pairing. non-idol!bangtan, producer!yoongi x y/n, bestfriendβs sister to lovers
warnings. cussing, 4 years age gap, high sex-drive, under the influence of aphrodisiac, unprotected consensual sex.
word count. 10k
summary. Your brother, Namjoon, loves you far too much to leave you alone after your stupid ex-boyfriend dumped you. Determined to cheer you up, he insists on bringing you along as his plus one to his best friendβSeokjinβs bachelorβs party. Growing up around his friends your entire life, neither you nor the rest of them find it strangeβitβs simply the way things have always been.
When Seokjin books the hotel rooms for the trip, an unfortunate oversight occurs. A hotel staff misses the reservation for your room due to a system glitch, resulting in a double bookingβand by the middle of the night, youβre left without a place to sleep.
With everyone else on the trip far too drunk and wasted to help solve the problem, you have little choice but to share a room with Yoongiβyour brotherβs closest best friend and, unfortunately, your long-time crush.
Everything was fine until you ate something you definitely shouldnβt have.
Thanks to my betas: @mrsparkjimin18, @moonleeai, @cherrysoulthΒ
Cross-posted to AO3.
*sometimes the same scene will happen from different POV
There will be a part two. π
Summary: On day one in the villa, Seokjinβs only plan was to play the game and winβuntil he was paired with the one girl who could match his banter.
A/N - π₯½= Jin POV, π= f.Reader POV, π£οΈ= confessional
The lights were blinding, the chair felt like it came from IKEAβs βRegret Collection,β and Kim Seokjin still looked like a man seconds away from accepting an award for Best Leading Actor in a Romance.Β
He adjusted the camera-facing side of his face (the better sideβhe had a chart), smoothed his shirt like he was on a red carpet, and offered a long, dramatic sigh. Not because he was tired. Because the world was lucky to have him.Β
βThey told me to be honest,β he said, eyes narrowed at the camera like he was about to admit to a scandal. βSo here it is: Iβm not here to fall in love. Iβm here to win.β
He paused. Then added, as if deeply offended, βAnd if love tries to flirt with me? I will report it to HR.β
From behind the production curtain, one of the staff snorted. Jin ignored it with the grace of a man used to causing involuntary laughter.Β
βIβve seen these shows,β he went on, now gesturing vaguely like he was outlining a conspiracy. βTwo people lock eyes. Someone says, βIβve never felt this way beforeβ after three cocktails. Suddenly, theyβre crying in a hot tub. No, thank you.β
He turned slightly in the chair to show off his profile. βIβm here to look good, steal the best bed, and maybeβmaybeβkiss someone if they say something funny enough to deserve it.β
A pause. A twitch of the mouth. He almost smiled for real.
βBut hey,β he said, voice quieter now. βIf someone actually makes me laugh?β His brows lifted. βThatβs a problem. For me. For them. For everyone.β He made an exploding gesture with both hands. βDisaster. Ratings gold. Youβre welcome.β
~Cut.~
Kim Seokjin pushed the door open with one pristine white sneaker, letting it swing wide like a stage curtain. He stepped inside with practiced easeβluggage in one hand, sunglasses still on, and the air of a man whoβd already decided the show was lucky to have him.
His first impression of the place?
Tacky. And aggressively emanating a confused mashup of coastal rustic and βinfluencer Airbnb.β Too much rattan. Not enough taste. βOh no,β he muttered, eyes scanning the rattan furniture, the faux coastal accents, the excessive throw pillows chosen by a producer who thought boho meant expensive, and overly curated plants. βItβs worse than I imagined.β
The cameras were already tracking himβtiny red lights blinking from the corners of the ceiling. He didnβt look at them. He didnβt have to.
He dropped his bag by the entryway and took a slow lap, hands in pockets, like he was considering buying the place out of pity. The scent of ocean breeze drifted in through the open windows, tangled with sunscreen and desperation.
The villa was utterly quiet. No voices yet. No movement. He was the first one in.
βGood,β he said to himself. βI hate sharing a spotlight.β
In the kitchen, he opened a cabinet. The shelves were bulging with the most current, trendy foods and beverages. With a flick of his wrist, he closed the white door before making his way to the bedroom.
There was no luggage in sight, no marks of human presence.
First pick.
He smiled.Β
A slow, smug smile.
He chose the bed with the best window light and the most strategic angle to the mirror, then flung his white, hard-shell suitcase onto the bed, which had his name scribbled along one side in hot-pink script.
There. Claimed.
He didnβt sit. Not yet. Instead, he stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, surveying the room like a prince inspecting his summer palace.Β
βI give it three days before someone cries in here,β he mutters to himself, βHopefully not on my pillow.β
From somewhere outside, faint laughter echoed. A door slammed. Footsteps crunched across the gravel.
More arrivals.
Jin tilted his head slightly, gaze fixed on the hallwayβbut didnβt move. Let them come to him.
He was ready.
π
The gravel crunched under your sandals in a way that was not flattering.Β
You paused at the entrance, one hand gripping the handle of your suitcase, the other shielding your eyes from the sun. Somewhere behind you, a production assistant shouted something cheerful and vaguely threatening like βjust be yourself!β before disappearing back down the path.
You were going to be sick.
The villa looked like an Instagram filter had thrown up on a Pinterest board. Palm trees, wicker everything, soft linens in shades of sandstorm beigeβ’. It smelled like a coconut and capitalism.
You took a deep breath.
You werenβt here for love. You werenβt here for drama. You were here because your roommate dared you to apply, and because you were bored enough to say yes when the producers called.
That was it.
You could do this. Just donβt get attached to anyone. Donβt trust anyone. Donβtβ
Reaching the bedroom, the door creaked as you pushed it open.Β
And there he was.
Standing by one of the beds like he owned it, arms crossed, hair too perfect, face unfairly symmetrical. He didnβt turn toward you right away. He was still staring at the mirror in front of him, like he was contemplating the meaning of life.
Then he turned and looked at you and smiled.
It wasnβt a big smile. Just the kind that lifted one corner of his mouth like he knew something you didnβt. The kind that said βyes, Iβm pretty, and yes, I know you noticed.β
Whichβokay. Maybe you did for like half a second.
You stood frozen in the doorway, caught between wanting to introduce yourself and wanting to turn around and pretend you were lost and accidentally wandered into the wrong room.
βHi,β he said, casually, breaking the looming silence.
You blinked. βIs this the part where we pretend this isnβt awkward?β
His smile widened. βOh, good. Youβre funny.β
You hated how fast your stomach flipped at that compliment.
βI was hoping to get here first,β you said, dragging your suitcase into the room, one that is identical to his but with your name calligraphied down the side. βPick a bed. Establish dominance. That sort of thing.β
He nodded, the corner of his lips twitching upward. βThat wouldβve been smart. Unfortunately, Iβm smarter.β
You stared at him.
He didnβt blink.
Neither did you.
β...Right,β you said finally, picking the bed farthest from him. It had slightly worse lighting and no window breeze. But this way, there is less risk of spontaneously combusting.
βJust so you know,β he added, sitting on the edge of his bed now, βpeople usually fall in love with me around the third day of knowing me. Try to pace yourself.β
You exhaled a slow, cursed laugh. βIβll try to survive the first forty-eight, then.β
He grinned.
You hated how much you liked it.
π£οΈ
The chair was too deep. Or maybe you were just sitting weirdly.
You shifted again, trying to look natural while also calculating what βnaturalβ looked like on camera. Someone had definitely mentioned posture during orientation. Or maybe it was something about fidgeting? Hairstyle? Eyebrows? You couldnβt remember. Your ears were buzzing.
βSoβ¦β a producer said from behind the production light. βFirst impressions?β
You stared at the camera. Then let out a breath that was somehow a sigh, a laugh, and a quiet internal scream.
βI meanβyeah. Sure. First impressions.β You stall as you gather your scattered thoughts.Β
Another beat passed as you fiddled with the hem of your shorts.Β
βHeβsβ¦β you stopped. Your lips pursed. βOkay, objectively? Heβs very symmetrical.β
Another pause. Somewhere in the dark, a producer laughed.
βHeβs also full of himself. Like, very. Like if confidence were an Olympic sport, he would be doping. And coaching the team. And posing for the medals.β
You shrugged, already a little too warm under the lights. βBut heβs funny, which is unfair. I was fully prepared to hate him on sight, and then he said something sarcastic and I laughed, and now Iβm mad at myself.β
Your fingers tapped lightly against your leg.
βHeβs obviously playing a game. WhichβI respect. Kind of. I mean, I donβt trust it, but I respect it.β
You leaned back, finally settling into the chair like the war was over. βIβm not here for love. Iβm here to not look stupid on national television.β
Silence.
βWhich is already going great, clearly.β
~Cut.~
The heat was already clinging to your skin when the producers ushered you outside with the other female contestants.
The five of youβlined up like products in a weirdly flirty showroomβstood facing the villaβs grand entrance while the production team fussed with cameras and mics. Sand crunched beneath your sandals, fake grass stretched behind you, and somewhere in the distance, a speaker was blasting synthy instrumental music that sounded like it desperately wanted to be sexy.Β
You took in the other girls standing next to you, and your eyes landed on the girl on the far right. Lana, all curves and confidence, was reapplying her lip gloss as if it were armor. Yuri stood beside her, glowing with soft beach-girl energy and smiling like this was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. Maya gave you a glance and an eyerollβmutual silent agreement: this is insane, right? Bianca was already waving at the cameras.
You folded your arms across your chest as a voice crackled from behind a camera, βLadies, you know the rules. One by one, the boys will enter. Step forward if youβre interested.β
Lana whispered, βShowtime.β
Cue the first guy stepping out.
Jungkook.
He jogged down the villa steps like a golden retriever whoβd just been told he was a very good boy. Tank top, tattoos down both arms, earrings lining the curves of his ears, and the worldβs softest brown eyes.
βOh no,β Maya whispered. βHeβs gonna make me believe in astrology.β
Jungkook grinned like heβd just won something. βHi,β he said with a tiny bow. βMy name is Jungkook.β
You didnβt step forward. Neither did Maya.
Yuri and Bianca both did. Lana hesitated, then stayed putβprobably saving her energy for someone taller.
Jungkook picked Yuri after a moment of adorable panic. She looked delighted. Cute. Easy. Safe.
You bit your lip.
Namjoon.
Then came the next guy, button-up fluttering in the breeze, dimples set to βmurderous,β sunglasses hooked on one finger like heβd already analyzed the entire competition and filed a strategic report.
He walked like he didnβt know how hot he was.Β
Bianca stepped forward before he even introduced himself. Lana followed. You blinked, surprised to see Maya step forward too. She shrugged at you, as if to say, βHe seems emotionally literate, sue me.β
Namjoon smiled warmly. βIβm Namjoon.β
He chose Lanaβprobably because she looked like sheβd eat the others for brunch if he didnβt.
Dante.
This guy wore a smirk that screamed trust fund problems and had the kind of tattoo sleeve that had no business looking that good on a man who definitely lied on his taxes.
Bianca stepped forward again. No hesitation. Maya didnβt.
You glanced at Dante. He caught your eye.
You blinked. He winked.Β
βNope,β you muttered to yourself.
Dante picked Bianca, obviously. She winked back.
Leo.
Next was the stereotypical quiet, brooding, built like a lifeguard type who wrote poetry about the moon.
He introduced himself in one-word answers and ran a hand through his dark hair like it owed him money.Β
Maya stepped forward again.
You thought about it.
You didnβt.
Leo picked Maya. She gave you a look as she walked off that said, I still donβt believe in love, just giving him a shot.
Now there were four guys standing with their new partners.
And just you, standing alone under a sky so bright it felt personal.
Seokjin.
Then he walked out.
White linen shirt, buttons undone to just the right degree. Hair styled like the wind loved him personally. He walked out as if heβd already owned this villa and everyone in it.
And then, without even introducing himself, he made eye contact with you.
Direct. Unflinching.
He didnβt even look at the others.
The others were already standing in neat pairs, hands clasped, grins fixed for the cameras, which left you. And him.
You didnβt step forward. Not because you werenβt curious. But because it felt like exactly the kind of game he wanted you to play.
So you stayed where you were, arms crossed, your heart doing something extremely rude.
Technically, it wasnβt a choice. But he made it sound like one. Jin arched a brow.
Then, loudly enough for the cameras: βI choose the one pretending not to look at me.β
Your stomach dropped.
You walked over to stand next to him, a slow and smug look on his face that said you were already his.
βHi,β he said with a grin, tilting his head. βYouβre welcome.β
You stared at him.
Then gave a single, short nod. βBold choice.β
βIt always is.β
The camera zoomed in on the two of you.
π£οΈ
Your fingers fiddle with the mic hanging around your neck.
βSoβ¦β the producer prompts. βSeokjin picked you.β
You huff out a laugh thatβs more disbelief than amusement. βYeah. As observed by you and everyone else.β
You lift your hands in mock surrender. βItβs not like I had options. We were the last two standing. He could be a serial killer, and Iβd still be here.β
You lean back, lips pressing into something that isnβt quite a smile. βHeβs confident. Like, capital C confident. The kind of guy who walks into a room and assumes the lighting is for him.β
You glance toward the side, like maybe heβs just off camera. βThe worst part? It worked.β
~Cut.~
π₯½
Jin wasnβt surprised you hadnβt stepped forward.
Some people, less intelligent ones, wouldβve taken that as rejection. He took it as an invitation. After all, anyone who could resist him in the opening act clearly had a higher tolerance for charm than the average human. Which only meant one thing.
You were going to be fun.
Now, twenty minutes after the coupling ceremony, they were all scattered across the pool deck. Jungkook was doing push-ups for no apparent reason. Namjoon was deep in conversation with Lana about how the moon affected tides. Dante and Bianca were already draped across a lounge chair, as if they were filming an ad for bad decisions.Β
And youβhis newly assigned partnerβwas over by the bar, leaning casually against the counter while talking to Leo.
Jin sipped his drink, watching from his perch on the edge of the pool. It wasnβt jealousy. Obviously not. He didnβt like the way Leo was looking at you like you were his next snack.
You laughed at something Leo said. The sound carried, light and easy, over the low hum of conversation ebbing and flowing around him.
Jin tilted his head.Β
Heβd made his choice earlier for the cameras, sureβbut now? Now it felt less like a choice and more like a claim he actually wanted to defend.Β
He stood, setting his drink down with precision, and crossed the deck.
βLeo,β he said smoothly when he reached the pair, as if greeting an old friend. Then, to you: βAlready making me work for it? Talking to the competition on day one?β
Your eyes narrowed slightly, lips twitching. βDidnβt realize this was a possession arrangement.β
βItβs not,β he said, leaning an elbow on the counter beside you. βItβs a winning arrangement. And I like to win.β
Leo gave a low chuckle, clearly entertained, and excused himself with a shrug.
Jin watched him go, then turned his full attention back to you. βSo. What were you laughing at?β
βWouldnβt you like to know,β you said sarcastically.
βI would,β he replied without missing a beat, his smile slow and sure. βAnd I will.β
You didnβt bother responding, not about the joke, not about why you were smiling at Leo. Instead, you reached for the glass on the counter and took a long sip, eyes fixed on the pool like he wasnβt still standing there.
Most men might have taken the hint. Seokjin wasnβt most men.
Adjusting his approach, Seokjin asks, βYou always this mysterious, or is this just for me?β
Side-eyeing him over the rim of your drink.βMysterious? No. Selective? Yes.β
βThatβs dangerous,β he said. βI like it.β
He noticed the way you were leaningβjust slightly back, chin lifted, like youβre measuring the distance between the two of you. He stepped into it. Not much. Just enough for you to notice.
The sun caught on the mirrored lenses of your sunglasses, throwing his own face back at him. He smiled at the reflection. Then, without warning, he reached up, hooked a finger on the frame, and slid them right off your face.
βHeyββ
βMm,β he hummed, putting them on in one smooth motion. βThese look better on me.β
You blinked at him, momentarily caught between irritation and laughter. βYou canβt justββ
βI can,β he interrupted, tapping the side of the glasses. βAnd I just did.β
βYouβre unbelievable.β
βThatβs why people believe me,β he said, lips quirking.
You snatched them back before he could react, the edge of your fingers gently brushing his cheek in the process. The contact was brief, but it landed. He caught the shift in your expressionβthe slightest flicker of something unguardedβbefore you slid the glasses back on.Β
βYouβll have to try harder,β you scoffed.
Oh, he thought. He would.
--
It started innocently enough. It always did.
Sitting in a loose circle on the fake grass by the firepit with the other nine contestants, drinks sweating in everyoneβs hands, the air just cool enough to make you forget about the camerasβuntil Lana kicked things off by pointing at Jungkook.
βTruth or dare?β
He picked truth.Β
βOkayβ¦whatβs your biggest fear?β
βMicrowaves,β Jungkook answered with no hesitation.
The circle paused for half a second before dissolving into laughter.
βDo they attack you where youβre from?β Dante jabbed.
βTheyβre unpredictable, Jungkook said seriously, like this was common knowledge. βYou put something in it, and it comes out hotter than the sun in some spots, still frozen in othersβ¦plus they hum.β
Across the circle, Jin lifted his drink and said, βTragic. Truly the silent killer of our time.β
That set the group off again, Jungkook trying and failing to keep a straight face.
From there, it stayed harmlessβMaya dared Bianca to drink champagne straight from the bottle, Namjoon admitted his most embarrassing celebrity crush (apparently, an anime character), and Yuri sang a bad karaoke song from memory.
Then Dante decided to escalate things.
He dared Bianca to kiss Namjoon. She did, lingering for just long enough to set off a wave of hollers and βoooohs.β Namjoon laughed it off, but Jin clocked the shift. The game had just crossed the line from fun to interesting.
When his turn came, he didnβt hesitate. He looked straight at you.
βTruth or dare?β
You tilted her head, eyes glinting. βTruth.β
βCoward,β he said smoothly, then: βIf you had to share a bed with someone here other than your partner, who would it be?β
Your lips curved, the smallest, most infuriating smirk. βLeo.β
Of course.
He smiled like it didnβt matter. Like he wasnβt already planning the next time he got Leo alone.Β
Your turn came around fast.
Leaning back on one hand, looking directly at Jin. βTruth or dare?β you asked him.
βDare,β he said without hesitation.
You thought for a moment, then cocked your head with mock innocence. βI dare you to take a shot off of someoneβs body.β
The circle erupted into cheers and whistles.
Jinβs eyes stayed on yours. βWhose body?β
You took a sip of your drink. βDealerβs choice.β
He didnβt look at anyone else.
The groupβs noise dimmed to background static as he leaned toward you. βDonβt move.β
He turned and pulled the tray of supplies that one of the producers had quickly snuck in off-camera. He tipped a pinch of salt into the curve of your collarbone, just enough for you to feel the brush of his fingertips, then poured tequila into the shot glass held in his other hand. Picking up the lime wedge, he held it to your mouth, cocking one brow as a challenge.
Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you silently stared him down before slowly dropping open your jaw. He smirked and pressed the wedge of citrus between your teeth.Β
He bent, his breath warm and damp against you. He hovered, letting his breath tickle your skin before curling his tongue along your collarbone. He barely pulls back to take the shot, only to surge forward and clench the lime between his own teeth, intentionally brushing his lips against yours.
He straightened, letting the group's reaction crash over them like a wave.
The dares kept coming, each bolder than the last. Dante doing a lap around the pool in a speedo; Lana giving Jungkook a lap dance that left him red to his ears; Yuri feeding Maya strawberries one at a time with her mouth.
Then Mayaβs turn came. She scanned the circle like a cat picking her prey.Β
βJin,β she said finally. βTruth or dare?β
He smirked. βDare, of course.β
βI dare youβ¦β Mayaβs smile sharpened.β...to make out with Bianca.β
The group whooped loudly. Biancaβs brows shot up in delighted surprise. She leaned forward, ready.
Jinβs eyes flicked onceβjust onceβto you beside him.
Then he smiled, slow and wicked, and turned to Bianca.
The kiss started smooth, easy, no hesitation in sight. He reached up and cupped the side of Biancaβs jaw, long fingers nearly reaching her nape. He adjusted the angle with the hold on her, the change just what was needed to deepen the kiss.Β Β
The kiss lasted several stretched-out moments before the hollers of the group broke them apart.
When he pulled back, Bianca was grinning. He was grinning. But out of the corner of his eye, he was watching you.
Your expression didnβt give him much, but your hand clenched a little tighter around your glass than before.
And that, he thought, was very interesting.
ππ£οΈ
βYou hated that game,β the producer said.Β
You let out a short laugh. βYeah. I also kind ofβ¦ didnβt.β
They didnβt respond, which was their way of saying, 'Go on.'
βIt stopped being an innocent camp game about halfway through. It became a game of chess. Everyone was sizing each other up, pushing buttons, seeing who would crack first.β
βWho cracked first?β
βNot Jin,β you said petulantly, rolling your eyes. βNot that heβd ever admit to cracking even if he was on fire.β
You shifted in the chair. βWhen I said Leoβs name, he didnβt even move, but his eyes changed, just for a second. Then it was gone. And I noticed.β
The producer hummed. βAnd the dare?β
Your mouth tugged into a reluctant smirk. βThat was deliberate. He could have picked anyone, but no, straight to me. Sure, it was just a dare, butββ you gestured vaguely toward your collarbone. βIt didnβt feel like βjust a dare.ββ
The crew waited.
βAnd then he kissed Bianca. Like it was nothing. And fineβmaybe it was. Maybe it was all just a game.β Your fingers drummed against your knee. βBut it didnβt feel the same when he was looking at me. Which is stupid.β
βWhy, stupid?β
You let out a slow breath, βBecause whatever game heβs playing, I donβt want to be the one who loses it.β
~Cut.~
The smell of toast and frying eggs dragged you out to the villaβs open-air kitchen.
Jungkook was at the stove, his hair pulled into a messy top-knot. Namjoon was attempting to make pancakes while Lana hovered behind him like a food critic. Dante was slicing fruit shirtless, for reasons that were almost certainly unnecessary.Β
And Jinβyour partner of approximately fourteen hoursβwas leaning against the counter like the morning had been handcrafted for him.
βHungry?β he asked, holding a plate like a bribe.
βI was just coming to see what the damage was,βΒ you said, eyeing the kitchen. βTurns out itβs minimal.β
βMinimal?β He glanced down at the neatly plated scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. βTis is artistry.β
βItβs breakfast,β you corrected, though the smell was making your stomach growl.
Jin stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that the othersβ chatter became background noise. βCome eat with me.β
It wasnβt really a question.
He led you away from the noise, out onto the shaded patio near the pool. Two chairs, a small table, the sound of water lapping quietly against the tiles.Β
βSecluded much?β you asked, sitting down.
βBetter view,β he said, sliding your plate toward you. Then, after a beat, βAnd fewer witnesses if you decide to like me.β
You shook your head, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips as you picked up your fork. βYou really never turn it off, do you?β
βNot when it works.β
By the time the plates were empty, the sound of voices calling from the lawn carried in through the open patio doors.
After breakfast, the producers called everyone to the lawn. A folding table waited there, covered in slips of paper and props: blindfolds, a jumble of small weights, beanbags, and a few coils of rope.Β
Beyond the table, the rest of the course stretched across the grassβa line of orange cones to weave through, a rope ladder laid flat for a quick footwork section, and at the far end, a shallow wading pool already filled with water and a few floating rubber rings.Β
βCouples Challenge!β Bianca announced in her best game-show voice. βObstacle course, timed, two people per team.β
The rules were simple: one partner was blindfolded, while the other gave directions. The blindfolded one had to collect five items scattered along the courseβsome on the ground, some in the poolβand bring them back to the table.Β
βWhoβs blindfolded?β Jin asked you.
βYou,β you said without hesitation.
βBrave choice,β he said, smirking.
It wasnβt brave so much as strategic β you wanted to see how well he listened.
The whistle blew, and he took off at your first shouted instruction, surprisingly obedient for someone who talked so much. You told him when to duck, when to reach, and when to turn left, and he hit every marker with precisionβexcept for the part where he nearly tripped into Dante during the cone section.Β
βThat was sabotage,β Jin complained, handing you the last item after splashing through the pool of water.Β
βSure it was,β you snarked, laughing as you sprinted for the finish together.
You didnβt win, Jungkook and Yuri took that, but you were still a little breathless, both from running and from how quickly youβd fallen into sync.
Ripping off the blindfold, Jin caught your eye. βTold you Iβm good at winning,β he quipped.
You smirked. βShame you didnβt this time.β
He leaned in just enough for you to hear him over the noise. βThereβs more than one way to win.β
Later in the evening, the villa had finally gone still.Β
Dinner was over, music had faded, and most of the others had either gone up to the bedroom or were sprawled out in the lounge, half-asleep in front of the TV. You were in the kitchen rinsing a glass when you heard him behind you.
βBusy?β
You didnβt bother to turn around. βWild night,β you said, setting the glass upside down to dry on the dish rack.
Footsteps padded closer, then he was leaning against the counter beside you, so close his shoulder nearly brushed yours.Β
βYou were good today,β he said.
βAt the challenge?β
βAt everything.β He let the words sit for a beat, then added, βYou make a good partner.β
You glanced at him. βEven when I make you run through a wading pool blindfolded?β
βEspecially then,β he said, lips curling.
You turned back to the sink, pretending to fuss with the tap. βGuess I should thank you for breakfast, too.β
βYou could,β he said. βOrβ¦β He leaned a little closer, voice dropping. βYou could tell me what you were actually thinking during the game last night.β
You stilled. βWhat makes you think I was thinking anything?β
βBecause I was watching you,β he said, quiet enough that the words slid under your skin. βAnd Iβm good at winning, remember?β
You met his eyes. There was a flicker thereβnot smug, not teasing, something else. You almost asked him what game he thought he was winning, but his gaze held yours too steadily, and you looked away first.
βYouβre ridiculous,β you said.
βAnd youβre avoiding the question,β he countered.
The sound of laughter from the lounge broke the moment. He stepped back just enough to let you breathe again.Β
βTomorrowβs a new day,β he said lightly. βMaybe Iβll get my answer then.β
And then he was gone, leaving you staring at the empty doorway, wondering why your heart was doing that uneven thing again.
The villa bedroom was dim except for the soft yellow glow spilling from the bathroom. Voices from the lounge drifted in through the open doorβlaughter, the muted clink of glassesβbut in here it felt slower, quieter.
Jin was already at the sink. Brushing his teeth with unhurried precision. You slipped in beside him, reaching for your own toothbrush. The counter was narrow enough that your elbows almost touched.
He caught your eye in the mirror, toothpaste foam at the corner of his mouth. βThis is romantic,β he deadpanned.
You snorted, spitting into the sink. βTry not to ruin it.β
When you both finished, you reached for the pump of foaming cleanser that the producers had lined up with everyone elseβs personal toiletries. Jin stepped back just far enough to give you room, leaning against the doorframe to watch you lather your face.
βYou take skincare seriously,β he said.
βYou donβt?β you asked, rinsing off the suds.
βOf course I do.β He moved in again, bending over the sink to splash water on his face before patting it dry with the hand towel. βThisββ he pointed between the two of youββis a joint effort.β
You reached for your moisturizer, smoothing it into your skin. Beside you, he did the same, though he was clearly using more than necessary just to make you laugh.Β
When you were done, you tied your hair into a loose knot at the crown of your head and stepped out into the bedroom in a fresh pair of pajamas, soft baby blue shorts paired with a matching cropped tank top.Β
You sigh as you approach your new bed assignment, post-coupling. If asked, though, you would never admit to feeling antsy about having to sleep next to Jin. The sheets were cool against your legs when you sat on the edge of the bed as you waited for Jin to emerge.Β
Jin came out a moment later, his powder pink pajama pants hanging low on his hips, topped with a vast expanse of bare, golden skin. βYou take the blankets,β he threw out. βI run hot.β
The dip in the mattress as he sat down on his side of the bed snapped you out of your stupor. Tearing your eyes away from his toned bare chest, you shifted back against the pillows, βI wasnβt worried about you freezing to death.β
He scoffed before slipping fully onto the bed next to you, resting back against his own set of pillows. βHow do you feel after today?β
βIt was a long day.β
βMm. Youβre thinking too hard.β
You turned your head toward him. βAnd youβre not?β
His mouth twitched. βIβm always thinking. I just donβt let people see it.β
The fan clicked softly in the silence that followed. His gaze held yours, unblinking, and for a second, it felt like he was about to say something else. Then his eyes looked to the ceiling.
βTomorrowβll be different,β he murmured.
βHow do you know?β
βI just do.β
You didnβt push. The space between you and him stayed the same, but you could feel the heat permeating from his body without touching. It made your skin hum, your breath shallow.
Eventually, he reached over and turned off the lamp.
βGoodnight,β he said into the dark.
You lay there with your eyes open, listening to the even rhythm of his breathing, and wondered if youβd still be able to sleep if he moved any closer.
π₯½
Jin decided mornings in the villa werenβt so bad.Β
The sun was warm, the coffee was strong, and everyone was too sleepy to be competitive or flirty yet. Heβd already been in the pool once, mostly to mess Jungkookβs perfectly set hair, and now he was leaning against the rail, sunglasses low, watching the place wake up fully.Β
When you stepped out from the hallway in a loose white cover-up layered over a black bikini, he spotted you instantly. The group chatter faded a little. You looked around like you were still half in a dream, and then your eyes found him.Β
βYouβre late,β he called.
βItβs nine a.m.,β you tossed back, brow lifting.
βExactly,β he replied, tossing you the sunscreen that was resting on the towel next to him. You caught it without looking away from him. Good reflexes.
The morning had that lazy, stretched-out quality of a vacation you didnβt have to pay for. A little sun, a little floating in the pool, the light flirting, the occasional burst of laughter when Dante failed to push Jungkook into the deep end. Jin stayed close enough to talk to you without making it obvious, letting the easy atmosphere work in his favor.
For a while, it almost felt like no one was playing the game.Β
By midday, the villa had shifted into that easy, slow rotationβpeople peeling away from the pool to pair off for chats, drifting back again when the conversation dried up.
Jin was leaning at the bar, sipping a glass of iced water, when Yuri passed by in a lemon-yellow bikini, sunglasses pushed up into her hair.Β
βWalk with me?β she asked, tilting her head toward the deck.
He smirked. βThat sounded dangerously close to a line.β
βOnly if you want it to be.β She glanced over her shoulder, waiting for him to follow.
He did, falling into step beside her as they wandered toward the far edge of the deck. The boards underfoot were warm from the sun; the salt tang from the ocean hung in the air.Β
βSo,β she began, β whatβs your type on paper?β
βYou first,β he said.
βI asked you.β
βWhich is why Iβm smart enough not to answer yet,β he replied, smiling when she laughed.
βAlrightβ¦ tall, funny, nice eyes.β She paused. βAnd maybe a little cocky.β
βCockyβs subjective,β he said, leaning on the railing so the wind caught his hair.Β
They traded easy lines like that until they looped back toward the main villa, where Dante was leaning against the wall waiting.
βMind if I steal him?β Dante asked Yuri.
She grinned, wiggling her brows. βBe my guest.β
Jin let Dante lead him to the side steps, where the noise of the pool faded.
βSo, you and your partnerβ¦ are you solid?β Dante asked, resting his elbows on the railing.
Jinβs smile was slight but sly. βDefine solid.β
βSolid likeβ¦ not looking elsewhere.β
Jin took a slow drink. βBetter questionβis anyone here not looking elsewhere?β
Dante chuckled, but Jinβs attention was already sliding past him, scanning the sunlit yard until he found you. Sitting under the shade, legs curled under you, laughing at something Jungkook had just said. Jin caught himself lingering on the sound a little longer than he intended.
π
The heat was reaching a point where the pool felt less like fun and more like a survival challenge. Maya plopped down beside you on the daybed, fanning herself.
βCome with me,β she said, tugging at your arm.
βWhy?β
βGirl talk. Before the boys ruin my good mood.β
You let her pull you through the villa garden, the two of you stepping around potted palms until you found a bench tucked into the far corner where the cameras had to crane to catch you.
βOkay,β she said, tucking one leg under herself. βNamjoon. Whatβs the verdict?β
You raised an eyebrow. βThe verdict on what?β
βWhether you think heβs into me, or just good at making eye contact.β
You smiled. βBoth are possible.βΒ
She groaned. βYouβre no help.β
βFine. I think heβs interested,β you said. βHe watches you when he thinks no one notices. Youβre not imagining the interest.β
That earned you a slow grin. βAlright. Iβll take it.β
By the time you made it back to the pool area, Leo was leaning against a pergola post, arms folded.
βGot a minute?β
You hesitated, then followed him toward a patch of shade by the fence.
βSo how are things with your partner?β he asked, glancing toward where Jin was talking with Dante,
βFine,β you said.Β
βFine likeβ¦ fine, or fine like youβre hoping for an upgrade?β
You laughed. βWow. Straight to it.β
βI donβt do small talk,β he said.
You tilted your head. βAnd you think Iβd tell you if I was looking for an upgrade?β
He smiled faintly. βSometimes itβs not about what you say.β
The silence that followed wasnβt uncomfortable exactlyβbut it wasn't neutral either. The pause that followed stretched just long enough for you to notice movement across the deckβJin, sunglasses in place, looking right at you.
π₯½
The morning had been moving slowly, and the heat made every movement feel like an effort. Someone was making iced coffee in the kitchen, Jungkook was starfished on a lounger, and Jin was halfway to claiming a hammock when the villa speakers crackled to life.
βIslanders, gather on the front lawn immediately.β
There was the usual groaning, but feet started shuffling across the deck toward the grass. Under the palms, a neat arc of little bistro tables waited, each with two chairs and a sand timer in the middle. Drinks sat ready, condensation sliding down the sides.Β
βThis,β Namjoon muttered beside him,β is a trap.β
βOr fun,β Jin countered, grinning.
The villa voice explained the rulesβa few minutes per partner, rotate at the bell, see who can βadaptβ the quickest. Jin decided heβd adapt just fine.
He ended up across from Yuri first. She leaned in, chin propped on her hand. βOkay, rapid-fire,β she said. βWhoβs the loudest snorer here?β
βJungkook,β he answered instantly.
She laughed. βThat was too fast. Youβve thought about this.β
βIβm living in the same space. I am just good at noticing things.β
They spiraled into a debate about shared chores until the sand ran out, her laugh still carrying as they swapped seats.
Lana was next, and she had a way of looking at people like she was already inside their heads.
βAre you here to win,β she asked, stirring her drink lazily, βor to fall in love?β
Jin tilted his head. βWhy not both?β
Her mouth curled. βDangerous answer.β
He smiled, letting the silence sit just long enough to make her shift in her seat before he changed the subject, asking about the strangest date sheβd ever been on. She was mid-story about a man who tried to sell her life insurance when the time ran out.
Before the next rotation began, the villa voice boomed: βIslanders, your next conversation might be with someone new.β
The side gate swung open.
The newcomer walked in like he owned the sunlight, wearing a sleeveless shirt and golden skin, and a smile so wide it felt like it was the sun itself. The cheers that went up were instant.
βHoseok,β the voice said, βtake the empty seat across from the islander who caught your eye first.β
The scan was quick. Twice around the group, and then his gaze landed exactly where Jin knew it would.
You.
He crossed the grass without hurry, rested a hand on the back of the chair opposite you, and sat. You smiledβa little unsure, but brightβand leaned in as the timer flipped.
Jinβs partner for the round, Maya, was already smirking at him as he sat down.
βDo you want me to start talking,β she asked, βor just let you keep staring over there?β
βPlease, talk,β Jin encouraged, dragging his eyes back, βMake it sound like youβre telling me something scandalous so it looks good for TV.β
Maya rolled with it, inventing a dramatic fake confession about stealing from a hotel minibar. She kept it going until they were both laughing, but stillβevery time the breeze shifted, Jin caught the sound of your laugh with Hoseok, and his attention was pulled like a magnet.
Rotate.
The scrape of chairs was interrupted by the gate opening again.
A new bombshell entered, a woman this time. Her orange bikini was a perfect complement to her mocha complexion.Β
βIsla,β the voice prompted, βTake a seat with the Islander you most want to get to know.β
Her eyes landed on Jin without hesitation. βYou,β she said, sliding into the chair opposite.
βSo youβre the funny one,β she said, tilting her head.
βAmong other things,β he replied smoothly.
βProve it.β
He launched into an exaggerated story about being defeated by an arcade claw machine, acting out the moment it stole his prize. You laughed loud enough to draw glances, but his gaze still drifted past her β to where you were now sitting with Jungkook, their shoulders tipped toward each other, easy smiles trading back and forth.
Rotate.
And once again, the producers held up the next round. The gate creaked open.Β
βTaehyung, join the circle.β
Jin looked up immediately. There he wasβloose linen shirt half-buttoned, hair falling into his eyes, moving with that slow confidence Jin knew too well.
βHyung,β Taehyung greeted as he passed.
βDidnβt know you were coming,β Jin replied.
βHmm. I know what you are doing. Interesting strategy youβre playing,β Taehyung shot back, already scanning the tables.
The voice directed him to choose his seat. His gaze drifted and stopped on you.
He crossed the grass, pulled out the chair opposite you, and sat.Β
Jin leaned back in his chair, a smile affixed to his face. Adaptability, huh? He had it. But this was about to become a different kind of competition entirely.
π
The villa lawn looked like something out of a catalogue-small white tables in a neat half-circle under the palms, little sand timers in the center of each, iced drinks sweating down the glass. Everyone was still adjusting their sunglasses when the villa voice finished explaining: two minutes with each partner, bell rings, rotate.
Namjoon took the first seat across from you, his long legs stretching out casually under the table.Β
βSo,β he said, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair, βbiggest red flag in a partner?β
You laughed. βI feel like I should say something deep and meaningful, butβ¦ bad texters. Itβs unforgivable.βΒ
That earned a grin. βSo if I waited three hours to replyββ
βYouβd be dead to me,β you said, pointing your straw at him for emphasis.
He chuckled, leaning in like he wanted to keep the rhythm going. βAlright, what if I sent a meme instead of words? Does that buy me time?β
βIf itβs a good one,β you allowed.
ββGoodβ is subjective,β he countered. βDo you want clever, or do you want absurd?β
βClever,β you decided.
βDangerous choice,β he said. βAbsurd memes are the backbone of any strong relationship.β
The laugh that escaped you felt unforced, and for a moment, you forgot a dozen conversations were happening around you. Over his shoulder, though, you caught a brief flash of Jinβs sunglasses as he settled at his own table, head tipping slightly like he might be looking your way. You blinked, looked back at Namjoon, and found him watching you with an amused tilt of his head.Β
βDid I lose you already?β he teased.Β
βNot at all,β you said, smiling.
βGood,β he replied, tapping the edge of your glass slightly with his fingertip. βMeans Iβve got at least another minute to impress you.β
You traded little storiesβhis worst communication fail was accidentally sending his location to the wrong group chat; yours was forgetting to reply for an entire week. He laughed so hard at that he nearly knocked over his drink just as the last grains of sand fell through.Β
Dante slid into the chair next, leaning forward on his forearms, grin sharp enough to feel like a challenge.Β
βAlright,β he said, βare you happy in your couple, or are you open to changes?β
You arched an eyebrow. βBold for two minutes.β
βTwo minutes is all Iβve got,β he shot back, unblinking.
You smirked. βIβm happy enough.β
ββEnough,β huh?β his eyes glinted. βThatβs an interesting choice of words.β
You took a slow sip of your drink, βOr maybe itβs a safe one.β
βSafeβs overrated,β he said easily.Β
There was a beat of silence before you flipped the question back on him. βWhat about you? Happy in your couple?β
βContent,β he said, then smirked. βBut Iβd be lying if I said I wasnβt curious about a few other people.β
The implication lingered just long enough to be noticed. Somewhere across the lawn, Jin laughed at something his partner saidβthe sound sharp enough that your eyes flicked toward it before you caught yourself. Danteβs grin told you he hadnβt missed it.
βInteresting,β he murmured.
βWhat?β
βNothing,β he said with exaggerated innocence. βJust making mental notes.β
Before the next partner could sit, the villa voice cut in: βIslanders, your following conversation might be with someone new.β
The side gate swung open.
Hoseok stepped through like heβd been born to make an entranceβsleeveless shirt, golden skin, that wide, bright smile that felt like the sun shining on you. A ripple of cheers and whistles went up.
βHoseok,β the voice said, βtake the empty seat across from the Islander who caught your eye first.β
You didnβt breathe for the moment it took him to look around. Twice his gaze swept the circle, and then it locked on you.
When he reached your table, he rested one hand lightly on the back of your chair before sitting, his eyes still locked on yours. βHi,β he said, his voice low and warm, βthought Iβd start strong.β
You smiled before you could stop yourself. βConfident.β
βIβm told it works for me.β he leaned in slightly, elbows on the table. βAnd it seems like it might be working right now.β
You tilted your head, pretending to weigh it up. βJuryβs still out.β
He grinned, teeth catching the sunlight. βThatβs fine. Give me two whole minutes to change their minds.β
He asked what your first impression of the villa was, and you told him the truthβthat it was surreal to be living in a postcard.
βGood answer,β he said. βMineβs that everyone here is better looking than the people I was warned about.β
βThatβs a very safe thing to say on day one,β you teased.Β
He shrugged, βIβll get bolder.β
βYou sure about that?β
His smile widened. βAbsolutely. For example, I already know youβre theΒ most interesting person here.β
You gave a short laugh, shaking your head. βYou donβt even know me.β
βIβll fix that.β His eyes were steady, deliberate. βWhatβs one thing I should know about you?β
You thought for a second. βIβm terrible at lying.β
His grin tilted. βThatβs useful.β
βHow?β
βMeans Iβll always know where I stand with you. Which is rare here.β
Somewhere in your peripheral vision, your attention is pulled again to Jin at another table, ignoring his partner to stare at you talking with Hoseok. You flicked your gaze back to Hoseok, who had noticed the split second of distraction.
βI didnβt lose you already, did I?β he asked lightly.
You shook your head quickly. βStill here.β
βGood,β he said, leaning in just a touch closer, voice dropping. βIβd hate to waste my opening round.β
Time ran out, pulling you back a fraction before you could respond.
Jungkook dropped into the chair across from you with a wide, open grin, hair a little mussed from the breeze.
βAlright,β he said, barely letting you settle before launching in, βmost embarrassing habit?β
You grinned. βSometimes I eat cereal for dinner.β
βThatβs not embarrassing,β he protested. βThatβs genius. Iβve had ramen for breakfast.β
You laughed. βSo weβre both innovators.β
βExactly,β he said, pointing between the two of you like it was official.
βSo tell me more about this fear of microwaves. I still donβt get it.β
βYup.β He nodded solemnly. βThey hum weird. And the light insideβitβs like the foodβs being interrogated.β
You snorted so hard you almost choked on your drink. βThatβs the most specific fear Iβve ever heard.β
βItβs valid!β he insisted, though his mouth twitched like he knew how ridiculous it sounded. βI just donβt trust them. Iβll use a stove. Or cold food. But those things? No.β
βThat explains a lot about villa life,β you teased. βHave you been avoiding the kitchen at night?β
βMaybe,β he said with mock shifty eyes, βOr maybe Iβm just hoping someone else will warm up my leftovers for me.βΒ
βAre you making fun of me for it?β
βI absolutely am,β you confirmed.
βGood,β he said with a wink. βBetter than pity.β
Before you could volley back, the time ran out.
Just as you began to shift toward your next partner, the producers paused the rotation.
The gate creaked open.Β
βTaehyung, join the circle.β
You looked over.
He stepped through in a loose linen shirt, half-buttoned and hanging just enough to catch the breeze, hair falling into his eyes. The smile he wore wasnβt bigβjust a slight curve that made it hard to look away. His gaze moved across the tables, unhurried, until it found you.
βGuess Iβll start here,β he said, pulling out the chair opposite you.
The moment he sat, it felt differentβslower, heavier in the air. He didnβt rush with questions. He simply looked at you, like he was reading the lines of your face before deciding where to begin.Β
βWhat would you change about this place?β he asked finally, voice low.
You tilted your head, thinking. βMore shade,β you said. βLess feeling like Iβm baking under a spotlight.β
βMm.β he glanced upward at the palm fronds overhead. βI could sit in the sun all day.β
βThen youβd have the villa to yourself,β you teased lightly.
He smiled at thatβsmall, but real. βMight be worth it.β
He asked about your ideal day off, and you described something simple. Coffee, music, no schedule. He nodded like he was filing it away. Then, βWho do you trust most here?β
You hesitated, fingers brushing the condensation on your glass. βToo early to say.β
βFair,β he said. βBut you seem like youβll know when you know.β
Somewhere over his shoulder, you caught Jinβs voiceβa laugh you recognized instantly, easy and warm. The sound tugged at you for a second before Taehyungβs eyes brought you back.
He leaned in slightly, resting his forearms on the table. βDo you always look away when youβre thinking?β
Your lips parted in surprise. βWas I?β
βYes,β he said, and for a moment it felt like heβd noticed more about you in thirty seconds than some people had all week.Β
The seconds slipped by faster than you wanted. His knee brushed yours under the tableβnot hard enough to be an accident, not soft enough to be ignored. The low hum of voices around you blurred, and the space between you felt smaller than it was.
The time ran out, but his eyes stayed on yours for one more beat before he finally leaned away.
π₯½
The tables were already being dragged back toward the villa wall by a couple of crew members when Jin stood, stretching lazily. Conversations around him had splintered into smaller groups. The new arrivals moved through them like theyβd been here all week.
Isla got to him first.
βFunny guy,β she greeted, eyes bright. βMind if I steal you for a second?β
Jin flashed a grin. βYou can try.β
She laughed, leading him to the low wall by the pool. She leaned back against the stone, arms folded loosely, as though sheβd already claimed the better position.
βSo,β Isla started, βdo you always make people laugh that easily, or was that just for me?β
βIβm adaptable,β he said smoothly, folding his arms. βSome people need charm. Some people need jokes.β
βAnd me?β
He gave a slow smile. βStill deciding if youβre worth using both on.β
She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. βDangerous talk this early.β
βYou started it,β he countered, a playful edge in his voice.
They traded lines like cards, testing each otherβs timing. She was quick, faster than most, but every so often, over her shoulder, Jin caught sight of you. Hoseok was leaning on the daybed, his arm draped casually behind you. You were smiling, the kind of smile that had weight behind it.
Islaβs voice cut back in. βWhatβs your worst habit in relationships?β
He tore his gaze away from you. βGetting bored easily,β he answered, watching her reaction.
Her brows lifted, amused rather than offended. βGuess Iβll have to keep you entertained.β
A few minutes later, Jin found Lana perched on the poolβs edge, ankles submerged, idly kicking at the water.
βYou didnβt get to finish your terrible date story from earlier,β he said, nodding toward the empty space beside her. βThought Iβd give you the floor.β
She grinned and shifted, making room. βYouβre going to love this one. He took me to a restaurant where he clearly knew the waitress, like, really knew her. And not in the βold friendβ way.β
Jin leaned back on his hands. βPlease tell me you made it awkward.β
βOh, I did,β she said proudly as she angled her body toward him further. βOrdered dessert for the three of us and asked for extra spoons, and then invited her to join us.β
He barked a laugh, picturing it in his mind. βThatβs brutal. I like it.β
They swapped a few more stories, each one more ridiculous than the last, but Jin wasnβt fully anchored in the conversation. Across the pool, you were with Namjoon now, sitting in the shade, your knees pulled up as you laughed at something heβd just said.
Lanaβs voice broke through his thoughts. βYouβre distracted.β
βAm I?β he asked lightly, though he didnβt deny it.
Her smirk suggested she knew more than she was letting on. βBetter hope whoeverβs stealing your attention isnβt as interesting as me.β
Jin gave her an easy grin, but his eyes drifted again, just for a heartbeat.
π
Hoseok caught you before youβd even pushed your chair back in toward the table.Β
βWalk with me?β he asked, already angling toward the daybeds without waiting for your answer.Β
It wasnβt really a walkβhis pace unhurried, like there was nowhere else to be. You ended up on a wide daybed, cushions soft under your legs. He sat close enough that his knee brushed yours when he turned toward you, one arm slung along the back of the cushions, casual but clearly making a statement, his fingers a hairsbreadth from touching you.Β
βBe honest,β he said, leaning closer. βWas I your favorite round?β
You smirked. There is just something about him that makes you want to smile. βCocky, much?β
βI prefer to call it confident.β He leaned a bit closer, head tilted toward you. βAnd I usually have good instincts about these things.β
βIβm not ranking anyone,β you replied, sipping your drink.
βThatβs fine,β he replied, his grin sharpening. βMeans I still get to prove it.β
You huffed a soft laugh. βYou donβt waste time, do you?β
βWhy would I?β he challenged, the answer smooth and sure. βI know what I want.β
There was no hesitation in the way he said it.
He asked about your first impressions of the villa, and you teased him about showing up late.
βYou looked calm,β you observed. βLike youβd already scoped the place out.β
βI had,β he admitted without a beat of shame. βStanding outside for a few minutes, watching the game. Figuring out who Iβd want to talk to.β
You tilted your head. βAnd you decided on me?β
The slightest pauseβdeliberateβbefore his smile widened. βI decided Iβd regret it if I didnβt.β
The villa felt strangely quiet in that moment, even with laughter and splashing somewhere nearby. You were aware of the faint scent of his cologne, the heat of his knee against yours, the way his gaze didnβt drift for even a second. Somewhere in your peripheral vision, Jin was leaning against the pool wall with Isla, but when you looked back at Hoseok, his smile deepened like he knew where he wanted your attention to be.
Later, you were the one doing the pulling.
Namjoon was standing near the kitchen island, idly mixing berries into a bowl of yogurt. You touched his arm lightly. βCome outside with me for a second?β
He followed you to the shaded end of the deck, sitting underneath a neon sign that said βSoul Ties.β
βI realized I didnβt ask you anything in our round,β you said. βSo, tell me something unexpected about you.β
He thought for a moment, then grinned. βI can juggle.β
βReally?β you asked, skeptical but smiling.
βBadly. But I can.β He mimed tossing something in the air, making you laugh.
βYouβre going to have to prove that eventually.β
βDeal,β he said easily. βBut only if you promise not to laugh too hard when I drop everything.β
There was an easy, unforced flow to the conversation; things were light and filled with teasing jabs. He told you about his habit of accidentally collecting books faster than he could read them; you confessed you once tried to grow herbs in your kitchen and killed them all within a week.
βI respect the effort,β he said with mock seriousness. βBut maybe stick to eating herbs instead of growing them.β
βNoted.β
It was comfortable and warm; the kind of chat that didnβt make your pulse spike but left you smiling. At one point, though, you glanced toward the far side of the pool and spotted Jin sitting at the edge with Lana, his grin tilted in that lazy way that was hard to read. Namjoon followed your gaze, but didnβt comment. Instead, he asked, βSo, whatβs the one thing you do want to grow here?β
You met his eyes, the question lingering between you. βWeβll see.β
π₯½
The sky was dripping in sunset, all bruised purples and tangerine streaks, the kind of backdrop producers loved. Re-emerging from inside the villa, dressed in cocktail attire, the group of people gravitated toward the large lounge area, drinks in hand. Soft lighting illuminated the deck, and the music being piped in through the hidden speakers had been shifted to an easy, lazy beat.Β
Jin claimed a corner seat early, sprawling with practiced ease, one ankle balanced on his knee. Tonight, heβd swapped his earlier shirt for a loose cream linen button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the top two buttons undone like he wasnβt even trying. He knew the look worked, and the camera guy hovering near the deck agreed.
From here, he had a clear view of the whole group without appearing to be trying.
Taehyung had everyoneβs attention, describing, with far too much hand choreography, the βonce in a lifetimeβ meal he had in Paris. People were laughing, leaning in.
Jinβs gaze skimmed past them, casualβ¦ until it landed on you.
You were curled in the corner of the couch opposite, bare legs tucked under you, the soft drape of a light blue slip dress catching the gold of the fairy lights every time you shifted. Hoseok had settled down beside you, wearing a black short-sleeve button-up shirt patterned with small white flowers, open enough to show a hint of his tan skin.
He passed you his drink without hesitation, and you accepted without a second thought.
Jinβs jaw tensed once before he masked it with a sip of his own. Not jealous. Just aware.Β
βFavorite thing about the villa so far?β Islaβs voice pulled him back. Sheβd perched on the arm of the chair, a red dress falling over crossed legs, the fabric brushing his sleeve.
βThat itβs big enough to escape bad small talk,β he replied smoothly, a slight sting laced through.
She laughed, nudging his shoulder. βAnd yet youβre still here.β
βMaybe Iβm making an exception.β His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed him for a fraction of a second, sliding past Isla to where Hoseok leaned in close, whispering something that made you laugh into his glass.Β
When Isla followed his gaze, her smile shifted. βAh,β she said lightly, βso thatβs where your attention is.β
Jin only smiled. βObservation skills like that could get you far here.β
π
The cushions dipped as Hoseok slid beside you, the faint rustle of his shirt brushing against your bare arm. He was all easy charm in a black short-sleeve button-up patterned with tiny white flowers, top buttons undone just enough to hint at the warm skin and sharp collarbones beneath.
βYou looked like you needed this,β he said, handing you a cold glass.
You wrapped your fingers around it, condensation damp against your palm. βObservant.β
βAlways.β His arm stretched along the back of the couch behind you, casual but close enough that the heat of him ghosted against your bare shoulders when you leaned back.
You smoothed the hem of your light, blue slip dress over your thighs, the fabric catching the glow of the fairy lights above. Taehyungβs voice carried across the lounge. His Paris story was absurd enough to make you cover your mouth mid-laugh.
βGood laugh,β Hoseok complimented, eyes lingering on your mouth.
βNeitherβs the view,β you replied, lips curving as his smile deepened.
Hoseok didnβt look away, and the weight of his gaze settled low in your stomach. βYou know thatβs the kind of line that makes me think youβve already picked a favorite.β
βMaybe I have,β you said with a smirk, βor maybe I just like keeping people guessing.β
He chuckled, low and warm. βGuessing can be trouble. Gives people room to imagine.β
You were about to reply when movement across the deck caught your attention. Jin was still in his corner seat, his cream linen shirt glowing under the lights, as Isla leaned in to say something in his ear. He was smilingβpolite, practicedβbut his eyes, when they lifted, locked with yours across the noise and chatter. It was only a second, but it was steady, unbroken.
Hoseok noticed the pause. βSo,β he said, angling slightly closer, βwhoβs winning in that head of yours right now?β
Your smirk deepened. βNow, why would I tell you and ruin the suspense?β
βFiine,β he said, leaning back marginally, but sliding his hand to cup your bare shoulder. βIβll just work harder.β
You hid your grin behind your sip, feeling the faint hum of adrenaline in your chest. Across the way, Jinβs gaze still hadnβt shifted away.
The conversation around the fire pit drifted from travel stories into the kind of questions that only surface when everyoneβs settled in, feeling a buzz, and with nowhere to be.
Taehyung leaned forward, grinning like heβd just thought of something brilliant. βAlright, everyone, name the most ridiculous thing youβve ever packed for a trip.β
Lana groaned. βOh no, this is going to expose people.β
Dante went first. βA juicer. Like, a full-on countertop juicer. Used it twice before airport security wanted to fight me.β
Isla shook her head, laughing. βThatβs a lot of dedication to pulp.β
Namjoon lifted a hand sheepishly. βA giant coffee table book about endangered birds. It weighs more than my entire wardrobe.β
You blinked. βForβ¦reading?β
βFor appreciating the photography,βΒ he said thoughtfully. βAnd maybe a little for company.β
Jungkook jumped in before anyone could tease him further. βA portable karaoke mic. Wireless. Echo setting and everything.β
βPlease tell me you used it,β Maya said.
βEvery single night,β he replied proudly. βAnd one morning.β
Hoseok grinned.. βMineβs a little worse. A full suite of matching pajamas for every night of a trip. Like, button-up silk sets. Three colors.β
You laughed. βDo you plan to wear them here?β
βNot yet,β he said, eyes glinting. β But maybe if youβre lucky, youβll get to see them. And if youβre nice, Iβll even let you feel them.β
All eyes turned toward you. You smoothed your dress over your hip, feeling the heat of the attention. βA glittery water bottle shaped like a pineapple. It leaks. I still love it.β
βThatβs commitment,β Jin inserted, leaning forward slightly.
βAlright, Mr. Perfect,β Taehyung said. βYour turn.β
Jin didnβt blink. βA framed photo of myself.β
Yuri stared. βThat has to be a joke.β
βNo,β he said, grinning. βIn case anyone forgets who the best-looking person in the villa is.β
The group broke into groans and laughter. You shook your head, and over your glass, you caught his gaze. He winked.
Once everyone answered, Taehyung sat back, clearly pleased with the chaos heβd created. βYup. Iβm going to start making this a daily thing.β
With that declaration, folks splinter off and head to different parts of the outdoor area. Lana and Dante drifted toward the balcony, Taehyung hooked Isla into helping him hunt for snacks in the kitchen, and Namjoon ended up with Jungkook by the pool, debating whether the inflatable swan counted as furniture.
You stayed on the couch, idly running your finger along the condensation on your glass. Hoseok shifted, moving a little closer as he turned toward you, his knee now resting solidly against your thigh.
βSo,β he said, voice low enough that it felt separate from the ambient noise around you. βDo you always steal the spotlight like that?β
You gave him a look. βPretty sure you and your silk pajama confession got just as much attention.β
He smiled slowly. βMaybe. But I noticed more people were watching you than laughing at my joke.β
It was smooth, and you felt the warmth creep onto your cheeks before you could stop it.
Before you could reply, movement caught your attention. Jin had skirted around the fire pit and slipped into the empty spot next to you. He leaned back, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne.
βAm I interrupting?β Jin asked, his tone playful and teasing, which could be interpreted as either polite or pointed.
Hoseokβs smile didnβt falter. βNot at all. We were just about to swap more travel stories.β
Jinβs gaze flicked between you and Hoseok, lingering half a second too long on the way Hoseokβs arm was curled around you. βSoundsβ¦cozy.β
βItβs called conversation,β Hoseok said, still smiling, but his tone had a playful bite.
You raised a brow. βDonβt tell me youβre jealous of travel stories now.β
βJealous?β Jin let out a soft laugh, shifting slightly closer and resting his hand on your thigh right above your knee. βNo. Just making sure youβre getting the full villa experience.β
Hoseok glanced up at him, his smirk tightening at the edges. βSheβs in good hands.β
βAre you?β Jin asked you, and this time the question was pointed enough to shift the vibe in the air.
You felt your own smile tug wider despite yourself. βI think I can decide that for myself, thanks.β
βThatβs fair,β Jin said, eyes still resting on you. βBut if you ever want the upgraded experienceβ¦β
Hoseokβs hand tightened ever so slightly where it cupped your shoulder. βYouβd have to convince her itβs worth the switch.β
Jinβs lips curved, not backing down. βOh, I plan to.
Neither of them broke eye contact, the moment stretching until you awkwardly laughed, the abrupt sound just enough to break the tension without dissolving it entirely. But you could feel the gauntlet that had been thrown down.
Before either of them could push further, Mayaβs voice rang out from near the bar. βHey! You guys need to see this. Dante found something!β
You turned to spot Dante holding a bright orange envelope, as if it were radioactive. Jungkook was beside him, already trying to pry it open, grinning like a kid about to break the rules.Β
βIt was under one of the beanbags,β Dante said, looking half-amused, half-suspicious. βAnd it says Villa Secrets in big letters.β
βThatβs either amazing or terrifying,β Maya said, tucking her hair behind her ear, βand either way, weβre opening it.β
Around you, everyone began to gather in lazy groups around the white bar. Hoseok stood first, extending a hand to you without hesitation.
You took it, feeling the easy strength of his grip as he pulled you up. Jin fell into step on your other side, his arm brushing yours in a casual, but not accidental, way.
Neither man spoke, but their awareness of each other was sharp enough to feel like static in the air.
By the time you reached everyone else, Jungkook had already ripped open the envelope and unfolded the card inside. His grin turned wicked. βOh yeah,β he said, glancing around the circle forming, βthis is gonna stir things up.β
Jungkook held the card up as if it were a sacred text. βAlright. Villa Secrets is simple. The producers have sent us anonymous confessions about the people in this villa. We read one out loud, then the group has to guess who itβs about.β
βSounds like trouble,β Maya said, grinning.
βThe best kind,β Yuri countered, settling onto a barstool.
Jungkookβs phone chimes. Flipping it open, he read, βThis person once pretended to be fluent in Italian for an entire date.β
Dante immediately pointed at Maya. βThatβs you.β
Maya laughed. βNo, but Iβm impressed. Who was it?β
βGuilty,β Yuri admitted, hand raised. βI knew how to say help, thank you, and pizza. That was it.β
The group laughed. Someone elseβs phone chimed. Taehyung straightened up, pulling his phone out. βThis person once took over 200 selcas before picking one to post.β
The group groaned and laughed before anyone guessed.
βThatβs Jin,β Maya said, shaking her head.
Jin shrugged. βTwo hundred and six, actually. You canβt rush art.β
βThis person got banned from a hotel for trying to adopt the lobbyβs parrot.β Dante read out from his phone.
βLeo,β several people said at once.Β
Leo grinned sheepishly. βIt liked me first. I was just returning the energy.β
The following few confessions drew a mix of groans and laughter. Dante once accidentally mooned a crowd while cliff diving, Maya had broken her wrist during a drunken conga line, and Jungkook had been caught crying over a cartoon finale.Β
Hoseokβs phone chimed next. βThis person once got caught sneaking into a wedding for the free cake.β
βLana,β you offered.
Lana sighed dramatically. βThe cake was average. The champagne, howeverβ¦β She trailed off with a mischievous smile.
Itβs your turn next. βThis person travels with their miniature disco ball.β
βTaehyung.β Jin inserted without hesitation.
Taehyung grinned. βNever know when a dance floor might break out.β
Then Isla read one that shifted the air. βThis person once kissed someone less than an hour after meeting them, and it happened on this very island.β
The group erupted instantly.Β
βNo way!β Maya gasped.
βThatβs fast work,β Dante said, laughing.
βToo fast,β Yuri chimed in, βunless it was a dare.β
βOr unless it was them,β Leo said, his eyes darting between you and Hoseok.
That earned a fresh round of goading. Maya leaned forward. βWait. You two have been looking awfully chummyβ¦β
Hoseok didnβt break his smile. βIβm flattered, but Iβm not saying a word.β
βThatβs suspicious,β Jungkook said, pointing at him.
βSuspicious would be denying it too fast,β Hoseok replied easily, his gaze sliding to you for a heartbeat before he looked away.
You raised your hands in mock innocence. βDonβt look at me. Iβve barely had time to unpack.β
βSure,β Maya drawled, but she was grinning.
Across the circle, Jin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. βFeels like someoneβs dodging the question,β he said lightly, though his eyes didnβt leave Hoseok.
βThatβs the game,β Hoseok said, his tone smooth.
Jungkook tapped his fingers against the bar. βThe producers say weβre not allowed to reveal the answer. Guess weβll have to keep an eye on you two.β
Yuri sat forward, looking at her phone. βThis person says theyβve already got their eye on someone in the villa, but they havenβt made a move yet.β
The circle immediately lit up with guesses. βItβs Jin,β someone called out. βDefinitely Jin.β
βOr Hoseok,β Maya countered.
βOr her,β Yuri challenged, gesturing in your direction with a sly grin, making everyone laugh.
You held your hands up. βWhy am I suddenly a suspect?β
Jinβs smile was slow. βWhy arenβt you denying it?β
The group oohed. Hoseok chuckled low. βGuess weβll have to wait and see.β
Jungkook played a small drumbeat against the bartop. βGame over, people... Go cause trouble somewhere else.β
π₯½
The game broke apart in a swirl of laughter and teasing. People scattered: Lana dragged Yuri toward the kitchen, Leo headed for the pool with Dante, and Jungkook raided the fridge with Isla.
Hoseok lingered close to you, and Jin could see the intent in his body language that Iβm about to pull you for a chat move. Heβd done it enough times himself to recognize it a mile away.Β
Not tonight.
He stepped in before Hoseok could get a word out, sliding into your space with a grin like this was the most natural thing in the world. βWalk with me?β
Your brows lifted, but the corner of your mouth tugged upward. βWhere to?β
βSomewhere more private,β he said, and when you laughed, he counted that as his first win. He caught the flash of Hoseokβs expression out of the corner of his eye as you nodded and fell into step beside him.
They crossed the deck, the low hum of conversation fading behind them, until they reached the far end of the villaβa quiet nook with a view of the ocean, lit only by the glow from the pool and the moon overhead.Β
βBetter,β Jin said, leaning one shoulder against the railing. βNo one here to throw accusations about who kissed who.β
You smiled faintly, arms folding. βYouβre still thinking about that round?β
βThinking?β His gaze dropped, then came back up to meet yours. βNo. Just making sure no one else gets to write our version of the story.β
Your laugh was softer this time, but it lingered. βAnd what version is that?β
He tilted his head. βThe one where we actually get to talk without ten people shouting guesses in the background.β
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint rush of the tide below and the occasional burst of laughter from the firepit. Your eyes held his just long enough for him to feel the pull in his chest.Β
He stepped closer, not enough to crowd, but enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. βYou have this look,β he said quietly, βlike youβre already deciding whether Iβm worth the trouble.β
βAm I wrong to?β you asked, voice low.
He smiled slowly. βThat depends. Do you like trouble?β
Your breath caught, just barely, and he noticedβthe kind of detail he never missed.Β
For a beat, the air between you was thick with something unspoken. He could have leaned in right then, closed the gap. But instead, he let the moment hang, just long enough to make it clear that if anything happened, it wouldnβt be by accident.
βCareful,β you murmured, though your tone wasnβt warning so much as daring.
βNot really my style,β he murmured.
Your lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and that was all the invitation he needed.
He closed the last few inches, the faintest brush of his mouth against yours at first, testing, giving you room to pull back if you wanted to. You didnβt. Instead, angled toward him, your breath warm against his cheek before your lips met fully.Β
The kiss was unhurried but sure, his hand lifting to rest at the side over your neck, thumb brushing along your jaw as if he wanted to memorize the shape of it. The distant noise of the villa faded entirely, just the quiet rhythm of the tide somewhere below. His fingers flexed along your neck as you leaned in, angling your head further, inviting him to deepen the kiss.Β
An invitation he readily accepted, a hand curved around your hip and pulled you closer. Your torsos aligned from shoulders to hips as he teased his tongue along the seam of your lips, smirking when he felt your breath catch in your throat.
With one last nip to your lip, he drew back, but didnβt move far.Β He rested his forehead against yours. βSee?β he said softly. βMuch better without an audience.β
Your laugh was breathless, the air buffeting his cheeks, your hands running lightly up and down his arms.
Before anything more could be said, a burst of noise from over by the firepit broke the pocket of quiet youβd carved out. Jin stepped back slowly, reluctantly, his hands sliding away.
βGuess we should get back before they send a search party,β he quipped, though the grin tugging at his mouth told you he had no regrets about being found like this.
π
The sound of the firepit chatter was still distant when you started walking back with Jin, but the kiss was closerβright there, in the lingering warmth along your lips, in the faint tingle at your jaw where his thumb had been.
He walked beside you like nothing was out of the ordinary, one hand in his pocket, the other brushing against yours just enough to remind you it was there. It wasnβt accidental. Jin didnβt do accidental.
βBack in one piece,β he said lightly, as though youβd just returned from a supply run instead of slipping off to make out under the moon.Β
You huffed a laugh, but your mind was still replaying the slow lean-in, the way heβd said βMuch better without an audience.β That line was going to live in your head rent-free whether you like it or not.
The glow from the firepit grew stronger, voices sharpening into distinct conversations. You spotted Hoseok almost immediately, leaning back on the daybed, laughing at something Maya had said. Before you could look away, his eyes cut toward you the second you stepped into the light.
They lingered there.
Your pulse jumped. You werenβt sure if it was guilt, satisfaction, or something in between, but you didnβt look away until Jinβs voice pulled your attention back.
βWant a drink?β he asked, already steering you toward the bar.
It wasnβt lost on you that this meant walking past Hoseok. Not a coincidence. Not with Jin.
π£οΈ
βI wasnβt expecting that tonight. At all.β
You pause, pressing your lips together for a second, like you can still feel his there. βItβs not like I didnβt see it coming. Jinβs been circling all day, but thereβs a difference between teasing someone and actually doing something about it.β
You glance off camera, like youβre checking if the producers are going to push you for details. βAnd okay, yeah, I kissed him back. I wanted to. Heβs confident. In a way thatβs annoying and unfairly attractive at the same time.β
A small laugh slips out before you shake your head. βBut itβs been, what? A few days? Less? And now Hoseokβs here, and heβsβ¦β You trail off, leaning back in the chair. βHeβs different. In contrast, Jin is cocky and self-assured. Hoseokβ¦ I donβt knowβ¦ is bold.β You shake your head. βI donβt have the word, but there is just this magnetism about him, and I want to explore that too. And I know Jin has noticed.β
You tap your fingers lightly against the armrest, thinking. βSo now Iβm wondering if Jin is just trying to win? Or was that kiss something more than strategy? Because if it was a strategyβ¦β
You smile faintly, almost to yourself. βHeβs playing a risky game.β
~Cut.~
The sun was already streaming across the villa deck by the time you padded into the kitchen, still damp from the shower. Your skin glowed from the body moisturizer that was laced with the fairest hint of gold rubbed into your skinβa shine that complemented your dark green monokini you had donned. The smell of coffee hung in the air, and the sizzle of something frying came from the stove.Β
Jin was at the stove, flipping an omelet in the skillet with one handβsuch a show-offβwhile sipping from a mug filled with steaming coffee. Of course, he looked like a cooking show hostβeven in loose grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, hair a little mussed.
βMorning,β he said as he spotted you stepping into the open-air kitchen. He didnβt disguise the obvious once-over he gave you, and you couldnβt deny the warmth that made your skin tighten just a little. βI didnβt want to wake you when I got up, but didnβt think youβd sleep this late.β
βThreat or promise?β you asked, heading toward the fridge.
βPromise,β he said without missing a beat, and the corner of his mouth curved like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Before you could fire back, Hosekβs voice came from the entryway. βThought Iβd missed breakfast duty.β He stepped in barefoot, hair swept casually back, wearing another loose linen shirt half-buttoned and shorts.
Jin didnβt turn, but you caught the tightening in his shoulders. βThereβs still plenty to do,β Jin said, a little too cheerily.
Hoseok smiled, and before passing you, he curled his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug. The hug felt like a warm blanket and, for some reason, seemed just right. He started to pull back, but before stepping away, he pressed his lips to your cheek, leaving a soft kiss.Β
βIβll handle the coffee. You look like you need the good stuff.β Hoseok teased.Β
You opened your mouth to answer, but your brain had stuttered to a stop, fixating on the lingering feel of his lips against your cheek. He was already at the coffee maker before your brain kicked back into action. Your cheeks were warm with heat as Jin cracked an eggshell a little too hard.Β
The three of you moved around each other in the kitchen, the conversation artificially light, but the awareness thick enough that you didnβt miss how both of them kept angling toward youβone with his quick wit and sideways glances, the other with quiet attentiveness.Β
By the time everyone else trickled in, you were already wondering how much was about you, and how much was about them trying not to blink first.
The kitchen had been a slow dance around mugs and plates; Jin slid an omelet in front of you, Hoseok set coffee by your hand, both of them making a point of being in your space without colliding.Β
Youβd kept your head down, smiling where it seemed safe to smile, but there was no missing the way Jinβs tone had shifted when Hoseok joined you, or the way Hoseokβs laugh kept landing a little too close to your ear.
When the others drifted in, the moment finally broke. You stood, carrying your mug toward the daybeds to escape the bustle, but Hoseok was already leaning against the doorway, waiting.
βCome with me for a minute,β he said quietly. Hoseok seemed to be making a habit of not asking, but rather telling you what you were going to do.
You hesitated just long enough to catch Jin glancing over from the stove. He didnβt call after you, but the flicker in his expression said heβd noticed.Β
Hoseok led you past the pool, with a hand on your lower back, down the side path to the corner of the garden where the cameras still reached, but the othersβ chatters didnβt. The bench was warm in the morning sun, and he waited for you to sit before taking the spot beside you.
He stretched one arm along the backrest, turning enough that his knee rested on your thigh. βYou and Jin seemβ¦ comfortable.β
You cocked your head. βYou sound jealous.β
βIβm not jealous,β he said. And it was true in the way he saidβcalm, confident. βI just donβt like wasting time.β
You blinked. βTime doing what?β
His lips curved slowly. βThis.β
Before you could respond, his hand slid from the backrest to the side of your neck, fingers curling just enough to hold you without pressure. He didnβt lean in all at once, just enough so you could feel the edge of his breath against your cheek, so you knew exactly what was about to happen.
Your pulse spiked. You shouldβve leaned away, but you donβt.
He closed the gap, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was nothing like Jinβs. No slow build, no testing the watersβjust a smooth, sure claim, his other hand bracing against the bench beside your thigh.
The world shrank to the heat of his mouth and the faint scrape of stubble along your skin. When he pulled back, it was by inches, his thumb brushing once along your jaw before he let go entirely.
βSee?β he said, his voice low, almost conversational. βNot jealous. Just making sure Iβm not standing still while someone else moves ahead.β
Your breath was still uneven, and you hated that he could probably tell. βThatβs one way to put it.β
He leaned back, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. βItβs the only way I know how to move.β
π₯½
He hadnβt been looking for her.
Not really.
That was what he told himself as he drifted out of the kitchen, mug in hand, pretending he was stretching his legs. The others were inside. Bianca was trying to convince Jungkook to eat something green, and Yuri was perched on the counterβeasy noise to walk away from.
The garden path was quiet, just the sound of the pool filter humming. Then he turned the corner and saw them.
You were sitting back on the bench. Hoseok leaned in, one hand at her neck, the other braced against the seat like he owned the whole damn thing. The kiss wasnβt extended, but it was long enough. Enough to make Jin stop mid-step.
For a half-second, his brain took a snapshot: the angle of Hoseokβs head, the way her fingers curled faintly against the bench. Then the heat hitβa low, quick burn in his gutβand he made himself move before they noticed him standing there.
He cleared his throat loudly enough. βMorning cardio?β
They broke apart, and he caught the faint flush along her cheek. Hoseok didnβt move far, just sat back with that easy smile that made Jinβs hand itch.
βSomething like that,β Hoseok said.
Jin smiled. βShouldβve said. Iβd have brought a stopwatch.β
He kept walking before either of them could answer, but he knew the cameras had caught it; the smile, the line, the way he gripped his mug just a little too tightly.
π£οΈ
βSoβ¦β He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms loosely. βI took a walk in the garden this morning, thinking maybe Iβll check the weather, maybe Iβll find a nice quiet spot for me to finish my coffee.β
He grinned, all teeth. βTurned out the weatherβs fine. Sunny. Warm. Bit of a breeze. And apparently, very romantic, because guess who I found making use of the scenery?β
He held up a finger, pointing at himself. βNot me.β
The grin stayed, but his tone shifted just a hair. βLook, itβs the villa. People are going to talk, theyβre going toβ¦ mingle.β His hands made a vague gesture. βBut thereβs mingling, and then thereβsβ¦ whatever that was. And if someoneβs trying to run up the scoreboard after only a few days, wellββ
He tipped his head, that slow, knowing smile curled back into place. βGame on.β
~Cut.~
ππ£οΈ
βI donβt really know what to do right now.β
You let out a breath that turned into a laugh, but itβs short and uneven. βBecause yesterdayβliterally yesterdayβJin kissed me. And that wasβ¦ good. Like, scarily good. Heβs funny, heβs confident, heβs been making it very clear that heβs interested.β
You shifted in the chair, tucking your hair behind your ear. βAnd then this morning, Hoseok pulls meβright after breakfast, like he didnβt waste a secondβ and he kissed me. Completely different. No slow lead-up, no teasing. He just went for it. And I kissed him back.β
Your gaze dropped for a moment, and you smiled faintly to yourself. βI donβt think Iβm the type to play both sides, but itβs hard to ignore that Iβm attracted to both of them for completely different reasons.β
You glanced back toward the camera. βThe problem is, they both know it now. And if theyβre as competitive as I think they areβ¦β You shook your head, lips pressing together. βThis is going to get messy.β
~Cut.~
By late morning, most of the villa had gathered around the pool. Sun loungers were scattered with towels, music drifted from the speakers by the bar, and someone had dumped a tray of fruit and pastries on a nearby table.
You claimed a spot on one of the loungers, sunglasses sliding into place as you stretched out. Hoseok was already there, leaning against the backrest next to you, legs stretched long. Heβd changed into a white tank and swim shorts, and the sun caught on the gold chain around his neck.
It was an easy conversation, light and teasing, until Jin strolled over.
He carried a glass of something iced, condensation running down the side, and dropped onto the empty lounger on your other side. He didnβt say anything at first, just tipped his sunglasses down enough to glance at you before pushing them back into place.
βComfortable?β he asked, tone smooth and even, but there was a weight under it that made your skin warm.
βVery,β you said, trying not to shift under the attention coming from both directions.Β
Maya wandered past with Yuri in tow, slowing just enough to clock the seating arrangement. βOoh,β she said, drawing out the syllable. βCozy corner over here.β
It was subtle, the way the air shifted; the kind of change you felt more than saw. Even Bianca, draped over the daybed across the pool, glanced up from her phone.
You reached for your drink, primarily for something to do, and tried to steer the conversation in a less obvious direction. βSo whatβs the plan for the day?β
βWhatever you want,β Jin said.
βSame,β Hoseok added, his knee brushing yours.Β
You were starting to think Mayaβs and Yuri's βtriangle cornerβ comment might end up being the understatement of the summer.Β
The villa chatter bubbled around you. Jungkook argued with Leo about whether the pool was cold, andΒ Yuri was trying to teach Maya a clumsy bit of choreography by the kitchen. And you were in your corner with two very competitive men.
The tension was palpable, like an impending storm on the verge of breaking.
Namjoon wandered over from the bar, drink in hand, sunglasses perched on top of his head. He stopped just short of your loungers, taking in the sight of you wedged between Jin and Hoseok.
βAlright,β he said slowly in that way people do when theyβre about to stir the pot on purpose, βSo whichΒ one of you is actually winning here?β
The words landed like a bomb. Conversations nearby dipped, and a couple of heads turned.
βWinning what?β you asked, feigning cluelessness.
Namjoon smirked. βPlease, Iβve been here long enough to see theββ he gestured vaguely between the three of youβ--vibe.β
Jin's mouth curved, but his sunglasses hid his eyes. βPretty sure the only competition is who makes the better omelet.
βOr coffee,β Hoseok added smoothly.
βOr who gets pulled first,β Namjoon countered, clearly enjoying himself.
You could feel the subtle shift of Jinβs arm on his loungerβnot touching you, but closer than it had been a moment ago. Hoseok, meanwhile, didnβt move, just let his knee stay pressed lightly against yours like he was making a point.
Mayaβs voice floated over from her spot near the pool. βIf this is the triangle corner, I want front-row seats when it turns into a soap opera.β
βWouldnβt that be giving the people exactly what they want?β Jin asked, his voice calm, almost bored.
Hoseokβs smile ticked upward. βDepends on who the people are rooting for.β
You took a long sip from your drink, hoping the sunglasses hid the fact that your pulse was doing double-time. This wasnβt subtle anymore, and judging by the looks being exchanged across the pool, the whole villa knew.
π₯½
The first ping came from somewhere near the firepit. A beat later, Yuriβs voice rang out:Β
βI GOT A TEXT!β
The villa stilled. Even Jungkook resurfaced from the water where he was swimming in the deep end.Β
Yuri cleared her throat, reading in a mock-serious tone: βIslanders, tonight there will be a recoupling. The girls will choose which boy they want to be paired with. The boy who is left single will be dumped from the villa. #GirlsChoice #PackYourBags.β
Laughter, nervous whoops, a few strategic disappearances for βquick chats.β Jin didnβt move. His gaze had already found you across the deckβhead tipped toward Maya, smile in place, shoulders set a little tighter than usual. Hoseok was nearby, relaxed as a picture, watching without appearing to be watching.
The afternoon blurred into the soft click of plans setting. When the sun slid low, the villa transformed into two worlds: the girlsβ dressing room, bright with mirrors and perfume, and the boysβ room, a cooler hum of cologne and quiet adjustments. Jin stood at the mirror, fastening cuff buttons on a dark shirt, the linen lying clean across his broad shoulders. In the reflection, Jungkook is smoothing his hair for the third time, Namjoon fixing a watch he didnβt need, Leo spritzing cologne and walking through it like mist. Taehyung rolled his sleeves with a casual precision; Dante practiced a grin that didnβt quite land. Hoseok leaned against the wall, loose and unreadable.
A glimpse through the open door caught Jin off guardβIsla gliding past in a slip of champagne silk; Biancaβs braid falling over one shoulder; and then your earrings catching the light, dress skimming the line of her thigh. He looked away before he had to admit heβd been staring.
They filed to the fire pit as the sky turned violet. Flames licked the air; cameras watched like silent observers. The host stood in the glow, smile even.
βGirls, tonight itβs your choice,β she started. βOne by one, youβll step forward, tell us why, and make your decision. Bianca, youβre up first.β
Biancaβs chin lifted as she stood. βIβd like to couple with someone who surprised me today,β she said, voice steady. βHeβs calmer than I expected, but thereβs a spark under it.β Her eyes cut to the boys. βTaehyung.β
Taehyungβs mouth crooked, and he walked over to her in a few long strides. Polite applause. A seat taken.
βLana.β
Lana smiled and stood, a little wicked. βI want the boy who makes everything feel like a caper,β she said. βLeo.β
Leo whooped, because of course, and jogged over. Applause again.
βYuri.β
Yuri tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. βThe one who made me laugh until I snorted and then didnβt make it weird.β A breath. βJungkook.β
Jungkook tried not to grin too big and failed.
βMaya.β
Maya exhaled, then squared her shoulders.βI want to couple up with this boy as he is thoughtful, and he always listens.β Her gaze landed where Jin expected. βNamjoon.β
Namjoonβs relief looked like a smile he tried to hide but couldnβt.
The host turns and gestures to you, signaling that it was her turn.
Jinβs spine straightened before he could stop it.
She stood up, firelight threading gold through her hair. βFrom the moment he walked in, he was confident without being pushy,β she said, calm but not casual. βHe makes me laugh, and I want to see what happens if we give this a real chance.β Her eyes moved past Jin and stayed there. βHoseok.βΒ
Hoseokβs grin was wide and bright. He moved toward her in long, eager strides. Without a hint of hesitation, he gathered her in his arms and swept her into a fierce kiss that left them both breathless. Parting, their fingers laced together, and they took their seats. The flameβs reflection ran along the curve of her cheek. Jin let his jaw loosen and kept his face easy. Beneath it, heat pooled low and mean.
βIsla.β
Isla stood up last, silk skimming her knee as she moved. She didnβt rush. βIβd like to couple with someone who makes me laugh and who, if Iβm honest, Iβd like to peel back a few layers.β Her mouth tilted. βJin.β
A ripple of noise. He rose, met her halfway, pressed a palm lightly to her back as they turned. He felt Hoseokβs gaze brush him from across the firepit, and he did not look back.
The host waited for the sound to settle. βThat leaves one boy single tonight.β She turned. βDante, you were not chosen. Iβm sorry, but your time in the villa has come to an end. You have thirty minutes to say your goodbyes, pack your belongings, and leave.β
For a moment, only the fire spoke. Then cloth rustled as everyone stood. Hugs happened in little burstsβquick and sincere. Dante clapped Jinβs shoulder, made a joke that didnβt land, squeezed Jungkook like a kid brother, and told Yuri to win the whole show for him. And then he was gone down the path, the villa swallowing the sound of his footsteps.
The remaining couples resettled. Bianca leaned in to say something that made Taehyungβs eyes crease. Islaβs perfume lifted when she shifted beside Jin; he kept his posture open, his smile easy.
Across the flames, Hoseok tipped his head toward you to murmur something Jin couldnβt hear.
She gave him a small private smile.
Hoseok looked up and met Jinβs eyes across the fire. He didnβt smirk. He didnβt need to.
The hostβs voice drifted back in. βIslanders, enjoy the rest of your evening.β
β Β summary: jungkook, the worldβs most famous quarterback, reunites with his high school crush, you. and he discovers that his crush was reciprocated all along.
β Β pairing: dad!jungkook x librarian!fem. readerΒ
β Β genre: friends to lovers, football au, angst, fluff, and smut
all parts contain mature content | 18+ | warnings listed in each part
installment 1: ALWAYS LOVE
β€· when the worldβs most famous quarterback walks into your quiet little library, your heart skips a beatβor maybe two, especially when itβs jungkook, your high school crush. eleven years have passed, but your feeling havenβt faded, not even a little. what you never expected? he felt the same way all alongβ¦ and now, everything you left unsaid is coming back to the surface.
installment 2: WILD LOVE (coming soon)
β€· now that you and jungkook are fully aware of your reciprocated feelings, itβs like you canβt keep your hands off each other, especially after all these years. everything is wilder, more intense, more consuming than you ever imagined. but passion comes with a weight. heβs constantly worried about you, while you canβt shake the fear of being a constant burden. and when your relationship starts spilling into the public eye, youβll both have to face the question: can you handle love this fierce without burning alive?
β₯ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.
genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au , pregnancy au
β¦ Jungkook x y/n
β¦ word count ; 200k | 18+
β¦ status : complete
SUMMARYα° youβve never really liked jungkook. heβs annoying, reckless, knows exactly how to get under your skin and oh β did you mention annoying? but when a panicked lie leaves you scrambling for a fake boyfriend, heβs suddenly your best β and only β option. whatβs the worst that could happen... right?
PAIRING... jeon jungkook x f!reader
GENRE/WARNINGS... 90s au, frenemies to lovers, fake dating, jkβs kind of a fuckboy, vmin is a side couple, a few cliches, all characters are adults!!, crack/humour, fluff, angst, explicit sexual content, swearing, other chapter specific warnings
jimin was always your safe place, but you never noticed him. Not when you were kids or when you broke his heart in silence. Now years later, jimin is still by your sideβwatching, waiting, loving you quietly even as you fall for the wrong people. Soon... heated moments and stolen touches ignite something deeper, but is it too late to rewrite your story and embrace the love you've been blind to all along?
pairing β dom!jimin x sub!femreader
genre β college au, childhood friends to lovers, friends with benefits, literally idiots to lovers, slowburn, coming of age, unrequited love, one sided love, second chance, pining, forced proximity, longing and yearning, romance, comedy, drama, angst, smut, fluff
warnings β 18+, explicit sex scenes, mature themes, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, heartbreak, jealously and insecurity, argument and miscommunication, love confessions and confrontation, healing and self-acceptance, violence and physical harm, fear of rejection, dark aspects, mental health themes, smoking and drinking, each chapter contains their individual warnings (reader discretion is advised due to the potentially triggering content)
β§Β SUMMARY:Β It was supposed to be one night, one lap, one bag secured. But Min Yoongi doesnβt play like the othersβhe watches like he sees you, listens like he means it, and touches like he has no intention of letting go. But forever doesnβt come easy for youβand if falling for him means facing every part of yourself you swore youβd never let anyone touch? Youβre going to have to figure out if itβs worth it.
β§Β TAGS:Β smut, fluff, angst, agust d but make it ginger!yoongi, stripper!reader (warnings listed for each individual chapter)
synopsis. yoongi invites you over to his studio to listen to the new stuff he's been working on.
pairing. bts οΉ’ min yoongi x reader οΉ’ hot
wordcount. 700
warnings. heavy makeout session, sexual tension so thick you could record it in stereo, teasing, lap-sitting, hair-pulling, hands under clothes, yoongi being a massive tease, suggestive content (but no full smut), profanity, intense eye contact that should be illegal
You shouldnβt be here.
Not because youβre not allowedβYoongi invited you, his own fingers flying over the keypad at midnight, asking if you were up.
But because being in his spaceβhis kingdom of dim lights and cables and soundproof wallsβis dangerous.
It smells like him. Clean, musky, something a little addictive. The desk is cluttered with headphones, old lyric sheets, iced coffee cups with lipstick thatβs definitely not yours. Thereβs an extra hoodie draped over the back of the couch, and youβre not even halfway in before heβs already looking up at you with that lazy, devastating smile.
βHey,β he says, voice low, a little hoarse from hours of humming to himself. βDidnβt think youβd actually come.β
You lift a brow, kicking the door shut behind you. βWhen have I ever not come when you called?β
Heβs so stupidly casual about it. Like the two of you havenβt been toeing a line for monthsβmidnight texts, inside jokes, brush-of-the-hand kind of tension. Youβre his friend. His non-idol friend. No stylists. No rules. Just you, standing in his cave of beats and neon glow, pretending this is all totally normal.
βYou said you wanted my opinion,β you remind him.
He swivels in his chair, nodding toward the monitor. βRight. Yeah. Come listen.β
You slide in beside him, knees brushing, and try to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.
The track is slow. Seductive. Laced with synths and bass and something that feels like skin on skin. It builds and dips, not aggressiveβjust smooth, hypnotic, the kind of rhythm youβd move to in a dark room with someoneβs hand on your waist and your heart in your throat.
Halfway through, you swallow. βYoongi... this isβ¦β
βToo much?β he asks, looking at you sideways.
βNo,β you whisper. βItβs good. Like. Ridiculously good.β
You donβt say sexy, but the word sits there between you anyway.
He smirks. βYeah?β
βYeah.β
The silence that follows is loaded.
Your heart does that stupid flutter it always does around himβthe kind you try to ignore, until he does something like reach over you to hit a key, hand brushing your thigh, breath ghosting your cheek.
You freeze.
He doesnβt move.
Then his voice, just above a whisper: βWanna know what I was thinking about when I made it?β
You nod, slow. βTell me.β
His eyes drop to your mouth. βYou.β
Your lungs stop functioning. βMe?β
Yoongi shrugs one shoulder, like itβs nothing. Like he didnβt just crack the earth in half.
βNot in a weird way,β he says. βJustβ¦ the way you looked the other night. When we were at that bar and you laughed at something I said. I went home andββ he breaks off, then huffs a laugh. βI started layering sounds and it justβ¦ came out like this.β
You blink. βYou wrote a song because I laughed?β
βYou looked at me when you did it.β
Your stomach flips so violently itβs dizzying.
He doesnβt give you a chance to speak. Just shifts, slow and certain, reaching out to tug you by the wrist. You stumble forward instinctively, hands bracing on the arms of his chair.
Next thing you know, you're in his lap.
Straddling him.
βYoongiββ you start, but your voice cracks, and youβre not even sure what you were gonna say. Donβt? Stop? Kiss me already?
Heβs looking up at you like youβre the chorus he never quite finishes.
So he kisses you.
And godβitβs devastating. All tongue and teeth and heat, hands on your thighs, under your shirt, dragging you closer like he wants to wear you. Your fingers twist in his hair, yanking a sound from him that goes straight to your core.
You grind down without thinking.
He groans.
The chair creaks.
βFuck,β he mutters against your mouth, his breath ragged. βYou canβtβdo thatβunless weβre planning to take this way further.β
You lean in, licking into his mouth with a grin. βI didnβt think this was just a listening party. Did you?β
He laughs, breathless, dark. βOh, you're a minx.β
You kiss him again.
Deeper.
And in the background, the instrumental loops again.
Your laughterβs not in it. But your moan might be soon.
πΛ ΰ£ͺβΉ navigation : all works ; guidelines ; let's be friends .α
Jungkook moves through a world of power, pleasure, and precision β always in control, always a step ahead. Love is a weakness. Attachment, a distraction. But then you appear: soft-spoken, sugar-sweet, wrapped in innocence like silk. You don't belong in his world β and yet, you fits into it like a secret heβs been waiting to uncover. Jungkook doesnβt question it. He watches. Waits. And when the moment is right, heβll pull you in β not with force, but with a touch, a whisper, a promise. He wonβt ask for your surrender. Heβll make you crave it. Because Jungkook doesnβt fall. He chooses β and this time, heβs already decided.
TROPES university!au, richgirl!oc, brother's best friend, richboy!jungkook
PAIRING jungkook Γ reader
WARNING alcohol consumption, strong language, too much unnecessary jokes (can't do anything about it), prologue: university edition, slow burn(i mean it), pining, forced proximity, fear commitment, traumas?, jk's so delicate with oc, basketballplayer!jungkook, mature content
βauthor's note i'm both terrified and thrilled to finally release this little monster into the world. technically, this is the prologueβbut calling it that feels too innocent. itβs more like a quiet beginning to something that absolutely refuses to stay quiet. there will be more parts. theyβll arrive when theyβre ready. or when i've stopped arguing with the characters in my head. should i make a playlist for this? i tried. it bit back. anyway, consider this your warning and your welcome. read at your own riskβand enjoy the descent.
Life has never felt sharper than in this moment β the car slicing through the wind, the sky darkening above, tension riding shotgun. Your brother drives like heβs racing a ghost, foot heavy on the gas, the road blurring beneath you. Youβve told him before β speed terrifies you. He never listens.
βDid you memorize everything I said?β Taehyung asks, eyes flicking toward you before locking back on the road.
You open your mouth β a protest forming β but his sideways glare cuts you off before a word escapes. You sigh.
βDonβt speak unless you have to. Wait until I give the signal. Youβre with me, so act like it. Make an impression,β you recite, voice flat.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, jaw tight. βDonβt screw this up. Itβs a big game.β
You glance down at the heels on your feet β unfamiliar, awkward. βBelieve me, I donβt even have the power to screw it up.β
Taehyung doesnβt flinch. βYou said that last time too. Right before you got expelled.β
This is it β your second shot. A fresh start at a pristine private university your parents paid a not-so-small fortune for. Youβre supposed to be someone new now. Better. Sharper. Unbreakable.
You squint at him. βThat wasnβt even my fault.β
He smirks. βAnd yet, somehow β still your legacy.β
You sigh and turn to the window. The dress sticks to your skin, your palms damp with sweat. The vest on top only makes it worse. Outside, sculpted hedges stretch in perfect symmetry toward the looming university gates. Clean. Controlled. Just like everything you're expected to be.
βRemind me again why I have to go to your game?β
Taehyung looks wounded β theatrically, of course. βAfter everything Iβve done for you, and I donβt even get your undying love?β
And honestly? Heβs not wrong. Heβs done more for you than your own parents. Which, to be fair, is a low bar β but still. Taehyung has protected you, defended you, probably even threatened a teacher or two. Heβs ambition with a jawline. A one-man PR team and emotional bodyguard.
But you've also seen him angry. And Taehyungβs anger? It doesnβt explode. It simmers. It burns. It walks into a room and the temperature drops ten degrees. You love him β in that weird, deeply complicated sibling way β but you'd rather be hit by a car than be in his path when heβs furious.
βI donβt even know the rules of basketball,β you mutter. βAnd showing up isnβt going to change that.β
The car shifts onto gravel, the tires crunching like bones in a horror movie. Dust kicks up behind you, swirling in the rearview β dramatic, just like this whole morning. And honestly? If this is how your new chapter startsβ¦ you may need to fake your own death by mid-semester.
βThis is the best I can offer for your grand welcome tour,β he says, tapping the wheel like heβs conducting an invisible orchestra.
βIf I wanted to disappear quietly into the background, this is... aggressively the wrong way,β you shoot back, eyeing him like a walking bad decision.
βNot your concern. I already told you β let me worry about the theatrics. You just stand there and soak up the drama.β
βExactly what I planned. Passive bystander energy is my whole strategy,β you reply, raising an eyebrow like it's a weapon.
He flashes that grin β smug, sharp, and begging to be punched. βHow lucky that one of us came prepared with a functioning brain.β
βAw. Thank you,β you say with faux sincerity.
βI was talking about myself.β
You notice the shift in scenery just in time to realize something horrifying: youβve arrived. Already.
So much for mentally preparing. You barely had time to invent a fake identity or plot your dramatic escape.
A stone wall looms on either side like the setting of a very bougie prison. The gothic-style iron gates creak open with all the enthusiasm of a vampire waking from a nap, and Taehyung jumps right in with his usual grace:
βIβve gotta hit the locker room and change. You, being the obedient angel you pretend to be, will wait out here for your beloved brother. Got it?β His voice teeters somewhere between drill sergeant and smug theater kid.
You squint at him. βWhy canβt I just go in without you?β
He throws you a look sharp enough to slice drywall. Taehyung has changed a lot over the years β mostly in the βGreek statue with issuesβ direction. All that training turned him into a walking intimidation poster, which apparently also made him hotter. Which made him cockier. Which made you consider legally disowning him at least twice.
Still, you canβt help it. Youβre a little proud. Annoyed β but proud.
His spine is made of steel, his face is always unreadable, and his ability to pretend everythingβs under control is downright Olympic. Honestly, if you could download his emotional software, you would. It saved your life more than once when you were younger β even if it came with a side of unsolicited advice and judgmental stares.
βYes, I remember. Big brotherβs word is law,β you deadpan.
He lets out a laugh β real and loud. βDidnβt think Iβd ever hear that from your mouth. Or did you mean first in line to inherit everything?β
Your jaw hits the floor so fast it mightβve cracked tile. Of course heβd slip that in.
βNot my fault youβre Mom and Dadβs favorite,β you grumble, already mourning your future as a smiling, agreeable hologram of a person.
Taehyung keeps joking β because of course he does β just as the car cruises onto a terrace so dramatically designed it might as well come with background music. Statues pose like they know theyβre being watched. You spot a fountain with some shirtless Greek god impaling a giant snake, water spewing dramatically from its mouth like it just heard your social anxiety speak.
The gravel gives way to smooth stone β because, obviously, this car shouldnβt suffer the indignity of bumpy roads.
βIβm sure youβre ready,β Taehyung chirps, stepping out with all the smug confidence of a man whoβs never second-guessed a day in his life. He opens your door like a prince, or a chauffeur, or someone auditioning for both.
βYou canβt be sure,β you mutter. Not sarcastic. Just... honest. Terrifyingly honest.
The campus is so big it might have its own moon orbiting it. There's a full-blown park out front, crawling with the kind of rich kids whose names are basically currency. You recognize more than a few β or at least recognize the types: platinum cards, legacy admission, generational arrogance.
The park keeps stretching out like itβs being unrolled in real-time, littered with more fountains than strictly necessary. Not that youβre judging β youβve already lost track of how many zeroes it mustβve taken to maintain all this.
Youβre too busy gawking to notice Taehyung watching you like you just crawled out of a shoebox.
βI told you to keep quiet and act like you belong. We havenβt even walked through the door and you're already drooling like it's Disneyland.β
He says it with all the casual snobbery of someone whoβs never had to swipe their own transit card. Hands in pockets, chin high, channeling his inner male model-meets-dictator.
You fold your arms automatically. βWell excuse me for being impressed, Mr. Private Jet. My last university had mold in three different colors. You want to compare campuses?β
βAfter what you did there?β he shrugs. βPretty sure the building itself applied for therapy.β
βTaehyung, drop it.β You swipe your fingers through your hair like that might erase the memory.
βWhy? You gave the place its first viral moment. Thatβs legacy, baby.β
He smirks, and to your great dismay, he kind of has a point.
Technically, this isnβt your first time here. Youβd been once β to sign paperwork with your new academic overlords. That day, they drove you in through some discreet back road near a grove, like you were contraband. The gravel path led to a staircase that dumped you straight into the heart of bureaucracy.
You didnβt get a campus tour. You barely even got a window seat. All you remember is a handful of overly polite suits, the smell of rich wood and legal ink, and your own shoes β because thatβs what you stared at while they negotiated your future over your head.
You looked up exactly three times: when they said your name, when they handed you a pen, and when you realized the door had no handle on your side.
Taehyung basically had to drag you inside before you embarrassed yourself further by staring at every fountain and shrub like a medieval peasant seeing plumbing for the first time. You clung to every detail like if you blinked, the whole place would collapse into a pile of bricks and unmet expectations.
You only notice the absurdly large sports bag on his shoulder once you pass through the universityβs doors β doors so unnecessarily big and heavy, they could double as castle gates in case of siege. You're not sure if youβre entering an elite academic institution or the Vatican.
Inside, the place is both exactly how you remembered⦠and offensively better.
Lounges stretch across both sides of the entrance hall, decorated with leather chairs that practically sneer at anyone whoβs ever sat on a bus. The glass tables match β minimalist and expensive-looking β already surrounded by students who chat like they own the place and possibly several offshore accounts.
Above them, giant stained-glass chandeliers drip light with the kind of elegance that screams we don't do budget cuts here. The rugs beneath them carry school emblems you canβt quite place. They probably mean something profound. Or pretentious. Or both.
Two dramatic spiral staircases rise like the set of a soap opera, splitting off to gendered dormitories because, apparently, even at the top 1% level, boys and girls still need supervised bedtime geography.
You glance around. Everyone is dressed in the school uniform β blazers with golden crests, tailored to perfection, looking more like runway pieces than something meant to survive spilled coffee and panic attacks.
βTaehyung, why arenβt you in uniform?β you ask, mildly alarmed.
He smirks, clearly enjoying your confusion. βYouβve got a lot to learn, little sister.β
Translation: he thinks heβs too cool for school. Or rules. Or matching outfits. And youβre now stuck learning how to survive this place where even the chandeliers could probably get you expelled if you looked at them wrong.
βAre we gonna get detention for showing up like rebels?β you ask, scanning the hall like a security guardβs going to leap out from a potted plant and demand you change clothes.
βAs long as youβre with me, no one dares,β Taehyung replies, oozing the kind of arrogance usually reserved for villains or people with private jets.
βOh, with you?β You raise an eyebrow. βPretty sure your name isnβt carved into the building... yet.β
He grins. βNot officially.β
You walk beside him through the corridor, instantly becoming the eye-candy sidekick to the main attraction. Every student in sight starts noticing. Not you, obviously β them noticing him. Mr. Perfect GPA, Mr. Reputation So Clean You Could Eat Off It. You? Youβre just the plot twist.
They're all trying to figure it out: Who is she, and what backdoor deal got her here?
Your family, despite their bank balance, treats fame like itβs contagious. You grew up learning how to blend into marble walls and politely ignore the press. No one knows how many of you even exist. Thatβs probably the point.
As you both walk, Taehyung earns waves, grins, a few sly hand gestures youβre sure would get someone expelled elsewhere. Girls toss compliments his way like rose petals, their gazes sticking to you just long enough to register confusion, judgment, or mild panic.
βEnd of the hallway,β he says, pointing. βTurn right, and donβt scream when you see the gym. Pretend youβve been in places with ceilings taller than your aspirations.β
You roll your eyes. βSo just act rich?β
He shrugs. βFake it βtil they think you belong.β
Taehyung gave you one last reassuring pat β like sending a toddler into preschool β and disappeared down a hallway that branched out like a choose-your-own-nightmare adventure.
Alone, you made a bold decision: act like you belonged here. Which mostly meant gawking at everything like you didnβt. The walls were cluttered with dramatic oil paintings of alumni who apparently graduated with enough medals to sink a small yacht.
You were mid-tour-guide-in-your-own-head when the floor caught your eye. Not metaphorically. Literally.
There, smack in the middle of the hallway, was a mural: a steroidal eagle with claws sunk into a basketball like it owed him money, wings flared, beak open in what looked like either a scream or a motivational speech.
You stepped around to admire it β and got body-slammed by reality.
Or more specifically, by someone moving at the speed of βno time for newbies.β Your heels betrayed you, squealing like rats on tile as you pitched forward, arms flailing, dignity gone.
Enter: mystery hand. A firm grip around your waist stopped your crash landing. You looked up, eyes locking on a guy whose face was framed in backlit drama like some K-drama casting director had summoned him on cue.
He looked like an angel. If angels were irritable gym gods with murder in their eyes.
His features were sharp enough to file legal documents with, and his hair was just curly enough to suggest chaos under control. He wore the same athletic uniform youβd seen in Taehyungβs bag β black with enough white stripes to suggest speed or danger, maybe both.
He didnβt say hello. Didnβt ask if you were okay. He just shoved you upright like a malfunctioning robot and clicked his tongue β the international sign for you're in my way.
Then came the real warmth: βDonβt block the hallway,β he said, like you'd parked your car in his soul.
A glance past you. Hair flick. βFuck it,β he muttered and charged through the doors like an emotionally constipated action hero.
You stood there like a shocked mannequin, legs shaking, brain buffering.
More footsteps approached behind you.
Run? Sure. But why leave when the chaos is just getting started?
βYouβre Taehyungβs sister, arenβt you?β came a mildly amazed voice.
You turned to find three girls staring at you like they were auditioning to be the same person. Their only real difference? Hair color. And maybe lip gloss aggressiveness.
You stand there, practically turned to stone, still trying to mentally reboot from this morningβs episode of βWelcome to Hell: Fancy Campus Edition.β
βEdelin, I think sheβs defective. No vocal cords,β one girl smirks. The rest giggle like hyenas at a Botox clinic.
βYou might actually be useful to us, right, Sophia?β the blonde chimes in, eyes glinting like a rich kidβs lawsuit.
βShut your mouth, Blair,β the brunetteβclearly Sophia, clearly the leader, clearly the one who might've poisoned a roommate onceβglares at her friend like sheβs mentally drawing blood.
βDo you even know who Taehyung is taking to the party tonight?β Blair snaps, suddenly getting serious like this is a matter of state.
Sophia scoffs. βProbably that desperate little horror show from the parallel stream. Whatβs her name again?β
βDelia?β Blairβs eyebrow arches so high it might take flight.
βYeah, that abomination. Who names a human being Delia?β Blair mutters like sheβs filing a formal complaint with God.
You begin questioning every life choice that brought you here. Were the scholarships worth it? Couldnβt you have just married a dentist?
You take one cautious step back, holding your hands up like someone about to be mugged by cheerleaders.
βUhβ¦ listen. Iβm just trying to survive orientation. Please skip me on your villain arc.β
Sophia steps closer with the poise of someone whoβs watched Mean Girls too many times and decided Regina George was misunderstood.
βIf we wanted to scare you, we wouldnβt be using our words,β she says sweetly, like a Disney villain about to push you into a well. βWe just want someβ¦ information.β
You swear they must rehearse this stuff.
You're calculating your odds of escape whenβ
Boom. Salvation drops an arm over your shoulder like it owns you.
βThere you are. I take my eyes off you for one second, and suddenly Iβm auditioning for Campus Survivor: Sister Edition. Whatβs the deal?β
The voice? Velvet-wrapped steel. The perfume? Costs more than your tuition. The attitude? Five-star hotel concierge with a black belt.
You turn.
Green eyes. Brown hair. Built like she could suplex a barista if they spelled her name wrong. And⦠probably your new favorite person.
βMove aside, Botox Barbie Squad. We've got emergency mediocrity to attend to,β the girl announces like sheβs hosting the Hunger Games.
She turns to you. βYour name, darling?β
You mumble it. Her eyes light up like she just found the last charger in a blackout, and suddenly, sheβs got you under her wing like you're her long-lost bestie.
βDonβt worry, girls, weβll gossip about the apocalypse later,β she throws over her shoulder, and the Plastics 2.0 vanish in a puff of judgment and over-sprayed perfume.
βUgh. Skinny witches,β she mutters. βAll ribs and venom. Someone give them a sandwich and a personality.β
You blink. βThank youβ¦ I think?β
βPlease. I collect lost souls. You looked one hallway away from fainting into a janitorβs bucket.β
You nod numbly. Today started like a teen drama. Now itβs spiraling into a psychological thriller.
βSorry. They just caught me off guard.β
βYou should see them when theyβre pissed. Like raccoons with credit cards,β she smirks. βNameβs Janessa. Yours Iβve already stolen.β
βI was supposed to wait for Taehyung,β you remember, like thatβll anchor you in this fever dream.
βYou really are his sister? How does a Disney side character birth a Greek god?β
βWhy is that shocking to everyone?β
βSweetheart,β she says, patting your shoulder. βThe plot twist of this place is that logic doesnβt live here.β
Right on cue, Taehyung shows up, arms raised like heβs summoning divine favor.
βMy sister! Today the gods decide our fateβvictory or humiliation memes for eternity!β
βCalm down, Shakespeare. Itβs just a game.β
βJust a game?β he gasps. βTell that to our reputation, our GPA curve, and my dating life!β
You sigh, glancing toward the gym. The screams inside sound like a gladiator pit.
Welcome to university.
οΎπΆοΎπΆ
The gym is massiveβbecause of course it is. Why not throw a small nation inside while weβre at it? The floor shines like someone licked it clean. Every shoe squeak sounds like a mouse getting murdered. Red and yellow walls scream βschool spiritβ and possible retinal damage.
Taehyung leads you in like heβs Moses parting a sea of hormone-ridden teenagers.
βI got you the best seat,β he says, like heβs offering you a throne. You cling to his sleeve because reverting to childhood is cheaper than therapy.
Thereβs not a single free seat. The fire marshal would faint. Music startsβloud, peppy, and painfully motivational. A musical slap to the face.
Taehyung parks you in your royal spot and vanishes, leaving you in the middle of a crowd that smells like sweat and entitlement. Everyoneβs high on adrenaline. You? You just want soup and a nap.
Thenβbam! A hand on your shoulder. Again. You're starting to think this is a contact sport.
Itβs Janessa. Of course it is.
βSweetheart, sitting all alone like a stray puppy? Mind if I keep you company?β
Your cheeks heat up. The girl next to you does a theatrical sigh, but Janessa gives her one lookβand poof. The seatβs magically empty. Sorcery, probably.
βYou donβt look like you know the rules,β Janessa says, plopping down.
βIs it that obvious?β
βYouβre sitting like the courtβs contagious.β
Her uniform fits like sin, all curves and confidence. Yours would probably wrinkle just out of spite.
βWant a crash course in how your golden-boy brother joined the undefeated gods of ball?β She winks.
βWaitβtheyβve never lost? Likeβ¦ ever?β
βYou two related or what? He never told you?β
You remember dinner talks where speaking was forbidden, so you two communicated like spies. Somehow he told you everythingβteam gossip, strategies, weird mascot facts. You nodded, smiled, and retained none of it.
And now? Youβre just hoping nobody notices the panic behind your eyes. You're not built for the spotlight. Youβre built for avoiding eye contact and pretending to text when people get too close.
Your parents were the kind of people who thought pressure made diamonds. In your case, it mostly made anxiety, nervous rashes, and a deeply rooted fear of being observed. They hovered through your college years like a committee of disappointed ghosts.
Taehyung, meanwhile, was born with a spotlight and an internal monologue narrated by Morgan Freeman. He didn't even try. He just existed⦠beautifully.
When the rival team entered the court, they looked like they'd just come off a Marvel movie set. Broad shoulders, soul-piercing stares, jawlines that could open cans. Their uniforms were so sharp they probably had to be stored in a weapon locker. You briefly wondered what it would feel like to lose to them. Probably like being crushed by art. Painful, but gorgeous.
Your team came in next, with the subtle grace of a marching band and the attitude of people who paid rent on that court. The crowd lost its collective mind. Coaches gave speeches. Someone wept. It was dramatic. You werenβt sure if it was basketball or a war declaration.
Janessa leaned in like she was about to tell you a state secret. βYour brotherβs a small forward. Basically, the ninja of the teamβfast, slippery, surprisingly violent.β
You blinked. βThat sounds illegal.β
βOh honey,β she laughed, βwait till you see Central C. That man is the reason we keep an emergency thirst ambulance on campus. If basketball was a religion, heβd be our patron saint of broken ankles.β
She sweeps the court with a flick of her manicured finger like sheβs picking which poor soul to sacrifice. Her nail lands on him. The reason you nearly ate gym floor and social death in one go. The guy who caught you like some drama club guardian angel, then walked off like he didnβt care about your entire existential collapse.
βThatβs our MVP,β Janessa grins, like sheβs about to confess a war crime. βJeon Jungkook. Or as I like to call him: the reason birth control should come with an βare you sure?β label.β
You stare. Hard. It's not lust; itβs anthropological interest. Like watching a god emerge from gym shorts.
βI totally get it. Heβs a hormone in motion. His full nameβs only used by two types of people: those terrified of him, and those who want him to choke them with his biceps.β
You blink. βWhy is everyone here scared of somebody?β
Janessa chuckles like a villain. βBecause everyone here has a mobster uncle or a politician daddy. These aren't students. These are trust funds with sneakers. Touch one, and youβre in a Netflix documentary.β
She turns fully to you, forgetting the game. βWeβre in the same glittering hellhole. Parents watching us like weβre the season finale. Not because they careβbut because theyβre afraid of becoming memes.β
You nod grimly. Relatable.
You remember that stormy night. Your father pacing like heβs auditioning for Hamlet. Your mother flinging guilt like designer perfume. βYouβre an embarrassment,β he said. βWhy are you like this?β
βLetβs send her to her brother,β she added, like shipping you off to Hogwarts for delinquents. βLet him deal with her.β
Taehyung wasnβt allowed in that room. Not because he wouldnβt defend you. Because they didnβt want a witness.
And so here you are, soaking in generational trauma and basketball.
The game kicks off like a bar fight. Taehyung bulldozes through the opposing team like heβs auditioning for βFast & Furious: Campus Drift.β A poor soul lands on his butt, and your team scores.
You scream. Janessa screams. Your ankle screams in heels.
Later, the players huddle in sweat and regret. Their coach looks like heβs contemplating arson. One more shot and the score evens out.
You lean back and wonder: is this what growth feels likeβor just stress-induced Stockholm Syndrome?
The game continues, and itβs a demolition derby in sneakers.
Players crash into each other with the enthusiasm of caffeinated bulls. Your brother steamrolls one of the opposing players like heβs clearing traffic, then hurls himself toward the hoop. The ball slides in clean, your side scores, and the poor human speed bump is left clinging to the floor in spiritual confusion.
The crowd loses it. Janessa howls. Youβre screaming too, possibly possessed.
The match is fast, brutal, and almost poetic. Taehyungβs team moves like clockwork with anger issues. The formations are tight, passes sharp. Taehyungβs dribbling? Practically foreplay with gravity. Even you, whose sports knowledge begins and ends with βdonβt drop the ball,β are halfway to writing a love letter to his coordination.
Then the atmosphere shifts.
The second quarter ends. The players are sweating like they just sprinted out of a burning building. Your brotherβs team huddles near the bench, their coach snapping his clipboard in halfβpossibly for motivation, possibly because heβs two seconds from cardiac arrest. One good shot from the other team and the game ties.
The tension is thick. The kind you could butter and serve at brunch.
The third quarter is a slow-motion collapse in the form of organized sports. Things arenβt getting betterβtheyβre aging like milk. The tension on your universityβs bench is the kind youβd expect before a public beheading.
Taehyung? Heβs the only one doing cardio with purpose. Heβs practically flying across the court like his soul is in debt and basketball is the only redemption.
Then there's him.
Jungkookβcurrently stealing a ball, dodging a human meat wall, and pulling off dribbling theatrics that make you question gravity. He gets pushed to the outer limits of scoring sanity. From that distance, shooting is basically prayer. But judging by his expression, heβs not prayingβheβs planning murder. He doesnβt just play the game; he bullies it into submission.
Break time.
Taehyung stumbles over, drenched in enough sweat to water a small garden.
βStill having fun?β he smirks, acting like he hasnβt been dodging flying elbows for the last hour.
You squint. βMore intense than Faust. Less soul-selling, though. I think.β
Janessa, ever the drama queen, sighs as if youβve disappointed her spiritually. βSheβs lying, Taehyung. Your sisterβs basically fangirling in slow motion. If she had pom-poms, someone would be in danger.β
βLet her dream,β Taehyung shrugs, wiping the Niagara Falls off his forehead.
βYouβre both insufferable,β you mutter, but then pause. βWait. How do you know Janessa?β
Their synchronized laughter hits like a jump scare.
βYou mean that Janessa?β Taehyung arches a brow. βFrom the global overlords of medicine? Whose family probably owns half of your bloodstream?β
Janessa beams like she pays taxes in compliments. βWeβre not here for that. Our boys are winning. Focus.β
Taehyung turns his grin on you. βThis victoryβs for you, dear sister.β He blows a kiss. Janessaβs laughter sparkles like a glass of evil champagne.
And thenβgoosebumps.
You feel it. That heavy stare. You glance across the court and there he isβJungkook. Not blinking. Not pretending. Just undressing your psyche with a look.
You blink. He doesnβt. You flinch. He stays still, like a tiger that doesnβt need to roar to be terrifying.
Then: buzzer. Final quarter.
All players are back. Everyone looks like theyβre about to declare war on personal space. Jungkook? Heβs barking orders like he owns a whistle and a copyright.
Game on.
Fouls are flirted with. Elbows fly like poorly trained drones. Jungkook moves through defenders like a rumor through a high school hallway.
Two minutes left.
Three players are caged. Taehyung and Jungkook are running on adrenaline and eye contact. Jungkook suddenly bolts to no-manβs land. Taehyung follows the code and launches the ball.
Tension hits terminal velocity.
Jungkook jumps, shootsβand nails it. Janessa claws your hand like sheβs performing an exorcism.
Crowd loses its mind.
Twenty seconds. Two points needed.
Taehyung makes eye contactβdangerous eye contact.
Ten seconds.
He spins. He jukes. He becomes chaos incarnate.
Three... two... one.
He flips backward and dunks.
Absolute mayhem.
He hangs from the rim like itβs performance art. His team rushes the court. Your school wins.
And somewhere in the crowd, you lose ten years off your life.
οΎπΆοΎπΆ
The hallways look like someone kicked over an anthill full of overachievers. People with books, people with bandages, people dramatically whispering like theyβve just witnessed a political assassination β not a student basketball match.
Janessa struts ahead like sheβs got bodyguards. She pulls you along, as per Taehyungβs request β βhelp her adjust,β he said, like you were a malfunctioning robot who needed recalibration.
βThereβs a party tonight,β she announces. βVictory celebration. Technically, it was gonna happen anyway. But now itβs... inclusive.β
You blink. βSo even if we lost?β
Janessa grins. βDarling, capitalism doesnβt cry. The opposing university paid for this. Sponsorship, rivalry, spite β all in one shiny bow. Very chic.β
You exit onto the campus grounds, and again β how is this not a city? At this point, youβre convinced the university has a private military.
βWhat does that even mean?β you ask, suspicious.
βI can only spoil part of the plot. The restβs for your bro to unravel. One of their players β unofficial captain, unofficial jerk β has questions for Taehyung. Questions Taehyung plans to ignore with the grace of a man filing his nails mid-duel.β
βSo... they planned a whole game just to get close to him?β
βExactly. Theyβre obsessed. They keep bribing referees, department heads β trying to poke the bear. Only problem? Taehyungβs bear-proof.β She says this like itβs a known medical fact.
You feel like you accidentally wandered into a mafia subplot.
Taehyung β your rock, your always-has-your-back brother β apparently leads a secret life involving vendettas and referee manipulation. You thought he just studied a lot.
And worse? He never told you.
Thereβs a bitter taste in your mouth. Not jealousy. More like... exclusion. Youβve always leaned on each other. Now it feels like you were leaning on a locked door.
βThey all have weaknesses though,β Janessa purrs. βWanna guess?β
βEgo,β you reply flatly. βTheyβre terrified of looking weak.β
Janessa gasps like you just solved world hunger. βGirl. Youβre terrifying. I love it.β
You blush, of course, and hate yourself for it.
You could smell the academic dread in the airβautumn leaves piled like little academic corpses on the pavement, and the sky looked ready to file a lawsuit for emotional damage. The only thing missing? A violinist playing Requiem for a Failed Semester.
Janessa glanced at the graying clouds. βWe better go inside before the weather starts throwing chairs.β
She was right. Even the squirrels looked stressed.
Then, just your luckβTaehyung appeared like a drama club understudy with way too much energy. His grin vanished as fast as his GPA the moment he clocked your expression.
Janessa sensed incoming doom. βIβm gonnaβ¦go do anything else,β she said, backing away like someone who just realized she left the stove on.
βWhatβs with the death stare?β he asked, already bracing himself like you were a human lawsuit.
βIβm mad at you,β you said, with all the poise of someone seconds away from either tears or arson.
βYeah, I got that.β
βWhy didnβt you tell me anything? I feel like an unpaid extra in your movie.β
Taehyung blinked. βWhat movie? The one where I get concussion-slapped every weekend?β
Boomβlightning. Of course. Even the weather was dramatic now.
βYouβve been throwing hands with rival teams like itβs Fight Club: University Edition and I know nothing,β you hissed.
He sighed like someone who just realized he forgot to defrost the chicken. βOkay, listen. Can I at least drive you back before you cry all over your designer outfit? Diorβs not made for warfare.β
βIβm going to kill you, Taehyung. Theyβll name a bench after me for it.β
βThere she is. My sweet, sweet angel of death.β
You scowled. Classic him. Always the martyr. Always the idiot. Still, you knew the truthβhe probably didnβt want you mixed up in this circus. He barely managed to keep himself afloat.
βSorry,β you muttered, poking at your fingers like they owed you money.
His expression melted. Arms opened. Like an overpriced teddy bear with good hair.
βIβm sorry too,β he said. βI didnβt want to bother you with... whatever this is. Thought Iβd do the whole macho-man thing.β
βYou absolute walnut,β you muttered against his chest. βYouβre stuck with me, jackass. Remember that.β
He pulled back, still grinning. βYouβre the smart one. Iβm just the hot one.β
βShut up before I change my mind.β
βOh? Weβre doing compliments now? In this economy?β
You both laughedβbecause if you didnβt, you might actually start crying again.
οΎπΆοΎπΆ
Taehyung had bragged your dorm room was the best on campus. Not just βbestβ like βoh, a nice corner spot.β No, the kind of best that whispers bribery with a Gucci accent. The kind of view where you expected a man with a violin to appear on the balcony every evening.
You gave him hell for it, naturally.
βHow much did you pay for this, and what limbs did you sell?β
βThe semesterβs already started,β you reminded him. βPeople were fighting for broom closets, and you got me a royal suite?β
He shrugged like rich boys do. βConnections.β
Which was code for: I know a guy who knows a guy who forged a guy's email.
βYouβre going to the party tonight,β he said, raising his hand like he was Moses and this was non-negotiable holy law.
βIβm not, actually.β
You matched his hand raise, mocking him. βIβm halfway through a book. A real one. With plot and emotion. You ever heard of that?β
βExcuse you, I made the honor roll.β
βYeah, and Iβm the Queen of France.β
βThat rich. Especially from my only sister.β
His dramatic pain-face deserved an Oscarβor at least a meme caption.
Inside, the room looked like Hogwarts and a luxury hotel had an expensive, overachieving baby. Faux medieval wooden beams, leather couches straight out of an interior design catalog, and a TV bigger than your emotional baggage. Two doors on either side, which meant: welcome to cohabitation. Pray no oneβs into interpretive dancing at 3 a.m.
βYouβre sharing with three others,β he said, kicking off his shoes like this was his place. βBut you get your own room. I have standards, even if you donβt.β
You shot him a look.
βI got you an outfit,β he added before you could find something to throw at him.
βOh, joy. Another designer dress I didnβt ask for.β
βCorrection: latest Gucci fall line,β he said, like that solved world hunger. βNine sharp. Back garden. Meet me by the pond.β
You squinted. βWe have a pond?β
βYes. Try to look like you were born rich and bored.β
οΎπΆοΎπΆ
The dorm is dead silentβeerily so. Either everyoneβs off pretending to be more important than they are, or theyβre buried under a pile of designer laundry.
You step into your room andβsurprise!βyour suitcases are already there, thanks to your familyβs terrifying ability to micromanage across postal codes. And sitting beside them, like a smug little trophy, is a green Gucci bag with a note pinned on it like itβs a piece of performance art.
βYouβll look ravishing in this. First thing I thought when I saw it.
P.S. Parents want to see you this week.
Tae.β
You grin. Of course, your brother is the one person whose shameless flattery you buy wholesale.
You take out the dress, strut over to the mirror, and hold it against yourself with the kind of breathy sigh that would make a perfume ad jealous. You even spin like you're in a coming-of-age montage.
βYou look stunning,β a voice interrupts.
You nearly throw the dress across the room in pure horror-movie reflex.
There she isβblonde chaos incarnate. Her uniform looks like it barely survived a scandal. One more step and that cardiganβs filing for divorce.
βSorry, your door was open. Figured Iβd snoop a little,β she leans into the doorframe like itβs a photo shoot. Sheβs stunning. Like, of course she is.
βItβs fine,β you mutter, casually shoving the dress onto the couch like it didnβt just cause a minor cardiac event. Itβs black, sequined, and screams βarrest me in the champagne sectionβ.
βTaehyung wasnβt exaggeratingβhis sister is a knockout. Iβm jealous,β she drawled, slow and syrupy.
βDid he really say that?β you smirk, already planning how to emotionally blackmail him later.
She strolls in without permission (or shame).
βWant help unpacking? I know that mental breakdown energy when I see it,β she says, flopping onto your bed.
βAdriana. And youβre the sister. This is already a story Iβll tell at brunch.β
You introduce yourself like a normal person and pretend this isnβt already the weirdest day of your semester.
You gave her your name, still mentally adjusting. βLikewise. Iβm thrilled Iβve been assigned a roommate with a sense of humor. My inner child is currently doing backflips.β
βOh honey,β she laughs. Itβs an unhinged, charismatic laugh. You instantly trust her and fear her equally.
βThey should be back soon. Stormβs coming.β She grins like she summoned it.
She offers her hand like youβre making a pact with a stylish demon.
βLet me give you a tour. Itβs the least I can do after scaring you half to death.β
You follow her like a lamb to the fashion slaughterhouse.
Her room is part chaos, part couture crime scene. Everythingβs luxury, but you wouldnβt touch it without gloves.
βHave you figured out what to wear tonight?β you ask, scanning the fashion battlefield.
βNot unless I climb into one of these suitcases and get shipped to Milan.β
βI could lend you something,β you say, already regretting the generosity.
βWow. Designer lending on day one? Youβre gonna regret that when I burn it by accident.β
More laughter. You might actually survive this place.
Then the voices arrive.
Adriana mutters, βSpeak of the devilsβ¦β
The door slams open like a scene from Mean Girls: Apocalypse Edition.
βIβm not wearing Vivienne Westwood from last fall. Iβd rather die.β
βThat saleswitch tried to pass it off as new. I was this close to homicide.β
You follow Adriana into the living room, wondering if this is hell or a reality show. Either way, you're not leaving. The circus was officially in town.
βWho does she think she is?β Adriana says, and you realizeβthis girl could star in a courtroom drama and win an Emmy just from delivering objections.
βFinally, someone understands,β the other girl groans. βDiana, I swear, this place is like a haunted boarding school, and Iβm the only one with a mirror. Iβm going to the bathroom. Itβs mine for the next hour. I need to scrub the poverty off me before it spreads.β She raises her perfectly manicured hands like sheβs holding a biohazard.
Adriana throws you a look that says theyβre not dangerous, just dramatic. Youβre not entirely convinced. They walk like chaos wrapped in couture.
βWow,β the girl says, circling you like a shark in heels. Adriana steps back like sheβs handing you over. βIs thisβ¦ is this Dior limited collection?β She practically shrieks the last words.
You peek at Adriana over the girlβs shoulder with an expression that screams: Iβm being mugged by complimentsβsend help.
βMaybe? It was a gift,β you offer, half hoping the vague tone will make her wander off.
βA gift?β she gasps. βWho gives that as a gift for a regular day?β
You shrug. βI have people.β Cryptic. Slightly arrogant. Maximum damage control.
βIβm Lacey,β she says, hand outstretched like youβre supposed to kiss it. You shake it instead, politely. βYou have to show me your wardrobe sometime,β she adds, already planning her future fashion heist.
Then, like a gremlin on a sugar crash, she spins on Adriana. βYou promised to help me pick my outfit! We had a pact!β
She dives into a mountain of Chanel shopping bags, lifting them like theyβre sacrificial offerings. βI refuse to believe not a single piece here screams βlook at me or dieββwhat happened to fashion?β
Adriana gives a vague yes and shoves her toward the room, and suddenly the air is blessedly quiet again.
You turn slowly. βYou call that harmless?β
Adriana doesnβt miss a beat. βThey have issues. But really, who doesnβt?β
You agree to help her choose a look in exchange for dinner. A fair deal considering youβre already being treated like you walked onto the set of The Real Housewives of Dormitory B.
Their rooms look like a cosmetics apocalypse. Lipsticks on the floor like landmines. Dresses strewn across the sofa like fashionable casualties. Instant noodles fight for territory with Louis Vuitton boxes.
Finallyβfinallyβsomething that looks like real student life.
Adriana is somehow helping both girls with their looks while reapplying her lipstick, fixing her own hair, and yelling something about not pairing snakeskin with pastel.
Meanwhile, you're in your room, wrangling your curls and swearing under your breath. Taehyung, in his infinite audacity, bought you heels. Heels. And not cute onesβintimidation weapons.
By 8:30, you're half-skipping down the stairs like a pageant queen on a death wish. You grip the hem of your dress to avoid turning your entrance into a public accident. If your contour ends up on the university floor, you're transferring out of shame.
The girls waved you off, already halfway to the party. They wished you luck like seasoned witches sending a sacrifice into the woods.
Honestly? They werenβt so bad. Chaotic, yes. Slightly terrifying, absolutely. But at least now you know their bark is worse than their wardrobe.
You step out toward the back exit, fully prepared for a peaceful walk and some dramatic overthinking by the lake. The scenery is serving βbrochure for elite escape,β complete with a cute little pond, dreamy lanterns, and a romantic gravel path β the same one your parents used when dropping you off like it was summer camp for future CEOs.
Then the universe does what it does best: ruins the vibe.
Thereβs a car. A Porsche. Parked like it owns the gravel. And of course itβs his.
Youβre halfway into your villain origin story, doing a full pivot to escape when β ding! β his voice pings your spine.
βHey, sweetheart. Howβs my favorite girl?β
You consider sprinting into the lake, fully clothed.
But no, you gather your skirt, straighten your spine, and walk toward him like youβre about to accept your Oscar. There he is: Christopher. In a suit that probably costs more than your tuition. His tie is maroon. Itβs also about to become a weapon.
You yank it. Hard.
He chokes, surprised. βBunny, whatβ?β
βOh, you know,β you purr sweetly. βJust reminiscing about how Pavilion Club is known for many things. Like drugs. And hookers. You were there, werenβt you, pumpkin?β
He stammers. βLook, even if someone saw me, they probably mistook me forββ
βGod?β you cut in. βBecause you act like one.β
You give the tie another loving tug. He stumbles forward like a man about to beg for salvation.
βIβm irresistible,β he tries. His Hail Mary.
You release him, and he lurches forward like a dumb fish caught in emotional barbed wire. You slap him. Not gently. Not metaphorically. Your hand makes contact.
He whines and grabs his face like itβs a Greek tragedy.
βBabe, it wonβt happen again, I swear.β
βOh, good,β you say. βBecause if it does, Iβm calling Animal Control.β
Just then, fate tosses you a lifeline: Taehyung enters like a scene change in a movie β tall, dark, and dressed for revenge. His tux could assassinate a weaker man. You nearly sigh in relief.
Christopher looks like a wet napkin in comparison.
And suddenly you remember: you're not just someoneβs girlfriend.
You're someone's sister.
And your brother just showed up looking like a high-end hitman with a schedule to keep.
He claps once like a rich man ending a boring dinner.
βWell. No idea what just went down hereβ¦β His eyes linger on you like heβs mentally pinning a gold star on your forehead. βBut you? Excellent work. Five stars. A+ for dramatic execution. And youβ¦β he turns to Christopher, βabsolutely earned that. Butβtragicallyβwe have a schedule. Drinks. More drinks. Followed by emotional collapse and denial.β
You laugh. That short, insane laugh you only get when your dignityβs hanging by a thread and your mascaraβs still dry. You loop your arm through Taehyungβs like you're being escorted to a gala, not leading a guy with a bruised ego down a gravel path.
Christopher trails behind like a beaten dog who still thinks heβs a show pony. He doesnβt even try to talk to you. Taehyungβs presence is like your own walking restraining orderβluxuriously scented and dressed to kill.
The barβyes, a bar on campusβlooks legal in the way a tax loophole looks legal. Itβs clean, itβs well-lit, and itβs definitely hiding a hundred questionable decisions behind that glowing neon sign. The closer you get, the louder the bass. Itβs not music. Itβs seismic activity.
βWhen we get in,β Taehyung leans down, all charm, βI have to go give a motivational speech to the boys. Yβknow, stir some testosterone. Keep up the illusion weβre more than just sweaty drama queens.β
You smirk. βTo the same guys who have issues with my brother? Just say the word and Iβll personally wrap their broken noses in satin and deliver them with a card that says βGet well never.ββ
He chuckles, tapping your arm. βYou? I doubt you could kill a housefly.β
βEvery life matters,β you say, with the self-righteousness of a vegan in a steakhouse.
βYouβre terrifying,β he whispers. βReally.β
Then your brain catches up. βHold upβdid you say you have a gorgeous sister earlier?β
He freezes like you just hit him with a defamation lawsuit. βWhoever said that is already missing. And no, I didnβt.β
βSo they lied?β
βYouβre forcing me into villainy,β he grins.
βYou bastard,β you say sweetly and start swatting him. He twists away, laughing like a boy who just realized you hit like a butterfly with a grudge.
Cue throat clearing.
Ah yes. Christopher. The emotional cockroach.
βAlright, lovebirds,β Taehyung says with a dramatic air-kiss. βDonβt maim the poor boy. His face still has value on the open market.β He vanishes into the bar like some sexy guardian angel with abandonment issues.
You turn and stare at Chrisβwho has the facial expression of a puppy that stepped on its own tail and wants forgiveness without explanation.
βIβm not doing this with you,β you inform him. βTonight is sacred. My brother won the game, I plan to get wasted and dance like no oneβs filming. You? Youβre a footnote.β
You march toward the bouncer, whoβs there mostly for decoration. βYou coming, or standing there like your dignity will come back if you wait long enough?β
Chris perks up like a man given hope way too soon and reaches for your hand.
Slap. A swift warning. No contact.
βI havenβt forgiven you,β you snap. βGo back to your fan club. Apparently, their hands were more comforting than mine.β
You donβt even bother to see if he follows. Tears sting, but you blink them away.
Inside, the party is already insanity in motion. The crowd is sticky, the bass shakes your bones, the air smells like vodka and regret. Itβs massiveβlike someone converted an Olympic-sized pool into a dance floor for emotionally unstable people.
And at the far end? A terrace. High on the hill, like a metaphor for escape.
The shrieking starts before you even finish your internal prayer. Dear gods, if youβre still pelting me with life lessonsβconsider me humbled.
The girls come flying at you like youβre the final boss of prom night.
βGirls, look at this temptressβand sheβs still sober!β Diana announces, scandalized. βThatβs an emergency.β
Suddenly youβve got two drinks, zero dignity, and your arms locked by two women with the balance of circus acrobats. Theyβre singing. Youβre swaying. Your drink is glowing. Your brain is screaming.
Your boyfriend? Vanished. Like a morally flexible magician. By midnight heβll be slurping vodka shots and someone elseβs neck. All he needs is liquor and low lighting.
At the bar, the bartender doesnβt ask what you wantβAdriana waves a single finger like some glittery mafia boss, and a pink monstrosity appears in your hand. You donβt question it. You drink. You forget. Time, names, regrets.
You gasp for air like a drowning Victorian lady and stumble out to the terrace, vodka in hand, soul barely intact.
And there he is. Captain Victory. Taehyun, surrounded by enough testosterone to choke a horse. His teammates look like they were molded in a factory that only makes egos and abs.
He sees you. Of course he does. He could find you in a blackout during an earthquake.
βJust in time,β he says, placing a hand on your arm like a politician about to lie. βSpeech. Me. Excessive drinking. The whole thingβs starting soon. You nervous?β
You blink at him, half drunk and half paralyzed.
βShouldnβt you be nervous? Iβm just here to pretend I donβt know you.β
You cling to the edge of his blazer like it might teleport you out of this social nightmare.
And then it happens. The sensation. The look.
You turn. And there he isβhim. The guy who thinks brooding is a personality. The one whoβs been glaring since day one and who literally knocked you over like he was auditioning for villain of the month.
Heβs dressed like a funeral and a runway show had a baby. Eyes darker than your moral compass. And staring at you like youβre his next psychological experiment.
His friends are babbling about the next match β stats, tactics, whatever. You, on the other hand, are laser-focused on the tall glass of sin across the room: Jeon Jungkook. A man who apparently canβt start a conversation, but could probably strip a soul bare using nothing but eye contact. And judging by the way heβs looking at you, heβs already halfway through your moral integrity.
He's standing like a cologne ad β arm over some guyβs shoulder, other hand buried in his designer pocket, expensive watch flexing like it paid for the entire bar. Heβs smirking. Great. Now your ovaries are plotting a mutiny.
βSis, meet my best friend, Jeon Jungkook β the guy responsible for all our asses if we lose. Teamβs unofficial captain. Also, if chaos had a human form,β Taehyung declares.
You donβt look at him. Not directly. Youβve read too many Greek myths to know what happens when mortals gaze into a living temptation.
βYeah, Taehyungβs been preaching about how hot and flawless his sister is,β Jungkook says, his voice deep enough to summon storms or pregnancies.
βTaehyung, your best friend just exposed you. Feels legit,β you shoot back, earning a death glare from your brother that suggests he's planning to un-sibling you later.
βAnd now that I see you β he was telling the truth,β Jungkook adds, casually delivering emotional whiplash with a side of sexual tension.
Youβre probably hallucinating. Or dead. Thatβs the only way to explain how youβre still standing here and not already in a jail cell for trying to climb him like a jungle gym.
Then the music cuts. The crowd collectively groans β clearly mourning the loss of their beat drops more than they value whatever motivational speech is incoming.
Thatβs when you realize youβve been staring at him, again, as if he might disappear if you blink. But nope. Still there. Still hot. Still radiating Big Bad Idea energy.
And frankly, youβve never been more ready to make a terrible decision.
A hand snakes around your waist, and your soul leaves your body for half a second. Then someone kisses your head. The mix of overpriced cologne and bottom-shelf vodka gives it away.
βChris,β you sigh. βSeriously?β
Chris presses himself to you like a human-sized regret. His breath is an open bar in itself.
βIβve been looking for you all night, baby. You donβt love me no more?β
Oh, you absolutely donβt. Your only coherent thought is to vanishβto run until the memory of him evaporates with your heels clicking on concrete. Standing next to him feels like you just demoted your whole outfit from high fashion to garage sale. The way he clings to you makes your stomach churn. If you throw up now, at least itβd be poeticβvodka, shame, and cherry syrup all over your shoes.
Across the party, Taehyung gives you the βIβm so sorry but youβre on your ownβ look. You get it. Heβs busy. Heβs also not the one getting marinated in ex-boyfriend sweat.
You escape to another terrace, this one facing a highwayβa perfect metaphor for your life choices. Thereβs a raised platform there, probably built for DJs or dramatic exits. Tonight, itβs Taehyungβs turn to look important.
The night gets colder. Your mood gets flatter. Your last candle of hope is about to grab a microphone and give a motivational speech like heβs auditioning for Team Captain of the Year.
Servers weave through the crowd. The place is packed like someone tried to fit an entire university into a designer shoe box. Loud tables, soft couches, sticky cocktails everywhere.
You wrap your arms around yourself. Wind slaps your skin. Then come your girls, grabbing you before you can vanish again. But they donβt even get a word out before your brotherβs voice slices through the noise.
βItβs a real honor to stand here tonight and represent my team and thisβ¦ institution,β he starts, sounding more presidential than necessary. Still has his hands in his pockets. Still pacing like a dictator in Gucci.
βThis year will be hell. Assignments, exams, heartbreaks. But weβll fight tooth and nail to make it unforgettable.β
Everyone claps like itβs a concert. Your friends start yelling like heβs giving out scholarships. Youβre mostly trying not to black out.
βAnd before I lose your attentionβbecause letβs face it, I already haveβall drinks at the bar are on me. For the people who made this whole event happen.β
Cue more applause. Music blasts. People scatter like ants on Red Bull.
And Chris?
Chris is back. Like herpes. Heβs suddenly glued to your back, swaying offbeat, both hands wrapped around your waist like a drunk koala. Heβs definitely forgotten who you are. In his brain, youβre just a vaguely female-shaped object to latch onto.
You deserve financial compensation for this entire night.
Youβre just about to wrench yourself free from your orbit around Chris when you feel it again β that stare.
Your skin prickles. Like someoneβs set fire to your spine. No, not someone. Him.
Jeon Jungkook.
He's still watching you. Not just watching β devouring. From across the terrace, half-shadowed by the dim lights, he sits slouched on a low velvet couch, legs spread like he owns the air between them. One arm thrown over the backrest, hand curled into a slow-burning fist. His jaw flexes once, then again β something dark glinting behind his eyes. That tongue of his presses against the inside of his cheek, as if tasting his own irritation.
Youβre not hallucinating.
You only realize youβve been holding your breath when a girl perches back down onto his lap β like she belongs there, like sheβs branded him. Itβs petty, maybe, but your mind instantly decides she doesnβt. That sheβs in your seat. That he should be yours.
He doesnβt flinch at her touch, doesnβt even blink when she trails kisses down the edge of his jaw and neck, clinging to him like a bad idea in lipstick. You exhale too sharply, just as Chrisβ clammy hands begin creeping up your waist again. You glance down. Heβs completely wasted. Useless β except for this. Maybe you can use him for one last thing.
The music shifts. The kind of slow, pulsing bass that oozes heat across skin. A beat that begs for bodies. You begin to move with it, one sway at a time. Your hips roll. Then one leg lifts β your thigh presses between Chrisβs β and your arms snake around his neck. Your hands tangle in his hair.
You dance like itβs the last night on Earth. Like thereβs only one person in the crowd meant to watch.
Chris wakes up enough to start pawing at you, mouth on your neck. Itβs revolting. You feel nothing. No butterflies, no fire, only the bile rising in your throat. He doesnβt deserve this version of you. He never did.
Still, you keep going.
Your body becomes a stage. Your resentment becomes choreography. And Jungkook? Heβs your audience.
You catch him again: his knuckles white where they grip the couch, his jaw locked so tight it might snap. Heβs not blinking. Not breathing. Youβve got him.
And then Chris ruins it.
βJenny, is that a new perfume?β he slurs, that smug, slurred smile pulling at his lips like he thinks heβs charming.
You freeze.
Jenny?
You shove him hard β harder than necessary β and finally inhale real air. You storm off, heat prickling under your skin like static. You donβt even care where youβre going. Just away. Away from Chris. Away from everyone. But not away from him.
No, never him.
You end up at the far end of the second terrace, near a wall blanketed in ivy and shadows. You breathe through your nose, trying to erase the memory of that girlβs mouth on his throat. You canβt. Itβs carved into your brain. You try to calm down, to slow your thoughts β but then something wraps around your wrist.
Not forceful.
Intentional.
Youβre spun, gently but swiftly, and then youβre against the wall β not trapped, justβ¦ held. Jungkook towers over you, but his touch is careful. His scent hits you first β warm musk, faint leather, and something like midnight rain. His eyes search yours like heβs looking for a sign to stop. He doesnβt find one.
His hands are on your waist, firm but reverent. One slides up to your cheek, cupping it like youβre made of blown glass.
βI donβt know what game youβre playing, babydoll,β he murmurs, voice low and rough and devastating, βbut youβre not doing either of us any favors.β
Your breath hitches.
He leans in closer, so close you feel his exhale warm against your lips. βGod, Iβm such a fool,β he whispers. βYouβre absolutelyβ¦ enchanting.β
Then β slowly β he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger along your jaw, brushing feather-light patterns across your skin as if memorizing you. You canβt move. Donβt want to.
His thumb grazes your bottom lip, hesitant, then retreats as he sighs against your temple.
βWhatever this isβ¦ we need to stop,β he says softly, forehead nearly touching yours now. βItβs driving me insane.β
But his hands donβt move.
Neither do you.
βThen do something about it,β you murmur, brushing down the lapel of his suit like thatβs your sole responsibility in the world. βIβm not going anywhere.β
A direct line β no pretense. Iβm yours, it says. You know he hears it. Know he speaks your fluent body language.
βTaeβs not going to like this,β he replies eventually, his voice rich, low. One hand has found its way to the small of your back β drawing slow, concentric circles, as if soothing a wild animal. Youβre not sure if the gesture is meant to calm you, or him.
Either way, itβs working.
βWell,β you whisper, leaning in until your breath is against his skin, βheβs not here, is he?β
Your hands drift upward, fingers grazing his jaw with practiced curiosity. You memorize him in parts. That mole just beneath his lower lip β stupidly perfect. Your thumb strokes it like itβs a secret you just discovered. And then his lips. Soft, sinfully so. They part slightly when your fingertips glide across them.
You havenβt moved an inch beyond that. Neither has he. But it already feels like heβs all over you.
He exhales slowly β right into your hands β and then, without a word, presses the softest kiss to the tips of your fingers.
A second kiss follows. And a third. Until one large hand, easily twice the size of yours, curls around your wrist like heβs cradling something breakable. Then, reverently, he begins to kiss the inside of your palm β over and over β like a man possessed by a mission.
And his mission, you realize, is to completely undo you.
When his lips brush your wrist again, his eyes lift to meet yours.
That gaze doesnβt just look. It claims.
You should step back. You donβt.
His touch is so gentle it almost makes you ache β the kind of touch that confesses things out loud. It says you matter. It says youβre wanted. It says youβre more than just something pretty to ruin.
And thatβs the most dangerous part: you believe it.
You donβt even know this man.
βWere his hands better than mine?β His voice cuts through the quiet like velvet over a blade. βOr were you just trying to get my attention?β
His fist slams into the wall beside your head β not threatening, but loud enough to shake the stars. You donβt even flinch.
Youβve never felt safer in your life.
βWell,β he breathes, close enough now to taste the ghost of his cologne, βcongratulations. Youβve got it.β
You donβt speak. Your eyes are already saying too much.
βTell me,β he says, voice tightening at the edges, βwould you really rather have him paw at you like some entitled frat boy, all rough hands and zero grace β like youβre something cheap he can break in public?β
His fingers brush your cheek now, and it's like lightning in reverse: soft, slow, charged.
βBecause all I wantβ¦β He swallows. His thumb grazes your lip again. βIs to learn you with my hands. Slowly. Thoroughly. Like you deserve.β
He tilts his head, studying your face like itβs a painting heβs about to steal. βSo tell me. Would you trade that?β
He still hasnβt crossed a line you wouldnβt let him, but somehow heβs miles away from youβwhen he should already be skin to skin, breath to breath. Thatβs the kind of closeness you both know youβve circled around all night. But it never quite happens.
βI want to study you,β he murmurs, eyes heavy with something too serious for a party night. βLike something rare. I still lose my mind when I look at you.β
His head dips toward your neck with aching slowness, and your breath escapes as a soft, involuntary moan. His hands pull you closer, but thatβs allβno further. Just that same damn tension in the air, thick enough to drown in. He does nothing more. He only breathes you in like he needs the scent to remember where he is. Then his forehead rests on your shoulder.
Heβs giving up. You feel it before he says a word.
βI should stop,β he breathes out, like the words weigh more than he does. βBut youβre magnetic. I canβt look away.β
His face is closeβtoo close. His voice hums through you like a static current, rattling your ribs and melting your insides together until youβre not sure whatβs yours and whatβs his. Then he presses his forehead to yours.
Andβ
βI need to leave,β he says suddenly, like heβs trying to save whatβs left of his willpower. βBefore I do something we canβt walk back from.β
One final touch. His hands cradle your cheeks, warm and impossibly tender. Then he kisses your foreheadβsoft, reverentβand disappears into the hallway, trailing the ghost of his cologne behind him.
You're left there: vision blurred, lungs burning, and a tide of tears prickling behind your eyes, unsure if youβre mourning a kiss that didnβt happen, or everything it almost promised.
After what feels like a hundred yearsβand at least three emotional deathsβTaehyung finally shows up. His designer suit looks like it lost a bar fight.
βBaby, what the hell? Jungkook found me in the middle of a lecture and said I had to rescue you from emotional implosion. You alright, or just halfway to exile?β
His face is serious enough to make you cry harderβwhich you do, directly onto the lapel of his outrageously expensive jacket.
βIβm ruining your suit,β you mumble, muffled against his chest. βTears. Mascara. Poor choices.β
He cradles your face with a sigh. βThatβs whatβs on your mind right now?β
βYou paid, like, a kidney for this thing,β you reply, smacking his chest like it's his fault youβre this dramatic.
βRelax. I wonβt tell your parents,β he whispers conspiratorially. That earns him another weak slapβand a broken laugh from you. He laughs too, curses softly under his breath, then throws his arm over your shoulder like a mob boss dragging you out of a crime scene. He stops to tell your friends youβre alive and vaguely stable, thanks them for the chaos, grabs your purse, and youβre both headed back across the lake to the place you pretend is βhome.β
By the time you're near the steps, the alcohol hits like a truck and your inner monologue gains a microphone.
βTaehyung, I donβt love him, you know?β you mutter, wobbling like a Bambi-themed disaster.
βWho? Chris? That sentient hair gel? The dude so bland the gods spat him out mid-creation and dropped him in your DMs?β
You pause. βWow. That was vivid,β you laugh, then immediately wince. βGod. My head. How much did I drink?β
βEnough to fuel a frat party and a priestβs confession,β he says. You try to hit him againβmissβand he catches your hand midair like heβs babysitting a drunk ballet dancer.
βOkay, no more ninja moves. Three more steps and youβre safely in your tragic little dorm.β
You barely make it into the dorm hallway before your knees start to mutiny. Youβre walking like a drunk cat in stilettosβif the cat had recently survived emotional trauma and one tequila too many.
βHey,β you slur, βwanna hear a joke?β
You glance over at Taehyung.
He doesnβt even blink. Just stares at you like youβre the reason the planetβs tilted.
βYou already look like one,β he deadpans. Then sighs like heβs just realized he missed his spa appointment for this.
He drops to one knee, rips your heels off like heβs defusing a bomb, and before you can protestβbamβyouβre airborne.
βPut me down,β you groan, the nausea bubbling dangerously. βIβm gonna be sick.β
βIf you throw up on my suit,β he says calmly, raising the heels and your bag in one hand like a stylish executioner, βI swear I will launch you out this window and claim it was divine intervention. Now shut up and help me find your damn room before I lose brain cells.β
You wheeze out a laugh. βYouβre my favorite sibling, you know that?β
βThere are only two of us, and youβre objectively worse,β he replies, adjusting your weight with a grunt. βLetβs not get emotional. Youβve still got raccoon eyes.β
You sag into him, sniffling despite yourself. He holds you tighter, steady like gravity, and annoyingly good at this.
Itβs always him.
Always your brother, dragging your tragic self out of bars and bathrooms like the reluctant family therapist he never asked to be.
At your door, he jerks his chin. βKick the door open. Be useful.β
You do. It creaks open. The dorm smells like something vaguely clean and institutional. Better than wherever you just got rescued from.
Next thing you know, heβs unloading your bag, helping you to the bathroom, peeling off your false lashes like surgical tape. Youβre half-asleep while heβs dabbing mascara off your face with a look of paternal exhaustion.
Moments later, youβre cocooned in warm blankets. The world fades. All thatβs left is your brotherβs cologne, your shame, and the warm, suffocating hug of Egyptian cotton.
Youβve survived.
Barely. Again.
οΎπΆοΎπΆ
Apparently, the universeβs little circus isnβt overβbecause you wake up to absolute hell.
Screaming. Panic. More screaming. Your head's ringing like a fire alarm inside a blender.
βWE DONβT HAVE TIME, GET YOUR ASS UP!β Adriana screeches into your ear like sheβs been personally cursed by your existence. Her hair whips your face as she flails.
βMe? Up?β you croak, arms flopping outward like a hungover Disney princess. The sun slaps your eyes like it has a grudge.
βYes. You. Thirty minutes to class. Move or die,β she barks, mid-panic.
You consider the consequences. Maybe you could bribe someone. Fake a fever. Forge a death certificate. Because right now, your body feels like your soul was mugged during the night and duct-taped back in upside down.
βDonβt even think about skipping,β Adriana calls from the bathroom. βMiss Scarlett will roast you alive. And frankly? Youβll deserve it.β
Sheβs halfway through yelling when she adds, βTaehyung dropped off your uniform. No time to shower. Perfume. The toxic kind.β
Of course sheβs redoing her makeupβyou could tell by the one tragic winged eyeliner she had when she burst in.
You drag yourself upright, groaning like a wounded animal. On your nightstand: painkillers, water, and a folded note.
Through half-shut eyes, you read:
I can only imagine what you look like waking up. These should help with the hangover.
P.S. Uniformβs on the bed.
Love,
Your Suffering Brother, Taehyung.
You pop the pill, chug the water, and wonder if reincarnation mightβve been the better option.
Meanwhile, Adrianaβs speed-dressing like sheβs going to war. βYou're still not ready? Weβre so dead. Like expelled-into-the-sun dead.β
βShe canβt be that terrifying,β you mutter, finding your uniform with the grace of a reanimated corpse.
βSheβs the nightmare. I think she might be legally undead. Move your ass.β
She herds you into the bathroom like a furious shepherd with eyeliner.
You splash your face and shout out, βWhere are the other girls?β
βGone. Ran for their lives. Unlike you, Iβm the idiot who stayed to parent the hungover cryptid in bed.β Her voice is both dramatic and deeply offended.
Next thing you know, youβre hauling yourself through a stampede of half-awake students, backpack flapping, skirt barely surviving the wind resistance. Adrianaβs voice slices through the chaos like a siren from hell.
βHurry up! Iβve seen senior citizens sprint faster!β
You nearly trip, grabbing your skirt before it catches a breeze and reveals your existential crisis.
Adriana gets there firstβof course she doesβand doubles over, wheezing like she just ran a marathon in heels.
βYou run like thereβs a funeral waiting for you at the finish line,β she gasps, then wheezes out a laugh.
βLook whoβs talking,β you snap, wiping sweat off your face.
βThat was fun. I wonβt even be mad if the Black Widow of Academia puts me on her naughty list.β She shoves the lecture hall door open. More students shuffle inβthankfully, youβre not the last disaster to arrive.
The room looks like a medieval wine cellar had a baby with a TED Talk stage. Stone walls, creaky beams, and just enough modern tech to remind you youβre still paying tuition in the 21st century.
You donβt think. You just follow Adriana like a moth trailing glitter. Sheβs your GPS through the hangover haze.
You sit down next to her. Or collapse. Depends on your definition.
βExactly how much did you drink?β you mutter, massaging your temples.
βEnough to spiritually leave my body,β she says, fixing her eyeliner in a compact mirror with terrifying precision.
βThen why do you look like a goddess while I look like a legally dead raccoon?β
βGenetics. Or witchcraft.β She shrugs. βYou donβt look that bad. Kind of tragic-chic.β
βYou donβt feel hungover? Not even a little?β
βItβs my gift. That, and supernatural intuition. Like right nowβI can feel her coming. Miss Scarlett. My knees are buzzing.β
βYou sound like someoneβs grandma who predicts rain based on joint pain,β you scoff.
βAnd yet youβre still following me like Iβm the last functioning neuron in your brain,β she fires back.
Touche.
You're still laughingβgenuinely, for onceβwhen a presence flutters into the periphery. Janessa. All gloss and effortless grace, like she stepped out of a skincare ad and into your personal space. She drops into the seat near yours with the elegance of someone whoβs never had to hustle for anything but attention. Her smile is bright, a little too brightβlike sheβs selling something and you just havenβt realized youβre the product.
You wave back, because manners. And possibly mild brain damage.
βI wouldnβt trust her if she came wrapped in bubble wrap and wearing a clergy badge,β Adriana murmurs, not looking up from her mirror.
You glance sideways. βSorry, what?β
βSheβs got that lookβlike someone whoβd cry at your funeral, but only after switching out your medication.β
You stare at her.
Adriana sighs like youβre the slow one. βIβm just saying. Something about her feels... curated. Like if you scratched the surface, you'd find a copyright symbol.β
βOh, so itβs one of your psychic episodes again?β you ask. βIs it the breeze talking this time? Or did your bronzer start humming the Twilight Zone theme?β
Adriana laughs, honest and sudden, nearly dropping her compact. βYouβre awful,β she grins, and thereβs something proud in it.
Then her expression softensβno drama, no eye-roll, just that rare, unnerving seriousness she keeps tucked behind all the sass. βBut seriously. Iβm not trying to play bodyguard. You can make your own choices. I just know what I feel. And what I feel is: if that girl ever hugs you, check your pockets after.β
You turn back toward Janessa. Sheβs still smiling. Legs crossed just so. Hands folded like sheβs never cursed in her life.
You nod slowly.
Just in case.
She storms in like sheβs been summoned by Satan and the Board of Educationβburning holes in reality with that laser-beam stare. Her gaze alone could cremate a man. Glasses adjusted with surgical precision, heels clicking like death knells, and not a single wrinkle in sightβher outfitβs so pristine it could file taxes and judge you for your credit score.
She looks like someone whoβs never made a typo, never cried in public, and definitely never farted in her life. The sheer smugness rolling off her like an expensive perfume triggers your gag reflex, especially before breakfast.
For the next hour, she lectures about the legal system like she invented it during a blackout. Adriana whispers that she teaches finance and literacy too, which makes you consider a career change. Or death. Honestly, either sounds peaceful.
You almost start clawing at the desk with your bare hands until it happensβa boy checks his phone under the table. Big mistake. She slaps her palm against his desk with the kind of force that could legally qualify as domestic terrorism. And then launches into a rant about discipline and respect that lasts longer than the explanation of the actual curriculum.
Adriana doesnβt say a word. She simply mimics pulling out an invisible pistol, cocks it dramatically, βfires,β and lets her head drop onto the desk with a theatrical flop. You press your hand to your mouth, wheezing silently. Because if you laugh, even once, youβre pretty sure sheβll pull a real gun from that briefcase and give you both a pop quiz on mortality.
Final lecture of the day: Applied Math. Just the name sounds like a punishment. The classroomβs been Frankensteinβd together with three other departments, so when the doors open, itβs less of an entrance and more of a stampedeβlike someone just detonated a student bomb.
You and Adriana managed to survive lunch off-campus, inhaling overpriced sandwiches and gossip, then sprinted back like you were being chased by debt.
You tug at your uniformβitβs less of an outfit now and more like a synthetic exoskeleton. Adriana drags you to the seat near the window. βBest vibes here,β she says with the confidence of someone whoβs saged her dorm. Oddly enough, you believe her. Outside, the rainβs started: slow, brooding, theatrical. Perfect for dread and main character crises.
The class itself? Surprisingly tolerable. Mr. Hanksβwho looks like he sleeps in spreadsheetsβactually makes math sound coherent. Adriana, meanwhile, is plotting your evening. Sheβs booked dinner for both of you, and no, you didnβt get a vote. Her threats are always wrapped in charm and thinly-veiled blackmail.
Thenβyou feel it.
The weight. The presence.
Jungkook.
Of course, heβs here. No uniform. No effort. Just that brooding aura that screams I ruined three hearts this week and donβt even feel bad about it. Heβs staring again. Those absurd eyes of his practically reading your browser history. You try to look away. You fail. His gaze is a full-time job.
As the lecture ends and people start collecting their mortal remains, Mr. Hanks scans the room.
And then: your name.
Adriana gives you a pep talk thatβs one part support, two parts panic. Youβre too distracted by the why you of it all. As people file out, Jungkookβbecause of course he doesβwalks right past you. Too close. Smirking like a devil who just found his next case study.
Hanks waits until the roomβs silent. Then, with the speed of a dying fax machine, he says:
βMiss, I regret to inform youββ
You're already planning your villain origin story.
ββthat I must ask you for a favor. Or rather, an assignment.β
βIβm listening, Mr. Hanks,β you manage, barely.
βYouβre new here,β he says. βAnd yetβyou were alert, engaged, evenβ¦ bright. That kind of energy stands out. Itβs something we rarely see these days.β
Compliment or trap? You donβt know yet.
βThereβs a studentβveryβ¦ unconventional. Difficult. But gifted. I need someone competent to keep him on track.β
Your soul knows whatβs coming.
βIβd like you to become Jeon Jungkookβs academic mentor. Youβll receive proper credit, of course.β
You stare. Blink. Your brain briefly disconnects.
βJeon Jungkook?β you say it like a slur.
βYes. Any objections?β
So itβs that kind of trap.
βNo, of course not,β you lie like a professional.
βWonderful. Review the materials. Reach out to him when ready.β He shoos you out with a flick, like youβre some cursed intern.
You step into the hallway, universe slightly tilting.
This wasnβt the plan. You were supposed to avoid Jungkook like a bad Tinder match. But now? Now you're his tutor. After what happened. After he touched you like a secret and disappeared like a sin.
Now heβs your responsibility.
Your life just got hijacked by a bad boy with a stare problem. And the worst part? Some twisted part of you isnβt even mad about it.
And something tells youβthis is only the prologue.
βΛβ‘ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.
βΛβ‘ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N
βΛβ‘ Age restrictions: 18+
βΛβ‘ Number of chapter: 19/?
βΛβ‘ Words: 150 649 k (ongoing)
βΛβ‘ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning
βΛβ‘ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @someoneelse0109, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much π₯Ίπ€ππ«Άπ»
βΛβ‘ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @someoneelse0109, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97, @taeloversblog, @songbyeonkim, @miniruuu, @hubbytaehyung, @queen1599, @goldenboysmuse , @nikkinikj, @kookiesncreamri, @guwol, @unholyforjk, @hisdecalcomania17, @kooklovee, @theycallmebaepsaee, @kash98, @aqueshasteele, @xsyruhh, @byjeonjungkooked, @pbell7, @jungkook26273, @luckysuitwasteland, @drwonderbread (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)
βΛβ‘ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text π₯Ή
β‘ Index chapters β΄
β‘ Chapter 1. An enemy turned savior
β‘ Chapter 2. The price of a lie
β‘ Chapter 3. A sweet falling
β‘ Chapter 4. A problem of your own making
β‘ Chapter 5. A Game of Love for Freedom
β‘ Chapter 6. The dissonance of sympathy and hatred
β‘ Chapter 7. Time to start
β‘ Chapter 8. Established and Violated
β‘ Chapter 9. Stay away, stay close
β‘ Chapter 10. Home
β‘ Chapter 11. The love he doesnβt know and the desire he canβt control
β‘ Chapter 12. The first date
β‘ Chapter 13. Who are we?
β‘ Chapter 14. Past mistakes
β‘ Chapter 15. Bond. Devotion. Submission. Madness
β‘ Chapter 16. Fate, which mocks
β‘ Chapter 17. Fate, which destined
β‘ Chapter 18. A real arranged marriage
β‘ Chapter 19. The truth as it is
Φ΄ ΰ£ͺ Λ ΰ£ͺ hungover β jeon jungkook ! series α° Φ΄ no taglist
summary: youβre back in town, not sure for how longβ temporary, maybe. and definitely not expecting to see him. because itβs been five years. five years of no calls, no messages, no reason to cross paths again.
but you do, and it doesnβt hurt. it feels unsettlingly easy, like muscle memory. like nothingβs changed .... except you start to realise , everything has.
genre / au :
smau + written blurbs
ex-situantionship to ???
slow burn + heavy nostalgia
content: (post-university) working lives, mature themes, mentions of past intimacy, unresolved feelings, emotional whiplash (one minute they argue, the next they laugh), soft angst, bittersweet moments, some awkward moments, slow pacing, swearing, mild jealousy.
it doesnβt start with love. it starts with a glance at a party and a mouth that tastes like smoke and something sheβs never been able to forget. one night turns to two and suddenly itβs three months of 2 am texts of craving each other like poison and returning to each other like a bad habit.
itβs not love, it canβt be. because love would mean facing it, naming it and choosing it. so they keep fucking instead. keep lying instead. keep hoping the hunger will swallow the ache.
warnings: mature themes | sexual activity | oral sex (f & m recieving) | explicit sexual content | choking | intense sex | fingering | unprotected sex | rough sex | dirty talking | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | sex at semi public spaces | birth control pills | creampie | desperate intimacy | sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism | consensual sex while intoxicated | masturbation | strong language | smoking | alcohol I drug | toxic | avoidance | commitment issues | self sabotage |
this story is inspired by 2AM by sza and come and see me by partynextdoor & drake. the vibe of those songs is just too good and honestly , the fwb trope has me in a chokehold especially when the guy is jeon jungkook.
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. all characters, events and scenarios are entirely fictional and is created for entertainment purposes only. this story is not meant to reflect the real personalities or lives of the idols mentioned. please read with an open mind and remember that everything here exists in a fictional universe. please do not copy or spread hate.
You and Jungkook have known each other your whole lives. Childhood best friends turned almost something more. Heβs charming, popular, and scared of commitment. Youβre ambitious, guarded, and tired of being a maybe.
After one kiss changes everything, you realize wanting him isnβt enough if he wonβt choose you back. But walking away is easier said than done.
University brings distance, jealousy, and new people. Youβre ready to move on. Heβs finally starting to realize he canβt. Not when itβs always been you.Β
pairing:Β childhoodbestfriend!jungkook x (fem) reader
genre:Β angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, kinda toxic but delicious, mutual pining, fluff & eventual smut
β₯ SUMMARY: youβre a newbie to the busy streets of brooklyn, new york. youβve left everything behind to accomplish your dreams of being a famous american director, itβs all youβve ever wished for. but brooklyn has a lot more plans for you, bringing two of the most beautiful men into your life.
β₯ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader | neighbours | fckboy!jungkook β jimin x fem!reader | friends to lovers? | french!jimin
β₯ WARNINGS: major f!ckboy jungkook, cheating, mentions of eating disorders, implied and actual smut, bad language, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, trauma, miscommunication, implied and physical violence, lack of self respect and more.
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: lowkey chaebol, boyfriend!jugkook, angst, fluff, light smut. boyfriend au.
summary: your boyfriend's pretty girl best friend isn't your biggest fan and keeps hogging up your alone time with him.
note: this was written a lifetime ago! it hasn't been re-visited since i finished writing it so there may be plot holes so like π ignore those pleek
Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, angst, smut, fluff
Word Count: 15k (currently)
Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.
Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, angst, smut, fluff, childhood lovers, abandonment, ghosting, young (teenage) pregnancy, mentions of parental death, mentions of absent parent, resentment, angst, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, brief homelessness, shelters, co-parenting, growth, unintentional parental neglect, depression, fighting, arguments, explicit: praising, kissing, missionary, doggy, riding, oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sex, breastplay, riding, phone (FaceTime) sex, body worship,
A/N: OKAY so I know the title sounds weird asf but itβll make sense, i promise π bold is jkβs pov - regular text is y/nβs. Since this is an ongoing series, I'll update warnings as needed.
β‘ MASTERLIST
βββββββ
Part 1: 8.9k
Part 2: 6.4k
Part 3: formatting
Part 4: formatting
Part 5: writing
tba!
βββββββ
β‘ MASTERLIST
β‘ requests are welcome β‘ taglist β‘
These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.
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