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ethertae · 6 years

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Hurricane - Jeon Jungkook (M)

Hurricane (part 1)

Beautiful moodboard by @introsgf

Word count: 7.7k

Summary: You love Jungkook, and he loves you. But he lives with the stars, and you simply content yourself to look at the night sky from a dead field, desperate to reach for something you know will never truly be yours.

Genre: angst, light smut. Ex-boyfriend! Jungkook.

Warnings: light smut. This is not the depiction of a healthy relationship, this is fiction - pls don’t let yourself be emotionally abused this way (even though it may not seem extreme, it really is.) Jungkook, here, is a character that needs development, so it will be easier to understand the actual issue - we’ll dig into his mindset in the second part.

Requests: open

+ (playlist for the story)

(A/N: I know Namjoon’s figurines cost more than 3000 dollars – rich boy, lmao – but this an au where they cost about 50 -70 dollars)

You’re awake again.

The light from your television screen is the only thing that allows you to see in the otherwise dark room. You can’t fall asleep. The noise is drowned out by your solitude – this time of night is the only moment you can seem to think. You are used to it now.

He’s back.

Images of him appearing at your doorstep, with a hurt and lost gaze, flashes before your eyes. A part of you expects him to come. It’s been two days, and still no news. You let yourself think you don’t want to see him anymore; that his face would only bring out a deep-seated anger, one that has accumulated over the years, from all the times he left you.

You wrap the blanket tighter around yourself, shivering from the cold air that wanders from the open window and into your living room. Whether you like to admit it or not, you miss him. Your heart can’t help but yearn for the way he would wrap his arms around you at night, being the one to shield you from the bitter cold. But, you can’t. You can’t let him in again.

A buzz resounds, breaking the low murmur of your television show. The rate of your heartbeat increases, a pitiful twinge of hope curling your stomach. Picking up your phone, you unlock the screen.

2 messages from chimchim:

[Y/N, go to sleep…]

[stop doing this, it isn’t healthy.]

You frown – does Jimin know he is back too?

Of course, he does. He is one of his closest friends afterall. You decide not to answer; you don’t want him to worry about you. You would rather let him think you are asleep. You hear another chime.

A message from chimchim:

[I hope you are really asleep, and not just ignoring my messages -_-]

2 messages from Jeon Jungkook:

[Y/N]

[Are you still awake?]

You do a double take, blinking away your fatigue to make sure you aren’t seeing things.

It’s him.

Your heart feels as if it is lodged in your throat. You heave, chest rising up and down, because it’s him. Eyes sweeping over the message multiple times, a flood of emotions invade you. Six months. It’s been six months, and he has texted you.

You stare blankly at the screen for several minutes. A shaky breath leaves you, and you swallow the big lump, feeling as though your esophagus could tear apart from the width.

You’re scared, because he’s back. You’re frustrated, because he’s back. You’re despaired, because he’s back.

You’re relieved – because he’s back.

And no matter how hard you try to hate him, forget him each time he disappears, you can’t bring yourself to. Jungkook knows that, so he uses it. Uses your love for him, so he can come back, just to make you fall harder and then leave. He tells you, this time is the right one, this time he’s ready, but you wake up alone a few weeks later with a note on your dresser, saying that he can’t be tied down.

It started five years ago, when you were still a freshman in college, and he was a junior. You met through Jimin. You were sweet, naïve, and Jungkook was the mysterious boy, who had all the girls at his feet but wouldn’t give any the time of the day. He intrigued you, and although he would constantly say, you weren’t his type of girl, the tension was undeniable. And you were relentless in tearing at his cool exterior, till one night, he finally caved and kissed you at Jimin’s Christmas party - had you into a shuddering mess with the way your clothes bunched up under his large hands. Now, you say your stupid-self was too curious for your own good, too in love with him to see past what he really is – a coward. All he knows how to do is run – run away from his feelings as soon as they are too much to handle.

Your fingers hover over the screen.

Should you?

You think about all the times he hurt you.

No, you shouldn’t.

2 messages from Jeon Jungkook:

[I’m sorry]

[I miss you]

A whimper escapes your lips – your heart clenches painfully, writhing as though it has been stabbed. He always does this, and you always fall for it. You can’t, not again.

Looking at the ceiling, you turn off your phone. The lights in the shadows of your walls, travel with the pass of each car, and you keep your eyes transfixed on the movement. Maybe if you don’t give him a reason to stay, he’ll leave sooner. Maybe this time, if you don’t cave in, he won’t come back. Unconsciously, you ache at the thought of never seeing him again.

You let your head touch the rough material of your couch, legs curled against your chest, and blanket tight around your trembling body. You won’t let him, no you won’t.

Tears glide along your temple.

No. Not this time.

“What are you doing?” Jimin berates, grabbing the expresso that is tightly clutched in your hands. He runs to the nearest trash can, trench coat swaying with him, and throws the cup in.

You gasp, “You ass, I needed that!”

You shuffle to the bin, looking inside longingly before glaring at Jimin. You do indeed need it, you haven’t been sleeping much this past week, and Jungkook hasn’t contacted you since that night. It doesn’t sit well with you.

“It was your fourth cup, and it’s ten in the morning. You need to calm down.”

Jimin starts to walk ahead of you, and you pick up your pace to catch up with him. He is quiet as he advances, trying to reach your destination quickly, but you find the silence stressful – any type of distraction from your thoughts would be welcomed.

You wrap your coat tighter around yourself, regretting the fact that you didn’t put on gloves before stepping out in this treacherous cold.

“Jimin?” You whisper, unsure whether to start this conversation or not, but it has been tearing through your mind incessantly for the past week, so you ask anyway.

“Have you –“ you take a deep breath, the cold air burning your lungs, “have you seen Jungkook?”

He doesn’t react, like you thought he would – he was expecting it – instead, he sighs.

“Yes, Y/N.”

You nod, a stillness invading the air around you, even more so in the dead of winter. You try to tell yourself that it was enough information, that you don’t need to know any more of it – but you do. You always do.

You rush out, “how is he?”

Jimin takes a moment to look at you, hands stuffed deep inside the pockets of his coat. He regards you silently for a moment before answering, “He’s fine. He asked the same about you.”

You’re speechless, lump caught in your throat, and heart palpitating so fast, you fear it might stop. You bite your lip, eyes directing themselves in front of you, leaving Jimin’s flushed face.

“Don’t get any ideas, Y/N.”

You nod, breaking from your reverie, “Of course not, Jimin. It’s over. It’s been over.”

“It’s for the best.”

“I know.”

Your trek continues in absolute silence, walking down numerous streets and under the grey sky, to finally get where both of you have been planning to go for the past few months. But, you kept putting it off because of your busy schedules.

You exhale when you finally enter the figurine shop, the warmth of the heated room engulfing you in a hug. You look around – the shop is small, and shelves line the walls, rare collectable figurines arranged neatly on them.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask Jimin, whose already deep in the shop, touching the delicate objects that are displayed.

“I’m super late on Joonie’s present, and I promised him something cool. And, you said you’d help me choose.”

“Ah yes, I remember. And, Joonie’s birthday was 2 months ago.”

“Shush, I’ve been busy – I did the cake, okay?”

You cackle, touching the wings on a beautiful fairy figurine – she’s crouched, hands touching the ground and expression sorrowful, like she’s lost something – you find you relate to her.

“Damn –“ Jimin’s voice startles you, and you almost knock down the delicate fairy, but stabilize it quickly, checking around if anybody has seen.

“They have all sorts of figurines, they vary so much – Hey, come here, this is the sort of stuff Namjoon likes.”

You reach Jimin. Observing the collectables along with him, you notice that most of these Namjoon already owns. You made sure to sneak into his room and take a picture of his figurines, so you wouldn’t end up buying one he already has. You take out your phone, finding the picture, and looking from the device to the shelves of packaged items.

“Chim, he doesn’t have this one,” you crouch, picking one from the bottom shelf, it seemed to be matching one of the sets in the photo.

“We have to go shopping for Jin and Tae’s birthdays soon.” You add as an afterthought, suddenly remembering your other friends’ birthdays would barely be a month from now.

He groans, “Don’t remind me.”

He takes the covered object from your hand, and you show him the picture. Jimin smiles, seemingly happy with the choice and taps your nose, before sauntering off to the cash register.

You follow him, stopping beside him and clutching the counter. The nervous tap of your foot starts as your mind wanders to places you’ve been mulling over repeatedly. Has he changed the color of his hair again? Is he okay? Is he hurting as much as you are?

“Hey, Y/N – so,” Jimin clears his throat, uneasiness clear on his soft features, “um – so, we are going to be having drinks at Seokjin’s place, later tonight…with Jungkook – you know, to celebrate his return – and, well, it would be weird for you not to be there.”

The awkward tension is palpable, Jimin making sure to look anywhere but at you. He takes out his wallet, handing out the necessary cash to the man behind the counter and thanks him, bidding goodbye.

You amble at his side, too busy replaying his terrifying words over and over in your head, to answer him. The cold air hitting your face – as he opens the glass door to the streets – is like a harsh wakeup call, and you struggle to make the words pass your lips.

“Oh – yeah. That’s fine.”

“I mean, don’t feel like you have to – we would totally understand if you don’t come” He trails off, looking far into the distance at what seems to be the Christmas lights decorating a lonely lamp post. You have always wondered about that, why they bring out the festivities so early in the season.

“No, no! It’s fine, I’m fine…. I’m okay.”

He eyes you briefly, honey colored hair following the currents of the wind – “are you sure?”

When you don’t answer, he sighs – his perception getting the better of him. You’re spacing out again, and he doesn’t have the heart to tear you away from the visual novel playing over in your head.

“Hm, do you want to have some mulled wine?” he dares to ask, sending you a wink.

You look up at him, perceiving the small grin hidden by his thick red scarf, “It’s only 10:30 in the morning, Jimin.”

“So, what? We both need it. Plus, mulled wine is so good.”

You can’t help the subdued smile that molds your features, almost imperceptible but there. “I guess I wouldn’t mind some spices in my system.”

You pass by a small bar, one which sells the hot beverage you crave, a special you can only find during the holidays (- or at least when it nears the holidays, if you can call a month near). Entering it, you take in the bad interior décor. The dimmed lights of the bar illuminate the room in an almost welcoming way, the poorly strung Christmas ornaments adding a sad touch to the already uncommon view of a bar so early in the morning. One too few people, most of which are splayed on the tables, populate the dark box – if it weren’t for the windows, it would feel as if you were in a homely cave.

Sitting at a table as close to the windows as possible, you relish in the comfiness of the sunken seat you placed yourself in. The waiter comes with a disgruntled expression, a notepad in hand, and judgement evident in his beady eyes.

Jimin orders for the both you, falling back in his chair once the odd man leaves, “what do you think got his panties in a twist?”

“He probably thinks anybody that comes to a bar this early in the morning must have issues.”

“Well, obviously, that’s why we’re here.” The blonde jokes, prodding the chipped wood of your table with his small fingers.

“Har, har” you tease, pressing your hands together and blowing warm air into the space created between your palms, proceeding then to rub them together, till you feel the tingle of rushing blood. Winter has come early this year.

“Here,” the man comes back, dropping your drinks off, and leaving dismissively with the tray nested in his pit, before you even have the chance to thank him.

“Do you think he spit in our wine?” Jimin whispers, and glances down at the hot beverage, mocking worry laced in his brown eyes.

“I hope not,” you say, taking a tentative sip at the cinnamony goodness of your mulled wine.

Jimin hums in approval, a small, involuntary crinkle to his nose as he inhales the spicy aroma that now lingers in the air around you. The endearing twitch makes you smile, mouth curving upwards in subtle delight.

Slowly, your thoughts start drifting, and your grip loosens around your sturdy paper cup, eyes focusing on the small slice of orange floating around in the murky red. Your thoughts wander to Jungkook.

You remember the first Christmas you spent together.

You visited your family with him, since he mentioned he had none of his own. And, when you tried to press on the matter, he would only get eerily quiet, refusing to deliver any other information. Your family disliked him – you saw it as soon as he stepped into the threshold, their critical gazes eating up the way his hair was dyed an extravagant pink.

But, you didn’t care, you didn’t realize the importance of family approval or judgement.

You remember the champagne induced buzz you felt at the Christmas party, belly filled with pot roast, and filth being whispered in your ear, while Jungkook traced teasing circles on your lower back. You remember the way he pushed you against the bed, mapping out your body in the room of your childhood and teenage years spent fantasizing such things would happen.

You also remember the absence of his warmth the next morning, duffle bag gone along with everything he wore the night before. A note was left neatly on top of your dresser, written on the paper you used to confess your secrets on at 14.

That was the very first time he left you.

When you made it down to breakfast, you were sure to have your tears dry and a small smile plastered on your face. You excused him, lies leaving your lips messily – some sort of nonsense, like he had an emergency back home that needed to be tended to immediately.

Your mom saw right through the act – somehow – even though you felt like you had hidden it well enough. And, instead of chastising you, and giving you a meaningless lecture, she comforted you and explained to you the hardships of going through heartbreak.

Jungkook was your first real heartbreak. And, as unbelievably simpleton as it sounds, he was your first everything.

“– I’m thinking about getting a cat, and naming it Yoongi, just to piss Yoongles off. I want to get back at him for making fun of my love for candles.”

You shake your head and laugh, memory still in the forefront of your mind. “He’s going to kill you. But, make sure you buy a cat that’s as cute as him.”

“Sure thing,” he smirks, bringing the cup to his lips, twinkle in the boy’s eyes as he thinks about the man he loves, but is too afraid to tell.

“You know,” you look at him intently, “if you just told Jungkook how you feel.”

“Jungkook?”

Blanching – you stutter, correcting yourself, “sorry – sorry, I meant Yoongi.”

“Hm,” you avoid Jimin’s intense stare, “should we practice?”

You scrunch your face in confusion, “Practice?”

“Yeah, what you’re going to say in front of Jungkook.”

“What – why?”

“So, you don’t say anything stupid, or incredibly awkward. We both know words are not your forte when you’re nervous.”

“Who isn’t awkward when nervous?”

“Me,” he clicks his tongue, finishing the last drop of his wine.

With a roll of your eyes, you gesture for him to continue. He beams, adding quickly, “it’s for you, and the sake of all of us that I’m doing this. I don’t wanna have to kick myself from the tension tonight.”

“Ok, so what I think you should do is not really talk to him.”

“What? How is that not awkward?”

“– let me finish,” he wags his finger.

“So, as I was saying, don’t really talk to him tonight, I think you guys should rehash your problems alone – but,” he looks at you dead in the eye, “I swear don’t fall for his shit again, or I’ll kill both of you. I love Kook, but he’s a complete douche.”

You purse your lips, hands laying atop your thighs, and the tap of your foot starting again. No, you cannot be alone with him. No, definitely not. You play with your fingers, eyes strained on the way your thumbs twiddled together.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to be alone with him. I don’t want to talk to him anyway.”

“Good,” Jimin nods, a big enthusiastic smile gracing his lips, almost as if he hadn’t been giving you serious advice just mere moments ago. You find the small crinkle of his eyes strangely reassuring, because they’re so kind especially when he smiles, “don’t worry everything will be fine, it’ll go by super quick.”

You almost believe him

“Seokjin! Hurry up, it’s freezing!” Jimin knocks harder on the wooden door.

“Can you wait, you brat!”

An annoyed Jin opens the door - you and Jimin shuffle in the house immediately, desperate to escape the cold of nightfall. But, as soon as you hear the clang, your chest feels heavy. You can’t leave now. You’re trapped here – with Jungkook.

“Hey,” Jin hugs you, a waft of vanilla tickling your nose pleasantly, you take in his comforting scent with a soft sigh. His arms leave your back, and so do yours, taking a step back to stand at his side.

“Where’s my hug, hyung?”

“You don’t get one, because you’re disrespectful.”

You decide to leave your friends in the entryway, making your way to Seokjin’s bathroom, maybe to throw up, or hide the entire time? Yes, that sounds good.

You pass the numerous doors that line the hallway, rushing to reach the last one, which has a cute plaque marked ‘restroom’ in cursive. Your shaking fingers meet the metallic knob, and twist it open, switching on the light.

Closing the door behind you, you pull down the cover to the toilet seat and sit on top of it. You take off your coat, the thickness suffocating considering the heated rooms of Seokjin’s home. You lay it on your lap.

Okay. So. You are going to see Jungkook. You are not going to talk to him. It’s as simple as that. You also will NOT cry when you see him. No. That you won’t do.

You heave a shaky breath, rising and convincing yourself that it is way time you start facing your fears. You look at yourself in the mirror that hangs over the small sink – you look, normal, casual – no – you look half dead. You feel like you have been through a zombie apocalypse, died, then came back to life.

You shake your head. No! No! You look great, damn it!

You open the door and pinch the bridge of your nose, turning to walk out of the hallway. But, you stop in your tracks, the sight almost making you jump out of your skin – it’s like you see a ghost, and Jungkook is standing right in front of you.

“Y/N –“ he exhales, taking in your appearance with depraved eyes.

“J-Jungkook?” You splutter, shock splayed across your features with how much he has changed. He no longer has blond hair, instead he decided to dye it black – it sweeps his forehead gently, longer around the edges and you have the sudden urge to run your fingers through them, like you have always done in the past.

God, you missed him. God, do you just want to run into his arms and pretend he hasn’t left you so many times before.

Your gaze falls onto the way his lower lip is no longer bare; how it’s now so beautifully decorated by a ring, and how it rests at the edge undisturbed. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the way he looks at you – his stare filled with remorse, like all the other times he begged for your forgiveness, falling to his knees in front of you and laying his head on your stomach as you cried, because you already knew he had you under his spell.

You both stand there – immobile, waiting for the other to utter a word, to break the trance. It’s almost as if a dark cloud nestles itself above your heads, still silent but preparing something that none of you anticipate, because you say to yourself that if you make it through this, then you are home free. The reunion is always the hardest; the moment you see him after months of expecting his return, you crack. But, this time, you won’t let yourself be so foolish.

Hesitating, he takes a step forward, and you take one back, brows knit in caution. He stops upon seeing your dejection, lips upturned and face sullen – he speaks, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” you whisper, the image of him almost too hard to bear, you feel as though you are dreaming.

He nods, “I’m glad.”

Silence. Tension.

It’s suffocating.

Heat starts rising all over your body, beads of sweat rolling off in unconventional places – you can’t handle this, you need to get out of here.

“Jungkook? Y/N?” Namjoon makes an appearance at the end of the hall, your panicked eyes make contact with his surprised ones.

“Uh –“ he nearly gets whiplash with how fast his neck twists from you to Jungkook, “let’s go to the living room, guys…”

Coughing, he rubs his throat nervously and walks out of sight, running for protection and away from the dark cloud that looms over you.

You brush past Jungkook, lips sealed into a tight line, and unable to help the tremble that overtakes you when you catch his sent – it hasn’t changed, it never will. You hear the clonk of his boots follow you to where the boys are, their incessant whispers coming to a halt as soon as they feel your presence in the room.

“Hey, guys!” Hoseok chirps, large smile in place; subtly trying to diffuse the tension with a friendly pat to the cushion, pointing out the free seat at his side.

You shuffle to get there, a quiet sigh leaving you when your back makes contact with the plushy feel of Jin’s couch. Hoseok wraps an arm around your shoulder and leans in to whisper, “it’s fine – breathe.”

“Thank you, hobi.”

Nodding, he parts from you and unweaves his limb from your shaking frame. Yoongi clears his throat, bottle of soju in hand and shifts in his seat.

“So – Jungkook! It’s nice to see you again, man. It’s been a long time, and I think it’s safe to say that we all missed you – even though you’re a pain in the ass,” Yoongi takes a swig from the bottle, “someone get glasses, I need to get drunk.”

Jungkook laughs lightly, “I missed you too, man.”

“Yeah, whatever – glasses, we need glasses,” the older boy points at the bottle, a small raise to his eyebrows.

Seokjin hauls himself up, muttering something as he huffs in annoyance, “I’ll get the glasses, you lazy ass.”

“I bought the booze,” Yoongi retorts, a grimace curving his nose and morphing the line of his lips.

Hoseok laughs, booming sound piercing your eardrums, and you look down at your feet, from fear of meeting Jungkook’s gaze if your eyes strain in his direction, and you know they would.

Suddenly, your mind reals you back to a particular conversation you had with Jungkook years prior, the memory washing over you in a wave of melancholy.

「The wind blew and intertwined with the long patches of grass, weaving through trees and creating reassuring sounds of despair and lamentation. It yearned to reach the stars in the night sky, but it only met the kiss of nature and the tufts of yours and Jungkook’s hair.

You stole glances at the boy who stared longingly at he open sky, lips parted in slight awe as he lied in the back of his pickup truck, with you by his side.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever wonder what’s it like being a star?”

You frowned at his question, “a burning ball of gas?”

He snorted, shaking his head, “you know what I mean. To be contemplated by millions every night; to be free, and unattainable?”

The crease in your brow deepened, “No, I’ve never thought of that,” you casted a glance at the light that was so out of reach yet illuminated darkness and offered hope to an endless tunnel of despair. “But you know that the stars that are here tonight won’t be the same ones that you see in a couple of months.”

“Stop it with that Y/N,” he huffed, a smile spreading across his face, “I mean, to be so admired, and still be out of reach?”

“Like celebrities?”

“Something like that – “

“I guess that’s why we call them stars… why? You want to be a star?” you teased, rising into a sitting position.

“I don’t know,” he propped himself up by his elbows, “I just want something more; to be remembered. I hate this – staying here, going to college, and for what? Just so I can work an office job and come home depressed and complaining about how much my life sucks?”

Wordlessly, you contemplated the downcast glint in his eyes, how the wondrous twinkle in his eye captured the light that shone on you; it was filled with hope, possibilities.

“I don’t know what I want to do with life, but I know it isn’t this.”」

You blink, eyes immediately searching for his face despite promising yourself that you wouldn’t. The light in his eyes – it’s gone. When did it burn out?

“Y/N, take your cup,” Hoseok shoves the shot glass in your face, urging you to take it. So, with a shake to your fingers, you do.

The strong stench of the liquor drowns out your senses, and you wince at the sting it brings to your eyes – it’s been a while since you have gotten drunk.

“To Jungkook, and his return –“ Namjoon shouts happily raising his glass, and clinking it with Jimin’s, who gives you wary glance.

“To Jungkook!”

But it doesn’t go without a scoff, “he’ll be gone in like a week.”

Heads turn towards Yoongi, “fine, sorry – to Jungkook.” He chuckles, downing the glass and licking his lips as if it were water, already thirsty for more.

“Hit me up again.”

Taehyung complies, serving Yoongi, then bringing the liquor to his lips. His forehead creases in distaste – he never did like strong alcohol.

“So,” Taehyung coughs, liquor still burning his throat, “Kook, how has life been? What did you do while you were away?”

“Uh,” Jungkook sneaks a glance at you, and you’re too busy, making sure the last drop of alcohol has dripped onto your tongue, to notice. “Well –“ your head snaps to meet his eyes, the sound of his voice like the chime of distant bells to your ears.

“- I just traveled around the country, nothing much…”

“Ah –“ Taehyung trails off.

“Yah! Speak up! What did you do around the country?” You recognize Jimin’s voice – he’s uncomfortable, you can tell, this is exactly what he didn’t want, so he tries to break the tension.

“I stayed in motels, drank beer, and got a job as a pizza delivery guy – Jesus, will you chill.”

You take the time Jungkook is distracted, to memorize every new detail of his features – he has a scar on his jaw that wasn’t there before. You need more alcohol. Yes. That’s what you need.

“Ho-hoseok? More Soju, please?”

He gives a languid smirk, filling your shot glass to the brim, and you tip it – the rancid liquid carving its way in your system.

“More?”

The colorless drink slides down your throat for a third time.

Two bottles in, and all of you are hopelessly drunk.

“So, I said to the dude, you can’t touch my rap skills, and he was like yes, I can, so we had a rap battle, and I beat the shit out of his ass.” Yoongi slurs, a lazy laugh exposing his small teeth.

“When was that?” Namjoon chuckles, hand running up and down Jin’s thigh, who is already passed out, and sprawled at the end of the couch.

“When, I was like 17 – damn, I miss rapping, I haven’t rapped in more than 8 years”

“Wanna have a rap battle?” Namjoon wiggles his brows, standing up abruptly and nearly knocking Jin off the edge.

“Fuck, yeah!”

You can’t even think – your mind barely registering your surroundings. You feel awful. You want to throw up, cry, and cry again. Hoseok sits next to you, flushed red to his ears with a blank expression on his face, you find it is quite a funny sight. You giggle stupidly despite the acid churning in your stomach, threatening to climb up and spill everything you’ve eaten today.

Jungkook is staring at the ceiling, legs spread apart - he whispers, “Do you hate me, Y/N?”

You don’t hear.

Gibberish resounds in the room as Yoongi spits out random lyrics. Your eyes flutter shut, head bobbing to what seems like fantastic rap in your alcohol induced state.

“Ha!” Taehyung cackles, “Yoongi is so gonna beat Namjoon!” Arms find purchase at his sides, as he doubles over laughing.

“Naaah! I have my bets on Jooniiie! You hear that Yoongles? Namjoon is going to beat you, and my love for candles will live on! Come on, Joon!”

“Jungkook,” you hum absentmindedly, heart reaching out before your mind has time to react, “why do you always leave me?”

His neck turns abruptly, gaze burning holes into your stirring form. Did you just speak to him?

Your eyes droop, and you fight the urge to fall asleep, “well?”

“Y/N,” he starts, ignoring your question and opting to beg instead, “please forgive me,” he whimpers - barely audible in the mindless chatter that drowns the room. His sweet features bear unmistakable pain and regret – just like they always do when he comes slithering back.

“No – I want to know why.” You demand, the pitch of your tone a tad whiny under all the intoxication.

“Please – forgive me –“

Your eyes threaten to give out.

“Why do you always leave me?” You whisper, a tiny sob retches from your lips before you pass out.

You have been able to avoid Jungkook for the past 4 days. He hasn’t texted nor called you; and even though you say to yourself that it is necessary, a small part of you craves his mere presence.

You’re done with work, after an exhausting night of photocopying sheets and sheets of paper your boss ‘absolutely’ needed, you finally head home – at 10 p.m.

The sad part is, you always end up working overtime – your superior seems to like making you suffer.

You grumble at the thought of her high heels and her ruby red lipstick, the shape of her pantsuit taking on her perfect curves. You admire her level of sophistication, one you can never achieve – but bitterness doesn’t fail to invade you at the thought of her commandeering voice when she orders you to photocopy her stupid forms.

The lack of an elevator in your building makes you all the more grumpy, when you realize you have to hike up 5 flights of stairs just to reach your apartment. With a tired sigh, you take off your heels, carrying them in your hand as you walk bare-footed up the stairs.

By the time you reach the fourth floor, you’re out of breath. You heave, placing a palm on your knee and scolding yourself for procrastinating about hitting the gym.

One more floor.

You turn on the light when you make it to your floor, and almost scream when you finally see the shape that sits at the side of your door. He stands up immediately brushing off his black jeans, dark circles under his dimly lit eyes – so you haven’t been the only one that hasn’t been getting enough sleep.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

You can’t help the horrified expression bearing your face – you don’t know what to do.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he looks frustrated, the strands of his hair tussled, and lower lip swollen from the abuse of his teeth.

“I –“ you almost choke from the big breath of air you take, “It’s not a good idea, Jungkook.”

You try to sidestep him to get to the door, the key shaking in your grasp. He blocks you, “No, don’t do this, hear me out – “

“– why should I?” you hiss, anger filled eyes searching his own.

“Just, please – just – I won’t try anything, ok?” The way his eyes are wide in a plea, makes him so hard to ignore – so you cave, like you always do.

“Fine,” you whisper, opening the door to your apartment and allowing Jungkook to enter.

He steps in behind you, a small sigh leaving his lips, because he has missed your apartment and the way it smells like you. It’s always been so homely, so you – the way you sometimes leave your clothes scattered around from lack of time, or how you always leave small notes on the fridge that remind you of the things you know you would forget.

“Please take off your shoes – oh”

But, they’re already off, and he walks ahead of you, entering the living room. He sits on the couch, hands securely placed on his thighs, rubbing them up and down nervously.

“You can take off your jacket – I’m going to change.” You inform, then proceed to sprint to your bedroom and shut the door behind you.

“Oh my god, oh my god!”

Panicking, you drop your shoes next to your bed mindlessly and scroll through your messages, finding the exchange between you and Jimin.

A message to chimchim:

[Jimin! JIMIN! HELP! JUNGKOOK IS IN MY APARTMENT, I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!]

The time you have to wait for his reply seems infinite despite it being only 3 mins.

A message from chimchim:

[wtf? How?]

[okay, uuuuh]

[just play it cool!]

[BE FIRM!]

[don’t give him a window of opportunity, Y/N!]

[you’ll have to explain how the fuck all of this happened!]

[it better be good!]

The series of dings you receive serve to calm the fast thrum of your heart. You take a deep breath, typing in an answer.

A message to chimchim:

[ok. Thank you, Jimin.]

[I love you]

You throw your phone on your bed, ungracefully ditching your skirt and blouse in haste. You rummage through your drawer, dressed in your bra and unattractive pair of underwear. You throw on a random sweater and a large pair of sweatpants.

You patter your way to the living room, Jungkook in the same position you left him in, staring into space.

“Do you want coffee?” you ask softly, breaking his train of thoughts, his head snaps up taking in your form. He nods, “yeah, that would be nice…”

Your kitchen is a slight mess – the sink is charged with dishes, and you forgot to sweep up the abundance of crumbs you spilled on the floor in a hurry to get to work. You place the task to clean up at the far end of your mind, turning on the kettle. The pop of the switch resonates unpleasantly in your ear, the sound amplified in your state of fatigue.

You pull out two mugs from your cupboard, almost dropping them when you notice Jungkook’s old mug peeking out, from the back. It is nestled behind your unnecessarily large number of motivational cups.

You find it hard to breathe again, the sudden memory of him using the mug a copious amount of times, the way he laughed while holding it in his two hands, surges to the forefront of your ridiculous mind.

You push some of your other mugs in front of it, hiding it from view. You close your cupboards with a light bang, making the wall vibrate with the force. You wince, afraid to have disturbed the neighbors. Grimace invading your features, you make the coffee, and stir the finished product with a tea spoon.

You gulp and exit the open kitchen, feet meeting the soft carpet of your living room – the padding muffles the patter of your feet.

“Here’s your coffee.”

Jungkook jumps at the sound of your voice, flustered and lips parted, ring glistening wetly under the warm hue of your lamp.

“Thank you.”

You sit down next to him, placing your mug carefully on the coffee table and turn to face him, eager to get to the point so you could get this over with.

He copies your flow of movement, eyes meeting yours. You shuffle back, the proximity, taking you by surprise and rendering you speechless under his intense stare.

“S-so – uh –“ the nervous tap of your foot starts, and his eyes fly to the tic for a split second before landing back on your face, “what did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to say that I missed you – “

All the air that fuels your lungs, leaves your body in a big whoosh. You feel as if someone punched you in the gut, hating the impact his simple words have on you. Jungkook watches the way you react to him with greedy eyes – he rushes to speak again.

“I’m not going to say anything more, because I know you don’t want to hear it – but please let me stay a little bit longer, I’ve missed being near you.”

And there it goes again, the ridiculous pounding of your heart.

“I-I don’t think it’s a good ide – “

He cuts you off, “please?”

You dare to look at his pretty eyes, and they always get you. Your body language gives Jungkook an idea of what your answer will be, and relief floods his system.

With slumped shoulders, you whisper, “Okay.”

You reach for the remote and turn on the television. The recorded laughter of an audience sounds in the room as reruns of The Big Bang Theory fill the screen.

You avert your eyes to the tv, trying your best to ignore the way Jungkook’s warm stare heats up your body in an embarrassing way. Pulling your thoughts out of the gutter, you are determined to keep focus on the episode of where Sheldon and Amy finally have sex – at least someone is getting it.

You cough, shifting uncomfortably with the mixture of your thoughts and Jungkook’s burning gaze. You try not to get any ideas, convincing yourself that there is no specific reason that he is looking at you that way.

You watch the screen intently, directing your attention on the way Sheldon knocks repeatedly on Penny’s door. Over the course of two episodes, Jungkook’s gaze never dies down – you find it only gets harder to brush off.

Slowly, but sweetly the thunderous cloud starts to form over your heads again. The tension suffocating and mortifying – the coffee you drink suddenly feels too hot and the weight of your sweater too heavy.

You inhale deeply, ignoring the way a bead of sweat slides down your temple, and Jungkook’s eyes trail the trajectory down to your throat. His incessant staring grows hotter second by second, and what was supposed to be innocent in the beginning, now turns into something dark – sinful in the way he licks his lower lip unconsciously.

Times seems to stop. Each second grows longer than the other, mocking you and enjoying the torture inflicted upon you with Jungkook in the same room, and yet so unattainable. But, with the temperature of your body steadily rising, and the lack of an opened window, it is almost as if you forget the reason you aren’t jumping Jungkook.

Thoughts of controlling himself are thrown down the drain, and the fox-like side of him comes out to play.

“Y/N?” He hums, inching a little too close to you.

“Yes, Jungkook?”

You both stay at a stand still for a moment, studying the other earnestly. Jungkook stalks you like a lion, nearly positioned on all fours, as he takes in your flustered state – lips parted so invitingly and chest heaving up and down to take in the minimal air that oxygenates the room. One of your knees is propped up on the bed, while the other dangles off the edge – a slightly protective stance but a welcoming one nonetheless.

“Y/N –“ he breathes - the sound dripping with sexual intent and so enticing it has you whimper.

The momentum is broken – and Jungkook lunges for his prey.

You jump to meet his lips, the warm pillowy flesh molding with your dry ones, the sizzling metal of his ring engraving itself into your memory. His hands find your lower back sliding to your ass and down your thigh, hoisting it up as he lies you down. You savor the rough feel of his lips, his teeth coming out to tease your own, and tugging at them till it stings. The way your fingers card through his black hair, has him growling, his grip on your thigh tightening enough to bruise.

“God,” he parts from you, sound wet and crude. His thumb comes up to swipe your lips, parting the swollen flesh and trailing the slickness of your mixed saliva to your pulse point, pressing on it lightly. “I’ve missed you so much,” he presses harder against the beat of your heart, enjoying how it rushes at his touch. “I missed the way you react so easily to my touch,” he replaces his thumb with his tongue, laving the spot gently with the muscle – the sensation has you shuddering.

He squeezes your thigh harder, pulling you closer when you arch your back, eager to press your body into his, to feel the curve of his crotch.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

You moan in agreement, drawing his lips back to yours and tasting the metal punctured in his lower one. He smiles, “Hm – someone’s desperate,” his hand leaves the dip of your ass, making way to the juncture between your legs.

Jungkook presses his palm to your pussy, stimulating your clit through the cotton of your pants, and you gasp, a whine following your sharp intake. He kisses your chin delicately, proceeding to dip down your neck and lick a stripe all the way to your wanting mouth. “Tell me,” he presses down harder, “you must’ve been pretty deprived to act so needy – how long has it been since somebody took care of your pretty cunt.”

You close your eyes, lips parted but no sound escaping them – he brings his hand forth again, “nphmg.”

“Come on. Answer, Y/N.” he grazes his tongue against your collarbone.

“Since you left, God –“ you moan as he palms at your core relentlessly, “ – you left.”

Whimpering, you repeat, “you left me – God, you left me.” The mist that fogged your thoughts clears.

Jungkook freezes and fear overrides his lust, “W-what?”

“Stop, Jungkook, stop –“ you struggle to escape the way his body cages you in, reason making way into your mind.

He reels back to other end of the couch, lips swollen, and expression dazed. His eyes contain a mix of confusion and hurt, so different from the dominance they held moments ago.

Breath uneven, you stare at him. No. The memories of all the times you woke up to an empty bed haunt your vision, and suddenly, the light you see Jungkook under, changes. The warm colors of your lamp now cast a dark glow on his angelic features, entangling him with thorns. So beautiful, but unattainable. Just like he always wanted.

“I think you need to leave,” you whisper, looking down to where your pants stick to your sweaty skin.

You don’t bother to look as he gets up, pulling your legs to your chest and hugging them in search of comfort. He wordlessly makes his way to your front door and leaves. As soon as you hear the metal close on it’s hinges, a sob retches from your throat, sound echoing throughout the empty apartment.

↝ Masterlist ↜

(A/N: there is going to be a part 2, might focus on other things first, though. Feedback is really, really appreciated, if you want a second part please say so.)

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts #bangtan smut #Jungkook angst #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #one shot #bts one shot #jeon jungkook #kpopwonderlandtag #prettyboysnetwork #bangtanarmynet #kwordsmiths #bangtanbuds

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