
Paused, you found yourself stood before a clearing. Tree branches stuck out from the ground, of different shapes and sizes, while the tiny round tops of stone peeked out from the snow. You’d never gotten this far before. You wondered how long you’d been walking for.
Pursing your lips, you continued forwards, collapsing tiredly onto a clear-cut stump.
Thoughts of your overly-exhausting day came flooding back. You caught yourself thinking of the manner of Victor, the kind but annoyance of a fiancé. He discussed his ideas of children with such an eager manner, your stomach felt ill. He expected three, one right after your wedding night. He expected you to give all, especially the dowry. Yes, he seemed quite eager about a dowry.
Money is what drove these insanely mundane people. Your parents, wanting to climb the social ladder by marrying you off to the red-haired supposedly wealthiest family in your town. Well, if they were so wealthy, why did his parents seem so excited about the prospect of the dowry?
“Mmm,” you mimicked their snotty voices, “’shall we discuss the… hmm.. prospects of marriage?’“ Pushing yourself to your feet, you rested your hands on your hips, ignoring the bite of cold on your noise. “‘Yes, my dear’,” you continued, spinning around to the short stump, which quite perfectly imitated Victor, your fiancé’s father. You gave it a kick.
“With this hand,” your initiation of Victor’s nasally voice was, in your opinion, fitting, “I will lift your sorrows.”
Twisting your shoulders, you reached out to shake a bony branch. “Your cup shall never empty, for I will be your wine.”
The vows were incredibly cliche. You had hoped you would be able to write your own, someday- vows that didn’t sound as if you were sentencing your future to some somber death. Lowering yourself to your knees, you bent at the hips before a branch, outstretched through the snow. Your gaze flickered to the engagement ring, sparkling and small on your finger.
“With this candle,” you twisted the ring, a size too tiny, from your hand, “I will light your way in darkness.”
A cold gust of wind brushed your hair behind your face, caressing your cheek softer than a lover could. The hush whisper of the forest life quietened, as if all the creatures were now stopped, listening to you profess your undying devotion for a branch.
You slipped the ring onto the wood. It fell until it hit the snow, resting there comfortably.
“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”
Somehow this escapade had made you feel… better. Marriage to a branch would be better than to Victor, and perhaps your vows, sad as they were, could one day be said positively to someone who you felt true love for. Sighing, you sat back in the snow, falling backwards into the clouds of white. Your body felt chilly but your heart was at ease, beating softly within the ribbed confines of your chest. The sky looked so beautiful then. You wished you could stare at it forever.
You weren’t sure how long you laid there, poised in ice and breathing slow. Your eyelids felt heavy and your limbs tired, weighing pounds, sinking into the snow. A long sigh escaped your lips, and after a moment of hesitation, your eyes fluttered shut, finally at peace.
Mmmmm.
It felt so nice. You hadn’t had a nap that peaceful since weeks ago.
Smiling softly, you moved your arms from their spot, stretching your sore legs.
Almost at once, you realized something was different. Your body was no longer cold. You couldn’t feel the breeze of night, or the tiny noises of woodland creatures. Your eyes flew open and you shot upwards. What you beheld was not snow, or trees, or the darkness of night.
You were in a room. A nice one, at that. It had been decorated simply, a vase of dark blue roses by your bed. And your bed- you jumped to examine it quickly, only to find that it was shaped as a coffin, though with more luxurious cushioning. A silk blanket had been draped over your frame; it slipped to the ground in a puddle when you stood.
Your chest felt tight. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, and with a shock you found that you weren’t. Your chest wasn’t expanding, your lungs weren’t working. With eyes wide as saucers, you clasped at your throat, and spun to find the exit.
The door to enter was shut. You rushed to open it, though you hesitated. You had no clue as to where you were, or what drugs you’d been given, or who had abducted you.
Swallowing, you found your courage to twist the handle. The door swung back with one long, eerie creak. Its openness revealed a hallway, long and dark and dimly lit by torches hung on the wall. You tip-toed forwards, sure to be quiet, until you came to the end of it. The hall ended at another set of doors, and through the windows of the lobby you stood in, you could see that there were people around.
It looked like your village. Yet, it was dark. You couldn’t see the sky, or clouds, or any type of sun. A grim shadow fell over the town. Vinery climbed up the walls of tall, skinny buildings. Neon green lights flashed in the windows of what looked like bars, and a fountain stood in the midst of it all.
Confusion began to level your fright. Gulping down your fear, you continued forwards, sure that perhaps this was just some very twisted nightmare and that you’d wake in the snow, ready to go home. Suddenly the idea of marrying Victor became better than this.
There was no cold or hot, no breeze of any sort as you stepped out into the town. You could only compare this to limbo, the empty space between heaven and hell.
In the name of the lords, were you….
dead?
The nearest person who walked past, you grabbed. “Sir?”
The man spun around by your force, starkingly revealing a face of green and rotting, and a maggot crawling out from the empty black space where his left eye should have been. Brown, sharp teeth revealed themselves as he looked upon you with kind curiosity, “Yes?”
You let go of him instantly, trying your best not to gasp at the ungodly sight before you. Your words died on your tongue as the man squinted with his one good black eye, and something like understanding dawned upon his face.
“You’re the new wife,” he finally said.
You blinked, licking your chapped lips, “The what?”
The man began to speak, but his raspy voice was cut off by some low, smooth one.
“Wife,” it said, moving from the shadows of an alley between Emily’s Pie Shop and Snake Lounge. “You’re my wife.”
“Excuse me?”
The figure appeared before you, unsheathed by the darkness that had clothed him. You first noticed that he was a bit taller than you, and skinny, dressed nicely in a slightly-torn black suit, as if he were getting ready to go to a wedding. His skin was deathly pale and smooth, unlike the person before you, and he had hair of silky black locks that fell loosely around his head. Moon-shaped, dark eyes sparkled in the street fires, and light pink lips curved into the tiniest of smirks.
“Your wife?” You repeated incredulously. “I’m- who- what’s-”
“Perhaps you should take a moment to sit, my love,” the stranger moved towards you with a hand outstretched, ready to guide you to a chair. You jumped back from him in defense. “Really, beautiful, it is best if you’re sitting when I tell you. You must be very scared.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” you snapped, eyes narrowed at the handsome man. “Tell me where I am and who you are.”
“Firstly,” he took a hesitant step towards you, apparently not wanting to frighten you further. You squared your jaw. “You are where every… dead person goes. We call it Fors, which means Luck.”
Your eyes grew wide once again. If you could have felt your heart beating, you were sure it would have stopped.
“’Where every… dead person goes’?” Your mouth felt unbearably dry. Did you need water? Could you drink water?
And while you wished it wasn’t true, it felt as if the knowledge he was telling you was already known; it was as if you were refreshing your mind on a topic you learned when you were young. Dead. Suddenly, the word wasn’t frightening. You weren’t sure why a wash of relief fell onto your skin, or why what he said made sense- it hadn’t before.
“My love,” he took a step towards you, and you glanced up at him, “I found you in the snow after your vows. You seemed so lovely, so at peace. Your heart, unfortunately, dear, had ultimately been slowed until your breaths were no more.”
You had been so tired. You hadn’t eaten in days, hadn’t slept in days. Perhaps you were foolish to think that winter wouldn’t claim you, knowing your health wasn’t in perfect shape. Your mind wasn’t either. And perhaps this was for the better. Victor was gone, no longer a nuisance. Yet, your heart felt heavy with the knowledge that your excitement for education, for adventure, for travel- it had all been snuffed out by the cold grasp of November.
“And myself,” he continued, raising his left hand to sight and momentarily silencing your thoughts. In the darkness of the town, the torch lights lit up the burgundy amber settled in the golden engagement ring on his finger. “My name is Min Yoongi, and I am your husband.”
AHA yes i am doing october ficcs now!!! send in your spookiest ideas for bts and got7 halloween fics circa 2017!
summary: reincarnation was sweet with the promise of immortal love
a/n: some mature themes; also, i’m sure this has been done before (i haven’t seen one for jimin), so if there are any similarities between this and another reincarnation fic, it’s purely coincidental!
based off close to you by the carpenter’s (reneé dominque cover)
That sweet scent of cream and cheese hung in the air, a daunting reminder of the hunger that settled in your stomach. You stood before an arrangement in a floral shop, suddenly overcome with a sudden desire to consume as many doughnuts as you could fit in your mouth. Eyeing the vivid violet carnations and its statue of Buddha which sat poised in the middle, you turned around to the worker and quickly bought a single carnation; it would look pretty in a vase by your apartment’s window.
Stepping out onto the bustling street, you turned your eyes up to the lights beginning to flicker on. The sun’s absence sent fourth and sixth avenue into a Christmas-themed frenzy and you hugged your jacket close to your body, the flower hidden in your inside coat pocket. Tugging your beanie onto your head, you sniffed the air again for that delightful scent, and followed the direction from which a woman with a croissant had marched from.
The shop stood like a beacon across the road. Its lights were bright and gold, sparkling like some kind of elaborate jewel. The name “Jordan’s Delights” was sprawled across the front in glittering cursive letters. Eager, you waited for the pedestrian symbol to flash on, and hurried in its wake.
The line, surprisingly, wasn’t as long as you thought it might’ve been. Sure, it was out the door, but in New York that was to be expected. This shop had probably been featured on some Buzzfeed article, what with its doughnuts decorated in arrangements of cereal, candy, and anything else you could’ve been craving at the moment. Your stomach grumbled impatiently and you placed a hand on it, softly mumbling for it to shut up under your breath.
The line moved and moved until you’d reached the front. Excitedly, you rattled off a dozen doughnuts for one of the shop’s classy gold boxes. As you handed your money to the cashier, who you hadn’t very much paid attention to, you found yourself admiring the purple emblem on the box.
You finally looked up at whoever had been handling your quick, excited words.
Staring back at you were the brownest eyes you’d ever seen.
They were like chocolate, or coffee, or any other delicious thing colored the same. Framed in long, dark lashes, fluttering like butterflies against his skin. Soft, pink cheeks scrunched up; even pinker lips fell into a stunned daze at your presence. The man’s cocoa-colored hair looked perfectly touchable, slightly disheveled and rustled around his brows. He had what had to be the most flawless face structure in the entire world.
He must’ve thought your staring was intrusive, because he didn’t speak, but just looked flabbergasted at the sight of you.
“O-Oh,” you took your change from his palm. Your fingertips grazed his calloused ones, something like static sparking between them. You jerked your arm back quickly and shoved the money into your pocket.
Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from him. Box in hand, your booted feet practically ran for the door, hoping to dismiss the entire awkward situation (and the handsome man) for good.
Standing at the cash register, the man gulped, eyes wide in shock. He could barely hear any more, and was suddenly aware of every pound on his body. Feet sinking into the blue-and-gold tile, he gripped the counter for fear of falling over. The customer before him said something but his ears weren’t working. His brain had become overwhelmed with flashbulb memories; smiles, laughter, those eyes, love, warmth. He could see the person before him, but not the person before him; you held his hand and he held yours. He could see those eyes of yours, glistening at him from across an aisle, veiled in white. Children- there’d been children.
The person he’d spent his life searching for, trying to forget- you were here now, before him and unaware and just as beautiful as you’d been thirty years ago, all wrinkled and tired.
“I-I.” the man looked up at the customer with saucers for eyes. He meant to apologize but the words wouldn’t form- and you were leaving, walking so fast down the sidewalk, turning into an alley, leaving him. He couldn’t wait another second.
Running around from behind the counter, the apron around his hips came undone and Park Jimin ran after you. Puddles under his feet splashed up on the socks around his ankles, cold and alarming and he suddenly remembered he only had on a button up and dress pants.
“Wait!” He found his voice again. Jimin stopped when he caught your attention, your back turned to traffic and confusion written across his face. “Wh-what’s your name?”
He knew your name. No matter your face, your gender, your sex, your race- your name had never changed.
You spoke it. And Jimin had been right.
It was you.
“I’m sorry,” you blushed furiously, eyes trying to avoid the sternness in his, “...do I know you?”
Jimin’s cheeks had grown a bright pink now. The cold nipped at the tip of his nose and he tried to ignore winter’s bite. Taking a step forward, he blinked, admiring the shape of your lips, the color of your eyes. “Oh,” he breathed, voice heavy, “I... I suppose not.”
You looked at him now. He seemed familiar, but you were sure this was the first time you were seeing this face- you’d have remembered if it had appeared beforehand. And it was curious to see how this man seemed saddened by the obvious knowledge that the two of you were strangers. His lips had curled downwards, eyes heavy with histories you couldn’t have known of.
And Jimin had known that you wouldn’t know him- not if he knew you. It was the terrible past of this curse and blessing; one was born with the memories of centuries’ old love, and one was born with a mind slated blank. It was rare that the two of you were born with the knowledge of your past and maybe, just maybe, Jimin had been hoping that you knew him, too.
“Is your favorite color still blue?” He suddenly asked.
Your eyes grew wide with shock. “How.. did you know that?”
Jimin was torn. Should he tell you, and risk scaring you for however many years? Or should he wait, let you fall in love with him all over again, and experience the hurt of your forgetfulness?
“I know a lot of things,” he replied, voice laced with sadness and somberness.
“I’m sorry,” you frowned at him and turned on the heel of your shoe. He was handsome, unbearably so, but his oddness was becoming concerning and now you yourself had become concerned with getting home. He called after you but you looked away, hurrying for the streetlight. It flashed green and you took that as a sign, rushing into the road, but-
Coldness had overwhelmed you. You felt your head slam into the ground, something inside you snap, and an unbearable pain flood through your bones. Burning rubber and the sound of screeching tires filled your senses. Suddenly you were freezing, in the middle of a puddle on your side, unable to think or breathe.
That stranger dropped to his knees before you, nearly slipping out of his haste to run after you. He skidded to a stop and, with eyes more painful than yours, hurried to find the source of your bleeding.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jimin whispered, cradling your head in his lap. The rain was falling on him, soaking his hair and causing his shirt to cling to the texture off his skin. People were beginning to gather around you and he yelled for someone to call an ambulance. Apologies flooded in your direction, from whoever had been in the driver’s seat, but you were overcome with the knowledge of something else.
You’d seen those chocolate eyes before. Concerned, like this. You could feel pain between your legs and comforting words and then- a baby’s cry. You could see these eyes hurrying into a restroom after your escapade with blades, full of the same pain they were in now. And then they were different- warm and happy, glistening over at you from a nearby pillow. They were above you, filled with lust, then in a kitchen, filled with anger and venomous words.
You knew him, didn’t you?
“It’s okay, shhh..... shhh,” he brushed your damp hair from your bleeding forehead, breath shaking and stopping when his fingers became colored with crimson.
“I’m...” you tried to form the words, your tongue wet with burgundy. A cough cut you off and you wanted to apologize immediately for how your blood splattered his immaculate face, wanted to crawl up and cry from the tightness in your chest.
“Please,” Jimin whimpered from above you, pulling your numb body closer to his side. “Please don’t go.”
The sound of his voice like that tore your heart apart, more than any vehicle could. You swallowed the vomit in your throat and stared up at him. No matter how he’d returned to you, he was always breathtaking like this; always the spitting image of an angel.
The Christmas lights began to blur around him. A halo of gold lit up his frame, outlining him in vividness, in a fog and haze resembling a glowing cloud. Your shaking fingers reached up to stroke his cheeks, soft and warm in this form, like pillows under the cradling nature of your palm.
“I...” you smiled, which must’ve been a sight, what with your bloody teeth and torn lips, “I found you.”
A choked sob escaped his throat. He dropped his head and held you close, tears streaming fast and hot down his face. “No,” Jimin whispered, a broken voice of hurt and pain, “I just found you.. I-I just got you back. W-We just m-”
“I know,” you smiled softly up at him. The pain was gone, replaced with cold and a numbing sensation.
Jimin let out another sob, a loud cry out into the sky, at whatever God or Gods had cursed the two of you to an eternity of search.
That nagging want for sleep pulled at your eyes. You found them heavy, clinging to the image of your soulmate before you, analyzing every stroke of his hair, every curve of his jaw and every twitch in his lips. He was utterly beautiful with that halo of light; an angel shrouded in gold, with eyes full of more pain than any angel should have had to endure.
“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded, pushing his hand onto your forehead, “p-please. The ambulance is-”
“Park Jim-Jimin...” you reached up to cup his hand where it was, a tiny smile on your lips, and words unspoken yet spoken before. The name rolled of your bloodied tongue, caked your lips in that color of life. Those eyes that never changed, those eyes which sparkled at him in past laughter, which glittered with the promise of future love, those eyes which were filled with a warmth no fire could replace.
Those eyes had gone dark, had fallen from Jimin’s face, and your body limp in his arms.
It was then that Jimin saw your coat had torn open. In its pocket, a violet carnation, stained with shimmering crimson.
A violet carnation.
It was the first flower he’d ever plucked for you.
you guys! i just noticed that I passed the 5000 follower mark, and I am so ecstatic!
i’ve been writing since I was nine years old, and to know that there are 5000+ people out there who liked my work so much they followed me puts me over the moon!!
summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.
college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook
piece 1, piece 2, piece 3
this component is based off 6LACK’s ‘Prblms’
The night was cold enough that Jungkook eventually decided to run.
Having rushed out the front door without so much as a goodbye, his forgotten coat hardly lingered in the back of his mind. Teeth chattering and toes nearly frozen, Jungkook fell into a light jog in an effort to keep warm and to get to your dorm faster. The light poles were dim and cast a long-legged shadow of himself against the sidewalk, each stride harder than the last, each one more eager. His eyes burned with the memory of what you had said, replaying each syllable over and over again. He imagined the different ways you could’ve said it, how your face could’ve looked when you sent it. He wondered if it even mattered to you, or if getting rid of him was as easy as throwing out the trash.
Jungkook couldn’t remember you talking to anyone else. Your phone never lit up with messages from anyone other than your manager or Somi, and he never saw anyone lingering around you during classroom hours. Your focus was always him when he was by.
His stomach hurt. He felt like he’d throw up any second now, or that his throat would tighten until he couldn’t breathe anymore. His lungs burned from the cold air he inhaled, and his eyes stung with each short blink forced by the breeze. It seemed like years until he saw the light of your dorm come into view, a sight that used to be cathartic now his only stressor. Swallowing, he jogged to the front door and let himself in, suddenly enveloped in warmth and the scent of laundry.
Jungkook never once stopped running. When he got to your door, he paused, halting with one fist raised to the door. The image of you on the other side, maybe crying or maybe unbothered- both of them made his stomach ache. After the moment of tight lungs passed he finally ratted on the door with his knuckles, nervously licking his lips and pushing his hair behind his head.
Footsteps pitter-pattered on the other side of the door. He listened as they walked up to him, and glanced through the peephole to see who was there. Jungkook looked down at it and ran his fingers through his hair. “_____? Can you let me in?” There was silence, and not a move was made on either side off the door. “Please?”
Still silence.
Jungkook forced out a breath of exasperation, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. He pressed his hand against the door and flattened his palm, tapping it with his fingertips. He imagined your hand on the other side, pressing back.
“_____-ah? L-Look... I don’t know what I did, but... but I can make it up to you,” Jungkook dropped his forehead against the door and leaned inwards. Some part of him wished he could walk right through that god damn door and hug you, just to feel your bones against him. “______-ah, please-”
The door handle clicked, unlocked, and turned.
“Jeon Jungkook,” she forced a tight-lipped, bitter smile.
Jungkook stared at her, part of him disappointed to see who answered. “Where is she?”
Somi rolled her eyes and looked outside in the hall to see if anyone was looking. Jungkook watched her, a mixture of emotions and all of them having to do with you. Pursing her lips, Somi assessed him and his lightening skin as a result of the cold, the slight chatter of his teeth, and sighed. “Come on.”
She reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. With a hard yank, Jungkook came stumbling into the apartment, startled by the second influx of warmth that encased him.
“What do you want?” Somi demanded, arms folded over her chest and eyes cold as glass.
“Where did she go? Where is she?” Jungkook looked past her to see if he could catch a glimpse of you, but Somi’s death grip on his forearm kept him in place.
“She left a while ago,” Somi declared. “I don’t know where she went. She grabbed her bag and left.”
Jungkook jerked his arm out of Somi’s grasp and used it to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt hot, overheating, like at any moment he might succumb to death by fire. Wiping his brow, he glanced in the direction of your bedroom, then back to Somi. “Do you have any idea where she could’ve gone?”
“No, asshole,” Somi glared at him, “I don’t. Do you?”
Jungkook blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t you have a girlfriend, or something?” Somi rolled her eyes again, teeth ground together. “Shouldn’t you be off with some dumb blonde bitch fucking, or something? Isn’t that all you’re good for?”
Blonde... bitch? The only blonde he could think of was Minjoo, but what was Somi even talking about? He’d been dodging the subject of her for fear of hurting her feelings, but you’d been acting so weird lately. He wasn’t sure what he should do. Give up Minjoo for someone who might not feel the same? Give up you for a girl who begs to fuck him every day of the week?
“Yeah, idiot,” Somi dug through her back pocket. She searched for something while Jungkook watched, eyes wide in confusion and mouth suddenly gone dry. She turned it around and held the screen up to his face. “We know you’re dating Minjoo, so why even come here?”
The picture was of himself, staring down into his latte. He remembered that moment, trying to figure out why the flower you painted with cream was suddenly so evil, glaring up at him. The caption read “everyone look how handsome my man is”, paired with a pink heart emoji. Being called Minjoo’s man made him sick to his stomach, but the idea of you seeing this, thinking he’d been lying to you, hurt more.
“She... She posted that?” Jungkook blinked, delicately trying to reach for the phone. Somi locked it and shoved it back in her pocket.
She stared at him. “You didn’t know?”
Jungkook scoffed, pushing himself up against the wall. He raked his fingers through his damp hair, tugging on it tightly, wondering why the hell she would do that. Suddenly he was going through all his memories with her, trying to piece together when she would’ve thought the two of you were dating. He was reminded of the day at the coffee shop, your cold eyes. The time in your bed when he got texts from her. That time in the library.
You thought he was dating her.
“I fucked u-”
“Yeah,” Somi sighed, closing her eyes. “You did.”
“What can I do?” Jungkook chewed on the bottom of his lip, voice earnest and hopeful.
Somi straightened up. She figured she could give him the benefit of the doubt, if nothing else.
“Explain everything to me. I’m sure she’s fine.”
Every blow to your face was another numbing thump, a soft tap on a bruise. Your head snapped to the side, then to the other, though you’d gone cold with pain a long time ago. Leaned up against the sparring mat, you listened to the sound of a whistle signal for your partner to get off, to allow you to recoup.
It wasn’t that you were doing this because of Jungkook. Sure, Jungkook caused it, but you weren’t some type of Bella Swan. You weren’t going to lock yourself away. You were going to do what you knew best, regress into a stage of life where the only romance issues you had were with Fanfictions and the only thing you had to worry about was getting your ass completely handed to you on the mat.
You blinked, staring blankly across at the man who was meant to be your opponent. He was pacing back and forth, readjusting the strap around the gloves he wore. He wasn’t watching you anymore because he didn’t see you as a threat. He must’ve picked up on the way you allowed him to hit you, with little defensive moves to stop him. You were an easy target- young, hurt, trying to forget.
You blinked again, but suddenly it wasn’t the man pacing before you, but another. A short, stocky build jumped to a tall, lean one, stepping across the mat with long, calculated strides. You watched the way his eyes changed to that homely shade of brown, dazzling in the dim lights. Now he was watching you, through the tops of his lids with lips twitching upwards into the sleepy smile he’d always given you in the morning.
“Oh,” you muttered to yourself as you straightened up, cracking your knuckles in your palm, “fuck you.”
The short man was back now, but it was too late for him.
You were already charging at Jungkook with guns blazing.
“She’s not answering,” Somi heaved, defeated on the love sofa of her apartment’s living room. Legs crossed and a pizza slice in hand, she took another greasy bite and chewed, staring angrily down at her phone. Across the couch was Jungkook, who might’ve now been on his thirtieth phone call that evening.
“You haven’t seen her?” He asked Minjae, a student in one of his health classes. “Are you sure?”
On the other end, Minjae suggested that she might’ve been somewhere in Seoul, or that she could have left the city altogether. The idea that this event might’ve driven her out of her own home and comfort made him sick. With a final thanks, Jungkook locked his phone and tossed it aside his thigh in exasperation.
He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, throwing his head back against the sofa.
“She’ll come back,” Somi sighed. “We have finals next month anyway. Worst comes to worst, we wait a month.”
“I’m not waiting a fucking month,” Jungkook pushed himself off the couch, angrily shoving his feet back into his shoes. Somi watched, surprised at his sudden movements as he hurried to the front door.
“Where’re you going?” Somi demanded, rising to her feet.
Jungkook didn’t even spare a glance at her over his shoulder. “Wherever I can look,” he tugged his hoodie down and sighed. “The forecast said it might rain tonight. If she’s not indoors, she can catch a cold, or worse.”
“She’s strong,” Somi declared, though half of her wanted to run out with him.
“Don’t care,” Jungkook reached for the door handle. In half a second, Somi allowed that half of her to take control, rushing towards him.
“Fine. Then I’m coming with.”
This time, Jungkook glanced down at her. Somi squared her chin and glared at him, snatching her jacket off the hook.
“What?” Somi snapped. “She’s my best friend. Plus, you’re the one who sent her into this.” Huffing, she yanked open the front door and proudly marched out, leaving Jungkook to stare at his feet. It was his fault. Somi was right. He sent you running- it was his fault.
But it was someone else’s, too.
“Wait,” Jungkook stopped in the middle of the dorm hallway, lips curling inwards and a muscle in his jaw flexing. Somi turned around to look at him, realization dawning on her. A sinister smirk twitched at the edges of her mouth.
“Let’s go get that bitch.”
The hotel room seemed superbly empty.
And alone.
You wondered why they would paint the walls such a dull shade of orange, or why the stain on the carpet looked suspiciously like blood. Generic paintings hung by the bathroom, which was not much more supreme. The bed was all springs beneath your sore limbs, squeaking with each movement you made to rest.
All you heard was silence.
Maybe you were being dramatic. You could go home, you thought. Face your problems for once instead of running away to cope. Why was it that you couldn’t cope like most people? Why couldn’t you stay in your dorm, waiting for Jungkook to come running, as though he hadn’t made you his second option in the past week? Why was your method of coping a fist to your face and your knuckles in another?
Your phone had been off for the past few hours or so, though the temptation to turn it on was almost suffocating. A part of you, the addicted part, wanted to go on Twitter and see the latest funny posts- just so you could feel the ache of a smile. The other part was reminded that it was social media that led you to feeling this way. The caption replayed in your mind and in that silence, all you could hear were the words telling you that you’d been wrong to feel that way all along.
Why weren’t you good enough? It didn’t come as a surprise that you asked yourself this question often. You thought you were used to being let down, to being disappointed. Yet now, this ache that you felt in your chest and the tightness of your stomach- this painful feeling of heartbreak was one you hadn’t felt since adolescence.
You were pretty enough. Symmetrical enough to pass for ordinary, though as you stared at your bruised reflection across the empty hotel room you couldn’t help but think that there was nothing spectacularly special about your features. Hair was okay, eyes were detailed enough. Well, the one eye that wasn’t coming down from swelling, at least. Though, the longer you stared the more it seemed like your face wasn’t yours, and you closed your good eye shut tight to avoid seeing the stranger in that forsaken mirror.
You wished you hadn’t caught feelings for a boy in college. Every story you read warned you, but the hope in your heart had led you to believe that maybe, just maybe, Jungkook would feel the same. The mornings the two of you spent together warmed your core and you couldn’t help that. You couldn’t help how hopelessly you’d fallen for him, and you wished that you’d felt cold in his memories, but your lips still threatened a smile at the thought of him.
A Morning Never Forgotten
“Sleepy head..”
A voice was singing above your face, yet your body knew that it was far too early to be up already. Helplessly tugging your blanket over your face, you managed to roll over, back to whoever was pestering you, and snuggled into the warmth and scent of the shirt you wore. Unexpectedly, the blanket was pushed closer onto you, tucked in around your shoulders by careful, hesitant fingers.
“Hey,” that same voice whispered again, though this time it seemed less determined to wake you, and more as if it were speaking to the air. You felt two hands press down against your thighs, laying you flat against the mattress. A pair of sleepy eyes began to flutter open, and chapped lips yawned a nine-hour nap into the room.
Jungkook hovered beside you, leaned up against the headboard with one shoulder and the other angled towards you. His disheveled head hung over yours, his own sleepy eyes sparkling down at you. A slow, relaxed smile spread across his face at the sight of your consciousness and he reached out to push strands of your hair back onto the pillow.
You probably had three chins at that point in time. And granted, you liked to snore, so a dried trail of drool was definitely stuck on the side of your jaw. You couldn’t remember how much of your makeup you took off the night before, or how much melted off onto the sheets, but some part of you were certain that you had dark circles.
For whatever reason, Jungkook didn’t mind. In fact, he admired the speckles of mascara on your cheekbones, and the rubbed side of your left eyebrow against the pillow case. Your disheveled, knotted hair wasn’t off-putting, but instead inviting, and he thought for a moment he could sit there and untangle it for hours, even if he couldn’t tangle it again. There was something about the way your tired eyes were lighter in the morning, something about the way they sparkled in the streams of sunlight barely managing to escape through the closed curtains.
“Want some water?” Jungkook offered, trying to hide his amused smile.
You blinked slowly and yawned again, tiredly rubbing at your eyes. “Please?”
Chuckling lowly, Jungkook reached over to grab a half-drunk bottle off the nightstand. You watched how the muscles in his arm flexed as he leaned over your figure, and admired the tiny bruise just above his collarbone- your unintentional handiwork.
“What?”
Your gaze darted from his bicep to his eyes, which were squinted mischievously.
“See something you like?” Jungkook teased, settling down beside you to hand you the water. You scoffed and took it, sitting up straight to drink from the bottle. Jungkook watched the way your jaw flexed- an action subtle, that reminded him of the way you’d looked last night, staring up at him in the dim lights with your lips perfectly wrapped around-
“See something you like?” You swallowed your last gulp and brushed your fingers through your hair, fighting your sideways grin at the man beside you.
Jungkook snatched the bottle from your hands and slammed it down onto the nightstand. You watched him, eyebrows raised in surprise, though they instantly lowered the moment his fingers cupped your jaw and pulled you in close. Warmth flooded your chest cavity, filling you up from head to toe and burning your cheeks a delightful shade. Something inside you changed that morning, that one blissful time the two of you were graciously allowed to spend alone. You weren’t sure what it was at the time, but you knew that this feeling, this inescapable emotion of pure home wouldn’t leave quite so easily.
As for Jungkook, part of him already knew what this feeling was.
“Minjoo!”
Three hard knocks banged on Kim Minjoo’s door, resounding throughout the otherwise quiet living room. Startled, Minjoo looked up from her textbook, glanced at her phone screen, lit up with ignored messages, then to the door.
Who could be visiting her at this hour?
Confused, she pushed herself back from the small, round table and rose to her feet, treading hesitantly towards the front door. Rising to her tiptoes, Minjoo brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and looked through the peephole.
Big brown eyes stared back at her. Jeon Jungkook looked utterly disheveled, what with his messed locks of hair and panic on his face. Beside him, Minjoo spotted someone she recognized, though she couldn’t recall a name. It was the brown-haired girl with the one who worked at the coffee shop, and for a moment she wondered what the two of them could’ve possibly needed from her.
“...Hello?” Minjoo pulled the door back and stared at the both of them curiously. Her gaze lingered on Jungkook, the more familiar of the two, and a smile twitched at her lips.
“Minjoo,” Jungkook sighed, running his fingers through his hair exasperatedly, “we need to talk.”
She stepped back, glancing at the hallway to see if there were any other people watching. “Come in.”
“Alright, look, bitch,” the brown-haired girl came barging through the door before Minjoo could even get the words out. Dragging mud underneath her boots, the girl marched right into the living room and folded her arms stubbornly.
“Woah,” Jungkook eyed the stranger, “chill.”
She glared back at him.
Minjoo watched the interaction with pursed lips. “Excuse me?”
“Look,” Jungkook paced around the living room, looking about as stressed out as he’d ever been. Minjoo’s expression filled with worry at the sight of him. She stepped towards the man to comfort him, though Jungkook flinched, taking a step back from her outstretched hand. “You posted a picture of me on Twitter. You called me... ‘your man’.”
Minjoo blinked. “And?”
The girl snorted. “What do you mean ‘and’? You and Jungkook aren’t dating.”
Minjoo looked over at Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed down so far her eyes became shadows. “What’s your problem with me posting things of us, Jungkook?”
“We’re not-” Jungkook frustratedly paced back towards Minjoo, towering over her height. His jaw clenched angrily. “We’re not dating, Minjoo. And someone I care about very, very much saw that picture.”
The realization began to dawn on Minjoo. She remembered seeing him and the girl who works at the coffee shop together after class sometimes, but their laughter always seemed friendly. Looking back on it now, maybe Jungkook was looking at her in the way Minjoo had convinced herself he wasn’t. She remembered seeing the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up at the sound of his name being called from that girl’s lips, and the way they fell onto his coffee cup, as if it had burned right through his skin.
“The girl,” Minjoo assumed, looking up at him, “from the coffee shop.”
“Her name is ______,” the stranger declared suddenly, glaring at Minjoo over the coffee table.
“Yes,” Jungkook sighed. He couldn’t meet Minjoo’s eyes. Had he led her on this whole time? Had he ever done anything to make her think he felt something close to love for her?
“You love her?” Minjoo tilted her head. While her words were smooth, calculated, her heart felt as if it might snap, and her eyes burned more than they ever had without sleep.
Jungkook froze, startled by the sudden question. “Excuse me?”
Minjoo laughed bitterly. Her glare was piercing when she looked back at him, arms folded over her chest and bottom lip threatening to quiver. “I said, do. You. Love. Her?”
The question had taken aback Jungkook. He’d never been asked so straightforward how he felt about someone, not ever. For some reason, the word “love” made his heart beat right out of his chest, in some cartoonish fashion he prayed no one could see. That single word had the ability to bring him back to memories he had with you, the ones in the morning, particularly the one after a long night of carnival games. The way your smile sparkled in the fairy lights flipped on a switch within him.
He didn’t have a word for it then, but he supposed “love” might be able to capture the feelings he felt for you.
“Yes.”
Minjoo blinked, eyes falling to her feet. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How many people had seen the photo she posted? For how long had she led herself on to believe Jeon Jungkook might actually feel something for her, too?
“I’ll take it down,” she stepped back from him, spinning on her heel to head for her cell phone. “I got the wrong impression. I’m sorry.”
The stranger seemed confused at Minjoo’s actions. Had she doubted her intentions? Her feelings? Had Minjoo portrayed herself as such an ass that it was a shock to that girl that she had truly felt something for the idiot boy standing in her living room?
Jungkook chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Have you... did you see _____ earlier at all?”
Minjoo glanced at him over her shoulder. She debated on telling him the truth- that she’d seen the girl heading downtown with a dufflebag and a black eye. Or that she knew that there was only one hotel she could be staying at that was cheap and effective- benefits of being a psychology major.
Minjoo squared her jaw and looked at the two of them. “No idea.”
It was beginning to rain.
Jungkook looked up at the sky angrily, pulling his hood up over his head to keep his hair from becoming wet locks in his eyes. Beside him, Somi searched quickly on her phone, looking for any hotel in the area that was cheap.
“Dammit, ______,” Jungkook cursed, pacing worriedly in the courtyard. Seated on the bench, Somi glanced up at him. She could see that there was genuine concern on his face. She wished that you would just answer your fucking phone, just to tell her that you were okay- she deserved more than to be ignored.
Jungkook heart was pounding so fast he thought it might implode. He kept picturing you, somewhere out in the rain, cold and alone and teeth-chattering. The image was enough to send his body into fight or flight mode, activating all of his senses to start running, to start frantically searching for you.
Somewhere a couple miles away, you stared at the rain pitter-pattering on the window of your room, ignoring the incessant buzzing of your phone on the pillowcase.
summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.
piece 1, piece 2, piece 3
college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook
based off hozier’s song ‘like real people do’
One lazy arm was strewn over your stomach. It rose and fell with each soft snore and mumbled sleepy words. You could feel the warm of the sun streamed through the window landing on your cheek, stirring you from your dream. Torn from a fantasy dealing with a brown-haired boy, your tongue wet your dry lips and your eyes fluttered open.
The first thing you saw were piles of clothes in the corner of the room, any of which would become your outfit for that day’s lecture. Sunlight landed on any surface it could, illuminating the room with a soft, gold glow. For a moment you felt you were alone in that room by yourself, listening to your steady breaths and the soft hum of the radio on the nightstand, before you realized that your bed was occupied.
Lately, it seemed it always was.
Eyes trailing down the expanse of your body, you found an arm thrown across your waist, hugging you close against a warm chest. A soft inhale proved that it was Jeon Jungkook, snugly asleep behind you. His usual scent of cotton and laundry enveloped you. The tiniest hint of a smile crept up on your lips, twitching up the corners. You caught yourself before your teeth could show, and slowly turned to look at him.
Jungkook, of course, was sound asleep. His jaw was agape, his snores rumbling low against his makeshift pillow. You fondly brushed a strand of his light hair out of his eyes, and sighed.
Your situation was getting worse. You promised yourself those feelings you felt were just because of the things the two of you had done together. They had to be.
Jungkook’s mouth moved and he pressed his lips together with a tiny sigh, “Are you watching me sleep?”
Your gaze darted up to his eyes, which were slowly peeling apart to look up at you. Those long, feather-like eyelashes brushed the bone of his structured cheek. Warm and sleepy, Jungkook stared at you through the tops of his eyes, lips curving into a smile.
You coughed and looked away, face burning. “What? Pffffffft,” you scoffed, immediately pulling back from him, “no, that’s, like, so weird.”
Jungkook’s grip tightened around your waist. “Yeah?” He laughed, a deep, rumbling noise that matched his morning voice. Leaning upwards, he caught your cheek with his lips, softly planting kisses along your burning face. You felt your heart expanding, your chest tightening with whatever feeling this was. You’d never felt it before- this curdling, suffocating feeling.
Jungkook’s lips captured yours in one long, savored kiss. Instinctively you reached up to caress his jaw, but caught yourself. That was too much. He wasn’t your boyfriend, you reminded yourself. You couldn’t hold him like that, not in the way other girls were.
“I, uh,” you pulled back, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I have class in thirty minutes.”
He pushed himself up so that he was above you, his height an advantage that allowed you to look up at him through your lashes. You couldn’t have possibly known what he was feeling in that moment- if his heart was tight like yours, if his breath was caught in his throat like yours.
“So?” Jungkook pursed his lips in rejection. “You don’t have to get dressed nice or anything.” He leaned forward to kiss you again, but you swiftly turned to grab your phone, acting as if you hadn’t seen his move. He hesitated inches away from your face. “What’s wrong?”
Your mind flashed back to the tiniest hint of a hickey you’d found on his throat. It wasn’t yours, and you knew it. Your stomach clenched and fell between your legs, though you fought to keep this bit of information out of your expression. You forced your best smile and looked sideways at him, as if he were the one acting odd. “Nothing, weirdo.”
Jungkook pouted and placed his hands on either of your thighs. “Can I have a kiss then?”
You imagined, for a split second, what this could be. If he was your boyfriend. If he’d bring you lunch to work, if he’d send you cute messages or comment nice things on pictures you posted, if he’d show you off on his social media- or to his friends. Jungkook would be an amazing boyfriend, and you were sure of it.
He just wouldn’t be yours.
Your gaze faltered. “I really… I should really go take a shower.”
On the nightstand, Jungkook’s phone buzzed. You glanced over, saw the message, and looked away. He watched you as you pushed yourself off the bed and brushed your hair behind your ears, hurrying towards the restroom. Jungkook pressed his hands to his face and groaned, falling sideways onto the bed.
He always messed things up. Did he say something wrong? Was he coming on too strong? Did he have morning breath?
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself as he snatched his phone off the nightstand, angrily checking what message had sent you running away.
+70291739472: heyyyy cutie, wyd tonight? (;
Who even was this? Jungkook couldn’t remember which girl it was texting him, but after scrolling up he suddenly recalled who she was- some girl in his environmental science class that he used to mess around with that was way too clingy and horny. But, he knew it was dumb to drop all the girls he ever talked to for one girl, for you, and in doing so he would get hurt. It had happened too many times before- where he gives up everything for someone who doesn’t feel the same.
He couldn’t have you. He couldn’t have the obnoxious snores you made during psych when you fell asleep, or the drool that you would readily wipe away upon returning to consciousness. He couldn’t have your awkward jokes mumbled under your breath to keep your spirits up, or the jovial smile you gave to every customer you tended to. He’d ruin you.
Right?
jungkook: nothing, wbu? (;
“That’s not even true,” you laughed, shaking your head as you scribbled down a definition into your notebook. Across from you, a black-haired girl threw her head back and snorted, nearly spitting her coffee all over your book.
“Is, too,” Somi persisted. “On my life, I swear she watches horse porn.”
An onlooker in the aisle beside your study space looked over at the two of you. You laughed into your hand and fought your instinct to slam your hand on the desk in amusement. By far, you and Somi were the two loudest people in the library, even amongst the subtle hum of chatter that buzzed around the entrance. Hidden in the back corner, you were propped up in a comfortable reclining chair, legs crossed and textbook in your lap. A pop-up table allowed you to copy vocab into your notebook. Across from you, Somi laid on her stomach on the floor, giggling uncontrollably into her hoodie.
“Hey,” Somi suddenly said, looking up at you with red cheeks. “So how about J?”
J was the codeword the two of you used for Jungkook. Your eyes darted towards her at the mention of him. Pursing your lips, you huffed and scribbled down the definition for ‘manifest content’. “What about him?”
“When’re you going to ask him on, like, a real date?” Somi questioned. She pushed herself up so that she was sitting cross-legged, gazing up at you speculatively.
“Um, like, never,” you mocked, rolling your eyes.
“Why not?” Somi demanded with a large and heavy sigh. “If it’s some bullshit reason like ‘he’s the guy so he has to do it’ I will shove my foot up your 19th-century ass hole.”
You scrunched up your face. Before you could shoot back with some pithy remark, your words died on your tongue, and your stomach dropped.
From your seat, you could clearly see the entrance, and Jungkook sauntering in. He had to be dressed casually- of course he did. His white v-neck and sweatpants would most certainly be the death of you. You watched as he paused at the entrance, looking around as you hid underneath the hood of your sweater. His lips curled into a frown and he pulled his phone from his back pocket, typing a quick message.
jungkook: hey, you working?
Your phone buzzed on your lap. Carefully glancing at it, you looked up to make sure he didn’t see you, and shot back a quick response:
you: yup.
“Look at him,” Somi whispered, dragging herself closer to your chair. “He looks totally conflicted.”
“Somi,” you sighed, “no one uses that word in a real conversation.”
“Shut up.”
But he did, or at least you thought so. You watched him stare at his phone, fingers lingering over the keys and typing messages. The little bubble formed at the bottom of your screen, disappearing and reappearing in unison with Jungkook’s thumbs. You thought, maybe, he’d shoot you a response- or, the hopeful part of you did.
You never knew what his message said. His thumbs stopped when someone called out his name, drawing his attention and jerking his head up. Someone was jogging towards him, weaving their way through the crowd of sleep-deprived college students. Not even the scent of your coffee by your lap could calm you, not when some blonde haired girl was hurrying towards him. You watched, stomach tight, as she threw her skinny arms over his shoulders and pulled him close. You knew this proximity, the way she guided herself over his height so easily. She’d left the hickey.
“Oh,” Somi’s eyebrows fell in disappointment. She quickly glanced towards you, placing a hand on your knee comfortingly, “He’s an asshole.”
“No,” you smiled tightly at her, shrugging it off, “he’s just a friend with benefits. He can do whatever, whoever, he wants.”
Somi chewed her lip. “_____-”
“Seriously, Somi,” you shook your head and looked down at your book. You didn’t think you could bare to see the way Jungkook and that girl would look at one another. Maybe he looked at her in all the ways he never would with you. Maybe he sent her text messages saying “thinking of you” throughout the day. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not-”
“I should get ready for work,” you closed your book with the notes inside it.
Somi stared at you, lips parted. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you,” she announced, chin lifted high and eyes soft. “Not with me.”
You smiled slyly and shoved your book into the bag sitting on the floor. “Somi,” you sighed, shaking your head as if she couldn’t possibly understand. “I knew what I was getting myself into. He doesn’t feel that way about me.”
Somi jumped to her feet the second you rose to yours. Her eyes bore into yours, concerned and urgent, begging you to stop and talk to her. Your gaze darted from her back to the entrance, watching Jungkook and that girl head to the back corner you and Somi were stationed at. Your breath caught and you slung your bag over your chest.
“I’ll text you,” you told her in a hushed voice. Somi called out for you as you hurried towards the exit, fingers cold and practically shaking at your sides. You kept your head down, eyes averting his as you pushed past.
Jungkook saw your hoodie and he knew it was you, even though you tucked all your hair away and forced a shadow across your face. His stomach sank when he realized you were avoiding him- you weren’t at work, and your texts were short.
As you practically ran past him, Jungkook was tempted to grab your wrist, to ask why you were acting weird, to demand an explanation. He wanted to badly to feel the comfort of your warm smile aimed at him, or to at least know you still wanted him. His feet moved on their own and swiveled around to look at you, watching your hooded figure shuffle out the sliding doors.
“Who’s that?” Minjoo wondered, staring at your back disappearing down the street.
Jungkook caught the word on his tongue before he said it. “Uh.. a girl in my intro to psych class.”
Minjoo nodded, as if she could possibly understand.
The other part of Jungkook whispered in his ear the word his heart ached to claim.
girlfriend.
p.2
a/n: super short but i haven’t written in months and a lot of things have happened to me since… sorry if this sucks omfg
summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.
college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook
piece 1, piece 2, piece 3
this component is based off russ’s cherry hill
“Earth to _____?”
The vibrating chatter of Sunrise patrons hummed against your skin, lulling you into some state of hypnosis as you pressed a cup of coffee down into the machine. Your eyes were stuck open, staring blankly across at the posters on the brick-styled wall. Fatigue weighed heavily down on your shoulders, a stark reminder that for the past weeks you’d spent your time during the night doing the opposite of sleeping- a bad choice on your part, and you knew it. With heavy eyelids, you forced a long, drawn out blink, tethering yourself back down to the present.
“Sorry,” you pushed out a laugh and foamed the top of the drink, sheepishly gazing sideways at a coworker. Taehyung stared at you curiously and took the drink from your shaking fingers, which he too eyed suspiciously, then called out the customer’s name.
“You sure you’re alright?” Taehyung muttered as he walked around your back, letting his sights travel over your rolled jeans and loose-fitting t-shirt. There were no signs of you being hurt anywhere, and he pursed his lips in part worry, part confusion.
You moved to look at the next given order, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. “Yeah, Tae,” you reassured him, “I think I did too much coke last night, though.”
Taehyung snorted. You grinned sneakily at him, and began to press another cup of coffee down once again.
“You can tell me,” Taehyung announced sideways at you as he handed a customer back her cash. The woman smiled softly at him and dropped change into one of the two jars: one reading ‘Mario’ and the other reading ‘Luigi’. The cups changed tip names once a day, depending on whoever was working. Sometimes it was Hamlet vs. Caesar, Jackson vs. Jefferson, etcetera.
You slid the next mug onto the counter and called out the name. The first syllable rolled off your tongue before it hit you- who the name belonged to. Raising your eyebrows, you felt your stomach clench with nervousness, eyes wide and surprised as you looked across the room.
Seated by the decorative board with lists of ads probably decades old was none other than Jungkook. He was still wearing that God forsaken boyfriend-esque outfit, but now there was a beanie pulling his hair back from his face, allowing those curious brown eyes to roam over the posters. The midday sunlight was streaming in through the glass wall, illuminating his tan skin with an angelic haze that made you want to choke the life out of him. And although your fingers twitched to punch his stupidly handsome face, his profile struck a chord within you, reminding you of a time much simpler than this one.
The living room was cold and smelt of pizza and wings, both of which had occupied ample space on the coffee table by your chest. Cross-legged and dressed in only a lengthy, long t-shirt, you chewed at your third slice of pizza ravenously. Beside you, Jungkook watched you out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly to himself when he spotted the smear of barbeque sauce on your cheek.
“That’sh sho dumb,” you huffed, angrily staring at the television. Jungkook felt his smile turn into an amused grin. You swallowed, and for a moment he thought you would (for once) speak with your mouth empty- at least, until, you tore another piece of chicken off and continued. “Why can’t Leshlie mm Ben jusht dade?”
Jungkook glanced at the show, where two characters sadly stared at each other across a table, then back to you. He couldn’t help but admire you like this- no makeup, hair a mess and tied back so you could eat easily, his shirt and underwear on. You were a vision with or without looking like this, but he always had a thing for unknown beauty. And while you were confident, you couldn’t have possibly known the things your smile did to him.
You felt his stare burning a hole into your cheek. Glancing at him oddly out of the corner of your eye, you turned to look at him, finally swallowing. “What?” You demanded, confused. “Something on my face?”
Jungkook tilted his head to the side, smiling. You furrowed your eyebrows and reached up to wipe your face clean, but his hand shot outwards and caught your wrist before you could. “Yeah,” he lowered your hand, though his other one came around to wipe the sauce off. Your cheek pushed against his fingers, soft and warm and brightening at his touch.
He stared at your wide, surprised eyes. Although the two of you had been messing around for a month now (he was counting), you still were always delightfully shocked at his actions. Your blush and that bashful look you got was his favorite of your expressions- well, that and your happy one… and your mad one… actually, all of them were his favorite.
You blinked, gulping. Jungkook leaned forwards on natural instinct, unable to stop himself from feathering his lips against your cheek. Your chest expanded with something indescribable at the gentle gesture, a stark difference from how he’d been only just an hour ago. You remembered the way he looked at you from above you, how he held onto your waist tightly and roughly and panted your name into your shoulder.
Something warm and soft found your lips. You melted into Jungkook’s touch as you always had, hands moving up to cup his jaw, feeling the structure beneath your palm. Your mouth felt as if it had lit up, eyes closed and everything dark, but your lips were neon red, pulsing in the absence of light like a beacon. Wherever he touched you was vibrant yellow, glowing against the color of your skin, a mental map outlining the dance of his fingers.
And oh, his fingers….
You blinked, jerking yourself back to the then and now.
Jungkook jumped to his feet. For a moment, you felt excited- here he was, the boy you tended to obsess over, walking towards you, about to speak to you- but that feeling shattered at the now visible sight of a blonde sitting across from him. Disappointment felt onto your chest, weighing you down against the tile floors. She looked too perfect seated there, with her hair immaculately straight and her eyes a dazzling hue of emerald. If you were Jungkook, you’d probably be with her instead of you, too.
“Hey,” Jungkook’s pink lips curved into that annoying smile of his. His eyes scrunched up as he reached for the drink, fingers curling around the handle of the mug. He glanced down at the foam design you made out of boredom- a generic, tiny little emblem of a flower. His heart grew warm at the sight of it.
You reminded yourself to breathe and forced your gaze away, “Hi.”
He wasn’t an idiot, and you knew that he knew you were avoiding him. The disappointed look on his face said it all, but you had to remind yourself that to him, you were a quick lay and the person he could text when he didn’t do the study packets. “Um, _____, do you think we could maybe-”
“I can’t tonight,” you looked back over at him with cold eyes. You couldn’t do that- not anymore, not knowing that he’d been with other girls- in other girls. And you knew it was ridiculous of you to feel this way, to even act this way. Jungkook wasn’t yours, he never said he was yours, and vice versa. Yet, your heart had already given itself away, knocking on the closed door of Jungkook’s chest.
Jungkook blinked. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to say-”
You laughed lightly, bitterly, to yourself, knowing very well that people were watching and Taehyung was nearby to sweep you away whenever he pleased. “You don’t have to talk to me,” you shot back bitingly, “you don’t owe me that.”
Jungkook wasn’t sure where this was all coming from, but he knew that it hurt. He knew that he didn’t like when you smiled at him like that- not the smile he kept as his hidden wallpaper, but a smile that was all business, that wasn’t his smile, not the one reserved just for him. It wasn’t the sleepy morning smile you gave him.
Frowning, he glanced backwards to see that Minjoo was watching him now, her head cocked to the side and confusion written all over her face.
“Hey,” Taehyung’s suddenly comforting voice interjected. Your head swiveled around in his direction, eyes silently thanking him for pulling you from that delightful conversation. “Can you cover the register?”
Without so much as a goodbye, or even a glance, you wiped your gloved hands down on your apron and nodded. As you passed by him, you muttered Taehyung a soft “God bless your grandparents” and hurried to punch in your sign-in code.
Jungkook’s mouth felt dry. The mug in his hand, that tiny little flower, no longer felt warm, but cold. He swallowed, trudging back to his seat, and plopped down in defeat, staring longingly at the dissipating flower as if your face might pop up, all smiles and kind, loving words. He wasn’t sure what he meant to you, now. Maybe he was just a fuck to you. Maybe all that you cared about was his dick and now that you’d gotten what you wanted on more than one occasion, you were done.
But your smile used to be so warm.
Now it was so cold.
“Long day?” Somi wandered into your bedroom. You were unashamed, laid out in nothing but a robe scrolling through Twitter posts. You flashed her a grin and flipped over.
“Do we have any bleach in the dorm?” You wondered, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m thinking of adding it to the menu.”
“Bleach frap?” Somi toed over to your bed and fell onto her chest, sighing long and dramatically against the comforter. “I’ll gladly take buy it.”
There was silence as you counted scuff marks of the popcorn ceiling. You could feel the question on Somi’s tongue, though she never asked it. The tension in the room was tight and high strung, so much so that you were tempted to get up and perform an impromptu rendition of PPAP.
“What?” You finally rolled over, glaring at your roommate suspiciously.
Somi blinked. “What?”
“Ask your question,” you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. Somi glanced away and pursed her lips comically, muttering to herself before she finally sat up.
“I don’t have a question,” Somi announced with a shoulder shrug.
You stared at her, “Seriously?”
Somi casually looked out the window and nodded, “Seriously.”
“Well,” you scooted closer to her, chewing on the inside of your cheek with squinted eyes, “then what do you wanna tell me?”
She shook her head, “Nothing, you weirdo.”
“Somi,” you tilted your chin and folded your arms, as if you were scolding a child.
“____,” Somi returned.
“Somi,” you looked at her through the tops of her eyes, hoping that you looked somewhat threatening.
“I-”
“Just tell me you fuckhead,” you pushed yourself up to your feet, glaring at her. Somi rolled onto her back and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her face dramatically. You watched as she mumbled to herself, debating over something of which you had no idea about, before she finally came to what seemed like a decision. She dug through her back pocket for her phone and curled her lips into a thin, unamused line.
Without warning she was tossing her phone in your direction. You quickly caught it, fumbled for a moment, then turned it over to take a look at whatever had been bothering her.
The picture was of Jungkook- of course, it had to be. You couldn’t have one day where he wasn’t intruding in some way or another, though if you were being honest with yourself you weren’t too torn in seeing his face on your timeline.
The twitter handle was @minjoowinchmajor, a name you weren’t familiar with, but you were with the picture. It was taken at your job, in your cafe, in the same chair you remembered seeing him sitting at. You assumed the person who had taken the picture was the girl he was with, the immaculate blonde one, judging by the angle. Jungkook wasn’t even looking at the camera, he was staring down into his coffee cup, and you had to wonder if he knew she posted this of him.
The caption read “everyone look at how handsome my man is”, paired perfectly with a cute little pink heart emoji. The fond term coiled your stomach into knots, suddenly turning it into a pro-gymnast on crack. On top of your fatigue now was anxiety, bubbling in the very core of your chest, making it feel tight, like you couldn’t breathe.
That was his girlfriend? Jungkook had a girlfriend? Since when? Had he been cheating on her with you? You, of all people he could cheat on her with?
“I know,” Somi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’re such little snakes-”
“It’s fine.” You locked her phone and handed it to her calmly.
Somi closed her eyes tight and shook her head, “____, it’s not. He’s an asshole, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.”
While your insides sparked with an intensity you hadn’t felt in years, with such an anger that your head spun, you moved slowly towards your phone. Somi watched in confusion as you typed out a message, fingers moving carefully and precisely. “What’re you doing?”
Your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button. It was such a petty, simple move to send the message. You knew everything you could’ve wanted, could’ve had, would be gone with a simple press of a button. You knew you’d ruin it, whatever you had with Jungkook. But an image formed in your mind- an image that spoke volumes, an image of him and a beautiful blonde girl curled up in bed together, watching movies and listening to music and doing everything you’d ever wanted with him.
Jungkook made his choice.
And now you were making yours.
A mile away, locked inside the boy’s dorm with a brown-haired boy seated on the couch in the living room, Jungkook returned with a bucket of popcorn and a pretend smile. He plopped down besides his roommate, Park Jimin, and was about to press play on the Vine compilation meant to lift his spirits when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Jungkook’s heart skipped when he saw the name- one of the only names in his phone, since he never took the time of day to put other people’s names in.
Jimin watched as Jungkook’s raised, spritely eyebrows fell, how his eager smile faltered and twitched into a straight, blank line. He couldn’t tell what expression Jungkook was wearing, but the boy’s eyes were… were they shining? In the dark, they looked like they were sparkling, and after a beat of confusion he realized they were watering.
Jimin looked up, concerned. “Dude,” he began, rising to his feet as Jungkook pushed the bowl off his lap and onto the floor. The popcorn spilled like a splatter across the rug. His first instinct was to scold his younger friend, but the curse died on his tongue when the twenty year-old rushed out the front door.
Eyebrows furrowed, Jimin reached down to grab the phone out of the mess he’d made.
sunshine: whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, i think it’s better if we end it. im sorry. please dont contact me again. thanks for all the “fun” times. i hope everything goes well for you.
a/n: also idk why i wrote this all today and why im posting it so soon after the first part but uh… most likely bc i have two ap tests and an extended essay to write and study for pls pray for me
summary: jungkook was your friend from childhood who you hadn’t seen since you were eleven. the death of your father sends you back to your hometown, but jungkook’s not himself anymore. you’re left wondering when your best friend became an asshole, and a wolf.
werewolf!jungkook, bitten!reader
pairings: jungkook x reader
genre: smut/angst
a/n: i’m an asshole. warning.
"Since when the fuck were you a werewolf?”
Nothing had changed.
Your brother’s house was the same as you had remembered it being. The brownish color of the wood had dulled in a less than obvious way but your eyes were quick to spot anything that had differed from what your eleven year-old self remembered of this place. The flowers were blossoming- maybe that was different. You eyed them for a moment and wondered if they had always been a peculiar shade of blue before the front door opened and the tires of the taxi you’d driven in screeched around the corner. A lump of nerves settled comfortably in the pit of your stomach, frightened eyes staring up at the big home. You wondered how just one person could live here- but then again, Yoongi had always been introverted.
Worn-out Converse crunched fallen leaves with each step forward. The brown suitcase in your left hand squeaked and rolled, thumping as you made your way up the three small porch steps. The wood creaked beneath your weight, though the sound was somehow euphonious and comforting at once. You paused. The rocking chair he liked to sit in was still there, aged but covered in a new rug, as well as the old pot with a crack in it holding the variety of vines that crawled over the porch walls and up the side of his house.
There was silence, then more, and then the door opened.
The shock of it opening by itself caught your breath in your throat and you tried your best to look collected, nothing like the jumpy frightened thing you felt in your core. Swallowing thickly, you watched as the pale figure of your brother came into view, still just a few inches taller than yourself. His hair was black again, not the variety of colors you remembered seeing on your father’s phone, but he was just as ghostly. His clothes hung off his skinny frame and you worried that he hadn’t been eating right since- well, since he’d heard the news. Other than that, he’d grown up since the last time he’d visited you. He was taller, his shoulders had filled out a bit, and his face had slimmed as you suspected it would. Though, that smile of his hadn’t changed a smidge.
It spread across his face, revealing teeth and gums, and for a moment you forgot to dwell on the reason why you’d moved for him. Yoongi’s arms stretched and the bag in your fingers dropped, rushing to envelop yourself with him. He even smelt the same, too- like firewood and vanilla, but it was a scent that meant ‘home’ to you, and it was a scent you’d been wrapped around in since… well, that’s for a different time.
“I missed you,” Yoongi’s low voice rumbled in your ear, his warm cheek pressed against yours.
“I missed you more,” you returned quickly. His smile imprinted on the side of your hair, insurging a mass of warmth and longing deep inside your chest.
It was a minute until Yoongi released you from his hold. He helped you carry your bags inside and you wandered into his home, memorizing every little detail that had changed since he’d been old enough to live on his own. Your bedroom, you found, was the room Yoongi used to sleep in. The walls were white, reflecting the halo-ish glow of the cloudy sky just outside his wall-length window. Tiny lights had been strung up around your bed frame, adorned with familiar blankets and a brown teddy bear sat in the middle.
“Do you wanna eat in tonight?” Yoongi wondered, leant up against the door with his arms folded over his chest. You glanced at him from the middle of the room. The bags under his eyes worried you and you doubted he’d been outside in days- since he got the news, you supposed. On the other hand, you couldn’t lock yourself away like your brother could. Being outside was a remedy of sorts. The woods behind his home were familiar and if you remembered correctly, there was a little spot for you to sit and relax for the duration of the night.
Looking up at him, you smiled, “Sure.”
Soppy leaves turned to mush beneath your feet. The sound of mud squelching with your every step quickly became familiar to your ears and you marched forwards, a bag over your shoulders and your hair pushed back from your face. If you focused, you could taste the remainders of your dinner, pizza and wings. Your arms were bare and you wished you’d taken Yoongi up on his offer of a jacket and scarf, but your stubbornness allowed a pleasant breeze of cold wind to brush across your exposed cheeks.
Sunset was soon. You could see the colors beginning to form as the sun dipped down behind the treeline, a vibrant arrangement of indigos and scarlet. Its resemblance to a fire was uncanny.
Eventually you found it- a small spot where you remembered visiting with your old friend in this town. It was a clearing in the middle of the forest, decorated with elaborate green vinery and flowers beginning to wither as the season changed. Situating yourself on the boulder you’d claimed to be yours, you folded your legs and sighed, tilting your head to stare at the miniature waterfall gushing before you.
You remembered the friends you used to have back when you visited your mother and Yoongi every summer. You’d become close with the neighborhood kids- one, in particular. He’d been a sweetheart who clung to his mother’s side and eagerly invited you to go hiking with the two of them, and he’d been the one who appeared at your door the first summer your mother moved to this town with a plate of cookies and an open invitation to play on his Game Cube whenever you wanted.
How was he? Was he tall now? Taller than you? Smarter than you? Last you remembered, you were giving him lessons in piano and he was giving you lessons in the simple algebra you couldn’t figure out. Smiling to yourself, you leaned back, wondering where he was- if Jeon Jungkook even still lived in Farcrest. This town was small and you couldn’t imagine that someone with Jungkook’s dreams was still here. He’d be a senior now, you realized. He was in your grade, your age, with a laugh and a bunny-like smile that screamed troublemaker but secretly hid his true nature of a shy, childish little kid.
You wondered how they all were- his friends, the ones he proudly introduced to you the first time you stayed with your mother for the summer here. What were their names? You remembered Taehyung, as he was as annoying as he was adorable- you’d had a crush on him, but it was overshadowed by Jungkook the following year. Park… Park Taemin… no, that wasn’t right. What was his name? Was it- oh, wait! It was Jimin! A smile hinted on your lips at the memory of that small boy with smaller hands and a hesitant, yet brave smile. You hoped he was doing well with his dream of being a dancer; it was all he talked about when you were there.
Caught up in reminiscing, you hadn’t realized the sun was gone had it not been for the icy breeze dusting your loose strands out of your face. Shivering, you tilted your head up to see that the sun had been replaced by a lingering white sphere, whose silver glow illuminated the clearing as if it were some kind of ethereal landscape. You eyed the dying flowers suspiciously.
Behind you, the trees rustled.
You paused. Convincing yourself that it was probably just a deer, or the wind, you pushed off the boulder and jumped down onto the leaves with a heavy sigh. With the sunlight not there to warm you, your bare arms were littered with goosebumps, teeth chattering on their own accord. You could hardly see anything without the sun there guide you- it didn’t help your vision was bad as it is, but now it was dark and you could barely distinguish between a tree and a long blur of brown. Anxiously you hugged your arms closer into your body, blew out a breath of gray smoke, and headed back the way you (thought) had came.
Crack.
Your feet halted again. You stared at the mass of a tree trunk before you and sucked in a nervous breath. “It’s just a deer,” you whispered with hesitation. Tentatively you stepped forward and at the same time you did, something low in the trees emitted a dark, deep rumble of a growl.
Not a deer.
Your stomach tightened in fear just as adrenaline began to flood into your veins. In the darkness, the pupils behind your contacts expanded until the shining color of your iris became a ring of glistening tears. Fight-or-flight instincts moved your feet forward and you didn’t even realize you were running until you felt the air, hot and wet on your face. The silence of the forest was overwhelming but now you were listening for even the slightest sound of disturbance. Your ponytail came loose, strands of hair obscuring your vision, but you didn’t stop.
The ground shook with each pounding step the animal took after you. For a moment you felt ridiculous, as if you were in some kind of movie because these things didn’t happen. Your life was as normal as it could be but now you were here, sprinting through the darkness with dim, silvery strings of lights as your hints and there was something coming after you- it had to be a bear. It couldn’t be anything else.
Its growls bounced off the trees. The sound was something out of a movie- low and dark and twisted, rumbling in its throat against the forest walls. You could hear the sound of your heavy breaths as you hung a left, hoping maybe you could throw it off but-
Your ankle twisted underneath your weight and you cried out in pain, screaming for the chase to end. And before you could stop you were suddenly airborne, flipping onto your side and crashing onto the ground with a loud, resounding thump. Fuck, you were on a hill. Grunts escaped your broken lips with each flip, with each powerful blow your body dealt the forest floor in your relentless torment of a night. Your momentum picked up and you wished- god, you prayed- that your speed was faster than the thing coming after you.
Your whole body ached when you finally rolled to a stop. The bottom of the hill was caked with mud and held a tiny little puddle, though it was more of a river now, as a reminder of the rain earlier that day. It was strikingly cold and distracted you from the pain you felt, but the taste of mud in your mouth was too much and you sat up, spitting out blood and dirt onto the forest floor.
A part of you wanted to lay there and rest, to listen and hear if it was still running, but the other half of you- the one guided by adrenaline and the desire for survival- pushed you to your feet. Your ankle cried out when you stepped on it but you went forwards anyway, Converse crunching leaves with each trudge forwards. In your chest, your heart pounded against your ribs, creating an erratic rhythm that only sped up when you realized something-
it had gone completely silent.
Shaking in trepidation, you slowly looked up across the mud and water. In the reflection of the moonlight, you could see yourself- your cheek bruised, hair caked with dirt and hanging in wet strands before your face, your lip split. And as your eyes traveled across the lake, they met the reflection of something else on the glittering surface- something with glowing red eyes and a hunger you’d never seen before.
Everything froze.
It stared at you through your reflection. Its body, a mass of black and hind legs and hair trembled with anticipation, shaking feverishly across the river. With each exhale you watched clouds of white breath flood the air, disappearing like rivulets of smoke towards the night sky. Glowing embers of eyes glared at you, slowly traveling up the sparkling water and towards your body, rigid and frozen in place.
Suspense built in your core. Your fingers were dug into the mud, holding you in place, and his long black nails clawed at the ground like a bull at a rodeo. He stared at you for a moment and you were suddenly certain that this wasn’t a bear- but it was close, and it looked familiar and God... were those ears? Why did they look so... human?
Before you could think the creature let out a growl, something so retched and raspy that it nearly made you throw up. The ground met your back and you lost your ability to scream. Instead, you stared up at it, pupils blown and fear written across every feature of your face, lips curled in and nostrils flaring uncontrollably. Up close it was even more odd to look at... even more human than you’d thought. Black hair climbed up its jaw and decorated its back, in par with a protruding brow bone and a mouthful of long, sharp canines glistening with saliva. Something wet trickled down the side of your head and your vision blurred, then sharpened, then blurred again, like a camera lens focusing and unfocusing. Hot, wet breath trickled across your lips and damn, did this thing need a mint.
Pain erupted in your side before you even registered it moving. Your eyes grew round and wide, staring up at the skyline while knives entered your hip. Your scream was lost in your throat and you could only gasp, clawing at the ground as if it might help you home. Another low growl rumbled against your skin and your head lolled backwards, thumping against the dirt.
By the time it stopped you were almost gone. Lapping at the wound it created, the humanoid beast lifted its head, teeth stained crimson, and looked up at you. Those eyes... you were sure you’d never forget them, that you’d never forget the overlapping shades of gold and red, burning into your skull.
A tiny whimper hummed against your lips. Your hands were shaking as your tried to cover your hip, trying to stop blood from leaving though it seeped through your fingers nonetheless. And for a moment you swore that creature, that thing had heard your pathetic attempts to help yourself, that its grim eyes had flashed over with something... something like guilt.
You weren’t sure. You couldn’t be sure. Any intelligent thought you had drained out with your wound, dripping burgundy onto the leaves at a slow, steady pace. Your adrenaline was gone and your instinct to fight was rapidly dwindling to an ember. Fingers shook at your sides, before they stilled, and your body went slack against the side of the hill. Your eyes, round and frightened, relaxed until they were half-moons, lazily glaring down at the beast.
And as you slipped into unconsciousness, the only thing you remembered were the words softly escaping your lips.
