Jikook's Fanfiction Collection

You're intoxicating

1. everybody wants to know if we fucked on the bathroom sink

the word spreads faster than a wildfire. jimin should’ve known, of course he should. he should’ve known a lot of things.

jungkook’s got a bit of a reputation, and he’s got the perfect conduct. two opposites, different worlds colliding—it’s the kind of story that should stay in fairytales because jimin doesn’t need it.

he’s not even surprised when the bustling of students come to a standstill as he steps into the hallway.

“what a joke,” a sultry voice trills, and jimin winces at the pitch, before going on to throw the door of his locker open. “I heard you let jungkook get into your pants the other night? aw, too bad, sweetie. he’s not meant for cute, goodie-two shoes here.”

humming in response, he can’t help but think that maybe hanging out with jungkook has made him a little bad too.

“if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going now,” he purrs, smiling pretentiously and yeah, jungkook has made him bad. the thin, pale hand that shoots out, however, stops him mid-step and jimin rolls his eyes.

“are you and him a thing?” she asks, more ruffled than ever at his lack of emotion.

“I don’t know, sekyung-ssi. as his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, don’t you know? fucking around with me was meant to be a joke, but don’t you think your ex-boyfriend’s been rather distracted with me? not that I care much though, I’m done with him. you can still have mytrash though, he’s a good fuck.” his tone is poisonous, but at this moment, jimin can’t really find it in him to care and he wonders just where the angel in him has gone. maybe jungkook stole it away from him, together with everything he’s ever had—his pride, identity, innocence—he’s lost many things to jeon jungkook.

it still hurts to have been used, but jimin can’t find it in himself to care anymore.

2. how your hands felt in my hair

“hey, jimin?” jungkook questions, running fingers through the older’s hair and he murmurs incoherently in reply, teetering on the brink of sleep and wake. “you’re going to hate me in the morning for this, but I have something to tell you. don’t go.”

don’t go.

how very selfish, jimin thinks sourly, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

he hates this part the most. the border between his dreams of stardust and twilight, and well, jungkook. it’s another disadvantage to have a good imagination, because he can feel, still feel the way the younger’s hands stroke through his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp, even though it’s been days.

“you’re an asshole,” he finds himself choking on his yells later in his dream, because it’s the only time he can show weakness, and grabs onto the flurry of pigments that make up the younger’s face, trying to rip them apart. “I never want to see you again! ever! go to hell.”

3. everybody wants to hear about how you laughed when you said my name

no one’s seen jungkook smile in a while, and frankly, jimin doesn’t think he has the right to. not after everything.

that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t miss it.

“jimin?” the younger questions, laughing with his eyes all crinkled up and jimin had been offended at first. what? he remembers snapping back, and he should never have asked that question.

“oh nothing, just—saying your name makes me so happy,” jungkook says and grins, looking nothing like the devil he is. it’s no wonder jimin fell for him. he really should’ve known many things, but he never does.