how jungkook loves you when he thinks he’s losing your attention
(nothing — bruno major)
The party is a muted, close-knit gathering. Ambient glow envelops the room in warmth, followed by the murmuration of people mingling. You’ve never been fond of any kind of soiree, but when Jungkook had looked at you with those imploring eyes, you simply couldn’t refuse.
Admittedly, there is a certain paradoxical delight in engaging with challenging people—specifically, that of listening to someone with a totally different worldview. The intellectual exercise of navigating it appeals to you; even now, the glossy, garnet tips of your nails tap against the wide crystal bowl of Pinot Noir as you dwell on Mingyu’s viewpoint on Absurdism.
“...So, if nothing has inherent meaning then—”
“Then why whisper like you’ve discovered the secrets of the universe?” you interject with a laugh, amused by his sudden gravity.
At your interruption, Mingyu rolls his eyes with a groan.
Your lips twitch as you wait for his rebuttal, enjoying the way he navigates the Absurdist trap you just laid for him.
Across the room, Jungkook’s eyes are riveted upon you. A muscle in his jaw jumps, his tongue tracing the inner curve of his teeth as he watches you laugh.
Mingyu shoves your shoulder lightly. “You’re such a nuisance.”
Your face lights up with that familiar, lopsided grin, the words already dancing on your lips when a sudden silence travels across the room, stopping just behind you. The air thickens, filling with the aroma of smoke and deep cedar. The cool leather of his jacket whispers against your spine.
You shift, a subconscious surrender, leaning toward the pull of his presence.
“Fun, doll? You look like you’re having the time of your life.” His velvety murmur caresses the shell of your ear. A quiver runs the length of your shoulder blades.
“She’s a little menace,” Mingyu chimes in, bright and breezy. He offers you a wink—that practiced, effortless charm he uses to get away with almost anything—completely oblivious to the sudden, heavy tension anchoring the space between you and Jungkook. For all his quick wit, Mingyu has always been remarkably poor at reading a room once the air thickens.
You click your tongue in mock-reprimand, but Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence before you can retreat.
“She saves the sweet stuff for me,” he murmurs. “Always has.”
Mingyu chuckles, low and comfortable. But it’s just white noise to you now. Your gaze is drawn back to Jungkook—a magnetic, effortless surrender you no longer care to fight.
Jungkook catches your eyes, the silent look on your face stalling his breath for a heartbeat before his lips twitch upward in that disarming, bunny-like smirk. He bows his head, his lips grazing your cheekbone in a lingering, affectionate kiss that feels like coming home.
“Mind joining me for a stroll, doll?”
Without a second thought, your fingers slide into the familiar heat of his palm as he steers you towards the door.
Mingyu’s voice drifts back into range, a disgruntled mumble. “The audacity of this man,” he grumbles, though his tone remains fond. “The theatre of it all. You’re such a show-off.”
Jungkook’s smirk only deepens at the heckling. He doesn't even turn around; instead, he catches your gaze and leans in once more, pressing a final, deliberate kiss to your temple.
“Ignore him,” he murmurs, lips still curved. “He’s just bitter he doesn’t have a menace of his own.”
Boyfriend! Taehyung who turns pillow fights into poetry at 2 a.m.—all barefoot laughter and slippery escapes, dodging your every swing like he's made of smoke. You chase him through the blue-dark apartment, competitive fire in your chest, but he's always one breath ahead. When you finally stop—panting, defeated, bottom lip pushed out in a sulk—you glare at him with all the fury a tired, lovesick heart can muster. And that's when he melts. His laugh tumbles out, warm and helpless, as he crosses the room in two strides, palms finding your waist. He pulls you in and tumbles you both onto the couch, his weight settling over you like a promise. Then—kisses. Forehead, nose, cheeks, the pout of your lips. Soft. Slow. Tender enough to make you forget you ever wanted to win.
author's note: finally got around to watching BTS's trip and Taehyung dodging those pillow attacks like his life depended on it inspired... whatever this is. so here. a headcanon, i guess?
you have never wanted children. at least, that's what you told yourself — until you watched your husband feed your niece ice cream like she hung the moon, and something you thought you'd buried a long time ago quietly came back to life.
ᨳଓ ՟ tags/warnings ⋆˚࿔
fluff, established relationship, married couple, husband!jungkook, girl dad jungkook (technically uncle but we know), discussions of wanting children, emotional confession, soft!jungkook, domestic bliss, a child who commits ice cream crimes, happy ending
ᨳଓ ՟ word count ⋆˚࿔
~2.0k
For years on end, you have stifled the desire to raise children. It isn’t a lack of love for the life that could be, but a fear of the world it would awaken to—a place far too jagged for such sweet, cherubic souls.
But certainty is often non-linear.
Your gaze follows the careful movements of your husband, tending to his five-year-old niece — Hae-in — with the patience he reserves for your late night musings.
The little brunette is curled up on his lap with her wondrous doe eyes, tracking the rollercoaster his hand has become as he keeps the spoonful of ice cream just out of her reach, before bringing it to her waiting mouth with a theatrical woosh! noise. And every time, her cheeks flush like peaches under the sun, followed by endearing giggles.
Jungkook exists the way gravity does — effortless, inevitable, the kind of pull that makes everything orient towards him. And the moment settles in your heart like an old love letter — tucked way, but never truly forgotten.
However, your body seems to tug you towards the familiar laughter of your lover — bright, unguarded — anchoring you back to the familiar warmth of the living room. Your heart flips at the vision of his head thrown back in delight, eyes turned into tiny crescents that you long to feel under your fingertips.
Instead, your words come out a little breathless. Fond. “Penny for your laughter, darling?”
Jungkook barely manages to speak up between those melodic giggles, but his head is tilted slightly towards Hae-in, who is now giving him a traitorous glare for painting her button nose with chocolate ice cream, her cheeks puffed up like she’s beyond all this.
“Oh Christ—” He can’t even finish. Just dissolves back into laughter.
For the sake of her tiny pride, you stifle your giggle and press your lips together. Instead, your feet take you toward the adorable crime scene. Crouching down to be on eye-level with her, you flash her an understanding smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, your fingers gentle as they swipe away any traces of the sticky sweetness from her offended nose. “We must find a way to get back at your Uncle, hmm?” you cheekily suggest, earning an affirmative nod from her.
“Yes! Uncle Koo-Koo must be punished!”
The enthusiasm in her voice coaxes a warm laugh out of you. Though you seem oblivious to the heart-stopping gaze your husband directs at you. It is only when he lets out a soft gasp — realizing the mischief you directed through your niece’s ice cream laden fingers, now painting his nose in chocolate brown — that pulls your gaze to his reaction with a victorious smirk.
Yet again, any retort he might have ready on the tip of his tongue is swallowed by Hae-in’s chirp voice echoing in the space between you. “Silly Uncle!”
“Silly?! You wound me, princess.”
His lower lip juts out in a childish pout for emphasis.
Hae-in giggles, not fazed in the slightest by his theatrics. If anything, her arms reach up to you in solidarity to which you celebrate your successful revenge by scooping her up and your beloved husband receives the playful image of you sticking your tongue out at him.
“Oh no, my own wife is teaming up against me!”
“Heh. Gotta back up my princess, after all.”
“Woah—”
Hae-in, always one step ahead, declares smugly: “Aunt Y/N loves Hae-in more than Uncle Koo-Koo!”
“Oh, you brat—”
You laugh, warm and unguarded. Not even realizing the way your lover’s breath stills with something like realization and longing as you cradle Hae-in snugly to your chest and kiss her temple. Old letters are impossible not to revisit.
.☘︎ ݁˖
All good things must come to an end — however temporarily — because when Jungsu knocks on your door with a grateful smile and warm hugs, there’s a bittersweet reluctance that makes home in the space between your ribs. More so when Jungkook bribes Hae-in with more ice cream for next time to which the little sunshine responds by sloppily kissing his cheek.
“Uncle Koo-Koo is the best!”
“Oh, is he now?” He chuckles knowingly.
You, for your part, take it all in with a pensive smile on your lips. The ache in your chest threatens to consume you, but you lock that door and hope, quietly, that Jungkook will find the key. You’ve never been good at saying the thing out loud, but you’re getting better at hoping someone will ask.
The journey is always unpredictable, but in this moment — observing the same reluctance in your husband’s posture, the way his eyes follow Hae-in until the elevator closes behind them — shows you that maybe, just maybe… you’re not as alone as you think.
.☘︎ ݁˖
With night comes the blooming scent of jasmine, encompassing the air with floral, creamy notes. It mingles with your own scent of sweet coconut and citrus — washing away everything but the stubborn ache in your chest.
Occasionally, the ache is stifled when you focus on the steady rhythm of Jungkook’s heartbeat beneath your ear, your head tucked under his chin. But it returns with an persistence that’s hard to lock away as meaningless. The golden lamplight holds steady. You do not. You ignore it — choosing, instead, to focus on his fingers threading through your hair with tender reverence, his inked arm wrapped around your waist protectively.
A moment of silence passes. Then another. You sigh. Lifting your head just enough to glance at him, you note his closed eyelids and the tiny, peaceful smile on his plush lips.
"Koo…?" you call out, soft and hesitant.
"Mm?"
He lazily peeks an eye open. "What is it, jagiya?"
Despite your scattered thoughts, your lips twitch up in fond amusement at his endearing habit. He’s all sharp, beautiful curves framed by the amber glow.
As if sensing your conversational demeanor, his eyes flutter open to meet yours with renewed interest and curiosity.
“I’ve been thinking…” you start, albeit too careful. “The day passed beautifully because of Hae-in. Don’t you think so?”
Waiting for his reply, your thumb caresses over his cheekbone.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his own thumb stroking small circles on your hip. “She’s a delight, really. Got me wrapped around her little finger with a look.”
He chuckles, then adds: “Even if she loved the ice cream more than me.”
A warm huff of agreement escapes your lips. But then you go quiet again. Your thoughts drift before you can stop them. “The house seemed to bloom with her giggles,” you muse.
Jungkook hums low in his throat. His fingers curl around your own as he brings them to his lips for a kiss to each one of your fingers. In-between kisses, he speaks— “Felt like some kind of untainted melody. I was in awe every time she smiled.”
I was in awe of you, you almost say.
Instead, you let the silence speak for itself. The warmth blooms into something sweeter as you reflect on the afternoon spent with your niece.
Jungkook props himself up on an elbow this time, his gaze roaming over your face.
It’s as if he’s trying to peek into your soul. “What?” you mumble.
He smiles knowingly. “You looked really happy with her. And she seemed smitten with you.”
“Eh, don’t flatter me like that.”
“I call it as I see it, jagiya.” A pause, then warmer: “She adores you.”
Your cheeks flush a charming pink. "She does?"
Jungkook hums, but it comes out more like a disbelieving huff. Almost like he can't comprehend how someone could be so unaware of the way she moves through the world — all quiet care and instinctive warmth, like she doesn't even notice herself doing it.
“Hyung told me she’s usually very reserved around people, but she immediately teamed up with you—”
That earns him a small laugh from you. He grins, continuing. "So yes, jagiya. She adores you.”
Deep down, maybe the thought had already taken root, but his assurance has made it bloom and settle in your chest like flowers on an endless pathway — briefly lessening the ache. The unknown ache. Where does it lead you?
You try to make sense of it, but it tangles like a knot the more you do. But as you think back to the time you spent with Hae-in, you’re reminded of the trust and affection she so sweetly directed at you, and it cracks something open in your chest.
A deep, suppressed melancholy.
Before your mind even catches up to the frown on your lips, or the single tear slipping down your cheek, you’re being cradled against a broad chest. Jungkook’s warmth envelopes you like a shield against your own thoughts — the familiar woody scent of his skin pulling you back from the longing quietly unraveling at the edges of your heart.
He doesn’t demand, doesn’t offer empty words — just holds you like a delicate, contradictory poem. “I’ve got you, jagiya.”
“Koo…” you breathe out, your voice shaky at the edges. “I— I don’t understand what I’m feeling. Everything feels tangled up with no loose ends.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s no rush.”
His lips brush against your temple in reassurance. “Breathe with me.”
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Following the instructions, you repeat it until your heartbeat is far less erratic.
Even so, your thoughts flow like an endless stream, all pointing to directions you’re too afraid to admit even to yourself.
But when his arms tighten around you to hold you more snugly, you reach for the bravery you’ve not yet developed. “I…” you start, but trail off soon after.
“You what, jagiya?” he prompts gently, pulling back slightly to look at your face. He brushes a strand of your hair, tucks it behind your ear, and smiles patiently.
A soft pause and then:
"Whatever it is—you're not alone, sweet girl," he promises, well aware of how words tend to fail you when it matters most. “Never.”
You search his eyes for something — sincerity? acknowledgement? — and when you find it, the last of your frustration melts away into something like longing.
“I want to be a mother,” you confess. Your voice comes out too soft, almost like you’re afraid to let the words exist out in the world.
Jungkook goes still as a statue, his mind working hard to process your current words with the reality of your past ones. A flicker of doubt passes over his features. “Baby—”
“No,” you interrupt gently. “I know what you’re going to say. But, it’s not a temporary ‘baby fever’ because of Hae-in. It’s—” You pause, gauging his reaction. “It’s because of you, Kook. I saw how happy you were with her. And I remember how happy we both were. It made me realize that even when the world is cruel, the softness, the love — it starts with us.”
Jungkook is silent yet again. It lingers in the air like hope and anticipation. You almost take everything back until you notice the tears welling up in his eyes.
“Hey, hey—” You palms cradle his face with reverence preserved for prayers. “What’s wrong, honey? Did I say something wrong?”
He shakes his head. “No, no. It’s just…” Sighing softly, he leans in until your foreheads are pressed together. “I’m so overwhelmed with emotions, jagiya. That’s all.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” you offer warmly.
There’s a moment of silence as he gathers his thoughts. When he speaks up, his warm breath ghosts over your lips.
“I didn’t expect this. I never thought you’d change your mind,” he admits. “And it’s not that I wasn’t happy earlier — it was a mutual agreement, after all — but… if this is what you truly want, there’s no one else I'd rather start a family with, jagiya."
“I want this, Koo,” you affirm, the tip of your nose brushing against his. “I think I’ve been haunted by the narrative of my own childhood for the longest time. But after seeing how naturally we fit in with Hae-in — it gave me something like courage.”
“You’re not your parents, jagiya. Their patterns are not yours to carry anymore."
The first thing you learned about love was that it lived in other people’s houses. In the way mothers kissed foreheads before school. In the way fathers showed up to things. In the way a family could sit at a dinner table without the silence feeling like a threat.
So you built your own version of it. Borrowed. Secondhand. In the crease of a paperback spine, where the hero always stayed. In the movies you watched with the volume low so no one would ask why you were crying. In your head, mostly—where you could rearrange the ending however you wanted.
You told yourself it was fine. Better, even. Love was a distraction. Love was what kept people stuck, tangled up in someone else’s chaos when they should have been saving themselves. So you didn’t chase it. You ran the other way. You built a career with your bare hands, a life that was yours, a front door you could lock from the inside.
The right person will come along, you said. The right person will feel like home.
You didn’t know that home could be a person until Jeongguk.
And Jeongguk—god. Jeongguk arrived like a loophole. Like every fantasy you’d ever pressed between your ribs decided to grow legs and walk into your actual real life. Boyish smile. Knuckles inked with stories you wanted to read with your fingertips. A way of looking at you like you were the answer to a question he’d been asking since before he could talk.
He unraveled you slowly. Not like picking apart a mistake. Like unwrapping something precious. Inch by inch. He made you feel found. Like all those years of being overlooked, of shrinking yourself down to fit into rooms that never wanted you—none of it mattered, because he saw you. Quiet parts. Loud parts. Parts you forgot you had.
And it was easy. Terrifyingly easy. Like breathing after drowning. Like slipping into a dream and realizing you don’t want to wake up.
He loves you like it’s the only language he remembers. He loves you like you are the center of every room he’ll ever walk into. He loves you with the kind of devotion you only ever underlined in romance novels and thought, no one actually gets this.
But here’s what those novels never tell you.
No one warns you that being seen like that—really seen, completely seen—can start to feel like a pair of eyes on the back of your neck even when you’re alone. No one tells you that devotion, when it’s heavy enough, starts to feel like a debt you never agreed to owe. No one warns you that love, the kind that sweeps you off your feet, also has a bad habit of keeping you there. Suspended. Floating so high you forget where the ground is.
You start to wonder if euphoria and suffocation are just two sides of the same coin. If obsession is just love that forgot how to blink.
So how does a love so pure, a devotion so unconditional, turn into a cage?
₁ ⋆‧ how jungkook loves you when he thinks he's losing your attention [ 0.5k words ]
₂ ⋆‧ smother ۶ৎ you thought love would save you. you didn't know you'd have to save yourself from it.
jungkook x reader • oneshot (?)
[ prologue ]
₃ ⋆‧ yearning ۶ৎ you have loved him since scraped knees and mismatched socks. you have never once stopped. and you have never once said a word.
jungkook x reader • angst • narrative voice • 0.6k words
₄ ⋆‧ something like courage ۶ৎ you have never wanted children. at least, that's what you told yourself — until you watched your husband feed your niece ice cream like she hung the moon, and something you thought you'd buried a long time ago quietly came back to life.
jungkook x reader • 2.3k words
₅ ⋆‧ one last time ۶ৎ you broke his heart with a woman. he spent six months learning to hate you. now you're back — alone at the bar in the red dress he still dreams about — and every reason he should walk away feels like a lie. one night. the wrong kind of tender. a goodbye that isn't one. but here's the thing about ruin: once it starts, neither of you knows how to stop.
taehyung x reader • toxic relationship • ~1.7k words
✦ the thoughts ✦
headcanons, soft musings, and everything in between
⟡
₁ ⋆‧ boyfriend! taehyung ۶ৎ pillow fights and poetry at 2am. bare feet and blue-dark apartments and a boy made of smoke.
