“One thing is for certain: you will always be his favourite client.”
Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader
Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life, suggestive Fluff
Warnings: sexy tattoo artist!Jungkook in a tanktop, domestic sweetness, they’re couple goals, so much fucking flirting, innocent touches & neck kisses, casual nudity, way too many innuendos and smutty jokes, he calls her "his brave girl", if i were her i'd already be getting a mouthful of his di- *gets shot for speaking the truth*, he has so much soft Dom energy in this i want to crawl up walls
Wordcount: 3.1k
a/n: it's actually a crime that i haven't written anything about tattoo artist koo yet. listen. i wanted to keep this story fluffy but i just can't help myself from making it a lil smutty. see it as a foreplay story fjadsfj no joke, this koo would make me wet 24/7 if he was real and my boy JFADSJF anyway have fun my besties 🧡
You and Jungkook share a business relationship today. You are his customer and he is your tattooist. It isn’t a new thing for you and him. As a matter of fact, Jungkook did all of your tattoos.
His studio has become a very cozy and welcoming spot over the years. When Jungkook bought the place, it was rundown and lacked a lot of things. Once a whale-themed nail studio it had the space but definitely not the aesthetic Jungkook wanted to go for.
You remember all the long nights you spent in the studio with him doing hard manual labour to save money. You would do it again if he asked you because you will always support his dreams. Just as he supported you when you painstakingly renovated your restaurant. You remember all of the cup ramen you downed, dirty and surrounded by debris. You remember all the back aches, sore hands and blisters. You remember all the useless little fights a long work day forced you to have and all the very clingy apologies you shared after a long shower. You remember the times your friends helped and you listened to music as you worked. And you remember how Jungkook just kind of sat in silence in the studio once everything was done and how he didn’t really know how to articulate his feelings about it.
“What if I did all that and it ends up failing?” he whispered long into the night, cuddled against your chest where he felt the safest.
“It won’t. Your art is amazing and people will fight for a spot on your wait list”, you assured him and you knew that you weren’t lying. You believed in him.
And you were right. These days, Jungkook’s studio is regularly booked out for months on end and his social media page – which Taehyung manages – reached a hundred thousand followers last month.
With the money, Jungkook was able to turn the studio from nice to homely. He would never say it because he is a perfectionist, but you think that it is perfect these days. Held in black, it is the perfect canvas for colourful accents and retro accessories. Art prints of his designs adorn the walls of the front area and custom-designed neon signs hang on the walls of the tattooing area in the back. He has sofas and chairs where his customers can take a break or calm down after their tattoo and he even offers a shower if one wishes to clean up before the session and a very comfortable changing area for all those needing to take off stuff. He keeps everything squeaky clean because hygiene is most important to him and many people leave surprised at just how clean and nice a tattoo studio can actually be.
In total there are three tattoo chairs he switches between depending on the area he needs to tattoo. You sat in all three by now. They are all very comfortable and you can confidently say that he knows what he is doing.
Jungkook closed shop early today. You are his customer and that means the outside world wasn’t allowed in his shop. The closed sign is hanging on his door and the blinds are drawn closed to lock out prying eyes. You unlock the door with your set of keys after finishing your pilates class with Taehyung and Jimin. Yoongi is watching the dogs.
It is dim inside and Jungkook has scented candles burning. He also has your shared playlist running. You and he made your very own tattooing playlist which you always listen to when he tattoos you.
You lock the door and take off your outdoor shoes before making your way to the back.
The lights of the tattoo chair are turned on so he can see. Other than a few candles, it is dark in the back. He hates the big lights. The heaters are running so you won't get cold. Because of the warm temperature, Jungkook is hot enough that he only wears a tanktop. It is tight and shows off parts of his impressive back tattoo. He is preparing the stencil, moving his head to the music.
“Hey, there”, you greet him.
He lifts his head at the sound of your voice and turns in his chair.
“Hey, baby. How was pilates?” he asks and struts to you with a sway in his hips as he moves to the music.
“Nice, but exhausting”, you say and kiss his lips in greeting. “Can’t wait to take a shower.”
“Take your time.”
You are here free of charge. Now to be fair, you offered to pay multiple times but he refuses to take payment.
“What’s the point? I’d put it into our shared account anyway”, he said.
“Well then, put it into your account for a change”, you argued, but he couldn’t be convinced.
“Tattooing you isn’t work, it’s like a date. I’m not letting you pay me for going on a date with you.”
You return from the shower in nothing but your panties because Jungkook will tattoo your upper back today. His other customers obviously aren’t that bared when getting their backs tattooed, but this is different. You are his wife and your nude body is familiar to him. This isn’t just getting a tattoo, it is bonding time between two lovers who are just way too comfortable with each other. This is why Jungkook made sure that it was obvious to everyone that his shop was closed today because it’s You time.
Jungkook has his back turned to you again when you return from the shower and so you decide to surprise him with a back hug.
He chuckles, stepping into it. He hums when you follow it up by kissing his back with a rub of his pecs at the same time.
“I hope that’s you, otherwise this is awkward”, he jokes.
“It’s me. Unless you are hiding someone in here”, you joke.
He turns in your arms, lifting you up on the bed, “that’s not funny.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Because you’re here now and I get to tattoo you.”
“Right. Phew, I’m actually nervous.”
“Why?”
“I’m scared that it’ll hurt.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle”, he says in a soft voice, caressing your waist. He gives your naked chest one little playful glance.
You look at him with Those eyes, making him snicker.
“I know what you’re thinking”, he coos.
“It’s not my fault when you say it like that.” You nudge his chest. “I hope you’re not talking like this to other customers.”
“Ew no, of course not. Innuendos are solely reserved for you.”
You chuckle, “good.”
He hums and kisses your lips, gazing at you afterwards.
“It’ll hurt like a bitch, won’t it?” you ask him, feeling up his toned arms casually.
Jungkook rubs your thighs, “we can go for as long as you can go. We don’t gotta finish all of it today.”
“I know. I feel good, just nervous. You know me.”
“Mhm, yeah.” He kisses your cheek as he hugs your waist with one arm. “My brave girl.”
“Shut up”, you chuckle, “don’t call me that.”
Jungkook laughs and steps back.
“Now, stand up. I gotta place the stencil.”
You get off the bed and place yourself in front of him, watching him in the mirror. Jungkook works diligently in placing the stencil. You wanted something that starts at your sides and which then snakes its paths under your shoulder blades to bring out the shapes of them. The idea of the tattoo is to accentuate and support the lines of muscles, bones and joints your back carries on this area. Jungkook had the idea because he likes when tattoos support the natural curves and lines of the human body instead of looking pasted on without thought. He showed you a few drafts and in the end, you decided to go for a tattoo solely done in black ink.
Jungkook pulls off the paper, inspecting his work with furrowed brows.
“Yeah that’s good”, he says, “look at the mirror. Do you like the placement?”
Jungkook set up his mirrors so that one can see every spot of their body without having to do acrobatics. Again, he thought of everything in his studio, even mirror placement. You inspect the blue stencil sitting on your body. Jungkook places himself behind you, touching the right side of your waist gently as he studies the stencil in the mirror. Again, the treatment you get here is exclusively reserved for you. Jungkook doesn’t touch his other clients except for strictly tattooing touches.
“I like it.”
“Yeah? Is the placement off somewhere?”
“No, it’s perfect. I really like it.”
Jungkook kisses your shoulder gently, “I hate it.”
“Is this going to be another one of your it has to be more than perfect moments?”
“Obviously.”
Jungkook already printed out a few stencils because he knew that it would happen. He removes the first stencil carefully, replacing it with the second one.
“Mhm”, he hums, furrowing his brows.
“What’s the matter?” you ask him.
“Just making sure that I’ll like the placement.”
“Isn’t it normally that the customer should be happy with it?”
“Yeah, but I’m the customer too. What if it ends up being wonky? Then every time I bend you over, I gotta look at it and get mad.”
You whip around and slap his chest gently.
“You are so gross.”
He laughs, eyes sparkling.
“I mean it. How should I ever nut in doggy again when your wonky back tattoo makes me mad at my own failed placement?”
“Urgh, I can’t stand you, doofus”, you whine making him laugh and touch your hips.
“No, you love me.”
“Mhm, yeah I love you”, you give in, rubbing his shoulders, “give me a kiss, you idiot.”
He gives it to you happily, smiling into it. You retort the smile, ending the kiss with a fond chuckle.
“So about that placement.”
“Right. Turn around, it’s almost perfect. It’s just a little too high on the left.”
It feels good how he touches you as he replaces the stencil on your skin. It is gentle and done with his fingertips, which is really nice.
“Are you getting cold?” he asks.
“Mhm? No, why?”
“You have goosebumps.”
“No, it’s shivers. I like how you touch me.”
“Ah”, he lets out and follows it up with a fond chuckle, “I hope you’re not like this with your other tattoo artists.”
“No I am. I am like this with Jay and Kay, the other artists I go to”, you joke, making him laugh. He is the only person who tattoos you, so this joke is a total success.
“Wow, you are? Damn, I gotta fucking talk to those two. Are they hot?”
“They’re totally hot. Like, totally my type.”
His snickers continue.
“Damn, but I bet they can’t fight. Mhm, baby?” He slaps your butt. “Are they gonna fight for you like I will?”
“Probably not, no. You’re definitely the best fighter of them.”
“That’s what I like to hear”, he purrs and gives you another playful spank, “naughty girl.”
“Okay, you gotta relax”, you chuckle, “otherwise, this session isn’t even gonna happen.”
He snickers, “no, I’ll make it happen. It’ll work better when you’re horny.”
This joke totally lands, making you laugh.
“Wow okay, good to know. Since when is this a tattooing rule?”
“Since today.”
“Mhm I see and is this gonna be like a general rule in this store?”
“Mmh yeah, but only for one customer. She is totally my type and has a great ass”, he says and spanks you a third time.
“Hah”, you chuckle, “damn, she sounds dangerous. You want her?”
“Like crazy. She’s always on my mind.”
“Well fuck, but I bet she can’t fight like me. I did pilates today, I can totally take her.”
He laughs and kisses your shoulder, “you’ll definitely win, baby.”
You snicker, gazing at him in the mirror. He retorts it, giving you a cute nose scrunch.
“I just really like you, baby”, you say fondly, ruffling his hair.
“I like you too”, he whispers, stubbing your neck with his nose as a gesture of adoration.
“Heh.”
“Heh.”
A soft neck kiss and then he steps back.
“Now let’s be serious. Stand how you would normally stand.”
You follow his orders, watching him through the reflection. He is frowning in concentration, walking away and closer multiple times to check the placement from different distances.
“Yeah, I think this looks good. Do you want to take a look?”
“I like it. Although, I already liked it two tries earlier.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t. See how it ends with the natural curve there?”
“Yeah.”
“It didn’t do it perfectly before. But now it’s symmetrical and follows this line”, he says, running his fingertips under where your teres major blends into your trapezius muscle. “Do you see what I mean?”
“I do. It looks so cool already.”
He turns to the bed and fixes the hygiene cover.
“Get comfy, baby. I’m preparing the gear.”
You do as he offers, watching him work.
“I’m nervous. Does it hurt a lot to do the back?”
“It depends on the person. I would say it hurts for a lot of people, but I also had people who fell asleep during their back tattoos. Mine hurt, but it was bearable. Don’t worry, baby. You can take as many breaks as you need and we can go for as far as you are able to. No need to finish it today, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. I try to aim for that though. I really wanna have the tattoo already.”
He sits down on his chair and rolls closer, “yeah, I get that but don’t push yourself. It’s alright to do it in multiple sessions.”
“I know.”
“And I’ve got snacks and water whenever you need it”, he says, pointing at the table beside you.
“I know. You’re the best.”
“Do you want snacks already?”
“No. You want one though, don’t you?”
“Yeah”, Jungkook says, making you chuckle.
You look at the snacks.
“What do you want?”
“Preferably you.”
“Kook, why are you so horny today?”
“I’m not horny, I just like flirting with you. I want choco pops.”
You hand feed a couple to him, “you are totally horny.”
“I’m innocent”, he says, chewing vigorously.
You laugh, snacking on a few choco pops yourself before lying down on the bed face down. There is a hole cut out where your face goes. Jungkook made it more comfortable with a cooling gel pillow and a soft towel. Sometimes you misuse the bed for very private, late-night massages. No further details will be given here, other that Jungkook keeps his tattoo studio very hygienic and clean.
Jungkook drapes a heated blanket over your legs and lower back so you wouldn’t get cold. Then he sits down on his chair.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks, picking up the tattoo gun.
“Yes, very. This is so cozy.”
“Good. Relax. I’m starting.”
“I’m ready.”
The machine buzzes to life.
“Here it comes”, he warns and a stinging pain follows.
“Uh”, you let out, tensing up.
“How is it?”
“I can definitely feel it.”
“Just tell me when you need a break”, he says, sounding a little distracted but this is normal. Jungkook has the tendency to go entirely silent when he tattoos people because his entire focus shifts to the task ahead. You don’t mind. You like sharing silence with him. Even if this silence is accompanied by stinging pain on your back.
“How are you doing, baby?” he checks up on you after a while, switching out his needle after he accidentally hit the bottom of the ink bowl with it. Again, he is very meticulous with his tattooing process. He would never keep using a needle that got damaged.
“It’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be. Am I weird for thinking it’s kinda relaxing?” you say, looking at him.
He chuckles, “not at all. A lot of my female clients say that. Maybe it’s a relaxing spot for you girls.”
“Yeah maybe. Oh, uff okay the first stab is always a surprise though. Damn.”
“You’re doing really well, baby”, he murmurs mindlessly, eyes focused on the task ahead. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed into a concentrated pout. You just kind of gaze at him with droopy, fond eyes.
“How much did we do already?”
“I’m almost done with your left shoulder.”
“Wow damn. You’re so cool, Kookie.”
“Thanks”, he barely answers you, which lets you know that you won’t get a lot out of him right now. He is completely engrossed in the task.
You fix your head again and close your eyes. There have definitely been spots which hurt more than your back. Of course it isn’t comfortable, but it isn’t very painful either. It kind of feels as if you were getting pinched by something small and hot repeatedly. Weirdly enough, it relaxes your muscles.
Not long after, you drift off into a peaceful slumber.
When you wake again, the gun is turned off and Jungkook sits beside you eating snacks. As if he senses you, he meets your eyes.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
“How long was I out for?” you ask in a raspy voice, having to clear your throat afterwards.
“Around two hours.”
“Mhm that explains everything. I feel out of it”, you grumble, sitting up with struggle. Your face carries deep marks of the gel pillow.
“Drink something.”
“Thanks.”
“And eat a snack.”
“Mhm snack.”
He cleans up the table while you munch on the kimchi onigiri he made. It is very tasty.
“How much do we have left?”
“Mhm? Oh, we’re done.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Do you wanna see?”
“Uhm, yes? Hello? You gotta ask?”
He helps you off the bed and follows you to the mirrors, pacing nervously while you look at his artwork. He made it look so much more beautiful than you could have imagined.
“Wow, baby this is amazing. I love it so much”, you gush, eyes sparkly in awe.
“Really? Do you like it? Oh my god, my heart’s gonna come outta my ass.”
“Don’t worry, you can keep your heart inside”, you chuckle, turning to face him. You pull him close by his waist, keeping a grip on it. “I love it so much. It’s exactly what I wanted.”
Jungkook smiles shyly, “I’m so glad. I worked really hard. Wah, I worked so hard that my eyes hurt”, he whines and rubs them.
“Aw, my hardworking bubba. Should I take care of you, mhm?” you coo.
“No. You aren’t done. Turn around, I need to put on the ointment.”
“Oh? So when I flirt with you, you’re just gonna reject me?”
“Yeah, I don’t fuck around with aftercare.”
You turn with a laugh on your lips. He definitely doesn’t.
Summary: High school didn’t seem so bad, until Jungkook informed Y/N of her DUFF status.
Genre: Romance; comedy
Warnings: swearing; angst;
A/N: Based on “The DUFF” movie
not proofread
After last night's fiasco, you thought you could have a peaceful day, but you were completely wrong.
Jungkook decided to test your patience early in the morning with his annoying ass music blasting through his speakers at a very unglorious hour. The streets still dark and you're pissed. Your head was pouding and a faint smell of puking was lingering around your room, which made you feel even more sick
Fuck!
How did you end up being the DUFF? Better... how did your so called friends allow it? Why didn't they tell you? There's no way they wouldn't know that's your nickname around school. Even Lisa's boyfriend, before he was with her, asked about her before having the courage to take the first step and ask her out. And there you were, thinking you were just being a good friend.
Sitting at your bay window, now very much awake by your neighbors noise, curling up to watch the sunrise, pulling a jacket closer to you, you snuggle into it's warmth but all you can think of, for some reason, is Jungkook. The way he helped you, the way he was waiting for you outside that room just to check on you, the way he carried you so easily towards your bed, the way he smells so fucking good… The same smell that comes from the exact same jacket you’re using; the scent you could recognize anywhere, but - ohhh wait- a varsity jacket. Didn't you just give it to him last night? Quickly taking it off, you check the back of it, only to see the tag JJK on it. When did he have time to put his own jacket on you?
Disturbed with your thoughts, you look across and see him in the same position as you: sitting by his own window with music blasting, watching the sunrise. As if he felt your presence, Jungkook turns his attention to you, his usual smirk showing, yet, there was something missing.
Usually he smiles with his eyes first, then showing his cute little dimples as his smile grows bigger, scrunching his nose halfway, yet, the one he's giving you right now doesn't reach his eyes. You return his smile courtly, giving him a little wave. You watch how he mimicks your movement, raising his hand with his palm turn to you, signalling to wait, disappearing for a few seconds and reapearing with a textbook. He takes his seat once again and starts scribbling down something.
You look like shit
You scoff at his statement, glaring at him as he chuckles to himself. You go grab some paper and marker, ready to reply.
It's from looking at you
His smile grows and even though you're a bit far, you can tell the happiness in his eyes, the one missing just a few minutes ago, finally making it's appearence again. You notice how Jungkook was writting something else on his text book and you waited a bit to see what was gonna come next. Was he gonna mention the duff word? Apologize maybe?
Not what you said last night
You scoffed
You give me headaches. Shut down ur annoyng ass music btw
He didn't write anything else but his signature smile was back and for some reason you were happy. After giving him the middle finger, you closed your blinds so he couldn't see the inside of your room anymore. You're starting to enjoy Jungkook's presence more than you'd like, making you slap yourself once, then whine out in pain.
After getting ready and steal the last piece of french toast your mother made for herself, you grab your car keys and you head towards your car. On the way to school, you think about the last 24h and how mad you feel about this DUFF thing. Now that you know about it, you can't really forget it.
When you arrive at school, you parked, grabbed your things and got out. You looked around the parking lot and realized something: even your car was a DUFF; the ugliest, oldest and most dilapidated one.
Your life was ruined.
Your first class was science and it was shared with Jungkook. Although you shared that moment early in the morning, your conversation from the previous night kept replaying in your head over and over again. Fortunately, this class involved taking the knowledge you had learned so far and conducting experiments. That’s the funniest part of this type of class: getting your hands dirty.
"How's it going?" you look at the person next to you, however, when you don’t reply, he speaks again. "Shouldn't you be working in pairs?" He pulled up a chair and sat down near you. You shot him a death glare.
"And you? Shouldn't you be working?"
"My partner is doing that for me." You glanced at the desk where he was before.
"I work alone Jungkook. Just saying"
"Oh my god Y/n, why the bad mood so early in the morning? I should be the upset one, you ruined my favorite shirt." You punched his arm.
"You called me ugly, fat friend Jungkook, do you want me to throw you a party?" He looked at you indignantly.
"That's not what I said! I said you were a DUFF."
"That's exactly the definition of what I just said, idiot."
"You can't interpret everything so literally. Like, I told you yesterday, not all duffs are considered truly ugly and fat Y/n. It’s just a way of speaking" He was so lucky to be in class right now or else -
"Get out of here before I kill you" Jungkook started to get up, but not before saying
"You know I'm just kidding"
"I swear I'll kill you if you bother me again today." He raised both hands, returning to his seat with that brightless look you saw him with this morning.
Not that you gave a fuck about him anyway.
Upon arriving at the cafeteria, Lisa and Jennie were waiting for you. They were talking about something Jungkook and Mijoo related and how the party had ended with the police intervening.
"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asked.
"Yes, I'm just tired and hungry". Things got worse when you noticed how even the cafeteria staff spoke and acted towards your friends.
"Good morning Lisa, how are you? Today is your favorite meal. Hope it's good."
"Hey Jennie, you look good. Are you feeling better? You were a bit under the weather last week."
"Have a great day girls." But then it was your turn and you only got a "hi girl" and a fake smile. It was becoming increasingly difficult to accept the truth. Without them you didn't exist and you were tired of being in their shadow. You couldn't even look at their faces anymore without feeling irritated. Your friendship was a sham and when Jennie asked you to check her fashion work, you freaked out. "Can we talk outside?"
"How come you didn't tell me all this time that I was a DUFF?! Your DUFF!!” Lisa made a confused face.
"A what?"
"Designated Ugly Fat Friend. Yes, Jungkook told me everything!" They laughed at unison and that made you even angrier.
"Jungkook doesn't even know how to spell his own name. And since when do you give a damn about what he says? He just talks nonsense all the time."
"Because it makes perfect sense. After all, why would two beautiful and popular girls be friends with someone like me? It's because you're using me for some reason!"
Lisa retorted "Hey hey, calm down. Just because you think we're prettier doesn't mean that --" but you didn't even let her finish her sentence.
"Ahh, see? Okay, everything's fine. Is that how it is? Well then, let's end it here." You pulled out your phone and opened your social media, deleting them from every possible place imaginable. Childish behavior? Undoubtedly—but you couldn't think of a better way to get out of the situation they put you into.
“I’m finally free” you scream as you turn your back and leave.
You walked the halls with a different view on everyone. It feels like you were blind and needed Jungkook to open your eyes to something you should have seen a long time ago. You could hear whispers about your fight with Lisa and Jennie and the rumours spreading about Jungkook and Mijoo.
Wait what?
Your friends were indeed talking about Jungkook and Mijoo but you never caught the breaking up part. No wonder he looked down this morning; not to mention his obnoxiously loud music or how you spoke to him this morning. You really need to apologize for this morning's fit of rage.
The next class were with Jimin and Jungkook, but Jimin failed to show up, so you took the seat next to Jungkook to talk to him. "You okay?" you whisper, receiving a nod in response.
"Weren't you the one who to you'd kill me if I spoke to you again today?" He tried to make a joke, but the funny tone never came.
"Yeah my bad. I was moody. I'm sorry" He nods again as he turns away from you, only to look back a moment later. His big brown eyes were so captivating, perhaps that's why you can't help but notice them all the time, or maybe just today? You don't know. You always felt at peace navigating through his brown eyes, there was an innocence behind them that you can't explain, even though Jungkook was anything but innocent.
What has gotten into you? you ask yourself, shaking your head quickly, trying to erase those thoughts as you got up and went back to your seat, unable to keep the eye contact.
There were 5 minutes left before the dismissal bell when the teacher handed out the reports you did last week and you couldn't help but grin at the big A in front of you. When you turn around to look at Jungkook, you notice a big F on his paper. Then, the bell rang and everyone else had left, leaving just the two of you behind. You heard the professor call Jungkook and tell him he was on his way to fail the class and the only way he could play on the futbol team again was if he was able to raise the grade to a C, at least.
Jungkook wasn't dumb or anything like that. Few people knew about his ADHD condition and how this ends up affecting his attention. He can only focus on the things he truly enjoys, so everything else goes unnoticed and the only things he really likes are football and girls.
As you walked down the hallway to reach your locker, you saw Taehyung talking to a girl. She was beautiful and definitely not the group's DUFF and you just wish you could be like her: confident enough not to feel like you're about to swallow frogs every time you have to talk to your crush and there's only one person who can help you with that
"Jungkook! Can I talk to you for a second? It's important" you call when you see him on the field.
"You spoke to me not even an hour and a half ago. You love me, don't you?"
"Not even if you were the last man on Earth Jeon, but I have this matter I want to work on and you're the only one who can help" You give a long breath and stop him from running around. "I don't want this. I don't want to be the DUFF. I wanna be enough by myself. I don't want to help seduce others, I wanna be the seduced one" Jungkook stops in his tracks, looking at you as if you were mental.
"You're asking me for relationship advices? today of all days? You're kidding me, right?” he starts jogging again, making you run behind him faster. Oh gosh how you hate sports.
"Listen, I have a crush on this guy. Taehyung is his name, I'm pretty sure you know who he is. Well, the thing is, I can't talk to him without making a fool out of myself and it seems like you never have that problem. Can we stop running? I'm having a hard time to breath right now"
"What does that have to do with me?" He points an index finger at himself, cocking his head to the side.
"I want you to teach me"
"What’s in it for me then?" He questions, closing the space between you two, just for you to push him back slightly.
"I heard about your issue with Coach Grant and his deal with our teacher. You need your grades up to an average C in Science and I need your help. Quid pro quo. You help me and I’ll help you"
"Well that's not a fair trade. I have to unDUFF you. I mean, what the fuck are you wearing right now. Is that --you’re wearing pajama pants, aren’t you?" He crossed his arms over his chest, horror written all over his face.
"It’s a fashion statement!"
"I dig you girl, but that's something I have to think of"
"Then don't be an ass and give me a ride home. My car won’t start and I had to call a tow truck. I promise I won't talk"
"See? annoying duffy and also a liar " and you hit him, once again.
As soon as you got into his car, he turned on the music, perhaps to ease the tension between you two.
"Hey JK. Can I ask you something?" He looked at you for a few seconds before twisting his mouth in a mocking way.
"Weren’t you the one who promised not to speak?” He laughs. "go ahead." He really knew you well.
"Why are you with someone like Mijoo?" He stopped abruptly at the traffic light, jolting you forward a little, a sign that shows he wasn't expecting that question. He cleared his throat.
"I don't understand what you mean" you turn your body towards his.
"You're a good person, despite the stupidity of the nickname DUFF you gave me. In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you belittle or mistreat anyone. Unlike Mijoo, who, despite being beautiful, has nothing in her brain except despising others." Jungkook didn't answer right away. It was actually the first time you saw him take so long to answer. He pondered for at least a whole minute. How do you know? Because you counted every second.
As soon as he parked in front of his house, he looked at you, but with a serious look. "Where does all this come from, Y/n?" you sigh. Perhaps you're interfering too much in his life. Although you were friends, you never got to this sort of conversations.
"I heard the rumors between you and Mijoo and you seemed so off this morning. I just wanted to tell you that while it's understandable that you're sad, I want you to know that you are worth so much more than you think. You deserve someone who admires you and helps you become a better person, not someone who makes you feel small to fit into their world" You open the door to get out, making eye contact with him
"Thanks for the ride Kook"
Unable to sleep, you sit at your bay window with a book in hand. Why the hell did you bring Mijoo up? and the nickname you gave him? Kook- arrgh you NEVER called him that. Why did you say that? That was keeping you up at night.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you were startled when you hear a noise coming from afar. Looking up, you notice Jungkook writting something
Plans tomorrow?
Not really
You, me, mall. 11 am. Make sure to be ready!
After your conversation, something seemed to have changed between you two, or maybe it was just you. Oh god
nrfs drabble masterlist | nrfs m.list | main m.list
WC: 891
Summary: you’re on your period and Jungkook is a big sweetheart.
Warnings: menstrual cramps, caretaking during period, semi-nudity(jk shirtless, towel dropping), mutual pining?, unresolved romantic tension??, soft intimacy without sex :) , mild swearing
A/n: drop date(10/4/2025) just a lil something I didn’t put in a real chapter :’)
Four days.
You’ve been in bed for four days, cramps gnawing at your insides, a heating pad searing a faint red mark into your skin. Four days of being irritable, sharp-tongued, miserable. And Jungkook hasn’t flinched once.
He hasn’t tried anything. He hasn’t asked for anything.
He just keeps showing up—soft, warm, maddeningly sweet— like a gravity you can’t argue with.
The second morning is the worst, and of course that’s the one he picks to be annoying and perfect.
You wake up already regretting it. Your stomach feels like it’s folding in on itself, like everything south of your ribs got shredded and rearranged while you slept. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet and you’re furious at the world.
And then you hear it:
Humming.
You crack one eye open.
Jungkook is standing at the foot of your bed, shirtless, hair wet, a towel slung low on his hips, holding a steaming bowl with far too much enthusiasm for 9:06 a.m.
He’s smiling. Like some kind of hot domestic menace.
“Made you rice porridge,” he says. “With ginger and sesame oil. Jin hyung swears it helps.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” you grumble, voice still rough.
“You don’t have to ask.” His tone is light. “Move your laptop.”
You glare at him but push it aside anyway.
He sets the bowl down and tucks the blanket higher around your legs. His fingers are warm and annoyingly gentle, and it makes your throat tight.
“I hate this,” you mutter as another cramp twists through your abdomen like a blade.
“I know,” he says softly, brushing stray hair off your face. “Heating pad’s on low, but I can switch it if you want.”
“No,” you snap, sharper than you mean. “If you touch it, I swear—”
“I won’t.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re terrifying. I love that for you.”
You give him a deadpan look. “Stop talking.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And he does. He sits there for a while, scrolling on his phone with one leg tucked under him, keeping a respectful distance. You watch him through your lashes: the quiet concentration, thumb stopping and starting, a little crease between his brows. He doesn’t push. He just… stays.
Eventually he stands and stretches like he’s trying to make your day worse on purpose, then wanders to his side of your dresser—since when does he have a side of your dresser?—and pulls out a pair of sweatpants he left there.
“You good if I change?” he asks, already halfway committed.
You make a vague noise that’s supposed to mean sure, go ahead, but mostly just sounds like pain and defeat.
And then he drops the towel.
Like modesty is a myth. Like gravity doesn’t apply to him. Like you’re not lying there in fetal position with a heating pad strapped to your uterus and murder in your heart.
You don’t look.
You definitely look.
He steps into the sweatpants in one smooth motion, zero shame, and climbs back into bed like it’s nothing. Like you’re not dying both emotionally and physically. Like this is normal.
“Happy?” you mutter.
“Always,” he says, settling beside you with the smug calm of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
Another cramp hits and you tense hard, pressing a fist into your stomach.
Jungkook notices instantly. “Hey,” he murmurs, sliding a hand toward your back. “Wanna curl up? Sometimes pressure helps.”
“I said don’t touch me.”
“You didn’t say it like you meant it.”
You shoot him a look. “I will throw this heating pad at your face.”
“I’ll catch it with my kindness and devotion.”
You huff out a laugh despite yourself.
“Come closer then,” you mutter.
He does. Scoots under the covers like he’s done a hundred times, warm and solid, pressing the flat of his palm to your stomach through the blanket, rubbing slow, calming circles. His other arm slides under your neck like a pillow, cradling you against his bare chest.
You hate that it helps. You hate that you like this.
“You’re being nice,” you mumble.
He smiles into your hair. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“You’ll ruin your reputation.”
He chuckles. “Seriously, you’re allowed to be mouthy more often. I like you like this.”
“I’m a brat.”
“You’re a brat with cramps,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your side. “It’s different.”
You almost say something back—something like this doesn’t feel casual, something like stop being perfect. But the pain finally fades just enough to let you drift.
So you stay quiet.
And let him hold you until the worst of it passes.
He’s the one who brought you ginger tea without being asked. Ran out in the rain for your favorite snacks when you didn’t want to leave the apartment. Texted “need anything?” every time he went out, even just to the gym. Acting like your boyfriend without the label. Sleeping beside you without crossing a line.
He slept beside you every night that week, wrapped around you like a secret he didn’t want to share. No sex. No flirting. Just quiet. Just closeness.
And somehow, that feels even more dangerous.
Because when he kisses you, you can convince yourself it’s lust.
But when he holds you like this—like you matter—you don’t know what it is.
This is gonna sound super specific LMAOOO okay so can u write a jungkook fanfic smut pls where its an established relationship and the couple live in a huge beach house and have a private beach and they are relaxing on the beach and when the reader is tanning her back Jungkook like slaps her ass then they just like…have sex on the beach…I KNOW IT SOUNDS SO RANDOM BUT LIKE IDK i want it really passionate and like loving yk?
Anywho I love ur writing ur really good at writing!!! And thank you if u put this into consideration 🫶🫶🫶🩷🩷🩷🩷
Heyy thank you for your request!! This literally was so nice to write. Had me in my feels lfmfofsosj. Thank youuu💋🩷 (ps: sorry for the long ass wait)
mdni!!!
The morning sun painted the sky in soft hues of pink and blue, casting a warm glow over the endless stretch of ocean before you. Waves rolled gently onto the shore, their rhythmic whispers blending with the occasional cry of seagulls overhead. A salty breeze carried the scent of the sea through the open sliding doors of your home. The dream-like beach house you and Jungkook had built together. Your touch to the interior with his hard work on the exterior. He didn’t mind though, seeing your vision come to life made him happy.
You laid on your stomach on the soft sand just beyond your private deck, legs stretched out, toes sinking into the cool grains.
Dressed in his loose linen pants and an unbuttoned white shirt fluttering in the wind, Jungkook stood by the water’s edge, gazing at the horizon with a peaceful expression. His dark hair was tousled, strands falling into his eyes, and when he turned to look at you, a slow smile spread across his lips.
“You’re staring,” he teased, voice warm and teasing as he padded back toward you. Even though he was the one staring hard long before. He didn’t want to bother you though, wanted to give you your space. He didn’t mind though he loved admiring you when you didn’t notice.
“Can you blame me? You’re like… some Greek god walking out of the ocean.”
Jungkook laughed, low and soft, before dropping onto the sand beside you. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your cheek. “Then that makes you my goddess.”
You scoffed playfully but couldn’t stop the way your heart fluttered at his words. He always had a way of making you feel like the most cherished person in the world.
Suddenly, you felt a light smack on your butt, making you yelp in surprise. “Kook!” you fussed, twisting slightly to glare at him.
He grinned, unbothered, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You look like you need more sunscreen,” he said innocently, the smirk in his tone giving him away. “Want me to put some on for you?”
You didn’t need to turn your head to picture the smug grin on his face. With a little sigh, you relented. “Go ahead, Kook.”
Jungkook shifted, straddling the backs of your thighs as he settled comfortably on top of you. His warm hands smoothed sunscreen over your back, slow and deliberate, massaging it into your skin. But it wasn’t long before his hands drifted lower, slipping just under the edge of your bikini bottoms to gently caress the curve of your ass.
You let out a soft breath, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as his touch lingered. His hands roamed back up, gliding over your waist, then your shoulders. You couldn’t ignore the growing hardness pressing against you as he shifted slightly on your lower back. You could feel his bulge, heavy and undeniable, making your pulse quicken.
A quiet gasp escapes your lips. You bite your lower lip, your body instinctively arching ever so slightly beneath him.
A soft chuckle rumbled from him as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “You feel that, baby?” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You’re driving me crazy, just lying here like this.”
His lips grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, sending a shiver through you. You squirmed a little under him, half playful, half needy, your cheeks heating up. “Kook…” you warned softly, but there was no real protest in your voice.
He chuckled, the sound low and intimate, and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of your shoulder. His hands continued their slow exploration, gliding over your hips, smoothing up your waist, then slipping under the sides of your bikini top to skim the sides of your breasts, thumbs brushing teasingly along the sensitive skin there.
You whimpered softly, toes curling in the sand as you pressed your cheek into your folded arms, feeling yourself melt under his touch. His hips shifted again, the hard length of him unmistakable against you now, and when he let out a quiet, shaky breath, you knew he was just as worked up as you were.
“Turn over for me, baby,” Jungkook murmured, his voice rougher now, hunger simmering just beneath the surface.
You obeyed, rolling onto your back to face him, eyes wide and lips parted. His dark gaze swept over you slowly, hungrily - taking in the flushed look on your face, the curve of your body, the way your bikini barely covered anything.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, bending down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a kind of desperate sweetness, tongue sliding over yours, one hand cradling your face while the other trailed down your body, over your chest, your stomach, finally settling between your thighs.
You gasped softly into his mouth, hips arching toward his touch. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Think we should take this inside, or…” His thumb brushed teasingly along the edge of your bikini bottoms, eyes glinting with mischief. “…you want me to keep going right here?”
You barely had the breath to answer. Your pulse was racing, your skin prickling with anticipation as you gazed up at Jungkook. His dark eyes fixed on you, holding heat and affection all at once.
“Here,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly. “I want you here.”
That was all he needed to hear.
With a low groan, Jungkook leaned in, kissing you deeply, hungrily, his mouth moving over yours with a delicious urgency. His tongue slid against yours, teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip as his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer until there was barely an inch of space between you.
He pressed himself against you, hips grinding subtly. You could feel every hard inch of him through the thin fabric of his linen pants, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand slid down between your thighs, fingers slipping under your bikini bottoms, brushing softly against the wet fabric.
You let out a shaky gasp, hips bucking slightly, instinctively opening your legs for him.
Jungkook’s breath hitched, and he smiled against your lips. “So wet already,” he murmured, voice dark and thick with desire. “You want me that bad, baby?”
You whimpered, nodding, unable to form words as his fingers teased you with slow, gentle strokes that made your toes curl in the sand. His mouth moved down your neck, kissing and nibbling softly, until he reached the edge of your bikini top. Without warning, he pulled it aside, mouth closing around your nipple, tongue flicking and sucking until you were arching under him, a soft moan spilling from your lips.
“Jungkook,” you gasped, threading your fingers into his hair.
He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with need.
With a smooth, eager motion, he slipped your bikini bottoms down your legs, tossing them aside without a second thought. You reached down , tugging at the drawstring of his pants, and he quickly rid himself of them, leaving the both of you bare under the morning sun, the salty breeze cool against heated skin.
For a moment, he just looked at you. Eyes dark, chest rising and falling a little faster - like he was memorizing everything, burning the image of you into his mind. Then he was lowering himself over you, one hand braced in the sand beside your head, the other guiding himself to your entrance.
The morning sun warmed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat burning between you and Jungkook.
You whimpered softly as he kissed you - deep, consuming, his mouth claiming yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands were everywhere - sliding over your sides, cupping your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples until you gasped into his mouth. His thumb brushed your cheek tenderly, and the contrast between his soft touch and the raw need in his kiss made your heart ache.
He pulled back just slightly, dark eyes flicking over your face, a little breathless. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse with emotion. “Every time I look at you… I swear I fall harder.”
You felt a tight squeeze in your chest, your breath hitching, because no matter how many times Jungkook said things like that, it never stopped making you melt.
Your hands slid down his bare back, feeling the smooth, warm skin under your fingertips, the tension in his muscles as he hovered over you. You hooked your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him close, feeling the solid press of him, thick and hard, against your entrance.
“Please, Kook,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.
He groaned softly, kissing you again - slower this time, deeper, his tongue brushing yours, drawing out every tiny sound you made.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, filling you so perfectly you both let out shaky, breathless moans. Your hands slid up his back, nails lightly digging into his skin as he bottomed out, hips pressing flush against yours.
“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, dropping his forehead to yours, his breath warm and ragged. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good”
When he started to move, it was slow at first. Long, deep thrusts, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm. You clung to him, gasping softly with each movement, your nails raking lightly down his back, leaving faint red lines.
“Please…” you whimpered, arching your hips, needing more.
He let out a low, needy groan, his pace quickening as he buried himself deeper, harder. His hand slid under your thigh, lifting your leg to angle you just right, and the change made you cry out. Pleasure crashing through you, sharp and overwhelming.
He began to thrust. Ones that made your head spin, every roll of his hips sending pleasure sparking through your whole body. His mouth found yours again, kissing you fiercely as his pace picked up, the soft slap of skin on skin blending with the sound of waves crashing nearby.
“Is this what you wanted baby?”Jungkook murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.
You choke out a mumble and moan. “Use your words” he caresses your face.
His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pussy tightening around him as the tension coiled tighter and tighter. He felt it too, you could tell by the way his breath hitched, by the soft curses slipping past his lips as he drove into you harder, faster.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, moaning softly into his mouth as he hit just the right spot over and over.
His mouth was everywhere, kissing along your neck, biting gently at your collarbone, sucking at the sensitive skin just above your breast until you whimpered. His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts, and you felt yourself falling apart. Pleasure building so fast it left you breathless.
“I’m so close,” you gasped, clinging to him.
“Me too, baby,” Jungkook groaned, kissing you hard, his pace turning rougher, more frantic. “Come with me… I wanna feel you.”
Your body tightened, the coil inside you snapping as waves of pleasure rippled through you. Your cry muffled against his mouth as you clenched around him, trembling under the force of your orgasm. Jungkook followed with a shuddering moan, hips grinding deep as he came inside you, his arms wrapping around you tightly like he couldn’t bear to let you go.
For a long moment, the only sounds were your racing breaths, the soft crash of waves, the rustling breeze. Jungkook pressed his face into your neck, placing slow, tender kisses along your skin as he held you close.
“God, baby,” he whispered softly, voice rough but affectionate. “You’re everything to me.”
You smiled, stroking your fingers through his damp hair, heart swelling with love. “I love you, Kook.”
He lifted his head, brushing a gentle kiss to your lips, his smile a little lazy and dazed. “Round two inside?” he asked again, his tone light but the hungry look in his eyes made your stomach flip.
You laughed softly, cheeks flushed, and tugged at his hand. “Lead the way, Greek god.”
Jungkook grinned wide, pulling you up with him and wrapping you in his arms as he carried you back toward the house, whispering sweet nothings against your ear. His touch tender, but the fire in his eyes promising that once you were inside, the passion between you was far from over.
❀ Summary: In a world overrun by hybrids, after years of surviving alone in the wild, Y/N does everything she can to be reunited with her family -- whether they're dead or alive. One fateful night, everything goes to shit. Her only intel? Gone. Her freedom? Also gone.
❀ A/N: Finallyyyyy chapter 2 is here!!! I've given Taehyung quite a bit of screen time and I've tweaked it a little from the original version to give up some minor character details, hope you guys like it! <3 Also for those who have read Red hood and the seven wolves, I'm currently working on chapter 3 which should *hopefully* be out sometime next week!!!
Prev / Next
The pillows were soft, pliant under your touch as your body flipped from one side to the other, a small, content smile playing at your lips. The duvet engulfed your body like a silky cocoon, the cotton irresistibly warm as you allowed your eyes to stay closed for a little longer. You wanted to enjoy this sudden, yet welcome dream, even if it was for just a few more lasting moments.
Your mind was floating in a state of semi-consciousness, stuck between a rock and a hard place. You had so many things to do, yet so little time, and your body was refusing to cooperate.
With a long sigh, you cuddled further into the soft sheets. They carried the scent of lavender detergent and newness, as if someone had prepared them specially for you. The same as your mom used to. The warmth relaxed your muscles, urging you to remain in your blissful state until you were ready to emerge, ready and recharged for another gruelling day.
The rose-tinted dream was painfully shattered by the sudden leap of your heartbeat. Your eyes snapped open, wavering as a bright light hit them.
Body springing into a ninety-degree angle, head whipping around too fast for your sleep-dazed mind to begin to comprehend what’d just happened.
You were like a jack in the box triggered by a child, but the trigger was a door creaking instead.
The events of the night prior began rushing back; the cops, the wounds, the riverbank, the… The hybrid that drugged you. You were certain it was a hybrid. It caught you at your weakest, just when all your caution was thrown to the wind. Months of planning had been wasted in just a single evening, and now? Now you were stuck in some unknown place, all because you had foolishly allowed your emotions to take reign in the most dangerous scenario possible.
Squinting at the barrage of light that flooded in through the window, you wasted no time in scanning the space. You were in a rather… Spacious room. With a big fluffy bed and a dark wooden vanity table.
What the hell? Where the hell am I?
You threw the sheets to the side, cringing inwardly as the cool air hit your unexpecting body. The wooden floor was cold beneath your bare feet. Goosebumps erupted over the expanse of your body as you carefully stood up, attempting to make as little noise as possible.
Wherever you were, you weren’t safe. At least, not whilst there were hybrids lurking about.
You hated them. You hated their kind. They brought you nothing but pain and suffering. The only good hybrid was a dead one.
Your heartbeat stuttered, but it went unnoticed under the brewing hatred and fear in the pit of your stomach.
You had to get out.
In the corner of the room, adjacent to the bed, was an old-fashioned, velvet ruby armchair. Your bag and shoes were neatly placed on the cushion.
Inspecting the contents of your bag, you checked every single pocket, taking out multiple items before reaching a conclusion — your burner phone was gone.
Quietly, you zipped it back up and slung it over your shoulder, grasping your shoes in one hand as you stalked towards the door. It was slightly ajar, as if someone had been standing in it with just enough room to watch you — the thought alone made you shiver.
Holding your breath, you gently pulled the door open, a sense of calm washing over you as it didn’t creak or get stuck.
Wherever you were, you wanted out. If a hybrid was the one who took you, then you knew you wouldn’t be safe.
At some point in your lifetime, you held affection for them. That was long gone now, since the day their kind ripped and tore your life to shreds.
The hallway you entered was long and desolate. Multiple doors decorated it on each side, with a staircase residing just one door to your right, and a turn to the left. The silence was suspicious, your anxiety through the roof, with so many doors, silent rooms, the thought of some dangerous hybrid lurking in the shadows haunted the back of your mind.
As you moved forward, you kept a cautious eye on all directions, left, then right, then front and then left and right again until — one by one — you descended the stairs. You tightened your grip on your shoes, ready to swing them at anyone and everyone. If you went down, you’d make sure to put up a good fight first. Even if all you had for a weapon was a pair of dirty worn-down boots.
You cursed inwardly as an open doorway came into view — a living room with a perfect view of the staircase. You hoped nobody was there, and then cursed again as you realised – you’d have to walk past more rooms before you reached the front door; your only hope of an escape.
The house was light, with rays of sunshine flooding in from all directions. It was both great and awful – there was enough visibility to make it difficult for your enemy to hide, but the same applied to you. You felt naked. You didn’t know the territory; you had no place to hide if someone appeared right here and now.
With a shaky breath, you continued down, your blood pulsating in your ears. It seemed to be louder than the steps you were taking, creating a rhythm that you didn’t want to fall behind. The sooner you were out of here, the better.
As you finally reached the floor, you decided to take a careful peek into the living room. Coast clear.
You exhaled shakily.
Glancing to your left, you realised your escape would be much smoother than you previously thought 2 minutes ago. Your worries seemed to ease as you neared the exit, glancing left and right even as your trembling hand touched the door handle, a wave of relief washing over you as the dark hickory door opened with a smooth click. This was so much easier.
A small, uncertain smile graced your lips as your feet touched the concrete steps. They felt cold, slightly wet, as if it’d been raining earlier on. But you didn’t care as you placed your shoes down, quickly sliding your feet in before adjusting your backpack.
The air was heavy, an indication of more rain to come. The sky was crowded with grey but bright clouds, gathering to watch the easiest escape in the history of man. Maybe hybrids weren’t as smart as you gave them credit for-
“You’re awake.”
Shit.
The voice was deep, velvety, unfamiliar. It rumbled deeply through your body, scathing against your aching bones.
Slowly, carefully — you craned your neck, blood pulsating in your veins as the anticipation ate away at your stomach.
Soft almond eyes stared back at you.
One… Wrong… Move. And you were dead.
Your gut coiled as you watched a boxy smile bloom on his face. Was he mocking you? Definitely. The two of you knew who was at a higher disadvantage, and if that smile of his indicated anything, it was definitely that.
“Don’t be so scared now,” He paused, gaze flickering to your tightly coiled fists, then back to your face, “You’re safe.”
Time froze for a moment. Safe? Who did he take you for? A fool?
Though as you glared at his eyes, something deep inside you couldn’t help but want to almost… Believe him. This hybrid – he had kind eyes. You’ve seen eyes like that before, somewhere in a faraway memory.
Watching this hybrid evoked an emotion you hadn’t felt towards his kind in years.
Pity.
However as soon as you felt it, a different feeling was born in your chest. It pricked and it burned at your insides, like a thorn that remained stubbornly imbedded deep in your soul.
Then, going against your better judgement – in a selfish, stupid act of defiance – your gaze sharpened, the words, “Fuck you,” shooting from your lips like bullets. Before you could think better — you spat on the ground. Your legs followed, instinctually dashing for the thick forestry that surrounded the house.
Blood pounding, heart racing, the tension in your shoulders dissipated and the adrenaline pumped unforgivingly through your veins. You needed it now more than ever — that extra push.
Realising he was caught off guard, you bit back a smile as it took him time to register what just happened, his footsteps forming a faint rhythm only after you’d disappeared into the brush.
He called out, his voice bellowing and yet losing itself between trees as you put more and more distance between your bodies, your shoulders tensing as the baritone echoed around you.
You didn’t dare look back even as regret started chipping away at you, the skin on your arms sore and bruised as brush scraped relentlessly against it. You didn’t dare look back even as you stumbled, a staggering pain slicing right down the slope of your upper arm, momentarily distracting you.
You continued to push on. The wound could be taken care of once you’ve put enough of a distance between you and the hybrid and his house. Your first priority was to get away. To disappear. You didn’t know where you were — what that hybrid would do to you — and you weren’t keen to find out. Disappearing and concealing your tracks was the smartest thing to do now.
The idea of a hybrid trying to help you didn’t even cross your mind. They couldn’t. Each and every one of them hated humans, hated you.
You had spent years staying under the radar — learning to survive, pushing down the screams, muffling nightmare-fuelled sobs. You couldn’t let it all go to waste. Not now.
Not when you worked so hard to get to this point.
Not even as his eyes flashed in your mind – kind, worried, warm.
And really, you knew this chase could end in only one of two ways — dead or escaped.
Sticky, grimy sweat clung to your skin, seeping into the haggard material of your backpack. There was a trail of scent to follow, and you prayed. You prayed to whatever fucking deity was out there to make the rain come.
There were only two ways to truly stay hidden from a hybrid; never get close enough to one for them to smell you or escape in the rain.
Yet one thing kept putting your escape at risk. The pain of the cut on your arm grew into a burning wildfire, spreading to the very bones as more and more blood kept trickling. You had to stop — you had to tend to it.
But what if he catches me?
It doesn’t matter. He’s so far back it’ll take him hours.
Hesitantly, you craned your neck back, scanning the unfamiliar landscape with widened eyes.
There wasn’t a living soul in sight, besides you.
Did I lose him?
For the first time since you’d woken up, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.
The forestry had become denser, with more trees looming around, the canopy resembling a leafy blanket that blocked out majority of the sunlight. Thick bark sprung out from the ground in lazy — dangerous — scribbles, disrupting the flow of the earth, and yet blending in so perfectly that you couldn’t help but have a few near-trips in your fleeing.
Slowly, your body came to a stop, your movements heavy, cautious, as you tried to steady yourself.
With the dose of adrenaline still running high, you took a moment to look around, your exhausted mind trying to find some semblance of peace.
Everything within your vicinity looked the same; large thick trees, the earth blanketed by twigs and leaves and whatnot, weeds and tall grass growing sparsely all over the place.
Where the fuck am I?
Those hybrids could’ve taken you anywhere, and you’d be none the wiser. Maybe this was a hunting ground? Maybe they brought humans here, allowed them to think they had a chance of escaping, before ultimately catching and killing them.
They were toying with you. You knew it and yet — you fought so hard, desperately hanging onto a tiny sliver of hope.
“Fuck.” You hissed as the pain in your arm intensified. It wouldn’t be long before you had to keep moving again, but for now, you had to stop the bleeding.
Carefully, you made your way over to a tree, seeking any form of shelter in this desolate space.
There was a small hideout within it, similar to a tiny cave — large enough to fit you — with thick roots and tree bark rising from the ground and hugging it, as if wanting to hide this gaping hole in its very foundations.
Something stirred in your stomach as you eyed the giant.
It had grown into one of the tallest trees in the forest, its’ branches reaching out for the sky and the leaves soaking in the sun.
Deeming it a good enough hiding spot, you settled beneath the bark, grunting as you lowered yourself to the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The downpour was unforgiving as Taehyung pushed through thick brush. Hours had passed at this point, the human’s faint scent lingering on every green surface he could see, and yet he was no closer to finding her. She was really, truly gone. Blended in with the earth until there was nothing left but a faint souvenir of her scent. He really underestimated the little human. When he first saw her, she seemed so, so frail, as if the lightest touch would make her crumble. Yet the defiant way in which she looked at him, the speed at which she took off at, it screamed of fire. She was feisty, with a kick of cleverness as she used his momentary stupor against him. He was impressed.
“Shit!” He exclaimed, his stomach dropping to the floor as his foot slipped. The ground was slippery and muddy, and he thanked his lucky stars when he regained his balance. With a groan he realised his shoes were now some inches deep in the mud. A long sigh and a painful struggle later, he managed to free himself of the mud, his lips pulled into a deep frown. It would take him days to wash all of this off. And a very annoyed bear hybrid.
Pull yourself together, Taehyung. You need to find the girl. Preferably before the rain wipes away all traces of her.
With slow, careful steps, he made it his mission to be cautious. Gritting his teeth — his instincts took over. He didn’t need any more setbacks.
Arms pushing branches and brush out of his way, legs vigilant and eyes attentive to his surroundings, the tiger hybrid soon found himself being rewarded for his efforts, in the form of a dried blotch of red pigment smeared on a fallen leaf.
“Bingo.”
He crouched down, delicately inspecting the leaf. The blood had dried long ago, painting over the green with a bitter stamp. Eyeing it, he brought the leaf up to his nose — sniffing, lightly — it belonged to her. The girl. He did his best to pocket the scent away into his mind, likewise stuffing the plant into his trouser pocket. Now equipped with the fresh scent, he felt more in tune with himself, more attentive. His instincts were sharper, clearer.
Inhaling deeply, he realised her scent was much stronger than he previously realised — it surrounded him, engulfed him. Although it was scattered all around him, Taehyung soon realised it concentrated in a singular direction. His thoughts were proven true when he began to notice a bloody trail of a singular footstep, albeit faint, he was sure he was on the right track — he’d find her in no time.
His steps were steady, grounded, confident as he began to move with purpose. The rain was thrumming against the earth, and the evening was growing darker with each passing minute. Jeongguk would be arriving home any minute now, and Taehyung almost feared the reaction the panther would have.
Confusion still lingered in his mind at his friends’ sudden change in attitude — Jeongguk was known for despising humans with a passion, so what’s changed?
He shook his head, as if to rid his head of thoughts, a shiver running down his spine. The hairs on his body stood on ends as he felt a sudden buzz in the air. Thunder. A long, disorientating flash of white. It crackled across the sky and the earth just as he stopped in his steps, his breath short and quick, the glow illuminating the forest floor just long enough for him to see it — to see her. Laying within the confines of a hollow tree, body tucked in on itself as if to ward off the cold; unsuccessfully. He could see her shivering from afar.
His lips twisted into a frown, stomach coiling. Taehyung blamed himself. He knew she was scared — for fucks sake, she was terrified — he knew it, he heard it the moment she woke up. The change in the soft flutter of her heartbeat to a rapid, relentless racing. Instead of checking on her, instead of being careful, he threw all caution to the wind and now she wound up like this — passed out in the middle of nowhere with rain pissing down on her.
Stupid, stupid tiger.
He’d get her home safe and sound.
Another strike of lightning, and he was there, by her side. The thunderstorm rumbled groggily above them, signifying that it was only getting started.
Her skin was ice, clothes soaked, droplets sat upon her face — cold and lifeless.
He was to blame.
Barely containing a growl, Taehyung tried to focus on her — ignoring the noisy rain, the bone-chilling thunder, the calm amongst the storm as the forest thrummed with life around them.
Placing her bag over his shoulders, he hoisted her up into his arms, guilt tightening his throat with an invisible grip as he noticed the carefully wrapped gauze on her arm.
Relief washed over him though, as through the downpour and the static in the air, he could hear her gentle signs of life — the way her hands sought out his warmth, the shallow movement of her chest with every breath, and the vibration of her chattering teeth.
His legs moved in long, hurried strides before he knew it, falling into a flawless rhythm as the storm raged on above the two of them, his mind shunning away the flips in his stomach as his grip on the human tightened, just a tad more.
~~~~~~~~~
A flash. Blinding. Electrifying. A warning. It illuminated the room, painting the faces of the homes’ inhabitants a ghostly white.
Thunder rumbled, tremors shaking the forest, each vibration broke and tethered, piling on top of one another in crushing waves.
His ears rang. His hands curled into fists, nails gnawing at the tender skin of his palms. A wave of icy realisation washed over him, freezing everything in its wake and leaving behind only the scorching heat of hypothermia.
“She what?” He repeated, struggling to contain the irritated growl in his voice.
“She ran away, Kook.”
The room was swallowed in a deafening silence as the youngest hybrid numbly processed the words.
“How?” His voice was steel, his expression unreadable — yet his body an open book. Teeth grit together, jaw locked, posture tense — as if he’d been tased. His shoulders tensed, more so than he thought possible, as someone laid a warm hand on his shoulder, seeking to comfort him.
“We don’t know yet,” Jimin paused, tilting his head to gain a clearer view of Jeongguk’s expression. “That’s all he said. And hours have gone by since.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper — scared that even the harshest note would make his friend crumble.
A long silence filled the room once again, as all six men lingered about the room — the gravity of the situation pulling them down.
“Maybe it’s for the best.” Yoongi spoke, indifference seeping through his tone.
Jeongguk’s head turned to him instantly, the panther almost suffering whiplash as he eyed his friend.
His lips parted, ready to spit out words he’d come to regret when—
Another strike of lightning flashed, illuminating the room like a cheap effect in a slasher film. The deep grumble of thunder followed shortly after, masking the sharp inhale Jeongguk took. He almost found himself thanking for the weathers’ timing.
“Don’t say that, hyung.” Jimin retorted, a disapproving grimace playing along his lips. The snow leopard shrugged his shoulders, turning his head to stare through the window. His ears twitched every so often, as if predicting the next lightning strike.
Jeongguk bit at his lip, his feet taking up a slow pace around the living room. The gears in his brain spun, turning in sync as different ideas merged and moulded together until one emerged victorious, cutting like a finely refined sword through the thick tension.
“I’m gonna go look for them.”
He was out of the door before anybody could protest. Slinging his leather jacket over his shoulders, Jeongguk’s mind could only focus on one thing — finding the human. His human.
His boots crunched against the wet gravel, his ears twitching with every droplet of rain that fell upon his head, Jimin’s shouts of his name fading within the background. The air was heavy with petrichor, the scent of fresh grass and — and something buzzing — something comforting, easing his nerves.
He ignored the shouts of his hyungs, hands stuffed into his pockets, boots marching off towards the tree line.
He couldn’t let the human escape. He had so much to say to her, so much to ask, so much he wanted to— no. He couldn’t.
His mind still felt hazy, ecstatic with the idea that he even managed to find her.
A firm grip had just barely scraped Jeongguk’s shoulder when the two of them came to a sudden halt, their feet seemingly stuck in the mud. A sound.
Mouths agape, the two men squinted their eyes, trying to distinguish any sort of shape amongst the tree line. The forest loomed over them, trees forming a brick wall of pitch black as the night settled deeper and deeper into the sky, draining the earth of life. Rain spattered across the ground unforgivingly, yet amidst it all, a figure finally emerged. At first, it was just a blotch of white. It swayed and sputtered against the wall of trees, as if fighting just to keep on moving.
It was then that it hit him — her scent. It was faint, muted under the smell of rainwater and grass and something else, something metallic, but it was there.
Jeongguk dashed into a sprint. It was like his body knew, long before his mind did. His heart thrashed against his ribcage, anxiety clutching at his stomach with a flaming, iron fist. He couldn’t remember a time where he felt this awful. There was a first for everything, he guessed.
The tiger hybrid was panting, chest heaving up and down. His grip on the human tightened as a tall figure approached.
“How is she?” Jeongguk’s voice came out in a worried whisper, breathy and strained as he eyed her body. He could feel her fever through the tips of his fingers, when his hands ghosted over the skin on her arm, brows furrowing at the sight of a cloth wrapped tightly around her arm. Deep stains ran through it, Jeongguk squinting his eyes at it as the iron smell seemed to amplify around the cloth.
“Is she bleeding?” His tone was accusatory, confusion painting his features as Taehyung blatantly ignored his question, his eyes searching for something — someone — over Jeongguk’s shoulders.
“She needs Hoseok-hyung.” He gasped out. His voice was winded, chest tight and burning, and Jeongguk knew his hyung had been running this whole entire time, had given it his all. An inkling of gratitude bloomed in his stomach — not long enough for it to be acknowledged.
He didn’t even notice how drenched his hyung was, at least not until he barged past the panther, his previously white shirt now a see-through colour.
His mind became numb to everything around him as Jeongguk turned, following the tiger hybrid. He felt the humans’ fever. She was burning up, a mixture of sweat and rain cascading down her twisted features. Even when asleep, her body showed signs of distress.
He needed to help her, to make her feel better. He nearly missed the concerned voice of Hoseok, the dog hybrid’s gaze hardening as it narrowed in on the human. The last thing he wanted was to help her. Yet his heart faltered the moment he saw the look on Taehyung’s face, desperation dwindling in his eyes.
A faint growl rumbled from his chest – one that showed both his discomfort, and his resignation. He would help her, but only this one time. “Bring her inside.”
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hospital AU, One-shot, Mentions of Death
Summary: For seventy-three nights, Yoongi wakes at exactly 3:17 a.m., knowing the pain will soon pull you from sleep. In the quiet confines of a hospital room, the two of you build a routine of gentle conversations, shared laughter, and unwavering love—until one night, 3:17 arrives, and only one of you wakes up.
Word Count: 6.7K
The first few nights, Yoongi believed it was coincidence.
Hospitals never truly slept. Monitors hummed behind closed doors, wheels from passing carts whispered against polished floors, and distant conversations drifted through the hallway until they dissolved into silence. He assumed one of those sounds had pulled him awake every night, yet his eyes always found the same blue numbers glowing from the clock mounted above the door.
3:17 a.m.
By the tenth night, he stopped questioning it.
By the twentieth, the nurses stopped questioning it too.
Room 712 had become familiar territory for everyone on the overnight shift, and so had the man who refused to leave the chair beside your bed. His black hoodie remained draped over the backrest no matter how many times the nurses offered him a proper blanket, and the untouched cup of vending machine coffee beside him inevitably turned cold before sunrise because his attention never wandered far enough to remember drinking it.
You stirred before your eyes opened, your fingers twitching weakly against the white hospital sheets. The smallest crease appeared between your brows, the first warning that the pain was returning, and Yoongi reached for your hand almost instinctively. His thumb traced slow circles across the back of your skin. The tension in your shoulders loosened by a fraction.
"I'm awake," you whispered, your voice barely louder than the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.
"I noticed."
Even after weeks of sleeping in an uncomfortable chair, his tone carried the same dry humor that always managed to coax a smile from you. He shifted forward until his elbows rested on the mattress, studying your face with quiet concentration, as if memorizing every eyelash and every faint shadow beneath your eyes could somehow stop time from moving.
"You look terrible."
A breath of laughter escaped you, thin but genuine. "So do you."
He glanced toward the dark window and shrugged one shoulder. "I've seen worse."
"You looked better yesterday."
"I looked better three months ago."
You rolled your eyes, though the movement exhausted you enough to leave you staring at the ceiling afterward. The silence that settled between you wasn't uncomfortable. It had become another routine, another familiar part of these endless nights spent measuring time through medication schedules and changing IV bags instead of sunsets and dinners at home.
A gentle knock broke the stillness before one of the nurses stepped inside carrying another syringe. She smiled the moment she noticed Yoongi already awake. "I was going to wake you."
"You would've been late."
She shook her head while checking your chart, completely unsurprised. "I swear you have an alarm nobody else can hear."
Yoongi only reached for the blanket that had slipped from your shoulder and tucked it back into place with careful hands. "Maybe she snores."
You nudged his arm with the little strength you had left. "I don't snore."
"You absolutely do."
The nurse hid a laugh behind her clipboard while replacing the empty IV bag. "I'll bring another warm blanket."
Yoongi nodded without looking away from you. "And hot chocolate."
"You ask for that every night."
"You bring it every night."
"You never drink it."
"I like having options."
The nurse disappeared into the hallway still smiling.
You watched the doorway until it closed before turning back toward him. "They all know you now."
"They tolerate me."
"They like you."
"They pity me." The answer arrived so quietly that it almost vanished beneath the monitor's steady beeping.
You squeezed his fingers. "They don't."
For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer. Instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear with practiced familiarity. The motion had become as natural as breathing, something he repeated dozens of times a day without realizing it because illness had a habit of making ordinary acts of affection feel impossibly precious. Outside, rain tapped softly against the window.
"I saw a cat earlier," he murmured after a while.
You shifted your attention toward him. "The orange one?"
He nodded. "The security guard finally fed it."
"I told you someone would."
"It ignored him."
"It likes you better."
"It likes free food."
You smiled again, smaller this time, your eyelids growing heavier as exhaustion settled over you. "Did you feed it?"
"It stole half my sandwich."
"So you did."
"I was robbed."
Another quiet laugh slipped between you before fading into comfortable silence.
The clock above the door ticked forward.
3:18
3:19
3:20
Your breathing gradually evened out beneath the soft hiss of oxygen flowing through the tubing. Yoongi kept tracing slow circles over the back of your hand long after you had fallen asleep, unwilling to move because every night followed the same fragile pattern. Pain arrived at 3:17, conversation carried you both to 3:20, and sleep borrowed a few peaceful hours before morning arrived.
He had started believing the ritual would always save you. The thought settled somewhere deep inside him, stubborn and hopeful, refusing to acknowledge the doctors who spoke in careful voices or the sympathetic smiles that lingered a little too long.
As long as 3:17 ended like this—with your hand in his and your breathing steady against the silence—he could pretend there would always be another night.
Morning arrived in fragments instead of sunlight. Pale streaks slipped through the narrow gap in the curtains, painting soft lines across the hospital floor while nurses traded shifts outside the room, their hushed voices blending with the distant rattle of breakfast carts.
Yoongi had fallen asleep with his cheek resting against the edge of your mattress, one hand still wrapped around yours. His neck protested the awkward position the moment he stirred, but the familiar ache barely registered. He lifted his head first to look at you instead of the clock, instinctively searching for the slow rise and fall of your chest before allowing himself to blink the exhaustion from his eyes.
Your eyes fluttered open a few seconds later. "You look worse than yesterday."
A quiet snort escaped him as he rubbed at the crease between his eyebrows. "I've been informed that's becoming your favorite hobby."
"You should sleep."
"I am sleeping."
"In a chair."
"It's a very expensive chair."
You let out the faintest laugh, the sound rough from days of medication and endless interruptions. Even weakened by illness, you still laughed the same way you always had—small at first, then with enough warmth to soften the guarded expression Yoongi carried everywhere else.
The doctor arrived just before noon. White coats, clipped explanations, carefully chosen words that never sounded frightening enough until they settled into the silence afterward. Yoongi stood beside the window with his arms folded across his chest, staring outside while percentages and treatment plans drifted through the room like another language.
He caught only pieces. Stable. Continue monitoring. Pain management. Comfort. The last word lodged itself somewhere behind his ribs.
After the doctor left, you watched Yoongi study the parking lot three floors below as though every answer he needed might be hidden between rows of parked cars. His shoulders had always carried tension differently from everyone else. He didn't pace or raise his voice. He simply became quieter until silence did all the talking for him.
"You don't have to stay every minute."
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie without turning around. "I know."
"You could go home."
"I know."
"You could shower."
"I know."
You smiled. "You smell like vending machine coffee."
That finally pulled him away from the window. "I smell like dedication."
"You smell terrible."
"I'll put that on a T-shirt." The corners of his mouth lifted just enough to convince you he was trying.
Lunch arrived untouched.
The soup cooled beside your bed while Yoongi picked at a sandwich the nurse had practically forced into his hands. Every few bites, his eyes drifted toward you, checking that you were still comfortable, still breathing evenly, still there. It was a habit he never noticed.
But the nurses surely noticed. One of them paused in the doorway while updating your chart and caught another quietly watching the two of you.
"He looks every thirty seconds."
The older nurse followed her gaze. "Twenty."
"You counted?"
"I've been on this floor for fifteen years." She lowered her voice. "The ones who stop looking are the ones who already know." Neither of them finished the thought.
Evening settled over the city with gentle rain tapping against the windows. The sky darkened until the glass reflected the room instead of the buildings outside, leaving only the two of you suspended in a world made of fluorescent lights and steady heartbeats.
Yoongi reached into his backpack and pulled out a small paper bag.
You tilted your head. "What's that?"
He unfolded the top and produced a tiny plastic container. "Convenience store pudding."
Your eyes widened with genuine excitement. "The caramel one?"
"They were sold out."
"I don't love you anymore."
"I bought the vanilla."
"I'll think about forgiving you."
He peeled the lid back and scooped a small spoonful before holding it toward you. Your hands trembled too much to manage the spoon yourself, so he waited patiently until you swallowed, brushing away the smallest smear from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. Neither of you acknowledged how natural the gesture had become. The pudding disappeared one careful bite at a time while rain continued its quiet rhythm outside.
"I miss home." The words slipped out so softly that Yoongi almost thought he'd imagined them.
He set the empty container on the bedside table. "What do you miss?"
"The couch."
"You always complained about the couch."
"I miss complaining about it."
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "The neighbor's dog?"
"It barks too much."
"The old elevator?"
"It gets stuck."
"The dishes you keep leaving in the sink?"
"They're soaking."
"They've been soaking for two weeks."
"They're marinating."
You watched the amusement reach his eyes for the first time all day and committed the image to memory.
"I miss ordinary things." The smile faded, replaced by something quieter.
Yoongi reached for your hand again, threading his fingers through yours with practiced familiarity. "We'll go home."
You looked at him for a long moment. Not because you doubted him but because you wanted to believe him as much as he believed himself.
The digital clock above the door continued counting forward.
11:48 p.m.
12:31 a.m.
1:56 a.m.
The hospital settled into its familiar midnight hush. Nurses dimmed the hallway lights, visitors disappeared, and rain surrendered to the stillness that only existed in the hours before dawn.
Yoongi refused another blanket, ignored the untouched coffee cooling beside him, and leaned his head against the mattress while your breathing lulled him into a shallow sleep. Somewhere beneath exhaustion, his body had learned its own ritual.
Long before his mind woke, before his eyes opened, before consciousness returned, something inside him always reached for the same moment. Three seventeen. Every night. Without fail.
A sharp inhale pulled Yoongi from sleep before any machine had the chance to protest. His eyes opened into darkness, instinct carrying him upright in the narrow chair before his thoughts caught up. The digital clock above the door glowed faintly against the dim room, its blue numbers washing the walls in an almost ghostly light.
3:17 a.m.
You hadn't called his name. You hadn't moved. Even so, the familiar crease had returned between your brows, the one that always appeared seconds before the pain settled into your bones. Your fingers tightened weakly around the blanket instead of his hand, as if you were trying to hold yourself together without disturbing him.
Yoongi reached across the mattress before you could say anything. His palm covered yours with practiced certainty, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin until your grip loosened. The motion had become so instinctive that he no longer remembered learning it. Somewhere between the endless nights and endless medications, his hands had simply memorized the language of comforting you.
"You cheated," you murmured, your voice rough with sleep.
One eyebrow lifted. "How?"
"You woke up before me."
"I have a reputation to maintain."
The corner of your mouth curved despite the discomfort pulling at your features. "You really think the nurses are impressed by this?"
"They definitely have a leaderboard."
"For what?"
He tilted his head toward the hallway. "Boyfriends who survive entirely on vending machine coffee."
"You'd win."
"I've been training."
Your laugh barely reached the room before exhaustion stole the sound away, but it was enough to soften the tension lingering in your shoulders.
Silence settled again, carrying the steady rhythm of the monitor and the distant squeak of rubber soles against polished floors. Rain had disappeared sometime after midnight, leaving the city wrapped in the muted glow of streetlights that spilled through the window and painted pale shapes across the blanket covering your legs.
You stared toward the ceiling for a long moment. "Do you remember the first time we met?"
Yoongi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned farther into the chair until his forearms rested beside your pillow, studying your face with the quiet concentration that always appeared whenever he thought something mattered enough to deserve precision. "You spilled coffee on my laptop."
"It was your fault."
"You walked into me."
"You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk."
"I was reading."
"You were impossible."
"I still am."
"You definitely still are." Another fragile smile found its way onto your face. "I thought you hated me."
"I almost did." His other arm reached for your intertwined hands.
"Almost?"
"You bought me another coffee."
"I felt guilty."
"You bought me another one the next day."
"I still felt guilty."
"The next day too."
"I was making sure you forgave me."
His gaze drifted to your intertwined hands. "I never stopped showing up after that."
Neither of you spoke for several seconds. There was no need.
The memories filled the room more completely than words could. You remembered tiny apartments cluttered with music equipment and half-finished lyrics scribbled across napkins. You remembered grocery shopping at midnight because Yoongi always forgot to eat until hunger became impossible to ignore. You remembered falling asleep on the couch while he worked, waking hours later with a blanket draped over you even though he insisted he wasn't the affectionate type.
"I miss your studio."
His thumb paused for the briefest moment before continuing its slow circles. "It's dusty."
"It always smelled like coffee."
"It smelled like old speakers."
"And coffee."
"And old speakers."
You closed your eyes, letting the image settle behind your eyelids. "I miss listening to you work."
"I'll play something when we get home."
"You never let anyone hear unfinished songs."
"You aren't anyone." The answer arrived so naturally that it carried none of the self-consciousness people often wrapped around confessions. It was simply a fact.
You opened your eyes again and found him already watching you. "What if I forget?" The question hung between you with surprising weight.
His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. "You won't."
"What if I forget the songs?"
"I'll play them again."
"What if I forget our apartment?"
"I'll show you every room."
"What if I forget you?”
For the first time that night, Yoongi looked away. His gaze settled on the window, on the reflection of the two of you suspended against the darkness outside, and he remained there until he trusted his voice again.
"Then I'll introduce myself." You watched the muscles in his jaw tighten before he turned back toward you. "I'll tell you we met because you ruined an expensive laptop."
A weak laugh escaped you. "You'll exaggerate."
"I absolutely will."
"And I'll buy you coffee?"
"You'll owe me at least three."
The laugh faded, replaced by quiet breathing and the steady pulse echoing through the room.
You squeezed his hand with what little strength remained. "I think..." Your voice trailed away. Yoongi leaned closer, catching every syllable. "I think I'd still fall for you."
Something fragile crossed his expression, so fleeting that anyone else might have missed it. His lips parted as though he wanted to answer, but emotion crowded every sentence before it reached his tongue. Instead, he lifted your hand and pressed his forehead gently against your knuckles. The gesture carried more honesty than words ever could.
Outside, somewhere beyond the hospital walls, the first birds began greeting a dawn that neither of you could see. Inside Room 712, the clock quietly advanced from 3:17 to 3:18, and for one more night, the ritual held.
Morning arrived with clear skies for the first time in nearly a week, washing the hospital room in soft gold instead of the muted gray that had become so familiar. Sunlight settled across your blanket and warmed your face just enough that Yoongi reached for the curtain, hesitated, and left it open after deciding you looked better with light on your skin.
A nurse stepped inside balancing two paper cups and a clipboard against her hip. "I brought actual coffee today."
Yoongi accepted the cup with a nod before peering inside. "So this is what generosity looks like."
"It means I got tired of watching you drink whatever comes out of the vending machine."
"I was building immunity."
She rolled her eyes and shifted her attention toward your chart, but her smile faltered for the smallest moment when she compared yesterday's notes to this morning's numbers. The pause lasted less than a second before she tucked the clipboard against her side again, yet Yoongi caught it anyway, his fingers tightening around the paper cup until the lid crinkled beneath his grip.
You noticed too. The room had taught you how to read people long before the monitors or medications ever could. Doctors slowed their steps before difficult conversations, nurses smiled a little brighter on hard mornings, and visitors laughed louder whenever they were trying not to cry.
"I'm okay." The reassurance escaped your lips automatically.
Yoongi looked at you instead of the nurse. "I know." The words landed with enough certainty that even you almost believed them.
The nurse adjusted your IV line, checked your temperature, and lingered beside the bed for another moment. "Physical therapy is stopping by after lunch."
You groaned into the pillow. "I'd rather fight a bear."
"You said that yesterday."
"My opinion hasn't improved."
Yoongi folded his arms across his chest. "I'll cheer for the bear."
"You always take the wrong side."
"I take the entertaining side."
The nurse laughed quietly before slipping out into the hallway, leaving behind the faint scent of hand sanitizer and fresh coffee.
For a while, neither of you spoke. Cars crawled through the streets below, tiny from the seventh-floor window, their movements slow enough to make the outside world feel impossibly distant. Somewhere downstairs, a child laughed, the sound carrying upward through an open courtyard before disappearing beneath the steady hum of hospital air conditioning.
"I had a dream."
Yoongi shifted his chair closer. "Good or bad?"
"I couldn't tell." You watched the sunlight creep across the blanket as though the answer might be hidden there. "We were home."
His shoulders relaxed. "You kept leaving your guitar in the hallway."
"I do that."
"I almost tripped over it."
"Also accurate."
"You were making coffee."
"I'm sensing a pattern."
"And I couldn't remember why we owned seven mugs when there are only two of us."
A quiet smile touched his face. "You keep buying them because you think they're cute."
"They are cute."
"They all say the same thing."
You frowned. "They don't."
"They literally all say 'World's Best Coffee.'"
"They have different fonts."
He let out a soft breath that almost resembled a laugh, and for a fleeting second the hospital room disappeared, replaced by your tiny apartment where mismatched mugs crowded every cabinet and music drifted between unfinished laundry piles.
Then the smile left your face. "I woke up before we got home."
The silence that followed carried a different weight than usual. Yoongi reached for your hand without looking away from you, his thumb finding the familiar path across your skin. "We'll get there."
You searched his expression, looking for the slightest crack. The stubborn hope remained exactly where it always had, anchored behind tired eyes and sleepless nights. He wore it the way other people wore armor, refusing to remove it even when the weight of it bent his shoulders lower every day.
After lunch, physical therapy arrived exactly on schedule. A cheerful therapist wheeled in a walker and greeted you with enough enthusiasm to brighten the room, but simply sitting on the edge of the bed drained the color from your face. Your fingers clung to the mattress while Yoongi stood close enough that your elbow brushed against his sleeve.
"You've got this." Yoongi restrained himself from helping you up because he knew you’ll just swat his hands away. "I hate encouraging people."
"You hate everyone." You laugh under your breath.
"I tolerate a select few."
"Am I included?"
He pretended to consider the question. "The jury's still out."
You pushed yourself upright anyway. Your knees trembled before your feet even touched the floor, the effort pulling uneven breaths from your chest. Yoongi instinctively extended a hand, but you shook your head and steadied yourself against the walker instead, determination flickering behind the exhaustion.
One step, then another. The therapist offered quiet praise while measuring distance in feet and progress in tiny victories, but Yoongi measured something else entirely. He counted every breath that hitched, every moment your grip tightened until your knuckles lost their color, every smile you forced whenever someone looked at you.
Halfway across the room, you stopped. Not because you wanted to but because your body had already decided.
Your shoulders sagged, and before anyone could react, Yoongi moved beside you, sliding one arm around your waist with practiced familiarity. "I've got you."
You leaned into him without protest. For a heartbeat, neither of you cared that the therapist politely looked away or that a nurse paused in the doorway pretending to organize paperwork. The world shrank until it contained only your uneven breathing and the steady rhythm of Yoongi's heartbeat beneath your temple.
"I'm heavier than I used to be."
He adjusted his grip. "You've always been difficult."
"I was trying to be sentimental."
"I'm trying to keep you from falling."
The smallest laugh escaped you, carrying equal parts exhaustion and affection. When he helped you back into bed, your eyes drifted closed almost immediately. Within minutes, sleep claimed you.
Yoongi remained in the chair beside the mattress, watching sunlight slide across the floor until it reached his shoes. His coffee sat untouched on the windowsill, now completely cold, while the clock above the door continued its patient march toward another night.
Another 3:17. Another promise that he would wake before the pain did. Another promise he intended to keep, no matter how impossible it was becoming.
Yoongi woke before the clock. The habit had rooted itself so deeply into his body that exhaustion no longer mattered. His eyes opened into the dim hospital room, instinct already reaching for you before consciousness fully returned, and his fingers found the warmth of your hand resting above the blanket.
The room was unusually still. No restless shifting beneath the sheets. No quiet inhale that caught halfway through your chest. No whispered complaint about the ache in your shoulders or the stiffness in your neck. Only the soft mechanical rhythm that had accompanied every night for weeks.
His gaze drifted toward the clock.
3:16 a.m.
The smallest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You finally gave me a head start."
The joke slipped into the darkness, expecting the familiar pause before you rolled your eyes and accused him of turning everything into a competition. Instead, the room offered nothing back except the muted hum of fluorescent lights beyond the closed door.
He looked at you again. Your face had relaxed in a way he hadn't seen for months, every line of discomfort erased from your features until you looked impossibly peaceful. The crease that always appeared between your brows during the early hours had disappeared, leaving only the quiet expression of someone enjoying uninterrupted sleep.
Yoongi loosened his grip on your hand and brushed a strand of hair away from your forehead. "You've got five seconds before I claim victory."
Silence. He counted anyway. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
"I win." Nothing.
The smile lingered for another heartbeat before uncertainty settled beneath it. His thumb resumed its slow circles across the back of your hand, repeating the motion that had soothed you through every difficult night. He waited for the tiny squeeze that always followed, for your fingers to curl weakly around his, for the almost imperceptible sign that you were still there with him. Your hand remained still.
The digital clock clicked forward.
3:17 a.m.
Yoongi leaned closer until his forearms rested against the mattress. "Hey." His voice stayed low, careful not to disturb you. "It's time."
No answer.
Outside the room, rubber soles whispered against polished floors before fading into the distance. Somewhere farther down the hallway, a monitor chimed twice before a nurse silenced it, and the familiar sounds of the hospital continued without noticing that something inside Room 712 had shifted.
He reached for the call button, then stopped. You had slept through medication checks before. You had slept through blood pressure readings. Once, after an especially exhausting day, you had slept through Jin's painfully loud video call, only waking when Yoongi threatened to answer it himself. This could be that. It had to be.
"You always complain when I wake you up." His fingers tightened around yours. "So I'm giving you another minute."
He settled back into the chair, never releasing your hand, and watched the rise and fall of your chest. One breath. Another. The movement was so faint that he almost convinced himself he had seen it.
The clock changed again.
3:18 a.m.
A quiet knock interrupted the silence before the overnight nurse stepped inside carrying another folded blanket. She paused the moment her eyes landed on the two of you. "You're awake already."
Yoongi nodded toward the untouched blanket. "She's winning today."
The nurse smiled automatically, expecting the usual exchange that had become part of her shift. She crossed the room and reached for your chart, but her attention drifted to the monitor almost immediately. The smile disappeared. She stepped closer then closer still. Her fingers found your wrist with practiced precision while her eyes searched your face.
Yoongi watched her, confusion knitting his brows together. "She's just sleeping."
The nurse didn't answer. Instead, she pressed the call button on the wall, her movements calm but impossibly quick.
Within seconds, footsteps echoed through the hallway. Another nurse entered then another. The room filled with quiet urgency. Someone gently guided Yoongi's chair backward. He didn't move.
"I'm staying."
A doctor arrived still fastening the sleeves of his white coat, his expression composed in the way only years of practice could produce. He checked your pulse, listened for a heartbeat, adjusted a sensor, and exchanged a look with the nurses that lasted less than a second but seemed to stretch across an eternity.
Yoongi barely noticed any of it. He kept talking instead. "You skipped physical therapy yesterday."
His thumb continued tracing slow circles over your hand. "They're going to think you're avoiding them."
No one interrupted him.
"They'll make you walk twice as far." His eyes never left your face. "And you still owe me caramel pudding because vanilla was a terrible compromise."
The doctor lowered his stethoscope. The nurses gradually stepped away from the bed, each movement slower than the last.
Someone rested a hand against Yoongi's shoulder. He shrugged it off without looking.
"You promised we'd go home." The words escaped in a voice so quiet they almost disappeared beneath the steady, unbroken tone that had quietly replaced the familiar rhythm of the monitor.
He stared at your face, waiting for the tiny laugh that always followed whenever he became too serious. Waiting for your fingers to squeeze his hand. Waiting for 3:17 to end the way it always had. But for the first time in seventy-four nights, the pain never came, and neither did you.
The room never became chaotic. No one shouted instructions across the bed or rushed equipment through the doorway, because there was nothing left to fix. The nurses exchanged brief glances that carried years of experience, the doctor lowered his eyes toward the chart instead of the monitor, and the steady tone that filled Room 712 continued with quiet indifference, stretching into every corner until it became impossible to tell where the sound ended and the silence began.
Yoongi remained exactly where he was. His hand still covered yours, his thumb still tracing slow circles over your skin with the same measured rhythm he had repeated every night for weeks. The movement had become muscle memory long ago, existing independently of thought, and he couldn't stop even when the warmth beneath his fingertips had already begun to fade.
A nurse crouched beside him. She had been the one bringing him hot chocolate every night, the one who always laughed when he complained about vending machine coffee, the one who pretended not to notice that he never drank either. "Yoongi."
He didn't look at her. "You forgot the blanket."
Her hand paused halfway toward his shoulder. "It's right here."
He glanced at the folded fabric resting over her arm and gave a small nod, as though she had simply arrived a few minutes later than usual. "She gets cold around this time."
The nurse swallowed against the tightness in her throat before unfolding the blanket with careful hands. Together, without exchanging another word, they draped it over you exactly the way they always did, smoothing the edges near your shoulders and tucking the corners beneath your arms.
For one impossible moment, it almost looked like another ordinary night. The doctor stepped forward after giving them enough time to breathe. "I am so sorry."
Yoongi stared at the clock instead. The blue numbers continued shining above the door.
3:23 a.m.
"You don't understand." His voice remained steady, almost conversational, the same tone he used when correcting someone's coffee order or reminding you to take your medication. "She always falls asleep after the pain passes."
No one interrupted him.
"If we wait another few minutes, she'll wake up and complain that my hand is too cold." His thumb continued its slow circles. "And she'll ask what time it is."
The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before speaking again, but the words never reached Yoongi. They dissolved somewhere between the monitor and the window, lost beneath memories that crowded his thoughts with relentless clarity.
You, laughing because he had burned toast. You, stealing his hoodie even in the middle of summer. You, insisting that seven identical coffee mugs counted as interior design. You, whispering at exactly 3:17 every single night, "You're awake."
A vibration against his thigh pulled him back. His phone. The screen glowed with an incoming video call. Namjoon.Yoongi stared at the name until it disappeared.
A second later, another notification arrived.
Jin: Did you both survive the terrible hospital breakfast?
Then another.
Hobi: Tell Y/N I found the blanket she wanted.
The messages continued appearing one after another, piling across the screen while the room remained perfectly still. Yoongi locked the phone without answering. He knew that once he replied, the world outside Room 712 would learn what had happened.
As long as he stayed silent, time hadn't moved yet. As long as he stayed silent, somewhere beyond sunrise there still existed a version of today where you would wake up hungry and complain about pudding flavors.
The nurse quietly slipped the phone into the pocket of his hoodie when it buzzed again. This time she didn't look at the screen. She simply rested a hand against his shoulder.
Yoongi finally turned toward her. For the first time since 3:17, his expression cracked. Not dramatically. Not with sobs or desperate pleas. Just a tiny fracture around his eyes, the kind that formed after too many sleepless nights and too much hope carried for too long.
"I promised her we'd go home." The sentence hung between them, unbearably small.
The nurse couldn't offer reassurance that would matter, so she reached for the cold cup of vending machine coffee sitting untouched beside the chair and quietly threw it away.
Outside, dawn began spreading across the city. The first rays of sunlight slipped through the window and landed gently across your face, warming your closed eyes exactly the way Yoongi had always liked. He noticed the light immediately and stood without thinking, crossing the room to adjust the curtain.
His hand stopped halfway. You had always looked prettier in the morning. Slowly, he lowered his arm again and left the sunlight where it was. Then he returned to the chair beside your bed, laced his fingers through yours one last time, and settled in as though another night still waited ahead.
The digital clock continued counting.
3:41.
3:58.
4:12.
Yoongi never looked away from you. If anyone had asked, he would have answered with complete certainty that he was only waiting. After all, for seventy-three nights, you had always responded.
And some stubborn, exhausted part of him still believed that if he kept holding your hand, if he kept tracing those familiar circles across your skin, if he stayed awake long enough, you would open your eyes and ask the same question you always did.
"What time is it?"
------------------
Winter arrived without asking for permission.
The first snow settled across Seoul in thin layers that disappeared by noon, dusting sidewalks, rooftops, and the windows of Yoongi's studio before melting into nothing. He watched it from behind the piano, a mug of coffee cooling beside scattered sheets of music, and caught himself counting the minutes until someone would walk through the door to complain that the heater was too high.
No one came. The silence no longer startled him. It simply lived there now, tucked between unfinished melodies and the faint scent of coffee that had seeped into the walls over the years. The studio looked exactly the way it always had—cables tangled beneath chairs, notebooks stacked in uneven piles, hoodies thrown across the sofa—but there was an emptiness woven into every familiar corner, a shape that belonged to someone who would never occupy it again.
He still owned seven identical mugs. People had asked why he never threw them away. He never bothered answering. Every Saturday morning, he reached into the cabinet without thinking and pulled out two. One for himself. One for you.
By the time he realized what he had done, steam would already be curling from both cups. He would stand in the kitchen for a moment, staring at the second mug until the coffee cooled, before quietly drinking them both because wasting it somehow felt worse than pretending.
Namjoon stopped mentioning it after the third visit. Jin simply washed the extra cup and returned it to the cabinet without a word. The others learned to leave one chair empty whenever they gathered, never discussing why the seat remained untouched through dinner, movies, or nights that stretched too late into morning. Some absences deserved respect instead of explanation.
Yoongi returned to writing music because he no longer knew what else to do. The melodies came slowly, gathering one note at a time until they resembled conversations that would never happen again. He left mistakes exactly where they landed, refusing to polish every rough edge, because perfection had started feeling dishonest after discovering that life could end in the middle of an ordinary sentence.
The piano became the only place where grief stopped feeling heavy. There, it transformed into rhythm. Into pauses. Into chords that lingered longer than they should.
One evening, he found a strand of your hair caught inside the sleeve of an old hoodie. He didn't remember the last time you had worn it, only that you always stole his clothes and insisted they smelled better than yours. The tiny thread rested against his palm, almost weightless, yet it carried enough memories to send him sinking onto the studio floor with the fabric gathered tightly against his chest.
He stayed there until sunset painted the room amber. Not crying. Not speaking. Just listening to the quiet settle around him until breathing became easier again.
Life continued because it always did. Schedules filled calendars. Albums reached deadlines. Friends dragged him outside for dinner often enough to keep him from disappearing completely into the studio. He smiled when expected, argued over takeout menus, corrected Jin's terrible movie opinions, and rolled his eyes whenever Namjoon knocked over another glass.
Anyone watching from across the room might have believed he was healing. Only Yoongi knew the difference between healing and learning where to place the ache.
Months slipped by. Winter surrendered to spring, and spring carried enough warmth to leave the windows open at night. City lights stretched across the river while distant traffic hummed through the darkness, familiar enough to blend into dreams.
Then, without warning, Yoongi's eyes opened. The room remained completely dark except for the faint blue glow of the digital clock resting on the nightstand.
3:17 a.m.
He didn't sit up immediately. His hand moved first, sliding across the mattress with quiet certainty until his fingers reached the empty space beside him. The sheets were cool beneath his palm, untouched except for the small indentation that no longer existed anywhere except in memory.
His thumb traced slow circles against cotton. The same circles. The same rhythm. The same silent promise his hands had memorized long before his mind understood it.
The words escaped before he could stop them. "Does it still hurt?"
The apartment answered with stillness. Outside, rain brushed softly against the window, and somewhere in the distance a train carried strangers toward homes where lights still glowed in waiting.
Yoongi closed his eyes. For the first time since that night, he didn't wait for a reply.
He pushed the blanket aside, crossed the quiet apartment barefoot, and made his way into the studio where the piano rested beneath the moonlight spilling through the glass. An unfinished score still sat on the stand. He had started it months ago. He had abandoned it after the second page because every melody kept finding its way back to you.
Tonight, he lowered himself onto the bench without hesitation. His fingers hovered over the keys then they began to move.
The first notes drifted into the empty room, gentle enough to sound like footsteps returning home. The melody wandered through familiar places—the warmth of convenience store pudding shared after midnight, sunlight falling across hospital blankets, laughter over identical coffee mugs, hands finding each other at exactly 3:17 every morning. It wasn't a goodbye. It never could be. It was every ordinary moment stitched together into something that could survive memory.
As dawn slowly painted the horizon pale gold, Yoongi reached into the pocket of the hoodie draped across the piano bench. His fingers brushed against smooth plastic. The hospital bracelet. He had carried it everywhere for months without realizing its weight.
Carefully, almost reverently, he placed it beside the sheet music. Not hidden inside a drawer. Not locked inside a box. Just resting there, where the morning light could find it.
The melody came to a quiet end. Yoongi looked toward the window as the first rays of sunlight slipped into the studio, warming the empty chair beside the piano exactly the way they used to warm your face. A small smile touched his lips, tired but unmistakably real.
At 3:17 every morning, his body would probably still wake before the sun. The habit would remain, stubborn and faithful, reaching across empty sheets for a hand that no longer answered. But somewhere between the silence and the music, Yoongi realized that love had never disappeared with you.
It had simply changed shape, becoming the quiet rhythm that carried him from one dawn to the next, one note at a time.
genre. enemies to 👀, university AU, neighbours AU, comedy, drama, romance, angst, slight smut
warnings. coarse language, crACK like lOTS OF IT, theyre both idiots. excessive bickering,,, gym related stuff,,, Medical school itself is a warning,, unhealthy amounts of protein mentions,, i’m Sorry if you’re a gymbro 😭🙏🏾, awkwardness, oc gets slightly injured, it gets slightly smutty 👀, unspoken feelings bc they both suck at communicating, some Cute stuff, that should be it but lmk if i missed any, its 4am
wc. 4.5k +
if this writing style flops, i’ll probably quit writing too 💀
it’s 7:04 AM
or is it really. what is the time again
unfortunately you are awake.
and it’s not by choice.
it’s because your protein 💪 PROTEIN 💪 MORE PROTEIN 🏋️ gymrat neighbour is up, doing burpees in his living room
and the walls between your apartments are criminally thin
and you’re convinced he’s trying to invent a new form of torture through burpees because the sQUEAKING OF HIS DAMN SHOES ARE JUST AS LOUD AS AN ALARM CLOCK!!
why is he even awake at this ungodly hour, you wonder for the 8293838th time since moving in
you feel like crying
for rEAL.
it was around 5:30 am when u finally had let out a sigh of relief at having finally completed your assignment
you roll out of bed, hair resembling a bird’s nest
what else is bed hair supposed to look like
“O YEA!”
here we go
again
you feel like ripping your already damaged hair bc why does he have to be so damn loud
has no occupant not filed a complaint against him yet?
so now u consider knocking on his door to complain... but you remember what happened the last time you tried
jungkook had answered the door holding two dumbbells liKe they were extensions of his arms, shirtless, smiling so brightly it could cure vitamin D deficiency
you knew you were cooked the moment smirked at you gawkinG at his physique and you felt your cheeks warming up
“oh, hey, Y/N,” he’d said, casually flexing mid-sentence with that stupid grin on his face “need something? Or just admiring the view?”
you haven’t known peace ever since
by 8:15 AM, you’ve surrendered to fate and shuffled into the kitchen for coffee
you swEar you hear Jungkook’s blender whirring as he makes another one of his infamous protein shakes
does he even eat anything which does not have protein powder
like ok you understand the value of protein
but anything which has that stupid thing in it automatically tastes like the Biggest Piece of Dogshit
and somehow that’s what you neighbour has 24/7
last week he had accidentally left one in the communal fridge
it smelled like death and regret.
absolute L
anyway u think u need to get something in ur system too and thats when u open your fridge
and sigh
it’s empty.
except for a jar of pickles and a, uh, questionable carton of oat milk
yea. you’ll have to get brunch today. no futher questions asked
10:32 AM
ur first class of the day
and guess what
u have made the mistake of sitting near Jungkook in the lecture hall.
again! 😍
u swear that u are trying to focus on the lecture but is it really your fault that jungkook looks extra,,,...,,,
beefy
his notebook is open, but instead of notes, he’s drawing a disturbingly accurate diagram of biceps
and the shading looks pretty accurate too
he notices you staring, oof “anatomy is about more than just books, Y/N.”
you feel a muscle near your eye twitch
“i really don’t remember asking.”
ouch
that came out a bit too rude. . .
you feel like u should say sorry or something but he just flashes you that golden retriever grin
and somehow, you’re the one who feels stupid
12:10 PM
you’d think a med school lunch break would feel like a break
but no
the first thing you hear is the unmistakable pop of jungkook’s tupperware lid. it’s like pavlov’s bell, but instead of a dog, it triggers your impending irritation
of course it’s chicken, broccoli, and rice. gymrat starter pack™
does this man even know other foods exist?
atleast it doesn’t look unseasoned so maybe you can take it
you’re not the one having it anyway
“bon appétit,” he says with that smug grin, shoveling a forkful into his mouth like he’s filming a mukbang
you side-eye your sad excuse of a sandwich. “don’t you ever get bored of eating that?”
he gasps like a victorian man having seen the ankle of his wife for the first time
“bored? of gains? never.”
the chewing. oh god, the chewing. it’s so loud you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose
crunch. chew. sip of water from the world’s largest bottle. repeat.
“do you have to eat like a vacuum?”
he pauses, fork mid-air, and looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. then he grins. “do you have to be this cute when you’re annoyed?”
wha— cough!!
did you just choke at your sandwich infront of him?
-100 aura points
your brain just blue-screens
what the hell are you supposed to do with that information
12:22 pm
you haven’t touched your chips yet. you’re saving them for after jungkook’s food massacre ends
his tupperware is licked clean but he’s already eyeing your bag of chips like a hawk
“you gonna eat those?”
“yes, jungkook, i’m gonna eat my chips”
“cool”
c r u n c h
he’s already eaten half the bag.
u are genuinely considering homicide now
the girl from the next table suddenly waves at him, all giggly and twirling her hair like she’s auditioning for a romcom
“hey, jungkook! you should totally sit with us!”
he glances at you, one brow raised. “should i?”
“why are you asking me?” you snap, already annoyed (but like, annoyed in a normal way, not jealous. definitely not jealous)
you miss the way his lips quirk in the corners
“nah, i think i’ll stay here,” he says, smirking. “you’re better company anyway”
...
why is your face heating up. why. stop it
1:00 PM
you’re walking to your next class when jungkook catches up, sipping his protein shake. the smell is somewhere between expired yogurt and pure evil
“so, lunch was fun,” he says casually, like he didn’t commit multiple crimes against your sanity earlier
“for who?” you mumble, giving him the nastiest bombastic side eye
“for both of us,” he replies, grinning. “don’t lie, y/n, you’d miss me if i wasn’t around”
“i’d miss the peace”
he laughs heartily and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to both strangle him and maybe... smile a little
1:12 PM
ur phone dings
dumb(bell)kook : (now) bring more chips tomorrow
or don’t. i’ll just steal them again
>:D
you stare at your screen for a second, debating whether to respond or block his number
you type back
you : (1:13PM) touch my chips again and i’ll report you to student conduct
his reply is instant.
dumb(bell)kook : (now) bet they’d let me off for good behavior 😛
2:47 pm.
group project time!
otherwise known as “watch y/n slowly lose her sanity” time
you're hunched over your notes, trying to come up with literally anything for this cursed assignment while everyone else is glued to their phones
“guys, any ideas?” you try, for the fifth time, because teamwork makes the dream work, right?
wrong. dead silence. you can practically hear your soul exiting your body
one guy mutters, "we could... idk, make a powerpoint?" and goes back to scrolling on instagram. helpful king
you’re about three seconds away from making a powerpoint on why you hate everyone here when the door swings open
in walks jungkook, twenty minutes late, balancing a protein shake in one hand and a clipboard in the other
like he’s about to announce his plan for world domination
he slides into the chair next to you, annoyingly fresh, as if he hasn’t just already benched three cows at the gym
“did i miss anything?” he asks, sipping his shake and eyeing you with those boba lookalike peepers like he’s the main character
why are his eyes so
cute
“yeah, we solved climate change and made contact with aliens. you're late.”
he smirks. smirks. “nice. guess i’ll tackle world hunger next.”
one of your lab mates looks up from her phone just to whisper, “he’s so hot..”
my ass.
“he’s useless”
you’re about to drop-kick the clipboard out of his hands when he lazily stretches and says, “so what’s the plan, y/n? you always have the best ideas”
and just like that, everyone turns to you like a pack of hyenas waiting for their next meal
you might actually murder him. right after you finish this stupid project.
>:-)
midnight.
you’re staring at your notes like they’re written in ancient alien hieroglyphics. focus? yup, that’s a myth
through the wall, you hear it. again.
jungkook’s obnoxious gym playlist thumping loud enough to summon the gods of protein.
how about you just summon the reaper to maybe reap your soul or his
you try to ignore it. you really do. but then the bass drops, and you swear the walls start vibrating
ARGH
that’s it. you’ve snapped. you slam your pen down and march out of your apartment like a woman on a mission
by the time you’re at his door, you’re already regretting this decision
but sleep-deprived y/n? she’s not known for her impulse control
you bang on the door like your life depends on it
>:-(
after a moment, jungkook opens up, looking like he just stepped out of a gym rat rom-com. damp hair, earbuds in, wearing a tank top that shows off way too much arm.
good lord, those tattoos..
“what’s up?” he asks casually, pulling out an earbud, as if you didn’t just nearly break his door down
whats up? what thE hELL DOES HE MEAN WHATS UP??
“it’s midnight!” you yell, waving a hand in the general direction of your apartment. “some of us need sleep to survive!”
he blinks at you, tilting his head like a confused golden retriever. “but you’re awake now. want to do a quick set of push-ups?
you stare at him. you need to go to the store from where he bought the audacity. “push-ups?!”
“yeah,” he says, dead serious. “it’s a good way to burn off frustration. i do them all the time when i’m annoyed.”
“maybe i should start,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes. “because i’m annoyed right now.”
jungkook grins like the demon he is. “great! i’ll grab my mat.”
before you can stop him, he’s already turned back into his apartment. you briefly consider running, but it’s too late.
this is your life now.
five minutes later, you’re on the floor of his apartment, struggling to do one (1) push-up while he effortlessly does twenty in the same time it takes you to collapse in defeat
you feel like someone has bathed you in sweat
“this is humiliating,” you groan, face smushed into the mat
maybe you should’ve just slept
“nah, you’re doing great,” he says, way too cheerfully for someone torturing you. “just three more and you’ll hit... like, five total.”
you debate throwing a dumbbell at him but decide against it
jail isn’t worth it.
yet.
five minutes later you’re on the floor of his apartment, now two (2) push-ups deep and already regretting every decision you’ve made up to this point
you try again, your arms shaking with the effort, your brain screaming for mercy, when—
crack
“ow, ow, ow!” you yelp as your shoulder protests in a way that’s probably not supposed to happen
“that’s it, i’m dOne” you wince, face red from the sheer humiliation and pain
jungkook is standing there with a weirdly sympathetic expression that’s 90% amusement and 10% concern
he’s crouching beside you now, and you can't help but notice his Bambi eyes, all big and concerned, looking at your shoulder like he's actually worried for you
fml
this is so unfair
“u good?” he asks, voice unusually soft, and you can’t help but notice that barely there scar on his left cheek pulling slightly as he frowns and looks down at you
you glare at him, wincing a little more than you’d like to admit
does it look like ur good lol
“i think i pulled something” you mutter, still holding your shoulder, and mentally kicking yourself for agreeing to do this in the first place
you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to him
“mm,” he hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to your face, and then down to your shoulder with that gentle focus you didn’t think he was capable of
oUuu
“you should’ve asked for help, rookie” he says with that familiar cocky grin, but you catch the slight crinkle of concern in his brow, the mole beneath his lips almost beckoning you to stare at it
why is he so dumb but also so stupidly handsome?
and then his fingers are brushing against your shoulder again, carefully massaging the area in a way that’s too intimate for someone who’s just your annoying gym-obsessed neighbor
your heart rate spikes, and suddenly the injury doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore
“i’m fine, really,” you lie, trying to brush it off, but the way his Bambi eyes are looking at you—all soft and worried—has your head spinning
oh god
“i don’t think you are” he mutters, voice low, as he places a hand gently on your waist, pulling you just a little closer
god, stop being so touchy
the fact that he smells like musk and with some citrus-y notes underneath doesn’t help either
you feel your cheeks warming and lips parting
you feel yourself leaning in despite all logic telling you to stop, and then his eyes flicker down to your lips and back to your eyes, slow and cautious, like he’s waiting for your permission
you really cannot help but feel your heart skip a beat at how beautiful he looks. no like for real, his hair is slightly overgrown, curled at the ends which fall gracefully over his face
and how soft his lips look
your brain is too far gone, and the next thing you know, you’re kissing him, hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer
his hair feels so silky soft
but his lips are even softer, but there’s a desperate edge to the kiss, and you don’t know if it's because of your injury or the fact that you’ve both been playing this weird tension game for far too long
you feel like u can finally die kissing him like this
his hand slides down your back, pressing you into him as if you might disappear, and you pull away, gasping for air
jungkook’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown and heavy-lidded, his chest rising and falling quickly as he looks at you with an unreadable expression
“shit, i… i didn’t think i was actually going to do that” he murmurs, his voice rough and nearly trembling if u hear closely
you stare at his lips again, the mole under them, the way he looks so dumb but also so dumb handsome
his mouth parts to say something stupid again but you shush him with your pointer on his lips
“shut up and kiss me again, you idiot” you mutter, pulling him back in without a second thought
oH WOW
Jungkook doesn’t need any more encouragement. this time, it’s all teeth and heat, a kiss that feels like it might burn the air around you both
and your shoulder? completely forgotten, left in the dust
the kiss doesn’t end in some grand, romantic crescendo like the movies promised
you both were shamelessly making out on his mat
you were perched on his lap and both of u were busy eating eachother’s mouths (it sounds gross but that’s what exactly u two were doing) when suddenly you give his hair a tug
and you hear a moan spilling from him
his hips buck up and you gasp, but it ends with him abruptly pulling away
he’s breathing like he just ran an hour on the treadmill. cheeks all flushed, lips shining with saliva and eyes wide
and your heart is hammering in your chest like it’s trying to escape
jungkook stares at you, lips slightly swollen, eyes wide and wild, and for once, the idiot looks just as lost as you feel
“i—uh—” you stammer, the words tangling in your throat because what the hell are you supposed to say after something like that
“y- yeah,” he cuts in, his voice rough and strained like he’s been punched in the gut, “same”
same? SAME?!
you glare at him, more out of panic than anger, because suddenly the room feels too small, and his scent—something annoyingly musky and Jungkook-ish—is now overwhelming you
“i, uh, should go” you blurt out, scrambling to your feet and clutching your sore shoulder like a lifeline
jungkook doesn’t stop you, just sits there on the floor, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and an expression you can’t quite place
“cool” he mutters, dragging a hand through his messy hair as his jaw clenches
you don’t say anything else, don’t even look back as you practically bolt out of his apartment and into the safety of your own, slamming the door shut behind you
breathe, you tell yourself, leaning against the door, your heart still racing, your lips still tingling from his kiss
you won’t lie, you really didn’t think it would take just a tug of hair to have Mr. Muscle moaning under you
and that kind of inflated ur ego too
>:-)
but now
as u stand behind your closed door
the warmth that had filled your chest moments ago is quickly replaced by a knot of confusion and panic
because this wasn’t supposed to happen, not with Jungkook of all people
he’s my annoying gym-rat neighbor. this is… this is stupid
or is this really?..
no matter how much you try to convince yourself, your fingers keep brushing your lips absentmindedly, and your brain replays the moment over and over again like some kind of cruel joke
the next morning, you half expect him to blast his gym playlist at full volume to piss you off like he always does
but it’s quiet
too quiet
jungkook doesn’t blast music. doesn’t clank weights around. doesn’t do anything to make his presence known, and it’s driving you insane
you don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does
when you leave for class, you catch a glimpse of him locking his door, but he doesn’t even glance your way
just slings his backpack over his shoulder and walks off like you don’t exist
asshole
yea that hurt. a Lot. like a good amount, because you are sure that you felt that pain in the centre of your chest
but it’s not like you’re any better
you bury yourself in your textbooks, pretending the kiss never happened, even though your stupid brain refuses to let it go
your chest feels tight every time you hear his door open or his voice filter through the thin walls
and you hate how you feel disappointed every time he doesn’t acknowledge you
like you really are a stranger to him
:-(
it’s pathetic, but you can’t help it
the silence between the two of you stretches on like an invisible barrier
days pass, and the two of you become masters of the fine art of avoidance
there’s a strange art to it, like walking on eggshells in your own apartment
even if u two live in separate apartments, it just feels
weird
you are so used to him being so noisy and what not
but the silence is heavy, uncomfortable, like an unfinished sentence hanging in the air
and it’s clEar neither of you know how to handle whatever the hell this is
you can’t figure out whether it’s a relief or suffocating
and every time you pass him in the hallway or see him through your apartment window, it’s like a silent conversation you’re not having
and that, somehow, feels worse than everything else
you want him to say something. anything.
but he doesn’t
and neither do you
and it makes you sick how easy it is to fall back into the rhythm of pretending he doesn’t exist
even when he’s right there.
you go to class and he’s there
sitting three rows ahead of you like he’s deliberately trying to ignore you
and with that girl who cannot seem to have her hands off his bicep
and you’re… fine with it
totally fine
you are just hoping that your glare is enough to burn a hole in her skull
it’s just that you can’t stop staring at the back of his head
like maybe he’ll turn around and say something but nope
the entire lecture passes and he doesn’t even glance over
and you try not to overthink it but you’re pretty sure jungkook is doing the same thing to you
ignoring you
on purpose
you’re not imagining it, right?
lunch rolls around and you sit down at your usual spot
jungkook’s sitting at the table next to you with his back to you
he doesn’t even look up when you sit down
normally, he would’ve sent you a little half-smile or asked about your day or whatever. .
but now? nothing
it’s like you’re invisible
and that’s fine. you don’t care.
but deep down, you feel this weird lump in your chest
because you didn’t expect this coldness from him
even after everything that’s happened
and you’d even unconsciously brought his favourite flavour of chips he especially likes..
:(
then you see him texting on his phone
and you can’t help but peek over at his screen
jungkook is texting someone
and it’s not you
for some reason, that stings more than it should, but you swallow it down and pretend you didn’t notice
the silence between the two of you stretches out for days
it’s like the entire universe is pretending you never had that moment together
the night when everything took a wild ass turn
but jungkook’s acting like it never happened
and so are you.
and maybe, just maybe, that’s better
maybe he regrets kissing you.
maybe you even made him uncomfortable?..
and maybe this is easier
you can’t decide if it hurts or if you’re just overthinking it
either way, you stop checking his texts, stop wondering what he’s doing in his apartment
you try your best to pretend it’s okay
but deep down, you miss the stupid moments
the ones where he wasn’t so distant where it feels like something ended between you two before it could even start.
it feels like it’s been over a decade
:(
and you hate it.
but you push it aside
it’s just… the silence is way too loud now.
you’re sitting in your room, trying to convince yourself that letting go of jungkook is the right thing to do
and perhaps ur failing miserably lol
but it’s hard because every five minutes you catch yourself staring at something that reminds you of him
your notes? he doodled on them during lectures
your hoodie? yeah, it’s his. he lent it to you one day and never asked for it back
your heart? yeah. he kind of stole that too
you’re spiraling between sleep and insanity when there’s a knock on your door
no, wait—it’s not a knock
it’s banging — like someone’s fist is about to break through the wood
WHO CALLED THE COPS ON YOU ONG
you jump up, your heart pounding, and open the door
and there he is
jungkook—standing there, looking like he just ran a marathon and fought a bear at the same time
hair all messy, slight bags underneath his eyes and kinda disheveled outfit
for a split second, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat
oh
it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and suddenly having him standing in front of you is making your heart race like crazy
“i can’t—” he stops, breathless, hands on his knees like he’s about to collapse
you’re standing there, eyes wide, totally taken aback by the sight of him, feeling a mix of relief and something else you can’t quite place
yet
“i can’t take it anymore,” he says, looking up at you with that ridiculous face of his
you grab that meaty bicep of him, ushering him to stand up
“what are you talking about?” you ask, completely confused
“you. i’m talking about you,” he says, taking a step closer
hUH
the air around you feels like it’s being sucked out of the room
your head is spinning because after all this time, here he is, right in front of you
“i like you. i’ve always liked you. and i didn’t know how to tell you, so i…”
“i got all this gym equipment just to bother you. i’d turn the music up way too loud, and i thought that’d make you notice me. i sat next to you at lunch, even in lectures, doing everything to annoy you because i didn’t know how else to approach you, i really thought—”
“jungkook.”
you blink, processing everything in a blur, your heart still hammering in your chest
but he doesn’t quite listen to you. “i knew you liked my sketches we had during cardio lectures, so i always made sure to draw—”
“juNGKOOK!”
you cut him off, smacking his idiotic shoulders “you’re an idiot.”
jungkook stops, eyes widening a little, but there’s this look of relief on his face
like a huge weight has just been lifted off him
almost like when u get to pee after holding it in for hours
“i know,” he says softly, and for the first time, you realize how vulnerable he looks standing there
he somehow looks
small.
“then why didn’t you just talk to me like a normal person?” you ask, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement
jungkook smiles sheepishly, his pearly whites flashing. “i guess i thought this would be easier.”
easier.
only if he knew that each moment without him felt like the earth opening up and swallowing you
AND!!! HIS FAVOURITE ONION VINEGAR FLAVORED CHIPS!! which used to be your absolutely hated flavour but somehow you’ve caught a liking to them recently
how ironic
the room feels heavy with tension as you both stand there, unsure of what to say next, but his gaze is so intense, it makes your heart skip
“say something,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “please.”
you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, still flustered, but there’s something about his earnestness that makes everything else fade into the background
and the way his caramel brown eyes nearly sparkle underneath your dimly lit apartment lights
you shake your head with a smile.
“you’re an idiot.”
but you're smiling like a total fool because what else are you supposed to do when the guy you’ve been in love with just confessed to you?
jungkook’s face softens, and then he smiles too
a smile which looks so adorable you feel your heart will burst
and it’s over for you
“so, uh…” he scratches the back of his neck, looking bashful. “does that mean you like me too?”
you roll your eyes, your heart racing all over again, and grab the front of his shirt to pull him inside
“kiss me already”
the door slams shut behind you.
and the rest
as they say, is history
:-)
a/n : i love them bad :’(
mlist | let me know what you think anonymously :))
❀: A collection of summer stories I hope remind you of the first sip of freshly squeezed lemonade; sweet on your tongue, with a tangy aftertaste that leaves you wanting more.
Each installment will be released periodically throughout the summer (May-August), Sorry in advance if there are any delays, I'm currently working full time but I'm really excited to share there stories with you.
PSA: These works are not related to each other in any way so they can be read in any order :)
The Honeymooners: As maid of honour, nothing made you happier than to celebrate your best friend at her wedding. After a wild night and drunken decisions you wake up in Maui, next to your long-time rival, Jeon Jungkook. And worse? You’re in the honeymoon suite… on your best friend’s honeymoon.
Pairing: Best Man! Jungkook x Maid of Honour! Reader
Sunset Showdown: You and Jungkook are both shortlisted for a high profile position on a luxury beach resort’s event team. Your spirits are high and competition is in the air while you'll both stop at nothing to get your way; but things get complicated when feelings are added into the mix.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Lifeline: Every year you and Jungkook fan the flames that burn bright between you during the summer but quickly fizzles when you return to your seperate lives in the fall. This summer, you both agree to keep it strictly platonic, but it's easier said than done when your hearts are on the line.
Pairing: Lifeguard! Jungkook x Lifeguard! Reader
Butterflies n' Bonfires: Out of your desperate need to make some quick cash, you volunteer four weeks of your summer to spend it in the woods with 40 girls and one infuriatngly level-headed and attractive co-counceillor.
Pairing: Camp Counceillor! Jungkook x Camp Counceilor! Reader
Bittersweet Summer: Welcome to the Hamilton Hills Country Club. 250 acres of perfectly manicured luxury, kept pristine under Jungkook's watchful eye. But if you're paying attention, you might notice his gaze drifting from the greens to his boss’s daughter, freshly returned from boarding school. She’s both charming, trouble, and a total wild card rolled packaged into one. Jungkook’s about to find out she’s the kind of whirlwind that doesn’t play by clubs rules.
Pairing: Head of Operations! Jungkook x Rich! Reader
