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IN WHICH, jeon jungkook knew he shouldnât keep coming over, and you knew better than to let him in. but rain has a way of softening bad decisions, and by the time his wifeâs name lights up your room, he's already too deep in the lie to pretend either of you are innocent.
pairings `married!jungkook x f!reader genre `affair au, angst, smut, taboo romance, toxicity, emotional infidelity warnings `MDNI, explicit content ahead, infidelity/adultery, cheating, jungkook is married, morally grey characters, toxic relationship dynamics, guilt, jealousy, swearing, making out, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, protected sex (WRAP IT UP), dirty talk wc 9.1k
a/n hi loves, bit of a longer fic today, debating if i should make this into a mini series... also quick reminder, I do not condone unfaithfulness in any capacity, nor do glorify it, this is purely fictional and for reader's entertainment. enjoy! ;)
119
First thing you learned about jeon jungkook was that he lied with his hands before he lied with his mouth. His mouth could get him out of almost anything.
By then, deception had became part of this routine. It told his wife he was working late, it told his friends he was exhausted, it even told himself he was only stopping by to see you just to say "hello".
But it seemed his hands failed to get the memo.
They trembled extravagantly when he was angry. They lingered when he should've let go. Every time he reached for your waist, there was that split second where his grip tightened first, like he'd forgotten himself.
You knew better than to think about that.
âYou shouldn't be here,â you say. It's a weak protest when you're already gripping the front of his coat and pulling him closer. Jungkook exhales through his nose. It almost sounds like a laugh, except neither of you found anything funny about this anymore.
â'Was just stopping byâŚâ
You roll your eyes. "You said that last time, jungkook.â
âYeah.â His gaze drops briefly to your mouth before finding your eyes again. âI know.â
Which was somehow worse. Before you can think of another argument, his lips were on yours. No apology, no overcompensating explanation, no asking if heâs allowed to come back into your life and put his hands on you like the last few months didnât happen.
Just his mouth against yours, soft and gentle at first, then unbearable, those long fingers firm beneath your chin like he could tilt the answer out of you.
You mean to bite him.
You almost do.
Then his knee nudges between your thighs, and the sound that leaves you is humiliatingly soft.
You hear his breath catch.
No, you feel it more than hear it, the hitch in his chest when your hands slips beneath his coat and find his waist through the thin fabric of his shirt. Thin enough that you could feel the rigid tension of him underneath when your fingers moved lightly over his abdomen.
Your nails dig in, and he groans as if you may have genuinely hurt him, and you know what, maybe you wanted to.
âFuck,â Jungkook mutters, mouth dragging from your lips to the corner of your jaw and back again, greedy and unsteady.
âI drove past your place twice before I came up."
His voice goes quieter.
â'Missed you.â
Damn him.
You hate how quickly it lands.
And you hate that some part of you has been waiting to hear it. It annoys you, how little time jungkook needed to undo you.
You had a whole speech prepared. Something about boundaries. About the way he keeps showing up soaked through like that was his excuse. About your floor and how youâre still the one wiping it up afterwards, asshole.
It made sense when you were alone with it, turning it over in your head.
Now heâs standing here, dripping onto your brand new ergonomic mat like nothing you said had ever really stuck to begin with, and the speech starts to feel a lot less important than the fact that youâre still letting him in.
You get as far as his last name.
âJeonââ
He presses his lips against yours in a slow, tantalizing peck before you could even finish. like he was desperately waiting for that sound, just so he could steal it from you.
And he did. For one pathetic second, you let yourself melt into it.
But then you remembered. You were upset.
You caught his lip between your teeth.
He exhales under his, a curse slipping through your lips in korean.
It landed closer than it should've.
His palm slapped against the wall beside your shoulder, and the sound made you flinch before you could pretend it didnât. Rain from last hour's heavy shower dripped from his hair and onto your cheek.
It was ridiculous. The kind of thing that would've made you laugh.
Instead, you were distracted by the weight of him standing so close. His coat drenched and cool against your hands, but his skin underneath proved to be the exact opposite. His fingers found bare skin under your sweater. The rough edge of a callus.
The cool press of his ring.
Every thought youâd had a second ago had vanished.
But it should've brought you back to yourself.
It should've been enough to make you shove him away and tell him to go home to the woman whose name lived in his phone with a heart beside it, while your name had settled for being â119â.
His thumb dragged lightly over your side before he tipped his forehead against yours.
âDonât,â you say softly.
A crease forms between his brows.
âDonât what?â His voice softening, âTalk to me.â
That was the problem with jungkook.
He always said things like that as if talking had ever saved either of you. As if words didnât make everything worse, didnât crawl into the quiet afterward and sit there with their knees pulled to their chests, staring at you until morning.
So you donât talk.
You put both hands on his chest and shoved him back.
Not hard enough to send him away. Hard enough to make him understand that if heâs going to stand in your hallway with rain in his hair, a ring on his finger, and another womanâs life clinging to him like cologne, he doesnât get to be tender about it.
His back hits the opposite wall with a dull thud. For one charged second, he just looks at you, chest rising beneath your palms, lips parted, eyes gone darker than the hallway should allow.
Then he smiles, barely.
It pisses you off.
âYou think this is funny?â
âNo,â he answers, and his hand closes around your wrist, not to stop you, only to feel you there. âI think you missed me too.â
Your jaw tightens.
Jungkook sees the answer before you give it to him. His smile fades first. Then his expression shifts into something hungrier, rougher around the edges, and you hate that he knows you well enough to read the shame before you can hide it.
âI hate when you do that,â you say.
âWhat?â
âAct like missing me gives you the right.â
He holds your gaze, his thumb moving once over the inside of your wrist. âIt doesnât.â
âBut you still use it.â
âYeah,â he says quietly. âI do.â
The honesty lands like a slap.
It should make you step back. Instead, it pulls something mean out of you. You reach for his left hand and lift it between you, turning it until the gold band catches the thin hallway light.
His fingers flex.
You feel the resistance travel through him. A small, private panic.
âTake it off.â
He clicks his tongue before his eyes flick to yours. âAish, don't start that.â
âI said take it off."
His mouth presses together, and for a moment the whole apartment seems to shrink around the two of you: the wet shoes by your door, the unopened mail on the console, the neighborâs television murmuring through the wall, the damp heat of him so close that every breath you take has him in it.
âYou think that changes anything?â he asks.
âNo.â You look at the ring, then at him. âI just donât want her touching me.â
The words go through him cleanly. You see it in the way his shoulders lose their shape, in the tiny twitch near his mouth, in the guilt that arrives exactly when itâs least useful.
He shouldnât look hurt. He has no right.
Still, his hand lowers.
The ring slides over his knuckle with a faint scrape, stubborn for half a second before it gives. He holds it in his palm like it weighs more than it should, then places it on the narrow table beside your keys.
The little sound it makes against the wood is obscene.
âë¤ ë,â he says, voice low. Done.
You stare at the bare strip of skin on his finger.
Itâs worse, somehow. Without it, he looks almost available.
Jungkook reaches for you again, and this time you let him. His palms settle on your waist, warmer now, his thumbs pressing into the soft give of your sides under your sweater. He doesnât kiss you right away. He watches your face first, as if heâs waiting for the moment you decide to punish him or forgive him, as if he hasnât figured out by now that you usually do both.
âTell me to leave,â he murmurs.
Your laugh comes out thin. âIs that what you want?â
He shakes his head no before dragging out a soft, âěëě.â No.
âThen donât put this on me.â
His eyes close briefly.
Good.
Youâre glad he feels it. Youâre glad there are still places in him that bruise.
When he opens them again, whatever patience he had left is gone. He pulls you in by the waist and kisses you like the argument was only foreplay neither of you had the dignity to name. His mouth is hot, urgent, tasting faintly of mint and the rain. You wrap your arms around his nape, dragging him closer while he backs you out of the hallway and toward the bedroom by memory, like he belongs here, like he hasnât learned the geography of your apartment through betrayal.
The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.
You sit down hard, and jungkook follows, bending over you, one hand cupping the side of your neck as his mouth moves down your jaw. He kisses the place beneath your ear that he learned too early. Your hands push his coat off his shoulders.
It lands heavily on the floor, wet fabric folding over itself.
âYouâre dripping everywhere,â you mutter.
His laugh is breathless against your skin. âIâll clean it.â
âYou never clean anything.â
âIâll buy you a new mat.â
âYou said that last time too.â
He lifts his head, eyes bright with something almost boyish, almost cruel in how familiar it is. âDidn't you force me to buy you a new one?"
âIt's the new one youâre ruining, genius.â
The corner of his mouth pulls up again, but the smile doesnât last. It never does anymore. Not when his gaze drops to your mouth. Not when your fingers skim the waistband of his trousers. Not when the space between you starts making demands neither of you can dress up as anything else.
He sinks to his knees.
Your breath catches before he even touches you.
The sight of him there should feel powerful. Sometimes it does. Tonight, it feels dangerous. Jungkook on his knees between yours, hair damp and falling into his eyes, hands resting on your thighs with that careful pressure he uses when heâs pretending heâs not already losing control.
He looks up at you.
âYouâre mad,â he says.
âBrilliant observation.â
His thumbs move slowly over your knees. âYou can be mad.â
âI wasnât waiting for permission?â
âRight.â His mouth brushes the inside of your thigh over the thin fabric of your shorts. âI mean it. Be mad.â
Your fingers tighten in the sheets. âDonât try to make this noble.â
âIâm not.â
âHere you go. making it sound like if weâre honest enough about being awful, it becomes something else.â
He stills for a second.
Then his lips press to your thigh again, softer this time. âDoes it?â
You look down at him, at the wet lashes, the mouth that has lied to everyone and still somehow makes you believe the worst truths.
âNo.â
The answer hangs there.
He looks up at you like heâs waiting for an order, but his hands are already sliding up your thighs, already greedy under the hem of your sweater.
âYouâre shaking,â he says.
âIâm cold.â
âLiar.â
You lean down and catch his jaw in your hand, squeezing just enough to make his eyes darken. âYou donât get to narrate me tonight either, okay?"
His tongue touches the inside of his cheek. âThen tell me what to do.â
The obedience in his voice is fake. The hunger isnât.
You lift your hips, and he hooks his fingers into your shorts, dragging them down your legs with none of the patience he usually uses to torture you. Your underwear goes with them, damp and sticky already, and you hate the way his gaze drops between your thighs and turns feverish.
âěě,â he says under his breath. Jesus.
You snap your knees wider, daring him to look away. âDonât pray now.â
A laugh breaks out of him, low and wrecked, and then his mouth was on your thigh again. He kisses high, open-mouthed and wet, teeth grazing skin as his hands shove your sweater up over your hips. His lips move closer to where youâre aching, slow enough to make you furious.
âJungkook.â
âMm?â
âIf you continue to tease me, Iâll make you regret coming tonight.â
He looks up from between your legs, mouth hovering too close, eyes too bright. âYou already do that every time.â
Then he licks you.
Your stomach jumps. A sound catches in your throat before you can kill it, and jungkook groans like your pussy hits him harder than anything you said in the hallway. He spreads you with his thumbs and drags his tongue through your slit again, slower, filthier, collecting the slick heat of you with a kind of shameless hunger that makes your hands fly to his hair.
âFuckââ You tug hard. âDonât look so pleased with yourself.â
He answers by closing his lips around your clit.
Your hips buck.
The room blurs at the edges as he sucks, soft at first, then harder when your thighs tense around his head. He eats you out like heâs starving and resentful about it, tongue flattening against you, then flicking quick, then dragging slow enough to make you let out a soft whine.
The wet sounds were obscene, slick and hot and intimate, his mouth working between your thighs while rain taps the glass like impatient fingers.
âUnhâ shit, kook.â
His hands clamp around your thighs, holding you open when you try to close them around his ears. He pulls back just enough for his breath to spill over your pussy, warm and uneven.
âMm, there you go,â he mutters. âLet me hear how much you fucking hate me.â
You yank his hair until his head tilts back. His lips shine. His chin is wet with you. The sight makes something ugly and needy twist in your chest.
His expression flickers.
He kisses your inner thigh once, almost gently, and slides two fingers into you.
Your grip on his hair tightens as your body takes him in, the stretch sudden and deep. He curls his fingers, searching, and finds exactly where youâre weak. You gasp so sharply it hurts.
âYeah, right there?" he asks, voice rough.
âShut the fuck up.â
He grins and does it again.
Your head falls back, a moan spilling out before you can stop it. âOhâ fuck, there.â
Jungkookâs mouth returns to your clit, then thereâs nothing polite left in the room. His fingers pump into you with a wet, steady rhythm, knuckles slick, palm grinding against your entrance while his tongue circles and sucks your clit until your thighs start trembling around his shoulders. He moans into your cunt, and the vibration rolls through you so hard your spine arches.
You try to hold on to anger.
He makes it difficult when his mouth is this dirty, when heâs licking you like he wants to crawl inside your skin and live under your pulse. He knows how to make you break in layers. Knows how to make you curse at him, then beg without using the word. Knows how to keep his fingers deep and his tongue ruthless until every nerve in your body is pulled tight.
âDonât come yet,â he says mouth full of you.
You laugh breathlessly, furious. âDonât tell me what to do.â
â'Want to be inside you when you do.â
The words send heat tearing through you.
He feels the way you clench around his fingers and looks up, smugness softened by raw need.
You hate him for that most of all.
You push at his shoulder, and he pulls away at once, fingers slipping out of you with a wet sound that makes your face burn. His mouth is a mess. Your arousal shines on his lips, his chin, the edges of that devastating smirk.
âTake your clothes off,â you tell him.
Jungkook rises like his knees donât work properly. He strips fast, shirt first, the damp fabric peeling away from his torso and landing on the floor. His tattoos shift over his arm as he fumbles with his belt. The buckle clinks. His trousers drop. His briefs follow, and then heâs standing there hard and flushed and breathing like heâs already been fucked half out of his mind.
Your eyes drag over him.
He notices.
âStill mad?â he asks.
You reach for the nightstand and grab a condom, tossing it at his chest. âStill married?â
His mouth snaps shut.
He rips the foil open with his teeth.
Thereâs something deeply satisfying about watching his hands shake as he rolls it on. He tries to hide it, but you see everything. The tightness in his jaw, the flex in his stomach, the way his cock twitches when your legs spread wider on the bed.
He crawls over you like he means to pin you down.
But you press your foot to his chest and stop him.
His eyes lift.
âAh ah,â you say. âLie back.â
A muscle jumps in his cheek.
For a second, you think he might argue. Then he swallows, nods once, and shifts onto the bed, sitting against the pillows with his back braced against the headboard. His cock stands hard against his stomach, condom slick in the low light, his thighs spread, his chest moving too fast.
You climb over him slowly.
His hands reach for your hips immediately.
You slap them away.
âNo.â
He freezes, eyes blown wide.
âYou donât get to touch,â you say, settling over his lap without taking him in yet. Your pussy brushes the length of him, and both of you suck in a breath. âYou touch when I say you can.â
Jungkookâs fingers curl against the sheets. âFuck, you're trying to kill me."
âYouâll live.â
âYeah?â
You lower yourself enough to drag your slick heat along the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate. His head tips back against the headboard with a dull thump, throat exposed, mouth falling open.
âMmh,â he groans. âDonât do that if you donât want me to come fast."
âI want you to.â You grind down again, coating him, feeling him twitch beneath you. âI want you stupid. I want you ruined. I want you walking out of here remembering exactly whose bed you were in.â
His eyes snap open, dark and dangerous. âI never forget.â
You throw his words back at him. âLiar.â
He reaches for you again on instinct, and you catch his wrist, pinning it beside his head.
The position changes something.
His breath catches. Your body hovers over his, your knees braced on either side of his hips, your wet pussy sliding over his cock without letting him inside. He looks up at you with naked frustration, lips parted, hair damp against his forehead.
He could overpower you easily. He doesnât. That restraint makes the moment dirtier than force ever could.
âAsk,â you whisper.
His brows draw together. âFor what?â
âFor permission.â
His laugh comes out strained. âYouâre enjoying this too much.â
You lean down until your mouth brushes his. âAsk, jungkook.â
The sound he makes is almost a growl, but his hips stay still under you. âCan I touch you?â
âWhere?â
His eyes drop to your chest, your waist, the place where youâre making a slick mess of him. âEverywhere.â
âToo vague.â
His jaw flexes, and the humiliation of wanting makes his voice rougher. âYour hips. Your thighs. âWant to hold you while you ride me.â
A pulse of pleasure goes through you so sharp you almost give in too quickly.
Almost.
âGood,â you murmur, and sink down on him.
The stretch steals the next breath from both of you.
You take him slowly, inch by thick inch, your hands braced on his shoulders, your knees pressing into the mattress. Jungkookâs face twists, eyes squeezing shut as you slide down until heâs buried all the way inside you. The fullness is brutal after his fingers and mouth, deep enough to make your thighs shake before you even move.
His hands hover at your sides, waiting.
The obedience nearly breaks you.
âTouch me,â you say.
He grabs your hips like the words snap a leash.
His fingers dig into your flesh, hard enough to leave marks, and his head drops back again as you lift yourself halfway and sink down. A ragged groan tears out of him. You do it again, slower, letting yourself feel every inch of him drag against your walls.
âOhâ fuck yes,â you breathe.
Jungkook stares up at you like youâre the last thing heâll ever see. âYou feel insane.â
You tighten around him on purpose.
His hips jerk. âShitâ donâtââ
âDonât what?â You roll your hips, grinding down until your clit catches against him. âDonât make you feel good? Isnât that why you came here?â
His fingers flex on your hips. âI came here because I couldn't stop thinking about you.â
âYou came here because youâre selfish.â
âMmhâ yes,â he says, and the bluntness knocks something loose between you. His voice drops, stripped bare and ugly. âI am. Iâm selfish, âwanted you, âthought about this all night until I couldnât breathe.â
Your rhythm falters for half a second.
He feels it.
His grip tightens, helping you move now, guiding you up and down on his cock as his eyes burn into yours. ââThought about your mouth. Your hands. Your pussy. âThought about how wet that pussy gets when youâre mad at me. âThought about you telling me Iâm a bastard while you come all over me.â
A moan slips out of you, broken and unwilling.
His mouth curves, but thereâs pain in it.
âLike that,â he says. âDo it again.â
You ride him harder to shut him up.
The bed begins to creak under the rhythm, deep and steady, your body lifting and dropping on him while his cock fills you over and over.
Jungkookâs hands drag over your thighs, your waist, up under your sweater to bare skin. He pushes the fabric higher, impatient, and you yank it over your head for him, tossing it aside.
His gaze drops to your perky breasts.
The hunger on his face is immediate.
He sits up suddenly, still inside you, making you gasp as the angle shifts. His arms wrap around your back while his mouth closes over one nipple, hot and wet, sucking hard enough to send pleasure straight between your legs.
You grab his hair, grinding down on him as he licks and bites at your breast like he canât decide where he wants his mouth most.
âMmm, kookââ
He groans against your skin. âSay my name like that again.â
âNo.â
He thrusts up into you.
The movement punches a cry from your throat, louder than you expected, and he does it again, using his grip on your hips to drag you down while he drives up. The clean control of your riding fractures into something rougher, wetter, more desperate. Youâre bouncing on his cock now, taking him deep with each downward roll, slick sounds filling the room every time your bodies meet.
âLook at you,â he rasps, mouth against your chest. ââAct like youâre punishing me, but your pussyâs squeezing me like you missed me.â
You slap him.
Not hard enough to hurt badly. Hard enough to turn his face slightly and leave the room stunned.
Jungkook goes still inside you.
Your palm tingles.
Slowly, he turns back.
His eyes are black with want.
âAgain,â he says.
Your cunt clenches around him before you can stop it. He feels it, and his smile is wrecked, filthy, triumphant in a way that makes you furious enough to ride him harder. You plant both hands on his chest and shove him back against the pillows, taking control of the pace again. His hands fly to your hips, and this time you let him hold on as you fuck yourself on him, using him for friction, for fullness, for the terrible satisfaction of watching him fall apart beneath you.
His phone lights up on the nightstand.
The glow cuts across the dark room like a blade.
You donât look at first.
Jungkook does.
His face changes before you see the screen, and that tells you enough.
The phone buzzes.
Bzzzt.
Your gaze shifts.
Sowon.
The name sits there with a tiny heart beside it, bright and domestic and nauseating.
Bzzzt.
Jungkookâs cock was still inside you. His hands still on your hips. Your cunt still wet around him.
You stop moving.
His breathing is ragged, chest rising beneath your palms.
âAnswer it,â you say.
His eyes snap to yours. âNo.â
âAnswer your wife.â
âDon't.â
You grind down once, slow and cruel, and he chokes on the sound that comes out of him.
Bzzzt.
âAnswer it,â you tell him. âTell her where you are.â
His fingers dig into you. âStop.â
âWhy?â You lean closer, your mouth near his ear, your body clamped around him so tightly his hips twitch. âAfraid sheâll hear how hard you are?â
A rough curse leaves him.
The phone keeps vibrating.
You reach for it.
Jungkook catches your wrist before your fingers touch the screen.
For one suspended second, neither of you breathes.
Then the call ends.
Sowon â¤ď¸
3 Missed calls now
The screen goes dark, and the room becomes yours again, except it isnât. It has her in it now. Her name, his ring in the hallway, the ghost of whatever bed he left to come here.
Something mean rises in you, hot and sharp.
You lift yourself almost off him, then slam back down.
Jungkookâs head hits the pillow, a broken groan tearing from his throat. âUnhââ
âAnd you donât get to look guilty while youâre still inside me.â
His hands seize your hips. âI am guilty.â
âThen act like it.â
His eyes sharpened.
You ride him harder.
The rhythm turns filthy fast, all slick friction and blunt impact, your thighs burning as you bounce on his cock, your nails raking down his chest while he stares up at you like heâs being punished and blessed at the same time. His hips thrust up to meet you, rough little snaps that shove him deeper and make your voice break into helpless sounds you canât dress up as anything else.
âAhâ fuck, jungkookââ
âMm, yeah? Right there?â he grits out, sweat and rain still shining at his temples. âUse me. Fucking use me if thatâs what you need.â
âYouâd like that too much.â
âI like anything that keeps you on me.â
The honesty was disgusting.
But it made you wetter.
You hate that he can feel it, hate the way his mouth opens on a silent groan when your body slicks around him, taking him easier, louder. He reaches between you, thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your hips stutter. Pleasure sparks through you so suddenly your pace falters.
âNo,â he says, voice raw. âDonât stop.â
âYou donât get to tell meââ
âI know. I know, baby, I know.â
The word hits like a hand around your throat.
You freeze.
His face drains the instant he realizes.
The room fills with both of you breathing too hard.
âI told you,â you say, each word low and trembling, ânot to call me that.â
His hand leaves your clit, but his thumb remains slick against your skin. âIt slipped.
âI doubt that.â
His eyes hold yours, guilty and stubborn. âFine. I meant it.â
The confession lands with unbearable softness in the dirtiest possible place. You straddling him, full of him, your thighs spread over his hips while another womanâs missed call sits between you like a witness.
You should climb off.
You donât.
Instead, you lean down and bite his neck.
Jungkook groans, loud and ruined, his hands locking around your waist as his hips buck up into you. You bite harder, then soothe it with your tongue, and his whole body shudders beneath you.
âNo soft names,â you whisper against his skin. âNo playing a facade. No making this pretty because you canât stand what it is.â
His voice comes out uneven. âThen what do you want me to call you?â
You lift your head, holding his gaze as you start moving again, slow at first, grinding every inch of him into you.
âNothing,â you say. âI want you too fucked out to speak.â
His pupils blow wide.
Then you give him exactly that.
You ride him with both hands planted on his chest, hips rolling in deep, grinding circles before lifting and dropping again. He tries to talk at first, little fragments of curses and your name, but the harder you move, the less language he has. His mouth falls open. His brows pinch. His hands slide to your ass in a tight grip, helping you take him, pulling you down each time his hips thrust up.
The sound was obscene.
Wet skin. Creaking mattress. Your breath breaking. His low, strangled grunts. The slick slap of your body meeting his. Every noise tells the truth neither of you can survive saying cleanly.
You feel your orgasm building again, thicker this time, fed by anger and shame and the relentless pressure of him inside you. His thumb returns to your clit without permission, and youâre too far gone to stop him. The circles are messy now, desperate, but theyâre exactly right. Your thighs tremble around his hips.
Jungkook watches you start to fall apart.
âYeah, come on,â he rasps. âLet me feel it."
You shake your head, even as your body tightens. âYou donât even deserve it.â
âNo,â he agrees, breathless. âI donât.â
That should not be what does it.
It does.
Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you with a force that makes your rhythm collapse. You cry out, hips jerking, cunt clamping down around him in pulsing waves while jungkook swears beneath you, hands squeezing your ass as he fucks up into the tightness.
âFuckâ fuck, youâre so tightââ
Your body shakes over his, pleasure turning your anger molten, spreading through every nerve until all you can do is take the rough upward thrusts he gives you. His control is shredded now. You can see it in his face, hear it in the low, broken sounds spilling out of him.
He sits up again, arms locking around you, burying his face against your throat as he drives into you from below.
âIâm so close,â he whines.
âThen come.â
His grip tightens. âSay my name.â
You laugh breathlessly, cruel even now. âNo.â
His hips stutter.
You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his jaw in both hands. His eyes are glossy, desperate, fixed on you with a devotion that makes your chest hurt.
âLook at me while you do it,â you whisper. âLook at what you came here for.â
That ruins him.
Jungkook comes with a broken, guttural moan, hips slamming up one last time as his body locks beneath yours. His hands clutch you so hard it almost hurts, his face twisting with pleasure and guilt and something far more dangerous than either. You feel him pulse inside the condom, feel the tremors roll through him as he buries himself as deep as he can and shakes apart under you.
For several seconds, neither of you moves.
His forehead rests against your collarbone. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair. The room smelled like rain, sex, sweat, and the bitter aftermath of a choice made again.
Then his phone lights up once more.
A message this time.
The glow spills across the sheets.
Jungkook sees it over your shoulder.
His body still inside yours when his expression breaks.
You donât turn to read it.
You donât need to.
When you finally slip off of him, neither of you says anything.
It doesn't take jungkook long before he gets up to get dressed in his briefs and pants, then deals with the condom in your bathroom. You listen to the faucet run. You listen to him wash his hands like water can do anything for either of you. Your body still hums with aftershocks, damp and oversensitive, but the ache settling in your chest is sharper than anything between your legs.
When he comes back, he doesnât get back into bed.
He stands near the doorway, naked from the waist up, trousers low on his hips, looking around the room as if heâs only just realized where he is.
You pull the sheet over yourself.
âShe might call again,â you say.
His eyes drop to the nightstand.
âI know.â
âYou should answer next time.â
He looks at you then. âStop.â
The plea in his voice irritates you. âYou don't get to sound wounded.â
âIâm not trying to.â
âYou are. You always do. You look at me like Iâm hurting you by pointing at the knife in your hand.â
His face goes pale in the low light.
For once, he has nothing to say.
Good.
Let there be a silence he canât kiss his way through.
Jungkook turns away first. He finds his shirt on the floor and pulls it on, the fabric sticking slightly to his damp skin. You watch him dress because not watching feels too much like mercy. He buckles his belt. Checks his phone. The blue glow hollows out his face.
There it is.
That shift.
The man who had just fallen apart inside you disappears behind the man who knows what to type.
His thumbs move quickly.
âWhat are you saying?â you ask.
He keeps looking at the screen, the blue light catching the tired slope of his mouth. â'Missed her call because I went out for air.â
You stare at him.
The lie sounds so ordinary that it takes a second for the ugliness to catch up.
âDo you ever get tired?â You tilt your head.
Jungkookâs thumbs pause over the keyboard, eyebrow raised. âOf what?â
âSplitting yourself in half.â
His face doesnât change much, but something in his eyes does. A small shift. A shutter pulled down too late.
He locks the phone and lets it hang at his side.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
The room still smells like him. Rain, sweat, the faint trace of his cologne clinging stubbornly to the sheets. Your skin cooling now, and the cold reaches you in places his hands had been warm minutes ago. You pull the sheet higher over your chest, more out of reflex than modesty.
Jungkook watches the movement.
The silence stretches long enough to make the air feel crowded.
Then he exhales and looks toward the hallway. âI should go before she calls again.â
Of course.
There it is, the inevitable shape of the night. The part where he turns from body back into husband. The part where you sit in your own bed and watch him collect himself piece by piece like he didnât just leave parts of himself inside the room.
You donât answer.
Jungkook checks his phone again. His jaw tenses, not enough for anyone else to notice, but you notice everything now. You have become fluent in the smallest failures of him.
âGo, then,â you say.
It comes out flatter than you expect.
He looks over.
You donât meet his eyes. You trace a wrinkle in the sheet with your thumb, smoothing it down, then watching it rise again. Useless. Like everything else.
He says your name softly.
You hate that he can still make it sound careful.
âIâm not doing the doorway thing tonight,â you say.
âThe doorway thing?â
âYou standing there looking guilty until I say something that makes you feel less awful.â
His mouth parts slightly, then closes. He looks tired in a way sleep will not fix.
âThatâs fair,â he says after a moment.
You laugh under your breath, almost soundless. âGreat. Glad we landed on fair.â
He flinches at that, but doesnât argue.
He leaves the bedroom to find the rest of his things. You hear him in the hallway, hear the wet drag of his coat being lifted from where it had fallen near the entrance, hear him step around the small puddle he left on your floor. The apartment settles around his movements with humiliating familiarity. He knows where his shoes are. He knows which hook snags his sleeve. He knows that the floorboard near the console creaks if he puts his weight on it.
He knows too much about a place he has no right to know.
On the narrow table by the door, his wedding ring sits beside your keys.
He had taken it off earlier with that grim little look on his face, as if the act cost him something noble. Youâd watched him place it there. Youâd watched the band catch the hallway light.
Now you wait for the sound of him picking it up.
It doesnât come.
Instead, he comes back into the bedroom doorway with his coat on and his phone in his hand, his hair half-dry, his lips still faintly swollen from your mouth. His left hand hangs loosely at his side.
Bare.
The strip of paler skin around his finger is visible even in the dim room.
You notice immediately.
He doesnât.
For some reason, that makes your throat tighten.
Itâs ridiculous. Itâs just a ring. A circle of metal. A promise he has already dragged through enough mud to bury it. Still, the sight of his empty hand hits you harder than expected. Without the ring, he looks less anchored to the life he is about to return to. More like the man who kissed you in your hallway. More like the man who had buried his face against your neck after coming and held on too tight.
You wish you hadnât seen it.
Jungkook steps into the room, but not far. âIâll text when I get back.â
You nod once.
He waits.
You can feel him trying to read you, trying to decide whether your quiet is anger, exhaustion, or the kind of hurt he should be afraid of. He has always been better with your anger. Anger gives him edges to hold. This quiet has no handle.
âHey,â he says, softer now.
You keep your gaze on the sheet. âWhat?â
âWhat's wrong?"
That almost makes you smile, but it misses. âNothing, jungkook."
âStill lying?â
You hate that he knew.
A few seconds pass before the mattress dips beside you. You look up despite yourself. Jungkook came back to the bed, one knee pressing into the sheets, his coat still on like he meant to leave and lost the thread halfway through.
His eyes move over your face, searching, and the concern there lands in the worst possible place.
âDonât do that,â you say, but thereâs no bite in it.
âDo what?â
âLook at me like Iâm something you can fix before you go home.â
He swallows. His hand lifts, hesitates, then settles carefully against your cheek.
You should turn away.
You donât.
His palm is warm. His thumb brushes beneath your eye, not wiping anything away because you arenât crying. That somehow makes the gesture worse. Tenderness without evidence. Comfort offered to a wound neither of you will name.
âIâm not trying to fix anything,â he says. âI just donât like leaving you like this."
Your laugh comes out thin. âYou leave me like this all the time.â
âI leave you pissed off,â he says quietly. âThis is different.â
That shuts you up.
Heâs right, and you resent him for it.
When youâre angry, you can throw words at him until he bleeds enough to satisfy you. When youâre angry, he can take it, nod through it, let your cruelty balance the scale for a few minutes. Tonight, the anger has burned down to something quieter and heavier. You feel hollowed out, scraped clean by pleasure and shame and the sound of his wifeâs name lighting up your room.
Jungkook sits fully on the edge of the bed.
His coat rustles. Rainwater darkens the fabric at his shoulders. He looks absurdly out of place and painfully familiar.
âCome here,â he says.
You stare at him. âSeriously?â
âYes.â
âYouâre literally about to go.â
âI havenât left yet.â
âThatâs not romantic, jungkook.â
â'Wasn't aiming for romantic.â
âThen what?â
He looks at you for a long second, and when he answers, his voice is low enough that it feels pulled from somewhere private. âI wanted to hold you for a minute without pretending itâs nothing.â
The sentence lands with no decoration, which makes it harder to dismiss.
You look away first.
âThatâs selfish.â
âProbably.â
âAt least youâre branching out from excuses.â
His mouth curves faintly, but the expression doesnât last. âYeah. Iâm trying new ways to be terrible.â
It should not make warmth flicker in your chest.
You let out a breath, annoyed with him, annoyed with yourself, and then you shift closer before you can think better of it.
Jungkookâs arms come around you immediately.
Not rushed. Not hungry. Just firm.
He pulls you against his chest, coat and all, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other settles between your shoulder blades. For a second, you stay stiff in his arms, sheet gathered awkwardly between your bodies, your cheek pressed to the damp collar of his coat. He smells like outside air and skin and the rain he brought in with him.
Then your body betrays you in a new way.
You relax.
It happens slowly, then all at once. Your forehead drops against his shoulder. Your fingers curl loosely into the front of his shirt beneath the open coat. He exhales above you, and you feel it move through his ribs.
Neither of you speaks.
This affection is worse than the sex in some ways. Sex can be made ugly enough to survive. Sex can be blamed on impulse, loneliness, the bodyâs talent for ruining common sense. This is harder to excuse. His hand smoothing over your hair. His mouth pressing once to your temple. The way he holds you like he has done it in dreams and is trying to memorize the real weight.
âYou should go,â you murmur, though you make no effort to move.
âI will.â
âSoon.â
âYeah.â
âYouâre still holding me.â
âI noticed.â
You close your eyes. âAsshole.â
His chest moves with a quiet laugh. âA little.â
âA lot.â
"I deserved that."
His fingers slide slowly through your hair, separating strands with a gentleness that makes something under your ribs ache. He kisses your temple again, then the side of your head, his lips lingering longer the second time.
âYou always this quiet after?â he asks.
You think about lying.
âNo.â
His hand stills for half a second.
Then he resumes the slow stroke over your hair. âIs it because of the call?â
âItâs because of all of it.â
He nods against you, a small movement.
You feel his throat shift as he swallows. âI hate that Iâm the reason you feel like that.â
You pull back just enough to see him. âThen stop being the reason.â
He doesnât answer.
There is the truth, sitting between you without needing to be dressed up. He can feel bad. He can hold you. He can kiss your forehead in your dark bedroom with his coat still wet from the rain. None of that means he will make the choice that would cost him the life waiting elsewhere.
Your gaze drops to his hand on the sheet.
Bare.
The sight punches through the moment again.
He follows your eyes, but before he can look properly, his phone vibrates in his coat pocket.
Both of you freeze.
The buzz is short and sharp against his chest, trapped between you. Jungkookâs arms loosen around you, and the spell breaks so quickly it is almost embarrassing.
He takes the phone out and glances at it.
His face changes.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
You already know.
âWhat's she saying?â you ask.
He looks torn for a second, then sighs. âSheâs asking where I am.â
You move out of his arms.
This time he lets you.
The room cools instantly.
Jungkook types with one hand, slower now, as if every letter weighs something. You sit beside him wrapped in the sheet and watch the pale indentation on his ring finger while he lies to his wife.
The absurdity almost makes you laugh.
When he finishes, he pockets the phone and stands.
âI have to go.â
You nod.
Ultimately, there was nothing else to do.
He leans down as if to kiss your mouth, then stops himself.
You notice that too.
Something bitter sparks in you. âYou can fuck me, but goodbye is where you find religion?â
His eyes sharpen with hurt, then soften into something ashamed. âThatâs not what this is.â
âThen what is it?â
He looks at your mouth.
For one second, he seems like he might give in. Instead, he bends and presses a kiss to your forehead. It is warm, brief, and devastatingly careful.
âI donât kiss you goodbye because if I do, I wonât leave when Iâm supposed to,â he says against your skin.
Your breath catches despite every effort to stop it.
He straightens before you can respond.
Coward.
Maybe both of you.
You follow him to the front door, still wrapped in the sheet. The apartment is dim, the hallway light casting everything in weak gold. His wet footprints have dulled on the floor. Your ergonomic mat is bent at one corner from where he kicked it earlier.
The ring sits on the narrow table beside your keys.
You see it.
He doesnât.
Jungkook shoves one foot into his shoe, then the other, distracted by another buzz from his phone. He checks the screen, tension pulling through his shoulders.
âëĽ,â he mutters. Shit.
You lean against the wall. âTrouble?â
âSheâs asking if I took the car.â
âDid you?â
He looks up at you. âObviously.â
âHm, you're not very good at this.â
âIâm better when youâre not staring at me.â
âThat was almost sweet.â
âIt really wasnât meant to be.â
Despite yourself, your mouth twitches.
He sees it, and for a second the expression on his face changes so quickly it hurts. Relief. Affection. Want. All of it there and gone before he can protect either of you from it.
He steps closer.
You think he might touch you again. He doesnât, at first. He only looks at you, really looks, as if the quiet from earlier still bothers him.
Then he reaches out and tucks the sheet more securely around your shoulder where it had slipped.
The gesture is small.
Too domestic.
Your heart reacts like an idiot.
âYouâre cold,â he says.
âIâll live.â
âI know you will.â His thumb brushes the edge of the sheet near your collarbone. âDoesnât mean I like it.â
You stare at him, thrown by the plainness of it.
He seems thrown too.
For a second, there is no affair in the room. No wife. No emergency contact name. No wet floor, no missed call, no ring in plain sight. Just Jungkook looking at you like leaving is taking effort.
Then his phone buzzes again.
Reality returns with terrible timing.
He closes his eyes for half a second. âGotta go.â
âFourth time, goodbye jungkook.â
He chuckles under his breath before he opens the door, cold hallway air slipping in around him.
Before he steps out, he turns back. âThursday?â
The question is quieter than usual.
You could still say no. You could point to the table and say take your ring, take your guilt, take whatever you think this is, and donât come back. The words are all there, lined up and ready.
Instead, your gaze flicks to his bare hand.
He notices the movement this time, but he misunderstands it. His fingers flex, and he looks down briefly, distracted, not long enough to register whatâs missing. Then his attention returns to you.
You say, âDonât come if youâre only going to feel bad about it afterwards.â
His mouth tightens. âThat rules out most nights.â
âThen maybe sit with that.â
A quiet, pained laugh leaves him. âYouâre mean when youâre sad.â
âImagine how charming Iâll be when Iâm happy.â
His eyes soften.
He reaches out, touches your cheek once, and this time you let the tenderness happen without pretending it doesnât matter. His thumb moves along your skin, slow and careful.
âIâll see you thursday,â he says, but it sounds less like confidence and more like a confession of weakness.
You donât answer.
He leaves.
The door closes with a soft click.
You stand there for several seconds, listening to his footsteps move down the hall. The elevator dings. The doors open. Close. The building swallows him the way it always does.
Only then do you turn toward the table.
His wedding ring gleams beside your keys.
Forgotten.
For a while, you just simply stare at it.
It looks wrong in your apartment. Too bright. Too official. A little circle of proof sitting among your ordinary things. Keys, lip balm, a receipt from the convenience store, the tiny ceramic dish where you keep loose coins. It should be on his hand, catching light when he grips the steering wheel on the way back to her. It should be in his house, beside her toothbrush, beneath the roof where his lies have somewhere to land.
Instead, it's here.
With you.
Your stomach twists.
You pick it up.
The band is heavier than you expect, warm from the room or from memory. You turn it between your fingers, studying the smooth gold, the faint scratches along the outside. Marriage leaves marks even on metal.
Your phone lights up in the bedroom.
For a second, you donât move.
Then you carry the ring with you, crossing the cold floor back into the wreck of your room. The screen glows against the twisted sheets.
Jungcuck
just got to the car
Another message comes through before the screen dims.
Jungcuck
hope you don't hate me
You stare at it, the ring pressed into your palm. Then another.
Jungcuck
don't like leaving you like this
Your throat tightens.
The affection at the end should make it easier. It doesnât. If anything, it makes the whole thing more unbearable. Cruelty has clean edges. Tenderness seeps.
You sit on the edge of the bed.
The ring rests in your open palm, innocent and damning.
You type slowly.
You
you forgot something
The reply doesnât come right away.
You imagine him in the driverâs seat, phone in one hand, rain streaking the windshield, his other hand maybe reaching automatically for the gear shift. Maybe he glances down then. Maybe his thumb brushes the bare place on his finger.
When his message appears, it is only one word.
Jungcuck
fuck
Jungcuck
my ring?
You look at the gold band in your hand.
You
yeah
A pause.
Long enough for him to swear out loud, maybe. Long enough for him to understand that the thing he uses to return to his life is sitting in your bedroom after he held you too sweetly and left too fast.
Jungcuck
Iâll come back
You breathe out a laugh with no humor in it.
You
sheâs awake jungkook
Jungcuck
Iâll figure it out
You stare at that.
That was jungkook in four words. Not a plan. Not a promise. Just impulse dressed as certainty.
Your thumb hovers over the screen.
You could tell him no. You could tell him to explain the missing ring. You could keep it until Thursday. You could drop it into the little ceramic dish by the door and let it sit there among coins and spare keys like any other misplaced thing.
Instead, you set the ring on your nightstand.
Exactly where his phone had lit up earlier. It sits there beneath the lamp, bright and silent.
You type back.
You
not tonight
The typing bubbles appear almost immediately.
Disappear.
Appear again.
Jungcuck
please don't do this rn
Your chest aches at the word âpleaseâ.
You
Iâm not doing anything. You left it.
Jungcuck
I was distracted
You
clearly
A longer pause follows.
Jungcuck
were you going to tell me?
You look toward the hallway, toward the table where it had been sitting in plain view while he touched your cheek and asked about Thursday. You think of his bare hand. His tired eyes. The way he noticed your quiet but not the missing weight on his finger.
You answer honestly.
You
I have to remind a married man he's married?
The message sends.
Rain taps gently at the window. The apartment feels too still now, as if it is waiting to see what kind of person you become with his marriage on your nightstand.
Jungkook doesnât respond for almost a full minute.
Then your phone lights again.
Jungcuck
touchĂŠ
You hate that reply.
You hate it because it gives you nowhere to put the anger. No argument to throw yourself against. No denial to tear apart.
Another message follows.
Jungcuck
Iâll get it thursday if youâll keep it safe for me
The phrase makes something bitter rise in your throat.
"Keep it safe."
As if safety is a thing either of you knows how to offer.
You look at the ring.
Then at the message.
You
fine
His reply comes fast.
Jungcuck
thank you
You donât answer but he does a few seconds later.
Jungcuck
and for what itâs worth, I meant what I said before I left
You donât ask which part.
You already knew.
That he didnât like leaving you quiet. That he wanted to hold you without pretending it was nothing. That if he kissed you goodbye, he might not leave.
All of it. None of it enough.
You put the phone face down.
The room is quiet except for the rain and the slow settling of your own breath. Your sheets are a mess. Your skin still carries him. Your hallway floor is marked by the water he tracked in and the absence he left behind.
On the nightstand, his wedding ring catches the lamplight.
It looks almost pretty there.
And that felt like the worst part.
â26 Š all rights reserved @imnoomin â do not copy, translate, or repost my works without permission.
pairing: managing partner/lawyer!jungkook x spoiled brat!reader ft. namjoon
genre: strangers/lowkey one sided enemies to ?? idk bec you irk him, angst, smut, like slight fluff, infidelity au (jungkook has a girlfriend aand it's not you yet?)
wc: 7.8k
warnings: this is a series! so please visit the killlah (jjk) [series masterlist] for a tiny summary and some extra info !! sooo, in this chapter, you can expect: multiple (continuous) mentions and descriptions of throwing up, so if you're queasy,,, i'm sorry, it's like i couldn't stop once i started, much like our girl, so just power through this once for the plot. oc is a bit of a mean girl as usual, and dramatic.... entitled, a little jungkook-crazy obvi. its gonna get angsty as usualll,,,
!!extra disclaimer!! this is partially edited. the ending MIGHT seem a bit womp womp writing wise but trustttt i'll fix it soon it's edited!
The following morning, you feel awful. And you blame it all on Namjoon.Â
Had he not brought you to this fuckass island, you wouldn't have sat on a beach for a picnic. Had you not sat for a picnic on the beach, you wouldn't have been coerced into trying scallops. Had you not been forced into tasting scallops, you wouldn't have known how much you loved them, and you wouldn't have discovered how horribly allergic you were to (certain) shellfish (yet another thing you canât have, no matter how much you crave it.)Â
During the dinner by the ocean, you began feeling lightheaded. You thought it was because of all the alcohol you'd consumed (after that mixology session.) Then you threw up bitter stomach acid in the sand, which Yoongi did flag as a tad concerning but nothing a good nightâs sleep couldnât fix.
However, while walking back to the resort, you suddenly collapsed.Â
You were told Jungkook was the one who first sprung into action and carried you all the way into the doctor's chambers.Â
You make a mental note to ask Namjoon for more details.
Since the resort was pretty secluded on a little island, they had a little clinic and a full-time medical staff for emergencies like yours. For more serious cases, they had the facilities to have patients airlifted to a hospital. Luckily, you werenât in that much trouble.
Kinda sucks that you were unconscious when you were (physically) closest to Jungkook though. You can't believe you missed this good of an opportunity to feel him up.Â
You know he's got abs, you saw during dinner when Hyewon flashed everyone with them.Â
Sigh.
Soon, you think.
Namjoon spent the night by your side in a private hospital room, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.Â
He felt guilty. Even though he couldn't have possibly prevented this, he felt responsible for you.Â
He also had to convince your brother to not fly to the island overnight.
Although you'd been told your allergic reaction was severe, it could've been a lot worse.Â
You don't seem to have realised how dangerous this could've potentially been because you're currently asking the resident doctor what a safe amount (of scallops) would be to consume.Â
The doctor only came up with vegan alternatives. Now, you've lost interest in her professional opinions.Â
After the doctor explains your antihistamine schedule to Joon, she leaves to attend to some kidâs jellyfish sting.Â
And then you playfully glower at your friend.Â
âOh, you owe me biiiig for this.â You sing-song at Namjoon.Â
He doesn't really, you're just bored.Â
Namjoon grunts, âYeah, yeah, I'll nurse you back to health. Need help washing up?âÂ
You coyly flutter your eyes at him. You consider it because you really do need a good wash.Â
The ocean air has frizzed up your once silky hair. And your mouth felt disgusting. Youâve been fed a lot of water and other liquids so you donât get dehydrated but the meds have left a strange aftertaste on your tongue.
A nurse comes in to take your IV out.Â
Namjoon winces as he watches the needle retract from your skin. What a baby.
âWhat?â You scoff at him, âNever done drip therapy before?âÂ
He shakes his head. âIâd rather digest all the nutrients I need.â Then thoughtfully, he adds, âBut I do enjoy acupuncture.âÂ
âOh, I never got the concept of that.â Your mom was big on this stuff though. Chinese medicine, ayurveda, herbs and stuff. Maybe thatâs why you donât care for it.Â
âIâll take you to my guy, you might like it.â Namjoon suggests.Â
You think for a second as the nurse finishes cleaning you up. Then you settle, âMm, nah, Iâm not too keen on micro needles in me. If I donât see the results right away, itâs not going to work for me.â You extend your foot towards him, indirectly asking for a massage.Â
As the nurse leaves, you catch her checking Namjoon out. But your friend was too focused on you.Â
Sucker.Â
âWhereâs Yoongi⌠and stuff?â You wonder out loud.Â
Subtle, you think.
Namjoon eyes you suspiciously. âI think theyâre at brunch.â - âWhy arenât you with them?âÂ
âBecause Iâm here with you. Should I call Yoongi and stuff here instead?â He pulls on your toes.Â
âOw. No.âÂ
You thought theyâd have flown out already. Itâs like⌠half past eleven.Â
Hopefully, youâre about to be discharged soon.Â
The doctor wanted to monitor you for at least another hour. Then finally, you can head back to the mainland.Â
Ugh.Â
You really didnât want to think about flying back though. If the meds donât make you puke your guts out, flying in that crazy tin machine would definitely do the trick.Â
You turn over for a cat nap, patting the empty space behind for Joon to get in with you.
An hour later, when youâre finally out of the hospital room and back in your suite, you make Namjoon recount the events of last night. You know, for your general physician back home and your records and such.Â
âYou know this doesnât mean shit, right? Heâs just better at navigating emergencies. This couldâve been any one of us and heâd react the same way.âÂ
âLalalalala.â You cover your ears with your fingers, refusing to accept it.
âYou canât be seriousâŚâ You hear Namjoon mutter something to himself.Â
Namjoon sighs to himself. âFine. This is the last time though.â
Yay!Â
âOk, once again, my knees buckled and I fell on my side and then?â You stare at Joon with big eyes, waiting for him to repeat his account of whatever went down for the- checks notes- fifth time.
âThen Jungkook ran over to you and wasted no time in rushing you to the doctorâs room.â Namjoon purposely skips over what you want to hear.
âNo, no---â You whine and nudge him, âTell me the part about the- you know!âÂ
Namjoon throws his head back in frustration. âOne last time and Iâm out. I need to pack-â He takes a look around your messy room, âAs do you.âÂ
You wave a hand dismissively.Â
Robotically, he recites, âHe crouched down, elevated your head on his knee, moved your hair out of your face, then cradled you supporting your head and neck and lifted you in his arms. And he almost ran to the lobby. He then reprimanded the receptionist later because she had panicked and failed to react as fast as one shouldâve. Hopefully he hasnât gone all Karen on her ass and gotten the managers involved.â Â
You bite your finger. Namjoon was a good narrator. He should totally do audiobooks.Â
Then frown at your misfortune.
Pfft. But Hyewonâs fucking lucky. Screw her. You still donât understand how she managed to bag Jeon Jungkook.Â
Youâre sure Hyewon mightâve had a lot of suitors. But what made Jeon Jungkook pick her?Â
You donât know either of them all that well but youâre leaning to believe that Hyewon must have some God pussy for Jungkook to date her for as long as he has.Â
Or maybe he has a micro-penisâŚÂ
Even if it is so, you want to find out through primary research. With your own two eyes.
They just donât look right together.Â
This is a new feeling for you. Mild jealousy. No, thatâs not right.Â
Specifically, mild jealousy over a man.Â
Yes.
Well, you've never tried to make a move on someone elseâs partner before. Nor have you been even remotely this fixated on any man before.Â
This whole issue was uncharted territory for you.
You never had any opinions on women who did go for peopleâs boyfriends either. Itâs on those men to hold their own. Like how in Christian mythology, in the garden of Eden, Eve was tempted by the serpent and then punished for eating the forbidden fruit.
Jungkook = Eve.Â
You = The forbidden fruit, hopefully. The serpent.
And Hyewon⌠You donât particularly consider her anything. She means nothing to you. If anything, sheâs like an annoying gnat. You donât like or dislike her.Â
Or so you say.Â
Her presence bothers you. Thereâs nothing much to it.Â
â_____, weâre cutting too close to-â - âOk, you can go.â You push Namjoon out the door.Â
Youâre officially relieving him from _____ duty. He had done more than enough for you.Â
You hear faint warnings from behind the door about a time constraint till you have to check out.Â
You sigh. Right.Â
Youâve only just showered and you need to track down all your belongings so you could finally get the hell out of here.Â
Also! To your surprise (and delight,) Namjoon informed you that they managed to book a yacht. And instead of a 20-30 minute journey, itâd be a 2-3 hour thing. But at least you wouldn't be flying.Â
Honestly, youâd even pick a jetski over a helicopter.Â
He kept alluding that Jeon Jungkook did it for you. âSomeone just had to go that extra mile. Someone just had to please you.â You donât know if he was serious or just teasing you. Either way, you apparently owed Jungkook a âthank youâ--- for kinda saving your life and booking a yacht instead of a chopper even though itâd take way longer.Â
You donât have the energy to dress up like you usually would, sticking to some thick compression socks, slippers, a tank top and some sweatpants instead. These are your sick clothes. Super cute and very comfortable.
You keep a change of clothes in your handbag just in case you somehow soil the getup.
Yoongi arrives at your door to pick you up after a little over an hour.
Youâre still in the process of scanning every corner of your room, making sure you have all your belongings.Â
Half the time, you zone out. You definitely felt a lot better than the night before though.Â
âHey. Ready to go yet?â His eyes donât leave his phone.Â
Yoongi had been pretty occupied with work all morning.Â
You feel a tiny bit guilty for delaying everyoneâs weekend. But itâs not your fault you got sick.
Plus, itâs not like they had to stay. You couldâve arranged your own way back home.
You do one final sweep of the suite before stepping out.Â
Yoongi power walks to the lobby while you struggle to keep up, dragging your suitcases behind you.Â
>:(
Couldnât you have waited for a bellboy to help? Why did he even come to get you again?
ĘđšÉ
At the lobby, you reunite with your friend. Jungkook and Hyewon were there too.Â
Hyewon smiled at you, leaning in for a hug. âHi! Are you feeling better?âÂ
âI am, yeah. Thanks.â Your hands were still gripping the handles of your luggage but you reciprocate her display of affection and lean into her a little, not wanting to seem rude.
âGood! You looked like death last night. We were so worried.âÂ
Oh!Â
Well. Thatâs always nice to hear.
Yoongi snickered but sported a poker face when you glared at him.
âIâm fine. It was just an allergic reaction...â You mumble, sneaking a peek at Jungkook, who was already watching you. He was back in his work attire. Heâs so lucky to look this hot on a random Monday.
You almost felt shy.
Was your hair out of place? Did you still âlook like death?âÂ
More importantly, should you greet him? Thank him? In front of everyone?Â
Your cheeks feel warm.
Whyâs it kinda hot in here? You blink rapidly, trying to disperse all the goosebumps and daydreams.Â
Hyewon offers to grab one of your bags. You donât object as she helps you to the golf cart with your bigger suitcase.Â
Jungkook had both his and hers soâŚÂ
You glance at him once again.Â
This time, he raises a brow at you. You respond with a slow cat-like blink.Â
You should talk to him sooner rather than later. You know, to thank him. Maybe send a gift basket later.
You inquire about Namjoonâs whereabouts and learn he was already on the yacht and trying to catch up on some sleep (all thanks to you) before work.Â
Yikes.Â
Yet another person whom you owe a gift basket. Â
While you waited for Jungkook to finish whatever paperwork for the rental, the chef from last night came out to personally check on you after hearing about the incident. It wasnât anyoneâs fault but you still got a whole tray of tiramisu as an apology.Â
You felt awkward accepting it but you assumed it would've been rude not to.
You smile and promise to visit again. And it wasn't a fib. You think you'd have fun here with Somin.
ĘđšÉ
Even though the trip ended on a weird note, you would very much miss the beach. Youâre sad you didnât go into the water.Â
Surprisingly, you hadnât been on too many island trips. Youâre strictly a city girl who prefers bar/club hopping and shopping over⌠goat puppy yoga classes or whatever Hyewon tried to do with you.Â
It wouldnât hurt to connect with nature once in a while though. You could probably drag Logan someplace. Lately, you've been thinking about fold mountains. Youâd like to drive high up to the peak and picture everything underwater. It scares the shit out of you but you can already imagine the crisp, mountain air filling your lungs. The sedimentary rock formations call out to you.
Today, you notice things you missed when you arrived as youâre driven to the dock.Â
To be fair, it was nighttime then. But still!
You see a little flea market set up with a bunch of tourists.
Aw, you frown. You could've gone too.
âWe went there today!â Hyewon spoke excitedly from across, âJungkook bought me this.â She flashes you her wrist which was adorned with the most gorgeous seashells charm bracelet.Â
Your eyes lit up at the sight, âThat is so pretty.â You whisper earnestly.Â
âItâs one of a kind too.â Hyewon squeezes her boyfriendâs thigh as a little âthank you.â Jungkookâs bashful when he covers her hand with his in response.Â
Eugh. You cross your legs hastily. Jungkook really had good taste. In most things.
On any other day, youâd have stopped the cart and shopped around the market for an hour or so. You caught glimpses of so many things youâd potentially be into; like seashell adorned jute bags, wedge sandals, sun hats, candles, different kinds of jewelry, and all of it looked handmade.
Youâre a sucker for art.Â
But you already felt like you were at fault for delaying the groupâs departure from this island with your sickness.Â
So⌠No flea market for ya.
You pull your sunglasses over your eyes and lean your head back to enjoy the cool wind caressing you all over.
ĘđšÉ
Honestly, you wouldnât mind being driven around in a golf cart everywhere permanently.
What is the reason for these not being available to go on the highway? Safety issues?Â
Perhaps you could settle on a sexy little cabriolet. Why haven't you bought one already?
Well, you hated getting stuff in your eyes.
Also one time, you lost a lash riding in your friend's convertible. But you suppose you could just get better glue. And sunglasses!
The cart comes to a halt a few feet away from the dock. You hear seagulls screeching all over the place. Whew. They hadn't sounded this crazy near the resort.Â
You thank the driver and make your way down to the boat.
It was a pretty large yacht called Miss Toffee. You don't know why you were imagining a speedboat instead.
You wait for your bags to be loaded onto the vessel before being helped on.
Youâre the last passenger to get on.
Jungkook extends his hand to you despite the captain of the ship offering you the same (help.) You hand off your handbag to Jungkook and accept the other manâs hand to pivot yourself aboard. âThanks!âÂ
You give your tiramisu away to the kitchen staff to serve everyone aboard. Yes, they had a kitchen staff. And two bedrooms, one of which was probably occupied by Joon. Maybe you can hide out there with him for two hours. It seemed doable.
Pre-departure, the captain, who introduced himself as Jamal, conducted a mini safety briefing, informing you about the yachtâs layout and what areas you could and couldnât be in, emergency floaties and so on.Â
Jungkook still held on to your bag.
Six minutes into the briefing, you lose focus. You wanted to pay attention but your body was distracted. If youâd have heard Jamal, youâd have informed him of this funny feeling youâre getting in your tummy.Â
Luckily for you, Jeon Jungkook was keeping track of everything.
.
.
âIâm so tired of being sick!â You cry.  Â
Thereâs no way Jeon Jungkook would fuck you after this. It just isnât in the books for you. Or him. You are not in his books.Â
And if at all you were (in his books) this morning, you sure as hell arenât anymore.Â
Because youâve found yourself in yet another unfortunate situation.Â
From the way youâve been throwing up (loudly, might I add) on the side of the yacht from the past twenty minutes, you might as well fling yourself off of it.Â
This was beyond humiliating.Â
God, why would he ever want to fuck you now that he associates you with VOMIT.Â
Urghgrrhh. Your ego is taking a big hit. (citrustan giggles)
Yeah, yeah, itâs natural and you canât help it and itâs not your fault but it still grosses you out.
You wouldnât wish this on your worst enemy.
Someone tied your hair back and secured it in a bun with a claw clip as you emptied your stomach for the third time since you got on.
Of course, youâre now battling seasickness.Â
Something none of you had considered.Â
Why would you? Youâd never been seasick before. But the movement of the vessel is making your head spin and tummy hurt.
Actually, you arenât even sure what triggered your digestive system first: the very faint, fishy smell of freshly prepared seafood that included raw sea urchins, oysters and caviar (which arenât easy on the eyes either,) or the motion of the boat. Or maybe it was a combination of both.Â
Jungkook had been observing you closely from the moment you boarded the boat. Intentional or not, he doesnât know. But he noticed the shift in your microexpressions the moment you laid your eyes on the little buffet Jamal had personally arranged for. Had he known the details of it, heâd have requested a change. Because only someone like Jeon Jungkook would be prepared enough for literally any circumstance.
Itâs as if the man had a seventh sense when it came to you. He offered you his sipper water bottle before anything even started. You even made a quip about a grown man having a sipper bottle: âWhat are you? 12? What man in his 30s needs a sippy cup?âÂ
(Uh, hypocritical much? All 15 of your abandoned Stanleys are collectively shaking their heads at you.)
Either way, the jokeâs on you because that sippy cup is saving your life a little right now.Â
You dragged yourself back to the chairs once youâd calmed down a bit.Â
Swallowing little sips of water was soothing your throat. And consuming liquids was easier with Jungkookâs adult sippy bottle. Paper straws just donât do it for you. Or anyone else, you assume.
Namjoon was still asleep in one of the rooms since he was up most of the night and Yoongi was AWOL because he had to make a few work calls. Both men were lucky enough to not have witnessed any of the mess.Â
This left you with Hyewon and Jungkook constantly âwatching over youâ as you laid on one of the pool chairs on the deck, fanning yourself with a folded newspaper with one hand and sipping water from Jungkookâs adult sippy cup in the other, sweaty and vomit-y.Â
Couldnât Hyewon at least offer to fan you? You may or may not decline but youâd think sheâd have the thoughtfulness to at least ask.Â
What was she doing here anyway?Â
And as if Hyewonâs presence wasnât reason enough for your annoyance, one of the crewmembers had the audacity to present you with a fucking bucket to throw up in. As if!Â
Why would you want to have a bucket of vomit sitting around marinating in the sun?
Plus you only threw up on the side of the boat because you couldnât hold it in till you reached your room. And now, Mr. Jeon-know-it-all wonât let you retreat into your room because he doesnât think itâs ventilated enough and thinks you might- no, will throw up in your sleep and choke to death.Â
At this point, youâd pick that option over whatever the hell this was.Â
You couldnât even place a hat on your face like you usually would when you lie on a lounge chair to sunbathe any other time, because for some reason, itâs making you feel even more nauseated.Â
So now youâre stuck and uneasy with all the close attention youâre getting from the couple.
You notice movement in your peripheral and sneak a peek, believing one of the two might be walking away for a bit. But noooo. PDA.Â
Hyewon is on her boyfriendâs lap. Really? Now?Â
PDA next to a person on their literal deathbed.Â
Ick.
Ugh.Â
Here you go again. You swear it wasnât on purpose. You canât help it.Â
You hastily swing your legs over the chair and stumble off to the side of the boat and begin dry heaving, making the worst sounds to ever have come from a human. Again.Â
Not even a hangover had rendered you this ill before.Â
Sucks that the coupleâs makeout sesh is interrupted though. ;( :( :)
You hear heavy, urgent footsteps in pursuit but pay no heed.Â
You were busy getting wrung, sorry.Â
A hand rubs your back and another one⌠your head?Â
Why was your head being caressed right now? You smack the one by your head away with a little grumble: âDonât touch me there.âÂ
âOw!âÂ
Iâll give you a second to guess whose hand you just slapped away. Just go with your gut.Â
.
.Â
.
You got it.
Now, you donât know whether it was smart or stupid of Hyewon to pull a move this ridiculous because honestly, you can accept both excuses.Â
If she displays a kind of weaponised incompetence that she did by rubbing your head while your entire body was being turned inside out and hung to dry, youâre naturally bound to show your annoyance (as you did by smacking her bony hand away,) which would then give her a reason- or excuse to get away from you without feeling guilty or judged by the overseers. OR sheâs just that stupid.Â
And you know for a fact that the woman wasnât an idiot. She might be a little oblivious or even a tad delusional, but sheâs def not a total idiot. You think.
The hand, which you now confirm as Jungkookâs, travels down your spine to massage it. Youâd been bent over the railing quite a few times, your body was sore. (And not in the way youâd have liked. :/ )
Youâve been such a cunt to Jungkook, you donât know how you could possibly thank him for all this. Â
A small, unreasonable and stubborn part of you still blamed him for booking a yacht when you couldâve just flown for 20 minutes instead.Â
But then again, throwing up in a helicopter with no way for anyone to escape without dying wouldâve been a lot worse. But also, you wouldnât be seasick in a chopper.
Jungkook paused his hand for a moment, feeling two, tiny parallelly placed, circular objects on your lower back.Â
Fuck. He scrunches his brows.Â
Innocently, he runs his fingers over the two little bumps a few more times to make sure he isnât mistaken. Luckily for him (but sadly for you,) you donât notice.
Did you have dermal piercings on your back?Â
Jeon Jungkookâs trying really hard not to picture you naked back at this moment. Trying really hard not to acknowledge the fact that those were his favourite kind of body accessory.Â
Of fucking course, youâd have those. Lower back dermals are so⌠you.
For fuckâs sake, you were literally sick. And what kind of man would he be if he lost his shit over two innocent little piercings? At the base of your back, no less. They feel like rhinestones too. Not unusual but he wouldn't expect anything less from the princessâ˘.Â
âŚÂ
Would it be too forward to ask about them?Â
A loud retching sound brings his attention back.Â
The staff were hosing the side of the ship down simultaneously.
The audio-visuals were making him a tad queasy too but he was committed to taking care of you until the captain (who also happened to be a doctor) could attend to you--- You know, out of respect for his hyungs who were currently preoccupied, of course. Nothing else.
Jungkook gently tucks the loose strands of your hair behind your ears as the salty breeze hits you, messing your hair up in the process.Â
âLet it out, let it all out.â He chants while patting your back.Â
When Jungkook notices youâve been fairly still and silent, he leads you back into the inner deck by your shoulders.Â
Youâre a zombie at this point. He could walk you off the deck, straight into the water and youâd follow.
Whining, you cry to nobody in particular, âPut a muzzle on me, I canât do this anymoreâŚâÂ
âThat can be arranged for later-â Jungkook entertains you, âYou can count on me.âÂ
You glare at him and he returns it. Though his gaze is more⌠intense. His lips curved into the faintest smirk. You could almost see the mischief swimming in his irises.Â
Normally, you wouldnât back down from a staring contest but this man was making you blush endlessly. You almost cower under his eye.
Pfft.
You yank yourself away from his grip as hard as you could in your condition and take a seat on one of the couches.Â
You clean yourself with wet wipes and clean, hot towels.
Jungkook folds his cuffs back. You eye his sleek grey trousers and his white shirt, tucked in and everything.Â
When was this man ever not in business casuals? It wasnât really casual but you canât remember the term- oh, formals.Â
âWhy are you always dressed like that?â You donât mean to sound as accusatory as you do.Â
âLike what?â You hear him scoff.Â
You tilt your head, âYouâre always suited up.â Hm. Thinks. âItâs hot but I wonder what you look like without âem.â Smiling up at him innocently, you lean back.Â
Hyewonâs head perks up at this.
Jungkookâs mouth slightly drops agape. But he says nothing. Doesnât get the opportunity to respond before his girlfriend returns.
Youâre fucking bold.Â
âHeâs hotter without them. I can vouch for it!âÂ
You discreetly roll your eyes but cover it up with a smile, âCute.âÂ
It doesnât go unnoticed by Jungkook, although he doesnât acknowledge it. Once again.Â
Simply smirking at Hyewon, he asks her if she wants a drink.
You tune them out and try to concentrate on not regurgitating anything else.Â
Jungkook makes his way to the bar to request a few drinks. Along with that, he asks the crew to give you space. (i.e. no more vomit buckets or food out in the area you're occupying.)
âDo you want to try to take a nap?â Hyewon asks carefully.Â
You learn forward and rest your head in your hands, âUgh, I wish. But Jungkookâs right, I donât want to risk suffocation.â He had valid concerns.
âWhy donât you try? It always helps me to sleep it off. Jungkookâs just being anal about it.âÂ
If you didnât know any better, youâd think she was asking you to go die in a corner.Â
Huh.Â
Well.Â
Two can play this game, you think.
Right at that moment, Mr. Jeon returns with two teacups and places it on the coffee table in front of you. âI got you ginger and chamomile teas. Hopefully, theyâll settle your stomach and your nerves. Can you drink that for me?âÂ
For him�
You bit the corner of your lip, contemplating all the other things youâd do for him.
â_____.â - Hmm,,,. - â_____, while itâs warm, please.âÂ
You lift your arm to reach one of the ceramic cups and catch Hyewonâs eye.Â
:)Â
Suddenly frowning, you weakly rub your wrist. âOwâŚâÂ
Oh, no. :( Your wrist is weak and sore. :( Oh, what will you ever do? :(Â
âYou okay there?â You hear Jungkook closing in.Â
âI donât know⌠I canât-â You pout, cutting yourself off, âIâll drink it in a bit, my armâs a littleâŚâ You trail off.
You sigh, peeking at Jungkook through your peripheral.Â
Jungkook settles beside you, teacup now in his hand.Â
"Your arm hurts?" He finishes.Â
You pout and nod miserably. âMhm.â
Jungkook parrots you, "The same arm you were using to lift that large handbag of yours just now?"Â
âŚ
Rude.
You frown, âUh, yeah, thatâs what I said, genius.âÂ
Jungkook sighed and glanced at his girlfriend. It didn't sound like a fond sigh. It was a kind of sigh you let out before enabling bad behaviour.Â
Hyewon watched the two of you cautiously.Â
I mean, she understood you were ill and her boyfriend was sort of a natural caretaker, but she was pissed as hell that they werenât making out on the top deck right now.Â
This was probably the first time ever that she earnestly showed her dislike towards you--- in front of you. (Albeit in her mind but even then, at least sheâs facing those feelings honestly and not gaslighting herself.)Â
Itâs probably irrational or perhaps even an exaggeration, but she feels youâre almost playing your sickness up just to be coddled by everyone.Â
No. That's ridiculous. She shakes it off.
Hyewon thinks she should pitch in and help her boyfriend but sheâs just unhappy with his choice of making himself this available to you in the first place.Â
Hyewon ignores the sting she feels in her chest as she watches her boyfriend cradle the back of your head and guide the teacup to your mouth while you hold on to his wrist. And she certainly ignores that hint of something unexplainable in his eyes as he watches you sip the liquid from the cup.
Jungkookâs fingers gently massage your nape, shooting goosebumps all through your body. Itâs so sensual. Yet he does it so casually.Â
If things were different, you think youâd have kissed him right there. Itâd have been a picture perfect moment. Your thought process rarely heads in this direction.Â
You like feeling good. You enjoy attention and validation from people you like. You even crave romance once in a while. And you think a kiss wouldâve made this random afternoon quite romantic. That is, if things were different.Â
Out of nowhere, Hyewon abruptly walks off. And Jungkookâs attention shifts back to her, eyes instantly glued to her figure as she exits your sights. Â
You drop the act and wordlessly grab the little teacup from his hand.
Your cold fingers send a little shiver down his spine. He does a decent job of ignoring it. Â
Gee, this thing was weightless. You think about the teacup.
He doesnât even acknowledge you before following Hyewon into the dining area.Â
Hey. :(
Well, there goes your chance at romance?Â
A weird sadistic part of you was pleased to have potentially caused a wedge in between the lovebirds.Â
Donât get it wrong, you totally want to hop on Jeon Jungkook, but you hadnât really given any thought to the aftermath of it if it were to happen.
You guess you just caught a glimpse? Scarily enough, it does not bother you as much as it should.Â
Leaning back on the couch, you choose to nurse yourself with the remainder of the teas Jungkook brought you.Â
Jungkook spots Hyewon seated at the medium sized dining table.Â
It was decorated with a beautiful red, white and purple floral centerpiece, thick, unlit white candles, and plates and utensils clearly prepared for five guests.Â
Sheâs looking down at her phone, not acknowledging Jungkook when he pulls up a seat next to her.
Then Hyewon glances over and smiles a little. âOh, hey. Whatcha doing here?âÂ
Jungkook stares at her. âYou tell me.âÂ
âWhat do you mean?â Hyewon continues to put on an act.
Jungkook sighs.
âWonâŚâ He probed, leaning closer, âWhatâs going on?âÂ
âHuh? Nothing.â Hyewon laughs. Nothing was funny. She was just buying herself time to delay this confrontation.
Hyewon almost got upset all over again. Did he really just throw that in her face?Â
âI did not âstorm off,â I was hungry.â She couldnât just stop there, nope. âWatching you feed _____ that tea made me think about food.âÂ
Ah.
RightâŚ
Jungkook looked down with a hint of embarrassment flooding him.Â
Thankfully, Hyewon kept talking so Jungkook didnât really get the opportunity to explain himself right then.Â
âI guess I was just irritated by how much time you were spending together? I know itâs irrational because itâs not like you were having fun or anything. She was sick and you were just,â Hyewon pauses to find the right words, â-being a good person. I donât know?â
Wow. Jeon Jungkook was the worst boyfriend in the world.Â
He almost felt defensive and called out but stopped himself from verbalizing it.Â
However, he also understood where Hyewon was coming from. Because he knew he was guilty of things she wasn't even accusing him of. Â
Why wouldnât she be pissed about him practically playing house with you, sick or not.
Still he reasons with her. âWe spent all weekend together, Won. Iâm just trying to hold the fort down till Jamal can assist _____." Jamal, the captain, was also a doctor. "Yoongi and Namjoon aren't available either. I couldn't just let her fend for herself, you know?â
Hyewon wanted to bring up the part where you smacked her arm and Jungkook didnât defend her but she decided it was too silly of a reason to be upset. Considering your physical state and all.
It's not like you tried to hurt her on purpose.
âHold on, let me text Jamal and find out if heâll be able to come out now.â Jungkook springs into action and ends up calling the shipâs captain to ask for medication.Â
Jungkook walks to the edge of the vessel as he speaks to Jamal on call.
He assumed the crew mustâve updated Jamal about your health already. They had indeed. But since Jamal thought Jungkook had it under control, he didnât interfere.Â
The crew had been informed of your allergic reaction from the night before, so they had assumed your sickness was shellfish related and left it up to Jungkook, thinking heâd know more.Â
Jamal also mistook you for Jungkookâs girlfriend for some reason. Jungkookâs taking this error to the grave.Â
Had they called for him earlier, you wouldâve been taken care of sooner.Â
Huh.Â
Why hadnât Jungkook thought of doing that immediately?Â
Hyewonâs back at the table, secretly rolling her eyes.
She knew it was totally idiotic of her to be jealous of the smallest bit of attention and care her boyfriend was giving you. But for some reason, she couldnât help it.Â
I mean. Even when his own girlfriendâs upset and trying to talk to him, Jungkook prioritises you.Â
She knows itâs only because youâre seriously ill. Yet that does very little to settle her emotions.Â
Jungkook rejoins her, âAlright. Jamalâs gonna check on _____. Iâm sure sheâll be fine.â
Hyewon simply stares at her boyfriend before sighing. She was ready to change the topic.
âBabe, what?â Jungkook asks dumbfounded in reference to the huge sigh she just let out.Â
âNothing! Itâs the same thing, your attention is still on _____. And here I was, trying to talk to you."
Jungkook grows confused.
What?Â
No.Â
He did this for Hyewon. Jungkook made sure you were taken care of so he could spend time with his girlfriend instead of indulging you.Â
It's what she wanted, isn't it?
âIâm here with you, Won. I just made sure _____ gets proper medical attention. We can do whatever you want now. Iâm here, okay?â He was assertive.
Hyewon paused for a few seconds.
He has made Hyewon feel secure enough to move forward with what she had originally planned to do with her boyfriend.Â
Hyewon finally smiled satisfactorily. âOkay⌠I was thinking we could maybe get some dessert and watch an episode of⌠Orange?â She kisses his neck. Jungkook instantly caves, smiling in relief.Â
The pair then sneak off into the vacant room.
You expected Jungkook to return in no less than five to six minutes. Not because you want him to or are waiting for him or anything but because heâd been orbiting around you this entire time. He was refilling your water, checking you for fever, checking your pulse, just whatever, stuff.
So, you know, of course he'd be back soon.
You pout and look around the mostly empty deck, swinging your legs and swaying with the yacht.Â
Where was this man?
Wow, there must be a hell of a fight going on now if heâs taking this long.Â
Maybe you could try to read a book to pass time before he comes back.
You reach into your giant bag to fish out whatever bullshit book Namjoon made you read.Â
âHey, _____. How are we doing here?â The voice literally comes out of nowhere, startling you.
âOh! God. Wow. Hey, Jamal. Whoâs um steering the boat and stuff?â Youâre genuinely concerned. Your question elicits a bright smile from him, âMy partner. Ivy. You know her from the chopper.âÂ
Oh! Wow.Â
âAw, I like Ivy. Also, Iâm doing much better,â You giggle, âThanks to ginger and chamomile.â You show him the empty teacups.
âAh. Well, good. But Iâd still like to take a look at ya. Is that okay?âÂ
You simply nod. Only then do you notice the little first aid kit thingy Jamal carried with him.
He checks your body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, blood sugar, and hands you a pill to help control your nausea. You were skeptical but then you learnt that he was a proper doctor with an actual medical degree and everything.
While Jamal ran whatever tests on you, you canât help but peek at the path leading to the dining room every few seconds, you know, to see if anyoneâs gonna show up anytime soon.Â
Nobody comes through there though.
After Jamal leaves to put his doctorâs kit back where it belonged, you walk up to the railing to watch the water. It looked glittery under the sunâs rays.Â
You then catch a glimpse of a mama sting ray with her baby and excitedly turn to announce it to literally anyone but only spot two girls from the crew.Â
Wow, this was pathetic.Â
Where the hell is everyone?
Ugh, who cares anyway.
You wave the two women over, in hopes of showing them what you spotted.Â
Although, theyâve probably seen a lot more since theyâre on yachts, like, multiple hours every day.Â
ĘđšÉ
The girls, Delaney and Adora, turn out to be great company.
They were just as excited to see the sting rays.
Eventually, you get to talking and learn about each otherâs jobs and hobbies.Â
And oh, this was probably the first time you didnât have to dodge the job question. It felt strangely cathartic. Â
The girls shared your interests in the Real Housewives franchise and fashion. You have an intense discussion to decide who the ultimate housewife was. (There was no single conclusion if you're wondering.)
You've even promised to connect Delaney to a casting agent in New York because you believe sheâd make an excellent runway model.
They tell you stories about all the annoying passengers theyâve had aboard to pass time.Â
Hint: You donât even make it to their top 100. So yay!
The ones that really stuck with you involved an emotional support peacock and a billionaireâs son who tipped everyone in cryptocurrency.Â
The yacht rocked ever so gently. You watch the ocean stretch endlessly in almost every direction. Jamal and Ivy had lowered the speed so you could spot dolphins.Â
Adora and Delaney offered you some fish to use as bait to attract the mammals but you denied. You donât think youâd be able to stomach the scent. And you think the dolphins are much too smart to be baited by a tin of anchovies anyway.
ĘđšÉ
Time passes surprisingly fast when youâre having fun.Â
Namjoon and Yoongi come out to join you in conversation sometime along the way.Â
For a split second, you almost consider asking about Jungkook and Hyewon but stop yourself. Theyâre probably off doing some boring shit you donât want to hear about like drawing each otherâs portraits or whatever.Â
By the time the city comes into view, you're perched on Yoongiâs lap on a lounge chair, chatting away animatedly as though you hadn't spent the past few hours vomiting with biblical enthusiasm.Â
Jungkook and Hyewon finally emerge from their hiding spot.Â
When they approach your little group on the deck, you just give them a small smile and carry on with your conversation with the girls.Â
Despite the couple choosing to sit right beside you, you donât naturally interact with them.Â
Itâs totally not because you're feeling strangely abandoned after a certain lawyer vanished for the better part of an hour and never came back.Â
Hyewon watches you as she always does. Sheâs curious. Trying to figure something out. You were so chatty. She watches you freely interact with the two crew members, having an amazing time. You can practically see the moment she realizes you've spent the better part of an hour chatting happily with two strangers while barely sparing a thought for her the entire trip.
She almost scoffs.
What was she doing wrong? Why canât you be just as pleasant with her?Â
Hyewon puts her head on her boyfriendâs shoulder.
Speaking of the boyfriend; as always, like a moth to a flame, Jungkookâs already subconsciously fixated on you.
Unlike Hyewon, heâs noticing the way youâve grown so close with Yoongi that you feel comfortable enough to sit on his lap, and even touch his face and hair, which is something he hates. Or Jungkook thought he did.
He knew you were absolutely Yoongiâs type. Bratty, pretty, kind of a pain in the ass.
Why did that kinda irritate him?Â
His gaze is locked on Yoongiâs large hands: one's caressing your thigh while the other plays with your voluminous, long hair.
Jungkook also notes how you havenât looked at him or talked to him this whole time. But he gets it, he did just leave you without as much as a word.Â
Yeah.Â
He knows damn well why youâre giving him the cold shoulder.
He wraps his arm around Hyewon and continues to listen in to your conversations with the two women.
ĘđšÉ
Deboarding a yacht takes a lot longer than youâd guess.Â
You could literally see Logan waiting by the car but you had to wait for all the protocols to pass. You could literally just jump off and swim to the pier.
The yacht finally docks.
Once you hop off, you sincerely thank the crew for taking care of you and then sincerely apologise for the inconveniences youâd caused them.
They were really nice about it. Especially the girls.
You also end up having to enlist Yoongi and Namjoonâs help to make them tip the whole crew big bucks since they refused to accept yours. Â
Logan loads up your bags in the back seat while you bid your goodbyes.Â
Yoongi's assistant comes to pick him up and you bid him goodbye with a little kiss on the cheek.
Namjoon leaves with Jungkook and Hyewon.
Before they could get into their vehicle, you meekly approach Hyewon and Jungkook and mutter a little thanks for âdoing as much as they could.â Â
It was subtle snark yet evoked a truly emotional âaw, of courseâ from Hyewon.Â
Jungkook just smirked at your sassiness. You were so infuriating. Such a big baby. It makes him want you even more.Â
Then you turn to Namjoon to give him the tightest hug you've ever given.
You eye Jungkook one last time before running off to your car.
Two days later, you're sitting cross-legged on the floor of your TV room, surrounded by a bunch of stuff, three luxury department store catalogues, random fruit, a bonsai, a Yoshitomo Nara coffee table book and a chilled glass of diet Coke.Â
Curating gift baskets should not be this difficult. It usually isnât! This was your most favourite thing to do, yet you were struggling. Consumerism is beating your ass.Â
Namjoonâs was easy. Youâre giving him a gorgeous little flowering bonsai, exotic fruit and some coffee table books you know heâd love.Â
Hyewon is where youâve hit the first bump.
Youâve settled with fruit and a floral arrangement for her.
But was that too little? Probably.
Maybe if you threw in a bottle of your favourite California rosĂŠ? And a few liquor chocolates? Yeah. Youâd be satisfied if you got this basket.Â
Well, at least those two are finalised.
Jungkookâs was the hardest to arrange.Â
You donât know what to do. You've hit the second bump--- no, youâve hit a wall.Â
What the hell does Jeon Jungkook like? Skincare? Food? You noticed he was pretty knowledgeable about food. Maybe you could bake for- yeah, no you canât even finish that thought, youâd probably kill him.Â
You'd ask Joon but you can't because you want to surprise him with his basket.
You stretch your toes.Â
Jeon Jungkook.Â
You know he uses... pens. He... wears suits and ties and glasses? Piercings. Tattoos. Okay, now youâre just picturing him in your mind.
He was too hot for his own good.
Shoes?
You can never go wrong with shoes. Youâre a total slut for shoes.Â
But you donât want to come off as too⌠eager.Â
You hate that you do gift baskets. But they were your brand. And you canât just ignore all that Jungkookâs done to make your trip smoother.Â
ĘđšÉ
A few hours later, youâve arranged Namjoon's basket and ordered a few items for Hyewon's basket.
And you've also finally made up your mind about Jungkookâs basket.
You were keeping it super casual, putting together some vibrant dragon fruit along with chamomile and ginger tea leaves (and the free brewer that came with it.) And a thank you note, of course.
This was personal enough, you think.
next: killah (jjk) [10]
note: this was way shorter than i intended. i'd have liked this one and the next chapter to be one big chapter buuut tbh it's better this way!
i also want to remind everyone that oc is ultimately the main character and i like to write her as the center of everyone's universe :p indulge me
you know the drillll, tell me what you think, i love asks and comments :D
Hello, my name is Nadin. Iâm from Gaza. Iâm a graphic design graduate, a wifeâand now, a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.
Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husbandâs family home, killing 25 membersâhis mother, siblings, nieces and nephewsâentire branches of our family in seconds.
We were displaced twice. Everything was goneâhome, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebrationânot even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadnât felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.
Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.
Today, Israelâs government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forcesânot Israelâbut with no clear path to peace or normalcy.
The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.
Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.
We Donât Know What Comes Next
Thereâs no clear path forwardâonly uncertainty for our daughterâs life and our ability to survive another day.
My name is Nadin, and Iâm a mother from Gaza.
How You Can Help
Iâm asking for supportânot for comfort, but for survival:
Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.
Support us as I try to stand again on my own feetâeven a glimmer of stability matters.
If youâve read this far, thank you. If you can giveâthank you. If you canâtâjust sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.
synopsis. ten years after leaving his quiet hometown, jungkook finally returns home for the holidays at his motherâs request. heâs built himself into a man feared for his fists and known for his trouble, but the only person heâs ever cared about is the one he left behind: you, his childhood sweetheart. as old memories resurface and buried feelings ignite, jungkook finds himself fighting the one battle he never learned to win: earning back the trust and heart of the girl heâs loved since they were kids.
pairing/genre. biker!jungkook x fem!oc, grumpy x sunshine, âhe hates everyone but her + she loves everyone but himâ, childhood frienemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, eventual smut
tags/warnings. gym-owner!jk, biker!jk, french-teacher!oc, v slight age gap (jk is 28, oc is 25), oc is the sweetest, jk is an asshole (not w oc tho (kinda??)), heâs lwk a bit toxic, city boy returns to hometown, not so cute reunion, jk is confusing (lwk giving mixed signals), jealous jk, painfully oblivious oc, possessive/protective behaviors (from jk and ocâs bestie awe), a lil miscommunication, use of pet names, jealous oc??, jkâs never beating the fuckboy allegations fr but hey heâs trying.., slow burn (more tba!)
the bass thrummed through the barâs speakers, low and heavy. jungkook sat hunched over his drink, the lights catching the ink on his knuckles as he rolled the cold glass of vodka between his tattooed fingers.
the bar smelled oddly like cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, and the sign flickering behind him painted the edge of his sharp jaw in violent red.
he didnât smile. he barely even blinked. and yet every woman in the damn place kept glancing his way.
jungkook didnât do anything to invite them, he never needed to. he had that permanent scowl and cold eyes that made it very clear he didnât fuck with anyone unless he felt like it. and when he did feel like it, he chose recklessly and without a shred of apology.
tonight though, he was just drinking. until a palm slapped the back of his shoulder.
âdudeââ jiminâs voice cut through the music. âi swear on my grandmaâs ashes this super hot chickâs been eye-fucking you since we walked in! like, full-on porno stare. how the hell do you do it, bro?â
jungkook didnât bother turning at first. just tilted his head lazily, let his eyes follow the direction jimin jerked his chin toward.
and yeah. there she was indeed. a gorgeous woman with long, dark hair and a short tight dress that left no room for imagination. confident posture, bold makeup. she was everything but subtle with the way her gaze dragged over him from head to toe, shameless as she bit her lip, slow and deliberate.
jungkookâs tongue pressed into his cheek, a smirk cutting across his mouth. âwhat can i say, man?â he murmured, voice deep and lazy. âitâs no news chicks be thirsting over me all the damn time.â he lifted his glass and sent her a wink.
jimin held up his beer like he wanted to smash it over jungkookâs head. âyou need to bury your ego so far up your asshole no one can find it.â
jungkook shrugged. âsounds like jealousy to me.â
jimin opened his mouth in disbelief. âjealous? of you? bro, the only thing you attract is thirty ass hoes.â
jungkookâs smirk sharpened. âat least iâm getting pussy. what you got, huh?â
jimin didnât even hesitate. he swung a playful punch at jungkookâs shoulder. âiâm getting fucking flowers, man. flowers. and youâll never, NEVER dream of getting any.â
jungkook snorted. âi donât fuck with flowers. only petals iâm interested in are good girlsâ pussies.â
jimin gagged so dramatically he almost fell off the stool. âbro youâre DISGUSTING.â
jungkook lifted his glass, unbothered. âiâm honest.â
âoh my god,â jimin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. âwhy am i even friends with your nasty ass?â
âbecause you love me dude.â
âi really fuckinâ donât.â
jungkook raised a brow. jimin cracked and the two of them burst out laughing at the same time.
just on cue, a couple of snorts came from behind them, three dudes from their crew strolling up like they owned the place. guys jungkook trained with, fought with, and drank with. loud as hell, but loyal until death.
âyo, jaykay! jim!â kai slapped jiminâs back, then jungkookâs shoulder. hard enough that any normal person wouldâve winced. jungkook didnât even flinch.
âwassup, my guys?â jackson grinned, fist-bumping them both.
âsame shit, different night,â jimin muttered.
mark leaned in. âay, jeonâ thereâs somebody asking for you near the entrance.â
jungkook didnât even look up from his drink. âgirl?â
ânah,â the guy said with a shrug. âjust some dude.â
jungkookâs expression twisted into instant annoyance. âthen tell him to fuck off.â
all three guys whistled like heâd just thrown a punch. they were so used to his moodiness. used to the fact jungkook tolerated exactly five people on the planet, and four of them were standing around him right now.
jimin barked out a laugh. âbroâs allergic to anything thatâs not his bike or doesnât have a vagina.â
the guys hollered, pointing at jungkook because yeah, that was true as hell.
âfacts,â jackson snickered. âainât nobody grumpier than this man.â
âfor real,â kai added. âjungkook talks with his fists more than his mouth. last week he knocked out a dude before even hearing what he wanted.â
âdidnât like his face,â jungkook muttered flatly, taking another drink.
jimin rolled his eyes. âyouâre a menace.â
jungkook shrugged. âiâm not here to mingle with some dude who thinks he got something to say to me.â
jimin snorted. âyeah youâre only down to get your dick sucked.â
jungkook smirked. âplease. i get my dick sucked for free and still walk out with a pussy bonus. thatâs a loyalty program to die for.â
the guys lost it, elbowing each other, doing stupid obscene gestures with their hands.
âjaykay jeon!! ladies and gentlemen!â mark cackled.
âbro, this manâs dick got more mileage than his bike,â jackson joked, making a two-handed gesture that earned him a shove from jimin.
âshut the fuck up,â jimin groaned, rubbing his forehead. âyouâre all disgusting as hell.â
jungkook leaned back lazily in his stool, smirk deepening. âhe knows me so well.â
jimin flicked him off. âunfortunately.â
they all cracked up again.
the guys eventually drifted off. kai headed to the pool tables, mark to the back hallway for whatever bullshit he was planning, and jackson toward the girls whoâd been eyeing him since he walked in. the noise swallowed them up with heavy bass, clinking glasses, and someone shouting for shots.
jungkook finally had a moment of quiet. or he wouldâve if his phone hadnât started vibrating like it was getting possessed.
jimin lifted a brow. âdude⌠thatâs gotta be your mom. no girl blows up your phone like that unless sheâs sending nudes, and we both know youâd be smiling if that were the case.â
jungkook groaned, rubbing a hand over his face like the headache was physically crawling out of his skull. âsheâs been on my ass all week.â
jungkookâs glare couldâve melted steel. but he still dug the phone out of his pocket because ignoring her would only make things worse.
another loud buzz made jungkook exhale hard. âfor fuckâs sake,â he muttered and lifted the phone to his ear.
âwhatâs good ma,â he said, scanning the bar lazily; girls leaning into guys, low lights bleeding across figures, the smell of alcohol and sweat mixing thick in the air.
jimin snickered loudly behind him. jungkook didnât even look; he just threw a side punch blindly, forcing jimin to dodge it with a laugh.
then his motherâs voice erupted through the speaker. sharp, stressed, and overly pissed.
âgguk! why arenât you answering your phone? iâve been calling all day! do you ever check anything? i swear, you disappear like you donât care about your poor old moââ
jungkook tilted his head back, closing his eyes. âmomâŚâ
âare you still outside? whatâs that noise? itâs too late! donât tell me youâre still out at this hour!â
jungkookâs eyes snapped open. oh shit. heâs twenty eight for fucks sake, but he somehow needs to make his mom believe heâs still a prude.
ânah, nah,â he said quickly, straightening in his seat. âiâm home with the guys, weâre just blasting music.â
jimin burst out laughing into his fist. jungkook elbowed him in the stomach to shut him up.
âoh! jiminie is there?â his mom perked up immediately, her voice glowing like a damn sunrise.
jungkook handed jimin the phone with a dead stare. âhere. say hi so she stops thinking iâm snorting coke in an alley.â
jimin grinned and leaned in. âhi, mom!â
âjimin! oh my god, sweetheart, itâs been so long! how are you?!â
âliving my best life, mom!! how have you been?â
jungkook wanted to throttle him. he sometimes hates how soft his mom gets with jimin, she thinks heâs an angel, which is a total lie.
mrs jeon returned to jungkook with a sigh that hit him right where he hated it. âjungkookie⌠i miss you. i miss my baby.â
everything in him stilled. he tried to hide the subtle drop in his shoulders, the moment his jaw loosened, the way he suddenly looked away from the crowd like the noise was getting too loud.
ââŚyeah,â he murmured. âmiss you too mom.â
a small pause, not even longer than a minute, before she went for the kill. âso that means youâll come home for the holidays, right? everyone in the village misses you.â
jungkook choked on air. the village? the holidays? âma whatâ no, i never saidâ â
âgood! so itâs all settled! iâll cook your favorite. love you baby!â
âma waitââ
and the call ended just like that.
jungkook stared at his phone like it had just sentenced him to prison time.
jimin was already cackling at his terrified face. âwhatâd she say? bro, you look like someone told you your bike got repossessed.â
jungkook pushed his fingers into his hair and groaned. a long, deep and defeated groan. âlooks like iâm spending the holidays in my hometown.â
jimin slapped the table. ânahh bro we had parties lined up all december! youâre missing out on that?â
jungkook flipped him off without looking. but jimin wasnât done. âyouâre telling me youâre trading strippers and tequila for goats and old people?â
jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think too hard about it.
but he did. and he couldnât help it.
the village. the mountains. that stupid freezing air. his childhood home. and more importantly, you.
itâs funny how his mind went there faster than he could stop it.
he hadnât seen you since he walked out of that place. freshly eighteen, angry at the world, convinced he needed to run or suffocate.
you were only fifteen then. but hell, he remembered.
you, sitting on the old wooden steps with a sketchbook balanced on your knees.
you, with paint on your fingers and your little pigtails tugged with a ribbon you always fixed with your teeth.
you, scolding him when he stole your brushes.
you, shoving him when he made fun of the way you blushed.
itâs been ten years. ten years of bars and girls and mistakes. ten years of fast rides and faster nights. ten years of pretending the past didnât exist.
but every once in a while, your face would flash in his head.
he wasnât a saint. heâd slept with more women than he could count. dated girls the way he smoked cigarettes; quickly, carelessly, burning out halfway through.
but a man always remembers his first love. and fuck, you were his.
his mom had slipped your name a few times in conversation. âsheâs still here!â sheâd said casually. âshe helps kids at the school sometimes!â
jungkook never asked for more. but only because he didnât trust what answers would do to him.
a slow heat curled in his stomach from the thought. maybe going home wasnât the worst idea after all.
a slight shift in the room pulled him back. followed by the sound of heels clicking, and the smell of strong perfume.
jungkook blinked once, settling back into the present as the girl from earlier strutted toward him. her hips swaying, eyes locked on him like sheâd already picked him out and unwrapped him.
her red painted lips parted in a sweet little smirk. her dress glimmered under the lights, tight and short and very intentionally dangerous.
jungkookâs expression changed instantly. something darker sliding behind his eyes, something lazy and wicked curling into his mouth.
he forced every thought of you deep, deep down where nothing could reach it.
not tonight. tonight, he wanted to go numb. tonight, he wanted easy. tonight, he wanted to bury himself in someone who didnât know a single real thing about him.
and she looked exactly like that.
jungkook leaned back in his seat, licking his lower lip slowly as she approached.
a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face. the kind that meant trouble for whoever was dumb enough to fall for it.
yeah. tonight had been a rough night for him. and he really, really needed to get laid.
. . .
you scrunched your face, as something tickled you at the very tip of your nose. you swatted the air with a lazy hand, half-asleep and very much not interested in waking up yet.
you let out a small whine, rolling onto your side. âhmm⌠stopâŚâ the sensation didnât go away. instead, it came back again followed by something warm and sticky pressing against your lips.
a groan, rumbled in your chest. ârocky⌠stoppp,â you mumbled, the words turning into a breathy giggle as sleep finally began to fade away.
the weight on your chest suddenly doubled as something small jumped softly onto you. your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the pale morning light. the first thing you saw was fur, scruffy, brown, and very much in your face.
little rocky stood proudly on your chest, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook.
âyouâre unbelievable,â you whispered fondly, your lips curling into a sleepy smile as you reached up to cradle his head. your fingers slipped behind his ears, scratching gently. he melted instantly, leaning into your touch with a pleased little bark, one back leg thumping against the blanket.
âsuch a pretty boy. did you miss me? hmm?â you scratched under his chin, and he tipped his head back, offering his belly without any hesitation. âyes, you did, my love. yes, you did.â
with another giggle, you pushed yourself upright, carefully scooping the wriggling bundle of joy into your arms. he was full of affection, licking at your jaw, his tiny heart beating against your palm. âokay, okay, rockyyy, you lilâ boy, iâll put you down,â you cooed and crouched, setting him down gently. the moment his paws hit the ground, he took off, nails clicking excitedly as he disappeared down the hallway. you watched him go, a fond smile playing on your lips.
you walked towards the window. a yawn escaped you as you grasped the edges of the floral curtains, you drew them back letting the cold air rush in.
it smelled like rain-soaked earth and damp leaves.
the late november sky was pale but bright, the sun peeking through low clouds.
movement below caught your eye. in the muddy lane between the cottages, two of the henderson children, wrapped in bright wellingtons and matching yellow raincoats, were jumping happily into puddles, shrieking with laughter every time water splashed up their boots. you giggled, resting your chin on your hands, watching them with quiet amusement.
today was saturday.
a small, familiar pang of disappointment touched you. no classroom today, no little voices struggling through french vowels or proudly showing off new words theyâd memorized just for you. teaching the village children was your favorite part of the week. you loved their curiosity, their eagerness, the proud spark in their eyes when they mastered âbonjourâ or âmerciâ
still, you shook the thought away. the day was too beautiful to waste on longing.
after getting dressed in your soft cream sweater and a long skirt, leaving your hair loose, the strands still holding the slight wave from yesterdayâs braid, you headed into the living room. the smell of fresh orange juice and something sweet filled the air.
the low murmur of familiar voices greeted you as you approached the living room. it was a comforting sound to your ears that you grew up with. your motherâs home was a warm welcoming place where friends and neighbors drifted in and out with the ease of family.
ââŚand she said the ring was huge,â mrs. jeon was saying. âjust one stone, but so shiny you could barely look at it.â
your mother laughed from her armchair. âbarbaraâs been glowing ever since. she told me all about his apartment before i even asked!â
you smiled as you entered the sunny room. your mother sat in her favorite armchair, a half-knitted scarf pooling in her lap. mrs. jeon was perched on the sofa, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. both women radiated a comfortable, decades-old friendship.
âgood morning,â you sang softly, your voice like honey in the room.
your motherâs face immediately brightened. âgood morning sweetheart, did you sleep well?â
you drifted over, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. âlike a baby! the sound of the rain was the best lullaby.â you then turned to mrs. jeon, opening your arms. âgood morning, auntie.â
âah, my darling girl!â mrs. jeon enveloped you in a warm hug, she held you at armâs length, her eyes crinkling. âlook at you. you brighten a room just by walking into it. how do you do it?â
you felt a blush warm your cheeks and shook your head, dismissing the praise with a wave of your hand. âitâs all the sunshine you and mama bring in. i just reflect it.â
you made your way to the small kitchen table, where a plate of fluffy golden pancakes waited under a cloth. the buttery scent was just irresistible.
mrs. jeon turned back to your mother, sighing. âelisa, really. how did you manage to give birth to such an angel? was there a special prayer?â
your mother laughed, the sound warm and soothing. âwhat can i say, hae-un? it takes one to know one. only an angel could raise another, donât you think?â
the two women burst into easy, familiar laughter. you smiled softly, spreading a generous dollop of your motherâs homemade strawberry jam that youâd helped pick and prepare, the berries from old mr. sakamotoâs patch at the edge of the village, onto a pancake.
you loved their friendship. fifty years of shared secrets, hardships, and joys. you hoped your own friendship with your best friend mandy, would be as enduring, something to grow old and gossipy with.
mrs. jeonâs gaze shifted back to you, her expression turning kindly curious. âbarbaraâs daughter, phoebe⌠sheâs a friend of yours, isnât she, dear?â
you nodded, swallowing a tender, sweet bite. âshe is! we were in the same year at school. phoebeâs always been such a sweet person.â your words were genuine. you remembered a quiet girl with a nice smile, though your paths hadnât crossed deeply since childhood. you held no space for negativity in your heart; if someone was kind, you remembered them as such.
mrs. jeon let out a fond âawwâ, as if your sweetness physically pained her. âyou truly are an angel walking this earth.â
your mother leaned forward. âapparently, the man phoebeâs marrying is some big businessman in georgia. barbara was telling me all about his company and how much money he earns a year!â
mrs. jeon laughed. âthatâs barbara for you.â
you took a sip of orange juice, smiling along, and nodding gently. âiâm just so happy for phoebe,â you said, meaning it fully. âi hope theyâll be very happy together. may god bless their marriage!â
what you didnât say out loud (but thought about briefly) was the version maddy had told you weeks ago. about phoebe going to the city for the first time, her night out at a club, and how sheâd met a man there, how one thing led to another, and how it turned out he was wealthy, very wealthy. a millionaire, apparently.
maddy had made it sound so scandalous. youâd listened, surprised more than anything, but not judgmental. phoebe had told her mother eventually, leaving the part where she lost her virginity to him, maddy said sheâd had to, or her mother wouldâve worried herself sick.
thinking back on it now, you didnât feel anything negative. just a quiet sense of relief that things had worked out. people found love in all sorts of unexpected ways. not every story looked the same, and that was okay. love didnât have to be perfect to be real. what mattered was that phoebe seemed safe, cared for, and happy.
mrs. jeon sighed. âitâll be your turn before we know it. such a treasure wonât stay hidden forever.â
your motherâs smile turned wistful, a little fragile. âoh goodness donât remind me! iâm not ready to have my only baby taken away by some⌠some stranger.â
you giggled. âmama, iâm not going anywhere, anytime soon. this village, this house, you⌠this is my heart, and i plan on sticking here, bothering you, for a very, very long time!â
mrs. jeonâs eyes twinkled. âwhat a die-for daughter-in-law, then.â she took a sip of her tea, and then her expression shifted, brightening with a sudden, proud remembrance. âspeaking of which! my jungkook is coming home for the holidays! he confirmed last week.â
something stiffened inside of you at the mention of the name. you blinked, your smile faltering just slightly before you caught yourself.
jungkook. the boy with the bunny-like features that were a complete lie, because there had been nothing soft or cute about him. he was coming back here? to spend the holidays?
a vivid memory flashed in your mind; the two of you, maybe twelve and fifteen, on your front steps. youâd been sketching the old oak tree, heâd snatched your pencil, his grin wide, and before you could grab it back, heâd added a ridiculous squirrel with bulging eyes to the corner of your beautiful paper.
jeon jungkook had left a decade ago, following mr. jeon to the city for a new job, and your primary emotion had been relief. while the other girls in the village had cried and whined over his departure, you had simply been glad to see the annoying boy who seemed to exist only to get under your skin, leave you in peace.
you were never a person who held grudges. you believed in forgiveness, in the inherent goodness of people. but jungkook⌠jungkook had felt like a personal challenge to that belief. and now he was returning.
your mother perked up immediately, clapping her hands together. âlittle jungkook! oh hae-un, thatâs wonderful! itâs been an age. he must be so grown now.â
âgrown and too stuck on city life with his father,â mrs. jeon said, though her pride was evident beneath the gentle scold. âthat boy⌠he rarely answers my calls. too busy with his gym and his motorbike friends, i suppose. needs a little lesson in remembering his roots.â
your mother laughed, reaching over to pat her friendâs hand. âheâs a man now, hae-un. let him live his life. heâll find his way back to what matters in his own time.â
mrs. jeon sighed, a motherâs eternal sigh. âi know, i know. but heâs still my baby. i just want to feed him properly and see his face.â
you kept your eyes on your plate, carefully cutting another piece of pancake, trying to will the strange tightness in your chest away. it was silly. he was just a boy from your past, now a man you didnât know. there was no reason for this odd sense of foreboding.
just then, your momâs warm voice cuts gently through your thoughts. âhoney, would you be a dear and run to the market for me? weâre running low on fruits, and i need some more vegetables for the stew tonight.â
you lifted your head, your sunny smile effortlessly returning. âof course, mama.â
she smiled, wiping her hands on a towel. âthereâs a list on the fridge door,â she added. âtake your time and enjoy the air. itâs a beautiful morning!â
you nodded, rising and taking your plate to the sink. as you passed the fridge, you pulled the small notepad free. apples, pears, sweet potatoes, carrots, ginger, a large pumpkin if they look good, and⌠beets? the last item had a question mark, as if sheâd been debating.
you tucked the list into the pocket of your skirt. the mention of jungkook felt like a dark cloud momentarily passing over your sunlit morning, but you were determined not to let it linger. you had a beautiful village to walk through and warm greetings to exchange. the past, and a boy who belonged to it, could wait.
. . .
the market had been busy; quiet chatter, soft laughter, the scrape of crates being dragged. you took your time, like you always did. you stopped at each stall, greeting people by name, listening when they talked a little longer than necessary.
mr. sakamoto insisted you take the pumpkin closest to the front, knocking on it twice and declaring it âa good oneâ before you could even ask. mrs. lee slipped an extra pear into your bag when she thought you werenât looking, but you did, and you thanked her anyway. youâd also helped little annette, the floristâs daughter, re-tie her apron, her small fingers fumbling with the strings. by the time you left, both cloth bags were heavy in your hands; apples, carrots, sweet potatoes, ginger, and a huge pumpkin tucked awkwardly under your arm.
the road home was calm. the air was cold but fresh, the kind that made your cheeks sting just a little. you hummed under your breath, not even realizing you were doing it, stepping carefully over damp patches where the rain hadnât quite dried yet.
you were halfway down the lane when the sound hit. an engine, loud, sudden, completely wrong and unusual for a place like this.
you turned just as a motorcycle came into view, moving fast, far too fast. your stomach dropped. there wasnât enough time to react properly, only enough to freeze.
the bike swerved sharply at the last second, tires skidding over loose gravel as the rider slammed on the brakes. it stopped only a few feet ahead of you. the shock knocked you backward.
your foot caught on a stone and you went down hard, landing on the damp ground with a breathless gasp. the bags slipped from your hands. fruit rolled everywhere. apples bounced into the ditch, carrots scattered, and the pumpkin hit the ground splitting open.
for a moment, you just sat there, stunned, your chest tight as you tried to breathe properly again. your palms stung. cold soaked through your skirt.
âare you fucking serious?â a voice snapped. âwhat the hell were you doing standing in the middle of the road like that?â
black boots came into your line of sight. big heavy ones. you slowly looked up.
the man towering over you was nothing like anyone from the village; leather jacket, black jeans, a white tank stretched over broad shoulders, tattoos crept down his arms and across his hands. he pulled his helmet off with a sharp movement, clearly irritated, running a hand through his hair.
your eyes finally reached his face, and your breath hitched for a whole new reason.
he was still cursing under his breath, his glare fierce. âdo you fucking hear me, or what? you justââ
his words cut off sharply. he stopped in his tracks, his imposing figure going completely still. his furious gaze snapped back to your face, really seeing you for the first time.
his expression shifted, like something had slammed into him headfirst. a low mutter escaped him, more to himself than to you. ââŚlittle bear?â
your body stiffened immediately. that nickname.
you knew it before your mind fully caught up. you looked at him properly now, really looked. the familiar eyes hit you first. dark, wide, unmistakable doe eyes. everything else had changed. he was taller, broader, and more buff somehow. piercings glinted under the pale sunlight. he looked like someone who didnât belong here anymore.
jungkook.
it was really him. jeon jungkook. the bane of your childhood. the boy youâd danced with joy to see leave.
you swallowed, pushing yourself up off the ground, brushing dirt from your skirt with quick, embarrassed movements. âmrs. jeon didnât tell us he was coming today,â you muttered to yourself, more annoyed than surprised.
he just stared at you, disbelief giving way to something far more unsettling. heâd always known you were a pretty girl. hell, youâd been the prettiest thing in his shitty little world back then. but now? fuck, youâd grown into something that made his mouth go completely dry.
a smirk, lazy and confident, began to play at the corner of his mouth, changing his face from intimidating to dangerously appealing.
âwell, well,â he drawled, his voice dropping an octave deeper, into something more teasing. âlittle bear. seems like you fell for me already? damn, couldâve just said hello.â
heat flooded your cheeks as you completely ignored him and turned with a soft âoofâ to the mess on the ground. âawee, noâŚâ you sighed, the sound soft and genuinely disappointed, crouching down to salvage what you could. you wiped dirt off an apple, checking it carefully before setting it aside.
jungkook just watched you, the smirk now fully formed. fuck. fuck. fuck. you were the most adorable thing heâd ever seen. you hadnât changed one bit in the way you dealt with him; ignoring the main point (him), muttering about minor details, that adorable pout. it sent a ridiculous, warm thrill through his cold veins.
after a moment, he crouched too, picking up a pear. his large hands looked completely wrong doing something so gentle.
âwhat?â he finally said, his voice a low rumble. âyouâre just gonna ignore me now? after ten years, little bear? not even a little happy to see me?â the old nickname slipped out again, laced with a mocking charm heâd perfected on a hundred other women. it never failed to get a reaction.
and yet, you ignored him. you simply finished gathering the last carrot, stood up, and held out your now-half-full bag. you reached for the bag heâd been filling.
âgive me the bag, please,â you said, your voice soft, the utter opposite of him. it was even softer than he remembered, and it did something strange to his insides.
he straightened to his full height, holding the bag just out of your reach. he shrugged. ânah. how about a welcome hug first? for old timeâs sake, or a kiss. i donât mind which.â he tilted his head, the smirk turning wicked, his eyes blatantly dropping to your lips for a heartbeat.
you looked up at him, truly stunned. your eyes widened, your soft frown deepening. heâd grown bolder. more arrogant. you finally addressed him directly, your tone firmer, though it still lacked any real sharpness. âjungkook. give me my bag. now.â
âfuck,â he breathed out, not at your demand, but at the sound of his name on your tongue. it was both a prayer and a curse. he shook his head slowly, the smirk never wavering. âthatâs all i get? âgive me my bagâ ? you didnât miss me? too bad.â he tsked, playing with the bagâs handle. âand here i was so excited to see you, hm?â
your patience, which turned thin by the fall, the mess, and his overwhelming presence, finally snapped. a soft, frustrated groan escaped you, louder than your usual murmurs. âitâs cold,â you stated. âand i need to get home now. give it!â you extended your hand again, stamping one foot lightly on the gravel. the gesture was so childishly impatient, so utterly you, that it stunned him for a second. âyou and your stupid, scary bike are already the reason all my fruits are ruined and my pumpkin is⌠is dead! and now you want to keep them hostage? just give them back!â
he looked at you, utterly amused. your little show of temper was better than any city nightclub, any bar fight. the way your nose scrunched, the way your wide eyes flashed, it was a fire he hadnât known you could still spark. he wanted to poke it, to see how bright it could burn.
he cocked his head, his expression one of feigned innocence. âhostage? thatâs a bit dramatic, little bear. see, from where i was riding, it looked an awful lot like you were walking in the middle of the lane without looking around you.â he said, then added with an amused smirk. âso whose fault is it, really? mine? or yours?â he took a step closer, invading your space, the scent of leather, and something uniquely, dangerously male enveloping you.
you huffed, an exasperated sound that made his smirk widen. youâd had enough. of him, of his bike, of his smirk, of the way his presence made you feel claustrophobic.
âyou can do whatever you want,â you said, your voice tight. and with that, you turned on your heel, clutching your single bag to your chest, and began to march down the lane towards home, your steps quick.
jungkook watched you go, a slow, genuine laugh shaking his shoulders. he shook his head, a strange, unfamiliar feeling stirring in his chest, something far more interesting than irritation or lust.
he didnât call after you. instead, he walked back to his monstrous motorcycle, swung a leg over it, and settled your bag of fruits securely in front of him. he turned the key, and the engine roared back to life, that same terrifying sound that had started it all. but this time, he didnât speed off.
he rolled forward at a walking pace behind your rapidly retreating form. he didnât try to pull alongside you; he just followed, making sure you knew he was there, that he was watching, and that he had no intention of letting you (or your groceries) disappear so easily. but most importantly, he was finally home.
. . .
the sound of the motorcycle stayed behind you longer than it should have.
even after you turned onto the familiar path leading home, the engine was still there. you didnât look back. you kept walking, eyes fixed ahead. the familiar roof of your house came into view through the bare branches, and you focused on that instead of the noise following you like it had a right to.
the cold air bit at your cheeks, your fingers stiff around the grocery bag. you told yourself not to react. donât give him the satisfaction.
you reached the small white gate and fumbled with the latch, irritation making your movements clumsy. you pushed through, and grabbed the front door handle just as the engine shut off behind you.
you stepped inside and closed the door firmly, exhaling as warmth wrapped around you. you could already smell something sweet baking in the kitchen. voices drifted from the living room.
you were halfway through pulling off your boots when the door opened again.
jungkook stepped inside, grocery bag in hand, shutting the door behind him with quiet confidence. you froze.
for a moment, he just stood there, taking in the entryway. the walls hadnât changed. the small table by the door was still there. he glanced around once, then looked at you.
from the living room, your motherâs warm and curious voice floated. âsweetheart, is that you? that was quick!â she appeared, wiping her hands on a checkered apron, her smile fading into pleasant confusion as she saw you once half full bag. âoh! where are all theâ?â
âgot them,â jungkook said easily as he stepped forward and stood beside you.
your motherâs eyes widened, her hand flying to her chest. âjungkook? little jungkook? is that really you?â
mrs. jeon sprang up with a speed that belied her years, her face a storm of emotions, shock, joy and maternal fury. âjungkook! my son!â she rushed across the room, not for a hug, but to swat at his arm. âyou! you said youâd call when you reached the town! do you know how worried iâve been? riding that death machine in this cold! and you walk in here like a⌠a gangster!â
jungkook, looked momentarily chastised, a faint pink covering the tip of his ears. he gently set the bag down by the umbrella stand and endured his motherâs fluttering, scolding hands. âma, iâm fine. the bikeâs fine too. stop.â he submitted to her pulling him down for a tearful, tight hug, his own arms coming around her stiffly, his eyes squeezed shut for a second in a mix of affection and profound embarrassment at being dressed down in front of you and your mother.
âlook at you,â your mother breathed, her initial surprise melting into delight. she came closer, her eyes misty. âlittle jungkook, all grown up. so tall! so handsome!â she reached out and pinched his cheek, and you saw his jaw tighten, a grunt of tolerance escaping him.
âhey, aunt elisa,â he said, his voice a rough scrape of politeness. he extracted himself from his motherâs grasp, giving a short nod. his posture was stiff with tension, shoulders tight under the leather, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional display. this was the grumpy prick who hated small talk and familial doting.
but his eyes, those beautiful doe-like eyes, werenât on the two women surrouding him. they instead found you, standing by the stairs, watching the spectacle. his gaze was sweeping from where your long skirt ends up to your flustered face, and a corner of his mouth twitched.
mrs. jeon held him at armâs length, her critical motherâs eye analysing every change. her focus lingered on the silver glint at his eyebrow, lips and the stud in his ear. âand what is this?â she gasped, poking a finger near his eyebrow. âyou are putting holes in your face? trying to ruin godâs good work? aish, this city life!â
your mother chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. âoh, hae-un, leave the boy be. he looks very modern. very charming! itâs what all the young people do nowadays.â she winked at jungkook, who looked like heâd rather be anywhere else.
jungkookâs mind drifted to the sprawling ink that covered half his torso and down his arm. damn. if sheâs having a meltdown over a couple of piercings, sheâs gonna have a coronary when she sees the new tattoos. he shoved the thought away.
âitâs just metal, ma,â he muttered, shifting his weight. âforget it.â
âforget it? how can i âforgetâ when my sonâs looking like a street thug?â
âhe looks strong and stylish!â your mother countered loyally, beaming. âyou should be proud he turned out so striking!â
the two mothers launched into a familiar, loving debate, their voices layering over each other, scolding and defending, a duet of care and exasperation. jungkook used the distraction as his exit. his eyes never left you as he took a few deliberate steps towards the kitchen.
your mother, mid-sentence, noticed your stillness. âdarling, be a sweetheart and put the kettle on, will you? jungkook must be frozen through. weâll have some tea!â
flustered, you nodded, grateful for a task before you slipped into the kitchen. you filled the old copper kettle at the sink, your hands trembling slightly. you were so focused on calming your own chaotic heartbeat that you didnât hear his approach.
you only felt the shift in the air, the subtle heat from the door being blocked, the alarming sense of his presence. you turned.
he was leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder propped against the wood, his arms crossed over his broad chest. he completely filled the space, his body stood like a barrier between you and the cheerful chatter in the living room. he was studying you carefully, the way your sweater sleeves were pushed up your forearms, the nervous flutter of your fingers, the way you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.
a slow, utterly shameless smirk spread across his face at the sight.
you quickly turned back to the stove, fumbling with the knobs. the silence between you was thick.
âstill jumpy around me, little bear?â
you stiffened, your back to him. you could feel his intense gaze on you.
âor is it just my general effect on women?â he continued, his tone dripping with a lazy, arrogant amusement. âcanât decide if you want to run or throw something at me. thatâs cute.â
you spun around, the tea towel in your hands clenched into a soft ball. âi am not âjumpyâ,â you hissed, keeping your voice low to match his. âi am trying to make tea because my mother asked me to. and you are blocking the doorway.â
he didnât move. his smirk only deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he looked you up and down, that alone made heat bloom under your skin. âyeah, i am. problem?â he uncrossed his arms, planting his palms on either side of the doorframe, caging you in even more effectively. âten years and you still get that little wrinkle right here,â he murmured, nodding toward the space between your brows. âwhen youâre annoyed with me. some things never change.â
âsome things do,â you retorted, lifting your chin, refusing to be cowed. âmost people learn to knock before entering someoneâs home.â
a dark chuckle escaped him. âwell, itâs my second home. always was.â his gaze softened for a fraction of a second, before it was shuttered away. âbesides, i was carrying your groceries. youâre welcome, by the way.â
âyou were the reason they were on the ground in the first place!â
âdebatable.â
the whistle of the kettle screamed to life behind you. you jumped, and his smirk returned in full force.
jumpy.
you turned off the stove with more force than necessary. âthe tea is ready,â you announced, your voice politely cold. âif you would please move.â
he held your gaze for a long minute and with a slight tilt of his head, he pushed off the doorframe. he didnât move aside to let you pass. instead, he turned and walked back toward the living room, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, his voice a low promise that made your stomach twist.
âthis is gonna be a fun holiday, little bear.â
. . .
the cafĂŠ was the kind of place where everything felt at peace. the smell of fresh croissants filled the space, mixed with a faint hint of paint from the small art corner. you sat at your usual table near the bay window, where the afternoon light came in just right, a small canvas set up on its easel in front of you.
you were painting the chrysanthemums in a jar on the counter.
across from you, mandy was halfway through a slice of mille-feuille, clearly enjoying herself. flakes of pastry clung to her sweater, and a bit of cream lingered at the corner of her mouth. still, her attention wasnât on the dessert. her eyes kept drifting around the cafĂŠ, which was more crowded than usual for a saturday afternoon.
âokay, donât look now,â she whispered, leaning so far forward she almost knocked over your water cup. âbut jessica kim just walked in. and i swear to you, she is wearing false eyelashes. to get a damn latte. jessica, who considers tinted lip balm as âtoo bold.â â
you didnât glance up, focusing on mixing a shade of burnt umber on your palette. âmaybe she has a⌠date later?â you offered, your voice soft, trying to cling to giving everyone the benefit of the doubt.
mandy snorted, almost un-ladylike. âa date with her own reflection in the window of jeonâs house maybe.â she took another huge bite, talking around it. âitâs not just her. i passed by the hairdresserâs on the way here, it was fully booked. mrs. martinez said sheâs done three âlast minute emergenciesâ since noon. for what? brave the november drizzle? please.â
you sighed, as you dipped your brush, but your strokes were slower now. the village had a quiet familiar rhythm you understood deeply. but now it was moving with a strange energy that you couldnât shake off.
âand janette at the flower shop, told me she delivered flowers to mrs. jeonâs house this morning,â mandy continued, her voice dropping to a scandalized whisper. âvery early, and apparently mrs. jeonâs son answered the door shirtless. sheâs still not over it by the way.â mandy fanned herself dramatically with a napkin. âthe drama! i havenât seen this much of it ever since mr. johnson cheated on his 6 month pregnant wife with that twenty-something waitress.â
you finally looked up from your canvas, your brow creasing. âthatâs a bit⌠much, donât you think? heâs just a boy.â your words were naive, and you knew it the moment they left your lips.
mandy paused, her fork hovering mid-air. she looked at you with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. âsweetie, honey, light of my life. he is not âjust a boyâ heâs a walking, talking, motorcycle riding monument to sinful city dreams. he left here a cute, troublesome bunny-boy and came back looking like⌠well, like that.â she gestured vaguely. âi heard the lee sisters whispering by the bread stand. they said he looks like the kind of man whoâd ruin you for all other men, and youâd thank him for the privilege while he walked away without a backward glance.â
a strange drop of something unpleasant settled in your stomach. you didnât like that description. it felt cheap and dismissive. it reduced the infuriating boy you remembered, and the even more infuriating man heâd become, to a villain from one of amandaâs city-girl romance novels. âthatâs a horrible thing to say about someone,â you murmured, your hand tightening on your brush.
mandy shook her head, a soft, knowing smile on her lips. she reached over and patted your hand, her gesture leaving a tiny smudge of sugar on your skin. âyou sweet, summer child. you wouldnât understand. your idea of a dangerous man is mr. henderson when heâs had one too many at the harvest festival and tries to waltz with the prize pumpkin.â
you huffed, a puff of air that stirred your bangs. âheâs not all of that,â you muttered, more to the painting than to mandy. âheâs just⌠jungkook. but worse.â
mandyâs eyes lit up as she put her fork down. âah ha! there it is. i was wondering when weâd get to the real tea, spill. youâve been painting like youâre trying to murder those innocent flowers.â
you sighted before you told her about the terrifying roar of his bike, the spilled groceries, the humiliating fall. you described his towering presence, the mocking âlittle bear,â the way heâd followed you home like a dark cloud. âand he just walked in, mandy! didnât even knock! he stood in our kitchen doorway, with that⌠that smirk on his face. like he ownedâ â you cut yourself off, your cheeks flushing. âheâs so arrogant. itâs doubled since we were kids. heâs like a giant, tattooed mosquito, and iâm the only one he wants to bother.â
mandy listened, her chin propped in her hand. as you finished, a slow, cheshire-cat grin spread across her face. she sucked a bit of cream from her thumb, her gaze shrewd.
âsoâŚâ she drawled, drawing the word out. âlet me get this straight. he nearly scares you half to death, helps pick up your groceries, carries your bag, walks into your house without hesitation, and spends the whole time his momâs crying over him staring at you, specifically teasing you.â she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. âheâs still an annoying prick. but heâs your annoying prick, hm? interesting.â
you blinked. âwhat? no! mandy, heâs not âmyâ anything! he was probably doing all that to figure out new ways to irritate me, thatâs what he has been doing ever since we were kids.â
âor,â mandy said, her tone playful, âhe was a stupid, hormone-addled boy who had a crush on the sweetest girl in town and his only way of dealing with it was to pull her pigtails and ruin her drawings.â
you shook your head, sending your hair swinging. âno mandy, thatâs a childrenâs story. this is a grown man. a grown man who looks like he⌠like heâŚâ you struggled for the right phrase, âhe looks like a walking red flag. you know, the kind amanda warns us about.â the words felt foreign and a little too harsh in your mouth, but they fit the image of the man whoâd winked at you and demanded a welcome kiss. a kiss??!
mandyâs grin didnât falter. âoh, heâs absolutely a red flag from what iâve heard. i donât doubt that for a second.â she picked up her fork again, twirling it. âbut hereâs the thing about flags, sunshine. they only warn you about the danger. they donât stop you from walking right into the bullring.â she took a final, satisfied bite. âand from what youâve told me, that bull only has eyes for one particular little matador. everyone else just gets the snort and the dust.â
you didnât like the way that landed. you glanced back at your painting, the colors had muddied, the petals ended up sharper than you intended. it reflected exactly how you felt; unsettled and totally thrown off balance.
you cleaned your brush slowly, watching the paint swirl away. jungkook being back wasnât just inconvenient. it felt like something had been disrupted, and whether you liked it or not, you were right in the middle of it.
. . .
the morning air was cold enough to sting your cheeks as you stepped outside. you pulled your thickest wool cardigan tighter around yourself, and tucked the basket of chicken feed under your arm. rocky trotted at your heels, tail wagging, his breath puffing faintly in the air.
beautiful late novembre morning.
or it was, until you stepped into the small, fenced garden beside your house.
you heard it before you saw anything. the steady clink of metal, followed by low voices. you scattered grain for the hens and glanced past your fence, toward the jeonâs house.
jungkook was in the driveway.
he was bent over his motorcycle. he wore worn jeans and a black tank top, nothing heavy enough for the cold, but he didnât seem bothered by it. his shoulders and arms flexed as he tightened something with a ratchet, tattoos fully visible now that his jacket was gone. his hair fell into his eyes as he worked, focused, completely at ease in a place he hadnât lived in for years.
of course, you thought, a flush of heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the cold. of course this is what you see first thing in the morning. you tried to look away, to focus on little nino pecking diligently at your feet, but your eyes were your biggest traitors.
a giggle, high and affected, sliced through the quiet from down the lane. you turned your head slightly. there, gathered near the old stone well about fifty yards away, were the lee sisters, and emily from the bakery. they were huddled together, clutching paper coffee cups, but their bodies were angled unmistakably towards the jeonâs driveway. they werenât even pretending to look at each other. one of the twin sisters was whispering behind her hand, her eyes wide, while her twin had a gloved hand pressed to her cheek, fanning herself dramatically despite the cold weather. emily was openly staring, her mouth slightly agape.
the whole thing made your stomach twist. it was embarrassing, to him for providing it, them for gawking, and yourself for standing there pretending not to notice while noticing everything.
with an irritated huff, you dumped the rest of the feed into the trough and turned back toward the house. rocky barked once in confusion, then followed you inside.
jungkookâs hands stilled on the bikeâs engine. without lifting his head, his eyes, which had been fixed on a carburetor, flicked upward, following your retreating body. heâd clocked you the second you stepped outside. heâd felt your movement; the way youâd stopped once you noticed his presence, your reluctant glances. a faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, unseen by the giggling girls down the lane. heâd made you look. even when you wished you hadnât. he wiped his hands slowly on a rag, before returning to his work, unbothered.
the days that followed only got worse.
jungkook became the villageâs main topic of conversation without ever trying to be. people followed his appearances like news.
at the market, he stood out immediately; taller than most, darker clothes, sharp presence. mrs. lee insisted on giving him fruit, fussing over how thin he looked. he accepted it with a short nod and a rough thanks, then gave an illusion of a smile just enough to leave her flustered.
at the pub, he kept to himself, nursing a drink in the corner. the men stayed away. the women, on the other hand, didnât. janette from the flower shop found excuses to stop by. jessica kim laughed too loudly whenever she passed his table. he never encouraged them, never fully shut them down either. he stayed detached, amused at best, distant at worst.
and somehow, he was always where you were.
at the post office, youâd be filling out a shipping label when the doorbell rang behind you. youâd feel him being too close, standing right at your back.
âlittle bear,â heâd say quietly. âsending love letters to your city boyfriend?â
youâd ignore him, focusing intently on your task.
heâd lean in, his breath stirring the hair near your ear. âbet theyâre not as good as the ones you used to write me. what was it? âdear stupid jungkook, you are a toad. give me my pencil back.â hm?â
a hot flush would crawl up your neck. âi was twelve,â youâd mutter through clenched teeth.
âand i was fifteen,â heâd counter, as if that explained everything. then heâd reach around you, his tattooed arm brushing yours, to grab a blank customs form he didnât even need before walking away, leaving you flustered and the postmistress fanning herself.
at the market, youâd carefully pick apples, placing them one by one into your basket, only for his hand to slip in front of yours and grab the shiniest red delicious one youâd just chosen.
âhey!â youâd protest, turning to find him already taking a loud, crisp bite of the stolen fruit. juice gleamed on his lower lip.
heâd chew slowly, his eyes locked on yours, a challenge in their dark depths. âwhat? it looked good.â heâd take another bite. âtastes good, too. so sweet.â the way he said it made it sound like he wasnât talking about the apple.
âthatâs stealing,â youâd say, trying for stern but your voice coming out breathless.
heâd shrug. âput it on my tab.â heâd finish the apple in two more bites and toss the core perfectly into a trash bin several feet away. âsee you around, little bear.â
the most infuriating encounter was at the library. you were in the quiet kids section, reaching for a french book about fairytales on a high shelf. you were on your tiptoes, fingertips brushing the edges.
âneed a hand, short stuff?â
you yelped, stumbling back, only to be steadied by two large hands on your shoulders. he was right behind you, having moved with a practiced silence. he didnât let go. he simply reached up, easily retrieved the book, and handed it to you, his body caging you against the bookshelf.
âyouâre⌠youâre in a library,â you whispered, aware of the silence, of the librarian watching with owl eyes from her desk.
ânoticed,â he murmured, he wasnât looking at the book. he was looking at your face, his gaze dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes. âcame in for a good nap, but found something better.â he leaned a fraction closer. âyou know, for a teacher, you ask a lot of pointless questions. like âwhat are you doing here?â seems pretty obvious.â
his proximity was overwhelming. âitâs not obvious,â you managed.
âit is to me.â he finally released your shoulders, taking a half-step back that felt no less invasive. he took the book from your soft grasp, glanced at the title, and snorted. âfigures.â he handed it back. âstill living in fairy tales.â he turned and walked away, the sound of his boots on the woody floor echoing in the hushed room.
it kept happening. everywhere. the park, the bakery, even outside the school where you taught. always close enough to unsettle you, always just teasing enough to make it worse. and the worst part was the sick, thrill that shot through you every time you heard that low voice say âlittle bear,â a thrill you refused to acknowledge, buried under irritation and annoyance. jungkook was a problem with a leather jacket and a motorcycle, and he wasnât just disrupting the peaceful rhythm of your village, he was disrupting you. and you had no idea how to make it stop.
. . .
the walk home from the schoolhouse always put you in a good mood. you found yourself smiling for no real reason, your steps light as you followed the familiar path leading to your home. class had gone well, even more wonderful than usual. little mathew, had finally, perfectly pronounced âmerci beaucoupâ after weeks of struggling with his ârâ sounds, and the whole room had erupted when he got it right. you kept replaying his proud grin in your head, along with the small, crumpled hand written âmerci, mademoiselle!â card now tucked safely in your bag.
you opened the front door. âmama, iâm home!â you called, slipping off your boots.
your mother stood by the fireplace, not in her usual comfortable house clothes, but in her favorite floral-print dress, the one she reserved for special visits. a soft cardigan was draped over her shoulders. the air was fragrant with the sweet scent of vanilla and butter.
âthereâs my sunshine!â she beamed, her face crinkling into a smile that mirrored your own. she came over, cupping your cold cheeks in her warm hands. âlook at you, glowing. the children were good today?â
âthe best,â you sighed happily, leaning into her touch. âmathew said the whole phrase! and amirah wrote a little poem. it was wonderful.â you sniffed the air dramatically. âis that your honey butter cake? it smells like heaven.â
âit is,â she said, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead with tender care. âand it just came out of the oven to cool. i was thinking⌠itâs been a few days. we should take a slice over to hae-un. the poor thing must be exhausted from fussing over jungkook. she could use some company and a sweet treat.â
the warmth in your chest dimmed immediately. go to the jeonâs house, now. your first instinct was to say no. to claim you were tired, busy, anything.
but then you looked at your motherâs face, she meant well. mrs. jeon had always been family in everything but name, she was like a second mother to you. youâd spent countless afternoons in her house. to refuse now, to let your silly, personal discomfort with jungkook ruin this⌠it felt horribly wrong, selfish.
the conflict must have shown on your face for a fleeting second, because your motherâs smile softened. âwhat is it, darling? did you have other plans?â
âno, no plans,â you said quickly, your voice a little too bright. you forced your own smile back, pushing the unease down where it couldnât spoil the sweetness of the day. âthatâs a wonderful idea, mama. auntie hae-un loves your cake. let me just put my bag away.â
the jeonâs house looked the same but felt slightly different. the blue door, the familiar smell of tea, the furniture youâd grown up around. but now there were signs of jungkook everywhere. his helmet by the door, a leather jacket tossed over the couch.
âelisa! aigoo, and my sweet girl!â mrs. jeon enveloped you both in a warm hug. she held you at armâs length, her eyes misty. âyou brought light with you. this old house has been too dark and loud lately.â she ushered you into the living room, fussing over the cake, exclaiming over its beauty.
your mother laughed as they settled in. âand where is the cause of all that noise?â she asked, her tone gently teasing. âis our city boy hiding?â
you busied yourself with accepting a cup of tea, focusing intently on the steam rising from the mug.
mrs. jeon waved a hand, a mixture of pride and exasperation on her face. âbah. that boy! he said the quiet was driving him crazy so he went out for a ride on that metal beast of his.â but her affection was clear.
relief loosened something tight in your chest. he wasnât here. you could finally relax. you could actually enjoy this visit. you took a sip of tea, the familiar comfort of the two mothersâ chatter beginning to soothe your nerves. they fell into their easy conversation, talking about the upcoming winter festival, the cake recipe, you momâs new knitting project.
then, mrs. jeon glanced out the window at the grey, woolen sky. âoh, dear god. i just remembered. i left the last of the laundry on the line. jungkookâs things from this morning. if it snows tonight, theyâll be frozen stiff.â
without a second thought, you set your cup down. âiâll get it, auntie. itâll only take a moment.â it was a reflex, as natural as breathing.
both women turned their warm, approving gazes on you. âah, you angel,â mrs. jeon sighed, patting your hand. âwhat would we do without you?â
your mother beamed, pride shining in her eyes. âmy thoughtful baby.â
outside, the air was colder than before. you worked quickly, folding towels and sheets. then you picked up an unfamiliar grey cotton t-shirt, the fabric thin from many washes. it smelled faintly of detergent and something else, something unmistakably male, a clean, musky scent that was all jungkook. a flush crept up your neck. finally, your fingers brushed against black cotton boxer briefs. you snatched your hand back as if burned, a hot wave of embarrassment and annoyance crashing over you. this was so⌠intimate. so wrong. he felt like an intruder to your peace, and now you were handling his underwear.
gritting your teeth, you grabbed the last item with two fingers, hastily adding it to the pile in your arms, wanting nothing more than to be rid of it all.
that was when you heard the motorcycle approaching fast from the main road. you froze, then edged toward the corner of the house without meaning to as the bike pulled into the driveway.
there he was, jungkook, swinging off the bike, removing his helmet. but he wasnât alone.
a woman followed from behind him. you could only see her back; a sleek, dark ponytail, a wool coat and heeled boots that were utterly impractical for the village lanes. she let out a bright, tinkling laugh as she reached out, placing a hand on his leather-clad arm. she said something you couldnât hear, leaning into his space.
you could only see jungkookâs side profile. he wasnât smirking. he looked⌠relaxed. he gave a short nod in response to whatever she said.
something twisted sharply in your chest.
it didnât make any sense, why were you feeling like this? he wasnât yours. you knew exactly what kind of man he was and you hated him anyway, didnât you? but the feeling still hit, sudden and unpleasant. youâd just been handling his laundry, and heâd just been off with her.
you didnât watch any longer. clutching the laundry, you turned and went back inside, closing the door quietly behind you. the cake, the tea, the warmth inside the house all felt kind of distant now.
and no matter how hard you told yourself it shouldnât matter, it still, somehow, did..?
. . .
the cold hit hard as soon as he reached the higher road. it burned his lungs and cut straight through his jacket. this was the only place his head ever really cleared. no noise, no people, just the road and what came next.
fuck, he missed the city. everything about it. his gym, heâd left it with jimin, the only fucker he trusted not to run it into the ground or sell the equipment for coke money. he missed the club nights too, the bass, the easy, nameless women who wanted nothing but a good fuck and understood the rules; no strings attached, no questions, no next morning breakfast bullshit.
here, everything felt watched. his mother noticed everything.heck heâd kill for a smoke. a cigarette would be a minor miracle, heâd have to ride halfway to the next province to get one. his mother would smell it on him from a mile away, have a full-blown heart attack, complete with clutching her chest and calling all her ancestors. it wasnât worth the fucking lecture.
the bike ate up the empty road, carrying him aimlessly. his thoughts, however, kept circling back to the same person. you.
he slowed as he passed the village school just as the final bell rang. the bike idled quietly as he watched from across the road.
there you were. wrapped in a soft, cream sweater, and that long yellow skirt that swirled around your ankles. you were kneeling to tie a kidâs shoe, laughing at something a little girl said. you waved as the kids scattered to their parents, your smile so genuine it was almost painful to look at.
fuck. you were a walking, talking ball of sunshine in this grey, suffocating town.
he wanted to go over there. wanted to see that smile disappear and be replaced by that delicious, flustered pout. wanted to hear you huff his name in that soft, annoyed voice. heâd picture that look sometimes, late at night, but in those fantasies, the pout was for other reasons; his mouth on your neck, his hands on your hips, your eyes rolling back not in annoyance, but in pleasure. the thought alone sent a bolt of heat straight to his dick.
he was just about to roll his bike forward, a taunt already forming on his lips, when a voice sliced through the engineâs rumble.
âjungkook? oh my god, jeon jungkook! is that you?â
he turned his head, already irritated. a woman was hurrying toward him, her heels clicking on the pavement. pretty. sleek dark hair in a low ponytail, a coat that looked expensive.
he didnât know her. or maybe he did. he didnât care enough to remember anyway.
âhi!â she breathed, stopping too close to the bike, her eyes wide as they drank him in, the bike, the tattoos peeking from his collar, the permanent scowl. âitâs me, cynthia! we were in the same year? well, you were a few years ahead, but still!â she talked fast, her gaze raking over him with open appreciation.
jungkook grunted in response. his eyes didnât stay on her. they trailed over her shoulder, back to the school steps. where youâd been. you were gone now, leaving him with this chattering stranger.
his attention snapped back to cynta? only because she was still talking. â...and honestly, these boots were a terrible idea,â she was saying with a practiced laugh, lifting a foot clad in a heeled leather boot. âthe lanes are so slippery! i feel like iâm going to break my ankle.â
jungkookâs gaze dropped to her feet, then dragged slowly back up her body. yeah, the boots were stupid. who the fuck wore that here unless they were trying to get noticed?
she misinterpreted the look entirely. her smile turned coy, and she took a half-step closer, lowering her voice. âmaybe⌠you could give me a ride? it would be a lifesaver.â
he held back a snort. his eyes drifted once more to the now-empty schoolyard. you were the only reason he was even lingering in this part of the village. the only thing that held any interest in this whole fucking trip. a bleak boredom settled over him. what did it matter?
âget on,â he said, his voice flat. it wasnât an offer; it was his way of stopping the need for further conversation.
cynthiaâs face lit up with victory. she let out a little squeal as she swung a leg over the bike behind him, settling in. immediately, her arms wrapped around his waist, tight. too tight. her hands didnât stay still; they slid lower, fingers playing at the waistband of his jeans. she pressed her body against his back, and he could feel the soft shape of her breasts through their layers of clothing.
he didnât shift, didnât even tell her to back off. he simply kicked the bike back to life, and pointed it toward the only destination that made sense, home.
she held on tightly the whole way, pressing against him, talking into his ear over the engine noise. he barely listened. his mind wasnât on her.
after some time, he pulled into the driveway and shut the bike off, the sudden silence ringing in his ears. he didnât move, just waited.
cynthia, laughing breathlessly, as she slid off. âwow, that was⌠so cool,â she said, smoothing her hair. the laugh was bright, but her eyes were dark with intention as she stepped closer. her hand came up, her fingers tracing the hard curve of his bicep through his jacket in a gesture that was anything but casual.
âyou know,â she said, her voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. âi feel like i owe you for the rescue.â her gaze was blatant, hungry. âa girl could think of a few ways to say thank you. just name it.â
the offer hung in the cold air between them. cynthiaâs eyes were wide, pupils dilated. it was a look he knew intimately; the sharp, hungry anticipation of a woman whoâd already decided how the night would end.
his body recognized the opportunity. muscle memory twitched with the ease of it; a rough grip on her hip, steering her into the garage. the usual rythme of a quick, meaningless fuck against the cold wall, her expensive coat shoved out of the way. or maybe better, just her on her knees right here in the gravel, his hand fisted in that perfect ponytail while he stared blankly at the frost on the kitchen window as she chokes on the length of his cock. it would be fast. efficient. a way to bleed off the restless energy this town coiled inside him. she was clearly down for it. and who was he to deny such an offer?
heâd smirk, say something crude and inviting like, âyeah? how âbout you start by getting on your knees, and weâll see how grateful you are.â because heâd done it before. more times than he could count.
but as the words formed in his throat, they tasted like ash. instead of the familiar heat, a cold wave of⌠distaste washed over him.
this wasnât a grimy alley where you could disappear afterward. this was his motherâs driveway. the kitchen light was on; he could see her silhouette moving behind the curtain. a few houses down, old mrs. ahn was probably watching from her parlor window. this was the village square, the same one where heâd get groceries tomorrow, where heâd have to see this stranger again at the market or the winter festival.
he had a fucked-up way to go through life, but one rule was clear: you donât shit where you eat. and for all his complaints, this was still, technically, where he was from.
hooking up with his hometown girls only meant drama, awkward encounters and potential tears on his motherâs doorstep. it was messy. and the only mess he had any interest in navigating is the one that would involve you.
which is why fucking cyndi (or whatever her name was) would be pointless, ugly, and a pain in the ass to deal with later.
so, the smirk that usually came so easily died before it reached his lips. he looked at her eager face and felt nothing but a profound sense of get the fuck away from me.
he gave a single, slow nod. ânah itâs chill,â he said, his voice flat, like a door slamming shut. he didnât say thanks or maybe another time nor did he offer a fake smile. he simply turned his back and walked toward the house, leaving her standing in the cold.
. . .
the final bell rang, and one by one your students pulled on their coats and scarves, filing out of the classroom in a rush of chatter and laughter. you waited until the room was empty before erasing the chalkboard, taking your time, enjoying the quiet that always followed a long day. the late afternoon light came in through the windows, making you feel settled. a little tired, but in a good way.
âmademoiselle!â
you turned at the sound of a familiar voice. jayden stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an easy smile. he was the elder brother of one of your students, matthew, a man with the gentle manners and kind eyes. youâd known him for over a year now, mostly through chance meetings at the bakery after work. sometimes you shared a croissant and talked about his projects or your lesson plans.
âjayden! hello!â you greeted him, your smile soft and genuine.
âhavenât seen much of you lately,â he said, stepping inside. his presence didnât feel intrusive, just calm. âeverything alright?â
you laughed softly. âyeah, everythingâs fine, just a little busy! my momâs got me helping with baking and knitting. with the winter festival and christmas coming up, our house looks like itâs been taken over.â
he chuckled. âi know the feeling. iâve been going crazy trying to carve these wooden snowmen for the festival stall. my workshop is knee-deep in wood shavings.â
before you could reply, little matthew came charging back into the room, his blue coat half-zipped and his cheeks pink from the cold.
âjay!â he shouted, running straight into his brother.
jayden scooped him up effortlessly. âhey, buddy. how was school?â
matthew didnât even pause for breath as he started talking, holding up his hands and counting loudly. âun, deux, trois...â
you watched them with a fond smile. âheâs doing really well,â you said. âhe picks things up quickly.â
jayden looked at you as he adjusted his brother on his hip. âthatâs because of you.â his tone held a note of something softer, a gentle flirtation that sailed right over your innocent, oblivious head.
you simply beamed, accepting the praise as a compliment to your work. âhe makes it easy for me.â
âiâm hungry!â matthew declared.
âdad made your favorite soup,â jayden told him, earning a gleeful âyay!â he then shifted his attention back to you, his voice dropping back to that warm, intentional register. âso, iâll see you later, maybe? we could grab that snack weâve been missing.â
âof course!â you agreed readily. âthat would be lovely! au revoir, matthew! bon appĂŠtit!â
you waved as they left, jayden giving you one last, lingering look. you didnât think much of it, assuming it was just his usual friendliness.
the walk home was quiet, the air was cold enough to sting your lungs when you breathed in, and the sun was already sinking low behind the trees. you were lost in thoughts, replaying the kidsâ proud little faces, when a sudden sound shattered the peace.
you jumped, a small gasp escaping you as a familiar black motorcycle rolled to a stop right in front of you, blocking the narrow lane. your heart hammered against your ribs.
jungkook sat on the bike one foot down, the other resting casually on the peg. he was already smirking, clearly pleased with how much heâd startled you.
âget on,â he said, voice low and steady over the engine. âitâs getting dark. could use a ride, little bear. yeah?â he made it sound like a casual suggestion, but his eyes were anything but casual, they stayed fixed on you, sharp and unreadable.
you looked around the empty lane, then back at him, gathering your composure. you sighed, the sound a soft cloud in the cold air. âno, thank you,â you said politely. âi enjoy walking home.â
his smirk deepened, carving a dimple in his cheek that you refused to find distracting. âenjoy it all you want. but with those little short legs,â his gaze dropped pointedly to your boots, âyou wonât make it home âtil the sun comes up again.â
you looked down at yourself and then back up at him, utterly offended and flustered. âthey are not short? theyâre⌠normal.â
he didnât argue. he just let out a long sigh, the picture of a man burdened by a great duty. âlook, your mom asked me to check on you. said you were late. sheâs worried sick about her only daughter out here in the dark.â he delivered the lie with perfect sincerity, knowing the exact chord it would strike.
your stomach dropped. âwhat?â
mama was worried? the guilt hit immediately, washing over you. you shouldnât have stayed to sketch those frost flowers on the school window pane. youâd caused your mother distress. the thought alone was unbearable.
as jungkook made a show of revving the engine slightly, preparing to leave you to your fate, you panicked. âw- wait!â you called out, your voice soft and laced with concern.
he turned back at you, expression blank. âyeah?â
you looked away, cheeks heating despite the cold, fingers twisting together. âyou⌠you can take me home. i donât want her to worry.â
the triumph that flashed in his eyes was barely concealed. his smirk threatened to split his face. so fucking adorable with your little pout and worried fingers. wordlessly, he reached behind him, pulling out a second, smaller helmet. he shoved it onto your head. it was heavy, too big, and smelled faintly of him. âget on.â
for a moment, you froze. the reality of the situation crashed into you. you were about to get on a motorcycle. with jungkook. the same motorcycle youâd seen that woman clinging to. a strange, hollow feeling twisted in your stomach.
he noticed your hesitation. âwhat now?â he grumbled, though his voice was less sharp than usual.
âi donât⌠i donât know how,â you admitted quietly.
fuck. the words, your shy confession, hit him like a physical blow. he wanted to pull you into his arms right then, to feel how youâd fit against his chest. instead, he swung off the bike. âhere.â
his hands were surprisingly steady as he guided you, his grip firm on your waist as he helped you swing a leg over the seat. you squeaked, wobbling dangerously, and grabbed into his arms without thinking. he was solid beneath your fingers. he climbed back on, settling in front of you.
âhold on,â he commanded, his voice gruff. âtight.â
âno, thank you,â you whispered, your hands gripping the edge of the seat behind you instead.
he didnât argue. he just started the bike and eased it forward slightly.
you let out a small, terrified cry and wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging for dear life. you were pressed flush against his leather jacket, helmet knocking gently against his shoulder blade.
âbetter,â was all he said.
he didnât take you home. you noticed almost right away that the route was wrong. âjungkook, this isnâtââ you started.
he twisted the throttle. the bike surged forward, speed snapping your breath away. a scream was ripped from your throat, pure instinctive fear. but the fear quickly turned into laughter, breathless and surprised. the wind was sharp, the road rushing beneath you, and the only stable thing was the man you were holding onto. for the first time, you understood why he loved this so much. you understood a piece of him.
when he finally slowed and stopped at the cliffâs edge, your ears were ringing. he helped you off, your legs felt unsteady, and your breath coming in shallow. you pulled the helmet off, your hair a mess, and your cheeks flushed. the soft, breathless sounds of your laughter filled the silent space between you.
jungkook swore his heart stopped. it was the softest, most genuine sound heâd ever heard. and he canât believe heâd made that sound happen.
below, the village lights glowed, quiet and distant.
âthe viewâs so beautiful,â you breathed.
âused to come up here when i was a kid,â he said, his voice quieter than youâd ever heard it. âwhen i needed to get away from everyone.â
the words slipped out before you could stop them. âso, when you werenât busy bothering me.â
he glanced at you, a flicker of something (amusement maybe?) in his dark eyes. âjust to break it to you, you were part of the âeveryone.â sometimes even the loudest part.â
âhey!â you protested, turning fully to face him. âi was not loud!â
âyou were. always humming, or talking to yourself about your drawings.â he kicked a loose stone with his boot. âdrove me crazy.â you drove him crazy for other reasons too but you didnât need to know.
you hugged yourself against the creeping cold. âwell, you drove me crazy, too. always bothering me, pulling my hair.â
âyou had those little ribbons,â he said, his smile turning into a faint smirk. âthey were just⌠there. asking to be tugged.â
âthey were not!â you insisted, but you were smiling now too, the old grievance feeling strangely fond in the fading light. âeveryone had those and you only choose mine to tug!â
âyours were more outstanding,â he shrugged but in reality, his younger self had his eyes only set on you to ever notice the other girlsâ ribbons anyway.
you both eventually fell quiet after a while, the easy laughter settling into a comfortable silence. it was a new space between you, one without barbs or tension. you looked back at the view, hugging your arms as a sharp gust of wind cut through your sweater.
he noticed the movement almost immediately. his eyes dropped to your arms, then back to your face. the softness from a second ago vanished, replaced by gruffness. âyouâre shivering.â
âitâs getting a little colder.â you admitted.
âyeah. letâs go.â he turned and walked back to the bike, the moment of shared memory officially over. âcmon, before you freeze.â
the ride back was different. it was slower and deliberate. you kept your arms around his middle, and this time you didnât fight it. it just felt like the right way to stay on. you even let your head rest against the cold leather of his jacket. he didnât speed up or try to scare you, he just drove ahead carefully.
when he dropped you at your gate, you slid off, feeling strangely unmoored. you handed him the helmet, your fingers brushing slightly. âthank you,â you murmured, not quite meeting his eyes. the experience had thrown you. the annoying boy had shown you something beautiful, shared a piece of his world, and had been⌠quiet. it was disorienting.
he took the helmet, his eyes scanning your face, lingering on your flushed cheeks and still-bright eyes. but then, the corner of his mouth tugged up into that arrogant smirk you knew too well.
he leaned in just a fraction, his voice a low. âdonât go wandering off alone in the dark again, little bear.â he said, his voice dropping into a teasing drawl. âmight start thinking you like my company.â
and just like that, the nice moment was over. you huffed, rolling your eyes. âi donât need a ride. and i donât like your company, anyway. youâre annoying.â
he chuckled, a low, knowing sound. his eyes swept over you from head to toe, slow and deliberate, making your face grow warm. âsure you donât,â he said, his voice full of mocking doubt. he swung his leg over the bike. âkeep telling yourself that, little bear.â
and with a loud, unnecessary rev of the engine, he took off down the lane, leaving you standing there.
you stomped your foot in frustration, but you couldnât stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. he was infuriating. but for a few minutes up on that cliff, he hadnât been. and that was the part you couldnât stop thinking about.
. . .
the bakery was packed, especially since it was the day before the winter festival. it was warm, and the air smelled like fresh bread and sugar. you held your number, 42, while mandy tried to see over the crowd.
âwe need more red bean buns,â mandy said. âat least ten. my aunts are coming, and trust me when i say they will eat everything.â
you giggled, the sound soft and warm against the bustling noise. âmandy, we already have two bags full. and the ginger cookies your mom made.â
âcookies are for snacks,â mandy said, very seriously. âthis is for the festival. itâs different.â
finally, your number was called. you left with your arms full of warm paper bags. the cold outside felt sharp after the bakeryâs heat.
âokay, we have the food,â mandy said, adjusting her grip. ânow we just need toââ
you werenât looking, and you walked right into someone coming out of the bakery. you stumbled back, and mandy quickly grabbed your arm to steady you.
âwhoa! you okay?â mandy asked.
âiâm so sorry!â you said quickly, trying to balance the bags. âi wasnât watching whereââ
a sharp voice cut you off. âobviously. canât you look where youâre going?â
your gaze snapped up. standing before you, wrapped in a nice cream coat, was cynthia. when she saw it was you, her face immediately twisted in something like disgust.
âoh,â she said. âitâs you.â
you smiled, happy to see a familiar face. âcynthia! hi! iâm really sorry i was completely distracted.â you let out a soft laugh, gesturing with your chin to the bags. âthe smell in there is just⌠overwhelming.â
cynthia didnât laugh. she looked you up and down, from your messy braid to your winter boots. âof course youâd get distracted by food,â she said, her voice sweet in a way that didnât feel nice.
you just nodded. âit does smell amazing in there. anyway, sorry again. your boots are really pretty. are they new?â
mandy made an annoyed sound next to you.
âyeah and you almost stepped on them,â cynthia said coldly. âtheyâre expensive. you should pay more attention.â
âmaybe you should watch where youâre going, too,â mandy snapped.
you gently squeezed mandyâs arm. âit was my fault, mandy.â you looked back at cynthia. âiâm really sorry. theyâre lovely boots! i think i have a pair thatâs kind of similar.â
cynthia looked at you like youâd said something disgusting. âi doubt that,â she sneered. then she pushed past you and went into the bakery.
you blinked, watching the door swing shut. a faint, confused frown touched your brow.
âwhat a bitch,â mandy said, her face red. âwhy did you apologize to her? she was so rude to you!â
you turned to your friend, the frown melting into a look of gentle concern. you placed a calming hand on her arm. âoh, donât be mad. maybe sheâs just stressed? the festival is tomorrow and heard sheâs helping with the decorations. thatâs a big job!â
mandy just stared at you. âyou are too nice. seriously. someone could punch you, and youâd ask if their hand was okay.â
you laughed. âstop, donât be silly.â you shifted the bags and linked your arm with hers. âcome on, we have more important things to do, our dresses! i finished the embroidery. and i found a ribbon for your hair. we should try everything on tonight, tomorrow is going to be so fun.â
as you talked about the festival, you forgot about cynthiaâs mean look. you were already thinking about the lights and the music and seeing everyone happy. you always believed people were good, even when they werenât. and you never held onto bad feelings.
. . .
the hall was in utter chaos. people were moving tables, hanging banners, everyone talking over each other. jungkook carried two heavy boxes of decorations in one hand like they weighed nothing. with his other hand, he scrolled through his phone.
a message from jimin popped up with a blurry photo from a club, the bass probably so loud that jungkook could almost feel it through the screen. missing this yet? the text read.
jungkook scoffed and typed back a quick fuck off before opening another message. it was from a woman whose name he barely remembered, was it lana? kylie? a picture loaded. it was a mirror selfie, taken in what looked like a fancy bathroom. she was wearing a black lace bra and matching panties. one of her breasts were spilling out, her nipple pinched between her thumb and forefinger, it was already hard and perky.
thinking of you⌠and your big hands on me, the caption said.
he looked at the photo. his eyes moved over the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the arc of her back. it was a nice body, one heâd fucked months ago.
it was supposed to be an invitation, but he supposedly felt nothing.
and just like that he closed the app, shoved the phone in his pocket, and dropped the boxes on the designated table with a loud thud.
âthank you, son!â old mr. henderson said, clapping him on the shoulder. âdonât know what weâd do without those strong arms!â
jungkook just gave a short nod. âneed anything else?â
âwell,â mr. henderson said, pointing across the room. âthe girls are struggling with the lights over the stage. canât reach. could you lend them a hand?â
jungkook looked over. a small group of familiar women were standing on chairs, trying to untangle a string of lights. as he casually walked toward them, their conversation drifted over.
â...saw it myself,â jessica was saying, voice hushed but excited. âhe gave her a ride home last night on his bike. pulled right up to her gate.â
sophia let out a mocking little laugh. âso what? he gave cynthia a ride too the other day. it doesnât mean anything. he probably just feels sorry for her because their moms are friends.â
another girl chimed in. âright! itâs nothing but a pity ride. heâd never actually look twice at someone like her.â
jessica lowered her voice further. âyou know, sometimes i think sheâs not even real, all that sweetness, no one is that nice. sheâs probably just pretending, thinking itâll make her seem interesting.â
âtotally,â sophia agreed. âitâs so fake. like, just stop trying so hard.â
they were so engrossed in their gossip they didnât hear him stop right behind them.
âneed help with those?â jungkookâs voice was flat.
all four girls jumped, letting out little shrieks. sophia almost fell off her chair. they whirled around, their faces flushing deep red, eyes wide with horror.
âj-jungkook!â jessica stammered, her hand flying to her chest. âwe didnâtâ you startled us!â
he just looked at them, his face blank. he didnât look angry or anything, he just seemed⌠unimpressed. like heâd found something mildly distasteful on his bikeâs seat.
âthe lights,â he repeated, not acknowledging their panic. âyou need them hung?â
ây-yes! please!â sophia said, her voice too high. she quickly scrambled off the chair, nearly tripping.
he didnât say another word to them. he just took the string of lights from jessicaâs trembling hands, easily reached up, and hooked them over the beam in two swift motions. the task that had stumped them for twenty minutes took him less than twenty seconds.
he glanced down at the group of them, who were now huddled together, silent and mortified.
âthere,â he simply said. then he turned and walked away, leaving them standing there, the cruel words theyâd just spoken hanging in the air around them, feeling uglier and cheaper by the second.
their whispers were still ringing in his ears. fake. pity ride. no one is that nice.
he felt a hot, unfamiliar anger tightening in his chest. it was about you. those girls. heâd seen you with them just earlier, not even an hour ago, laughing like you were all friends. were you seriously that blind? that naive? did you walk through life actually believing everyone had a heart like yours? it made him furious. the world was a selfish, shitty place. he knew that better than anyone. heâd built his whole life around that fact.
but you. you were the only person heâd ever met who was just⌠genuinely good. it was frustrating. it was infuriating. because you saw the best in everyone. you gave everyone that soft smile, that benefit of the doubt.
everyone except him.
you always looked right at him and saw the worst. you saw the act, the grumpiness, the trouble. and maybe thatâs what pissed him off the most. you were kind to the whole damn village, even to snakes like those girls who talked shit about you behind your back, but with him, you were always ready with an eye-roll, a huff, a scowl.
he hated that you were so stupidly trusting of people who didnât deserve it. and he hated, even more, that you were the only one who ever looked at him and didnât buy his bullshit for a second.
the music started then, a familiar, cheesy folk song that they played every single year. he hated this song. he hated all these songs actually. he remembered standing at these festivals as a teenager, pretending he didnât mind the music, leaning against a wall trying to look cool. heâd pretended to like it back then because heâd seen your face light up when the music started. heâd hoped, stupidly, that you might eventually want to dance, but you never did.
he scanned the crowded hall, his eyes looking for you out of reflex. heâd last seen you by the buffet tables, carefully arranging cookies on a platter.
then he spotted you. you werenât by the food anymore. instead, you were standing near the fireplace, talking to a guy.
jungkookâs gaze sharpened. he knew that guy, heâd seen him sitting at the bar in the village pub a few nights ago, nursing a beer. the guy had been staring at him with a hard, unwelcome glare the whole night. jungkook had noticed but hadnât cared enough to wonder why. just another local who didnât like his look.
now, seeing him leaning close to you, it clicked. the guyâs name was jayden, he was pretty sure. and the dirty looks he sent him made perfect sense now. jayden was definitely into you. of course he was, who wouldnât be? the guy had probably seen him near you, or heard some village gossip, and saw him as competition. he was probably scared he didnât stand a chance.
watching them now, jungkook felt that thought like a punch. jayden was saying something, his whole body turned toward you like you were the only person in the room. and you⌠you laughed. you tipped your head back, and your whole face lit up with that smile jungkook hated how much he noticed. that soft, happy laugh of yours floated across the noise of the hall.
a hot, sharp twist pulled tight in jungkookâs chest. he loved that sound, it was the best thing heâd heard in this whole damn town. and it was being pulled out of you by some guy who carved wood for a living and glared at people in bars.
he started moving toward you without thinking, ready to cut in and put an end to whatever was happening.
âjungkook!â
the voice was bright, sharp. it cut through his focus. he stopped in his tracks and turned.
cynthia was practically gliding toward him, a perfect smile on her lips. she was wearing a tight red dress that had no business being at a village winter festival. she stopped so close he could smell her perfume.
âthere you are,â she said, her voice sugary. âiâve been looking for you.â she didnât wait for a response. âtheyâre about to start the couplesâ snowshoe race. we should partner up. with you strength and my... guidance,â she said, letting the word hang with a little laugh, âweâd win for sure. itâll be so much fun!â
she reached out and put a hand on his arm, her fingers pressing in. her touch was confident, expecting a âyesâ.
jungkook looked from her hand on his jacket back to her expectant face. then his eyes flickered over her shoulder, back to you. you were still talking to that jayden guy, your head tilted as you listened to him. you looked⌠happy. comfortable. a sharp and unpleasant pang hit him right in the ribs. he didnât understand it. he just knew he didnât like seeing it.
he looked back down at cynthia. her offer was simple. a game. a little distraction. no thinking required. maybe thatâs what he needed. maybe if he was out there racing, he wouldnât be in here watching you smile at someone else. he wouldnât have to think about why it bothered him so much.
âwhatever,â he muttered, giving a short, indifferent shrug. âfine.â
cynthiaâs face lit up like sheâd just won a prize. âperfect!â she said, linking her arm through his before he could pull away. âletâs go get ready. weâre so going to win this!â
as she led him toward the door, chattering about the rules of the race, jungkook let himself be pulled along. he focused on the simple task ahead; winning a stupid race. it was easier than thinking about the confusing, tight feeling in his chest, or the way your laugh had sounded from across the room when it wasnât meant for him.
. . .
you were laughing with jayden. heâd been telling you about the wooden snowman he carved for his little cousin.
âso i was trying to make it jolly, you know? with a smile,â jayden said, shaking his head. âbut the knife slipped. now itâs got this permanent grimace. my aunt said it looks more like gargamel than frosty.â
you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your giggle. âoh no! the poor thing.â
âthe poor thing? you mean the poor kid! he took one look at it and hid behind the sofa.â
you laughed again, the sound warm. âiâm sure heâll love it when heâs older. itâll be a funny story.â
jayden smiled, his eyes on your face. âyou always see the good side, donât you?â he reached out then, his fingers gently touching the end of the braid mandy had woven into your hair. âthis is cute, it suits you.â
you felt your cheeks get a little warm. the touch was⌠sudden. not in a weird way, it was nice, just... sudden. âoh, thanks! mandy did it. we wanted to match.â
his hand dropped, but he didnât step back. if anything, he seemed to stand a little closer. his smile turned more serious. âhey, listen, after the festival ends tonight, i was wondering if you wanted toââ
a huge roar of cheering and applause cut him off. it came from outside the main hall doors.
both of you turned to look. jayden looked a little annoyed at the interruption, while you were just curious.
through the open doors, you could see the crowd gathered outside for the couplesâ snowshoe race. and the first thing your eyes spotted was jungkook.
he was crossing the finish line, his long legs eating up the snow. he looked so focused, almost grim. and right behind him, attached to the same rope, was cynthia. she crossed the line a second after him and immediately let out a shriek of victory. she jumped toward him, throwing her arms out.
jungkook turned, and his hands came up to catch her by the waist, steadying her so she didnât fall over in the snow. she was laughing, saying something up at him, her face flushed with victory and cold.
something inside your stomach dropped. it felt heavy and cold.
they were partners. for the couplesâ race. of course they were. cynthia was pretty and fashionable and from the city, just like he was now. it made perfect sense, they probably had a lot in common.
you watched as cynthia kept one hand on his arm, smiling up at him. jungkook gave a short nod, not really smiling back, but he wasnât pushing her away either. they looked⌠so comfortable together. were they dating? maybe thatâs why he gave her a ride that day as you heard from jessica. the thought shouldnât have bothered you, he could date whoever he wanted. he was annoying and rude and he flirted with everyone. it was none of your business.
but the heavy, unsettled feeling in your chest didnât go away. it was only then that you realized youâd stopped smiling.
âlooks like jeon won,â jayden said beside you, his tone flat.
âoh, yeah,â you said softly, forcing your eyes away from the scene outside. âi guess he did.â you tried to find your smile again for jayden, but it felt a little shaky. âsorry, what were you saying before?â
jayden leaned in a bit, his voice dropping so only you could hear. âi was saying⌠after the festival ends tonight, maybe you and i could go somewhere. just the two of us. maybe to the pub, or⌠my place.â he paused, letting the offer hang in the air. his eyes held a certain look you didnât quite grasp. he meant his place. he meant drinks, then maybe moving to the couch, seeing where the night went. heâd liked you for a while, and he thought this was his clear shot.
your mind, however, was still stuck outside. you were seeing jungkookâs hands on cynthiaâs waist, the easy way heâd caught her. you felt flustered and confused by your own reaction to it. so when jayden spoke, you heard the words but not the intention behind them. going somewhere after the festival with a friend? that sounded normal. nice, even.
you gave a small absent minded nod. âsure, that sounds nice,â you said, your voice polite and a little distant.
jaydenâs whole face brightened. he leaned back, a confident, pleased smile spreading across his features.
just then, your mother hurried over, her brow pinched with worry. âsweetheart, have you seen rocky? theyâre saying on the radio a big storm is rolling in fast. we need to get him inside.â
you blinked, your focus snapping back. âoh, no. he was with the kids outside.â
your mother just noticed jayden. âoh hello, jayden. how are your parents, son?â
âtheyâre doing well, thank you, auntie,â he said, ever the polite son.
you were already turning toward the door. âiâll go find him right now, mama.â
you slipped out the main doors into the cold. the party was shifting inside as the first real flakes began to fall, thick and fast. you tried not to look toward the area where the race had been, where you could still hear cynthiaâs bright laughter. you scanned the thinning crowd for a flash of scruffy brown fur.
then your eyes caught little kiki, the bakerâs youngest. she was standing by the empty cookie table, her shoulders hunched and shaking with sobs.
your heart immediately softened. you rushed over and knelt in front of her, ignoring the cold seeping through your skirt. âkiki? angel, whatâs wrong?â
she looked up, her face wet with tears. âi was p-playing with rocky,â she hiccupped. âi⌠i tried to give him my mitten, and i moved too fast. i scared him and he ran away!â
your eyes widened with concern, not blame. âoh, sweetie. itâs okay. where did he go?â
she pointed a trembling finger toward the dark line of trees. âthat way. iâm so sorry, i didnât mean to!â
you pulled her into a quick, warm hug. âitâs not your fault baby, these things happen. iâll go find him, okay? you go inside where itâs warm. we can all play together when i bring him back, yeah?â
kiki sniffled and gave you a wobbly smile, nodding. you wiped a tear from her cheek with your thumb. âgo on, baby. inside.â
you watched her scamper toward the hall doors before you turned to face the treeline. the wind had picked up, howling now, and the snow was coming down in earnest, blurring the shapes of the houses. a deep worry settled in your stomach. rocky was so little, the wind would sound like monsters to him. heâd be so terrified and alone in this.
without another thought, you pulled your coat collar up over your mouth, bowed your head against the blast, and started to run toward the trees. the swirling snow had swallowed you up, and your footprint disappearing almost as soon as you made them.
. . .
jungkook held a beer he wasnât drinking. the noise of the party felt oddly too loud for him. cynthia was still glued to his side, talking about a rooftop bar she went.
â...and the cocktails were, like, twenty dollars each, but the view was totally worth it. you probably know the place, right? itâs exactly your scene.â
he grunted, his eyes moving over the crowd, looking for you. heâd completely lost sight of you after the race. he scanned the groups by the food, the people dancing, the ones sitting by the fire. no sign of your yellow dress or that soft smile.
cynthia kept talking, but he wasnât listening at some point. a cold feeling, different from the storm outside, started to creep into his gut, and he didnât know why.
just then, someone called his name. he looked over and saw mandy, your best friend, pushing through the crowd toward him. he was weirdly relieved to see her.
âjungkook,â she said, ignoring cynthia completely. âhave you seen y/n? i canât find her anywhere.â
his frown deepened, a small knot of tension formed between his shoulders. heâd been unconsciously looking for you for the last ten minutes. âno,â he said, his voice flat. âi havenât.â
the knot tightened. it wasnât like you to just vanish. you were the type to be helping in the kitchen, or talking to the elders, or dancing with the kids. disappearing wasnât in your nature.
cynthia let out a short, mean laugh. âsheâs probably in the kitchen stuffing her face. sheâs always hanging around the food.â
jungkook barely heard her. his mind was clicking through possibilities, each one making the knot pull tighter. maybe you had gone home early? but you wouldnât leave without telling your mom or mandy. maybe you were outside getting some air? but the storm had gone from bad to dangerous in minutes. no one with any sense was out there now. worry began to cut through his usual irritation. something wasnât right.
mandy turned her head slowly toward cynthia, her eyes hard. âmaybe you should go join her. you look like you could use a few good meals.â
cynthia gasped, choking on her own drink. jungkook couldnât help it; a sharp, approving smirk tugged at his lips. he liked your friend.
mandy turned back to him, dismissing cynthia. âif you see her, tell her iâm looking for her, okay?â
jungkook gave her a short nod. âyeah.â
as mandy walked away, the cold feeling in his stomach turned to ice. yeah, something was definitely wrong. he cut cynthia off mid-sentence. âiâm getting another drink.â he didnât even wait for her reply, just walked away, leaving her standing there.
he started moving through the hall, his eyes darting everywhere. he finally spotted jayden by the old stone fireplace, talking with a couple of other guys. jungkook hated the sight of him, but he was the last person heâd seen you with.
as he got closer, their voices cut through the noise.
â...she said yes, man! finally!â jayden was saying, taking a swig of his beer. a smug grin spread across his face. âafter the festival, sheâs all mine.â
one of his friends, a guy jungkook recognized from the hardware store, nudged him. âno way, seriously? you finally scored a date with the fine teacher?â
âmore than a date,â jayden said, lowering his voice but not enough. he leaned in, his tone full of arrogant confidence. âshe agreed to come back to my place. just the two of us, man. tonightâs the night.â
the other guy let out a low whistle and clapped jayden hard on the shoulder. âhell yeah! fucking the prettiest girl in town? i knew youâd wear her down man. have fun, you lucky bastard.â
the words hit jungkook like fucking hard blow, making him stop dead. how dare they talk this low about you. a wave of pure fury washed over him so fast it blinded him for a second. his vision tunneled on jaydenâs grinning face. his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white, hot rage exploded behind his eyes. he took a step forward, his body coiled to launch himself at jayden and break that smug smile right off his chopped face.
but before he could move, a small weight crashed into his legs. he looked down; a little girl had stumbled into him and now sat on the floor, crying.
oh shit. he hated kids. did he just make one cry? he had absolutely no fucking idea what to do. he just crouched down awkwardly, cursing as his big hands hovering near her little shoulders. âhey, uh kid. stop crying. uh, whatâs wrong?â
the little girl, kiki, hiccupped through her tears. âiâm sorry⌠iâ i scared her dog and he ran away. she went to find him but sheâs not back yet!â
jungkook went completely still. âshe? who you talking about, kid?â
âthe nice teacher lady with the yellow dress. she went into the woods to get rocky a long time ago!â
everything else in the room snapped into silence. a cold, sheer terror, sharper than any heâd ever known, shot down his spine and locked his lungs.
you were outside. in the fucking woods. alone.
his little bear; who got flustered when the wind blew too hard, who smiled at everyone, who was too damn sweet and trusting for her own good, was outside in the terrifying storm right at this moment.
the image of you, small and scared in that swallowing whiteness, flashed behind his eyes. it was all he could see. the thought of you cold, lost, hurt, was like a fist squeezing his heart so tight he couldnât breathe.
he jerked upright, so fast that he didnât notice he made the little girl flinch. he was already moving, shoving past bodies, his only target was the heavy doors leading outside.
he hit the doors at a run, bursting into the violent roar of the storm. the cold wind slapped him, the snow blinded him, but he didnât hesitate. he plunged forward, your name a desperate, silent chant in his mind, the only thing that mattered in the entire fucking world.
Summary: Jeon Jungkook has everything from wealth, brains, and the reputation of the perfect heir. But behind all of that, he hides one secret: you.
Warnings: fluff
Word count: 5862 | Status: Completed
a/n: aa im so sorry for the long wait, but as requested, enjoy our fav couple going through pregnancy and parenthood together <3 im also open for requests!! if you want to see any more scenes from jk & y/n, send me a message!
When the doctor confirmed the pregnancy the second time, showing the gestational sac on the monitor, Jungkookâs hand tightened around yours. You felt him, the tension, the fear, the awe, all layered under the surface of a calm and composed-looking Jungkook.Â
Jungkook stayed beside you the entire time. He was observing everything, memorized every instruction, and asked questions about every single thing related to pregnancy.Â
The both of you were in the room for more than an hour, longer than a usual check up would be, but since he owns the hospital apparently they have booked the whole hour for the two of you. It seemed to be useful though, since Jungkook was curious about everything.Â
He didnât say anything in the car on the way home, because he was processing what just happened and what is currently happening in your lives.
You knew that look, you could recognize that he was reorganizing the world, his world, inside his head.
When you reached the penthouse, he carried you from the elevator to the bed even though you protested against it. You were sick, exhausted, overwhelmed, and Jungkook said he wasnât going to take any chances.
That night, he barely slept. You felt Jungkook sitting on the edge of the bed more than once, felt his hand rest lightly on your stomach as if confirming something quietly to himself.
It was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to feel, and you didnât mention it the next morning.
You didnât expect pregnancy to be a strategic operation, but with Jungkook, it became one.
Week 7: He replaced all the pillows in the penthouse with pregnancy-safe ones. You didnât even know there were dangerous pillows for a pregnant woman until Jungkook read one article that said such things existed.
Week 8: He installed purified humidifiers in every room. You barely felt and smelled any change in the air, but if Jungkook knew, you were scared he would try to find ways to reinvent the air. So you stayed quiet.
Week 9: He fired two bodyguards because they didnât react fast enough when an intern bumped into you in the Jeon Retail elevator.
Week 10: He banned seafood from the entire kitchen, which was really sweet of him. Jungkook loves his seafood.
Week 11: He made Taehwan triple-check every restaurant you planned to visit.
At first, it annoyed you, then it comforted you because it is such an honor to have such a loving husband, but then it annoyed you again.
âYou do realize Iâm pregnant, not dying,â you told him one night as he reorganized your prenatal vitamins into labeled containers.
He didnât look up, âYou threw up again yesterday.â
âThat is pretty normal and I checked with my doctor too,â you replied before adding, âIâm fine, Jungkook.â
He turned to you then with a stern look in his eyes, âIâm not willing to gamble on âfine.ââ
You didnât argue with him after that, you were exhausted as you had a long day at work and arguing with Jungkook is the last thing you would want to do.Â
At eleven weeks, your bump had barely started to show, but Jungkook noticed before you did. You were changing into your pajamas when he paused mid step, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
âWhat?â you asked.
He walked closer, knelt in front of you, and pressed his palm to your stomach, âItâs different,â he murmured.
You rolled your eyes, âItâs bloating.â
âItâs not.â
âIt is,â you responded.
He stood up, kissed your forehead once, and said, âyouâre showing.â
And he was right, you saw it the next morning in the mirror.
The ultrasound room was dim, and the only source of light came from the monitor and the small lamp beside the doctorâs desk. You were 27 weeks now, far enough that the babyâs movements were regular and strong.
He sat beside you in the consultation room, and he has never missed any consultation. An old nurse who was attending to you mentioned heâs been one of the most active husbands she has ever seen. You couldnât help but smile at the comment.Â
âAll right,â the doctor said, âLetâs take a look.â
You laid back and Jungkook held your hand. His posture was rigid, not from fear but from focusing on the monitor.Â
âThereâs the head,â the doctor said.
Jungkookâs grip tightened.Â
âAnd the spine, and hereâs the heartbeat.â
The room filled with nothing but the sound of the babyâs heartbeats. Jungkook froze for a moment, the heartbeat always doing something to him that he never could put into words.
The doctor continued taking measurements and Jungkook memorized every number under his breath, his voice was low enough that only you heard it.
Then she paused, eyes looking towards the both of you, âWould you like to know the sex?â
You looked at him. He didnât look away from the screen, but the pressure of his thumb increased slightly, you took that as a yes.Â
âYes,â you answered softly.
The doctor nodded, âCongratulations. Youâre having a girl.â
Jungkook went still, completely still.
You stared at him, searching for anything, relief, joy, or fear, but his expression was unreadable.
âJungkook?â you whispered.
The doctor excused herself to print documents needed to be printed, leaving you two alone for a moment.
âSay something,â you murmured.
He finally looked at you, âA girl,â he said quietly.
You smiled and nodded, âYes.â
He exhaled slowly, like he has been holding his breath for months without realizing.
âShe will look like you,â he said.
You blinked, âYou donât know that.â
âI do,â his voice was filled with certainty, âsheâll have your face, your eyes, and your brain.â
You smiled lightly, âAnd your stubbornness.â
He didnât deny it, which was unusual enough to make you pause. But he lowered his gaze to your stomach.
âShe will be tiny,â he murmured, âtoo tiny for this world.â
Your chest tightened, âShe will have you.â
His jaw flexed, âShe will have us.â
He looked up again at you, âAnd I will not let anything touch her.â
You touched his cheek, âSheâs not even born yet and youâre already overprotective.â
âThat wonât change,â he said.
The doctor returned with the printed documents along with photo scans of your daughter. You thanked her, and Jungkook took the scans and documents from your hand without asking.
He stared at the first image, then the second, then the third where the label GIRL was printed clearly in the corner.
His fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the paper.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly.
âIâm not used to this feeling,â he admitted quietly.
âWhat feeling?â
He looked at the image again, and his voice lowered, âFear.â
âFear of what?â
âShe will be tiny and fragile.â
You shook your head, âShe will be strong.â
âShe will be vulnerable,â Jungkook stated.
âNot with you as a father,â you replied.
He swallowed, âThatâs what scares me.â
You blinked in confusion, âExplain.â
âSheâs going to break my entire life open and I canât let anything hurt her.â
You touched your stomach, âThen you wonât.â
Jungkook was silent for a few seconds before admitting, âI didnât know I wanted a daughter until now.â
âAnd?â
âAnd I want her,â he said, âI want her to be born already.â
You reached for his hand and he gripped yours instantly, âYouâll be a good father,â you said.
âNo,â he said immediately, âIâll be better.â
You laughed softly, âThatâs the same thing.â
He shook his head, âNot to me.â
Later in the car, he didnât turn any music on. He didnât speak for the first five minutes of the drive.
You thought he was overwhelmed again and just as you thought, Jungkook sighed and said, âA daughter will destroy me,â he stopped before adding, âin the best way,â he clarified.
You let out a shaky laugh, but Jungkook continued with a flat tone, âIâll give her everything.â
You smiled, âI had a feeling.â
âAnd Iâll kill anyone who-â
âJungkook,â you called him out before he could finish his sentence.
âIâm just stating facts,â he said calmly.
And you knew he wasnât joking around or just saying it.
He drove the rest of the way home with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped firmly around yours, his thumb brushing your hand now and then like he was memorizing this exact moment.
The penthouse changed with you. Jungkook had the nursery remodeled twice; once because the lighting was âtoo bright,â and the other one because he didnât like the flooring material.Â
âThis is excessive,â you told him one afternoon while sitting on the nursery chair.
He was examining the crib screws with the precision of a businessman trying to invest a huge amount of money in a new business, âNo,â he answered, âit is not.â
You stared at him, âNormal parents donât-â
âIâm not normal.â
You blinked, and let out a small laugh, âYou said that too quickly.â
He crouched in front of you, placed a hand on your knee, and looked up with that calm seriousness only Jungkook had, âI will not let anything happen to you or the child.â
You brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes, âNothing will.â
His jaw clenched, âThatâs not how the world works.â
âDo you trust me?â you asked.
He nodded once.
âThen trust that it will all be okay.â
He exhaled slowly, âIâm trying.â
You smirked at him, teasing him, âYouâre failing.â
âI know.â
But he was trying. At least in Jungkookâs way, he was trying.
You remembered the exact moment when the baby kicked for the first time. You were reading on the couch when it happened, a soft thump surprising enough to make you gasp.
Jungkook looked up instantly at you, âWhat?â
You quickly grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand against your bump.
And there was another kick.
His eyes widened then he froze before saying, âAgain,â he said quietly.
Another kick.
He inhaled sharply, so soft you almost didnât catch it, and bowed his head slightly as if giving thanks to something he didnât believe in, âYouâre doing so well,â he said.
You laughed, âIâm literally just sitting here, lazing around and reading.â
âNo, youâre growing someone. Thatâs not âjust,ââ Jungkook said before kissing your forehead.
It was 2:34 AM when you nudged Jungkook in his sleep.
Once.
Twice.
Jungkook groaned quietly, still half asleep, his arm tightening around your waist on instinct, âWhatâs wrong?â he asked immediately.Â
You hesitated to even say it, it was a ridiculous thing to say at this time in the night. But your craving was so bad, you really needed to eat it.
âI want tiramisu,â you said quietly.
You waited for him to tease you or say something but Jungkook blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling, processing what you just said, âFrom where?â he asked.
You swallowed, âThe Italian fast food restaurant in Gangdong-gu.â
He turned his head slowly to look at you, âThatâs across town,â he stated.
âI know,â you said softly, already feeling guilty, âItâs okay. I donât actually need it. Iâm just having the usual dumb cravings.â
Jungkook was already sitting up.
âJungkook,â you called out to him to stop him.
He pushed the blankets off, reached for his phone, and checked the time, âThey close at 4 AM. I have time,â he said.
Your mouth fell open, âYouâre not serious.â
He stood there, already pulling on sweatpants, âDid you want the regular one or the one with extra cocoa powder?â
You stared at him, stunned, âYouâre insane.â
âYes,â he agreed calmly, grabbing his wallet, âgo back to sleep.â
You grabbed his wrist, âJungkook. Itâs the middle of the night, you donât have to.â
He leaned down and kissed your forehead, âThis is the first time you woke me up because you wanted something,â he said, âthat means this is important.â
âThatâs not how cravings work,â you mumbled.
âThatâs how I work,â Jungkook replied.Â
He was gone before you could argue further.
You didnât sleep. You laid there, half amused, half emotional, just staring at the ceiling while your baby moved lazily inside you like she approved of this entire situation.
Almost an hour later, you could hear the faint sound of the entrance door of the penthouse opening. You heard Jungkook kick his shoes off, the soft rustle of a paper bag, then his footsteps approaching the bedroom.
Once inside the bedroom, Jungkook set the box on your nightstand, âI canât believe there were still people there,â he said in amusement, âI bought three of every flavor they have left; original, matcha, and oreo, just in case.â
You sat up slowly, blinking at the familiar logo on the box, âYou actually went.â
He nodded, âThere was no traffic.â
You laughed, then you felt your eyes tearing up.
Jungkook froze instantly, âHey, hey, why are you crying?â
âThis is stupid,â you sniffed, âyou drove across town at three in the morning for tiramisu.â
He sat on the edge of the bed, opened the box carefully, and picked up a fork, âItâs not stupid,â he said, scooping a perfect bite and holding it out to you, âEat.â
You obeyed, and it was perfect, exactly what you wanted, and exactly what you needed.
Jungkook watched you take another bite, then murmured quietly, almost to himself, âIf this is what it takes to keep you both happy,â he said, âIâll do it every night.â
You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently, âYouâre going to regret saying that.â
He didnât hesitate before saying, âNo, I wonât.â
The final month of pregnancy was brutal in ways you didnât expect.
Your back ached constantly, you couldnât find a comfortable position to sleep, your ankles were swollen, your appetite kept on changing between starving and nonexistent, and your baby kept on kicking like they were in training for a combat sport.
And Jungkook watched every wince like it physically hurt him.
âAre you okay?â
âTired?â
âShould I call the doctor?â
âSit. Donât stand.â
âNo, Iâll carry you.â
âNo, youâre not lifting that.â
âNo, youâre not walking alone.â
It wouldâve annoyed you if he werenât so sincere about it.
At 33 weeks, he banned you from going to work, and your boss agreed before you could argue.
Jungkook was waiting outside the office that day, he didnât tell you he would be there. He just stood by the car, hands in pockets, waiting for you.
When you approached, he opened the door, helped you in, and before you could argue with him about how you couldâve gone home by yourself, Jungkook said, âDonât argue with me.â
And you didnât because you were actually exhausted.
At home, he helped you upstairs, he massaged your calves without being asked. He brought you water and propped pillows behind your back. He also adjusted the AC three times until the temperature felt right to you.
Then he sat beside you on the bed, âHow are you?â he asked.
You shrugged, âHeavy,â you leaned your head against his shoulder, âweâre weeks away, are you ready?â
âYes,â he said without hesitation.
âReally?â
âIâm ready to protect you,â he said, âand Iâm ready to protect our child.â
âThatâs not what I meant,â you responded.
He exhaled, then admitted quietly, âIâm terrified.â
âOf what?â
âOf not being enough. But Iâll learn,â he said simply before adding, âI always learn quickly.â
You smiled at him, âYou will be a good father.â
His jaw flexed, like the words hit him hard. Jungkook kissed your forehead, âWhen she is here,â he said, âIâll show you.â
At 39 weeks, you woke up at 4:27 AM with a pressure so deep it made you exhale in pain. Jungkook was asleep beside you, and you nudged him, âJungkook.â
He woke up instantly, like a switch being flipped, âWhatâs wrong?â
âI think itâs starting,â you said.
He sat up fully, âPain?â
âYes, but not too bad.â
He watched you for a fraction of a second, assessing you, before getting up and within one minute, he had your robe ready, your hospital bag over his shoulder, your slippers in his hand, and your medical file in the other.Â
Jungkook wasnât panicking, he was operating in a mode beyond panic, he was laser focused.
The drive was silent, his hand gripping yours tighter every time you inhaled. You didnât scream or cry, but at the third contraction, you squeezed his hand so tight which made Jungkook drive faster than he already was.Â
Jungkook didnât bother finding a parking spot.
The car stopped directly at the hospital lobby. He was out of the driverâs seat in seconds, already at your side, already helping you into the wheelchair the staff rushed forward with. The car was left where it was, with the keys still inside.
You were escorted through restricted corridors, and straight into a private suite reserved for the Jeon family or the Jeonâs closest friends.Â
Jungkook never let go of you, not when the pain came in waves, not when the hours blurred together.
Jungkook stood at your side the entire time, unnaturally still and frighteningly focused, his attention narrowed to you and the life you were bringing into the world.
You gripped Jungkookâs hand again as the contraction hit harder this time.
âIâm here,â he said, âfocus on breathing.â
âI am,â you snapped.
âYouâre holding your breath.â
You inhaled sharply, âIâm fucking trying.â
âYouâre not trying,â he said, âyouâre visibly panicking.â
âI am not panicking.â
He tilted his head slightly, âThen why are you shaking?â
You opened your mouth to argue, but another contraction crashed through you, stealing the words from your throat. Your fingers clenched around his hand like it was the only solid thing left in the room, and Jungkook didnât flinch.
He stepped closer, bringing his forehead gently against yours, âListen to me,â he said, âin through your nose, and out through your mouth.â
Your breath stuttered, then followed his. âAgain,â he murmured, âwith me.â
âThatâs it,â he said quietly, âyouâre doing exactly what youâre supposed to do.â
You let out a shaky breath, your forehead still pressed to his, âI hate this.â
âI know,â he replied without hesitation, âIâm sorry. Iâll be here with you.â
The doctor entered and checked your dilation.
âSix centimeters,â she said, âvery fast progression, weâre moving quickly.â
Just right after she left, another contraction hit, longer this time. Jungkook stepped closer, bracing himself against the bedframe, his palm against your back.
âLook at me,â he said, âyouâre doing well.â
âI donât feel like Iâm doing well.â
âYou are.â
You exhaled shakily, âCan you just not analyze everything for one second?â
He blinked at you, âIâm not analyzing.â
âYouâre literally calculating my contractions.â
âThatâs not analyzing.â
âThat is analyzing.â
Hours passed and it was finally time for labor.Â
The pain came in relentless waves and time blurred between contractions, instructions, and breathing you barely remembered how to control.
Jungkook never left your side.
He stood through every hour, steady and unyielding, holding your hand, grounding you when your strength wavered. Somewhere between exhaustion and determination, your body took over.
When it was time to push, Jungkook became all focus and control, he helped you through every second. After one final effort, everything broke open.
Your daughter arrived with a sharp cry and just like that, the pain was replaced by the sound that changed your life forever.
Time finally slowed down for you, you didnât see her immediately as the nurses were cleaning and checking her.
But you saw Jungkook, his eyes never left you ever since the two of you arrived in the hospital.
His hand tightened around yours, âYou did it,â he said quietly, like he needed you to hear it more than anyone else.
And in that moment, before anything or anyone else, you were still the center of his world.
He leaned over you, his hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away tears you didnât realise were still there, and then he was kissing you like he was afraid you might disappear if he didnât keep touching you.
âIâm sorry,â he murmured against your lips, âIâm so sorry.â
You frowned weakly, âFor what?â
âFor this,â he said, pressing his forehead to yours, âfor putting you through it, for letting you be in that much pain.â
âYou donât need to be sorry.â
âI do,â he interrupted softly, âI donât ever want to see you like that again,â he whispered, âI donât want to put you in this position ever again, I would take it from you if I could.â
You smiled at him, âI chose this.â
âI know,â he said, as he pulled back just enough to look at you, âyou were incredible,â he said, âstronger than anyone Iâve ever seen.â
And in that moment, surrounded by soft cries of your daughter, Jungkook held you like you were the most precious thing in the room.Â
Because to him, you will always be the most precious thing.
The nurse walked to the other side of the bed and held up your tiny daughter, âHere is your daughter. Would you like to hold her, mom?â
You nodded, unable to trust your voice. The nurse moved carefully, placing your daughter into your arms, she felt warm and tiny, and her cries softened as she settled against your chest.
You looked down, her fingers curled weakly, her face scrunched in protest at the world she just entered, âJeon Seoa,â you whispered her name which you and Jungkook have chosen for her.
Jungkook went completely still beside you.
He hovered at first, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid one wrong move would shatter the moment. His hand rested on your shoulder, then slid down to lightly brush your daughterâs back.
âShe,â he stopped, âsheâs real.â
âShe is,â you said, tearing up.
âHi,â he murmured softly to Seoa, like he didnât want to startle her, âIâm right here.â
âSheâs beautiful,â you whispered.
He nodded once, âShe is.â
âShe looks like you.â
âNo,â he said immediately, âshe looks like both of us.âÂ
âSheâs mine,â Jungkook added, âmine to protect, raise, and to keep safe. And you,â he said softly, âare everything I need to do that right.â
He leaned down, kissed your forehead, ârest,â he said, âIâll take care of you both.â
âWill you hold her?â you whispered.
He hesitated, not because he didnât want to, but because he wanted it too much. He took her gently from your arms, cradling her against his chest.
She settled instantly, and you saw Jungkook closing his eyes. For the second time in his life, Jungkook looked at peace, like the war inside him had ended the second she took her first breath. The first time he felt this way was when you said âI doâ.Â
He looked at you again, âI love you and I love her.â
You smiled through the tears, âI know, fatherhood suits you,â you whispered.
He shook his head faintly, âNo, she suits me, and Iâll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve the both of you.â
Jungkookâs parents and your mother entered the room together, with light footsteps and hushed voices. When they came in, none of them looked towards the bassinet, all three of them looked at you instinctively.Â
Your mom was the first to move. She crossed the room without hesitation and took your hands gently in hers, âYou did so well, Iâm so proud of you.â
Jungkookâs mother stood on your other side, âYou were very incredible,â she whispered. Meanwhile Mr. Jeon bowed his head slightly to you, âThank you,â he said, âfor bringing her into the world safely.â
After a while, your mom turned slowly toward the bassinet, âMay we see her now?â
You smiled and nodded at them.
Jungkook lifted the baby gently and placed her into your motherâs arms, she cradled Seoa carefully, like something sacred, âOh,â she exhaled, âsheâs beautiful.â
Mrs. Jeon leaned in beside her, tearing up, âShe looks just like her mama.âÂ
Jungkookâs father stepped closer, hands behind his back, eyes softening as he studied the tiny face, âShe has strong lungs,â he said quietly, earning a soft laugh from everyone.
Jungkook watched them all, his parents, your mother, his daughter.
And he felt something settled in his chest, he felt certainty.
Jungkook knew Jeon Seoa would grow up deeply and fiercely loved.
The first weeks blurred in a sleep deprived and time didn't exist way.Â
You were discharged after two days. The first night home, the baby cried every 45 minutes. You tried to get up but Jungkook pushed a hand gently but firmly against your shoulder, âIâll go,â he said.
âYou canât,â you muttered, âyou have work.â
âI have a daughter,â he said, already standing up, âwork can wait.â
He moved with surprising competence, which was funny, because probably in the first time of his life, the Jeon Jungkook absolutely did not have it figured out.Â
The first diaper change took ten minutes, and she peed halfway through and he swore under his breath, then apologized to Seoa like she understood.
âDid you just say sorry to a newborn?â you said, laughing weakly.
âYes,â he said flatly.
âShe doesnât know.â
âShe will,â he adjusted the diaper again, âand Iâm not starting our relationship with negligence.â
He brought her back carefully, holding her like she was made of glass. He watched you breastfeed her, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, âIs it painful?â he asked quietly.
âA little,â you said honestly.
His jaw clenched, âI hate that.â
He tried not to hover, but he did, constantly.
If you shifted, he looked. If you winced, he moved. If you sighed, he asked what was wrong.
You snapped at him once on day four, âStop watching me,â you muttered, exhausted, sore, hormonal, with a baby crying in your arms, âyouâre making me nervous.â
And Jungkook adjusted, like he always did, but this time to your postpartum emotions.
âI didnât mean it,â you said the next morning, finding him in the nursery halfway through folding tiny clothes.Â
He didnât look surprised, âI know.â
âI was tired.â
âI know,â he said, nodding.
You stepped closer to him, âYouâre doing well.â
He never believed he would be a good father by instinct, but he took the role the way he took everything in life: he studied, adapted, and executed.
Jungkook watched videos in the middle of the night about burping techniques. He learned how to swaddle tightly enough that she could calm down instantly. He experimented with different rocking rhythms until he found the one that made her eyes close the fastest. Jungkook has also memorized Seoaâs hunger cues, her âIâm overstimulatedâ cry, and her âI just want contactâ whine.
The learning curve was steep, but Jungkook climbed it anyway.
God really took his time creating Jeon Jungkook.
One night, around 3 AM, the babyâs cry cut through the room like a siren, you tried to sit up but lost to Jungkook who was already on his feet, âStay,â Jungkook said.
He picked Seoa up, held her upright, checked her diaper, and mumbled something to her. You watched him walk slowly, with her tiny body tucked under his chin. He was shirtless, his hair was a mess, and his eyes looked tired but focused. He rubbed circles on Seoaâs back and hummed a tune under his breath.
âYou look tired,â you said.
He glanced at the clock, âShe will want to eat in around an hour.â
âYou can sleep, thatâs my job anyway.â
He shook his head, âIâll hold her for now.â
You stared at him, âYou donât have to be awake every time.â
âYes, I do.â
âWhy?â
Jungkook blinked once at you, âBecause you shouldnât be alone,â he said it like it was obvious.
âIâm going back to work in a few months,â you stated.
His eyes flicked to you, âI know.â
âAre you okay with that?â you asked.
Jungkook held your gaze and said, âYou told me that before we got married, that you would always work and earn your own money. And I didnât marry you expecting you to change once we have kids.â
You sighed in relief, âGood.â
âBut weâre not using a nanny,â he added.
You raised an eyebrow, âWe might need one.â
âWe have Taehwan.â
You rolled your eyes, âNot the same, I doubt he has the skills to raise a child.â
He frowned at you, âI donât want a stranger raising her. We can send Taehwan to parenting programs.â
âOr we can find someone credible with experience that we can trust,â you argued.
âThe two of us are good enough.â
You stared at him, âYouâre planning to co-parent through sheer willpower with our corporate scheduling?â
âYes,â he said flatly.
âJungkook.â
âWeâll make it work. Taehwan will be reliable, I promise. Iâll enroll him into parenting programs starting tomorrow.â
You knew better than to push then. Instead, you watched what he did over the next few weeks.
Other than enrolling Taehwan into parenting programs where heâll learn how to raise a child, Jungkook also rearranged his schedule.
He declined unnecessary dinners, he shortened business trips wherever possible, and he had a meeting room next to his office converted into a nursery, so she could be brought in on days you needed to work late.
At three months, Seoa started sleeping slightly longer at night.
At four months, she laughed for the first time.
Jungkook was the one who made her laugh. He was changing her on the bed, telling Seoa about a plan on expanding the Jeon business to Europe, when she suddenly let out an abrupt giggle.
He went still, and you looked up from your laptop, startled. Jungkook stared at her, âDo it again.â
She didnât.
He frowned, âYou think she did it on purpose?â
âShe is four months old,â you said, âno one knows what theyâre doing at four months old.â
He stared another second then, without warning, leaned down and blew against her neck.
Seoa shrieked and giggled again. Jungkook froze, then did it again and by the fourth attempt, she was laughing uncontrollably.
âWhat?â he asked when he noticed you staring at him.
âYouâre ridiculous,â you said.
He corrected you, âShe likes it.â
âYou like it.â
He didnât deny that, either.
At six months, Seoa rolled over.
At seven months, she started reaching for him whenever he walked into the room.
At eight months, she started babbling more consistently.Â
âSay mama,â you tried to teach her one afternoon.
She stared at you, drooling on her chin.
âMama,â you repeated.
âMmm.. ba.â
Jungkook, from the sofa, said, âShe said my name.â
You glared at him, âShe did not say âJungkook.ââ
âShe said âbaâ Thatâs clearly short for âbaba,â which is me.â
Then one night, around nine months in, it happened.
You were in the nursery, half asleep on the chair while Jungkook finished replying to an email on his phone. Seoa was in her crib, fussing but not fully awake.
Jungkook slid his phone into his pocket and walked over. He leaned against the railing, watching her roll from side to side, eyes squeezed shut.
âSleep,â he murmured.Â
She whined softly.
âDonât start,â Jungkook said, âyour mother is exhausted, Iâm exhausted. And you had three naps, thatâs more than both of us combined,â he said to Seoa while pointing a finger at you and himself.Â
Then, Seoa started crying and kicking her legs in the air. Jungkook reached down, and rubbed her cheeks lightly, âCome on stop crying,â he whispered, âdada is here.â
She rolled to one side, her tiny hand grasping the edge of the crib rail, then, in a small and clear voice, she said, âDada.â
Jungkook froze like he had been shot, he stared down at Seoa, âSay it again.â
She blinked up at him, and said it again, more confident this time, âDada.â
You stood up slowly, âDid she just?â
He turned his head toward you, Jungkookâs eyes were glassy with tears, âShe said dada,â he said happily.
You nodded, smiling at him, âShe did.â
He reached down and picked Seoa up, holding her against his chest.
âDada,â she mumbled into his shirt.
He closed his eyes, âIâm done,â he said quietly.
âWith what?â you asked.
âWith pretending anything else matters as much as this,â he said, âeverything else is third.â
You stepped closer to him, âYou know you canât quit being Jeon Jungkook.â
âI wonât,â he responded, âbut I can reorganize everything.â
âAnd whatâs at the top of your list?â
âYou first,â he said, âand Seoa second.â
The shift in your marriage wasnât sudden. It didnât happen in one moment, instead these changes happened across a series of small choices.
Jungkook took meetings from home more often, your daughter sometimes asleep in a sling against his chest while he discussed expansion strategies like nothing about the way he did it was unusual.
Jungkook has missed an industry gala because Seoa had a fever and he refused to leave her side, sitting by her crib for hours straight while you tried to convince him to rest.
You saw the change most clearly one night, when Seoa is now one year old and asleep in her crib, and you found Jungkook standing in the doorway just watching her.
You walked up beside him, âYou okay?â
He nodded, âYes.â
âThen whatâs with the staring?â
He didnât look away, âI like confirming sheâs real.â
You leaned against the frame, âShe says dada more than she says mama.â
âShe should.â
âYouâre insufferable,â you said, rolling your eyes at him.
You were quiet for a moment before asking, âDo you ever miss the time when it was just us?â you asked.
He thought about it for a few minutes, before finally answering, âI miss certain moments,â he said, âbut I donât want to go back.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause back then, I thought loving you was the most terrifying thing Iâd ever do,â he said, âI didnât know it was just training.â
âFor what?â
He looked at you.
âFor this,â he said, âfor loving both of you.â
You laughed quietly.
He stepped behind you, slid his arms around your waist, and rested his chin on your shoulder.
âIâm not less intense,â he said, âIâm just more directed.â
âDirected where?â you questioned him.
âAt you,â he said, âat her, and at making sure the two of you never have to be afraid of anything I can control.â
âDo you realize how extreme you sound?â you laughed softly.
âYes.â
âAnd youâre okay with that?â
He didnât hesitate when he answered, âI am your husband, and I am her dad, extremes are part of the job.â
You turned your head, and kissed his cheek.
âJeon Jungkook,â you said quietly, âyouâre doing well.â
He didnât deflect for once.
He just held you tighter as he kept watching Seoa sleep, and let the world outside the nursery, the Jeon empire, meetings, obligations, expectations, shrink down to the one thing that finally mattered more than any of it:
The tiny girl who calls him, âdada.â
And most importantly, you, the woman who chose him.Â
Summary: Jeon Jungkook has everything from wealth, brains, and the reputation of the perfect heir. But behind all of that, he hides one secret: you.
Warnings: fluff
Word count: 5862 | Status: Completed
a/n: aa im so sorry for the long wait, but as requested, enjoy our fav couple going through pregnancy and parenthood together <3 im also open for requests!! if you want to see any more scenes from jk & y/n, send me a message!
When the doctor confirmed the pregnancy the second time, showing the gestational sac on the monitor, Jungkookâs hand tightened around yours. You felt him, the tension, the fear, the awe, all layered under the surface of a calm and composed-looking Jungkook.Â
Jungkook stayed beside you the entire time. He was observing everything, memorized every instruction, and asked questions about every single thing related to pregnancy.Â
The both of you were in the room for more than an hour, longer than a usual check up would be, but since he owns the hospital apparently they have booked the whole hour for the two of you. It seemed to be useful though, since Jungkook was curious about everything.Â
He didnât say anything in the car on the way home, because he was processing what just happened and what is currently happening in your lives.
You knew that look, you could recognize that he was reorganizing the world, his world, inside his head.
When you reached the penthouse, he carried you from the elevator to the bed even though you protested against it. You were sick, exhausted, overwhelmed, and Jungkook said he wasnât going to take any chances.
That night, he barely slept. You felt Jungkook sitting on the edge of the bed more than once, felt his hand rest lightly on your stomach as if confirming something quietly to himself.
It was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to feel, and you didnât mention it the next morning.
You didnât expect pregnancy to be a strategic operation, but with Jungkook, it became one.
Week 7: He replaced all the pillows in the penthouse with pregnancy-safe ones. You didnât even know there were dangerous pillows for a pregnant woman until Jungkook read one article that said such things existed.
Week 8: He installed purified humidifiers in every room. You barely felt and smelled any change in the air, but if Jungkook knew, you were scared he would try to find ways to reinvent the air. So you stayed quiet.
Week 9: He fired two bodyguards because they didnât react fast enough when an intern bumped into you in the Jeon Retail elevator.
Week 10: He banned seafood from the entire kitchen, which was really sweet of him. Jungkook loves his seafood.
Week 11: He made Taehwan triple-check every restaurant you planned to visit.
At first, it annoyed you, then it comforted you because it is such an honor to have such a loving husband, but then it annoyed you again.
âYou do realize Iâm pregnant, not dying,â you told him one night as he reorganized your prenatal vitamins into labeled containers.
He didnât look up, âYou threw up again yesterday.â
âThat is pretty normal and I checked with my doctor too,â you replied before adding, âIâm fine, Jungkook.â
He turned to you then with a stern look in his eyes, âIâm not willing to gamble on âfine.ââ
You didnât argue with him after that, you were exhausted as you had a long day at work and arguing with Jungkook is the last thing you would want to do.Â
At eleven weeks, your bump had barely started to show, but Jungkook noticed before you did. You were changing into your pajamas when he paused mid step, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
âWhat?â you asked.
He walked closer, knelt in front of you, and pressed his palm to your stomach, âItâs different,â he murmured.
You rolled your eyes, âItâs bloating.â
âItâs not.â
âIt is,â you responded.
He stood up, kissed your forehead once, and said, âyouâre showing.â
And he was right, you saw it the next morning in the mirror.
The ultrasound room was dim, and the only source of light came from the monitor and the small lamp beside the doctorâs desk. You were 27 weeks now, far enough that the babyâs movements were regular and strong.
He sat beside you in the consultation room, and he has never missed any consultation. An old nurse who was attending to you mentioned heâs been one of the most active husbands she has ever seen. You couldnât help but smile at the comment.Â
âAll right,â the doctor said, âLetâs take a look.â
You laid back and Jungkook held your hand. His posture was rigid, not from fear but from focusing on the monitor.Â
âThereâs the head,â the doctor said.
Jungkookâs grip tightened.Â
âAnd the spine, and hereâs the heartbeat.â
The room filled with nothing but the sound of the babyâs heartbeats. Jungkook froze for a moment, the heartbeat always doing something to him that he never could put into words.
The doctor continued taking measurements and Jungkook memorized every number under his breath, his voice was low enough that only you heard it.
Then she paused, eyes looking towards the both of you, âWould you like to know the sex?â
You looked at him. He didnât look away from the screen, but the pressure of his thumb increased slightly, you took that as a yes.Â
âYes,â you answered softly.
The doctor nodded, âCongratulations. Youâre having a girl.â
Jungkook went still, completely still.
You stared at him, searching for anything, relief, joy, or fear, but his expression was unreadable.
âJungkook?â you whispered.
The doctor excused herself to print documents needed to be printed, leaving you two alone for a moment.
âSay something,â you murmured.
He finally looked at you, âA girl,â he said quietly.
You smiled and nodded, âYes.â
He exhaled slowly, like he has been holding his breath for months without realizing.
âShe will look like you,â he said.
You blinked, âYou donât know that.â
âI do,â his voice was filled with certainty, âsheâll have your face, your eyes, and your brain.â
You smiled lightly, âAnd your stubbornness.â
He didnât deny it, which was unusual enough to make you pause. But he lowered his gaze to your stomach.
âShe will be tiny,â he murmured, âtoo tiny for this world.â
Your chest tightened, âShe will have you.â
His jaw flexed, âShe will have us.â
He looked up again at you, âAnd I will not let anything touch her.â
You touched his cheek, âSheâs not even born yet and youâre already overprotective.â
âThat wonât change,â he said.
The doctor returned with the printed documents along with photo scans of your daughter. You thanked her, and Jungkook took the scans and documents from your hand without asking.
He stared at the first image, then the second, then the third where the label GIRL was printed clearly in the corner.
His fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the paper.
âAre you okay?â you asked softly.
âIâm not used to this feeling,â he admitted quietly.
âWhat feeling?â
He looked at the image again, and his voice lowered, âFear.â
âFear of what?â
âShe will be tiny and fragile.â
You shook your head, âShe will be strong.â
âShe will be vulnerable,â Jungkook stated.
âNot with you as a father,â you replied.
He swallowed, âThatâs what scares me.â
You blinked in confusion, âExplain.â
âSheâs going to break my entire life open and I canât let anything hurt her.â
You touched your stomach, âThen you wonât.â
Jungkook was silent for a few seconds before admitting, âI didnât know I wanted a daughter until now.â
âAnd?â
âAnd I want her,â he said, âI want her to be born already.â
You reached for his hand and he gripped yours instantly, âYouâll be a good father,â you said.
âNo,â he said immediately, âIâll be better.â
You laughed softly, âThatâs the same thing.â
He shook his head, âNot to me.â
Later in the car, he didnât turn any music on. He didnât speak for the first five minutes of the drive.
You thought he was overwhelmed again and just as you thought, Jungkook sighed and said, âA daughter will destroy me,â he stopped before adding, âin the best way,â he clarified.
You let out a shaky laugh, but Jungkook continued with a flat tone, âIâll give her everything.â
You smiled, âI had a feeling.â
âAnd Iâll kill anyone who-â
âJungkook,â you called him out before he could finish his sentence.
âIâm just stating facts,â he said calmly.
And you knew he wasnât joking around or just saying it.
He drove the rest of the way home with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped firmly around yours, his thumb brushing your hand now and then like he was memorizing this exact moment.
The penthouse changed with you. Jungkook had the nursery remodeled twice; once because the lighting was âtoo bright,â and the other one because he didnât like the flooring material.Â
âThis is excessive,â you told him one afternoon while sitting on the nursery chair.
He was examining the crib screws with the precision of a businessman trying to invest a huge amount of money in a new business, âNo,â he answered, âit is not.â
You stared at him, âNormal parents donât-â
âIâm not normal.â
You blinked, and let out a small laugh, âYou said that too quickly.â
He crouched in front of you, placed a hand on your knee, and looked up with that calm seriousness only Jungkook had, âI will not let anything happen to you or the child.â
You brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes, âNothing will.â
His jaw clenched, âThatâs not how the world works.â
âDo you trust me?â you asked.
He nodded once.
âThen trust that it will all be okay.â
He exhaled slowly, âIâm trying.â
You smirked at him, teasing him, âYouâre failing.â
âI know.â
But he was trying. At least in Jungkookâs way, he was trying.
You remembered the exact moment when the baby kicked for the first time. You were reading on the couch when it happened, a soft thump surprising enough to make you gasp.
Jungkook looked up instantly at you, âWhat?â
You quickly grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand against your bump.
And there was another kick.
His eyes widened then he froze before saying, âAgain,â he said quietly.
Another kick.
He inhaled sharply, so soft you almost didnât catch it, and bowed his head slightly as if giving thanks to something he didnât believe in, âYouâre doing so well,â he said.
You laughed, âIâm literally just sitting here, lazing around and reading.â
âNo, youâre growing someone. Thatâs not âjust,ââ Jungkook said before kissing your forehead.
It was 2:34 AM when you nudged Jungkook in his sleep.
Once.
Twice.
Jungkook groaned quietly, still half asleep, his arm tightening around your waist on instinct, âWhatâs wrong?â he asked immediately.Â
You hesitated to even say it, it was a ridiculous thing to say at this time in the night. But your craving was so bad, you really needed to eat it.
âI want tiramisu,â you said quietly.
You waited for him to tease you or say something but Jungkook blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling, processing what you just said, âFrom where?â he asked.
You swallowed, âThe Italian fast food restaurant in Gangdong-gu.â
He turned his head slowly to look at you, âThatâs across town,â he stated.
âI know,â you said softly, already feeling guilty, âItâs okay. I donât actually need it. Iâm just having the usual dumb cravings.â
Jungkook was already sitting up.
âJungkook,â you called out to him to stop him.
He pushed the blankets off, reached for his phone, and checked the time, âThey close at 4 AM. I have time,â he said.
Your mouth fell open, âYouâre not serious.â
He stood there, already pulling on sweatpants, âDid you want the regular one or the one with extra cocoa powder?â
You stared at him, stunned, âYouâre insane.â
âYes,â he agreed calmly, grabbing his wallet, âgo back to sleep.â
You grabbed his wrist, âJungkook. Itâs the middle of the night, you donât have to.â
He leaned down and kissed your forehead, âThis is the first time you woke me up because you wanted something,â he said, âthat means this is important.â
âThatâs not how cravings work,â you mumbled.
âThatâs how I work,â Jungkook replied.Â
He was gone before you could argue further.
You didnât sleep. You laid there, half amused, half emotional, just staring at the ceiling while your baby moved lazily inside you like she approved of this entire situation.
Almost an hour later, you could hear the faint sound of the entrance door of the penthouse opening. You heard Jungkook kick his shoes off, the soft rustle of a paper bag, then his footsteps approaching the bedroom.
Once inside the bedroom, Jungkook set the box on your nightstand, âI canât believe there were still people there,â he said in amusement, âI bought three of every flavor they have left; original, matcha, and oreo, just in case.â
You sat up slowly, blinking at the familiar logo on the box, âYou actually went.â
He nodded, âThere was no traffic.â
You laughed, then you felt your eyes tearing up.
Jungkook froze instantly, âHey, hey, why are you crying?â
âThis is stupid,â you sniffed, âyou drove across town at three in the morning for tiramisu.â
He sat on the edge of the bed, opened the box carefully, and picked up a fork, âItâs not stupid,â he said, scooping a perfect bite and holding it out to you, âEat.â
You obeyed, and it was perfect, exactly what you wanted, and exactly what you needed.
Jungkook watched you take another bite, then murmured quietly, almost to himself, âIf this is what it takes to keep you both happy,â he said, âIâll do it every night.â
You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently, âYouâre going to regret saying that.â
He didnât hesitate before saying, âNo, I wonât.â
The final month of pregnancy was brutal in ways you didnât expect.
Your back ached constantly, you couldnât find a comfortable position to sleep, your ankles were swollen, your appetite kept on changing between starving and nonexistent, and your baby kept on kicking like they were in training for a combat sport.
And Jungkook watched every wince like it physically hurt him.
âAre you okay?â
âTired?â
âShould I call the doctor?â
âSit. Donât stand.â
âNo, Iâll carry you.â
âNo, youâre not lifting that.â
âNo, youâre not walking alone.â
It wouldâve annoyed you if he werenât so sincere about it.
At 33 weeks, he banned you from going to work, and your boss agreed before you could argue.
Jungkook was waiting outside the office that day, he didnât tell you he would be there. He just stood by the car, hands in pockets, waiting for you.
When you approached, he opened the door, helped you in, and before you could argue with him about how you couldâve gone home by yourself, Jungkook said, âDonât argue with me.â
And you didnât because you were actually exhausted.
At home, he helped you upstairs, he massaged your calves without being asked. He brought you water and propped pillows behind your back. He also adjusted the AC three times until the temperature felt right to you.
Then he sat beside you on the bed, âHow are you?â he asked.
You shrugged, âHeavy,â you leaned your head against his shoulder, âweâre weeks away, are you ready?â
âYes,â he said without hesitation.
âReally?â
âIâm ready to protect you,â he said, âand Iâm ready to protect our child.â
âThatâs not what I meant,â you responded.
He exhaled, then admitted quietly, âIâm terrified.â
âOf what?â
âOf not being enough. But Iâll learn,â he said simply before adding, âI always learn quickly.â
You smiled at him, âYou will be a good father.â
His jaw flexed, like the words hit him hard. Jungkook kissed your forehead, âWhen she is here,â he said, âIâll show you.â
At 39 weeks, you woke up at 4:27 AM with a pressure so deep it made you exhale in pain. Jungkook was asleep beside you, and you nudged him, âJungkook.â
He woke up instantly, like a switch being flipped, âWhatâs wrong?â
âI think itâs starting,â you said.
He sat up fully, âPain?â
âYes, but not too bad.â
He watched you for a fraction of a second, assessing you, before getting up and within one minute, he had your robe ready, your hospital bag over his shoulder, your slippers in his hand, and your medical file in the other.Â
Jungkook wasnât panicking, he was operating in a mode beyond panic, he was laser focused.
The drive was silent, his hand gripping yours tighter every time you inhaled. You didnât scream or cry, but at the third contraction, you squeezed his hand so tight which made Jungkook drive faster than he already was.Â
Jungkook didnât bother finding a parking spot.
The car stopped directly at the hospital lobby. He was out of the driverâs seat in seconds, already at your side, already helping you into the wheelchair the staff rushed forward with. The car was left where it was, with the keys still inside.
You were escorted through restricted corridors, and straight into a private suite reserved for the Jeon family or the Jeonâs closest friends.Â
Jungkook never let go of you, not when the pain came in waves, not when the hours blurred together.
Jungkook stood at your side the entire time, unnaturally still and frighteningly focused, his attention narrowed to you and the life you were bringing into the world.
You gripped Jungkookâs hand again as the contraction hit harder this time.
âIâm here,â he said, âfocus on breathing.â
âI am,â you snapped.
âYouâre holding your breath.â
You inhaled sharply, âIâm fucking trying.â
âYouâre not trying,â he said, âyouâre visibly panicking.â
âI am not panicking.â
He tilted his head slightly, âThen why are you shaking?â
You opened your mouth to argue, but another contraction crashed through you, stealing the words from your throat. Your fingers clenched around his hand like it was the only solid thing left in the room, and Jungkook didnât flinch.
He stepped closer, bringing his forehead gently against yours, âListen to me,â he said, âin through your nose, and out through your mouth.â
Your breath stuttered, then followed his. âAgain,â he murmured, âwith me.â
âThatâs it,â he said quietly, âyouâre doing exactly what youâre supposed to do.â
You let out a shaky breath, your forehead still pressed to his, âI hate this.â
âI know,â he replied without hesitation, âIâm sorry. Iâll be here with you.â
The doctor entered and checked your dilation.
âSix centimeters,â she said, âvery fast progression, weâre moving quickly.â
Just right after she left, another contraction hit, longer this time. Jungkook stepped closer, bracing himself against the bedframe, his palm against your back.
âLook at me,â he said, âyouâre doing well.â
âI donât feel like Iâm doing well.â
âYou are.â
You exhaled shakily, âCan you just not analyze everything for one second?â
He blinked at you, âIâm not analyzing.â
âYouâre literally calculating my contractions.â
âThatâs not analyzing.â
âThat is analyzing.â
Hours passed and it was finally time for labor.Â
The pain came in relentless waves and time blurred between contractions, instructions, and breathing you barely remembered how to control.
Jungkook never left your side.
He stood through every hour, steady and unyielding, holding your hand, grounding you when your strength wavered. Somewhere between exhaustion and determination, your body took over.
When it was time to push, Jungkook became all focus and control, he helped you through every second. After one final effort, everything broke open.
Your daughter arrived with a sharp cry and just like that, the pain was replaced by the sound that changed your life forever.
Time finally slowed down for you, you didnât see her immediately as the nurses were cleaning and checking her.
But you saw Jungkook, his eyes never left you ever since the two of you arrived in the hospital.
His hand tightened around yours, âYou did it,â he said quietly, like he needed you to hear it more than anyone else.
And in that moment, before anything or anyone else, you were still the center of his world.
He leaned over you, his hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away tears you didnât realise were still there, and then he was kissing you like he was afraid you might disappear if he didnât keep touching you.
âIâm sorry,â he murmured against your lips, âIâm so sorry.â
You frowned weakly, âFor what?â
âFor this,â he said, pressing his forehead to yours, âfor putting you through it, for letting you be in that much pain.â
âYou donât need to be sorry.â
âI do,â he interrupted softly, âI donât ever want to see you like that again,â he whispered, âI donât want to put you in this position ever again, I would take it from you if I could.â
You smiled at him, âI chose this.â
âI know,â he said, as he pulled back just enough to look at you, âyou were incredible,â he said, âstronger than anyone Iâve ever seen.â
And in that moment, surrounded by soft cries of your daughter, Jungkook held you like you were the most precious thing in the room.Â
Because to him, you will always be the most precious thing.
The nurse walked to the other side of the bed and held up your tiny daughter, âHere is your daughter. Would you like to hold her, mom?â
You nodded, unable to trust your voice. The nurse moved carefully, placing your daughter into your arms, she felt warm and tiny, and her cries softened as she settled against your chest.
You looked down, her fingers curled weakly, her face scrunched in protest at the world she just entered, âJeon Seoa,â you whispered her name which you and Jungkook have chosen for her.
Jungkook went completely still beside you.
He hovered at first, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid one wrong move would shatter the moment. His hand rested on your shoulder, then slid down to lightly brush your daughterâs back.
âShe,â he stopped, âsheâs real.â
âShe is,â you said, tearing up.
âHi,â he murmured softly to Seoa, like he didnât want to startle her, âIâm right here.â
âSheâs beautiful,â you whispered.
He nodded once, âShe is.â
âShe looks like you.â
âNo,â he said immediately, âshe looks like both of us.âÂ
âSheâs mine,â Jungkook added, âmine to protect, raise, and to keep safe. And you,â he said softly, âare everything I need to do that right.â
He leaned down, kissed your forehead, ârest,â he said, âIâll take care of you both.â
âWill you hold her?â you whispered.
He hesitated, not because he didnât want to, but because he wanted it too much. He took her gently from your arms, cradling her against his chest.
She settled instantly, and you saw Jungkook closing his eyes. For the second time in his life, Jungkook looked at peace, like the war inside him had ended the second she took her first breath. The first time he felt this way was when you said âI doâ.Â
He looked at you again, âI love you and I love her.â
You smiled through the tears, âI know, fatherhood suits you,â you whispered.
He shook his head faintly, âNo, she suits me, and Iâll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve the both of you.â
Jungkookâs parents and your mother entered the room together, with light footsteps and hushed voices. When they came in, none of them looked towards the bassinet, all three of them looked at you instinctively.Â
Your mom was the first to move. She crossed the room without hesitation and took your hands gently in hers, âYou did so well, Iâm so proud of you.â
Jungkookâs mother stood on your other side, âYou were very incredible,â she whispered. Meanwhile Mr. Jeon bowed his head slightly to you, âThank you,â he said, âfor bringing her into the world safely.â
After a while, your mom turned slowly toward the bassinet, âMay we see her now?â
You smiled and nodded at them.
Jungkook lifted the baby gently and placed her into your motherâs arms, she cradled Seoa carefully, like something sacred, âOh,â she exhaled, âsheâs beautiful.â
Mrs. Jeon leaned in beside her, tearing up, âShe looks just like her mama.âÂ
Jungkookâs father stepped closer, hands behind his back, eyes softening as he studied the tiny face, âShe has strong lungs,â he said quietly, earning a soft laugh from everyone.
Jungkook watched them all, his parents, your mother, his daughter.
And he felt something settled in his chest, he felt certainty.
Jungkook knew Jeon Seoa would grow up deeply and fiercely loved.
The first weeks blurred in a sleep deprived and time didn't exist way.Â
You were discharged after two days. The first night home, the baby cried every 45 minutes. You tried to get up but Jungkook pushed a hand gently but firmly against your shoulder, âIâll go,â he said.
âYou canât,â you muttered, âyou have work.â
âI have a daughter,â he said, already standing up, âwork can wait.â
He moved with surprising competence, which was funny, because probably in the first time of his life, the Jeon Jungkook absolutely did not have it figured out.Â
The first diaper change took ten minutes, and she peed halfway through and he swore under his breath, then apologized to Seoa like she understood.
âDid you just say sorry to a newborn?â you said, laughing weakly.
âYes,â he said flatly.
âShe doesnât know.â
âShe will,â he adjusted the diaper again, âand Iâm not starting our relationship with negligence.â
He brought her back carefully, holding her like she was made of glass. He watched you breastfeed her, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, âIs it painful?â he asked quietly.
âA little,â you said honestly.
His jaw clenched, âI hate that.â
He tried not to hover, but he did, constantly.
If you shifted, he looked. If you winced, he moved. If you sighed, he asked what was wrong.
You snapped at him once on day four, âStop watching me,â you muttered, exhausted, sore, hormonal, with a baby crying in your arms, âyouâre making me nervous.â
And Jungkook adjusted, like he always did, but this time to your postpartum emotions.
âI didnât mean it,â you said the next morning, finding him in the nursery halfway through folding tiny clothes.Â
He didnât look surprised, âI know.â
âI was tired.â
âI know,â he said, nodding.
You stepped closer to him, âYouâre doing well.â
He never believed he would be a good father by instinct, but he took the role the way he took everything in life: he studied, adapted, and executed.
Jungkook watched videos in the middle of the night about burping techniques. He learned how to swaddle tightly enough that she could calm down instantly. He experimented with different rocking rhythms until he found the one that made her eyes close the fastest. Jungkook has also memorized Seoaâs hunger cues, her âIâm overstimulatedâ cry, and her âI just want contactâ whine.
The learning curve was steep, but Jungkook climbed it anyway.
God really took his time creating Jeon Jungkook.
One night, around 3 AM, the babyâs cry cut through the room like a siren, you tried to sit up but lost to Jungkook who was already on his feet, âStay,â Jungkook said.
He picked Seoa up, held her upright, checked her diaper, and mumbled something to her. You watched him walk slowly, with her tiny body tucked under his chin. He was shirtless, his hair was a mess, and his eyes looked tired but focused. He rubbed circles on Seoaâs back and hummed a tune under his breath.
âYou look tired,â you said.
He glanced at the clock, âShe will want to eat in around an hour.â
âYou can sleep, thatâs my job anyway.â
He shook his head, âIâll hold her for now.â
You stared at him, âYou donât have to be awake every time.â
âYes, I do.â
âWhy?â
Jungkook blinked once at you, âBecause you shouldnât be alone,â he said it like it was obvious.
âIâm going back to work in a few months,â you stated.
His eyes flicked to you, âI know.â
âAre you okay with that?â you asked.
Jungkook held your gaze and said, âYou told me that before we got married, that you would always work and earn your own money. And I didnât marry you expecting you to change once we have kids.â
You sighed in relief, âGood.â
âBut weâre not using a nanny,â he added.
You raised an eyebrow, âWe might need one.â
âWe have Taehwan.â
You rolled your eyes, âNot the same, I doubt he has the skills to raise a child.â
He frowned at you, âI donât want a stranger raising her. We can send Taehwan to parenting programs.â
âOr we can find someone credible with experience that we can trust,â you argued.
âThe two of us are good enough.â
You stared at him, âYouâre planning to co-parent through sheer willpower with our corporate scheduling?â
âYes,â he said flatly.
âJungkook.â
âWeâll make it work. Taehwan will be reliable, I promise. Iâll enroll him into parenting programs starting tomorrow.â
You knew better than to push then. Instead, you watched what he did over the next few weeks.
Other than enrolling Taehwan into parenting programs where heâll learn how to raise a child, Jungkook also rearranged his schedule.
He declined unnecessary dinners, he shortened business trips wherever possible, and he had a meeting room next to his office converted into a nursery, so she could be brought in on days you needed to work late.
At three months, Seoa started sleeping slightly longer at night.
At four months, she laughed for the first time.
Jungkook was the one who made her laugh. He was changing her on the bed, telling Seoa about a plan on expanding the Jeon business to Europe, when she suddenly let out an abrupt giggle.
He went still, and you looked up from your laptop, startled. Jungkook stared at her, âDo it again.â
She didnât.
He frowned, âYou think she did it on purpose?â
âShe is four months old,â you said, âno one knows what theyâre doing at four months old.â
He stared another second then, without warning, leaned down and blew against her neck.
Seoa shrieked and giggled again. Jungkook froze, then did it again and by the fourth attempt, she was laughing uncontrollably.
âWhat?â he asked when he noticed you staring at him.
âYouâre ridiculous,â you said.
He corrected you, âShe likes it.â
âYou like it.â
He didnât deny that, either.
At six months, Seoa rolled over.
At seven months, she started reaching for him whenever he walked into the room.
At eight months, she started babbling more consistently.Â
âSay mama,â you tried to teach her one afternoon.
She stared at you, drooling on her chin.
âMama,â you repeated.
âMmm.. ba.â
Jungkook, from the sofa, said, âShe said my name.â
You glared at him, âShe did not say âJungkook.ââ
âShe said âbaâ Thatâs clearly short for âbaba,â which is me.â
Then one night, around nine months in, it happened.
You were in the nursery, half asleep on the chair while Jungkook finished replying to an email on his phone. Seoa was in her crib, fussing but not fully awake.
Jungkook slid his phone into his pocket and walked over. He leaned against the railing, watching her roll from side to side, eyes squeezed shut.
âSleep,â he murmured.Â
She whined softly.
âDonât start,â Jungkook said, âyour mother is exhausted, Iâm exhausted. And you had three naps, thatâs more than both of us combined,â he said to Seoa while pointing a finger at you and himself.Â
Then, Seoa started crying and kicking her legs in the air. Jungkook reached down, and rubbed her cheeks lightly, âCome on stop crying,â he whispered, âdada is here.â
She rolled to one side, her tiny hand grasping the edge of the crib rail, then, in a small and clear voice, she said, âDada.â
Jungkook froze like he had been shot, he stared down at Seoa, âSay it again.â
She blinked up at him, and said it again, more confident this time, âDada.â
You stood up slowly, âDid she just?â
He turned his head toward you, Jungkookâs eyes were glassy with tears, âShe said dada,â he said happily.
You nodded, smiling at him, âShe did.â
He reached down and picked Seoa up, holding her against his chest.
âDada,â she mumbled into his shirt.
He closed his eyes, âIâm done,â he said quietly.
âWith what?â you asked.
âWith pretending anything else matters as much as this,â he said, âeverything else is third.â
You stepped closer to him, âYou know you canât quit being Jeon Jungkook.â
âI wonât,â he responded, âbut I can reorganize everything.â
âAnd whatâs at the top of your list?â
âYou first,â he said, âand Seoa second.â
The shift in your marriage wasnât sudden. It didnât happen in one moment, instead these changes happened across a series of small choices.
Jungkook took meetings from home more often, your daughter sometimes asleep in a sling against his chest while he discussed expansion strategies like nothing about the way he did it was unusual.
Jungkook has missed an industry gala because Seoa had a fever and he refused to leave her side, sitting by her crib for hours straight while you tried to convince him to rest.
You saw the change most clearly one night, when Seoa is now one year old and asleep in her crib, and you found Jungkook standing in the doorway just watching her.
You walked up beside him, âYou okay?â
He nodded, âYes.â
âThen whatâs with the staring?â
He didnât look away, âI like confirming sheâs real.â
You leaned against the frame, âShe says dada more than she says mama.â
âShe should.â
âYouâre insufferable,â you said, rolling your eyes at him.
You were quiet for a moment before asking, âDo you ever miss the time when it was just us?â you asked.
He thought about it for a few minutes, before finally answering, âI miss certain moments,â he said, âbut I donât want to go back.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause back then, I thought loving you was the most terrifying thing Iâd ever do,â he said, âI didnât know it was just training.â
âFor what?â
He looked at you.
âFor this,â he said, âfor loving both of you.â
You laughed quietly.
He stepped behind you, slid his arms around your waist, and rested his chin on your shoulder.
âIâm not less intense,â he said, âIâm just more directed.â
âDirected where?â you questioned him.
âAt you,â he said, âat her, and at making sure the two of you never have to be afraid of anything I can control.â
âDo you realize how extreme you sound?â you laughed softly.
âYes.â
âAnd youâre okay with that?â
He didnât hesitate when he answered, âI am your husband, and I am her dad, extremes are part of the job.â
You turned your head, and kissed his cheek.
âJeon Jungkook,â you said quietly, âyouâre doing well.â
He didnât deflect for once.
He just held you tighter as he kept watching Seoa sleep, and let the world outside the nursery, the Jeon empire, meetings, obligations, expectations, shrink down to the one thing that finally mattered more than any of it:
The tiny girl who calls him, âdada.â
And most importantly, you, the woman who chose him.Â
hey guys how r u hope u have a good day!! i want to continue to write the chapter 4 but i am not getting any interest and getting stuck while writing đŤ so i want to write your requests! you guys can ask me to write anything đâ¨đ
pairing: managing partner/lawyer!jungkook x spoiled brat!reader ft. yoongi
genre: strangers/lowkey one sided enemies to ?? idk bec you irk him, angst, smut, like slight fluff, infidelity au (jungkook has a girlfriend aand it's not you yet?)
wc: 13.9k
warnings: this is a series! so please visit the killlah (jjk) [series masterlist] for a tiny summary and some extra info :3 noowww, in this chapter, you can expect: major oc crashout, mention of the b word, minor hyewon crashout, emotional cheating, mention of light smut, some slut shaming. oh and namjoon calls oc 'doll.' (deal.)
!!extra disclaimer!! you've got to excuse me once again because i'm tagging this as unedited! i haven't read the chapter one go yet, but i've read all the sections separately multiple tiems and i am just, so,so lazy,,,nnghmffgh it has been edited! the word count has bumped up to 13.9k from 13.3k...
Once again, Jungkook finds himself in a situation where he feels like he needs to apologise to you.Â
This time though, he has mixed feelings about it. And those thoughts had to be put on pause for now.
Undoing the silky makeshift blindfold from his girlfriendâs eyes, he gently pulls out of Hyewon, earning a hiss from her.Â
He pulled the condom off, tying it at the opening and tossed it in the bin with ease.Â
He was tucking himself back in when he heard Hyewonâs shy call, âKook...â - âMhm?â Jungkook walked back to her, caressing her hip as she rested in the same position for a few seconds, regaining her composure.Â
âI love youâŚâ Hyewon smiles bashfully.Â
He hums, smirking at her through the mirror. âI know you do.âÂ
She giggles then playfully frowns at him. Hyewon always liked to hear it back.Â
Words of affirmation was her love language. He liked to have fun with her and withhold it sometimes though.Â
Jungkook learnt very early on that Hyewon needed to hear him tell her he loved her.Â
By no means was she insecure, but she needed this little thing from him.
At this point in their relationship, it had simply become routine to utter those three magic words. Especially after sex.Â
And Jungkook never remembered struggling with that unspoken rule. He was always happy to follow it.Â
Until today, that is.Â
Although he was able to disguise it as just teasing, the words physically wouldnât leave his lips.Â
Jungkook tugged a few paper towels out of the dispenser and wet it.Â
âStay there,â he directed Hyewon to hold her pose as he squatted to clean her up.Â
Pushing her dress back up, he wipes off her slick.Â
Hyewon winced at the sensation.Â
Jungkook paused, âSensitive?â
âCold.â She shook her head, âBut itâs fine, I need to use the restroom anyway.â Â
He nodded understandingly, continuing to clean her up.Â
When heâs done, Hyewon straightens up and limps to the little washroom attached to the powder room. âBabe, you should leave first, I donât want people suspecting anything.âÂ
âYou sure?â Jungkook asks as he lathers his hands with sandalwood hand soap.
âYeah, go on. Iâll have to retouch my makeup. Itâll be a while.â Hyewon assures him.
âAlright. Iâve gotta give Joon his tie back anyway.âÂ
Petrified, Hyewon calls out to him, âBabe!â - âWhat?â Jungkookâs confused.Â
âYou canât return that now! We used it.â Her voice lowers on âused.â
Jungkook furrows his brows, âItâs part of his four piece set. He needs to send it to the dry cleanerâs together, Won. Itâs no biggie.âÂ
âBu-â - Jungkook doesnât wait for her, âIâm gonna go find Joon now. Donât take too long!â
Before exiting the room, he stops by the same velvet wall you had clutched.Â
You had looked like you were about to burst into tears.Â
Had he been too insensitive? Or could you only dish it out but not take it?
In all honesty, Jungkook thought you deserved it. I mean, for fuckâs sake, heâs walked in on you and Namjoon before. And that too in his place of work! And not to mention all the bullshit you pulled earlier just today.Â
Shamelessly flirting with him, but then kissing and flirting with Namjoon.Â
Not to mention Min Yoongi. Jungkook found it odd for Yoongi and you to get along so soon.Â
And for you to call Yoongi âMr. Min?âÂ
That did it for him. He understood you were this way with everyone. âMr. Jeonâ wasnât a little secret nickname for just him.Â
Jungkook wasnât fucking special. He deluded himself into thinking he meant more to you. It pissed him off. He had to get away from you immediately.Â
And if that wasnât enough, you and Yoongi were getting along really well - dancing, clinging on to each other, becoming drinking buddies - it was weird. Neither of you seemed like each otherâs types. Nor were either of you that friendly with just anyone. Hyewonâs living proof of it. His girlfriend seemed to want to get closer to you so bad but you were always dismissive of her.
How could he ever think of entertaining you?
So, just like that, he grabbed his girlfriend and fucked off to an empty corner of the hall.Â
And the outcome was⌠you witnessing it. Jungkook wouldâve counted it as a win for him had you not looked at him the way you did.
Namjoon had no idea what had gone down in the ten minutes when you walked off to some obscure corner of the hall and returned with tears streaming down your face. You were bawling uncontrollably.Â
He couldn't get a word in when you only continuously chant âI don't like it.âÂ
The man felt utterly guilty for leaving you to fend for yourself half of the night. You were his date after all.Â
Witnessing you break down like that, his mind went to the worst places.Â
When heâs unable to calm you down with words, he pulls you in a comforting hug, smushing your teary face against his chest. âYouâre okay, doll. Youâre fineâŚâ Namjoon whispered repeatedly in your ear, rapidly rubbing your back.Â
The scene was drawing a lot of attention. No doubt, this would be the second most talked about event at the Eirene this year. Thankfully only half of the crowd stayed so long to have witnessed your crashout.
Seokjin, too, momentarily pulled away from his âhost dutiesâ to check up on you. He brought you orange juice and a few pieces of toast in case you needed sobering up.Â
After a good few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing and hiccups, you finally settle into Namjoonâs embrace. You still struggled to stabilize your breathing, whimpering from time to time.Â
You hate them.
That nasty image was burnt into the back of your eyelids.Â
Every time you shut your eyes, you could picture Jungkook ramming into Hyewon from the back. Him smirking at you. It played in your mind in a loop.
Youâre fish. Jungkook was dangling bait in front of you, but it felt so out of reach.Â
Your drunkenness made it harder for you to control yourself. The only way you could express yourself was through your tears.Â
These tears werenât out of sadness though.Â
It was purely frustration. Well, frustration mixed with silly drunken emotions.Â
Just when Namjoon and Seokjin walked you back to the table, you spotted Jungkook emerging from the corner, stopping only a few steps away.Â
No Hyewon in sight.
This jerk better not try to talk to you. He better not even breathe in your direction.Â
â_____, say ahhh.â Seokjin attempts to force-feed you some bread. You scowl at him, eyes still wet with tears.Â
No doubt, your entire face was ruined and red now. Certainly not in the way you wanted.Â
Jungkook cautiously watched on as Namjoon cleaned your cheeks and nose.Â
His heart raced. You were a pretty crier.
When you caught another glimpse of him, you glared hard.Â
Oh. Kittyâs got claws.
Though he clearly overestimated you, he still thinks youâre overreacting.
There was another thought swimming around the back of his mind. Have you told them what you saw? And at the off chance you had, how the hell was he going to explain this to anyone? How was he going to explain this to Hyewon? He couldnât let this affect her negatively.
Lucky for him, you werenât a gossip, but thatâs not why you chose to keep this to yourself. Youâd absolutely be up to tattle had you not humiliated yourself by sobbing and breaking down so publicly.Â
Obviously, you werenât about to reveal to people that watching your stupid crush fuck his annoying girlfriend terrorized you to the point of tears. You have a reputation to keep up around here; one that you swore you didnât care about.Â
This would be scandalous for everyone involved. Itâd just hurt more people, not that you care about hurting Hyewon or Jungkook. Theyâd have brought it upon themselves.Â
However, you arenât too proud to admit that you were extremely jealous of Hyewon.
Admitting this to yourself (and to Somin later tonight) is a big step. But you refuse to dig any deeper than that.
ĘđšÉ
Right around the time you begin to actually lax and reassure Namjoon and Seokjin nothing funny happened to you, Jungkook finally approaches the table. Â
Instead of taking his original seat next to you, he saunters to the opposite side.Â
Pussy.Â
Jungkook would argue he was giving you much needed space. And he didnât need to rub it in your face anymore by presenting Joon with his tie right now.Â
Jungkook discreetly stuffed the silky piece of clothing into his coat pocket as he watched you get coddled by grown men.Â
Instinctively, he wants to join in. Technically, heâs the reason you were in this almost inconsolable state. So, it should be him looking after your every need.Â
In his defence, he really thought youâd handle it like a champ. Not⌠reduce into tears.Â
Then the guilt begins to set in; the guilt of using his girlfriend to get a reaction out of you, of making you feel this way, of making his hyung worry about you.
It weighed on him, making him doubt all the choices he made in the last twenty minutes.
Should he check on you? Jungkook thinks giving you space would be better for you. And easier for him.Â
Just when he was about to leave the table to get a bottle of water, his girlfriend joins him.
Hyewon rests her palm on his shoulder, distracted by the sight of you.
She keeps her eyes on you who looked like you were recovering from something.
She sends Jungkook a questioning look, mouthing âWhat happened?â to which Jungkook just shook his head.Â
Ever so curious, she couldnât stop herself. â_____, are you okay?âÂ
When Hyewonâs stupid voice floods your ears, you're instantly taken back to ten minutes ago... When she was a moaning mess under Jungkook.Â
Why was this woman out to get you?
You refuse to acknowledge her and pretend not to hear.
Even though she was loud enough that everyone at the table heard her.
So Hyewon tries again, â___-âÂ
âOh, my goodness, take a hint!â You snap at Hyewon.Â
The table just kind of⌠stills.
Jungkook looked taken aback.
âOh,â Hyewon whispers weakly, blinking as though sheâs been slapped, looking around at the other patrons to see if anyone saw her get yelled at.
Still, she tries to defend herself, âNo, I just wanted to make sure youâre-â - âCan you just not?â You cut her off, having had enough of her âconcern.â
âYouâve done enoughâŚâ You whisper the last part, not loud enough for everyone to hear but Hyewon catches on to it anyway. So does everyone else near you.Â
Hyewonâs lips part, ready to ask what that meant, but Jungkook gently catches her wrist on top of the table, whispering something that sounded like âlet it go.â
Yeah, bitch, listen to your fucking boyfriend. You grind your teeth together at the display.
Theyâve got to stop rubbing this in your face. You could probably get that clown kicked off of the face of the Earth if you wanted.
She glances at him, searching his face for answers, then back at you. Finally sighing, she brushes you off, âOkay, Iâm sorry.âÂ
You roll your eyes at the apology. She just has to be the goodie-goodie. Hyewon just has to shove it in everyone's faces that sheâs the innocent little fawn whoâs getting bullied by the big fat tigress.Â
You glare in her direction one last time.Â
To her right, you notice Jungkook looking unhappy. Thereâs a tiny little wrinkle forming on his forehead and he looks like heâs biting at his lip ring.Â
Jeon Jungkook was actually pissed off?
At you?Â
Please.
You find that really funny. Both literally and⌠not literally? It genuinely makes you laugh ha-ha that heâs angry at you but also, you arenât ha-ha laughing because you think he has no right to be mad (and at you of all people.)Â
Still, you wanted to fuck the shit out of him.
You are actively fighting thoughts of throwing Hyewon off her chair and mounting her boyfriend. Pushing his face in your ample bosom as you dry hump him in front of the entire hall.
And maybe heâd be as rough as he was with his stupid girlfriendâŚ
Now that broke your lustful daydreaming.
ĘđšÉ
After an awkward few minutes, Hyewon, throwing on an obviously fake smile, announces to everyone that she and Jungkook were about to call it a night.
Seokjin smiles at Hyewon, attempting to make up for your⌠unpleasant attitude. âWeâre glad you came, Hyewon-ssi.â
She nods, returning the pleasantries.
Then she turns to Namjoon, reaching an arm out, âGood night, Joonie. Congratulations again.â
Namjoon rises halfway from his seat to hug her back, âThank you, Hyewon. Get some rest, yeah?â
She smiles and nods before facing you. Her smile falters just a little when she sees that youâre still scrolling through your phone. Namjoon nudges you but you refuse to cooperate.
âRight,â She murmurs, mostly to herself.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she announces again, âWeâre gonna say bye to the others.â She directs it at Jungkook.Â
âSure, babe. Iâll be right behind you.â He complies, stuffing his hands in his pockets.Â
âAllow me to escort you?â Seokjin offers kindly, making Hyewon swoon.
She had been a little starstruck despite whatever just went down with you. It's not everyday that you got Kim Seokjin's attention.
As Hyewon glides away with your step father, Jungkook waits until theyâre out of earshot before fishing something from the pocket of his suit jacket.Â
He twirls it loosely around his finger before dropping it on the table in front of you and Namjoon.
âThought Iâd return this now before I forget.â He clears his throat.Â
Discreetly, you eye the black object.Â
Namjoon frowns, picking it up. âMy tie?âÂ
What the fuck.Â
Your neck snaps towards him before you can stop yourself.Â
Jungkookâs grin tilts into an infuriatingly smug one. âYeah. We used the hell out of it. Thanks.â
It takes Namjoon a few seconds to make sense of that admission.
And when he does: âUgh. DudeâŚâ Namjoon recoils, instantly flopping the tie back on the table. Jungkook just laughs, unbothered.Â
Namjoon then looks up at his friend to whine a little but he notices that his gaze was trained on you. Waiting.Â
Namjoon turns his head to look at you. You were now staring straight ahead, completely ignoring his friend. You were staring at nothing.
The blank expression painted on your face was obviously forced. Internally, you were seething.
But you donât give Jungkook the satisfaction of a reaction. Not even a little stink eye or an eye-roll.Â
Not like he needed that from you anyway.
You continue to mask all of your seventy emotions with an expression of indifference.
This was all Jeon Jungkook would be getting from you from now onwards.Â
He pushes himself up from the table with an exaggerated grunt. âI better go find my girl.â
You dig your shoe into the floor, imagining his chest under it.Â
Jungkook lingers at your side for a bit, now tilting his head to gauge your reaction closely.Â
When he gets nada, he backs off slowly. âBye, hyungie.â Jungkook smiles at Namjoon victoriously. âDrive safe.â Namjoon spits in exasperation.
Every bit of guilt and regret Jungkook felt for what he did disappeared into thin air when you lashed out at his girlfriend.Â
Jeon Jungkook couldn't believe your candour just now.
Yet it put a lot of things into perspective for him: the power he held over you, your feelings toward his girlfriend, and finally, he now knew exactly what you wanted. And he knew what buttons to push. And he finally knows your limits.
His intuition had always been right. You definitely could handle this; you just didnât want to.Â
A curt â_____,â is the last thing you hear from him before Jungkook goes on to find his stupid girlfriend again.Â
Namjoon carefully watches the two of you.Â
Huh.Â
Slowly, he begins to scratch the surface of what potentially may have gotten you in this mood. Definitely something to do with Hyewon and Jungkook. But what happened?
Sadly for him, you werenât ever going to talk about it. You never got the whole âtalking about your feelingsâ crap. However, you did rant to Somin on the regular to get shit out of your system.Â
If only you could talk Jungkook out of your system tooâŚ
Hyewon sits stiff in the passenger seat of her boyfriendâs Bentley, arms crossed, eyes lazily following blurred car lights driving past them. She seems deep in thought.Â
Jungkook can sense a little something brewing in her mind. Akin to a few days ago, when you were in a similar position.Â
Itâs an awkward parallel.Â
âOkay,â Jungkook says finally, glancing at her before turning back to the road. âWhatâs on your mind?â
She scoffs under her breath. âWhatâs going on with meâŚâ She repeated before groaning into her palms, âUgh. I donât know.âÂ
But he knew.
Jungkook hums lowly in response. âYouâve been sighing the entire ride, babe.â
She inhales sharply, then lets it out, as though admitting this was a huge step. âItâs _____.â
Jungkookâs grip tightens on the steering wheel. Even though he expected it, he feels his heart racing,
âSheâs- God, sheâs such a bitch sometimes,â Hyewon is uncensored, but she backtracks a little. âI mean, Iâm sorry, but does she even realize how fucking unwelcoming she is?âÂ
Jungkook stays quiet, allowing his girlfriend to throw everything out there. Hyewon was breaking.Â
âShe got lucky. Thatâs all that girl ever did. Born in the right place, around the right people. Sheâs goddamn lazy- no, she has the privilege to be lazy. And she is! She doesnât have to try. And she gets away with treating people like shit because no one ever calls her out on it.â Hyewonâs voice cracks a little. âIf I treated anyone the way she acted towards me, Iâd have no friends left.â
She glances at her boyfriend for a second.
Jungkook doesnât know what to say to that because he had noticed some of that too.
Although you didnât seem like a total bitch, you had a bratty side. Maybe you were a little blunt too.
Still, he had no clue his girlfriend had such intense feelings about that aspect of your personality. Or she just never let it show.Â
âIâve been trying so hard with her...â She scoffs bitterly, âTrying to be her friend, make her feel included."
Throwing her head back against the seat, she exasperates, "But itâs just fruitless. We were so good all night and just now? All I asked was if she was okay. Why the fuck did she lash out on me?â
Sitting up straight, she shakes her head, explaining, âItâs like, I never know which _____ Iâm gonna get, you know? Iâm just⌠I don't know. I'm just- Iâm done.â Hyewon whispered the last two words.Â
Well fuck.
Jungkook was half-responsible for that. He ignited that fire.Â
Reaching over, he brushes his hand on her clothed knee gently, âYou donât need her, Won.â
Hyewon covers his hand with hers, grasping it tightly.Â
He sighs, a little unclear about your and Hyewon's relationship. âI thought you guys were friends though.â Or friendly, at least.
Hyewon lets out a hollow laugh, âNoâŚâ
Then she recalls, âIn fact, she only really started acknowledging me after she saw me with you. Before that, I didnât exist to her.â
That comes as a shock to him. He fully expected her to have feelings about your behaviour earlier that night but not the rest of it.
Jungkook glances at his girlfriend and back at the road ahead, but his mind flashes back to that night - the first time he was introduced to you and Logan properly.
Heâd clocked it instantly.
You were rough around the edges, distant, a little disrespectful too. He hadnât truly cared. If anything, it intrigued him.
Sure, he ranted about you, but secretly, heâs been curious about you ever since.Â
Up to this very moment, heâs still curious about you.
Even after the shit you just pulled, he wants to dig deep into you. Every possible implication of that sentence was applicable.
Suddenly, your (overall) conduct with him and his girlfriend made sense to him.
You werenât friends.
Hyewon was as good as some random woman to you.Â
âI feel like sheâs never liked me,â Hyewon says, more quietly now. âAnd honestly, I donât even know why I keep fucking trying with her.â
âThen donât,â Jungkook offers bluntly. âYou donât have to go out of your way to appease her. Why try to befriend her at all?âÂ
She whips her head toward him, eyes narrowing, âSo itâs my fault sheâs a cunt to me?â
âWhat? No!â Jungkook stumbles over the words, heat creeping up his neck. âI didnât-â - He clears his throat, âThatâs not what I meant. Iâm just saying you donât owe her any kindness she hasnât shown you.â
He doesnât blame her. After all, he too gets your appeal.
Hyewon quiets down for a moment. She turns her gaze back to the road.Â
Then she says, sounding defeated, âShe likes you, though.âÂ
Jungkook nearly swerves into the divider. âHm?â
Yet heâs glad he decided to drive instead of being chauffeured. He doesnât think he could look his girlfriend in the eye and have this discussion about you.
â_____ likes you.â She repeated, as if she was jealous of Jungkook.Â
And maybe she was, a little.Â
Hyewon looks at him incredulously. âBabe. _____ clearly likes you. She wants to hang out with you and Joon. She engages with you. She doesnât give a shit about me, whom she met first, but with you and Namjoon? Even Yoongi and Seowoo! Seowoo?â Hyewon gestures loosely, âTotally different person.â
His heart is, once again, pounding too loud in his chest. âIs that⌠bad?â He asked, referring to her first claim.
She thinks for a second before sighing.
âNoâŚâ Hyewon admits.
Letting out a short, bitter laugh, she admits, âI thought I could take advantage of it. You know, worm my way into her little world through you. But she clearly doesnât⌠want that.â
Jungkook feels the guilt like a punch in the neck.
Once again, he thinks about how he had noticed your attitude towards Hyewon. He even brought it up with her. But, he never addressed it with you like he shouldâve.Â
Instead, he flirted with you, touched you, dreamt of you, fantasized about you, crossed every fucking line with you except for actually, officially, crossing the line with you.
Even now, your pretty, teary, flushed face is permanently embedded in the back of his mind.Â
Jungkook doesnât have a plan but he asks anyway. âDo you want me to talk to her?â Itâs instinctual for him to want to help Hyewon.Â
Hyewonâs reply comes just as fast, âNo! God, can you imagine that? I donât need daddy to fight my battles for me.âÂ
He glances sideways at her, a pierced brow lifting.
She finally cracks a small smile, âShut up. Youâre fifteen.â Jungkook throws a hand up in defence and maybe slight confusion. They werenât that kind of couple.
âI said nothing.â Jungkook feels a little victorious to have been able to slightly lighten the mood.
âBut now that I think about it,â Hyewonâs smile fades just as quickly, âI⌠kinda donât want you talking to her at all.â
âWhat?â
âI know, I know,â Hyewon rushes. âIâm not trying to be that girl. Itâs not like I donât want you to have female friends. You know Iâm not like that. Itâs justâŚâ
âI know,â Jungkook nods along.
Hyewon groans and exhales, clearly frustrated, âItâs just her. _____. Sheâs been so fucking weird with me, I just⌠I donât want her to have the satisfaction of being close to you.â At latest not before she herself has that pleasure.
Jungkook blinks, surprised.
âMan, I feel like Iâm in high school again.â Hyewon lets out another helpless laugh, âI only had one friend whoâd defend me from those rich, mean girls. Iâm just so tired of feeling like I donât belong.â She shakes her head, âUgh, babe, donât listen to me. Iâm just tired and emotional nowâŚâ
Jungkook watched on sympathetically, âWonâŚâ He was familiar with Hyewonâs past experiences with those classmates.
As much as he understood it, he couldnât relate to it entirely. He never had it quite as bad as Hyewon. Male privilege and what not.
Stupidly, Jungkook indulges her insecurities, playing the supportive boyfriend role well. âItâs okay, Won. It-â He sighs, practically forcing the next few words out. âItâs not as if Iâm that close with _____. Joon is. It might get awkward. But, if this is what you need from me, then so be it.âÂ
Heâs just shooting himself in the foot at this point.Â
âGaah, I donât know! Youâre sweet, baby.â Hyewon runs her hand through his hair. âGod. Why does some random woman have such a strong hold on me?âÂ
Jungkook doesnât say it but it echoes in his head: you and me, both.
Just in time, he turns into his street.Â
Desperate to move on to another topic, Hyewon forces a weird smile, âRemember when Jiah tried to hit on you all night? And then you blatantly ignored her the entire time and then made out with me in front of her?âÂ
That was oddly specific. How could he not remember?Â
âI rememberâŚâ Jungkook blinked, a little confused. They were now parked in Jungkookâs garage.
She reaches over him to push his seat back. âIâm just reminiscing.â Hyewon smiles at her boyfriend before leaning in to kiss him.Â
Jungkook canât help but wonder if she wanted him to read between the lines.
It takes you almost a week to (partially) recover from that day.
It wasnât really about what you saw that night, it was what you did after you saw it.
Namjoon dropped you home and offered to stay. You refused because you werenât in the mood for anything funny, or anything at all.
The first thing you did after walking through the threshold of your room was dump those flowers in your fireplace.
You only felt a tiny bit bad for it. Those flowers did nothing to you, but you hated who they came from and what it now signified. You didnât want to keep apology flowers from fucking Kang Hyewon.
Otherwise, they'd have driven you nuts, just sitting on your bedside table.
Not a day had gone by when you didnât excessively obsess over every reactive thing you did (that you could remember) that night.
Logan wasn't allowed to utter the words 'gala' or 'night' around you.
The one thing you did not regret was putting Hyewon in her place for overstepping your boundaries.
You arenât sure whether or not it got through to her, but you aren't afraid of reminding her of it if you had to.Â
But, when it comes to Jeon JungkookâŚÂ
You fought the urge to look at news articles about him and needless to say, any photos or clips from the gala too.
Even your own! It was so unlike you to not find cute photos for your Instagram.
Youâd been sent countless of them by all your friends (and Seokjin) but you donât even want to acknowledge you were ever there. At least not yet.
Speaking of Seokjin; he had really surprised you.
He didnât go running to mommy and tattle on you (so you assume since your mother never sent you paragraphs about your familyâs legacy and image.)
Vague accounts of your outburst made its way to some snark subreddits but apart from that--- nothing major.
You suspect either Logan or Seokjin to have meddled. Either way, youâre grateful.Â
Even after all that effort of nothing ever making it to the big news channels or any remotely reputable online magazines, word of your little temper tantrum still got out in the office building and some social circles (through word of mouth, i.e gossip) but that was expected.
You have no way of confirming but it was most probably one of Hyewonâs little friends.
You just had to continue to keep a low profile, as you do normally.
Logan had graciously moved some things around and allowed you to work from home for a few (3) days after you sobbed to him about the incident.Â
Those three days flew by faster than you were ready.
Thursday morning comes for your throat.
You desperately wanted to skip some more but Logan demanded that you make an appearance at work. It was about time you returned.Â
The night before, you had the most vivid dream where you and Hyewon reversed roles.
But it wasnât the kind of dream youâre thinking about. You were literally in her shoes, going to a new office, doing lawyer stuff you didnât understand. And you tanked.Â
This is the mindset you woke up in: simply filled with dread.
You hope everyone goes easy on you.Â
Sua had checked on you which was sweet. You ranted to her about the gala in a conference call with Somin and Soobin, just not about what you saw though. That info was reserved for Somin only.Â
Apart from Sua, Namjoon and Yoongi had also called to check in.Â
Yoongi just gave you shit for acting like the typical Scarlet Hills socialite he thought you were. He really was a meanie panini.Â
And Namjoon⌠got the complete inside scoop from Jungkook before he ever tried with you, so you could not not talk to him.
While your first instinct was to ignore Namjoon, Yoongi gave you more shit for that, so, yeah, you spilled the beans for them. Not all your beans but enough.
It's so fun to be friends with men! Really!Â
No, but on a more serious note, Yoongi sorta kinda turned out to be the yin to your yang.
He didnât always give in to you (like Jungkook had done so many times in the past.) For example, he proposed a friendly date. While you agreed, the only place you were willing to meet Yoongi at was this vegan Indian restaurant an hour away from town. Yoongi opposed it a lot. And somehow, he tricked you into joining him at some stupid country club under the guise of âpicking up his golf bag.â And he made you drive!Â
That was when you realised; you and Yoongi would not work romantically.
You needed a sucker like Mr. Jeon to cater to your every need.Â
Not that that was your goal or anything. You still only want to fuck him and dump him. Thatâs all.
But that didnât mean you didnât have a little fun with the cat-faced man. :p
If anyoneâs curious, youâve discovered that Yoongiâs really good with his mouth. He almost made you cum from only sucking and nibbling on your tits. Almost.
But you havenât gone beyond that. You don't even know why.
At this point, you fully believe youâre cursed by the sex gods.Â
To solve this little mishap, you came to the most obvious conclusion. Since two negatives make a positive, you proposed a threesome with Namjoon and Yoongi. One that they both rejected.Â
They really needed to be inside your head to understand your logic.
Itâd been MONTHS since a man made you orgasm. Doing it yourself just doesnât feel the same. Believe it or not, you love the concept of giving up control during sex just for the thrills. You just canât do that alone.
All this sex talk right before work was really killing your mood.
When you finally returned to the office, you were surprised by how⌠normal it all was.
Nobody stared or whispered about you. The world hadnât ended because youâd cried and then snapped at a little bitch at a gala.
It was business as usual. You went on coffee runs for the office, updated everyoneâs calendars, made survey forms for your coworkers as per Loganâs orders, etcetera etcetera.Â
If at all anyone was gossiping about you, they were at least decent enough to wait until you left the room. But according to Sua, nobody actually gave a shit anymore. Especially not the people in your office. They had come to know you and were already sort of endeared by you at this point, which was good to hear and a much needed ego-boost.
Itâd be a blatant lie to say you werenât a little worried about all of this.Â
Besides it wasnât until lunchtime that you actually felt the slightest bit panicked.Â
You had to go down to J, K & K to see Joon.
Well, you didnât have to do anything but the more you put this off, the worse your anxiety would get.
Also, he invited you. He had something to ask you. You were dying to know what the hell that was all about. He wouldn't answer your texts or calls either. He went to Yoongi school of manipulation.
So, you just had to suck it up and take your ass over there.
The anxiety stemmed from not having been around Jungkook in a while and the fact that he must know you've deliberately been trying to keep away from him, along with rumours.
Dare you say, you were a tiny bit embarrassed about it all.Â
But you know what? Enough of that.Â
Returning to work wasn't as humiliating as you had built it up to be.
Adjusting the straps of your heels, you strutted down to Namjoonâs office.
And you told yourself you werenât about to look for him.Â
You pace around in the elevator a little.
Then it dinged.
And the elevator doors opened.
Directly to the one person you were hoping not to run into.Â
His hair looked slightly out of place, like he had just run his hands through it.
But thatâs not the thing youâre focused on.
There was something on his body you hadn't ever imagined to see. It isnât, like, something absolutely bonkers. Itâs so normal. But not on Jeon Jungkook.Â
Glasses.
On him. Face.Â
But without wasting any more precious seconds, you flip your hair back and glide past him into the office, leaving behind a trail of your sweet scent.Â
Jungkook was dumbfounded.
So much so that the elevator he had been waiting for left without him in it.
Maybe he wouldâve done something about the way you just⌠dismissed him had he not made important shopping plans with his other gir- his girlfriend.Â
You had only gotten one look at the man, yet you had every. single. detail. stuck in your head: his magenta tie, the grey coat hanging off his arm, his lip and brow piercings, the glasses⌠Oh, the glasses!
You didnât know he needed them. You didnât know you needed that.
They made him look maddeningly mature. Normally, that would turn you off but he just looked even hotter.Â
Very briefly, you pictured yourself stealing them, wearing them yourself as you rode his cock in his office chair. You let out a shaky sigh.Â
You were not built for crushing on unavailable men.
Then Namjoonâs voice broke your train of thought, âThere you are, I was about to come looking for you.â
You tightly smile at him and slip into his office, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.
ĘđšÉ
Long story short, youâre going to a little retreat on a private island, courtesy of Namjoonâs father.
Initially, you werenât part of the plan.
It was supposed to be just the winners of the Eirene, Seowoo and Hyewon by extension. But Yoongiâs assistant had to back out at the last minute because⌠well, you hadnât paid attention to the reason.
The point was that they had room.
So, naturally, Namjoon invited you.
Since youâd been cooped up in your apartment all week, working from home and (unintentionally or not) avoiding people since the gala incident, he figured a few days away from the city might do you some good.
Maybe give you and Jungkook a fresh start.
However, when he mentioned the idea to Jungkook, it didnât exactly go smoothly. Jungkookâs reaction was⌠less than enthusiastic?
âWhy though?â Heâd complained immediately, brows furrowed. âWhatâs the point of bringing her?â
Namjoon had rolled his eyes, âSheâs my friend. And she could really use a break.â
âDo you like her?â Jungkook had pressed, half-serious, half-mocking. âBecause if youâre interested in dating her, maybe take her somewhere else. On your own time.â
Hyewon had been the one to intervene, hugging Jungkookâs arm to calm him. âKook, relax. It might actually be good for everyone. You, me, her. Maybe itâll help⌠smooth things over.âÂ
Translation: This is yet another opportunity for her to get to know you. Fuck whatever she felt or said about you.
With that, the decision was made.
Namjoon promised you that you wouldnât have to spend more than a dinner or two around the lovebirds anyway.
You tried to wriggle out of it, claiming that Logan would never approve of you skipping out on work again, but Namjoon had a solution ready: âWeâre all working, _____. Weâll leave after office hours,â Heâd said matter-of-factly.
You gave it a thought.
Namjoon went on talking up the island.
You hummed, already picturing the gorgeous tan lines youâd wear after said retreat.
You werenât entirely convinced, however, the idea of a natural tan, and maybe collecting seashells for your next art project, sounded good enough to sway you.
Because itâd be more meaningful if you found the shells yourself instead of order them off Amazon or an overpriced Etsy shop.
Of course, the fact that Jungkook would be there wasâŚ. not the reason, obviously. But a nice little bonus. Emphasis on âlittle.â
The next day, Namjoon came by your office just as you were wrapping things up for the day.
He waited, leaning against the doorframe, refusing to come in and help you finish because he knew that would take way longer.
After finishing off your final task, you reapplied your gloss and cleaned up any traces of tiredness.
âReady to go?â Joon finally looks up from his phone.
You nodded once.
After saying goodbye to Logan - who gave you a pointed look that said be good - you followed Namjoon down to the parking lot.
You made him carry all of your luggage; two silver, hard shelled suitcases, one smaller than the other.
One contained all your toiletries and shoes, and the other packed your clothes and makeup. You had stayed up all night, washing and steaming your outfits.
Most of them didn't even make the cut.
You even chose more comfortable shoes today: platform, peep toed heels.
Your steps slowed when you spotted them.
Hyewon, standing near the back of the vehicle, chatting softly with someone you didn't recognise. And you could see Jungkook was already seated inside.Â
âPlease tell me weâre not driving togetherâŚâ You muttered to Namjoon under your breath.Â
He only hushed you. âItâs Kookâs car. And itâll only be a forty-minute ride. Youâll survive.â
Forty minutes? You had no idea what kind of island existed forty minutes away, but okay.
When you neared the vehicle, you greeted Hyewon with a strained smile, which she returned sweetly.Â
âNeed help with that?â Hyeown pointed at the little bags by your feet. You dumbly nod.
Whatever, sheâs a better woman than you, blah blah.Â
She smiled at you once again before helping you load the suitcases in the trunk.
âHelpingâ was generous. She basically did it for you while you watched.Â
The car, you noticed, was a cherry red Jeep. Not exactly the vehicle youâd ever imagined Jungkook in. He struck you more as a sleek black coupe type of dude.
Cherry red was more your thing though.
Youâd have liked to take the front passenger seat, but you assumed Hyewon had dibs on it.
So, you climbed into the back. Only to have Hyewon follow you in.Â
Great!
Whatever.
You pressed yourself against the window silently, determined not to look at Jungkook or acknowledge him at all.
Thatâs how you spent the first thirty minutes of the ride.
You had to listen to Hyewon yap about something or the other. About her mom, Jungkookâs mom, their family trip together, just relationship stuff.
She kept trying to ask you about your mother and Seokjin too. You assume it was in hopes of getting more intel on your family situation. But you couldnât be bothered to give her more than a âI havenât seen them all week.âÂ
You were told Yoongi was already waiting at the resort.
You text him asking him to claim a good room for you but he wasnât a good sport. He insisted all the rooms were âgood.â
Boring.
Another thirty minutes passed and traffic had brought the car to a crawl.
Forty minutes, my ass.
Both Namjoon and Hyewon had dozed off, leaving you in near-silence with only the sound of Hyewonâs boring Spotify playlist blaring through the speakers lowly.
It only consisted of Taylor Swiftâs last two albums. Or so you assume. They all sounded the fucking same to you. Like, are we kidding? Youâd rather eat Hyewonâs shoe.
Youâre kicking yourself for not charging your devices well.Â
You were dangerously close to passing out too but resisted.
You could sleep once you got to the place; on a comfy bed after a nice hot shower.
Shifting restlessly in your seat, you adjust your neck, trying to find a comfortable angle to rest in.
Jungkookâs eyes flicked toward you in the rearview mirror once.
Twice.
Then once again.
Finally, without saying a word, he reached over and held something out toward you.
A forest green neck pillow.
You stared at it, blinking.
He sighed. âJust take it. All that moving around is distracting.â
You glared at him, curling your lips into a childish pout.
He rolled his eyes and pushed the pillow further back at you until you reluctantly accepted it.Â
The moment your fingers sank into the plush memory foam, your resolve cracked. Memory foam. Your favourite.
You looped it around your neck, muttering a quiet thanks he probably didnât hear. You barely even heard it yourself.Â
The pillow even smelt like him. It was oud-y and musky. It made you squeeze your thighs together.Â
Fuck me.
Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be hot?
You glanced at him once. He didnât have his hot glasses anymore. HmâŚ
The memory of a specs-clad Jungkook would suffice for now, you think.
You sank back against the seat, staring out the window.
Thankfully, Jungkook switched Hyewonâs playlist to something he thought youâd enjoy: J-Hopeâs latest singles.Â
And heâs right again.
When the car finally rolled to a stop, you blinked away the haze of near-sleep and looked out the window - only to frown.
You were at an ominous location. You could smell that ocean air, but you couldn't figure out where you were.
You straightened up a little, âWhere are we?â You were already wary.
Namjoon only smiled, that kind of weird âtrust meâ smile that only made you not trust him. âYouâll see.â
Carefully, you followed the group out, heels clicking softly against the ground until the realization hit you.Â
You were nearing a helipad.
That makes you stop dead in your tracks. âNamjoon, no.â
Namjoon grinned, glancing back, â_____, yes.â He continued on towards the ground staff.
Ugh, this idiot thinks youâre thrilled.
âNo, Namjoon. You didnât say anything about a helicopter.â You end with an unexpected whine.Â
Meanwhile, Hyewon was clutching Jungkookâs arm dramatically, squealing something about being scared too. âYouâll hold my hand, right?â
Jungkook smiled, tucking her closer. âIâll hold it the whole way.â
Eugh.Â
Yeah, no. Youâre going home.Â
âJoonâŚâ You begin to build up your case but he doesnât let you finish.Â
âDoll, itâs a very short ride.â He reassures. Hyewon jumps in too, âYeah, _____, itâll be fine! If we go down, we all go down together.â She giggled.Â
?!
Does she think sheâs being funny? What is there to laugh about falling seven thousand feet to your death?
You make a strange face at her and her boyfriend who was leading her to the pick-up spot.
Just the idea of flying in a tin can with blades is⌠not fun. Youâd like to live, please, thank you.
Namjoon turned 180 degrees, making his way back to you to drag you along to the front with him.
And he had to literally drag your weight because youâd forced yourself to go limp in his grasp.
Finally, he just decides to throw you over his shoulders making you yelp in horror. âCome on, drama queen.â
You flail around a little, watching Jungkookâs car get smaller and smaller.
When it's only a little red dot, you give up.Â
 Then you hear a new voice.
âHi, Iâm Ivy. Iâll be flying you today.â
A female pilot.
For some reason, that helped settle your tummy.
Namjoon clumsily placed you back on your feet. You stumble a little but Jungkook holds you up.
You dramatically dust yourself off where he touched you.Â
He scoffed. Brat.
Ivy smiled warmly at you specifically, âItâll only be twenty minutes, I promise. The weatherâs perfect. Itâs so comfortable up there even you could easily take a cat nap.â
You believe her. You nodded slowly.
Okay. Maybe you werenât gonna die.
Even a person you've never met before can see how worried you were.
You unclenched your fist.Â
Some of the ground staff was loading your bags into a compartment on the side of the helicopter. Everyone was traveling light so it was all well under the weight limit.Â
Ivy lets you choose your seat first. You chose the middle one so you wouldnât have to stare at the world below you.Â
Even though Hyewon was whining about being afraid, she goes for a window seat, so does Namjoon.Â
That left Jungkook only one choice: pressed to your side for twenty whole minutes. Plus the few minutes it takes for the safety instructions to be explained and getting buckled in.Â
You were all given headsets to communicate better. You skipped out on it because itâd have messed up your hair.
You swear you heard Jungkook scoff at you again.Â
Take-off was the most daunting part.
When you heard the blades whirling faster, you instinctively reached out to grab Namjoonâs arm. He hissed under his breath.Â
A few minutes in, you still held a death grip on his arm.
He just laughed softly, prying your fingers off. âJesus, youâre cutting off my circulation.âÂ
You couldnât hear shit because you chose to forego the headphones.
So you just frown at him and cross your arms like a petulant child. But it wasnât comfortable to keep knocking your elbows into the two gigantic boulders sitting on either of your sides.
If this was anywhere else, youâd have been very satisfied. But four thousand feet off the ground? Over an ocean?
Nuh uh.Â
You then press your palms to your exposed knees, holding onto them instead. It was a tad more comfy.
Jungkookâs watching you through the periphery. He realises youâre genuinely scared.Â
He gazes at Hyewon whose eyes were glued to the window. She occasionally smacked his boyfriendâs thigh to show him whatever she was marveling at: migratory birds flying alongside them, a random skyscraper, a horse? Everything.
She contrasted you who were staring down at your lap.
Your hair fell over your face, barring your vision from accidentally catching glimpses of the environment around you.
Your knuckles were turning white around your knees.
With a deep sigh, Jungkook placed his large, tattooed hand over both of yours. You jump. It scares the shit out of you.
Only for a second though.Â
You lax a bit and peek at him through your hair.
Heâs looking at you.
With his free hand, he places the headphones over your ears and you let him.Â
In your defence, you were⌠still processing.
You also learn that the headphones did more than just allow everyone to speak to each other. They were also noise cancelling.
And you donât want to admit it but you felt a lot better this way.Â
You blush a deep shade of red as you feel his heavy hand rub yours. You felt his fingers brush against your bare knees, making you squeeze your thighs together involuntarily.
âŚ
You never wanted the ride to end.
By all means, screw that fucker, but Jungkook comforting you through a scary helicopter ride even after youâve been rather unkind to him is⌠admirable.
Internally, you groan, wishing you had packed your new thrusting, rabbit vibrator.
The landing was smooth enough to make you feel stupid for ever doubting Ivyâs flying skills but not enough to make you feel neutral these kill machines. You still very much hated them.
Wobbly legged, you stumbled out after Jungkook.
This time, he doesnât catch you.
Just like that, your brief admiration for him ended right there.
Jerk.
You vowed youâd never let Namjoon trick you into bullshit like this ever again.
By the helipad, two golf carts waited to take you to the resort.
You climbed into one with Namjoon, Hyewon, and Jungkook while your suitcases were loaded onto the other.
The ride was short and breezy. Even a little healing.
The cool night island air hits your face from all directions and the scent of salt and flowers curl in through the open sides; itâd put anyone in a good mood.
The villa, well, resort, technically- it was stunning.Â
Thank you, Mr. Kim.
It was a Tuscan style villa with creamy stone walls, cobblestone walkways lined with beautiful flower bearing bushes and warm amber lighting that made everything look and feel like it was the early 2000s.Â
Like any typical resort, staff members greeted you at the entrance, handing out chilled towels and colourful welcome drinks.
You accepted both, immediately taking a long sip from your orange and pink drink. Yum, yum.Â
As you were being led inside, someone began explaining the amenities; a quick list of spa treatments, private cabanas, infinity pools, yadda yadda, but your brain only half-registered any of it.
Until one particular phrase caught your attention.
ââŚand we have a two-Michelin-star pastry chef visiting us for the weekend.â
Ooh, bingo.
You knew exactly what your plans for the night were: a warm bubble bath, maybe a quick nap, and then room service from that dessert menu that you just know is about to be scrumptious, as you watch Gilmore Girls for, like, the eleventh time.
You almost moan out loud, thinking about all the tiramisu youâre about to gobble.
As everyone slowly began dispersing toward the suites, you felt a presence behind you. Then a light arm slipped around your waist from the side, startling you.
You peer at the figure. âYoongi?â You blinked.
He grinned lazily, doing the same to Namjoon who stood beside you, before moving on to greet Hyewon and Jungkook with a similar warmth. He seems a bit dazed.
âJust came to say hi,â He pointed to your left with his chin, âIn case I donât see you guys later tonightâŚâ
You all follow his gaze which lands on a gorgeous woman in a tiny black dress. She smiles and waves.
Ohhhh. Cute! You giggle and wave back at her.Â
Yoongi was tipsy.Â
âAh, I see why you were in such a hurry,â Namjoon teased. Yoongi just shrugged.Â
Before you could even comment, Hyewon clapped her hands together. âOkay! Since weâre all in a hurry right now,â Nobodyâs in a hurry for anything⌠âYouâre all invited to our suite in exactly two hours. Weâre hosting a casual dinner! Yoongi, you can bring your date!âÂ
Jungkook nodded along as she spoke, with his arm looped around her shoulders.
Namjoon smiled politely. Even Yoongi gave her a little thumbs up in agreement.
Crickets.
As the silence stretched for a second too long, you realized they were all looking at you.
Oh, they wanted an answer this instant.
You blinked. âOh. Iâm okay. I think Iâll just sleep.â
Hyewonâs smile faltered for a second, barely noticeable, but you still caught it. As did everyone else.Â
You scrunched your brows in confusion. âOk...â
You could tell she didnât want to believe youâd turned her down for no reason. It was easier for her to assume you were unwell than to accept you just didnât want to go.
Namjoon shot you a vague âIâm disappointed in youâ look. Jungkookâs sported more of a⌠frown? Like you'd kicked his dog or something. Well, you suppose you kinda did.Â
Okay then. Can't please everyone now, can ya?
Not wasting a moment longer, you smile. âGood night!â You chirp and follow one of the concierges down a hallway toward your room. Your luggage follows you.Â
ĘđšÉ
As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, you exhaled, rolling your shoulders back.Â
Why the hell was this your fault again? You toss your handbag on the floor.Â
You donât understand why Hyewon wants to play host when everything is paid for by Namjoonâs dad. You arenât trying to be⌠bitchy? A snob? Whatever the word is, you werenât it. Your confusion is genuine. She âexpectedâ everyone in her and Jungkookâs suite for dinner.Â
Sucks to be her because you have big plans to pig out in your little room tonight.Â
After that hell of a car ride? Having to sit with the couple, forced to listen to their vacation plans for December. Renting a ski chalet with Jungkookâs family. Super original. And who plans trips more than half a year ahead?Â
And then the godforsaken chopper- you donât even want to think about it and accidentally relive it.Â
Youâd rather be able to pick your own dinner rather than force yourself to eat whatever crap Hyewon selected.
I mean, she never asked you if you had any allergies or for anyoneâs preferences. You canât eat gluten this week. Or corn, because it sucks.Â
Itâs better than showing up and being rude to the host (because of the hostâs own neglectfulness.)Â
Thereâs zero reason for you to feel bad about it. Itâs not as if all their efforts will go to waste if one person skips. The others were still going to be there to enjoy it and praise her.
Ugh. You groan before peeling your clothes off your body. You slip into the bathrobe provided by the Brando. Mm, soft.Â
You call room service to set up a relaxing, much needed bath for yourself.
While it gets ready for you, you facetime Somin.
You reiterate your plans for the night to her. To nobodyâs surprise, she supports your right to stay in rather than show up at Hyewon and Jungkookâs.
You end up staying on call with her (briefly adding Logan later,) all night long while still doing everything else you planned to.
The next morning, Jungkook spots you strutting into the restaurant in Prada SS 2009 heels and an itsy bitsy striped bikini top and skirt with something that looks an awful lot like a Hannah Montana beach towel lazily draped over you.
You only threw the towel on because the restaurant wouldnât let you in without a cover-up. It didnât do much covering anyway which was just the way you liked it.Â
With his eyes glued to your body, Jungkook didnât even notice Yoongi in pursuit.Â
Hyewon was still explaining to the waitress how she wanted her guacamole prepared, too occupied to notice whatever was going on there.Â
You and Yoongi were the last ones there.Â
Since Namjoon was off snorkeling with the dolphins or whatever, it was just the four of you.Â
You were preparing to skip out on this breakfast date but Yoongi came barging into your room and threatened you to show up because Namjoon put him on _____ responsibility.
Itâd have been rude to bail a second time.
Not that you care. You sincerely could not be bothered about how Hyewon felt.
Youâd like to point out once again that she was not the host, and nor was she the person whose invite you accepted. Namjoon was.Â
Anyway, Yoongi ate you out: first, through your panties for five whole minutes before discarding them completely, then he only cleaned you up with his tongue. He hadnât let you finish.
Instead, he held your orgasm over your head and made you attend breakfast.Â
What were you gonna do? Say no? You tried but he was very persuasive.
âOh, hello!â Hyewon cheerfully greeted you and Yoongi.
Her eyes flitted over to Yoongiâs arm behind your lower back. He was helping you into your chair. âOh, when did this happen?âÂ
You followed her gaze, looking down at yourself, and then blinked up at her. âWhen did what happen?â
âThiiiss,â she said with a teasing little grin, gesturing between you and Yoongi. âI just didnât know you two were close. You were with Namjoon before.âÂ
Yoongi hummed, âWeâve become close over the week.â He thought nothing of it. But you knew what was brewing in her head. Itâs always about relationships with this woman.
Hyewonâs eyes widened slightly at his tone. She looked back at Jungkook who was now fully focused on your conversation too.
They hadnât necessarily heard Yoongi speak of anyone like that before. And since you're a woman and heâs a man and men can never be friends with women, they were understandably taken aback. Note the sarcasm.
Hyewon laughed delicately, a little in disbelief, âWow, really?â Then she goes on to say, âOh, my god, this reminds me-â She waves her hands around to express her disagreement, â-you know, Iâve always detested that term: homie hopper.â She uses air quotes.
Yoongi and Jungkookâs eyes snap to Hyewon.Â
Hyewon cringes. âItâs such an unnecessary misogynistic term. Like, people can do whatever they want.âÂ
Then why bring it up in the first place?Â
You almost laugh in her face because of how bad she was at shading people. Though, that didnât stop you from feeling a bit of discomfort because everyone at the table understood what she was hinting at.
As much as youâd like to say you werenât hurt, it stung a tiny bit. Which was crazy because you never cared what most people thought of you, let alone someone like Hyewon, whom you donât even have a real opinion on.Â
Jungkookâs brow raised, still processing the words that just exited his girlfriendâs mouth.Â
On the other hand, Yoongi was quick with his defense. âWhy say it then?â His tone wasnât accusatory or sharp, but he feigned confusion.Â
âI wasnât, I mean, I didnât mean it in that way. God, Iâd never.â Hyewon explained smoothly.Â
Yoongi wasnât having it, âWeâre not stupid, Hyewon.â He copied her nonchalant tone.
Before Hyewon could respond, her boyfriend jumps in, âYah, letâs not go there? Itâs nine in the morning.â It was directed towards Yoongi.
Yoongi?Â
Hyewonâs the one who started it. But ok, Yoongi shouldnât go there.Â
Fuck that. You frown at him before picking out a menu to peruse through.
âShe did not mean anything by it.â Jungkook looked at his girlfriend to confirm. âRight?â His hand slipped under the table--- you just knew it was to squeeze Hyewonâs thigh.Â
Ew...
âOf course not! I was only sharing an opinion!â Hyewon rushed to reassure her boyfriend.
She looks at you with this shocked look. You donât know how to describe it.
âI am so sorry it came out that way.â It was as if she suddenly regretted trying to drag you. Or pretended to.Â
When you donât acknowledge her, she reaches out to grab your hand, â_____, Iâm sorry. Letâs just start over?âÂ
If she doesnât let go of you in the next five seconds, she is about to be wearing her breakfast eggs on her head.
âI donât care,â you smile awkwardly, âWeâre fine.âÂ
Maybe Hyewon was still upset that you rejected her for dinner the night before. And maybe this was her way of showing it or lashing out.Â
An awkward silence ensued after.
You then placed an order for a breakfast tiramisu and an espresso martini. Not even Yoongi interfered with your unhealthy choices.Â
It wasnât until Jungkook decided to break the ice (mainly addressing Yoongi and Hyewon) that things went back to somewhat normal.
You didnât engage too much in any of their conversations.
Jungkook took note of it. Heâd occasionally look your way, and you donât know if it was to get you to join in or simply to admire.
You had half a mind to unwrap your purple towel and really give him something to look at, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be mad at him.Â
Little things like this never bothered you before. So many of your past dates have pulled these tricks to get you to feel or act on jealousy. But it never worked. You werenât the type of person who felt possessive over people nor the type to hold grudges.Â
Until Jungkook, maybe?Â
Youâve had hours to contemplate if your feelings were even worth entertaining.
It was silly to be mad at Jungkook. He was only teasing. You have half-forgiven him.
Thatâs a concept youâd like to introduce: choosing forgiveness until he ruins it for you with any more of his shenanigans.Â
Your heart felt lighter when you came to this conclusion with yourself.Â
Somin thought you needed to slow down on your attempts with Jungkook, refrain from acting out and getting rage-baited by him. And you agreed.
Besides, it takes a lot of effort to be mad at someone. But you canât help feeling a tad annoyed by the couple sitting across from you with all their⌠together-ness.Â
Around twenty excruciating minutes later, you and Yoongi excused yourself to go get a dry massage session before you sunbathed.Â
Hyewon invited you to a private couples yoga class she had pre-booked for herself and Jungkook.
It wouldn't have been private with you and Yoongi there though.
While you had time, you did not care for it.
Yoga was a regular thing for you, so it wasnât as if youâd learn something new. If anything, youâd be forced to watch Jungkook stretch Hyewon out for a second time.
And you didnât like the way she proposed it either: âOh! You donât seem to have anything special planned then? Come join us!â
Getting a little massage and sunbathing werenât âplans?â Fuck that.Â
Thankfully, Yoongi politely declined before you could protest. He also paid before Jungkook could.
This restaurant wasnât part of the resort so breakfast wasnât paid for in advance. Jungkook had called for the bill but, like, Yoongi sniped and gave the waitress his card before she could accept Jungkookâs. And you found that pretty hot.
Jungkook thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing and soothing, something you practiced to get your mind off things.
Yet, in the silence, he couldnât stop wondering about you and his hyung.
He absolutely didnât deem Min Yoongi to be your kind of guy in general, let alone something more. But after seeing him dancing with you the other night and after Hyewonâs inquisitiveness, he doubts his own intuition.
It was none of his business but he didnât love the idea of you and Yoongi. Even Namjoon seemed a more likely option.Â
Either way, he didn't plan on driving himself nuts over your (possible) dating life.
The yoga class was held under a white canopy by the villa, facing the sea.
The instructor, Ria, spoke in a soft and measured tone, gracefully demonstrating each pose. As expected, Jungkook and Hyewon were the ideal students.Â
Then, when they get more comfortable between poses, Ria goes off to bring a sound healing instrument.
Then Jungkook suddenly lets out an exhale. âWon, what was that earlier?â
Hyewon looks over questioningly, midâwarrior pose. âWhat was....?â
âAt breakfast.â He straightens, fixing his sweats a little. âThe thing you said about _____.â
Hyewonâs face tightens briefly. âIt wasnât about her. I mean-â She sighs, adjusting herself. âIt came out wrong. I just opened my mouth before I thought. I feel horrible, okay?â
He hopes sheâs being truthful. Jungkook just nods along. âIt didnât sound great.â
âJungkook, I know,â she says, voice a little strained now. âI mean I even apologised right then. Why are you bringing it up now?â
âAlright, alright. I just wanted to clear it up.â Jungkook backs off. Then he adds, âYo- we should probably just⌠leave her alone for now.â
Hyewon doesnât understand what he meant by that but she chooses to stay quiet, ignoring his suggestion.
Thereâs an awkward silence when Ria returns and calls for the next pose - downward dog.
Hyewon turns away from her boyfriend, getting into position, focusing on the sounds of the wind chimes and the soothing music instead.
However, as the session goes on, the atmosphere subtly shifts.
Hyewonâs focus wavers. She didnât love the fact that her own boyfriend questioned her motives in your defense. She suddenly momentarily hated the fact that you tagged along, contrary to how she had felt when she first found this out.Â
Jungkook doesnât really notice the shift in his girlfriendâs mood, too busy getting the yoga right. He doesnât try to engage her how he had tried with you earlier today. (Yeah, she noticed.)
And understandably so, Hyewon hates that even more.
Meanwhile at the spa, you and Yoongi were led into separate adjoining rooms for your dry massages.
The rooms smelt like essential oils and smoky sage.
It looked like a typical Thai spa, nothing outstanding but it was beautiful regardless.
There was a koi pond at the entrance too. You wish you had brought your phone along to show Somin to give her ideas for her indoor pond. Somin had one in her backyard but the birds kept stealing the poor fishies. She would get new ones but the birds kept returning. Soon she realised that she was feeding the birds that way. Ever since, she has been looking for inspo to build a little pond in her living room instead.Â
The massage was as relaxing as you expected. No oils or lotions were used; it was a dry massage because you didnât want to get cooked in the sun later.
Your masseuse wouldnât stop complimenting your soft skin. You assumed she was fishing for tips but she wouldnât accept any when you tried.
So, yay. :) It doesnât take too much to make you happy.Â
You hoped to remain uplifted all day today. Or at least until dinner when youâd have to see Hyewon and Jungkook again.Â
After your massage, you find Yoongi waiting for you by the sun deck. He was staring into the endless ocean.
The sun made him look almost translucent.
He looked too serene to disturb but you were in a rush. âIâm still a bit hazy from the massage, and I wanna keep feeling so I can nap on that beach!!â With that, you run off to the beach.
Yoongi stays on the deck for a few minutes before heading back to the villas from where he grabs your phone, a tube of sunscreen, and two books to pass time with.Â
When he gets to the beach, he sees youâve already set yourself up on a lounge chair, basking in the warm sunlight. Â
An employee had installed an umbrella for Yoongi.Â
âNeed sunscreen?â He asks, already reaching for the tube before you can answer. You squeak in assent, sprawling out on the chair for him. He kneels beside you, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. The lotion feels cool against your warm skin.Â
Yoongi spreads it slowly, over your shoulders, your tummy, the tops of your thighs and your legs. âHow do you walk on sand with those heels? Flip.â - âHm? OhâŚâ You look at your feet before turning over for him, âI dunno, I just do.âÂ
Uh, you werenât about to take your shoes off to lie on a chair - theyâre part of your outfit. And last time you checked, this wasnât a nude beach. I mean, it was a private one so you could probably get away with some nudity but youâve been really into tan lines lately. So, you know. The bikini stays on.
Also, you doubt the employees would be pleased if you tried.
Yoongi massages the cream deeply into your skin.
He begins to help himself before you could offer to do it for him, so you donât bother.Â
You stay on your stomach, resting your cheek on the back of your palm, leaving your hair cascading down your back.
You hear the roar of the ocean and the screeching of the seagulls. There werenât too many of those there though. You could maintain your peace.
You sigh dreamily.
A few minutes of silence prompt you to check on Yoongi.Â
He was settled in next to you with a fat book on⌠music therapy?Â
Huh.Â
You turn the other way and close your eyes, breathing in the fresh, salty ocean air.
Itâs peaceful.
For the first time probably all week, youâre content to just exist. Just you, the warm sun, the cool wind, and the sounds of the water. And Yoongi.
Perhaps Namjoon was onto something bringing you here.
ĘđšÉ
The next time you open your eyes, you see a blond lying on the chair to your left: âOh,â a familiar voice exclaims, âYouâre up!âÂ
You squint a little, and thereâs Namjoon, reclined on the seat. His hair was still damp and slicked back and his sunglasses were perched low on his nose. And heâs already got a beautiful tan on.Â
Still sleepy, you mumble. âHow long have you been sitting there?âÂ
He shrugs, âA little less than an hour.âÂ
Damn. You'd been knocked out for a while.
You glance to your right. Yoongi was on to a new book now. âOh⌠Shouldâve woken meâŚâ
There was a slight imprint of your own hand on your face. It was a good nap.
âI tried.â Namjoon snorted, âSnorkeling was amazing. You shouldâve come.âÂ
âWas it?â You ask, flipping on your back and stretching your arms over your head.
âYeah. There was this one dolphin that kept following me - probably because I dropped my snorkel multiple times,â he laughs. âEmbarrassing as hell, but so worth it.âÂ
He was way too chill about losing important equipment more than once⌠âGood for you.â You hum, blinking against the light, âAt least one of us is having fun.âÂ
You put your palm out, asking Joon for his sunglasses. He obliges.Â
âYeah, okay. You woke up at the perfect time though.â
âI did?â
âYep.â He sits up, brushing some sand off his shorts. âNext activityâs at one.âÂ
You ogle his thighs for a few seconds. âDefine activityâŚâÂ
Namjoon opens his mouth to answer but then decides against it: âItâs a surprise.âÂ
Dramatically shaking your head, you whine, âNuh uh, no more of those.âÂ
âYouâll have fun, I promise.â Namjoon pulls you off your resting place.Â
You let out a faint âNooooâ before complying with his requests.Â
Namjoon knew youâd take a while to dress up so he sent you off early. Knowing how much the group enjoyed drinking, he had booked a little mixology class. Initially it was supposed to be just the three of you but during dinner last night, it turned into a group activity.Â
And maybe this would help you bond with Hyewon and⌠well, he hopes you wouldnât âbondâ with Jungkook any more than you have currently. For Hyewonâs sake.
All this while, Namjoon had been confident that Jungkook wouldnât pay you any heed and he had been proven wrong.
In his opinion, Hyewon and Jungkook belonged together.
Itâs not that he doesnât like you. He loves you. But he doesnât love you for his buddy. He thinks you would stomp on Jungkookâs heart with your sexy little stilettos and crush it.
He could just talk to you and ask you to back away but itâs a bit too late for that anyway.
That being said, he still hopes you and Jungkook are able to build a friendship. If not now, sometime in the future.
It was nearing one in the afternoon by the time you finally emerged from your room - ten minutes later than Namjoonâs text had instructed, but who was counting?Â
Youâd taken your sweet time getting dolled-up, abandoning your bikini for a mini slip dress with black lace detailing along the neckline. It paired beautifully with your diamond necklace (all lab grown because youâre not a monster.)Â
What took long was the hair. You worked your hair into waves and added little braids here and there. Like at the night of the gala.Â
Namjoon had only told you to change into something comfortable for an âactivity.â No further hints.
You were hoping it wasnât anything involving hiking, sand, or god forbid, group sports.
The sun was high and hot, you doubt it was any of those options anyway.
You followed the winding stone path down toward the villa deck, where Namjoonâs text had told you to meet him.
You spotted Joon first, leaning leisurely against a railing in a linen shirt and khakis, with a different pair of sunglasses perched on his head.
Yoongi stood beside him, holding a glass of something brown and on the rocks.Â
They were discussing the layout of the place and how inconvenient it must be for employees on this island to travel from work to home.Â
âAbout time,â Yoongi said, glancing at you as you carefully stumble onto the deck in your ladybug kitten heels.
âYou boys are lucky I showed up at all.â You shot back, and his mouth twitched in a half smile.
Namjoon stepped forward, clapping his hands once. âAlright, now that weâre all hereâŚâ He gestured to the open-air setup behind him: a long wooden counter stood in a corner, shaded by palm fronds. Shakers were stacked neatly atop it along with bowls of citrus, berries and jars of other edibles, bottles of liquor, and rows of gleaming glasses. ââŚSurprise.â
You froze for half a second before letting out a delighted squeak. âA mixology sesh?â
Namjoon grinned. âYouâve mentioned wanting to try it before, soâŚâÂ
He listens to you!Â
âOoh, oh, my God,â Youâre practically bouncing in place, âIâm so excited!âÂ
Right then, a figure exited a gorgeous little shed nearby and introduced themselves as the instructor, Kyle.
Then Kyle began running through the basics. âWeâll start by prepping some ingredients, washing and cutting fruit, muddling herbs, that sort of thing. Then weâll get into building flavor profiles.âÂ
You werenât too keen on the grunt work but if the end result is a drunk _____, youâre doing ittt.
You, Namjoon, and Yoongi each gave your introductions in turn before diving into the setup.
Kyle handed you and Joon some of the citrus fruits and a grater and asked you to zest them into separate bowls.Â
Yoongi, being more experienced with knives, was asked to slice the fruits into thin wedges for the plating.
Everything was going just fine.Â
And then-Â
âOh, you guys started without us?â
You froze mid-smile.Â
Turning, you saw Hyewon approaching, one arm looping through Jungkookâs. They both looked freshly showered and far too put-together for a lazy beach afternoon (as did you.)Â
Hyewon was in a coral halter sundress, hair glossy and tied with a silk scarf. Jungkook wore a Hawaiian button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and exposing his tats. His sunglasses were hooked in the center of his shirt and his capri shorts were... weirdly hot.
Your heart did something stupid at the sight of him. His hair was a tad tousled by the wind. You almost want to reach out and fix it.Â
Namjoon straightened a little, smiling welcomingly. âHey, you guys made it.â
Hyewon smiled, âYeah! We were gonna go snorkeling because you made it sound so good but we figured we could just do that tomorrow.â
We, we, we. Blegh.
You forced a polite little smile, trying not to show the flicker of irritation. Or the heat that rose to your cheeks when Jungkookâs eyes flicked to you before dropping to your bare shoulder where one of your straps had slipped off of. Then to your hands that daintily grasped the half peeled lime, and then down to your legs.
âAlright!â Kyle smiled brightly at the couple, âYou guys ready to catch up?â
They both nodded. Hyewon offered an apologetic smile while Jungkook looked only mildly interested.
âGreat! Since your friends have already startedâŚâ Kyle gestured at the small array of half-prepped fruits, bottles, and herbs on the long wooden counter, âIâll give you two some tasks too.âÂ
He points at Hyewon, âYou can help wash and prep the berries.â Then turning to Jungkook, âYou can take over the herbs. Youâre going to use that muddler and gently press it down on the herbs. Make sure to bruise, not murder them.âÂ
Jungkook already disliked Kyle.Â
As everyone settled into their given roles, Kyle began to talk about mixing alcohols.
The doâs, the donâtâs, what kind of alcohol mixes with what liquid, different flavour profiles, hot and cold drinks, and so much more that youâre sure you wonât remember after today.Â
Then, Kyle began demonstrating mixing colours.
You actually found yourself fascinated, leaning a little closer as they poured a splash of liqueur into a shaker and swirled it to show contrast.
Kyle had everyone taste different types of liqueurs. Though they controlled the portion, you and Yoongi snuck some extra shots in.
But you spat bitter whiskey into a paper towel. You never understood how anyone could enjoy this.
After your fourth shot of vanilla vodka, you were beginning to... feel things.
âNow,â Kyle clapped his hands once, smiling mischievously, âtime for something fun. Iâve got a little game for you all. Itâll be a test of your creativity and teamwork.â
Yoongi groaned, already sensing some shit-stirring.
These were grown adults with full-time jobs, they didnât need any more intrapersonal skill assessments.Â
âIâm gonna divide you into two teams,â Kyle continued, âEach group gets twenty minutes to create an original cocktail. Youâll present it to me, Iâll taste both, and weâll have a winner.â
Before anyone could voice their opinion, Kyle was already dividing you up, âYoongi and Namjoon are Team One.â
Now Yoongiâs face lit up in glee. It took you a bit longer to register though.
That meantâŚ.Â
â_____, Hyewon and the hot one whose name I cannot remember,â Kyle winked, âYouâre Team Two.âÂ
You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning back to the counter.
The tension was palpable.Â
Jungkook stood on one side of Hyewon, cutting ice cubes down to little cubes. And you stood on the other, minding your own beeswax.
You have no clue what Hyewon was doing either.
You didnât bother communicating your idea to the couple. You just started building it.
A sparkling, glittery pink drink with hints of passionfruit and raspberry. The fizz comes from champagne and tonic, and the glitter is a dusting of white edible shimmer youâd found in one of the tiny jars Kyle had set out.
You crushed some berries, mixed them in with the wine and drained the liquid. You ignored whatever conversation was happening beside you.
It wasnât until you reached for the pink passionfruit that things went sideways. You were trying to cut it up into tinier pieces to mush together with the raspberries for a deeper tint with lesser berry flavour.
Jungkook narrows in on you reaching out for the sharpest knife designed to cut ice - you were about to pick it up by the damn blade.
You were totally distracted, staring at the pink pigment stained on your other fingers.
Jungkook nearly lunges over his girlfriend. His hand shoots out to grab your wrist and knock the knife away from your palm before you could cut yourself.
Hyewon shuffled backwards, startled, as her boyfriend grabs hold of you.
The tool clattered to the ground.
You were still staring at your pink fingertips.
What just happened?Â
âYou canât be picking up knives by the sharp end, _____.â Jungkook scolded you.
The entire deck was now watching on in curiosity. Employees and all.
You pout at him, still a little dazed, âGeez, okayâŚâÂ
Jungkook exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, quieter, âJust- tell me what you want to do. Iâll do it.â
You hesitated, but eventually pointed at the fruit. âI want to cut it into smaller pieces to mash.âÂ
âAnd?â Jungkook was already on it.Â
You hum rubbing up and down your arm, âMmm, mix it with tonic and white wine and strain it. Add a little sweetener, then glitterâŚâÂ
Hyewon smiled, suddenly jumping in, âIâll mash and strain then!âÂ
Ok, so this was going to be a group activity now.
You happily pass the little muddler off to her. You wanted to be on glitter duty anyway.
Jungkook passed on the little cubes to Hyewon who mashed them. Then she stirs it in with the two liquids, as per your direction.
Finally, you dust in a good amount of the shimmery powder and stir before equally pouring the concoction into six different glasses.
Hyewon even sliced a little piece of a tangerine to stick on the rims of each glass. It looked pretty cute.
When the drinks were done, Kyle went around tasting each. They gave feedback on everything.Â
Finally, Yoongi and Namjoonâs smokey citrussy drink won. But that was expected since Yoongi knew a lot about alcohol and drinking anyway.Â
Kyle lingered by your side, swirling a glass of the _____ (thatâs what you called your drink) in their hand. âThis,â they said, admiring the shimmer under the sun, âis fun. Needs a little more acidity, but the presentation is gorgeous.â
Yay! You smiled, ducking your head shyly. âThanks.âÂ
Jungkook, standing behind you, watched the way you bit back your grin. You tried not to look too pleased. And for some reason, it made something tighten in his chest.Â
Itâs so easy to make you happy. So easy to want to.
Kyle clapped once more. âAlright, mixologists, youâve earned a break. Thereâs a beautiful picnic set up for you on the beach. Follow me, allons-y!â
They led you down the wooden path towards the sand.Â
You walked ahead with Yoongi, talking about how much you loved your sparkly drink idea.
When Yoongi tells you to turn it into a business plan, you immediately lose interest in discussing your drink with him.
Why did men do that?Â
Behind you, Jungkook fell back beside Namjoon, lowering his voice so only his hyung could hear, âListen,â He cleared his throat. âI booked a yacht for tomorrow to get back to the city.â
Namjoon frowned. He had checked for yachts the day before but none were available for a few weeks now. Plus, he discovered a helicopter to be faster and, surprisingly, cheaper. The port was farther away than the helipad. And with a chopper, they could directly land on top of their office building if they wanted.
âHow come?â Namjoon chose to ask before hounding him with all this info.Â
Wasn't it apparent?
âSheâs terrified of flying, man.â Jungkook said it as if it was the most obvious response.Â
Namjoon blinked, following Jungkookâs gaze up ahead - stopping on you as you walked barefoot beside Yoongi, violently shaking your head at something Yoongi said.Â
Huh. Maybe Namjoonâs better off not meddling.
next: killah (jjk) [9]
note: firstly, everything i wrote for the mixology class scene is from my own head. i did not feel like researching anything so i just made stuff up. if anything is accurate, it's a coincidence. still, pleek don't attempt to recreate anything from that scene irl
secondly, slut shaming of any of the characters will not be tolerated! be normal ok
finally, these two months are going to be super busy for me (shocker ik.) sooo, if you ask me for an update anytime before december 30, i won't be able to give you any answers đ
please tell me what you think!! write to me, send me memes, interact w me :)
You knew from the first wedding planning meeting that a âsmall weddingâ was an illusion.Â
The Jeon name alone outweighed your preferences, and the press would find a way in even if you married in a storage closet. But still, you tried to propose a small wedding.
Or at least, a smaller one.
âNo more than a hundred people,â you told the wedding coordinator in charge, Yeon, who is also Mr. Jeon and Mrs. Jeonâs head of housekeeper.
Apparently she is basically your in-laws' right hand woman when it comes to events, or anything related to the house. It wasn't really surprising, especially knowing Yeon even has a masterâs degree in hospitality.Â
Yeon couldnât even hide her reaction when you told her you wanted a wedding with only a hundred people. Her apple pen hovered mid air, âMiss, the Jeon Group has eight subsidiaries in South Korea alone, we have not counted the one overseas, and each subsidiary has a board, and each board has-â
âI know,â you cut her off, âjust please try to keep it minimal.â
Mr. and Mrs. Jeon completely gave you the green light to do what you want, but after talking more with Jungkook, Taehwan, and Yeon, you now realise itâs not just a normal wedding.
Itâs the wedding of the only son and the only heir of the Jeon empire.
Itâs the wedding of the richest family in South Korea, and almost all of Asia.
Itâs almost like the wedding of the century.Â
A small wedding you wanted became seven hundred people.Â
And that was after Jungkook reduced the guest list by half, ignoring every complaint Yeon and Taehwan said he might receive from people who thought their presence was essential. You watched him do it with the same precision you imagined he used in boardrooms, Jungkook was calm, unbothered, and decisive.
Now, standing behind the closed double doors of the grand hall, the scale of everything still hits you, even though both you and Jungkook were hands on in planning the wedding.
Youâve seen these double doors, youâve seen the grand hall, and youâve tasted the cakes, catering, and drinks.Â
Yet today, on the day you will be getting married to the Jeon Jungkook, everything youâve tried before feels completely new.Â
You were getting married in the ballroom of Jeon Groupâs 7-star hotel.Â
A ceiling sparkling with custom chandeliers, imported flowers were arranged into a full floral tunnel, and seven hundred chairs with each filled with people whose last names carried more wealth than you could ever imagine.
And all of that meant nothing when your mom tightened her grip on your arm, âYouâre breathing too fast,â she murmured, âslow down, donât panic. Youâll be okay.â
You exhaled through your nose and nodded.Â
Your mom looked at you softly, she wasnât present almost most of your life, but you knew it wasnât by choice. She did try to find you the best she could, and the past doesnât matter.
Especially when she has been showing up every second of your life ever since you met her for the first time.
What matters is now.
And now she is here, standing next to you, and walking you towards something you never thought you would have.
âYou donât have to go out there if youâre too overwhelmed,â she said quietly.
You looked down at the ring Jungkook had slipped on your finger in the car, when he proposed to you without any speech. A memory that grounded you more than this grand hall ever could.
âI want to,â you said.
Your mother squeezed your hand once, âGood, then letâs go.â
The doors opened and the sounds of the crowd dropped into a hush and seven hundred heads turned to look at you as you stepped forward.Â
Jungkook was standing at the altar, and the sight of him erased everything else around you.
He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his posture was straight and composed, as always. But the second he saw you, something snapped loose inside him.
He smiled.
He smiled so wide you could tell it stunned the room.Â
A couple of guests shifted on their seats, whispering as if they just spotted a myth.
Jeon Jungkook did not smile like that.Â
Not at galas, interviews, or at business conferences.
His public expression was famously known as cold and untouchable, he would only smile when he needed to, and the smile he gave to the public was never genuine.
But right now, his smile was unmistakably genuine, and directed solely at you.
Your steps faltered for half a second, not from nerves, but from how sharply the moment hit.
And then you saw his parents.
His motherâs eyes softened instantly. His fatherâs face broke into a quiet and proud smile.
They didnât look shocked by their sonâs expression, they looked relieved and grateful. As if they had waited years to see someone pull warmth out of Jungkook. As if your presence proved that he would finally have a life they wanted him to have.
They were happy to know that their son, Jungkook, would never be spending the rest of his life alone.
You kept walking towards the altar.
Every step made Jungkookâs smile widen, a rare sight he didnât bother to hide.Â
He didnât blink or avert his gaze.Â
To everyone else, he remained the intimidating face of generational power and wealth. To you, he looked like he has been waiting his entire life for this exact version of you.
For this exact moment of the both of you.
When you reached the altar, your mother kissed your cheek, and whispered, âBe happy,â to the both of you, before placing your hand into his.
Jungkookâs fingers closed around yours immediately, as he nodded towards your mom.
âYouâre here,â he said, âand you look ethereal,â he continued, complimenting you under his breath.
You shyly smiled at him before raising your eyebrows, âDid you think I would change my mind?â
âNo,â Jungkook replied confidently, âyouâre not the type to run from anything.â
The officiant began the ceremony, but Jungkook didnât look away, not even once.Â
He watched you like he was memorizing this exact moment in his mind, every breath, every shift, and every flicker of emotion on your face.
When it was time for the vows, Jungkook moved slightly closer.
âJeon Jungkook,â the officiant began, âdo you,â
âI do,â he answered immediately before the officiant could even finish the question.
You could hear a few guests laughing softly.
You tilted your head, âShouldnât you hear the rest of the question?â
âI donât need him to finish, I would be honored to be your husband,â Jungkook replied, earning a few âawwâ from the crowd.Â
When the officiant repeated the line with your name, you answered without hesitation, âI do.â
Jungkookâs shoulders eased in an exhale he didnât bother hiding.
The rings came next. Jungkookâs hands didnât shake, but yours did slightly. And the officiant said the final line, âI now pronounce you husband and wife!â
Jungkook didnât wait for permission that he may kiss you now, and he pulled you in closer to him. But he didnât kiss you immediately, either.
First, he leaned in, pressed his forehead against yours, âFinally,â he murmured. Then, after that, he kissed you, and the crowd erupted into applause.
When you pulled back, Jungkookâs face was still inches away from yours when he said, âYouâre mine.â
âAnd youâre mine,â you replied.
His parents smiled at the sight of the two of you.
Relieved and proud, because their son, the one who lived inside an armor his whole life with walls built up so high, was finally home with you.Â
The reception was still formal and huge, but it felt warmer somehow. You stood beside Jungkook as friends, colleagues, distant cousins, directors, and business partners approached with respectful and rehearsed congratulatory lines. Jungkook responded politely, but with visible impatience each time someone lingered too long.
Halfway through the guest, he leaned slightly closer, âYou look tired.â
You scoffed softly, âThere are seven hundred people here.â
âAnd youâve looked at none of them.â
You lifted your eyes to his, âHave you?â
âNo, I only have eyes for you,â he answered matter of factly, his gaze didnât waver and he added, âLetâs step outside.â
You didnât want to argue with him because you did need the space to breathe.
The two of you slipped through a side corridor. Jungkook opened a door leading to a balcony overlooking the city.
You exhaled once you stepped outside to the balcony.
He watched you quietly for a moment, âIs it all too much?â
âItâs a lot,â you admitted, âbut itâs not bad.â
âYou handled it well.â
âYou did too.â
He stepped closer, still looking at you, âI know you wanted something smaller.â
You looked up at him, âI knew this couldnât be small.â
âThere was a way to make it smaller,â he said, âI didnât want it.â
You were taken aback, you thought a person as private as Jungkook would want to make it smaller, âWhy?â
âSo everyone sees who I married,â Jungkook said, his eyes not leaving yours.
You let out a small laugh, âYou donât have to prove anything to anyone.â
âI know, Iâm not trying to prove anything,â Jungkook added, âIâm establishing it.â
You never stopped working after the wedding. That was the first boundary you set, one you made very clear even before you agreed to marry Jungkook.
You told him you would never be a full-time housewife, not because there was anything wrong with it, but because you had spent too many years building yourself back up from nothing.Â
And Jungkook never argued, he never even hesitated.
If anything, he expected it from you.
So when your contract at the startup ended, you moved into the Jeon business. The Jeon tried to tell you to just accept a position as a director, but you refused because you werenât experienced enough to become one and you told them you wanted to do it on your own.Â
So you applied, you went through every stage, from initial screening, panel interview, case assignment, and final interview. When the recruiter tried to fast-track you, you politely declined.Â
You werenât interested in being boosted into a high position you didnât deserve.
So you entered Jeon Retail as a junior associate. The pay was good, the pace was brutal, and the expectations were high. You kept your head down for a year, did the work, delivered the numbers, and handled the pressure well.Â
Then they promoted you to a senior role, one you clearly deserved and you were proud of it.
Jungkook was too. You could tell by the way he checked your reports sometimes, not to interfere, but because he liked knowing what you were working on. You used to catch him reading through your project decks in the evenings, impressed by your quality of work.
You have now settled into your routine as Mrs. Jeon.
Youâd wake up, go to work, go back home, and spend time with your husband.
It has been a perfect routine for you.
Until today.
You ignored it at first, you thought the uneasiness in your stomach was probably because of the bad breakfast you had. Then, halfway through reviewing a quarterly product performance, a wave of nausea hit so instantly that your hand flew to your mouth.
You stood up quickly, it made a loud enough sound that Kei, your coworker, at the next desk looked up.
âAre you okay?â she asked.
âYeah, I just need some air,â you said as you walked straight to the restroom and you just barely made it to the stall before you threw up.
It could have been food poisoning, stress, or just fatigue.
But you knew what it could be.
It has been a year of not preventing anything, a year of waiting for nothing to happen, and a year of telling yourself not to be disappointed.
You decided to clock out for lunch, grabbed your coat, and walked out of the building without telling anyone where you were going.
There was a convenience store just right across the street, the one you would buy your snacks for work from. You stepped inside quickly, headed down to the aisle, grabbed the test, paid without looking at the cashier, and walked back to the office with the small bag hidden under your blazer.
Once inside your office building, you went straight to the restroom again, locked the door, sat on the toilet seat, and forced yourself to calm down.
You didnât want to be disappointed again. It has been a year since your marriage and nothing since then has happened.Â
Then you took the test, one second passed.
Then five.
Then ten.
And you saw two clear lines.
You just stared at it.
You stared until your throat tightened and your chest was beating loudly, and your hand came up instinctively to cover your mouth.
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
You were so relieved but it hit you so suddenly that your body doesnât know what to do, how to respond, or how to act.
You stood carefully, splashed water on your face, dried your hands, and walked back to your desk, and your boss spotted you the second you sat down.
She frowned, âYou look pale.â
You forced a smile, âI think I'm just tired.â
âYou were vomiting earlier,â she cut you off before you could even finish your sentence, âyou should go back home.â
You blinked, âCan I really take the rest of the day?â
âYes,â she said, âgo.â
You nodded, gathered your things, and left quickly.
You werenât going back home, no. You needed to make sure what you saw was real. So you decided to head to a hospital.Â
Not to the Jeon hospital, you weren't stupid. If you stepped foot into a Jeon-owned medical center, four things would happen immediately:
Security would notify the administration.
Administration would notify the medical director.
The medical director would notify someone in Jungkookâs team.
Jungkookâs team would notify the Jeon Jungkook himself.
And you wanted him to hear it first from you, not from anyone else.
So you chose a small hospital in Seoul. A small one with no affiliations to the Jeon. Just a quiet clinic where no one looked at your face long enough to recognize it.
The doctor performed the test quickly, then she looked at you with a smile across her face, âCongratulations,â she said, âYouâre about five weeks pregnant.â
You left the hospital at around 2:30 PM with the ultrasound image inside your bag. You got in the taxi, leaned your head against the window, and kept your hand on your stomach the entire ride home.
You reached the penthouse around 3:00 PM. The housekeeper wasnât there, she only came in the mornings, per Jungkookâs preference for privacy.
Everything was quiet, and the master bedroom looked exactly the same as it did when you left that morning.
You walked in with one plan in mind:
You would prepare balloons and maybe a small sign saying, âWelcome home, dad!âÂ
But the moment you stepped into the room, another wave of nausea hit you so hard you had to grab the back of a chair.
You stumbled to the bathroom, threw up again, then dragged the trash bin to the side of the bed. The doctor said it was normal, but it didnât feel normal, it felt exhausting.
You didnât want to call Jungkook.
You knew exactly where he was. He told you he would be in a high-level of importance meeting with his father and all the major directors to finalize their Singapore expansion. It was an important project, one he has spent months preparing for.
He didnât need you interrupting it, especially not for something he couldnât fix immediately.
So you called Taehwan instead, âCan you please bring me the vitamins the doctor prescribed me? Iâll send you a picture of the prescription,â you asked.
âOf course,â he answered without asking any further questions, which was perfect since you really didnât want to have to explain yourself.
You hung up, laid on your bed, and closed your eyes.
Jungkook didnât notice the vibration on his phone until the board director stopped speaking.
Taehwan: Mrs. Jeon is unwell.
Jungkook stood up immediately, and half the room turned to look at him, startled. His father raised an eyebrow at his son, âJungkook?â
âItâs my wife,â Jungkook said, already gathering his things, âI need to go.â
âWhat happened with my daughter?â Mr. Jeon asked, everyone could even see even the chairman was worried.Â
âSheâs sick,â he said whispering to his father, Jungkook didnât want anyone irrelevant to know.Â
His father didnât question it further, Mr. Jeon lifted a hand dismissively and said, âGo.â
Jungkook didnât waste another second.
He was furious, not at you, but at the situation.
At the fact that you told Taehwan first and that you probably thought you didnât want to make Jungkook worried.
He knew why you did it. You didnât want to interrupt him, or pull him out of work. But he was your husband now, you were and will always be his priority.
The entire drive home, Jungkookâs hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and his jaw was clenched the whole time.
Taehwan thankfully has already put your medicines in the receptionist of your penthouse building, now Jungkook would know how to help you.
You must have drifted off for a few minutes, the nausea made you so tired, and the warmth of the blanket pressed against your body kept you even more sleepy.
Then the bedroom door opened, abruptly, without knocking which surprised you because Taehwan would not dare do such a thing.
You didnât lift your head, but still called out for him anyway, âTaehwan?â
And when you heard no immediate reply, you looked up slowly.
Jungkook stood there in the doorway, his tie loosened but still not removed, and his hair slightly disheveled like he rushed to be here.Â
You sighed, âDamn you, Taehwan.â
His right hand man is so loyal to him, he could never keep anything from Jungkook.
Jungkook ignored the comment completely. He walked inside the master bedroom, his eyes sweeping over the bed, your pale face, and the trash bin beside you, âHave you been throwing up?â
You nodded weakly, âPlease give me the meds.â
He didnât hand them over, instead he tried to get you to get up, âLetâs go to the hospital.â
âNo, Iâm fine, Jungkook.â
âYouâre not.â
âI am.â
âYouâre throwing up,â he said, eyes narrowing slightly, âand you look weak, get up.â
You shook your head, âI just need the medicine that Taehwan handed to you.â
He didnât budge, sit, or blink. He stood there looking at you like he was trying to analyze why you were sick, âWhy didnât you call me?â
You didnât want to answer.
âY/N,â Jungkookâs tone sharpened, âWhy didnât you call me?â
You swallowed nervously, âI didnât want to bother you.â
âYou would never bother me,â he answered instantly.Â
He stepped closer to the bed, âNext time,â he said, âyou call me first, before anyone, including Taehwan, before my parents or your mother. I donât care where I am or what Iâm doing. You have to call me first.â
You looked away, you didnât want to agree since Jungkook is literally the busiest man in South Korea for a reason.
âMrs. Jeon.â
And that made your head snap back towards him. He has only used that tone and title to call you once, and that was during one of the biggest fights youâve ever had with Jungkook.Â
You sighed, âOkay, understood baby.â
His expression softened instantly after he heard the last word you said to him, âGood,â he said quietly, ânow get up, Iâm taking you to the hospital.â
You pushed yourself slightly to sit upright, âYou seriously donât need to.â
âWhy?â he asked, âyouâre clearly sick.â
âBecause,â you hesitated as your hand reached for your bag automatically, âbecause Iâm pregnant.â
The room went silent. You pulled the ultrasound image from your bag and held it out for him with shaky fingers.
Jungkook didnât move for a full second, then he stepped forward slowly to take the ultrasound image you were holding.Â
He looked at the image and his breath stopped.
Jungkook didnât speak, his mouth didnât fall open. The reaction was more subtle than that, but he also wasnât smiling or saying anything.
And that scared you.
Because you knew Jungkook before the wedding. You remembered the confession he once told you, âI donât know if I should have children. I donât want them to turn out like me.â
But then the past year, your marriage life happened. And Jungkook somehow already has ideas of turning a guest room into a nursery, and looked at stroller models with the same focus he puts in for business acquisitions.Â
So him being silent after looking at the ultrasound scan terrified you.
âAre you upset?â you asked him.
Still nothing.
Until he finally said, âIâm sorry.â
You looked at him confused, âWhy are you sorry?â
He turned the ultrasound around so you could see the scan, and said, with complete seriousness, âBecause youâre sick because of this little cunt.â
Your mouth fell open, âIâm sorry, did you just call our kid a cunt?â
âYes,â he didnât even blink, "you're sick because of them,â Jungkook continued, âand you are my priority.â
You wanted to laugh but you held it in, âArenât you happy?â
His eyes looked into yours, âOf course Iâm happy, but not when youâre sick.â
You finally stopped trying to hold your laugh, âYou can not hate our kid.â
âHate?â he repeated, looking offended, âI love them already.â
You blinked, âThen why did you call them a cunt?â
âBecause theyâre making you sick,â he said, âand nothing gets to hurt you, nothing.â
You shook your head, overwhelmed, âThatâs not, you know itâs normal, Jungkook.â
He ignored that completely.
He moved closer to the bed, then he lowered himself onto one knee beside you. Jungkook rested one hand on the mattress beside your hip. The other hovered over your stomach before he finally placed it there gently.Â
âBut they should not be a burden to you,â he said quietly, âthey should not make their mother sick, they should not make my wife pale and throw up, which also means,â he continued, âI need to admit you at the hospital.â
âJungkook," you rolled your eyes at him.
He leaned forward and kissed your stomach. The moment lasted longer than you expected. When he pulled back, he quickly stood up and looked down at you, âNext time something feels off, you tell me. Immediately.â
You nodded, âOkay. Can I ask something?â you whispered.
He tilted his head slightly, âHmm?â
You sat up carefully, âYouâre not upset?â
He blinked at you, âWhy would I be upset?â
âYou were quiet when I told you the news.â
âI was calculating.â
âCalculating what?â you asked confusedly.Â
He looked at you then, âHow fast I needed to reorganize my life and how to keep both of you safe.â
This time, a tear fell before you could stop it, âHormones,â you mumbled.
He didnât argue or tease you like he usually would do, he just nodded once before kissing your forehead.Â
Most people soften when becoming parents.
Jungkook didnât just soften, he found a new purpose.
And that made you feel safer than anything else in the world.
hii author i hope youâll give oc and jungkook the baby they deserve in cowf 𼚠also loved how you narrate jungkook in it how he loves his woman dearly and wouldnât exchange her for the world đ
aww thatâs so sweet 𼚠thank you so much! as for the baby⌠hehe, weâll see đ but they definitely deserve all the softness in the world
Genre: fantasy!au, demon!au, haunted apartment, horror (its not too bad bc im a coward guys), slow burn, forced proximity, supernatural romance, angst.
Summary: Jungkook is trapped in an attic, cursed to win affection from those who fear him most. Every tenant has fled until you move in. With your budget and patience on the line, you refuse to leave. Now youâre stuck sharing a space with a creature no priest, shaman, or exorcist can get rid of, and neither of you can escape.
Warnings: horror (things moving around and such), supernatural themes, slow burn, forced proximity, mild language.
Word count: 4824
a/n: Iâve been working on this first chapter since early October, and Iâm honestly so nervous as itâs my first time writing fantasy. and posting it right after the proximity is probably not a good idea because i know it'll never live up to it. But letâs see how this goes, if you end up liking it, i might just keep going <3
check out my: masterlist | banner creds to: vzzartt
The Hell Jungkook comes from does not burn with fire.Â
There are two kinds of Hell, Kratos and the below.
Kratos is where Jungkook comes from, itâs where the powerful live. While the below is where the lowlives and humans, known as the lesser, are. the below burns with the hottest flames.
The air in Kratos is heavy and thick, and you can often hear the screams of the lesser passing by to the below. Unlike the below, the ground in Kratos isnât covered in dirt, but covered with dark stone that glows faintly with red because of the heat that comes from underneath.Â
Kratos is divided into four areas with each ruled by one of the great citadels: the Jeon in the north, the Kim in the east, the Lee in the south, and the Min in the west.Â
Together they form Kratos, with each one holding its own laws, armies, and rituals.
And though the four families have ruled longer than memory, every demon knows the truth: in Kratos, nothing is permanent.Â
A citadel stands only as long as its ruler can defend it, and lineage means little here.
Every demon born within a citadel, even those not of its blood, carries the right to challenge its rulers. If they are strong enough, if they can make others kneel and fear, they can take the citadel for themselves.
At the center of North Kratos, stands the citadel of Jeon with its dark and tall towers cutting through the mist.
The walls were cold as ice and the gates were built from the bones of the first creatuere that ever died there.Â
It doesnât look like a home, it stands tall more like a reminder that in Kratos, you donât live unless you learn how to survive.
The demons who ruled in Kratos werenât born into power, they had to fight for it.Â
Every stone in the citadel of Jeon was taken from someone else, every tower was built on the ruins of anotherâs fall.
From the moment he was born, everyone thought Jungkook was not meant to rule as he was the second son and was treated like such.Â
But even in Hell, power gravitates toward those who can command without trying.
Jungkook came from the same mother as his brother, Seokjin. But while Seokjin speaks in riddles and enjoys threatening others with his words, Jungkook says nothing at all.
And that silence is more unnerving in Hell than any words could.Â
After more than a thousand years of rule, the first crack in the Jeon empire began with its two sons.
Soon the others started watching Jungkook in training yards, and copying how he moved.Â
Power in Kratos wasnât passed down, it was drawn from fear. The more others feared you, the more the air bent around your name.
At first, people believed the next ruler would be Seokjin, but the strength of the citadels were built on the energy of fear, and when fear began to shift from Seokjin to Jungkook, the balance of Kratos tilted with it.
Seokjin noticed the change before anyone dared speak of it. The others began to look at his brother differently, with more fear and respect.
The first son understood what that meant.Â
So he did what every future ruler would do when the balance starts to slip and before the energy of the citadel starts to turn towards his younger brother.Â
Seokjin turned to and relied on the oldest ritual only the ruler families could recite.Â
The brothers met as they always did every Wednesday, quietly and without guards.
Just the two of them, a bottle of wine between them, and the coldness coming from the fortress walls.
Jungkook took the first sip. It burned at first, as it usually does, then it softened into sweetness.
Itâs the sensation of the best wine in Kratos.Â
Before he could set the cup down, a strange warmth began to crawl up his throat. Jungkook felt his pulse slowing down, and the room started to tilt and blurred.
Across the table, Seokjin watched him. His brother was too still and calm.Â
Jungkook now noticed that his brother hasnât touched his own wine glass.
When Jungkookâs hands began to shake, Seokjin stood up and started to murmur words that took a moment too long for Jungkook to understand.
It was the ancient language of the Gods in Heaven. A language only the families of rulers in Kratos could learn.
His brother was reciting one of the oldest rituals to ever exist in this realm. Seokjin was about to send him to earth, which Jungkook knew by now.
Seokjin cut his palm open, letting blood drip to the floor as he traced marks around Jungkook, one after another.
When the last mark crossed Jungkookâs chest, Seokjin knelt beside him. Their faces were close, but when one brother twisted with pain, the other almost serene.
âKilling you would be too kind,â Seokjin whispered, âso Iâll give you a taste of eternity on earth instead.â
Then, he spoke of the curse that will bind his brother to earth:
âOnly when fear becomes affection will the darkness find its freedom.â
The chamber walls were shaking as if the citadel has been struck by a storm. There were mists forming in the chamber, and Jungkookâs form began to distort.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was no longer red but gray. Jungkook was lying on a cold floor made of wood, not stone.Â
The room was small, with only a single bed, a broken mirror, and floorboards that creaked whenever he breathed.
The curse has bound Jungkook here, it has anchored him to this one decaying space on earth.
Where once his dark and wide wings could cover kingdoms, now brushed against peeling wallpaper.
Jungkook pushed himself to his feet and tried to break through the wall. Every time he reached beyond the walls, his body turned to smoke and snapped back, reforming at the center of the attic.
For the first time since his creation, he understood what it meant to be contained.
Jungkook went to the door and tried the handle, but his hand slipped through the wood.Â
He tried again and again, and each attempt ended the same way.
He was trapped.
He tried to burn the room down with the little strength he had left. Fire sparked in his palms, yet it died before they could even burn anything.
The effort left him empty as if the curse was swallowing his will whole.
Jungkook thought of his followers, but mere demons couldnât just step into the human world.
The line between Hell and Earth was sealed in both directions. To cross, they needed the ancient ritual done by the ruling families. There was no other access.Â
And no ordinary demons would dare request of such a thing from the ruling families. They would not be able to reach him. They would not be able to drag him back.Â
In the citadel, the king, Jungkookâs father, did not interfere.
The king has always been careful with his sons, out of discipline. He did not play favorites in public, he did not correct or even cared about their rivalries. He did not step into their politics.
He ruled his citadel, not children, but he has always liked Jungkook better.
The thing is, the king could see the future.
He had seen what would happen if he stepped in, he had seen versions of reality where Jungkook never fell, and saw how all of them ended worse than this.
So he watched the curse unfold and did nothing.
No order was given to stop the ritual or to pull the second son back from whatever place it would send him. The king turned his face away from what was happening, and let fate take its role.
As one of the most powerful demons in Kratos, Jungkook was feared by thousands of creatures of every form, and donât even mention the lowly humans.Â
A single glimpse of him, his horns, his wings, and his eyes, was enough to drive humans to their knees, begging for their lives.
Seokjin knew what he was invoking when he recited fear into affection.Â
It was a curse designed to fail.
Jungkookâs horns curved from his temples, his wings stretched wide and black, and his eyes were shades of red and black.
Even here, trapped in the attic, humans could sense him. The air thickened and somehow feels colder when they come closer.Â
The first human to rent the attic arrived in the middle of a storm.
Jungkook felt him enter the building before he heard the key in the lock. Human energy was different, it was so soft and always close to breaking.
The man dragged a single trunk up the stairs, muttering about leaky roofs and cheap rent, he opened the door, stepped inside, and froze.
Jungkook stood by the window, he didnât move, speak, or bother to appear more real.Â
The man turned, squinting his eyes, as if trying to focus on something. His gaze looked over to Jungkook once, twice, then stopped close enough to feel him.
The fear hit fast.
His breath stopped and the trunk he was holding fell. His hand fumbled for the doorknob and he just ran down the stairs, out into the rain and the storm.
By morning, the owner of the house put up a new sign in front of the house:Â
Cheap room available.
And that became the pattern.
The humans come and go, the longest they have lasted was a month. They could feel the cold that lingered no matter how high they turned up the heater. They noticed doors that didnât stay shut or objects that werenât where they left them.Â
Some felt a presence.
Some even saw him from their peripheral view.
All of them, eventually, reached to the point where the weight of their fear became too much.
One night, a woman laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Tears slipping into her hair, soaking the pillow she laid against. She held an envelope against her chest and kept whispering sorry, over and over again, to no one in particular.Â
Jungkook couldnât help but say, âPathetic,â out loud, letting the human hear him.
She froze, turned her head, her eyes roamed the darkness in her room, and caught on the faint shape of him.
The moment she realized she wasnât imagining it, when she felt him, terror rushed through her.
She left before the sun came up, still in her nightgown, and shoes clutched in one hand.
Her things stayed behind for a while.
She has sent someone else to pack them up. The owners then muttered about bad luck, about the cursed attic, about how they should just seal it off, but they never did.Â
There was always someone who needed cheap rent.
Outside, the world has slowly changed. Carts became cars. Neon signs painted the streets in colors he has never seen in Hell. The sounds changed too, there was less shouting, more engines, then music, and then something new entirely.
The room tried to keep up, then gave up. The owners and tenants kept on changing. The iron bed was replaced with a lighter frame. The old floral wallpaper was peeled off, and now covered with white paint. The mirror on the wall was swapped out a few times, each one more minimalistic than the last.
Jungkook would take a look at himself in those mirrors. His horns curled from his head and his wings folded close. The contrast between his size and the cramped, ordinary human room made everything feel even smaller.
The more modern tenants kept coming. A musician who complained about âbad acoustics.â A student who hung string lights on the wall and joked to her friends over the phone about how âthis place feels haunted but the rent is unbelievably cheap.â
He could tell, almost immediately, who would leave quickly and who would try to make this place a home. The ones who moved furniture in, who lit candles, and the ones who stuck photographs to the wall lasted a little longer. But in the end, the same pattern found them.
The cold, uneasiness, and the feeling of being watched.
Fear would find them again.
Jungkook no longer hopes to be rescued anymore. He knew the soldiers couldnât reach him, and knew his father had seen this coming and chose not to interfere.Â
He used to be feared by thousands, now he haunted a space smaller than his old bedroom closet.Â
Jungkook found it funny now, in a bitter way.Â
Looking at fear in humans and how they react was the only thing that helped him with boredom, so Jungkook started to play with it.Â
When new tenants moved in, he would let them settle for a few days before making his presence known. A whisper when they were half asleep, showing a shadow of himself, making the floorboards creak when no one was walking, and moving their items from one place to another. Small, harmless things, but enough to twist the air and make their hearts race.
Sometimes he would knock a picture off the wall or rattle the window when the wind wasnât strong enough to do it. Once, he traced words in the dust across the mirror, leave now, and laughed quietly when the woman screamed and ran.Â
Jungkook felt pathetic.
He went from nearly ruling North Kratos to haunting a room no bigger than a cell in Kratos, scaring mortals who couldnât even see him clearly.
There were nights when he didnât bother to move at all. He would sit by the window, watching people move around, wondering if the curse could ever be broken.Â
Youâve been working as an elementary school teacher for first graders for the past two years.
You love your job, the kids you teach, the coworkers who have become your closest friends, even the parents who bring you homemade brownies during parent-teacher meetings.
The only thing you absolutely despise is the commute.
Every morning you wake up two hours earlier than you should just to make it to school on time, and the exhaustion is starting to kill your enthusiasm.Â
Some mornings, the idea of resigning doesnât sound so bad.
âYou canât just quit because of the commute,â Hoseok groaned through the phone, âwhat about me and Namjoon? Youâre just going to abandon your precious coworkers?â
You rolled your eyes, moving through the crowd on your way to your next destination, âI told you Iâm literally on my way to see a house with a studio in their attic, which is walking distance, literally only fifteen minutes away from school. Iâm trying, okay? For the both of you.â
âThatâs what I wanted to hear!â he half yelled, his voice nearly bursting through your earphones.
Hoseok taught another first-grade class and joined the school the same year as you, while Namjoon handled the second graders. The three of you often spent lunch breaks in the teachersâ lounge together, sharing gossip about the parents youâve heard from your students and complaining about lesson plans.
âIâm almost there,â you said, glancing at the address on your phone, âif itâs good news, Iâll call you later. If not, Iâm resigning and moving to the countryside.â
âYou are not!â Hoseok began, but you hung up before he could even finish his sentence. You sent him a middle finger emoji before putting your phone in your jeans pocket, and looking up at what you hoped would be your new home.
The Victorian-style house stood at the end of a quiet street, its white paint faintly yellowed with age. The front yard was small but tidy with a chipped white picket fence. It looked old, yes, but you preferred to see it as lived in.Â
You spotted a middle-aged couple tending to their garden next door and waved politely.
âHello!â you greeted them.
âOh, hello! Are you the new tenant?â the woman asked.
âJust here for an inspection,â you said with a smile.
âTaehyung should be inside,â her husband said, setting down his watering can, âwe hope to see you around.â
You thanked them and made your way up the porch, knocking twice on the dark blue front door.
It opened to reveal a young man, probably around your age, maybe a little older, with dark hair and a smile across his face. He looked exactly like his profile picture from the listing.
âHi, you must be ____. Iâm Taehyung,â he greeted warmly.
âHi! Yeah, thanks for having me. Iâm here to check out the studio upstairs?â
âOf course. Come in, come in. How was the trip here? Was it easy to find?â
You stepped inside, slipping off your shoes near the entryway, âYeah, it was super easy. The bus stop is like five minutes away, itâs perfect.â
âGood to hear,â Taehyung said, leading you through the shared living area, âthis is the living room, a communal space, so feel free to hang out here anytime. We usually have movie nights on Fridays.â
You chuckled as your eyes scanned the room with warm lighting, mismatched furniture, and a pile of PlayStation games stacked beside the TV.Â
He continued, guiding you towards the open plan kitchen and dining area, âKitchenâs fully stocked, we have air fryer, coffee machine, matcha set, you name it. We just ask that everyone cleans up after themselves.â
He gestured towards the backyard which was visible through the sliding glass doors, âNot much out there yet, some people keep telling me to build a patio for parties, but Iâm not really a party person.â
âIt looks like a nice spot to read,â you said without thinking.
Taehyungâs smile widened, âThatâs exactly what I do. Just grab a chair and a book.â
âMaybe we could add a little couch out there, it would be perfect for reading in the mornings.â
âGreat idea,â he said, his eyes lighting up with approval before clapping his hands together, âalright, now for the part you actually came for. Letâs check out your potential studio.â
You followed him back towards the entryway where a narrow staircase curved upward. The steps creaked lightly under your weight as you walked up.
âThe upstairs space used to be smaller, it was mostly an attic but apparently people rented it out as a bedroom since long ago as itâs big enough to be one,â Taehyung explained, âbut we renovated it into a studio last year, the flooring and ceiling have been completely changed, the bathroomâs modern, and thereâs good insulation, so you wonât freeze in winter.â
At the top of the stairs, he pushed open a white door and stepped aside for you to enter.
The space was surprisingly cozy, a single wide room, sunlight spilling through the windows. A kitchenette sat tucked in one corner, with a compact fridge and just enough counter space for one person. And the air smelled faintly of fresh paint and something else you couldnât name.
You tried not to wrinkle your nose, probably the pipes, you told yourself.
âItâs nice,â you said, walking across the room to peek into the adjoining bathroom, "really nice, actually.â
Taehyung leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a grin, âI know the rent seems low for the area, but honestly, I just prefer good tenants over profit. Weâve had some people come and go.â
You raised an eyebrow, âCome and go?â
He laughed, waving his hand dismissively, âNothing bad! Just people who moved for work or relationships. You know how it is.â
You nodded, but something about the way he said it made you look around the room again. The studio was bright enough, but the corner near the window felt oddly colder than the rest.Â
Still, it was hard to deny the convenience or the price.
âIâll take it,â you said finally, turning back to him with a small, excited smile.
Taehyungâs grin widened, âPerfect. Welcome to 306 Surry Street.â
For a split second, as he said it, you thought you saw something flicker in his expression.
And for the first time that day, you wondered if you just made a mistake.
You moved into 306 Surry St a week later, with Hoseok and Namjoon insisting on helping even though you told them repeatedly that you didnât own much.
âThatâs a lie,â Hoseok groaned dramatically, setting down another box beside your bed frame, âyou have so many books. Who are these for? Your students or your next life?â
âTheyâre my emotional support books,â you replied, âsome people go to therapy. I reread The Little Princeâ
Namjoon, who has been assembling your IKEA desk on the floor, looked up with a chuckle, âCanât believe you need help assembling an IKEA desk.â
âYeah, because IKEA instructions are written by demons,â you shot back, pulling out a neatly folded pile of sweaters from a box, transferring it into the wardrobe near the bathroom door.
You started hanging up your work blouses first, then your coats. By the time you finished folding your jeans into the bottom drawer, Hoseok has already taken over unboxing your kitchen things.
âOkay, so you own three mugs, three plates, and exactly two forks and spoons," he said in disbelief.
âI live alone, Hoseok.â
He gasped, âTragic. Iâm buying you another set of cutleries.â
By early evening, the major unpacking was done, your bed was made, the bookshelves were filled, and your coffee corner was arranged neatly with instant packets. Namjoon found an outlet for your lamp, Hoseok managed to untangle all your charging cords, and together they carried the last of the flattened cardboard boxes downstairs.
When they came back up, Taehyung was waiting near the stairs with a smile, âEverything coming together okay?â
âYeah,â you said, brushing dust off your hands, âItâs actually perfect. Thanks again, Taehyung.â
He nodded, âIâll order takeout later, my treat for my new tenant.â
The three of you agreed immediately. While waiting for the food, you started arranging little things like sticking Polaroids on the wall with tape, stacking notebooks beside your bed, and sliding your rug a few inches to center it under the table.
âNow it looks lived in,â Hoseok said approvingly, sitting down on the rug and opening a can of soda, âwe did good.â
Namjoon leaned against the wall, observing the room with a satisfied smile, âCould use a splash of color, though.â
You gave him a glare, âYou sound like Hoseok.â
Hoseok threw a pillow at you in response, âIâm right here.â
Hoseok and Namjoon left just after dinner, you walked them out to the car, waving as they drove away before heading back upstairs.
The studio was quiet again.Â
The sound of the fridge was the only sound filling the silence. You turned on a playlist, then began unpacking the smaller boxes you havenât touched earlier, the stationeries, journals, and a few framed photos.Â
You placed one photo on your desk, a picture of you, Hoseok, and Namjoon smiling outside the school gates.
After a long day, you finally sat down on the edge of your bed, looking around at the almost finished room. It wasnât perfect, but it still felt like yours.
As you reached for your mug to drink the water you poured for yourself, you paused, because somehow, it was sitting perfectly centered on the table with the handle turned neatly towards you.
You blinked at it for a moment, then sighed, too tired to think much of it, âYouâre just exhausted,â you muttered to yourself.
You changed into your pajamas, turned off the light, and climbed into bed.Â
And as you drifted toward sleep, you thought to yourself, tomorrow, it will really feel like home.
By late Sunday afternoon, you finally met your other housemates. You just finished cleaning up the kitchen after heavy cooking which you couldnât do in the studio, when you heard footsteps and a door creak open behind you.
A sleepy voice followed, âSmells good in here.â
You turned to see a man with dark hair walking into the kitchen, wearing an oversized hoodie and shorts.
âOh, hey,â you greeted, âsorry, I used the kitchen earlier. Iâm ____, the new tenant upstairsâ
He nodded, yawning while introducing himself, âYoongi.â
He didnât say anything else for a moment, just opened a cabinet, pulled out a mug, and poured himself coffee from the coffee machine. Then, after a pause, he pointed lazily at your containers stacked on the counter, âYou meal prep?â
âYeah,â you said with a small laugh, âIf I donât, Iâll end up eating instant noodles all week.â
Before he could say anything else, you could hear another voice, âYoongi, youâre actually awake? Miracles do happen.â
You looked over your shoulder to see another man walking into the kitchen, with all messy blond hair. He carried an energy that immediately filled the room.Â
âDonât start, Jimin,â Yoongi muttered, sipping his coffee.
Jimin turned to you with an eager smile, âOh! You must be _____, the new tenant. Taehyung mentioned someone was moving into the studio upstairs. Iâm Jimin.â
You shook his hand, smiling at him, âNice to meet you. Sorry if I made too much noise this morning.â
âPlease,â he laughed, âthis place creaks on its own even when no oneâs moving, youâre fine.â
You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, âGood to know.â
The three of you ended up staying in the kitchen longer than expected. And Taehyung eventually joined in a loose T-shirt, holding a tray of fruit.
You woke up before your alarm for once, the sunlight shining on your sheets.Â
It felt different waking up here, it feels quieter. No traffic could be heard outside, no neighbors slamming doors at odd hours.
You stretched your body, smiling to yourself as you remembered you had extra 90 minutes of sleep since the school is now walking distance.
You dressed in your usual work clothes and brewed coffee in the small kitchen of your studio. The kitchen space was tiny but had a charm of its own, you could move from the counter to the sink in a single step.
You sipped it slowly by the window, eyes tracing the quiet street below.Â
For once, the commute wouldnât mean waking up at dawn and running for the bus. You would be able to walk to school, maybe even grab a croissant from that little bakery you passed last week, the thought alone made you smile.
After breakfast, you packed your lunch, checked your bag twice, and grabbed your keys. Taehyung was already in the living room, scrolling on his tablet. He looked up at you and smiled, âHeading to work?â
âYeah,â you said, slipping your shoes on, âfirst short commute in two years. I might actually have time to stop for croissants.â
âYou look way too happy about that,â he laughed, âgood luck with the kids.â
âThanks,â you replied, waving as you left.
The walk to school took exactly thirteen minutes. You could have cried from how easy the commuting is now.Â
You even passed by the bakery, grabbed a pastry, and still arrived early enough to set up your classroom before the first bell.
The day went smoothly, the kids were cheerful, the lessons flowed easily, and even your least cooperative student seemed to be in a good mood. You found yourself humming while cleaning up after class, it finally felt like life was finally peaceful again.
You got home late as you had dinner with the other teachers, and when you arrived, the house was unusually quiet that night.
By the time you reached upstairs, the clock on your wall showed 10:42 PM. You brushed your teeth, changed into your oversized shirt, and climbed into bed.
You didnât realize when you drifted off.
Your thoughts blurred, and for the first time ever, your mind wasnât running a mile a minute about lesson plans, grading, or groceries.Â
But at some point in the night, you stirred awake.
It wasnât because of noise, there wasnât any. The air just felt different, colder, and thicker somehow. You blinked slowly, still half awake, your eyes adjusting to the dim light from the window.
And thatâs when you saw a figure, tall, broad-shouldered, with what looked like wings behind him standing across the room. Not moving, just there.
At first, your mind didnât register the fear you felt.Â
You were too drowsy, still halfway between dreaming and reality.Â
You blinked again, trying to focus, but just like that, it was gone.
You sat up slowly, staring at the corner where the figure stood.Â
You rubbed your eyes. Maybe you were dreaming, you were tired. And it wasnât like the studio had the best lighting at night.Â
You laid back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin, and finally falling asleep after doing the breathing method the school psychologist taught you.
For the first time since you moved in, you didnât feel alone.
Summary: He was a commoner, a blacksmith in the palace, unnoticed by most, yet completely devoted to her her beauty, kindness, and heart a guiding light. Every action he took, every subtle move, was for her safety, respect, and well-being. Love made him cunning, precise, and dangerous. In a palace full of whispers and cruelty, his quiet, hidden fury was about to rise, proving that even someone without title could strike with unstoppable force when driven by love and obsession.
Word Count: 19.8k
1 2 3
Note: You can read this without reading the previous chapters.
The night had been heavy with rain. It fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the tiled roofs and filling the air with a low, mournful rhythm. The world outside was swallowed by darkness, broken only by the flicker of lanterns swaying in the stormâs breath.
Inside a small wooden house at the edge of the village, an old woman stirred in her sleep. The wind howled through the cracks, and then a sound, faint at first. Not the cry of an animal or the groan of shifting wood, but something softer, fragile. A whimper.
Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she thought it a dream. But there it was again a distant, muffled cry, carried by the rain. She pushed aside her thin blanket and lit a small lamp, shielding the flame from the wind that seeped through the gaps. She stepped out into the storm, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders.
She followed the sound hesitant at first, then with growing urgency. The cry grew clearer, desperate, fragile against the roar of the rain.
And then she saw it.
There, beneath the withered tree at the corner of her garden, lay a small bundle wrapped in a soaked blanket. The paper tied to it fluttered weakly in the wind, half torn, the ink bleeding from the rain.
The old woman knelt, her breath catching in her chest. She pulled the blanket back slightly and froze.
A baby.
The childâs face was pale from the cold, cheeks flushed faintly pink, tiny fists trembling as she whimpered. Her eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, shimmered like dark pools beneath the dim light. The old womanâs heart clenched. She lifted the baby into her arms, tucking the blanket tighter, pressing the small body against her chest to share her warmth.
The note slipped from the cloth and fell into her lap. She picked it up, smoothing the wet paper carefully, squinting at the smeared writing.
âPlease take care of her.â
That was all it said no name, no clue, no trace of who had left her there. Only those words, fragile as the babyâs breath.
The old woman looked down at the child again. The rain eased slightly, softening into a whisper. The baby blinked up at her, as though searching for something in the wrinkled face above her.
âOh, my poor little one,â the old woman whispered, her voice breaking. âWho would leave you out here in this cruel storm?â
The baby stirred, letting out a small, helpless cry. And in that sound soft, trembling, alive the old woman felt something stir inside her too.
She held the baby closer, her hands trembling not from the cold but from something deeper. âHush now,â she murmured, rising slowly to her feet. âYouâre safe now. Iâve got you.â
The little lamp flickered, throwing golden light over the small room as the woman laid the baby near the fire, wrapping her in dry cloth. The flames danced, casting warmth over the childâs round cheeks, and for the first time that night, the crying stopped.
The old woman looked down at her, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. âI suppose the heavens have sent you to me,â she whispered softly. âAnd so I shall call you⌠Y/N.â
Outside, the storm began to quiet, as though even the rain had paused to listen. The night that began with thunder now settled into silenceâa silence that marked not an ending, but a beginning.
And so it was, on that storm-drenched midnight, that Y/N entered the world found not by blood, but by fate.
The small house on the hill now basked under the soft warmth of spring, the fields around it rippling with tender green shoots and the scent of blooming wildflowers. Inside the garden, laughter rang out bright and bubbling, the kind that only belonged to children.
Now four years old, little Y/N ran barefoot across the narrow stone path, her small hands clutching a wooden pinwheel that spun furiously in the wind. Her short hair bounced with each step, and her cheeks, flushed with sunshine, glowed like peaches.
âGrandma, look! Itâs flying!â she squealed, her voice carrying through the air as she turned to show the old woman behind her.
Grandma Sun-hee her silver hair neatly tied, eyes crinkling with affection stood near the porch, sweeping the front steps. âCareful, little one,â she called gently. âYouâll fall if you run like that!â
But Y/N was far too enchanted by the spinning toy to listen. She lifted the pinwheel high, laughing as it caught a stronger gust of wind. âItâs flying! Just like the bird we saw yesterday!â
âBirds have wings, my darling. That toy does not,â Sun-hee replied, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless.
Y/N twirled againâand in her excitement, her foot caught the edge of a stone. She tumbled forward with a startled gasp, landing with a soft thud on the grass. The pinwheel rolled away, spinning lazily to a stop.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then came a tiny sniffle.
âAhâŚâ The old woman sighed, dropping her broom and hurrying over. âWhat did Granny say, hmm?â
Y/N sat up slowly, her eyes wide, lip trembling as she inspected her scraped knee. âIt hurtsâŚâ she whispered, voice quivering.
Sun-hee knelt beside her, brushing stray grass from the childâs hair. âOf course it hurts. Thatâs what happens when little rabbits forget to watch where they hop,â she said kindly, pulling a small handkerchief from her sleeve.
âIâm not a rabbit,â Y/N protested, sniffling again. âIâm Y/N.â
The old woman chuckled, dabbing gently at the small scrape. âOh? Then why do you hop and tumble just like one?â
That made Y/N pout, her tiny brows knitting together. âBecause⌠because the ground was mean,â she declared with sudden conviction, pointing at the offending stone. âIt tripped me!â
âThe ground, hmm?â Sun-hee pretended to frown at it. âAish, how naughty. Should I scold it for hurting my little one?â
Y/Nâs eyes brightened instantly. âYes!â she said, nodding eagerly, forgetting her pain.
The old woman tapped the stone lightly with her broom handle. âYou hear me, ground? Donât you dare trip my Y/N again.â
Y/N giggled, clapping her tiny hands in delight. âIt said sorry!â she announced solemnly.
Sun-hee smiled, brushing her thumb against Y/Nâs cheek. âGood. Now, shall we make it all better with some honey tea?â
At once, the little girlâs face lit up. âAnd rice cakes too?â
The old woman chuckled. âAnd rice cakes too.â
Y/N scrambled to her feet, clutching her pinwheel again. She looked up at her grandmother with those bright, trusting eyes the same eyes that had looked up at her through rain and darkness years ago. âGrandma,â she said suddenly, tugging at her sleeve. âWhen I grow up, Iâll make tea for you every day. Just like you do for me!â
Sun-heeâs heart softened, the corners of her eyes glistening with quiet affection. âThen Iâll look forward to that day, my little bird,â she said, resting a hand on the childâs head.
The two of them walked back toward the house, hand in hand the old womanâs steps slow, the childâs skipping beside her, laughter spilling like sunlight over the quiet countryside.
At eight years old, Y/N came running into the small house, her little footsteps heavy and uneven on the wooden floor. The door creaked as she pushed it open, tears already spilling down her flushed cheeks. She didnât stop to remove her shoes or speak a word she ran straight into her room, her quiet sobs muffled by the small pillow she buried her face into.
The old woman was sitting by the hearth, mending a torn sleeve when she heard the door slam. Her brow creased in worry, she set aside the needle and rose slowly.
She knocked gently on the door before stepping in, her heart aching at the sight of her little girl curled up on the bed, trembling. âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart?â she asked softly, coming to sit beside her.
Y/N didnât answer at first. She just shook her head, her fists rubbing her eyes, leaving streaks of tears across her cheeks. âTheyââ her voice broke, âthey said mean things.â
Granny Soo frowned slightly and brushed Y/Nâs hair back from her damp face. âWho did, my dear?â
âThe girls⌠from the riverbank.â Y/Nâs voice cracked again. âThey said⌠they said my parents didnât want me. That they left me because I wasnât good enough.â Her lips quivered as she whispered, âIs that true, Grandma?â
The old woman felt her heart tighten painfully. For a long moment, she couldnât speak. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for Y/N, pulling her into her arms. âOh, my little one,â she murmured, her voice low and full of warmth, âdonât you ever believe what cruel tongues say.â
âBut⌠why donât I have parents like them?â Y/N asked in a small, broken voice.
Grandma hesitated, her gaze distant for a moment, as if the memory of that stormy night long ago still lingered in her mind the sound of the rain, the soft wail of a baby on her doorstep. Finally, she took a deep breath and said gently, âYour parents⌠theyâre with God now, child. Watching over you from above. They couldnât stay here, but they loved you enough to make sure youâd be safe.â
Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears on Grandmaâs sleeve. âSo⌠they didnât leave me because they didnât want me?â
âNo,â Granny Soo whispered, kissing the top of her head. âThey gave you to me so that you would never be alone. And you never will be, do you hear me?â
The little girl nodded, her small hands clutching the front of the old womanâs worn dress.
Grandma smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened with tears. âYouâre my family, Y/N. My only one.â
Y/N looked up at her through watery eyes and whispered, âYouâre my family too, Grandma. My forever one.â
The old woman laughed softly, her voice trembling with love, and hugged the child tighter. âThatâs right, my sweet girl. Just you and me always.â
The fire crackled softly beside them, its glow wrapping the small house in warmth, and outside, the evening wind carried the faint scent of rain. In that quiet moment, they were all the family either of them needed.
Now fifteen, Y/N had grown into a bright and graceful young girl, lending her hands to the small tailoring shop her grandmother had run for years.
Grandma Soo, now seventy-eight and slower in her steps, had long been known in the village for her skill with a needle, stitching garments for anyone who came to her door.
Y/N now helped her with the work fetching materials, hemming sleeves, sorting fabrics, and chatting with the customers who adored her gentle manners. Their home always smelled faintly of fabric dye and herbal tea, and though life was modest, it was peaceful steady in its rhythm of morning stitching and evening storytelling.
That afternoon, the rhythmic hum of the stitching machine faltered, then broke with a dull crack. Y/N froze mid-seam, the thread snapping between her fingers. Grandma Soo sighed, adjusting her spectacles.
âAh, this old thingâs finally given up,â she murmured. âY/N, dear, youâll have to go to the ironworks shop by the market. Tell them we need a new one. And if itâs too heavy for you, ask the shopkeeper to send someone to carry it home. Iâll pay extra if needed.â
Y/N nodded, wiping her hands on her apron before setting off, her plait swinging gently behind her.
When she reached the blacksmithâs shop, she was greeted by the clang of metal and the smell of oil.
âAh, Miss Sooâs granddaughter!â the shopkeeper greeted her. âWhat brings you here, little one?â
âOur machineâs broken,â she explained politely.
The shopkeeper sighed, scratching his chin. âI have one. Bit heavy, though. Costs a few won more than before metal prices went up.â
âThatâs okay,â Y/N said quickly, opening her purse. She carefully unfolded the bills, straightened them out, and slid them across the counter.
He took the money, counted it, then waved her off. âItâs in the back. Iâll have one of the boys bring it out.â
Y/N nodded, glancing past him into the shadowed workshop. âUm⌠could someone maybe carry it to our house too? Itâs a bit far, and I canât lift that much weight. I will pay extra.â
The man barked out a small laugh, shaking his head. âPay extra. Whatâs a little girl like you doing carrying a whole machine anyway?â
âI just thoughtââ she started, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
âForget it. You donât need to pay extra.â His tone softened, and he leaned over the counter. âHey, Jungkook!â he called toward the back, his voice echoing through the clangs of iron and steel.
The sound of hammering stopped, and after a few seconds, someone stepped out from behind the shelves wiping his hands on a rag, soot streaking across his cheek.
âThat boy,â the shopkeeper said, nodding toward him. âHeâll carry it for you. Jungkook, help her take the machine to Sooâs place.â
Y/N turned, and that was when she saw him for the first time. A tall, lean boy seventeen, maybe his dark hair falling into his eyes. There were faint circles beneath them, a kind of weariness that didnât belong to someone his age, yet his movements were calm, sure. His shirt was faded, his hands rough from work, but his expression was quiet steady.
When his eyes met hers, she blinked, unsure what to say. The shopkeeper simply clapped his hands once. âGo on, boy. Donât keep the lady waiting.â
And just like that, the moment hung between them awkward, wordless, yet oddly still.
The afternoon sun had mellowed into a pale gold as Y/N and Jungkook made their way down the narrow dirt path leading out of the marketplace. The sewing machine creaked slightly in his arms, metal brushing against his sleeve with each step.
Y/N walked a few paces ahead, her hands clasped behind her back, glancing over every now and then to make sure he wasnât struggling.
âYou can put it down for a moment if itâs heavy,â she said, her tone light but thoughtful. âItâs a long walk.â
Jungkook shook his head. âItâs fine. Iâve carried worse.â
She eyed the machine, then him. âYou say that like you do this every day.â
He smiled a little the first hint of expression since theyâd left the shop. âPretty much. Metalâs heavier than this.â
Y/N kicked a small pebble, chuckling softly. âHonestly, Iâd rather stitch all day than lift something that heavy again.â
âThat so?â he said, shifting the weight on his arm. âStitching must be tough, then.â
âIt is,â she replied. âTry threading a needle when your hands are shaking or the fabric keeps slipping.â
He laughed quietly, not mocking but amused. âAlright, Iâll believe you. Guess we both do work that looks easier than it is.â
âExactly.â She tilted her head toward him, eyes glinting. âSo, you work with metal all day? Doesnât that get boring?â
âSometimes,â he admitted, his voice calm and honest. âBut I like making things that last. Iron doesnât change much. Itâs⌠steady.â
She thought about that for a moment, her brow softening. âThat sounds nice, actually. Having something that stays the same.â
They walked in silence for a short stretch.
Jungkook adjusted his grip on the machine again. âSo, how far is your house?â
âNot far,â she replied. âJust past those fields. Youâll see an old roof and too many flower pots. Thatâs us.â
He glanced ahead, squinting slightly at the horizon. âToo many flower pots sounds⌠peaceful.â
âIt is,â she said quietly, her tone softening. âMy grandma likes to plant something new every spring. Says it makes the house feel alive.â
He smiled faintly at that. âSounds like someone who knows how to make things grow.â
Y/N turned her gaze toward him then not staring, just observing. There was something gentle in the way he said it, something that didnât match the soot on his hands or the tired lines under his eyes.
She found herself smiling before she realized it. âYou talk like an old man.â
That made him laugh, short and surprised. âIâll take that as a compliment.â
âDonât,â she said, grinning now. âIt just means you sound tired.â
He gave a small shrug, pretending to think. âMaybe I am. But⌠itâs not a bad kind of tired.â
âWhat kind is it, then?â
âThe kind you get after a long day that actually meant something.â
Her smile faded into something quieter, more thoughtful. âThatâs a good kind,â she murmured.
For a few minutes, neither spoke. The wind rustled through the tall grass, carrying the smell of damp earth. When they finally reached the small path leading to her home, Y/N slowed and pointed ahead.
âThere,â she said. âThatâs my house.â
Jungkook followed her gaze a small home tucked between trees, its roof a little uneven. Rows of flowers lined the entrance, wild and mismatched, like someone had planted them out of pure joy rather than order.
He set the machine down gently on the wooden porch. âMade it in one piece.â
âThanks,â she said, brushing her hands together. âIâll tell Grandma you helped. Sheâll be happy.â
He straightened, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. âNo need. Itâs just part of the job.â
She tilted her head, a playful spark in her eyes. âYou always this serious?â
Jungkook let out a small laugh.
He looked at her for a moment really looked then nodded once, his smile still faint but genuine. âSee you around, then.â
âYeah,â she said softly. âSee you.â
He turned back toward the village, the fading light catching the edge of his profile. She watched him for a moment longer than she meant to before stepping inside.
The market buzzed with life that afternoon. Voices floated through the air vendors calling out prices, the clatter of pots, the smell of fried batter and sweet syrup mixing together. Y/N and her friends weaved through the narrow street, hands linked so they wouldnât get separated in the crowd.
âLetâs eat here!â Mina said, pointing toward a small shop tucked between a spice stall and a cloth vendor. Steam puffed out from its kitchen, carrying the warm scent of dumplings and broth.
Y/N nodded. âLooks good.â
They stepped inside. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and looked toward the counter then froze.
Behind the counter, wiping his hands on a rag, stood Jungkook. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, and beside him, another boy taller, older was calling out orders, clearly used to the chaos.
Y/N blinked, surprised. The last time sheâd seen Jungkook, he was carrying a block of metal, not balancing trays of food. He looked up just then, caught her gaze.
âY/N?â
âJungkook,â she said quickly, before her friends noticed how her tone softened. âYou work here too?â
He nodded, setting down the tray he was holding. âYeah. Help out when the shop gets busy.â
Her friends looked between them curiously. Mina leaned close, whispering, âYou know him?â
âOh yeah. I met him near the workshop last week.â Y/N turned. âThis is Jungkook. Jungkook, these are my friends Mina and Hayeon.â
The taller man beside Jungkook stepped forward with a grin. âIâm Jin,â he said easily. While pointing to Jungkook, He says âHe doesnât talk much, but donât mind him heâs better with hammers than words.â
âHey,â Jungkook muttered, not looking up.
Y/N smiled faintly. âNice to meet you.â
The girls ordered food and sat down. Y/N found herself glancing toward the counter every so often. Jungkook moved efficiently, not wasting a single motion fetching trays, pouring soup, carrying plates with a steadiness that came from habit.
Her friends, of course, noticed.
âOkay, heâs kind of handsome,â Mina whispered, leaning close.
Y/N rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched. âHeâs just working.â
âExactly,â Hayeon said. âEven the way he carries that bowl looks dramatic. Like, look at him.â
âStop,â Y/N hissed, trying not to laugh. âYouâre being obvious.â
Jungkook didnât seem to hear or maybe he did, and just didnât care.
They kept going, whispering jokes and sharing looks, while Y/N tried not to glance toward the counter again though she failed miserably. Every time she did, Jungkook seemed to be working a little faster.
They laughed and teased her the rest of the meal, like only close friends could.
When they finally finished eating and stepped outside. Y/N turned back once not because she meant to, just out of habit.
Through the small opening in the curtain, she saw Jungkook again wiping a table, listening quietly while Jin talked beside him.
Y/N and her friends stepped out, still giggling over their empty bowls and the teasing that hadnât quite stopped since they saw Jungkook.
âYou guys go ahead,â Y/N said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. âIâll come in a bit. Need to get something from the spice stall.â
Her friends exchanged knowing looks immediately.
âUh-huh,â one said with a grin. âFrom the spice stall, right?â
âYeah, sure, we totally believe that,â another added, smirking. âSay hi to the handsome helper for us!â
Y/N groaned. âYou all are impossible.â
They laughed their way down the street, still whispering and glancing back, until they disappeared into the crowd. Y/N exhaled, shaking her head with a faint smile, and turned back toward the small shop.
Through the open door, she saw Jungkook wiping down a table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, focused as always. His expression was calm, steady.
She stepped inside quietly, the wooden floor creaking beneath her shoes. âHey,â she said softly.
Jungkook looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before it softened into a faint smile. âYouâre still here?â
âYeah,â she said, pretending to look around. âMy friends left already. Did you finish your work?â
He nodded once. âI just finished. Why?â
âJust thoughtâŚâ she hesitated for a moment, hands fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. âYouâve been working since morning. Maybe a walk would help. And I could use some company.â
There was a pause not awkward, just thoughtful. Then Jungkook placed the cloth on the counter and said quietly, âAlright. Let me grab my things.â
They walked side by side through the narrow street, where the last few shopkeepers were closing their stalls and lanterns began to flicker to life. The evening breeze carried the smell of roasted chestnuts and the faint sound of a flute somewhere in the distance.
âSo,â Y/N said, glancing up at him, âyou really work at both places?â
âSometimes more,â Jungkook replied. âDepends who needs help. Iâm used to it.â
âDoesnât it get tiring?â
He thought for a moment, then shrugged. âA little. But itâs better than sitting around doing nothing. I like keeping busy.â
Y/N hummed softly. âYou sound older than seventeen.â
He chuckled, low and quiet. âYou sound younger than fifteen.â
She shot him a look. âThatâs rude.â
âNot what I meant,â he said quickly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. âJust that you⌠still sound like you believe things will always work out.â
âAnd you donât?â she asked.
He didnât answer right away. âMaybe I used to.â
They walked a few more steps in silence, the sky dimming above them. Y/N kicked at a pebble again, watching it skip ahead. âThen maybe you should start again,â she said softly. âBelieving, I mean.â
Jungkook looked down at her really looked and for a moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then he nodded, just once. âI will.â
The spring air was gentle that day, the kind that smelled faintly of dew and blossoms carried from the hillside.
Y/N walked beside Jungkook along the narrow dirt path that led out of the village, the edges lined with wildflowers swaying in the wind. Her long hair fluttered against her face, and her hands were clasped together in front of her, half nervous, half excited.
The wind carried the faint scent of flowers as Y/N followed Jungkook up the small dirt path. The sun had started dipping behind the trees, scattering streaks of gold through the branches.
âAre you sure this isnât some prank?â Y/N asked, squinting ahead. âYouâve been walking forever.â
Jungkook threw her a glance over his shoulder, his lips tugging into a grin. âIf it was a prank, youâd be the first to know. You talk too much to keep secrets from.â
âExcuse me?â She gasped, pretending to be offended. âIâm perfectly capable of being quiet.â
He laughed. âYeah, for maybe⌠five seconds?â
âHey!â she protested, quickening her pace to lightly shove his shoulder. âYouâre mean.â
He smirked. âAnd youâre slow. Come on.â
After another turn, the trees suddenly opened up, and Y/Nâs steps slowed. Her breath caught in her throat.
Before them was a field of cherry blossoms in full bloom. The petals danced with the breeze, scattering around like soft pink snow. The air was glowing in the sunset, the sky turning orange and rose above the sea of pink.
Her lips parted in awe. âJungkook⌠itâs beautiful.â
He looked at her, not the trees, and said softly, âYeah⌠it is.â
She turned, catching his gaze for a second before looking away, cheeks warming. âYou really found this place?â
He nodded, walking ahead and sitting under one of the trees. âI come here sometimes. Itâs quiet.â
Y/N followed him, sitting beside him. The grass was cool, and petals landed softly on her skirt. âYouâre seriously full of surprises,â she murmured. âI didnât think you were the type to enjoy⌠flowers.â
He smirked. âYou think I only like fire and metal because I work at the forge?â
She giggled. âWell, maybe it suits you.â
He leaned back slightly. âGuess Iâm that simple.â
Y/N brushed a petal off her shoulder. âSo, youâve got more sides than you show?â
Jungkook raised a brow. âYou finally noticed?â
She laughed softly. âTook me long enough.â
He smiled faintly. âYouâre something else.â
They fell quiet for a moment, the sound of rustling blossoms filling the space between them. Then Y/N looked up at the trees and sighed happily. âI wish I could just stay here forever. No noise, no shop work, no endless stitching.â
âYouâd get bored in two days,â Jungkook said, teasing.
âWould not!â
âWould too,â he countered, leaning slightly toward her. âYouâd start complaining about missing your grandmaâs snacks by the third day.â
She blushed lightly, tugging at the hem of her sleeve. âOkay, maybe the snacks part.â
He grinned, pleased with himself. âSee? I know you better than you think.â
Y/N looked at him then, smiling faintly. âYeah⌠you do.â
For a moment, they just looked at each other, eyes soft in the golden light. Then Y/N quickly looked away, trying to hide her pink cheeks. âStop staring.â
âI wasnât staring,â Jungkook said, fighting a smile.
âYou totally were!â
âFine,â he said, shrugging. âYou just looked⌠funny. Like a squirrel.â
Her jaw dropped. âA squirrel?â
He nodded solemnly. âA very serious squirrel.â
She burst into laughter again, smacking his arm lightly. âYouâre such a brat.â
He grinned. âYouâre easy to tease.â
âYouâre mean.â
âMaybe.â
The way he said it calm, playful, with that tiny smile made her heart flutter unexpectedly. She fiddled with a blossom in her hands, trying to look anywhere but at him.
After a while, he shifted and said, âHey.â
She hummed, still plucking petals. âWhat?â
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with a thin string. âHere.â
Y/N blinked. âWhatâs this?â
âYour birthday gift,â he said casually, handing it over. âDonât make a big deal out of it.â
âI wasnât going to,â she said, grinning as she carefully untied it. Inside was a small silver charm shaped like a cherry blossom, hanging from a delicate thread.
Her mouth fell open. âYou made this?â
He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. âYeah. Itâs nothing special.â
âNothing special?â She looked up, eyes wide. âJungkook, this is so pretty. It looks like something from a real shop!â
He shrugged. âGuess I got lucky.â
âDonât act cool,â she said softly, smiling as she held it up to the light. âI love it.â
He looked at her then really looked and his usual teasing expression softened. âGood.â
She stared at the charm a moment longer before carefully tying it around her wrist. âHow do I look?â
Jungkook tilted his head slightly. âHmmâŚâ
She gasped. âDonât you dare say squirrel again.â
He grinned. âI was gonna say⌠cute.â
Her face heated instantly. âShut up!â
âI mean it,â he said, still smiling, but his voice was softer now.
Y/N bit her lip, trying to hide the way her heart was hammering. âYouâre just saying that because itâs my birthday.â
He leaned closer, his tone teasing again. âMaybe. Or maybe youâre just really easy to fluster.â
âIâm not flustered!â she blurted out, but the way she ducked her face into her hands made him laugh.
âSure youâre not.â
âUgh, I hate you.â
âNo, you donât,â he said, his smile widening.
She peeked through her fingers, meeting his eyes. âMaybe I do.â
He chuckled quietly. âThen why are you smiling?â
She huffed, turning away to hide the grin spreading across her face. âYouâre so annoying.â
They sat there until the sun melted fully into the horizon, petals floating around them like tiny pink stars. Y/N rested her chin on her knees, the charm glinting on her wrist as she whispered, âThank you, Jungkook. Really.â
He glanced at her, voice gentle. âHappy birthday, Y/N.â
Their eyes met once more, and this time, neither of them looked away.
The breeze danced through the blossoms above them, and though neither said it aloud, both felt it the quiet, shy ache of something that was slowly, softly turning into love.
The soft glow of the lanterns flickered as Y/N stepped onto the worn wooden porch of their small home. The night air was cool now, carrying the faint fragrance of the cherry blossoms clinging to her sleeves. Her wrist still shimmered faintly under the dim light, the silver charm Jungkook had made catching a glint each time she moved.
Inside, the house was quiet except for the low crackle of the fire. Grandma Soo sat by the hearth, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, a half-finished piece of stitching resting on her lap. Her head lifted the moment the door creaked open.
âY/N,â she said sharply, her tone both relieved and stern. âWhere have you been, child? The sun went down an hour ago!â
Y/N winced a little, closing the door gently behind her. âIâI went out, Grandma. Just⌠for a walk.â
âA walk?â Grandma Soo echoed, narrowing her eyes. âAt this hour?â She stood, her thin frame straightening despite her age. âYouâre eighteen, not a bird that needs to wander after dark. You worried me.â
Y/N dropped her gaze, biting her lip. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to make you worry.â
Grandma sighed, rubbing her temples. âYou couldâve at least taken your gift before disappearing. I was waiting for you all day. Made your favorite rice cakes too.â
That made Y/Nâs chest tighten a little with guilt. She shuffled closer, crouching beside the fire. âI didnât forget. I just⌠Jungkook wanted to show me something. Itâs my birthday, remember?â
The old womanâs hands froze at the name. âJungkook,â she repeated slowly. âThat boy from the metal shop?â
Y/N nodded, smiling faintly. âYeah. He took me to the cherry blossom field. It was beautiful, Grandma. Iâd never seen anything like it.â
But Grandma Sooâs expression had already changed a shadow of concern clouding her soft eyes. âY/N,â she began carefully, âIâve told you before⌠you must be careful with boys, especially ones who come from hard places.â
Y/N frowned. âWhat do you mean, âhard placesâ?â
âHeâs not from here,â Grandma said, voice low. âHeâs an orphan, isnât he? Lives with others like him. That kind of life makes people⌠restless, uncertain. They move often, searching for something to fill their emptiness. I donât want you getting tangled up in something that could hurt you.â
Y/N looked at her, hurt flickering across her face. âHeâs not like that, Grandma. Jungkookâs kind. He helps people. He works harder than anyone Iâve seen.â
Grandmaâs tone softened, but her worry didnât fade. âKindness doesnât always mean stability, my dear. I know what Iâm saying. Life isnât easy for boys like him. They carry burdens that you canât see. Sometimes, love for them feels like saving them but it ends up breaking you instead.â
Y/Nâs fingers curled around her skirt. âHeâs not broken,â she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. âHeâs⌠heâs just trying to live.â
Grandmaâs gaze softened, and for a long moment, she didnât speak. Then she sat down again, her expression heavy. âY/N-ah⌠you have such a soft heart. Thatâs your greatest gift and your biggest danger. I only want you safe. Youâre all I have.â
Y/N knelt beside her, resting her head on Grandmaâs lap like she used to when she was little. âI know, Grandma. I love you. But Jungkook⌠heâs my friend. Heâs been there for me. I canât just pretend he doesnât matter.â
Grandmaâs hand brushed through Y/Nâs hair, gentle but firm. âA boy and a girl can be friends, yes. But hearts change before you realize it. And when they do, things become difficult.â
Y/N closed her eyes, her voice quiet. âMaybe. But heâs the only person who makes me feel⌠understood.â
Grandma paused, the stitching thread dangling from her hand. âUnderstood?â
Y/N nodded slowly. â He listens. He makes me laugh. And when Iâm with him, everything feels⌠lighter.â
A soft sigh escaped Grandma Sooâs lips. âThatâs how it always begins, dear. The laughter, the lightness. But love real love must also withstand lifeâs weight. Youâre still so young. You donât yet know how heavy the world can be.â
Y/N sat up then, her eyes glimmering with quiet determination. âMaybe not. But I want to learn⌠and I want to believe that not everyone whoâs been hurt will hurt others.â
For a long while, only the fire crackled between them. The silence wasnât angry, just full of everything they both wanted to say but couldnât.
Finally, Grandma reached behind her and picked up a small, neatly wrapped bundle. âHere,â she said softly. âBefore I forget.â
Y/N blinked and accepted it. Inside was a simple hand-stitched pouch, the fabric soft and familiar, embroidered with small cherry blossoms.
âI made it while you were gone,â Grandma said with a faint smile. âTo keep little things safe. Maybe that pretty charm youâre wearing.â
Y/Nâs fingers brushed over the embroidery, her throat tightening. âItâs beautiful. Thank you, Grandma.â
âNext time,â Grandma murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind Y/Nâs ear, âtake this with you. And⌠if you must see that boy again, promise me youâll be careful. Donât give your heart away too easily, hmm?â
Y/N smiled faintly, leaning into her grandmotherâs touch. âIâll be careful. I promise.â
But as she lay in bed later that night, the charm glinting softly in the moonlight, her promise felt both true and impossible because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jungkookâs smile under the cherry blossoms, and her heart whispered quietly, Itâs already too late.
The market square was alive with noise that afternoon the hum of chatter, the creak of wooden carts, the calls of vendors hawking vegetables and spices. Sunlight poured through the awnings, painting stripes of gold and shadow over the dusty path.
Y/N adjusted the small basket in her hands, ticking through her mental list â rice, salt, a bit of fabric thread. Grandma had stayed home with aching knees, so the errands were hers today. She moved from stall to stall.
But as she turned into a quieter stretch of the market where the crowd thinned near the well. A group of three young men stood near the shade of a fruit stall, laughing among themselves. They looked her way, their clothes cleaner than most in the village fine silk shirts and golden cuffs. They werenât locals she saw often, only showing up when they felt like flaunting the wealth their families held.
She was checking a stall for cloth when a voice called out behind her, sharp with mock amusement.
âWell, look who we have here.â
Y/N turned slightly. Three boys stood a few feet away â a group she didnât recognize. They werenât from her part of the village; their clothes were too fine, their shoes too clean.
âPretty thing to be walking around alone,â one of them said, his grin lazy and mean. âAinât it dangerous for a girl like you?â
Y/N kept her voice steady. âIâm fine, thanks.â She turned back to the stall.
But a hand landed on the counter beside hers â close, too close. âHey, Iâm talking to you. Didnât your folks teach you manners?â
Her jaw clenched. âDid yours?â she said without looking at him.
The boys behind him laughed. âOoh, got a sharp tongue, huh?â the tallest one said. âBet thatâs fun until someone bites back.â
Y/N faced them now, her basket still steady in her hand. âYou should walk away.â
âShould we?â The first boy tilted his head, smirk widening. âWeâre just trying to talk. Why so cold?â
âBecause youâre in my way.â
The boy clicked his tongue, stepping closer. âFeisty one. I like that.â
âDonât touch me,â Y/N said sharply, stepping back. The words came fast, hard. âDonât even try.â
That earned a whistle from the third boy. âRelax, weâre not gonna hurt youââ
âThen leave,â she snapped, louder now. Heads turned. People started watching â a few stall owners frowned, whispering among themselves, but no one stepped in yet.
The first boyâs smile faded, replaced by irritation. âYou really donât know who youâre talking to, huh?â
âNo,â Y/N said flatly. âAnd I donât care.â
That made something in his expression darken. He reached for her wrist and before his hand could touch her, another one caught it midair.
Then a voice cut through the noise.
âIâd move your hand if I were you.â
The tone was calm but it carried enough weight to still the laughter instantly.
The boys turned. Jungkook stood a few paces away, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a folded sack of metal parts in one hand. His face was unreadable, but his eyes dark, sharp with quiet fury were fixed on them.
âOh,â one of the boys said, scoffing. âThe blacksmithâs boy.â
Jungkook didnât answer. He just stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until the space between him and Y/N closed. He set the sack down and stood slightly in front of her.
âYou think picking on a girl makes you a man?â His voice was quiet, almost soft, but the silence that followed it made the words land like blows.
The ringleader smirked, though a flicker of unease crossed his face. âIt was just talk. Donât make a scene.â
âYou already did,â Jungkook said flatly. âNow apologize.â
The boy bristled, glancing at his friends for support. âYou donât get to order us around. Do you know who my father is?â
âNo,â Jungkook said, meeting his gaze without a blink. âAnd I donât care.â
There was a long pause. The air felt thick like the moment before a storm. Then the boy laughed again, a sharp, forced sound. âYou think youâre some kind of hero, huh? Playing guard dog for every village girl?â
Jungkookâs jaw tensed. He didnât raise his voice, but his next words were low and cold. âIf I see you near her again, Iâll make sure you wonât be able to stand so tall next time.â
The smirk faltered. The other boys exchanged nervous glances theyâd seen Jungkook before, carrying iron bars twice their weight without breaking a sweat. There was something in his eyes now that didnât invite argument.
The leader muttered something under his breath, then shoved his hands into his pockets. âCome on,â he snapped to his friends. âSheâs not worth it.â
And just like that, they left the laughter gone, replaced by the uneasy quiet of the crowd that had gathered. People whispered behind their hands, eyes darting between Jungkook and Y/N.
Jungkook finally exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. He turned to her slowly. âAre you okay?â
Y/N nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. âYeah⌠Iâm fine.â
And together, they walked through the busy street side by side, the air lighter now, though neither said what they were really thinking.
The evening settled softly over the village, painting the sky in strokes of amber and violet as the last light faded beyond the rooftops.
Y/N had been on her way back from the tailorâs workshop, a bundle of folded fabric tucked securely under her arm, when she caught sight of a familiar figure by the old water well near the marketâs edge.
At first, she almost didnât recognize him he stood still, head bent, filling a small metal pail, sleeves rolled up as usual. But then the sunlight hit the side of his face, and she saw it the faint purpling along his cheekbone, a small cut on the corner of his lip, and a bruise just above his brow.
She stopped mid-step, heart thudding.
âJungkook?â
He glanced up, startled, then quickly looked away as if pretending not to hear her.
âYah, Jeon Jungkook!â she called again, walking toward him.
He sighed quietly, setting the pail down. âHey.â
The word was soft, casual â too casual.
âWhat happened to your face?â she asked, her tone sharper now as she stepped closer. Her eyes scanned the bruises that trailed faintly down his neck. âDid youâdid someone hit you?â
He tried to look indifferent. âItâs nothing.â
âNothing?â She frowned. âYou look like you fought a mountain.â
He gave a quiet huff, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. âGuess I lost, then.â
âJungkook,â she said firmly, folding her arms. âTell me.â
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. âItâs⌠not a big deal.â
âIt looks like a big deal.â
He stayed silent for a moment, then finally muttered, âThose guys from yesterday. They were waiting when I left work last night.â
Y/Nâs eyes widened. âWhat? Those jerks from the market?â
He gave a small nod, eyes still lowered. âSaid I embarrassed them. Wanted to return the favor.â
âAnd you let them?â she snapped.
âI didnât let them,â he said quietly. âBut three against one isnât fair odds.â
Her chest ached. âDid you at least go see the village doctor?â
He shook his head.
âWhy not?â
He shrugged again, avoiding her gaze. âItâs fine. Just bruises. No point wasting money.â
Y/N stared at him, disbelief mixing with anger. âYouâre unbelievable.â
âY/Nââ
âNo, seriously! Youâre walking around with half your face blue and think youâre fine? What if it gets worse? What if itâs infected or something?â
He almost smiled at that faintly, like he couldnât help it. âIâm not dying.â
âThatâs not the point,â she said, grabbing his wrist. âCome on.â
âWhere are we going?â
âTo my house.â
He blinked, caught off guard. âWhatâno, Iâm notââ
âYou are,â she said firmly, already tugging him along the road. âAnd donât even try to argue.â
âY/Nââ
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. âOne more word and Iâll drag you.â
He chuckled under his breath, letting himself be pulled along, his steps falling in rhythm behind hers. âYou really like ordering people around, huh?â
âOnly when theyâre stupid.â
âGuess I should be honored.â
She ignored him, though her lips twitched slightly. âStop talking and walk.â
By the time they reached Y/Nâs home, the evening sky had deepened into a cool indigo, the faint hum of crickets threading through the quiet air. The small house stood at the edge of the village, surrounded by the gentle rustle of plum trees. Jungkook hesitated at the doorway, the faint ache in his ribs forgotten for a moment as he realized he had never been here before.
âDonât just stand there,â Y/N said, unlocking the wooden door. âGet in before I change my mind.â
He smirked faintly. âYou say that like you could actually stop me if I didnât.â
She turned sharply, eyes narrowing. âTry me, Jeon.â
He raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping inside with a grin tugging at his lips. The interior was modest but warm a low table near the window, a few drying herbs hanging by the kitchen space, and shelves lined with neatly stacked books and small trinkets. It smelled faintly of lavender and soap.
âSit,â she ordered, gesturing toward a cushion near the window.
Jungkook sat, looking around quietly while she disappeared into another room. His gaze lingered on the framed sketch pinned beside her deskâcherry blossoms drawn in gentle, imperfect lines, like someone had traced them from memory. There was a tiny clay figure beside it, something that looked half like a cat and half like⌠a potato. He smiled.
Then his eyes drifted toward the far end of the room as Y/N returned this time carrying a small box and a folded cloth. She stopped when she noticed him looking.
âDonât snoop.â
âI wasnât snooping,â he said innocently. âJust⌠observing.â
âSame thing.â
âThen you shouldnât have left me alone here,â he teased.
She rolled her eyes, setting the box down beside him. âYou talk too much for someone who got beaten up.â
He gave her a crooked smile. âI can still defend myself with words, at least.â
âNot impressive,â she said flatly, opening the box.
Inside were small glass bottles, bandages, and ointments that smelled faintly of herbs. She soaked a cotton cloth in a clear solution and leaned in.
âHold still.â
âI am still.â
âYouâre breathing too loud.â
He chuckled under his breath. âDidnât know that was against the rules.â
âNow it is.â
She dabbed gently at the cut near his lip, and he hissed softly, jerking slightly away.
âAhâ! That stings!â
âOf course it does,â she muttered, not missing a beat. âYou shouldâve gone to the doctor before it got worse.â
He watched her, her brows furrowed in concentration, the lamplight catching in her eyes. âDidnât want to waste money,â he murmured.
âYou think your face isnât worth a few coins?â
He smirked faintly. âDepends whoâs looking.â
She glanced at him briefly, then looked away too quickly. âStop saying nonsense.â
He grinned wider. âSo you are looking, then.â
She glared at him, dabbing his jaw a little harder this time. âHold still, or Iâll actually make it hurt.â
âViolent woman,â he muttered, eyes glinting with amusement.
âUngrateful idiot.â
Their eyes met for a brief moment and the banter quieted. She noticed the flecks of gold in his irises, the faint shadow of his lashes, the curve of his mouth soft now instead of teasing. For a second, she forgot what she was supposed to do next.
â...Youâve got a cut here too,â she said quietly, brushing her thumb near his temple.
He didnât answer. Just watched her.
The air felt thicker now, the small room holding the hush between them. The only sound was the faint creak of the house and the rhythmic chirp of crickets outside.
She reached for another small bottle of ointment, standing up. âWait here. Iâll get the stronger one from the shelf.â
When she left, Jungkook exhaled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.
When she left the room to fetch another bottle, Jungkook let out a small breath he hadnât realized he was holding.
When Y/N came back, she had her sleeves rolled up and a small bottle clutched in her hand. A loose strand of hair had fallen over her face, tickling her cheek as she knelt beside him again. She didnât seem to notice.
Jungkook did. He hesitated for a second, then said quietly, âYouâve got⌠uh, hair on your face.â
She blinked, looking confused. âWhat?â
He didnât answer instead, he reached out before thinking twice and gently tucked the strand behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin for the briefest moment. Warm. Careful.
Y/N froze, startled by the smallness of the gesture and how much it made her heart jump.
âThanks,â she muttered, trying to focus on the cloth in her hand. âYou couldâve just said it, you know.â
He gave a soft laugh, scratching the back of his head. âYeah, but youâd have scolded me for not helping.â
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted just a little. âYouâre still getting scolded,â she said, dipping the cloth in the ointment.
âWhy?â
âFor being reckless. For not taking care of yourself. For making me worry,â she said, her voice softening at the end.
Jungkookâs grin faded. He looked at her, quiet for a moment. âYou worried about me?â
She didnât look up, pretending to be very busy cleaning the cut on his arm. âObviously. You were hurt. Anyone would.â
âRight,â he said with a small smile that didnât quite reach his eyes. âAnyone.â
She glanced up then, meeting his gaze â and something unspoken lingered there. She wanted to tell him it wasnât just anyone. But she couldnât.
Instead, she said, âStop moving, or itâll hurt more.â
He smirked. âYouâre really bad at being gentle.â
She gasped. âExcuse me? Iâm helping you!â
âYouâre torturing me.â
âOh, really?â she said, dabbing his cheek a little harder.
âOwâ! Okay, okay, fine!â he laughed, trying to pull back, but she leaned closer, holding his face still with her hand.
âDonât move,â she ordered again, their faces now closer than either realized.
The laughter faded into a quiet stillness. Their eyes met hers wide and soft, his uncertain but calm. The lampâs glow flickered across his cheek, and Y/N could suddenly hear her own heartbeat too loudly.
For a few seconds, neither moved. Jungkookâs eyes dropped to her lips, then quickly back to her eyes as if afraid heâd done something wrong. She opened her mouth to say something anything but no words came.
He smiled faintly, breaking the silence first. âYouâre staring.â
Her face flushed instantly. âIâI was not!â
âWere too.â
âWas not!â
He laughed under his breath, and the sound made her cheeks warm even more.
âFine,â he said softly, eyes still on her. âThen I was.â
Before she could respond, a sudden loud clatter echoed from the hallway the sound of a dropped pot, maybe from her grandmotherâs room. Both of them jolted, jumping apart like theyâd been caught doing something wrong.
âOh my god,â she muttered, pressing a hand over her heart. âYou scared me!â
âMe? I didnât do anything!â Jungkook said quickly, flustered, rubbing the back of his neck again.
âYouâ you were sitting too close!â
He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his smile. âWas I? You didnât seem to mind.â
She shot him a glare. âShut up.â
He grinned, leaning back slightly but his eyes still playful. âYes, maâam.â
Y/N tried to focus on bandaging his arm again, but her hands felt clumsy, her heart still racing. Neither of them said anything for a while. The silence wasnât awkward just filled with things they didnât know how to say yet.
The night air was cool, thick with the scent of damp earth and faint woodsmoke. Lanterns in the village had begun to dim, one by one, as people shuttered their doors for the night. Jungkook waited near the edge of the market like he always did, hands shoved into his pockets, hair a little messy from the long day at the forge.
When Y/N appeared, carrying a small basket and wrapped in a thin shawl, he straightened.
âYouâre late,â he said with a teasing smile. âWhat took you so long?â
âGrandma wanted extra thread sorted,â she replied, rolling her eyes lightly. âShe said the shop canât survive if I keep tangling them.â
Jungkook chuckled under his breath. âMaybe sheâs right. You do have a habit of making knots out of everything.â
âOh, and youâre one to talk?â she shot back, glancing up at him. âLast week, you dropped a whole hammer on your foot.â
He feigned a scowl. âThat was strategy. The hammer needed discipline.â
She laughed softly, and for a moment the quiet road didnât feel so empty. Their footsteps moved in rhythm, gravel crunching underfoot, the distant croak of frogs echoing through the fields.
Then without warning the wind shifted. A fat droplet of rain splashed against Y/Nâs cheek.
She stopped, blinking up at the sky. âWait did you feelââ
Before she could finish, the drizzle became a sudden downpour, heavy and relentless.
âAhâJungkook!â she cried, half laughing, half startled as she clutched the fabric tighter to her chest. âItâs raining!â
Jungkook laughed, the sound drowned by the patter of rain. âCome on this way!â
Without thinking, he reached for her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers firmly. The contact startled her, but before she could protest, he was already guiding her toward the small wooden shed by the side of the road a place where farmers usually stored their tools.
They dashed across the muddy path, the rain soaking through their clothes, cold and wild. Y/N stumbled once, but Jungkookâs grip tightened, steadying her. Her heart thudded she wasnât sure if it was from running or from the warmth of his hand in hers.
They slipped under the shedâs narrow awning, breathing hard. Rain drummed against the roof, echoing in steady rhythm. Water clung to their hair and lashes; Y/Nâs shawl hung limp over her shoulders, and Jungkookâs shirt clung to him, his breath misting faintly in the chill.
He pushed wet strands of hair off his forehead and glanced at her, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. âYouâre drenched.â
âSo are you,â she retorted, wringing water from her sleeve.
âYeah, but you look worse,â he teased lightly.
Her eyes widened. âExcuse me?â
He grinned. âYouâre shivering. Hereââ
He shrugged off his damp outer jacket anyway, trying to shake off some of the water before draping it around her shoulders.
She looked up at him, surprised. âYouâll freeze.â
âIâll live,â he said simply, his tone quieter now, gaze lingering for a heartbeat longer than usual.
The rain filled the silence between them steady, endless, soft. Their hands brushed again when she adjusted the jacket, and neither pulled away.
She looked out into the curtain of rain. âItâs⌠nice. It feels like the worldâs quieter. Like everything slows down.â
He studied her, the corners of his eyes soft. âYou really think rain can make things better?â
âSometimes,â she said, turning to him. âRain hides everything dust, noise, even the past. For a while, itâs just⌠clean again.â
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face. âYou always find the good in everything.â
She smiled faintly, almost shyly. âAnd you always find something to tease me about.â
He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled between them. âThatâs because you make it easy.â
She rolled her eyes but couldnât hide her smile. The warmth between them lingered, filling the silence that followed. Outside, the rain poured harder, the wind whistling softly through the narrow lanes.
Then, without warning, Y/N stepped forward.
âYou know what?â she said, eyes glinting. âIâm going.â
He frowned. âGoing where?â
âOut there.â
âY/N no, itâs pouringââ
But before he could stop her, she was gone, stepping right into the downpour with a laugh that echoed against the night. Her arms lifted, her shawl falling to the ground as she turned once, twice spinning in the middle of the road, the rain wrapping around her like a thousand glittering threads.
Jungkook stared, half in disbelief, half in awe. Her laughter cut through the sound of rain like a melody he never wanted to forget.
âYouâre insane,â he called out, his voice laced with both exasperation and something softer.
âThen come save me!â she shouted back, her smile radiant, eyes daring.
He shook his head, though he was already moving, his boots splashing through the puddles. âYouâre going to catch a cold!â
âSo will you!â she laughed, spinning again as he reached her.
Jungkook stood a step away, soaked and breathless, watching the way her hair clung to her face, how her eyes sparkled under the lamplight. Heâd seen her happy before, but never like this never so alive, so free.
He didnât realize he was smiling until she noticed. âWhat?â she asked, catching her breath, her voice softer now.
âNothing,â he murmured, his eyes not leaving her face. âYou just lookâŚâ
âLike what?â she asked, tilting her head, the teasing tone returning.
âLike you belong here,â he said simply. âIn the rain.â
The sound of water seemed to fade, the world shrinking to just the two of them their laughter, their closeness, the warmth that defied the chill.
Y/N looked away first, cheeks flushed. âYouâre terrible at compliments,â she said quietly.
He smirked faintly. âYouâre terrible at taking them.â
She gave him a small shove, laughing again. But her foot slipped on the slick stones just enough for her balance to waver.
âY/N!â
Jungkookâs reflexes were faster than thought; he caught her by the waist before she could fall, pulling her against him. The world stilled.
Her palms rested flat against his chest; his arm stayed firm around her back, holding her close. Rainwater ran down her temples, glistening like silver in the faint light.
âCareful,â he murmured, his voice low. âI told you.â
Her breath came in small, uneven puffs. âIâm fine,â she whispered, not daring to look up.
But he didnât move. Neither of them did.
His heartbeat thudded beneath her fingers steady, warm, too loud for either to ignore. Slowly, hesitantly, Y/N looked up. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither could look away.
Rain traced lines down his cheek; her gaze followed one before meeting his eyes again. There was something different there something tender, quiet, and unspoken, like a secret that had been waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
Something fluttered in her chest something wild and uncontrollable.
His hand, still at her waist, tightened slightly, pulling her a fraction closer. The space between them dissolved, and her breath caught when his forehead brushed against hers light, hesitant, almost unsure.
The rain softened around them, slower now, as if even the storm held its breath.
Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her voice trembling. âJungkookâŚâ
He hummed quietly in response, his thumb tracing a small, absent circle against her back.
She opened her eyes, finding him looking at her again closer now, their breaths mingling, the warmth of his skin breaking through the chill. For the first time, neither of them looked away.
And under the quiet, endless fall of rain, their words fell away.
They leaned in.
Slowly. Carefully. Like the world might shatter if they moved too fast.
And for that one small, fragile moment, nothing else existed but the sound of the rain and the steady rhythm of two hearts learning the same language.
The afternoon sun slipped gently through drifting clouds, painting the yard in shades of gold and green. The air still held a faint dampness from last nightâs rain cool, clean, and alive.
Y/N stood near the small garden patch behind her house, a wooden basket of seedlings at her feet. Her sleeves were rolled just past her elbows, and a few strands of hair had escaped her braid. She frowned at the empty stretch of soil as if scolding it into obedience.
âJungkook!â she called, glancing toward the narrow path leading to the gate. âYouâre late!â
He appeared a moment later, breath steady, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His white linen shirt was slightly untucked, the edges of his sleeves still damp from washing. âYou said after noon,â he said, stepping closer. âThe sunâs barely leaning west.â
âItâs leaning enough,â she shot back. âCome on, help me before the soil dries.â
He chuckled quietly and walked over, resting his hands on his hips. âYouâre bossier every time I see you. What are we planting today?â
Y/N crouched, carefully setting a small clay pot aside. âGrandma wanted basil and marigolds. The storm ruined most of the old plants. Weâll start before she notices.â
He knelt beside her, the fabric of his trousers brushing against the damp grass. âSo you called me here to dig holes?â
âYouâre better at it,â she said without looking up. âBesides, I canât do it alone.â
He reached for the small spade. âAlright,â he said quietly, âthen Iâll dig.â
They worked in companionable silence at first the sound of earth being turned, the hum of cicadas in the trees. Every so often, Y/N would glance up, find him already watching her, and pretend not to notice.
When she pressed one of the seedlings into place, he leaned over. âNot like that,â he said.
âYes, like that.â
âNo,â he insisted, his tone teasing. âYouâre pressing too much. Youâll suffocate the roots.â
She frowned. âThen show me, oh great expert.â
He smiled, guiding her hand with his. âLike this,â he murmured, loosening the soil slightly, his fingers brushing against hers.
The air seemed to thicken. Y/Nâs breath faltered, her pulse stumbling somewhere in her throat.
âThatâs⌠better,â she said quickly, looking away.
âSee?â His grin turned smug. âYou should listen to me more often.â
âIn your dreams,â she muttered.
He laughed, low and warm, the sound threading through the quiet afternoon. When he turned back to the plants, she flicked a small bit of soil at him just enough to land on his shirt.
He stared at her. âDid you justâ?â
She smiled sweetly. âA little dirt wonât hurt.â
His expression shifted into playful mischief. âYou shouldnât have done that.â
Before she could react, he dipped his fingers into the soil and gently tapped it onto the tip of her nose.
âJungkook!â
He laughed outright this time, leaning back to dodge her half-hearted swat. âNow weâre even.â
âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd you look adorable,â he said softly.
That quieted her for a second. The word lingered between them like the faint scent of rain. She turned back to the garden, trying to hide the way her cheeks burned.
By the time they finished, the small patch looked full and alive again. Y/N sat back on her heels, brushing dirt from her hands. âItâs perfect,â she murmured.
Jungkook watched her sunlight catching in her hair, her expression calm and proud. âIt is,â he said, though his gaze never left her face.
When she looked up, he leaned closer, his voice lower, quieter. âYouâve got a little dirt right here.â
Her breath caught when his thumb brushed her cheek, gentle and slow. The touch lingered a moment too long before he dropped his hand and smiled.
âBetter,â he said.
âThank you,â she whispered.
He didn't move away. He stayed close, kneeling there, his intense gaze fixed on her mouth. The comfortable space they usually maintained dissolved, replaced by a sudden, electric proximity.
He didn't ask. He simply closed the distance, his lips meeting hers with a tender, but possessive certainty. The kiss was no longer brief it deepened, Jungkook tilting his head slightly, his hand lifting to gently cradle the back of her neck. He held her there, tasting the sweetness of the afternoon and the unspoken tension of the last three years.
Y/Nâs hand rose instinctively, her fingers catching on the smooth, damp linen of his shirt, pulling him closer. The gentle pressure of his mouth was an affirmation of their private world, a moment of profound truth spoken without fear. He pulled back slowly, deliberately, his breath mingling with hers.
He looked into her eyes, the sheer, undeniable affection in his gaze rendering any apology unnecessary. He had simply acted on the deepest truth they shared.
He stood then, offering his hand to her. âCome on, gardener. Letâs clean up before your grandmother thinks Iâve ruined her yard.â
Y/N slipped her hand into his, laughing softly. âYou already have.â
He smiled that quiet, knowing kind of smile and didnât let go.
The little stitching shop was quiet that afternoon, save for the soft rhythm of thread pulling through cloth and the whir of the ceiling fan turning lazily above. Rolls of fabric lined the shelves, their colors muted by the golden light that spilled through the open doorway.
Grandma sat behind the counter, her glasses perched low on her nose as she carefully measured out a length of ribbon. Her hands moved with the ease of habit, nimble even in age.
The bell above the door tinkled.
âAh, youâre early today,â Grandma said without looking up, a faint smile tugging at her lips. âBack for your dress, Mira?â
The woman who entered was in her fifties, her hair streaked with gray and tied neatly in a bun. She carried herself with that familiar air of someone who always knew more than she should. âYes, that, and a bit of company,â Mira replied, fanning herself with a folded piece of paper. âItâs far too hot to sit home and stare at the walls.â
Grandma nodded, folding the ribbon neatly. âYou know youâre welcome here. Sit down; Iâll get your dress.â
Mira took a seat on the small bench by the counter, her eyes wandering over the rows of neatly folded fabrics, the threads gleaming like sunlight in jars. âYouâve kept busy, havenât you?â she said. âAlways something new hanging in the window.â
âThereâs always someone needing new clothes,â Grandma replied simply, reaching for a wrapped parcel behind her. âAnd I like having work to do. Keeps the mind quiet.â
Mira chuckled, accepting the parcel but she didnât leave. âSpeaking of busy, Iâve seen your granddaughter running around quite a bit these days.â
Grandmaâs hands stilled just slightly. âY/N? She helps me with errands. Brings things from the market, delivers finished pieces.â
âOh, yes,â Mira said smoothly. âAnd she seems to have a fine helper of her own lately. That boy Jungkook, isnât it? Always by her side, walking her home after dusk.â
Grandma lifted her gaze, her tone even. âHeâs been helping with the heavier work. Kind boy.â
âWell,â Mira began, her tone smooth, âthat boy.â She gave a little sigh, eyes glinting. âYou must be careful, sister. People are starting to talk.â
Grandma frowned. âTalk about what? Heâs been helping us for months now. Heâs a good boy.â
Mira chuckled softly a sound that never reached her eyes. âOf course, of course. But you know how the village is. They say heâs rough around the edges, a boy with no family, no proper work⌠and Y/N, sheâs such a sweet thing, too trusting. It doesnât look good when a young girl spends so much time with a boy like that.â
Grandmaâs lips pressed into a thin line. âHeâs kind to her. Thatâs all that matters.â
The other woman sighed theatrically. âKindness can be mistaken for something else, you know. Why, just last night, after that rain, I saw them near the main road. So close you wouldnât believe it. Looked like theyâd forgotten where they were.â She lowered her voice conspiratorially. âSome even say they kissed, right there in the open. Imagine! What will people think of her if that story spreads?â
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Grandmaâs hands paused on the counter. The small paper packet crinkled under her tightening grip. âYou should be careful with what you say, Mira,â she said quietly.
âOh, I donât mean harm,â Mira replied quickly, hands fluttering in mock innocence. âIâm only telling you what others might twist worse. I thought you should know before the whispers grow louder. Youâve always been so proud of her, and rightly so. Iâd hate to see her good name tarnished because of a boyâs foolishness.â
Mira smiled thinly, rising to her feet. âI only mean to warn you, dear. You know how easily gossip takes root here. Iâd hate to see her hurt.â
She placed her payment neatly on the counter, turned, and swept out into the sunlit lane leaving behind a silence heavy enough to bend the air.
Grandma stood for a while without moving. Then, slowly, she folded the half-sewn fabric before her, her thoughts miles away. The memory of Y/Nâs laughter from the night before that unguarded, happy sound echoed faintly in her mind. But now, tangled with it, came the weight of something colder.
The house was dim and quiet that night, the kind of silence that sits between two people who have too much to say but donât know where to start.
The only sound came from the soft clinking of metal spoons against clay bowls as Y/N and Grandma ate, facing each other but worlds apart.
Grandma hadnât said much since she returned from the shop. Her face was calm, too calm the kind that made Y/N uneasy. Every now and then, Grandmaâs eyes would lift, watch her for a few seconds, then drop again. That silence wasnât peace. It was waiting heavy, expectant, almost suffocating.
Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to look at her plate. She wanted to speak, to fill the room with something, anything. But the words just wouldnât come.
Finally, Grandma set her spoon down. The sound was small, but it cut through the silence like a blade. âYou were with him again today, werenât you?â
Y/N froze mid-bite. Her hand hovered in the air before slowly lowering. She didnât look up. âWe were just planting new saplings in the garden.â
âPlanting,â Grandma repeated, her voice soft but edged with disbelief. âThatâs what people say when theyâre afraid to speak the truth.â
Y/Nâs hand trembled. âThereâs nothing wrong in what we did.â
Grandmaâs bowl landed on the table with a dull thud. The sound made Y/N flinch. âNothing wrong?â Grandmaâs tone rose, cracked slightly, as if pulled between anger and fear. âYou think people donât talk? Half the village already whispers about you both how you walk together, how you laugh like thereâs no one else in the world. And nowââ she paused, her jaw tightening, âthey say they saw you on the road yesterday. That you were⌠behaving shamelessly.â
Y/Nâs head snapped up, eyes wide. âThey lie! We werenâtââ She stopped herself, words collapsing before they reached her lips. Denying it fully would be useless; Grandma could see right through her.
The air was heavy, the sound of crickets outside filling the silence she couldnât.
Y/Nâs voice cracked. âWe love each other, Grandma.â
The words came out raw, frightened but honest.
For a heartbeat, Grandma didnât move. The clock ticked somewhere in the corner, each sound echoing too loud. Then Grandma laughed softly, a bitter sound that didnât touch her eyes. âLove,â she repeated, almost to herself. âWhat do you know of love, child?â
Her voice lowered, trembling. âHeâs a boy with no home, no family, no land. What will he give you? What will you eat when Iâm gone? Love wonât feed you. It wonât build a roof.â
Y/Nâs breath hitched. âI donât care about any of that,â she said, her voice small but steady. âI care about him.â
Grandma looked up sharply. âAnd thatâs your foolishness.â
The air between them grew taut.
âYouâll care,â Grandma continued, her words cutting but shaking, âuntil hunger knocks at your door and thereâs no one to open it. Until people call you his wife and pity you both for having nothing. Do you think I want that for you? To live like a beggar because of love?â
Y/Nâs eyes filled. âHeâs not nothing, Grandma. Heâs kind, heâs honest, and he works harder than anyone I know.â
âAnd yet,â Grandma interrupted, âhe will never have enough to give you the life you deserve.â
âI donât want a rich life,â Y/N snapped, voice breaking. âI just want to live with him. Thatâs enough for me.â
âDonât you dare,â Grandma hissed, slamming her palm on the table. âDonât you dare talk to me like I havenât lived through the same foolishness youâre falling into. I lost enough to know how these things end.â
The room went still. The only sound was the faint hiss of the lamp.
Y/Nâs throat ached. âSo thatâs it? You think because heâs poor, he doesnât deserve me?â
âI think because heâs poor, youâll suffer,â Grandma said firmly. âAnd when that happens, youâll curse me for not stopping you.â
Y/N pushed her bowl away, anger and heartbreak twisting in her chest. âYou donât understand,â she whispered. âYou think love is a mistake just because it doesnât come wrapped in gold.â
Grandmaâs eyes softened for just a moment. âNo, child. I think love needs more than dreams to survive.â
But Y/N was already rising, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. âYou can call it a dream, but itâs real to me. Heâs real to me.â
âThen youâre blind.â
âMaybe I am,â Y/N said.
Her grandmother looked at her, face caught between anger and grief. âYouâre my only family, Y/N. Everything Iâve done itâs to keep you safe. Canât you see that?â
âIâm not a child anymore,â Y/N whispered. âYou canât keep me safe from my own heart.â
Her words hung in the air, trembling like a thread pulled too tight.
Then, without another word, she turned away.
The door to her room slammed shut, the sound echoing through the little house.
Grandma sat there for a long while, her spoon untouched, the lamp flame shaking with her shallow breath. Her eyes glistened, but she blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.
For three days, Y/N didnât step near the banyan tree where she and Jungkook used to meet.
The path that once felt like her heartbeat now felt like a wound she couldnât touch.
She busied herself with small things washing clothes even when they were already clean, helping her grandmother grind spices, sweeping the yard until the dust rose like pale smoke. Every movement was a distraction. Every silence was a punishment.
Jungkook must have noticed. Of course he did.
The boy who could read the sky like a storybook wouldâve read her silence just as easily.
By the fourth day, when the air hung heavy with the promise of rain, he came.
Y/N saw him from the window first standing near the gate, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders slightly bent. He didnât call her name. He just waited.
The thin drizzle had started, soft and uncertain, like it was testing the world before falling harder.
Her heart ached with every drop that hit the earth.
Inside, Grandma sat on the verandah, rolling betel leaves, her expression unreadable. She noticed him too. Her eyes flickered once then went back to her work.
No word. No acknowledgment. Just silence and the rhythmic sound of leaves being folded.
Y/N wanted to go out.
Every part of her screamed to step forward, to ask him why heâd come, or maybe to tell him not to stand there in the rain like a fool.
But her grandmotherâs quiet presence felt heavier than any chain.
So she stayed half-hidden behind the curtain watching.
Jungkook waited.
For a long time.
The rain began to fall harder now, soaking through his shirt.
When the drizzle turned into a downpour, he finally lowered his head, as if accepting something he had no words for. He turned away, walking back down the muddy road shoes sinking into the earth, his shadow stretching long behind him.
Y/Nâs chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.
For a moment, she thought Grandma would say something anything.
But the older woman just kept rolling the leaves, her hands steady, her face still.
The rain had washed the streets clean by the time Y/N decided she couldnât take it anymore.
The night was cool, the air carrying the scent of wet earth and jasmine.
Grandma had long gone to bed, her gentle snores barely audible from the next room.
Y/N stood by the window, her heart thudding like a drum. The fight, the guilt, the image of Jungkook standing in the rain it all tangled inside her until she couldnât breathe.
She slipped her shawl over her shoulders and stepped out quietly, the wooden door creaking just enough to make her flinch. The village was silent lamps flickering low, dogs curled up in the corners of verandahs, the world caught in that hush after rain.
She walked quickly, her sandals brushing against puddles.
Jungkookâs house a small one-room place behind the workshop was dimly lit. He sat outside under the old tree, fixing something with his hands, the glow of the lantern soft against his tired face.
When he saw her, he froze.
âY/N?â His voice was soft at first, uncertain like he was afraid she might vanish if he spoke too loud. But then his tone shifted, surprise turning quickly into concern. He stood, wiping his hands on his trousers. âWhat are you doing here? At this hour?â
Y/N hesitated, her breath uneven. âI⌠I needed to see you.â
âAre you out of your mind?â Jungkook whispered harshly, glancing toward the road as if someone might have followed her. âItâs past midnight. What if someone saw you sneaking around like this?â
âI donât care,â she said, her voice trembling but steady.
Y/N turned to him, her eyes already wet. âI saw you that day⌠waiting outside.â
He smiled faintly that same half-smile that had once made her heart flutter. âI thought youâd come out.â
âI wanted to,â she whispered. âBut Grandma was there. SheâŚâ She looked away. âShe knows about us.â
Jungkookâs shoulders tensed. âWhat did she say?â
âShe thinks youâre trouble,â Y/N said quietly. âThat you donât have anyone⌠no family, no money, nothing. She says Iâll end up the same if I stay with you.â
The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
Jungkookâs jaw tightened, his eyes lowering. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly âSheâs not wrong about some of that.â
âDonât,â Y/N said quickly, stepping closer. âYouâre not what she thinks you are. Youâre kind. YouâŚâ She stopped herself, her breath catching.
He looked up at her, and for a heartbeat, neither spoke. The air between them was warm despite the nightâs chill the kind of warmth that felt like safety and ache at once.
âI didnât mean to cause trouble for you,â he said softly. âMaybe itâs better ifââ
âDonât you dare,â Y/N interrupted, her voice trembling. âDonât you dare finish that.â
Her eyes glistened as she stepped forward, her hands clutching his shirt.
He looked at her like he wanted to say a hundred things, but all that came out was her name a whisper, fragile and full. âY/NâŚâ
Her tears broke then not loud, not messy, just quiet trails that fell as she leaned her forehead against his chest.
âIâm sorry,â she whispered. âI didnât know what to do.â
Jungkook lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before letting it rest against her hair. âYou donât have to apologize. I just wanted to know you still cared.â
She laughed softly through her tears. âI never stopped.â
For a while, they stood like that two hearts finding each other again in the quiet, the moon their only witness.
Jungkook pulled her away from his chest, his hands firm on her shoulders. His eyes searched hers in the pale moonlight, and what he saw the fear, the love, the absolute commitment answered every desperate question he had.
He didn't speak another word. He turned, taking her hand, his touch rough and immediate, and led her back the way they came, moving faster now. They didn't stop until they reached his small, solitary house behind the workshop.
He pushed the door open, the rough wood scraping against the packed earth floor. The room was Spartan a simple pallet bed in the corner, a small table, and the faint, enduring smell of metal and wood shavings. It was his whole, tiny, vulnerable world.
Jungkook closed the door, shutting out the village, the moon, and the silent judgment of the world. He turned to Y/N, his jaw set with a fierce, absolute determination.
He pulled her into his arms, the kiss that followed desperate and consuming a brutal affirmation of their defiant choice. He crushed her against the solid wall of his chest, pushing her shawl down her shoulders until it fell to the floor, forgotten.
His mouth broke away from hers, traveling down her throat. He found the lace ties of her simple tunic and ripped them open with a fierce urgency. The fabric fell away, exposing the sensitive skin of her chest, the cool night air hitting her heated skin.
He moved her back, pinning her against the wall with his body, his hands tearing at the thin linen of her skirt, pushing it up and away, his fingers finding the heat hidden beneath.
Y/N gasped, a raw, primal sound of surrender and relief. She tangled her fingers in the coarse fabric of his shirt, pulling, urging him to strip away the last barriers.
He finally tore his mouth away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed tight against the fear and the overwhelming urgency.
"I have nothing," he confessed, the words strained and thick with his terror. "But I have this. I have you. And I have never..." he struggled for the words, "I have never wanted anyone but you."
Y/N reached up, her hands cupping his cheeks, her fingers rough against his stubble. "I know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Me either, Kook. We are only for each other."
He claimed her mouth again, a kiss that was now profoundly tender, fueled by the staggering weight of their shared inexperience. He lowered his head, his mouth seeking her exposed breast, drawing on her with a singular, reverent focus that made her hips instinctively press against him.
He lifted his hand, fumbling slightly, still clothed, as he pushed against the core of her warmth, tracing slow, insistent circles. Y/N cried out, the sharp, exquisite sensation coupled with the desperate honesty of his touch, overwhelming her.
With a shuddering breath, Jungkook pulled back. He swept her into his arms, carrying her the few steps to his bed. He laid her down gently, his eyes never leaving hers, and followed her down, his body a trembling weight over hers.
They worked together then, shedding the last of their clothes in the dim light the last remaining boundary between their separate lives. The sight of her untouched body, delicate and perfect, made his breath hitch. The sight of his powerful, unblemished form made her heart hammer against her ribs.
He covered her with his body, his skin warm and unexpectedly soft against hers. He moved slowly, deliberately, tracing the smooth skin of her inner thigh, his movement hesitant, marked by a fear of hurting her.
"I Love You" he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "So much."
The afternoon sun slanted through the windows in soft, golden stripes, the kind that made dust motes shimmer like drifting stars.
In her room, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, a piece of pale blue fabric spread across her lap. Sheâd been working on it since morning a tunic for Jungkook. The threads of silver embroidery caught the light as she bent over it, her fingers moving with quiet focus.
From the kitchen came the familiar clatter of utensils, the sound of Grandma humming an old tune. It was a melody Y/N had heard all her life low, soft, like a prayer whispered to the walls. The rhythm of it calmed her.
âAlmost done,â Y/N murmured to herself, trimming a stray thread with her small scissors. âHe better like this one, or Iâllââ
A sound cut her off.
A dull thud.
Then the sharp clang of a metal pot hitting the floor.
Y/Nâs needle slipped from her hand. Her head shot up. âGrandma?â
No answer.
The house went silent, except for the faint hiss of something burning on the stove. A chill rushed through her. She rose to her feet at once, her heart beginning to race. âGrandma!â
Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she ran out of the room, the blue fabric slipping from her lap and pooling on the ground.
The kitchen door was half-open, swaying slightly. When Y/N pushed it wider, her breath caught.
Grandma was lying on the floor near the stove, her body slumped to one side, a ladle still in her hand. The pot beside her had overturned, the lentils spilling in a yellow puddle across the tiles. The smell of burnt food hung heavy in the air.
âGrandma!â Y/N dropped to her knees beside her, hands trembling as she lifted her gently by the shoulders. âGrandma, pleaseâ wake upââ
Her voice broke. The older womanâs face was pale, her breathing shallow but there. Relief and terror tangled together in Y/Nâs chest.
âPlease, please,â she whispered, her fingers brushing Grandmaâs hair back from her forehead.
Her hands were shaking too badly to think. For a moment, everything blurred the smell, the heat, the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
She looked toward the door, panic sharpening her voice. âHelp! Someone, please!â Her cry echoed down the street, carried by the still air of the afternoon.
The neighbors came running, alarmed by her voice. Together, they lifted her grandmother onto a cot, hurriedly carrying her through the narrow lanes to the nearest hospital.
The small town clinic smelled faintly of old medicines and dust. A single fan creaked above, stirring the heavy afternoon heat. The walls were pale, worn from years of use, and the wooden benches were hard beneath Y/Nâs hands.
She sat outside the room where the doctor examined her grandmother, her heart thudding so loudly it drowned out every other sound. The neighbor who helped bring them here had already gone home after making sure they arrived safely, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.
Every few seconds, she glanced at the thin curtain that separated her from the room inside. She could hear muffled voices the doctor giving instructions, the soft rustle of cloth, her grandmotherâs faint breathing.
When the door finally opened, Y/N stood before she could think. The doctor stepped out, a middle-aged man with tired eyes that spoke before his words did.
âSheâs resting for now,â he said gently, eyes meeting Y/Nâs. âBut you must be brave, child. Your grandmotherâs heart is very weak. Itâs been failing for a long time the muscles are too tired now. There isnât much time left⌠six months at best, maybe less.â
The words seemed to hang in the air, unmoving, like the heat that refused to leave the room.
Y/N blinked, as if she hadnât heard him right. âNo⌠no, she was fine just yesterday. She was cooking, talkingâŚâ Her voice cracked. âShe canâtââ
The doctor sighed softly. âThese things donât show until itâs too late. Take her home. Let her rest. Donât let her worry about anything.â
For a moment, Y/N just stood there. The words floated in the air between them unreal, like smoke and then they sank, heavy and cruel, crushing the breath out of her.
Six months.
Her knees gave way, and she sank onto the bench, her eyes blank, her hands cold. She wanted to ask how, why, what could be done but no sound came. The doctor rested a hand on her shoulder, murmured something about medications, rest, and care words she barely heard.
As soon as he left, silence swallowed her whole.
Her heart pounded painfully, each beat echoing the truth she refused to accept. The woman who had raised her, who had stood like a wall between her and the world was fading. The same woman who scolded her for skipping breakfast, who mended her torn clothes.
Tears blurred her vision, falling unchecked down her cheeks. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to stop the sob that tore its way out. Her chest ached so fiercely it felt like her heart might break with it.
But inside, Y/Nâs world had stopped.
Her only family her whole world was slipping away, and no amount of love, no amount of prayer, could stop it. She bowed her head and cried, silently, the sound swallowed by the rain.
Y/N sat by the bedside, her eyes swollen, her hands trembling as she tucked the blanket tighter around Grandmaâs frail shoulders.
The journey back from the town clinic had been silent. Y/N hadnât spoken once she couldnât. Each breath she took hurt, as if it scraped against her chest.
Now, in the quiet of their small room, the truth finally sank in. The sound of the distant temple bell echoed faintly through the air, marking the close of another day â a day that had broken something inside her.
Grandma turned her head slightly, her face pale but still calm, her voice steady in a way that made Y/Nâs heart ache even more. âDonât look at me like that, child,â she whispered, her lips curling into the faintest smile. âIâve lived my share of years. The gods have been kind.â
Y/N shook her head, tears spilling again. âDonât say that, please. Youâll get better. The doctor doesnât know he could be wrong.â Her voice cracked, the words coming out small and desperate.
Grandma reached out, her thin, wrinkled hand trembling slightly as it brushed Y/Nâs cheek. âAh, foolish girl⌠always arguing with fate.â
Y/N caught her hand and pressed it to her face, the tears wetting Grandmaâs palm. âYou canât leave me,â she said through sobs. âYouâre all I have. Who will I cook for? Who will scold me when I forget to close the gate? Who will I talk to?â
Grandmaâs smile deepened, though her eyes glistened too. âYouâll live, my heart. Thatâs what youâll do. Youâll wake when the morning rooster calls, and youâll keep this house alive even when Iâm gone. Youâll sew, youâll laugh, youâll love.â She paused, her thumb tracing Y/Nâs cheek as if memorizing it. âAnd youâll marry, Y/N. Youâll wear the silk Iâve saved for you, and Iâll sit right thereââ she pointed weakly to the corner stool, ââand watch you smile with your groom.â
Y/N choked on her tears, shaking her head wildly. âNo⌠no, I wonât marry without you there. I wonât.â
Grandma let out a soft laugh, low and weary. âSilly girl. You think death can keep me from you? Iâll be there in every wind that brushes your hair, in every light that falls through that window.â She took a slow breath, her eyes half-closing. âBut before I go⌠I want to see you settled. I want to see you happy. I want to hold your child in my arms. Only then, will I rest.â
That broke her. Y/N fell forward, her forehead pressing into Grandmaâs chest, the sobs tearing from her like the sky had split open. Grandmaâs thin arms wrapped around her, holding her close weak but full of love that had carried through generations.
âShh,â she whispered, stroking Y/Nâs hair. âDonât cry, my child. Donât waste your tears on what even the heavens have written. You were born to keep living, not to stop because of me.â
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Y/N stayed wrapped in her grandmotherâs arms, her tears soaking through the old womanâs clothes. The rhythm of Grandmaâs heartbeat was faint but steady each thump a reminder that she was still here, still fighting to stay.
And as the night deepened, Grandma whispered again, her voice barely more than air, âPromise me, Y/N⌠when I go, you wonât stop living.â
Y/N nodded against her chest, unable to speak.
Grandma smiled faintly, her eyes soft and distant. âGood girl,â she murmured, her hand resting in Y/Nâs hair. âThatâs my brave one.â
The oil lamp hissed softly. The wind outside stirred the prayer chimes. And in that tiny, fragile moment between grief and love, between holding on and letting go time stood still for both of them.
The days that followed folded into one another like worn pages of a book quiet, faded, and heavy with the scent of medicine and boiled rice.
The sewing shop no longer stood open by the marketplace; Y/N had shifted it home. The wooden sign that once hung above the shop door now rested against the wall near their porch, and the gentle hum of her work filled the house instead.
She brought everything back herself the bolts of cloth, the baskets of thread, the tin box of buttons, even the little stool that had always creaked under her grandmotherâs feet.
Grandma had scolded her at first, her frail voice trembling with both love and fatigue.
âYou shouldnât have moved everything here,â she said, lying back on her mat as Y/N arranged folded fabrics near the window. âCustomers wonât come all the way to the house. The shop belonged in the market.â
Y/N paused, brushing dust from her palms before turning to her. âThen Iâll take their work when I visit town. I can sew here, and you can rest without worrying.â
Her grandmother frowned, half in protest, half in surrender. âYouâll tire yourself out, child.â
Y/N only smiled a soft, weary smile that didnât quite reach her eyes. âIâd rather be tired here than away from you.â
And that was the end of it. The argument never came again.
Soon, the little house was filled with the familiar sounds of thread pulling through fabric and scissors snipping over patterns. Between stitches, Y/N checked on Grandma, making sure her blanket was tucked, her tea still warm, her medicine given on time.
Every glance at the older womanâs thinning frame made her chest ache a little more but she never showed it. She just kept working, her hands steady even when her heart wasnât.
One afternoon, the sunlight slanted through the doors, warm and lazy. Grandma was resting, her breathing soft and steady. Y/N was peeling apples when she heard a faint knock on the gate.
She froze, the sound familiar in a way that made her heart twist. Slowly, she stood and walked out.
There, beyond the low fence, stood Jungkook. His shirt was rolled at the sleeves, his face slightly flushed from walking in the heat. His hands were empty except for a small bundle of oranges wrapped in a handkerchief.
âJungkookâŚâ Y/Nâs voice caught, quiet and unsure.
He smiled faintly, though concern flickered in his eyes. âI came by to check on your grandma,â he said softly. âIf that's okay?â
Y/N shook her head quickly. âNo, never. Itâs justââ
His expression gentled even more. âCan I⌠see her?â
Y/N hesitated again, but then nodded. âSheâll like that.â
He stepped inside, careful not to make noise, his boots brushing dust from the threshold.
Grandma lay on her side, her hands folded over her chest, her eyes half open she had heard him come in.
âAh,â she said softly, her lips curling into a frail smile. âSo the boy still remembers us.â
Jungkook bowed deeply. âI could never forget you, halmeoni,â he said, his tone gentle, respectful. âI brought some oranges. The doctor said fruits help with strength.â
Grandma chuckled weakly. âYou and your doctor advice. I donât need strength, I need peace.â
He looked down, awkwardly rubbing his hands together.
Her gaze shifted to Jungkook. âYouâve opened your own shop, havenât you?â
He nodded. âYes. Itâs small, but⌠itâs mine.â
âGood,â Grandma said quietly. âA man should have work in his hands. Keeps his heart steady.â She paused, studying him with a look that seemed to go deeper than words. âYou love her, donât you?â
Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. His throat tightened. âI⌠I do.â
Y/N turned sharply, eyes wide. âGrandmaââ
But the old woman only smiled, a little wistful, a little knowing. âItâs alright. Iâve known it for a long time.â Her voice grew gentler. âWhen you love someone, truly⌠it shows in the smallest things. The way you look when sheâs not watching.â
Jungkook lowered his gaze, his voice trembling slightly. âThen you also know Iâd never hurt her.â
âI do,â Grandma said softly. âBut the world isnât always as kind as your heart, boy.â
He looked up then, meeting her gaze strong, despite the years between them. âThen Iâll protect her from it,â he said. âNo matter what people say.â
For a moment, silence filled the room heavy, but not cold.
Grandmaâs eyes glistened, her lips trembling with something caught between pride and fear. âYou talk like a man, but youâre still young. Loveâs easy when days are warm. Harder when winters come.â
âIâll stay,â he said simply. âThrough all of it.â
Grandma looked at him for a long time, then reached for Y/Nâs hand. âThen stay, both of you,â she whispered. âAt least until I can sleep easy.â
Y/Nâs eyes welled up again, her hand tightening around her grandmotherâs. Jungkook knelt beside them, bowing his head and for that moment, in that small sunlit room, it felt like the world outside had paused. The village gossip, the fear, the uncertainty all faded, leaving only the quiet rhythm of three hearts bound by love, loss, and the fragile hope of more tomorrows.
The evening was soft and golden, the kind that felt like it could hold secrets between its folds.
Outside Y/Nâs small home, the stone steps still held the warmth of the sun.
Jungkook sat there first, elbows on his knees, his gaze wandering over the quiet yard.
Y/N came out carrying two steaming cups of barley tea. Her hands trembled slightly from exhaustion days of caring for her grandmother, of sleepless nights spent listening to shallow breathing and quiet murmurs in the dark.
She set one cup beside him, then sank down between his legs, leaning back gently until her shoulders rested against his chest.
Jungkookâs arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers brushing the soft fabric of her dress.
âYouâve been holding everything together,â he said finally, his voice low, carrying the kind of tenderness that a person only uses when theyâre afraid the other might break.
Y/N didnât answer. She only stared ahead at the empty road, her lips pressed together, eyes glassy. The scent of dried herbs and boiled rice clung faintly to her hair.
âShe doesnât eat much anymore,â Y/N said after a while, her voice breaking the stillness like a whisper through silk. âSome nights she talks in her sleep. I⌠I donât know what to do when she does.â
Jungkook tightened his arms around her. âYouâre doing more than anyone could,â he murmured. âYou brought her home, youâre taking care of her. You even moved the shop here.â
Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh. âThe customers donât come anymore. Maybe they think itâs too far. Maybe theyâve already found someone else.â She paused. âBut I canât leave her. Not when she still looks at me and says sheâll live until she sees me in a wedding dress.â
Her voice cracked at that, the words shattering in the air like porcelain. Jungkook felt her body shake not the soft tremor of cold, but the deep, uncontrollable shudder that comes when a personâs heart finally spills over. He didnât say anything. Instead, he pressed his forehead gently against the back of her head, closing his eyes as if to absorb her pain through silence.
âY/N,â he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, âyou donât have to be strong all the time.â
Her tears fell then, quietly, tracing thin lines down her cheeks. âIf I stop being strong,â she whispered back, âwho will she have?â
He turned her slightly so that she was facing him now, her face wet and trembling in the dim light. His thumb brushed under her eye, wiping away the tears. âShe has you. And youâŚâ He paused, âYou have me.â
The look in her eyes softened fragile, uncertain, but filled with something that felt like relief.
She leaned into him, her forehead resting against his collarbone, her tears dampening the fabric of his robe. He held her tighter, his chin settling atop her head. The air around them was still, the world reduced to the rhythm of two heartbeats one steady, one breaking.
After a while, she whispered, âDo you think sheâll get better?â
Jungkookâs hand moved slowly, tracing circles on her back. âI donât know,â he admitted softly. âBut if the heavens are kind, theyâll give her more time. Enough to see you smile again.â
Her lips trembled into a small, broken smile. âShe says she wants to meet my children,â she said, almost laughing through her tears.
âThen she will,â Jungkook murmured. âSheâll stay long enough to see them run through this yard.â
For a long time, they sat like that the world quiet around them, the stars beginning to scatter like dust over the darkening sky. Y/N leaned back once more, her head against his shoulder. His arms remained around her, unmoving, steady like the earth beneath them.
The room was filled with the faint rustle of fabric and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound that dared to disturb the stillness. A beam of pale light slipped through the window, landing gently across Grandma âs blanket, tracing the fine lines of her frail hands.
She sat upright against a mound of pillows, her breaths slow and uneven, yet her eyes dim but alert held that same tenderness that had guided Y/N through every storm in her life.
Y/N stood by the doorway at first, her hands clutching the edge of her skirt, uncertain why her grandmother had called her and Jungkook into the room together.
Jungkook followed quietly, his usual ease replaced by a careful stillness, as though one wrong movement might shatter the fragile calm.
Grandmaâs gaze lifted to meet them both. She smiled weak, but full of warmth. âCome closer, my children,â she said softly.
Her voice carried the kind of gentleness that made Y/Nâs chest ache. She obeyed, walking slowly until she knelt by her grandmotherâs side. Jungkook followed, bowing his head respectfully before settling on the floor beside Y/N.
For a long moment, Grandma said nothing. Her fingers, thin and trembling, reached out to touch Y/Nâs cheek, tracing the curve of her face like she was memorizing it. Then, she sighed. âIâve lived many years,â she began, her voice quivering, âand I have seen the world change in ways I never imagined. But lately⌠I can feel it.â Her hand dropped slightly, pressing against her chest. âThe end is near, my dear.â
The words fell like stones in the room. Y/Nâs eyes widened, her breath catching. She shook her head immediately, tears already welling. âDonât say that,â she whispered, her voice breaking. âPlease, donât say that. Youâre getting better, the doctor saidââ
Grandma gave a soft, almost amused sigh. âDoctors say many things to ease the heart, child. But I know my body better than anyone.â Her lips trembled into a faint smile. âItâs growing tired.â
Y/N broke then her composure, her strength, everything she had held together for months. Her hands reached for her grandmotherâs, clutching them tightly as if sheer will could keep her here longer. âYou canât go,â she cried. âNot yet, please. You promised me⌠you promised youâd stay until I marry. You said youâd see me in my dress.â
Tears streamed freely down her face now, her words coming out between ragged breaths. âYou said youâd wait.â
Grandmaâs fingers brushed her hair gently, her touch as soft as it had been when Y/N was a child. âAnd I meant it,â she whispered. âI will hold on as long as I can. But my dear⌠even promises have to bow to time.â
Jungkook sat quietly beside them, his throat tight. He wanted to say something anything to ease Y/Nâs pain, but every word he thought of felt small, useless. Instead, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, a silent promise that she wasnât alone.
Grandmaâs eyes flickered toward him then, and a faint, knowing smile touched her lips. âYou,â she said softly, her gaze steady on Jungkook, âyou care for her deeply, donât you?â
Jungkookâs eyes widened slightly, but he didnât look away. He bowed his head once, his voice barely above a whisper. âMore than I can ever say.â
Grandma nodded slowly. She turned back to Y/N, her wrinkled hand cupping her granddaughterâs face once more. âMy child⌠I wonât be here to see your children run through this yard, or to braid your hair on your wedding day. I wonât be there when your hands tremble while tying your daughterâs first ribbon.â
Her voice broke then, a quiet sob escaping her lips. âIâm sorry, Y/N. Iâm so sorry I wonât see it all.â
âDonât,â Y/N whispered desperately, shaking her head as tears poured down her cheeks. âDonât apologize. Youâve done everything for me. Everything. â Her voice cracked, and she pressed her forehead to her grandmotherâs hand, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably. âPlease donât say sorry.â
He reached out again, this time taking Grandmaâs other hand gently in his. âShe wonât be alone,â he said, his voice low but steady. âI promise you. Iâll stay. Iâll take care of her the way sheâs always taken care of you.â
Grandmaâs lips trembled, and for a moment, her eyes glistened with tears she didnât try to hide. âThen my heart is at peace,â she whispered. âBecause I know sheâll never be alone.â
Y/N lifted her head, her face streaked with tears, and looked between the two of them the two people she loved most in the world.
Something inside her ached so deeply she thought it might tear her apart.
Grandma squeezed her hand weakly. âWhen you marry,â she said, her voice faint but sure, âwear the ribbon I gave you when you were sixteen. The white one. Itâs yours now. And donât cry too much when Iâm gone.â Her lips curved into a shaky smile. âIâll just be resting. Watching. Waiting for you to fill this house with laughter again.â
Y/N let out a broken sob, clutching her grandmotherâs hand as though she could anchor her to the world.
Jungkook wrapped his arm around Y/N then, pulling her close as she buried her face against his shoulder, her sobs muffled by the fabric of his robe. Grandmaâs eyes lingered on them, her expression soft and full of quiet joy.
Three days later, dawn came quietly a pale light spilling across the small house where Grandma lay. Her breathing, which had grown faint and uneven through the night, finally ceased just as the first bird called outside.
There was no sound of struggle, no sharp farewell only the soft, still peace of someone who had given everything she had to the world and was now ready to rest.
Y/N sat beside her, her hand still wrapped around her grandmotherâs. The warmth had already begun to fade, but Y/N couldnât let go. Her tears came soundlessly, falling onto the blanket.
Jungkook was there too, standing quietly by the doorway, his face pale, his hands trembling though he tried to keep them steady.
Word spread quickly through the village. Neighbors came one by one, bowing at the threshold, their voices low with sympathy. The house filled with the muted rhythm of grief hushed footsteps, rustling white cloth, the soft beating of a drum somewhere beyond the courtyard.
The traditional rites began that same day. The elders arrived to guide the ceremony, their white robes fluttering like calm waves.
The air carried the scent of burning incense and chrysanthemum flowers, their smoke curling upward as prayers were whispered for Grandma âs peaceful journey.
By the time the final rites were done, the sun had dipped low, casting long, soft shadows across the earth. The villagers bowed once more and left, their lanterns swaying as they disappeared down the path.
That night, the house stood quiet again. Jungkook stayed beside her in silence, his presence the only thing that kept the emptiness from swallowing her whole.
Grandma had left gently, as if carried away by something unseen her spirit now part of the same stillness that wrapped the village at night. And though her voice no longer filled the house, its echo remained in the scent of old fabric, in the wind that brushed past the garden, in every small, quiet breath that Y/N took.
The months that followed were gentle, carrying with them a quiet kind of healing.
The tailoring shop, once shuttered and silent, now breathed again with the sound of humming sewing machines and the soft rustle of fabric.
Y/N had reopened it in the village market, arranging spools of thread and folded cloth with a careful, steady hand. Every corner of the small space felt alive again, yet held echoes of the past memories of her grandmother guiding her, the warmth of her hands brushing against hers as they stitched together.
Standing beside her, Jungkook moved with quiet strength, carrying bundles of cloth or fixing the stubborn machine that occasionally hiccupped.
His presence was steady, unspoken, like an anchor in the swirl of Y/Nâs thoughts. She would glance at him sometimes, heart catching, and feel that familiar flutter she had tried to ignore a soft, steady warmth that reminded her she wasnât alone in the world anymore.
Grief still lingered at the edges. Y/N sometimes paused, fingers brushing over the small corner of the shop where her grandmotherâs favorite teacup still sat, or when a piece of thread tangled stubbornly between her fingers.
Her chest would tighten, and her eyes would glisten with unbidden tears, the ache of loss rolling quietly through her. But each time, Jungkook was there silently steady, hand brushing against hers in reassurance, presence unshakable. It was as if he carried her sorrow so she didnât have to bear it entirely alone.
In those moments, the pain of absence was still raw, but it no longer crippled her. She allowed herself to feel, to remember, to grieve, and to smile at the same time.
The shop hummed with life again, not just from the machines or the marketâs chatter, but from the quiet pulse of companionship, of trust, of a shared world rebuilt from the fragments of what had been lost.
Y/N had begun to understand that grief and love could coexist that sorrow didnât erase joy, and that moving forward didnât mean forgetting. And in the soft, constant presence of Jungkook, she felt the world opening gently around her, a life stitched together with care, patience, and the quiet certainty that she was no longer alone.
Jungkook had insisted on taking Y/N somewhere different tonight, a place she hadnât stepped into before a small eatery tucked along a narrow stone-paved lane, its wooden sign carved with delicate letters and its windows reflecting the fading light.
It wasnât a lavish place by any means, but compared to the simple, bustling market stalls she was used to, it felt like stepping into a quiet, gilded corner of another world.
Y/N felt a flutter in her chest as they entered, Jungkook guiding her hand lightly, his fingers brushing hers for a fraction of a second enough to make her pulse stutter.
The tables were simple, polished wood, yet the chairs were cushioned, and the gentle scent of sizzling food and spices hung in the air.
They were seated near the window, overlooking a small garden courtyard where a few delicate plants swayed in the soft breeze.
Y/N watched them, the corners of her mouth lifting in a quiet smile. She could feel Jungkookâs gaze, heavy but soft, and it made her aware of the way her hands fidgeted with the napkin in her lap.
âYou like it?â he asked, voice low, carrying the weight of curiosity and something unspoken beneath.
Y/N glanced up at him, âItâs⌠nice,â she said, letting her eyes wander over the polished wooden table, the steaming bowls in front of them. âDifferent from what Iâm used to. Quiet. Calm.â
He leaned back slightly, studying her. âQuiet suits you,â he murmured, half teasing, half serious. âNot the rushing, the shouting. Just⌠this.â
Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze, pretending to examine the rice on her plate. âYou donât have to flatter me,â she whispered, though her lips curved despite herself.
âIâm not,â he replied softly, leaning a fraction closer. âI just⌠like seeing you like this. Relaxed.â
The words lingered in the space between them, a gentle tension that made the air thick and sweet.
The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and the river that wound its way through the village.
The village behind them seemed distant and quiet, the marketâs clamor and the chatter of neighbors replaced by the soft hum of crickets and the gentle lapping of water along the riverbank.
Jungkook walked beside Y/N, his steps slower than usual. Each time he glanced at her, a warmth surged in his chest that made him stumble over his own thoughts.
He wasnât used to feeling this exposed, this⌠open. He had spent years keeping everything inside, building walls around his heart after losing everything he had. But tonight, standing beside her in this secluded corner of the village, he felt his walls crumble.
Y/N noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his hands brushed against his thighs repeatedly as if he were unsure what to do with them. Her lips quirked into a teasing smile, and she nudged him lightly with her elbow. âYouâre acting strange,â she said, her voice carrying that playful lilt she reserved just for him. âDo I need to remind you how to behave?â
Jungkookâs gaze shot to her, and for a fleeting second, she caught a flicker of something he rarely allowed anyone to see vulnerability, nervousness, a raw emotion that made her heart tighten. âI⌠Iâm not strange,â he murmured, though his voice betrayed him, trembling just enough for her to notice.
âYou are,â Y/N teased, her dark eyes sparkling in the lantern light. âYouâre fidgeting, shifting your weight, and you keep looking at me like I just solved a riddle in your head. Whatâs going on, Jungkook?â
He exhaled slowly, fighting the impulse to just reach for her hand and hold it. âItâs⌠itâs nothing,â he said, but his voice was softer, quieter, and Y/N knew better than to believe him.
She leaned closer, brushing her shoulder against his, her laughter low and melodic. âNothing? Youâre more nervous than a child stealing a plum from the market.â
Jungkookâs lips twitched into a faint smile, almost imperceptible. His heart pounded faster, and he felt a sudden surge of determination. Tonight, he couldnât wait any longer. Every moment they had spent together, every stolen glance and shared laughter, had led to this.
He reached into the small pouch he had carried with him all day, his fingers trembling as they closed around the polished wooden box inside.
âY/N,â he began, his voice low, steadying himself against the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over, âthereâs something I need to tell you. Something Iâve been meaning toâŚâ His words faltered as his throat tightened. He cleared it, swallowing hard. âI canât imagine⌠not having you in my life. Not like this. Not ever.â
Y/Nâs eyes widened, her heart catching at the intensity in his gaze. She could feel the tension in the air, the electricity that ran between them. The river beside them shimmered under the lantern light, reflecting their emotions like a silent witness.
He knelt down slowly, the wooden box resting on his palm, and opened it to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. The polished metal gleamed softly in the lantern glow.
Jungkookâs hands were steady now, but his eyes held the nervous anticipation of a boy confessing something far larger than words could contain.
âY/N,â he said, his voice now firm yet tinged with vulnerability, âfrom the first day I met you⌠from the moment you laughed like the whole world could disappear and only we would remain, I knew I wanted to spend my life with you. Youâve been my strength, my home, my heart. And I canât think of a single day without you. Will you marry me?â
Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her lips trembling as she processed the weight of his words. Her chest ached with the intensity of her emotions love, fear, joy, and the bittersweet memory of her grandmother who had always wished for her happiness.
Her hand reached for his without thinking, fingers brushing against his as if to anchor herself in reality.
âYes,â she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion, âyes, Jungkook. I will marry you.â
Relief and joy flooded his face in a way she had never seen before. He took her hand gently, slipping the ring onto her finger, the simple metal gleaming against her skin like a promise. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her knuckles a silent vow that carried all his love, all his devotion.
Y/N laughed softly, a sound mingling with her tears, and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and for a long moment, they simply existed in that perfect stillness.
âYou know,â she murmured, her voice teasing but soft, âyou looked so nervous back there, I thought youâd faint before asking me.â
Jungkook chuckled, resting his forehead lightly against hers. âI was scared⌠scared Iâd say the wrong thing. Scared that you wouldnât feel the same.â
âYouâre ridiculous,â Y/N said, her voice trembling with laughter and tears. âIâve loved you for so long, and you think youâre asking a question? You already own my heart.â
He tightened his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest. âThen Iâll spend the rest of my life proving it to you,â he whispered.
They stayed like that for hours, talking softly, laughing, and stealing quiet glances under the lantern light. The river sang its gentle song, the wind rustled through the trees, and the village seemed to hold its breath around them. Every brush of their hands, every shared smile, every tender look was a silent vow a promise of a life together that neither time nor sorrow could undo.
In that secluded corner of their world, they were free. Free from judgment, from worry, from the hardships of the past. They had only each other, and that was more than enough.
pairing: managing partner/lawyer!jungkook x spoiled brat!reader ft. yoongi
genre: strangers/lowkey one sided enemies to ?? idk bec you irk him, angst, smut, like slight fluff, infidelity au (jungkook has a girlfriend aand it's not you yet?)
wc: 13.3k
warnings: this is a series! so please visit the killlah (jjk) [series masterlist] for a tiny summary and some extra info :3 noowww, in this chapter, you can expect: major oc crashout, mention of the b word, minor hyewon crashout, emotional cheating, mention of light smut, some slut shaming. oh and namjoon calls oc 'doll.' (deal.)
!!extra disclaimer!! you've got to excuse me once again because i'm tagging this as unedited! i haven't read the chapter one go yet, but i've read all the sections separately multiple tiems and i am just, so,so lazy,,,nnghmffgh
Once again, Jungkook finds himself in a situation where he feels like he needs to apologise to you.Â
This time though, he has mixed feelings about it. And those thoughts had to be put on pause for now.
Undoing the silky makeshift blindfold from his girlfriendâs eyes, he gently pulls out of Hyewon, earning a hiss from her.Â
He pulled the condom off, tying it at the opening and tossed it in the bin with ease.Â
He was tucking himself back in when he heard Hyewonâs shy call, âKook...â - âMhm?â Jungkook walked back to her, caressing her hip as she rested in the same position for a few seconds, regaining her composure.Â
âI love youâŚâ Hyewon smiles bashfully.Â
He hums, smirking at her through the mirror. âI know you do.âÂ
She giggles then playfully frowns at him. Hyewon always liked to hear it back.Â
Words of affirmation was her love language. He liked to have fun with her and withhold it sometimes though.Â
Jungkook learnt very early on that Hyewon needed to hear him tell her he loved her.Â
By no means was she insecure, but she needed this little thing from him.
At this point in their relationship, it had simply become routine to utter those three magic words. Especially after sex.Â
And Jungkook never remembered struggling with that unspoken rule. He was always happy to follow it.Â
Until today, that is.Â
Although he was able to disguise it as just teasing, the words physically wouldnât leave his lips.Â
Jungkook tugged a few paper towels out of the dispenser and wet it.Â
âStay there,â he directed Hyewon to hold her pose as he squatted to clean her up.Â
Pushing her dress back up, he wipes off her slick.Â
Hyewon winced at the sensation.Â
Jungkook paused, âSensitive?â
âCold.â She shook her head, âBut itâs fine, I need to use the restroom anyway.â Â
He nodded understandingly, continuing to clean her up.Â
When heâs done, Hyewon straightens up and limps to the little washroom attached to the powder room. âBabe, you should leave first, I donât want people suspecting anything.âÂ
âYou sure?â Jungkook asks as he lathers his hands with sandalwood hand soap.
âYeah, go on. Iâll have to retouch my makeup. Itâll be a while.â Hyewon assures him.
âAlright. Iâve gotta give Joon his tie back anyway.âÂ
Petrified, Hyewon calls out to him, âBabe!â - âWhat?â Jungkookâs confused.Â
âYou canât return that now! We used it.â Her voice lowers on âused.â
Jungkook furrows his brows, âItâs part of his four piece set. He needs to send it to the dry cleanerâs together, Won. Itâs no biggie.âÂ
âBu-â - Jungkook doesnât wait for her, âIâm gonna go find Joon now. Donât take too long!â
Before exiting the room, he stops by the same velvet wall you had clutched.Â
You had looked like you were about to burst into tears.Â
Had he been too insensitive? Or could you only dish it out but not take it?
In all honesty, Jungkook thought you deserved it. I mean, for fuckâs sake, heâs walked in on you and Namjoon before. And that too in his place of work! And not to mention all the bullshit you pulled earlier just today.Â
Shamelessly flirting with him, but then kissing and flirting with Namjoon.Â
Not to mention Min Yoongi. Jungkook found it odd for Yoongi and you to get along so soon.Â
And for you to call Yoongi âMr. Min?âÂ
That did it for him. He understood you were this way with everyone. âMr. Jeonâ wasnât a little secret nickname for just him.Â
Jungkook wasnât fucking special. He deluded himself into thinking he meant more to you. It pissed him off. He had to get away from you immediately.Â
And if that wasnât enough, you and Yoongi were getting along really well - dancing, clinging on to each other, becoming drinking buddies - it was weird. Neither of you seemed like each otherâs types. Nor were either of you that friendly with just anyone. Hyewonâs living proof of it. His girlfriend seemed to want to get closer to you so bad but you were always dismissive of her.
How could he ever think of entertaining you?
So, just like that, he grabbed his girlfriend and fucked off to an empty corner of the hall.Â
And the outcome was⌠you witnessing it. Jungkook wouldâve counted it as a win for him had you not looked at him the way you did.
Namjoon had no idea what had gone down in the ten minutes when you walked off to some obscure corner of the hall and returned with tears streaming down your face. You were bawling uncontrollably.Â
He couldn't get a word in when you only continuously chant âI don't like it.âÂ
The man felt utterly guilty for leaving you to fend for yourself half of the night. You were his date after all.Â
Witnessing you break down like that, his mind went to the worst places.Â
When heâs unable to calm you down with words, he pulls you in a comforting hug, smushing your teary face against his chest. âYouâre okay, doll. Youâre fineâŚâ Namjoon whispered repeatedly in your ear, rapidly rubbing your back.Â
The scene was drawing a lot of attention. No doubt, this would be the second most talked about event at the Eirene this year. Thankfully only half of the crowd stayed so long to have witnessed your crashout.
Seokjin, too, momentarily pulled away from his âhost dutiesâ to check up on you. He brought you orange juice and a few pieces of toast in case you needed sobering up.Â
After a good few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing and hiccups, you finally settle into Namjoonâs embrace. You still struggled to stabilize your breathing, whimpering from time to time.Â
You hate them.
That nasty image was burnt into the back of your eyelids.Â
Every time you shut your eyes, you could picture Jungkook ramming into Hyewon from the back. Him smirking at you. It played in your mind in a loop.
Youâre fish. Jungkook was dangling bait in front of you, but it felt so out of reach.Â
Your drunkenness made it harder for you to control yourself. The only way you could express yourself was through your tears.Â
These tears werenât out of sadness though.Â
It was purely frustration. Well, frustration mixed with silly drunken emotions.Â
Just when Namjoon and Seokjin walked you back to the table, you spotted Jungkook emerging from the corner, stopping only a few steps away.Â
No Hyewon in sight.
This jerk better not try to talk to you. He better not even breathe in your direction.Â
â_____, say ahhh.â Seokjin attempts to force-feed you some bread. You scowl at him, eyes still wet with tears.Â
No doubt, your entire face was ruined and red now. Certainly not in the way you wanted.Â
Jungkook cautiously watched on as Namjoon cleaned your cheeks and nose.Â
His heart raced. You were a pretty crier.
When you caught another glimpse of him, you glared hard.Â
Oh. Kittyâs got claws.
Though he clearly overestimated you, he still thinks youâre overreacting.
There was another thought swimming around the back of his mind. Have you told them what you saw? And at the off chance you had, how the hell was he going to explain this to anyone? How was he going to explain this to Hyewon? He couldnât let this affect her negatively.
Lucky for him, you werenât a gossip, but thatâs not why you chose to keep this to yourself. Youâd absolutely be up to tattle had you not humiliated yourself by sobbing and breaking down so publicly.Â
Obviously, you werenât about to reveal to people that watching your stupid crush fuck his annoying girlfriend terrorized you to the point of tears. You have a reputation to keep up around here; one that you swore you didnât care about.Â
This would be scandalous for everyone involved. Itâd just hurt more people, not that you care about hurting Hyewon or Jungkook. Theyâd have brought it upon themselves.Â
However, you arenât too proud to admit that you were extremely jealous of Hyewon.
Admitting this to yourself (and to Somin later tonight) is a big step. But you refuse to dig any deeper than that.
ËĘâĄÉË
Right around the time you begin to actually lax and reassure Namjoon and Seokjin nothing funny happened to you, Jungkook finally approaches the table. Â
Instead of taking his original seat next to you, he saunters to the opposite side.Â
Pussy.Â
Jungkook would argue he was giving you much needed space. And he didnât need to rub it in your face anymore by presenting Joon with his tie right now.Â
Jungkook discreetly stuffed the silky piece of clothing into his coat pocket as he watched you get coddled by grown men.Â
Instinctively, he wants to join in. Technically, heâs the reason you were in this almost inconsolable state. So, it should be him looking after your every need.Â
In his defence, he really thought youâd handle it like a champ. Not⌠reduce into tears.Â
Now, the guilt begins to set in. The guilt of using his girlfriend to get a reaction out of you. The guilt of making you feel this way. The guilt of making his hyung worry about you. It weighed on him, making him doubt all the choices he made in the last twenty minutes.
Should he check on you? Jungkook thinks giving you space would be better for you. And easier for him.Â
Just when he was about to leave the table to get a bottle of water, his girlfriend joins him. Hyewon rests her palm on his shoulder. She keeps her eyes on you, who looked like you were recovering from something, and sends Jungkook a questioning look, mouthing âWhat happened?â to which Jungkook just shook his head.Â
Ever so curious, she couldnât stop herself. â_____, are you okay?âÂ
Hyewonâs stupid voice floods your ears, instantly taking you back to ten minutes ago when she was a moaning mess under Jungkook.Â
Why was this woman out to get you?
You refuse to acknowledge her and pretend not to hear. Even though she was loud enough that everyone at the table heard her.
â___-âÂ
âOh, my goodness, take a hint!â You snap at Hyewon.Â
The group just kind of⌠stills. Jungkook looked taken aback.
âOh,â she says weakly, blinking as though sheâs been slapped, looking around at the other patrons to see if anyone saw her get yelled at. She tries to defend herself, âNo, I just wanted to make sure youâre-â - âCan you just not?â You cut her off, having had enough of her âconcern.â âYouâve done enoughâŚâ You whisper the last part, not loud enough for everyone to hear but Hyewon catches on to it anyway. So does everyone else.Â
Hyewonâs lips part, ready to ask what that meant, but Jungkook gently catches her wrist on top of the table, whispering something that sounded like âlet it go.â
Yeah, bitch, listen to your fucking boyfriend. You grind your teeth together at the display. Theyâve got to stop rubbing this in your face. You could probably get that clown kicked off of the face of the Earth if you wanted.
She glances at him, searching his face for answers, then back at you. Finally sighing, she brushes you off, âOkay, Iâm sorry.âÂ
You roll your eyes at the apology. She just has to be the goodie-goodie. Hyewon just has to shove it in everyone's faces that sheâs the innocent little fawn whoâs getting bullied by the big fat tigress.Â
You glare in her direction one last time.Â
You notice Jungkook looking unhappy. Thereâs a tiny little wrinkle forming on his forehead and he looks like heâs biting at his lip ring.Â
Jeon Jungkook was actually pissed off? At you?Â
You find that really funny. Both literally and⌠not literally? Because it genuinely makes you laugh ha-ha that heâs angry at you but also, you arenât ha-ha laughing because you think he has no right to be mad (and at you of all people.)Â
Still, you wanted to fuck the shit out of him. You are actively fighting thoughts of throwing Hyewon off her chair and mounting her boyfriend. Pushing his face in your ample bosom as you dry hump him in front of the entire hall. Maybe heâd be as rough as he was with his stupid girlfriend⌠Now that broke your lustful daydreaming.
After an awkward five minutes, Hyewon, throwing on an obviously fake smile, announces to everyone that she and Jungkook were about to call it a night.
Seokjin smiles at Hyewon, attempting to make up for your⌠unpleasant attitude. âWeâre glad you came, Hyewon-ssi.â
She nods, returning the pleasantries. Then she turns to Namjoon, reaching an arm out, âGood night, Joonie. Congratulations again.â
Namjoon rises halfway from his seat to hug her back, âThank you, Hyewon. Get some rest, yeah?â
She smiles and nods before facing you. Her smile falters just a little when she sees that youâre still scrolling through your phone. Namjoon nudges you but you refuse to cooperate.
âRight,â she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, âWeâre gonna say bye to the others.â She directs it at Jungkook.Â
âSure. Iâll be right behind you,â he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.Â
âIâll escort you,â Seokjin offers kindly, making Hyewon swoon. She was a little starstruck despite whatever just went down with you.
As Hyewon glides away with your step father, Jungkook waits until theyâre out of earshot before fishing something from the pocket of his suit jacket. He twirls it loosely around his finger before dropping it on the table in front of you and Namjoon.
âThought Iâd return this now before I forget.â He says smoothly.Â
Discreetly, you eye the black object.Â
Namjoon frowns, picking it up. âMy tie?âÂ
What the fuck.Â
Your neck snaps towards him before you can stop yourself.Â
Jungkookâs grin tilts into an infuriatingly smug one. âYeah. We used the hell out of it. Thanks.â
âUgh. DudeâŚâ Namjoon recoils, instantly flopping the tie back on the table. Jungkook laughs, unbothered.Â
Namjoon then looks up at his friend to whine a little but he notices that his gaze was trained on you. Waiting.Â
Namjoon then looks at you. You are now staring straight ahead, completely ignoring his friend. Internally, you were seething.
You donât give Jungkook the satisfaction of a reaction. Not even a little stink eye or an eye-roll.Â
You mask all of your seventy emotions with an expression of indifference. This was all Jeon Jungkook would be getting from you from now onwards.Â
He pushes himself up from the table with an exaggerated grunt. âI better go find my girl.â
You dig your shoe into the floor, imagining his foot under it.Â
Jungkook lingers at your side for a bit, now tilting his head to gauge your reaction closely.Â
When he gets nada, he backs off slowly. âBye, hyungie.â Jungkook smiles at Namjoon victoriously. âBe good.â Namjoon spits.
Every bit of guilt and regret Jungkook felt for what he did disappeared into thin air when you lashed out at his girlfriend.Â
Jeon Jungkook couldn't believe your candour just now. But it put a lot of things into perspective for him: the power he held over you, your feelings toward his girlfriend, and finally, he now knew exactly what you wanted. And he knew what buttons to push. And he finally knows your limits. His intuition had always been right. You definitely could handle this; you just didnât want to.Â
A curt â_____,â is the last thing you hear from him before Jungkook goes on to find his stupid girlfriend again.Â
Namjoon carefully watches the two of you.Â
Huh.Â
Slowly, he begins to scratch the surface of what potentially may have gotten you in this mood. Definitely something to do with Hyewon and Jungkook. But what happened?
Sadly for him, you werenât ever going to talk about it. You never got the whole âtalking about your feelingsâ crap. However, you did rant to Somin on the regular to get shit out of your system.Â
If only you could talk Jungkook out of your system tooâŚ
Hyewon sits stiff in the passenger seat of her boyfriendâs Bentley, arms crossed, eyes lazily following blurred car lights driving past them. She seems deep in thought.Â
Jungkook can sense a little something brewing in her mind. Akin to a few days ago, when you were in a similar position.Â
Itâs an awkward parallel.Â
âOkay,â Jungkook says finally, glancing at her before turning back to the road. âWhatâs on your mind?â
She scoffs under her breath. âWhatâs going on with meâŚâ She repeated before groaning into her palms, âUgh. I donât know.âÂ
But he knew.
Jungkook hums lowly in response. âYouâve been sighing the entire ride.â
She exhales sharply, then lets it out. âItâs _____.â
Jungkookâs grip tightens on the steering wheel. Even though he expected it, he feels his heart racing,
âSheâsâ God, sheâs such a bitch sometimes,â Hyewon spits out. âI mean, Iâm sorry but does she even realize how fucking unwelcoming she is?âÂ
Jungkook stays quiet, allowing his girlfriend to throw everything out there. Hyewon was breaking.Â
âShe got lucky. Thatâs all that girl ever did. Born in the right place, around the right people. Sheâs goddamn lazy- no, she has the privilege to be lazy. And she is! She doesnât have to try. And she gets away with treating people like shit because no one ever calls her out on it.â Hyewonâs voice cracks a little. âIf I treated anyone the way she acted towards me? Iâd have no friends left.â
Jungkook doesnât know what to say to that. He had noticed this too. Although, you didnât seem like a total bitch, just a tad bratty. Maybe a little too blunt. But he had no clue his girlfriend had such intense feelings about that aspect of your personality. Or she just never let it show.Â
âIâve been trying so hard with her,â she says bitterly. âTrying to be her friend. To make her feel included. But itâs just fruitless. We were so good all night and just now? All I asked was if she was okay. Why the fuck did she lash out on me?â She shakes her head. âItâs like, I never know which _____ Iâm gonna get, Iâm just⌠Iâm done.â Hyewon whispered the last two words.Â
Well fuck. Jungkook was half-responsible for that. He ignited that fire.Â
He reaches over, brushing his hand on her clothed knee lightly, âYou donât need her, Won.â
Hyewon covers his hand with hers, grasping it tightly.Â
He sighs, âI thought you guys were friends though.â Or friendly, at least.
She lets out a hollow laugh, âNoâŚâ Then she recalls, âIn fact, she only really started acknowledging me after she saw me with you. Before that, I didnât exist to her.â
That comes as a shock to him. He fully expected her to have feelings about your behaviour earlier that night but not the rest of it. Jungkook glances at his girlfriend and back at the road ahead, but his mind flashes back to that night - the first time he was introduced to you and Logan properly.
Heâd clocked it instantly. You were rough around the edges, kinda distant. Disrespectful. He hadnât truly cared. If anything, it intrigued him. Sure, he ranted about you, but secretly, heâs been curious about you ever since.Â
Up to this very moment, heâs still curious about you. Even after the shit you just pulled, he wants to dig deep into you. Every possible implication of that sentence was applicable.
Suddenly, your (overall) behaviour with him and his girlfriend made sense to him. You werenât friends. Hyewon was as good as some random woman to you.Â
âSheâs never liked me,â Hyewon says, more quietly now. âAnd honestly, I donât even know why I keep fucking trying with her.â
âThen donât,â Jungkook offers bluntly. âYou donât have to go out of your way to appease her. Why try to befriend her at all?âÂ
She whips her head toward him, eyes narrowing, âSo itâs my fault sheâs a cunt to me?â
âWhat? No!â Jungkook stumbles over the words, heat creeping up his neck. âI didnât-â - He clears his throat, âThatâs not what I meant. Iâm just saying you donât owe her any kindness she hasnât shown you.â
He doesnât blame her. After all, he too gets your appeal.
Hyewon quiets down for a moment. She turns her gaze back to the road.Â
Then she says, sounding defeated, âShe likes you, though.âÂ
Jungkook nearly swerves into the divider, âHm?â Yet heâs glad he decided to drive instead of being chauffeured. He doesnât think he could look his girlfriend in the eye and have this discussion about you.
â_____ likes you.â She repeated, as if she was jealous of Jungkook.Â
Maybe she was, a little.Â
Hyewon looks at him incredulously. âBabe. _____ clearly likes you. She wants to hang out with you and Joon. She engages with you. She doesnât give a shit about me, whom she met first, but with you and Namjoon? Even Yoongi and Seowoo! Seowoo?â Hyewon gestures loosely, âTotally different person.â
His heart is, once again, pounding too loud in his chest. âIs that⌠bad?â He asked, referring to her first claim.
She thinks for a second before sighing.
âNoâŚâ Hyewon admits. Then letting out a short, bitter laugh, she admits, âI thought I could take advantage of it. You know--- worm my way into her little world through you. But she clearly doesnât⌠want that.â
Jungkook feels the guilt like a punch in the neck. Once again, he thinks about how he had noticed your attitude towards Hyewon. He even brought it up with her. But, he never addressed it with you like he shouldâve.Â
Instead, he flirted with you, touched you, dreamt of you, fantasized about you, crossed every fucking line with you except for actually, officially, crossing the line with you. Even now, your pretty, teary, flushed face is permanently embedded in the back of his mind.Â
Jungkook doesnât have a plan but he asks anyway. âDo you want me to talk to her?â Itâs instinctual to want to help Hyewon.Â
Hyewonâs reply comes just as fast, âNo! God, can you imagine that? I donât need daddy to fight my battles for me.âÂ
He glances sideways at her, an eyebrow lifting.
She finally cracks a small smile, âShut up. Youâre fifteen.â Jungkook throws a hand up in defence and maybe slight confusion. They werenât that kind of couple. âI said nothing.â Jungkook feels a little victorious to have been able to slightly lighten the mood.
âBut now that I think about it,â Hyewonâs smile fades just as quickly, âI⌠kinda donât want you talking to her at all.â
âWhat?â
âI know, I know,â Hyewon rushes. âIâm not trying to be that girl. Itâs not like I donât want you to have female friends. You know Iâm not like that. Itâs justâŚâ
âI know,â Jungkook nods along.
Hyewon groans and exhales, clearly frustrated, âItâs just her. _____. Sheâs been so fucking weird with me, I just⌠I donât want her to have the satisfaction of being close to you.â At latest not before she herself has that pleasure.
Jungkook blinks, surprised.
âMan, I feel like Iâm in high school again.â Hyewon lets out another helpless laugh, âI only had one friend whoâd defend me from those rich, mean girls. Iâm just so tired of feeling like I donât belong.â She shakes her head, âUgh, babe, donât listen to me. Iâm just tired and emotional nowâŚâ
Jungkook watched on sympathetically, âWonâŚâ He was familiar with Hyewonâs past experiences with those classmates. As much as he understood it, he couldnât relate to it entirely. He never had it quite as bad as Hyewon. Male privilege and what not.
Stupidly, Jungkook indulges her insecurities, playing the supportive boyfriend role well. âItâs okay, Won. It-â He sighs, practically forcing the next few words out. âItâs not as if Iâm that close with _____. Joon is. It might get awkward. But, if this is what you need from me, then so be it.âÂ
Heâs just shooting himself in the foot at this point.Â
âGaah, I donât know! Youâre sweet, baby.â Hyewon runs her hand through his hair. âGod. Why does some random woman have such a strong hold on me?âÂ
Jungkook doesnât say it but it echoes in his head: you and me, both.
Just in time, he turns into his street.Â
Desperate to move on to another topic, Hyewon forces a weird smile, âRemember when Jiah tried to hit on you all night? And then you blatantly ignored her the entire time and then made out with me in front of her?âÂ
That was oddly specific. How could he not remember?Â
âI rememberâŚâ Jungkook blinked, a little confused. They were now parked in Jungkookâs garage.
She reaches over him to push his seat back. âIâm just reminiscing.â Hyewon smiles at her boyfriend before leaning in to kiss him.Â
Jungkook canât help but wonder if she wanted him to read between the lines.
It takes you almost a week to (partially) recover from that night. It wasnât really about what you saw, it was what you did after you saw it.
Namjoon dropped you home and offered to stay. You refused because you werenât in the mood for anything funny.
The first thing you did after getting home was dumping those flowers in your fireplace. You only felt a tiny bit bad for it. Those flowers did nothing to you, but you hated who they came from and what it now signified. You didnât want to keep apology flowers from fucking Kang Hyewon.
Not a day had gone by when you didnât excessively obsess over every reactive thing you did that you could remember from the night.
The only thing you did not regret is putting Hyewon in her place for overstepping your boundaries. You arenât sure whether or not it got through to her, but youâre not afraid of reminding her of it if you had to.Â
But, when it comes to Jeon JungkookâŚÂ
You fought the urge to look at news articles about him and needless to say, any photos or clips from the gala too. Even your own. Youâve been sent countless of them by all your friends (and Seokjin) but you donât even want to acknowledge you were ever there.Â
Speaking of Seokjin; he had really surprised you. He didnât go running to mommy and tattle on you (so you assume since your mother never sent you paragraphs about your familyâs legacy and image.) Vague accounts of your outburst made its way to some snark subreddits but apart from that--- nothing major. You suspect either Logan or Seokjin to have meddled. Either way, youâre grateful.Â
After all that effort of nothing ever making it to the big news channels or any remotely reputable online magazines, word of your little temper tantrum still got out in the building (through word of mouth, i.e gossip) but that was expected.
You have no way of confirming but it was most probably one of Hyewonâs little friends. You just had to continue to keep a low profile, as you do normally.
Your brother had graciously moved some things around and allowed you to work from home for a few (3) days after you sobbed to him about the incident.Â
Those three days flew by faster than you were ready. Thursday morning comes for your throat. You wanted to skip some more but Logan demanded that you make an appearance at work. It was about time you returned.Â
The night before, you had the most vivid dream where you and Hyewon reversed roles. But it wasnât the kind of dream youâre thinking about. You were literally in her shoes, going to a new office, doing lawyer stuff you didnât understand. And you tanked.Â
This is the mindset you woke up in. Simply filled with dread.
You hope everyone goes easy on you.Â
Sua had checked on you which was sweet. You ranted to her about the gala in a conference call with Somin and Soobin, just not about what you saw though. That info was reserved for Somin only.Â
Along with Sua, Namjoon and Yoongi had also called to check in.Â
Yoongi just gave you shit for acting like the typical Scarlet Hills socialite he thought you were. He really was a meanie panini.Â
Namjoon⌠got the complete inside scoop from Jungkook before he ever tried with you, so you could not not talk to him. While your first instinct was to ignore Namjoon, Yoongi gave you more shit for that, so, yeah.Â
It's so fun to be friends with men! Really!Â
No, but actually, Yoongi sorta turned out to be the yin to your yang. He didnât always give in to you (like Jungkook had done so many times in the past.) For example, he proposed a friendly date. While you agreed, the only place you were willing to meet Yoongi at was this vegan Indian restaurant an hour away from town. Yoongi opposed it a lot. And somehow, he tricked you into joining him at some stupid country club under the guise of âpicking up his golf bag.â And he made you drive!Â
That was when you realised; you and Yoongi would not work romantically.
You needed a sucker like Mr. Jeon to cater to your every need.Â
Not that that was your goal or anything. You still only want to fuck him and dump him. Thatâs all.
But that didnât mean you didnât have a little fun with the cat-faced man. :p
If anyoneâs curious or whatever, youâve discovered that Yoongiâs really good with his tongue. He almost made you cum from only sucking your tits. Almost. And you havenât gone beyond that.Â
At this point, you fully believe youâre cursed by the sex gods.Â
To solve this little mishap, you came to the most obvious conclusion. Since two negatives make a positive, you proposed a threesome with Namjoon and Yoongi. One that they both rejected.Â
They really needed to be inside your head to understand your logic.
Itâd been MONTHS since a man made you orgasm. Doing it yourself just doesnât feel the same. Believe it or not, you love the concept of giving up control during sex just for the thrills. You just canât do that alone.
All this sex talk right before work was really killing your mood.
ËĘâĄÉË
When you finally returned to the office, you were surprised by how⌠normal it all was. Nobody stared or whispered about you. The world hadnât ended because youâd snapped at a little bitch at a gala. It was business as usual. You went on coffee runs for the office, updated everyoneâs calendars, made survey forms for your coworkers as per Loganâs orders, etcetera etcetera.Â
If at all anyone was gossiping about you, they were at least decent enough to wait until you left the room. But according to Sua, nobody actually gave a shit anymore. Especially not the people in your office. They had come to know you and were already sort of endeared by you at this point, which was good to hear and a much needed ego-boost. Itâd be a blatant lie to say you werenât a little worried about all of this.Â
It wasnât until lunchtime that you actually felt the slightest bit panicked.Â
You had to go down to J, K & K to see Joon. Well, you didnât have to do anything but the more you put this off, the worse your anxiety would get. Also, he invited you. He had something to ask you or whatever. So, you just had to suck it up and take your ass over there.Â
This anxiety stemmed from not having been around Jungkook in a while. He must know you were deliberately trying to keep away from him, along with rumours. Dare you say, you were a tiny bit embarrassed of the fact.Â
Well, enough of that.Â
You adjusted the straps of your heels and headed down to Namjoonâs office. You told yourself you werenât about to look for him.Â
And then the elevator doors opened. Directly to the one person you were hoping not to run into.Â
His hair looked slightly out of place, like he had just run his hands through it. But thatâs not the thing youâre focused on. There was something on his body you hadn;t ever imagined to see. It isnât, like, something absolutely bonkers. Itâs so normal. But not on Jeon Jungkook.Â
Glasses⌠Spectacles. On him. Face.Â
Without wasting any more precious seconds, you flip your hair back and glide past him into the office, leaving behind a trail of your sweet scent.Â
Jungkook was dumbfounded. So much so that the elevator he had been waiting for left without him in it.
Maybe he wouldâve done something about the way you just⌠dismissed him had he not made important shopping plans with his other gir- his girlfriend.Â
You had only caught a glimpse of the man, yet you had every. single. detail. stuck in your head: his magenta tie, the grey coat hanging off his arm, his lip and brow piercings, the glasses⌠Oh, the glasses! You didnât know he needed them. You didnât know you needed that. They made him look maddeningly mature. Normally, that would turn you off but he just looked even hotter.Â
Very briefly, you pictured yourself stealing them, wearing them yourself as you rode his cock in his office chair. You let out a shaky sigh.Â
You were not built for crushing on unavailable men.
Then Namjoonâs voice broke your train of thought, âThere you are, I was about to come looking for you.â
You tightly smile at him and slip into his office, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.
ËĘâĄÉË
Long story short, youâre going to a little retreat on a private island, courtesy of Namjoonâs father.
Initially, you werenât part of the plan. It was supposed to be just the winners of the Eirene, Seowoo and Hyewon by extension. But Yoongiâs assistant had to back out at the last minute because⌠well, you hadnât paid attention to the reason. But the point was that they had room.
So, of course, Namjoon invited you. Since youâd been cooped up in your apartment all week, working from home and, unintentionally or not, avoiding people since the gala incident, he figured a few days away from the city might do you some good. Maybe give you and Jungkook a fresh start.
When he mentioned the idea to Jungkook, though, it didnât exactly go smoothly. Jungkookâs reaction was⌠less than enthusiastic?
âWhy though?â Heâd complained immediately, brow raised. âWhatâs the point of bringing her?â
Namjoon had rolled his eyes, âSheâs my friend. And she could really use a break.â
âDo you like her?â Jungkook had pressed, half-serious. âBecause if youâre interested in dating her, maybe take her somewhere else. On your own time.â
Hyewon had been the one to intervene, hugging Jungkookâs arm to calm him. âKook, relax. It might actually be good for everyone. You, me, her. Maybe itâll help⌠smooth things over.âÂ
Translation: This is yet another opportunity for her to get to know you. Fuck whatever she felt or said about you.
With that, the decision was made. Namjoon promised you that you wouldnât have to spend more than a dinner or two around the lovebirds anyway. You tried to wriggle out of it, claiming that Logan would never approve of you skipping out on work again, but Namjoon had a solution ready.
âWeâre all working, _____. Weâll leave after office hours,â Heâd said matter-of-factly.
You hummed, already picturing the gorgeous tan lines youâd wear after said retreat. You werenât entirely convinced, but the idea of a natural tan, and maybe collecting seashells for your next art project, sounded good enough to sway you. Itâd be more meaningful if you found them yourself instead of ordering them off Amazon or an overpriced Etsy shop.
Of course, the fact that Jungkook would be there wasâŚ. not the reason, obviously. But a nice little bonus. Emphasis on âlittle.â
The next day, Namjoon came by your office just as you were wrapping things up for the day. He waited, leaning against the doorframe, refusing to come in and help you finish because he knew that would take way longer.
âReady to go?âÂ
You nodded once.
After saying goodbye to Logan - who gave you a pointed look that said be good - you followed Namjoon down to the parking lot. You made him carry all of your luggage; two silver, hard shelled suitcases, one smaller than the other. One contained all your toiletries and shoes, and the other packed your clothes and makeup.Â
Your steps slowed when you spotted them. Hyewon was standing near the back of the vehicle, chatting softly with someone you didn't recognise, while Jungkook was already seated inside.Â
âPlease tell me weâre not driving togetherâŚâ You muttered to Namjoon under your breath.Â
He only hushed you. âItâs Kookâs car. And itâll only be a forty-minute ride. Youâll survive.â
Forty minutes? You had no idea what kind of island existed forty minutes away, but okay.
You greeted Hyewon with a strained smile, which she returned sweetly.Â
âNeed help with that?â Hyeown pointed at the little bags by your feet. You dumbly nod.
Whatever, sheâs a better woman than you, bla bla.Â
She smiled at you once again before helping you load the suitcases in the trunk. âHelpingâ was generous. She basically did it for you while you watched.Â
The car, you noticed, was a cherry red Jeep. Not exactly the vehicle youâd ever imagined Jungkook in. He struck you more as a sleek black coupe type of dude. Cherry red was more your thing though.
Youâd have liked to take the front seat, but you assumed Hyewon had dibs on it. So, you climbed into the back, only to have Hyewon follow you in.Â
Great!
Whatever. You pressed yourself against the window, silent, determined not to look at Jungkook or acknowledge him at all.
Thatâs how you spent the first thirty minutes of the ride. You had to listen to Hyewon yap about something or the other. About her mom, Jungkookâs mom, their family trip together, just relationship stuff. She kept trying to ask you about your mom and Seokjin too. You assume it was in hopes of getting more intel on your family situation. But you couldnât be bothered to give her more than a âI havenât seen them all week.âÂ
You were told Yoongi was already waiting at the resort. You text him asking him to claim a good room for you but he wasnât a good sport. He insisted all the rooms were âgood.â Boring.
Another thirty minutes passed and traffic had brought the car to a crawl.
Forty minutes, my ass.
Both Namjoon and Hyewon had dozed off, leaving you in near-silence with only the sound of Hyewonâs boring Spotify playlist blaring through the speakers lowly. It only consisted of Taylor Swiftâs last two albums. Or so you assume. They all sounded the fucking same to you. Like, are we kidding? Youâd rather eat Hyewonâs shoe. Youâre kicking yourself for not charging your devices well.Â
You were dangerously close to passing out yourself but resisted. You could sleep once you got to the place; on a comfy bed after a nice hot shower.
You shifted in your seat, adjusting your neck, trying to find a comfortable angle.
Jungkookâs eyes flicked toward you in the rearview mirror once, twice, then again.
Finally, without saying a word, he reached over and held something out toward you.
A forest green neck pillow.
You stared at it, blinking. He sighed. âJust take it. All that moving around is distracting.â
You glared at him, curling your lips into a childish pout. He rolled his eyes and pushed the pillow further back at you until you reluctantly accepted it.Â
The moment your fingers sank into the plush memory foam, your resolve cracked a little. Memory foam. Your favourite.
You looped it around your neck, muttering a quiet thanks he probably didnât hear. You barely even heard it.Â
The pillow even smelt like him. It was oud-y and musky. It made you squeeze your thighs together.Â
Fuck me. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be hot?
You glanced at him once. He didnât have his hot glasses anymore. HmâŚ
The memory of a specs-clad Jungkook would suffice for now, you think.
You sank back against the seat, staring out the window. Luckily, Jungkook switched Hyewonâs playlist to something he thought youâd enjoy: J-Hopeâs latest singles.Â
And heâs right again.
ËĘâĄÉË
When the car finally rolled to a stop, you blinked away the haze of near-sleep and looked out the window - only to frown. You were at an ominous location. You could smell that ocean air, but you couldn't figure out where you were.
You straightened up a little, âWhere are we?â You were already wary.
Namjoon only smiled, that kind of weird âtrust meâ smile that only made you not trust him. âYouâll see.â
You reluctantly followed the group out, heels clicking softly against the ground until the realization hit you.Â
It was a helipad.
You stopped dead in your tracks. âNamjoon, no.â
Namjoon grinned, glancing back, â_____, yes.â He continued on to the ground staff.
Ugh, this idiot thinks youâre thrilled. âNo, Namjoon. You didnât say anything about a helicopter.â You end with an unexpected whine.Â
Meanwhile, Hyewon was clutching Jungkookâs arm dramatically, squealing something about being scared too. âYouâll hold my hand, right?â
Jungkook smiled, tucking her closer. âIâll hold it the whole way.â
Eugh.Â
Yeah, no. Youâre going home.Â
âJoonâŚâ You begin to build up your case but he doesnât let you finish.Â
âDoll, itâs a very short ride.â He reassures. Hyewon jumps in too, âYeah, _____, itâll be fine! If we go down, we all go down together.â She giggled.Â
?!
What is there to laugh about falling seven thousand feet to your death? Does she think sheâs being funny?Â
You make a strange face at her and her boyfriend who was leading her to the pick-up spot.
Just the idea of flying in a tin can with blades is⌠Youâd like to live, please, thank you.
Namjoon turned 180 degrees to drag you along to the front with him. He literally had to drag your weight because youâd forced yourself to go limp in his grasp.
Finally, he decides to throw you over his shoulders. âCome on, drama queen.â
You watch Jungkookâs car get smaller and smaller. You give up.Â
 âHi, Iâm Ivy. Iâll be flying you today.â
A female pilot.
For some reason, that helped settle your tummy. Namjoon clumsily placed you back on your feet. You stumble a little but Jungkook holds you up. You dramatically dust yourself off where he touched you.Â
He scoffed. Brat.
Ivy smiled warmly at you specifically, âItâll only be twenty minutes, I promise. The weatherâs perfect. Itâs so comfortable up there even you could easily take a cat nap.â
You believe her. You nodded slowly. Okay. Maybe you werenât gonna die.
You unclenched your fist.Â
Some of the ground staff was loading your bags into a compartment on the side of the helicopter. Everyone was traveling light so it was all well under the weight limit.Â
Ivy lets you choose your seat first. You chose the middle one so you wouldnât have to stare at the world below you.Â
Even though Hyewon was whining about being afraid, she picks a window seat, so does Namjoon.Â
That left Jungkook only one choice: pressed to your side for twenty whole minutes, plus the few minutes it takes for the safety instructions to be explained and getting buckled in.Â
You were all given headsets to communicate better. You skipped out on it because itâd have messed up your hair. You swear you heard Jungkook scoff at you again.Â
Take-off was the most daunting part. When you heard the blades whirling faster, you instinctively reached out to grab Namjoonâs arm. He hissed under his breath.Â
A few minutes in, you still held a strong grip on his arm.
He just laughed softly, prying your fingers off. âJesus, youâre cutting off my circulation.âÂ
You couldnât hear shit because you chose to forego the headphones. You frown at him and cross your arms like a petulant child. It wasnât comfortable to keep knocking your elbows into the two gigantic boulders sitting on either of your sides. If this was anywhere else, youâd have been very satisfied. But four thousand feet off the ground? Over an ocean? Nuh uh.Â
You then press your palms to your exposed knees, holding onto them instead.Â
Jungkookâs watching you through the periphery. He knows youâre genuinely scared.Â
He gazes at Hyewon whose eyes were glued to the window. She occasionally smacked his boyfriendâs thigh to show him whatever she was marveling at: migratory birds flying alongside them, a random skyscraper, a horse? Everything.
It contrasted you who were staring down at your lap. Your hair fell over your face, barring your vision from accidentally catching glimpses of the environment around you. Your knuckles were turning white around your knees.
With a deep sigh, Jungkook placed his large, tattooed hand over both of yours. It scares the shit out of you. Only for a second though.Â
You peek at him through your hair. Heâs looking at you. With his free hand, he places the headphones over your ears and you let him.Â
In your defence, you were⌠processing.
You learn that the headphones did more than just allow everyone to speak to each other. They were also noise cancelling. And you donât want to admit it but you felt a lot better this way.Â
You blush a deep shade of red as you feel his heavy hand rub yours. You felt his fingers brush against your bare knees, making you squeeze your thighs together involuntarily.
âŚ
You never wanted the ride to end.
By all means, screw that fucker, but Jungkook comforting you through a scary helicopter ride even after youâve been rather unkind to him is⌠admirable.
Internally, you groan, wishing you had packed your new thrusting, rabbit vibrator.
The landing was smooth enough to make you feel stupid for ever doubting Ivyâs flying skills but that wasnât enough to make you like these kill machines.
Wobbly legged, you stumbled out after Jungkook. This time, he doesnât catch you. Just like that, your brief admiration for him ended right there.
Jerk.
You vowed youâd never let Namjoon trick you into bullshit like this ever again.
By the helipad, two golf carts waited to take you to the resort. You climbed into one with Namjoon, Hyewon, and Jungkook while your suitcases were loaded onto the other.
The ride was breezy and healing - the cool night island air hits your face, the scent of salt and flowers curl in through the open sides; itâd have put anyone in a good mood.
The villa, well, resort, technically- it was stunning.Â
Thank you, Mr. Kim.
It was a Tuscan style villa with creamy stone walls, cobblestone walkways lined with beautiful flower bearing bushes and warm amber lighting that made everything look and feel like it was the early 2000s.Â
Like any typical resort, staff members greeted you at the entrance, handing out chilled towels and colourful welcome drinks. You accepted both, immediately taking a long sip from your orange and pink drink. Yum, yum.Â
As you were being led inside, someone began explaining the amenities; a quick list of spa treatments, private cabanas, infinity pools, yadda yadda, but your brain only half-registered any of it. Until one particular phrase caught your attention.
ââŚand we have a two-Michelin-star pastry chef visiting us for the weekend.â
Ooh, bingo.
You knew exactly what your plans for the night were: a warm bubble bath, maybe a quick nap, and then room service from that dessert menu that you just know is about to be scrumptious, as you watch Gilmore Girls for, like, the eleventh time. You almost moan out loud, thinking about all the tiramisu youâre about to gobble.
As everyone slowly began dispersing toward the suites, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Then a light arm slipped around your waist from the side. âYoongi?â You blinked, startled.
He grinned lazily, doing the same to Namjoon who stood beside you, before moving on to greet Hyewon and Jungkook with a similar warmth. He seems a bit dazed.
âJust came to say hi,â He pointed to your left with his chin, âIn case I donât see you guys later tonightâŚâ
You all follow his gaze which lands on a gorgeous woman in a tiny black dress. She smiles and waves.
Ohhhh. Cute! You giggle and wave back at her.Â
Yoongi was tipsy.Â
âAh, I see why you were in such a hurry,â Namjoon teased. Yoongi just shrugged.Â
Before you could even comment, Hyewon clapped her hands together. âOkay! Since weâre all in a hurry right now,â Nobodyâs in a hurry for anything⌠âYouâre all invited to our suite in exactly two hours. Weâre hosting a casual dinner! Yoongi, you can bring your date!âÂ
Namjoon smiled politely, Jungkook nodded along as she spoke, and even Yoongi gave her a little thumbs up in agreement.
Then, as silence stretched for a second too long, you realized they were all looking at you.
Oh, they wanted an answer this instant.
You blinked. âOh. Iâm actually okay. I think Iâll just sleep.â
Hyewonâs smile faltered for a second, barely noticeable, but you still caught it. As did everyone else.Â
You scrunched your brows in confusion. âOk...â
You could tell she didnât want to believe youâd turned her down for no reason. It was easier for her to assume you were unwell than to accept you just didnât want to go.
Namjoon shot you a vague, âIâm disappointed in youâ look. Jungkookâs was more of a⌠frown? Like you;d kicked his dog or something. Well, you suppose you kinda did.Â
Okay then.
Not wasting a moment longer, you smile. âGood night!â You chirp, and follow one of the concierges down a hallway toward your room. Your luggage follows you.Â
As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, you exhaled, rolling your shoulders back.Â
Why the hell was this your fault again? You toss your handbag on the floor.Â
You donât understand why Hyewon wants to play host when everything is paid for by Namjoonâs dad. You arenât trying to be⌠bitchy? A snob? Whatever the word is, you werenât it. Your confusion is genuine. She âexpectedâ everyone in her and Jungkookâs suite for dinner.Â
Sucks to be her because you have big plans to pig out in your little room tonight.Â
After that hell of a car ride? Having to sit with the couple, forced to listen to their vacation plans for December. Renting a ski chalet with Jungkookâs family. Super original. And who plans trips more than half a year ahead?Â
And then the godforsaken chopper- you donât even want to think about it and accidentally relive it.Â
Youâd rather be able to pick your own dinner rather than force yourself to eat whatever crap Hyewon selected. I mean, she never asked you if you had any allergies or for anyoneâs preferences. You canât eat gluten this week. Or corn, because it sucks.Â
Itâs better than showing up and being rude to the host (because of the hostâs own neglectfulness.)Â
Thereâs zero reason for you to feel bad about it. Itâs not as if all their efforts will go to waste if one person skips. The others were still going to be there to enjoy it and praise her.
Ugh. You groan before peeling your clothes off your body. You slip into the bathrobe provided by the Brando. Mm, soft.Â
You call room service to set up a relaxing, much needed bath for yourself.
While it gets ready for you, you facetime Somin. You reiterate your plans for the night to her. To nobodyâs surprise, she supports your right to stay in rather than show up at Hyewon and Jungkookâs.
You end up staying on call with her (briefly adding Logan later,) all night long while still doing everything else you planned to.
The next morning, Jungkook spots you strutting into the restaurant in Prada SS 2009 heels and an itsy bitsy striped bikini top and skirt with something that looks an awful lot like a Hannah Montana beach towel lazily draped over you.
You only threw the towel on because the restaurant wouldnât let you in without a cover-up. It didnât do much covering anyway which was just the way you liked it.Â
With his eyes glued to you, Jungkook didnât even notice Yoongi in pursuit.Â
Hyewon was still explaining to the waitress how she wanted her guacamole prepared, too occupied to notice whatever was going on there.Â
You and Yoongi were the last ones there.Â
Since Namjoon was off snorkeling with the dolphins or whatever, it was just the four of you.Â
You were preparing to skip out on this breakfast date but Yoongi came barging into your room and threatened you to show up because Namjoon put him on _____ responsibility.
Itâd have been rude to bail a second time. Not that you care. You sincerely could not be bothered about how Hyewon felt. Youâd like to point out once again that she was not the host, and nor was she the person whose invite you accepted. Namjoon was.Â
Anyway, Yoongi ate you out: first, through your panties for five whole minutes before discarding them completely, then he only cleaned you up with his tongue. He hadnât let you finish. Instead, he held your orgasm over your head and made you attend breakfast.Â
What were you gonna do? Say no? You tried but he was very persuasive.
âOh, hello!â Hyewon cheerfully greeted you and Yoongi. Her eyes flitted over to Yoongiâs arm behind your lower back. He was helping you into your chair. âOh, when did this happen?âÂ
You followed her gaze, looking down at yourself, and then blinked up at her. âWhen did what happen?â
âThiiiss,â she said with a teasing little grin, gesturing between you and Yoongi. âI just didnât know you two were close. You were with Namjoon before.âÂ
Yoongi hummed, âWeâve become close over the week.â He thought nothing of it. But you knew what was brewing in her head. Itâs always about relationships with this woman.
Hyewonâs eyes widened slightly at his tone. She looked back at Jungkook who was now fully focused on your conversation too. They hadnât heard Yoongi speak of anyone like that before. And since you're a woman and heâs a man and men can never be friends with women, they were understandably taken aback. Note the sarcasm.
Hyewon laughed delicately, a little in disbelief, âWow, really?â Then she goes on to say, âOh, my god, this reminds me-â She waves her hands around to express her disagreement, â-you know, Iâve always detested that term: homie hopper.â She uses air quotes.
Yoongi and Jungkookâs eyes snap to Hyewon.Â
Hyewon cringes, âItâs such an unnecessary and misogynistic term. Like, people can do whatever they want.âÂ
Then why bring it up in the first place?Â
You almost laugh in her face because of how bad she was at shading people. Though, that didnât stop you from feeling a bit of discomfort because everyone at the table understood what she was hinting at.
As much as youâd like to say you werenât hurt, it stung a tiny bit. Which was crazy because you never cared what most people thought of you, let alone someone like Hyewon, whom you donât even have a real opinion on.Â
Jungkookâs brow raised, still processing the words that just exited his girlfriendâs mouth.Â
On the other hand, Yoongi was quick with his defence. âWhy say it then?â His tone wasnât accusatory or sharp. He feigned confusion.Â
âI wasnât, I mean, I didnât mean it in that way. God, Iâd never.â Hyewon explained smoothly.Â
Yoongi wasnât having it, âWeâre not stupid, Hyewon.â He copied her nonchalant tone.
Before Hyewon could respond, her boyfriend jumps in, âYah, letâs not go there? Itâs nine in the morning.â It was directed towards Yoongi.
Yoongi?Â
Hyewonâs the one who started it. But ok, Yoongi shouldnât go there.Â
Fuck that. You frown at him before picking out a menu to peruse through.
âShe did not mean anything by it.â Jungkook looked at his girlfriend to confirm. âRight?â His hand slipped under the table--- you just knew it was to squeeze Hyewonâs thigh.Â
âOf course not! I was only sharing an opinion!â Hyewon rushed to reassure her boyfriend.
She looks at you with this shocked look, you donât know how to describe it. âI am so sorry it came out that way.â It was as if she suddenly regretted trying to drag you. Or pretended to.Â
When you donât acknowledge her, she reaches out to grab your hand, â_____, Iâm sorry. Letâs just start over?âÂ
If she doesnât let go of you in the next five seconds, she is about to be wearing her breakfast eggs on her head.
âI donât care,â you smile awkwardly, âWeâre fine.âÂ
Maybe Hyewon was still upset that you rejected her for dinner the night before. And maybe this was her way of showing it or lashing out.Â
An awkward silence ensued after. You then placed an order for a breakfast tiramisu and an espresso martini. Not even Yoongi interfered with your unhealthy choices.Â
It wasnât until Jungkook decided to break the ice (mainly addressing Yoongi and Hyewon) that things went back to somewhat normal. You didnât engage too much in any of their conversations.
Jungkook took note of it. Heâd occasionally look your way, and you donât know if it was to get you to join in or simply to admire. You had half a mind to unwrap your purple towel and really give him something to look at, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be mad at him.Â
Little things like this never bothered you before. So many of your past dates have pulled these tricks to get you to feel or act on jealousy. But it never worked. You werenât the type of person who felt possessive over people nor the type to hold grudges.Â
Until Jungkook, maybe?Â
Youâve had hours to contemplate if your feelings were even worth entertaining. It was silly to be mad at Jungkook. He was only teasing. You have half-forgiven him. Thatâs a concept youâd like to introduce: choosing forgiveness until he ruins it for you with any more of his shenanigans.Â
Your heart felt lighter when you came to this conclusion with yourself.Â
Somin thought you needed to slow down on your attempts with Jungkook, refrain from acting out and getting rage-baited by him. And you agreed. Besides, it takes a lot of effort to be mad at someone. But you canât help feeling a tad annoyed by the couple sitting across from you with all their⌠together-ness.Â
Around twenty excruciating minutes later, you and Yoongi excused yourself to go get a dry massage session before you sunbathed.Â
Hyewon invited you to a private couples yoga class she had pre-booked for herself and Jungkook.
While you had time, you did not care for it. Yoga was a regular thing for you, so it wasnât as if youâd learn something new. If anything, youâd be forced to watch Jungkook stretch Hyewon out for a second time. And you didnât like the way she proposed it either: âOh! You donât seem to have anything special planned then? Come join us!â Getting a little massage and sunbathing werenât âplans?â Fuck that.Â
Thankfully, Yoongi politely declined before you could protest. He also paid before Jungkook could.
This restaurant wasnât part of the resort so breakfast wasnât paid for in advance. Jungkook had called for the bill but, like, Yoongi sniped and gave the waitress his card before she could accept Jungkookâs. And you found that pretty hot.
Jungkook thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing and soothing, something you practiced to get your mind off things. Yet, in the silence, he couldnât stop wondering about you and his hyung. He absolutely didnât deem Min Yoongi to be your kind of guy in general, let alone something more. But after seeing him dancing with you the other night and after Hyewonâs inquisitiveness, he doubts his own intuition. It was none of his business but he didnât love the idea of you and Yoongi. Even Namjoon seemed a more likely option.Â
Either way, he didn't plan on driving himself nuts over your (possible) dating life.
The class was held under a white canopy by the villa, facing the sea. The instructor, Ria, spoke in a soft and measure tone, gracefully demonstrating each pose. As expected, Jungkook and Hyewon were the ideal students.Â
Then, when they get more comfortable between poses, Jungkook exhales. âWon, what was that earlier?â
Hyewon looks over, midâwarrior pose. âWhat was what?â
âAt breakfast.â He straightens, fixing his sweats a little. âThe thing you said about _____.â
Hyewonâs face tightens briefly. âIt wasnât about her. I mean-â She sighs, adjusting her stance. âIt came out wrong. I just opened my mouth before I thought. I feel horrible, okay?â
He hopes sheâs being truthful. Jungkook just nods along. âIt didnât sound great.â
âJungkook, I know,â she says, voice a little strained now. âI mean I even apologised to her. Why are you bringing it up now?â
âAlright, alright. Just wanted to clear it up.â Jungkook backs off. Then he adds, âYo- we should probably just⌠leave her alone for now.â
Hyewon doesnât understand what he meant by that but she chooses to stay quiet, ignoring his suggestion.
Thereâs an awkward pause before Ria calls for the next pose - downward dog. Hyewon turns away from her boyfriend, stretching, focusing on the sounds of the wind chimes and the soothing music instead.
But as the session goes on, the atmosphere subtly shifts. Hyewonâs focus wavers. She didnât love the fact that her own boyfriend questioned her motives in your defence. She suddenly hated the fact that you tagged along, contrary to how she had felt when she first found this out.Â
Jungkook doesnât really notice the shift in his girlfriendâs mood, too busy getting the yoga right. He doesnât try to engage her how he had tried with you earlier today. (Yeah, she noticed.) And understandably so, Hyewon hates that even more.
Meanwhile at the spa, you and Yoongi were led into separate adjoining rooms for your dry massages. The rooms smelt like essential oils and smoky sage. It looked like a typical Thai spa, nothing outstanding but it was beautiful regardless. There was a koi pond at the entrance too. You wish you had brought your phone along to show Somin to give her ideas for her indoor pond. Somin had one in her backyard but the birds kept stealing the poor fishies. She would get new ones but the birds kept returning. Soon she realised that she was feeding the birds that way. Ever since, she has been looking for inspo to build a little pond in her living room instead.Â
The massage was as relaxing as you expected. No oils or lotions were used; it was a dry massage because you didnât want to get cooked in the sun later.
Your masseuse wouldnât stop complimenting your soft skin. You assumed she was fishing for tips but she wouldnât accept any when you tried. So, yay. :) It doesnât take too much to make you happy.Â
You hoped to remain uplifted all day today. Or at least until dinner when youâd have to see Hyewon and Jungkook again.Â
After your massage, you find Yoongi waiting for you by the sun deck. He was staring into the endless ocean. The sun made him look almost translucent. He looked too serene to disturb but you were in a rush. âIâm still a bit hazy from the massage, and I wanna keep feeling so I can nap on that beach!!â With that, you run off to the beach.
Yoongi stays on the deck for a few minutes before heading back to the villas from where he grabs your phone, a tube of sunscreen, and two books to pass time with.Â
When he gets to the beach, he sees youâve already set yourself up on a lounge chair, basking in the warm sunlight. Â
An employee had installed an umbrella for Yoongi.Â
âNeed sunscreen?â He asks, already reaching for the tube before you can answer. You squeak in assent, sprawling out on the chair for him. He kneels beside you, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. The lotion feels cool against your warm skin.Â
Yoongi spreads it slowly, over your shoulders, your tummy, the tops of your thighs and your legs. âHow do you walk on sand with those heels? Flip.â - âHm? OhâŚâ You look at your feet before turning over for him, âI dunno, I just do.âÂ
Uh, you werenât about to take your shoes off to lie on a chair - theyâre part of your outfit. And last time you checked, this wasnât a nude beach. I mean, it was a private one so you could probably get away with some nudity but youâve been really into tan lines lately. So, you know. The bikini stays on. Also, you doubt the employees would be pleased if you tried.
Yoongi massages the cream deeply into your skin. He begins to help himself before you could offer to do it for him, so you donât bother.Â
You stay on your stomach, resting your cheek on the back of your palm, with your hair cascading down your back.
You hear the roar of the ocean and the screeching of the seagulls. There werenât too many there though, you could maintain your peace. You sigh dreamily.
A few minutes of silence prompt you to check on Yoongi.Â
He was settled in next to you with a fat book on⌠music therapy?Â
Huh.Â
You turn the other way and close your eyes, breathing in the fresh, salty ocean air. Itâs peaceful. For the first time probably all week, youâre content to just exist. Just you, the warm sun, the cool winds, and the sounds of the water.Â
Perhaps Namjoon was onto something bringing you here.
ËĘâĄÉË
The next time you open your eyes, you see a blond lying on the chair to your left: âOh,â a familiar voice says, âYouâre up!âÂ
You squint a little, and thereâs Namjoon, reclined on the seat. His hair was still damp and slicked back and his sunglasses were perched low on his nose. And heâs already got a beautiful tan on.Â
Still sleepy, you mumble. âHow long have you been sitting there?âÂ
He shrugs, âA little less than an hour.âÂ
You glance to your right. Yoongi was on to a new book now. âOh⌠Shouldâve woken meâŚâ
âI tried.â Namjoon snorted, âSnorkeling was amazing. You shouldâve come.âÂ
âWas it?â You ask, flipping on your back and stretching your arms over your head.
âYeah. There was this one dolphin that kept following me - probably because I dropped my snorkel multiple tines,â he laughs. âEmbarrassing as hell, but so worth it.âÂ
He was way too chill about losing important equipment more than once⌠âGood for you.â You hum, blinking against the light, âAt least one of us is having fun.âÂ
You put your palm out, asking Joon for his sunglasses. He obliges.Â
âYeah, okay. You woke up at the perfect time though.â
âI did?â
âYep.â He sits up, brushing some sand off his shorts. âNext activityâs at one.âÂ
You ogle his thighs for a few seconds. âDefine activityâŚâÂ
Namjoon opens his mouth to answer but then decides against it: âItâs a surprise.âÂ
Dramatically shaking your head, you whine, âNuh uh, no more of those.âÂ
âYouâll have fun, I promise.â Namjoon pulls you off your resting place.Â
You let out a faint âNooooâ before complying with his requests.Â
Namjoon knew youâd take a while to dress up so he sent you off early. Knowing how much the group enjoyed drinking, he had booked a little mixology class. Initially it was supposed to be just the three of you but during dinner last night, it turned into a group activity.Â
And maybe this would help you bond with Hyewon and⌠well, he hopes you wouldnât âbondâ with Jungkook any more than you have currently. For Hyewonâs sake.
All this while, Namjoon had been confident that Jungkook wouldnât pay you any heed and he had been proven wrong.
In his opinion, Hyewon and Jungkook belonged together. Itâs not that he doesnât like you. He loves you. But he doesnât love you for his buddy. He thinks you would stomp on Jungkookâs heart with your sexy little stilettos and crush it.
He could just talk to you and ask you to back away but itâs a bit too late for that anyway.
That being said, he still hopes you and Jungkook are able to build a friendship. If not now, sometime in the future.
It was nearing one in the afternoon by the time you finally emerged from your room - ten minutes later than Namjoonâs text had instructed, but who was counting?Â
Youâd taken your sweet time getting dolled-up, abandoning your bikini for a mini slip dress with black lace detailing along the neckline. It paired beautifully with your diamond necklace (all lab grown because youâre not a monster.)Â
What took long was the hair. You worked your hair into waves and added little braids here and there. Like at the night of the gala.Â
Namjoon had only told you to change into something comfortable for an âactivity.â No further hints. You were hoping it wasnât anything involving hiking, sand, or god forbid, group sports.
The sun was high and hot, you doubt it was any of those options anyway.
You followed the winding stone path down toward the villa deck, where Namjoonâs text had told you to meet him. You spotted Joon first - leaning leisurely against a railing in a linen shirt, sunglasses perched on his head. Yoongi stood beside him, holding a glass of something brown and on the rocks.Â
They were discussing the layout of the place and how inconvenient it must be for employees on this island to travel from work to home.Â
âAbout time,â Yoongi said, glancing at you as you carefully stumble onto the deck in your ladybug kitten heels.
âYou boys are lucky I showed up at all.â You shot back, and his mouth twitched in a half smile.
Namjoon stepped forward, clapping his hands once. âAlright, now that weâre all hereâŚâ He gestured to the open-air setup behind him: a long wooden counter shaded by palm fronds, stacked neatly with shakers, citrus, berries and other edibles, bottles of liquor, and rows of gleaming glasses. ââŚSurprise.â
You froze for half a second before letting out a delighted squeak. âA mixology class?â
Namjoon grinned. âYouâve mentioned wanting to try it before, soâŚâÂ
He listens to you!Â
âOoh, oh, my God,â Youâre practically bouncing in place, âIâm so excited!âÂ
The instructor exited a gorgeous little shed nearby and introduced themselves as Kyle, then began running through the basics. âWeâll start by prepping some ingredients, washing and cutting fruit, muddling herbs, that sort of thing. Then weâll get into building flavor profiles.âÂ
You werenât too keen on the grunt work but if the end result is a drunk _____, youâre doing ittt.
You, Namjoon, and Yoongi each gave your introductions in turn before diving into the setup.
Kyle handed you and Joon some of the citrus fruits and a grater and asked you to zest them into separate bowls.Â
Yoongi, being more experienced with knives, was asked to slice the fruits into thin wedges for the plating.
Everything was going just fine.Â
And then-Â
âOh, you guys started without us?â
You froze mid-smile.Â
Turning, you saw Hyewon approaching, one hand looping through Jungkookâs arm. They both looked freshly showered and far too put-together for a lazy beach afternoon (as did you.)Â
Hyewon was in a coral halter sundress, hair glossy and tied with a silk scarf. Jungkook wore a Hawaiian button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, sunglasses hooked in the center of his shirt and capri shorts.Â
Your heart did something stupid at the sight of him. His hair was a tad tousled. You almost want to reach out and fix it.Â
Namjoon straightened a little. âHey, you guys made it.â
Hyewon smiled, âYeah! We were gonna go snorkeling because you made it sound so good but we figured we could just do that tomorrow.â
We, we, we. Blegh.
You forced a polite little smile, trying not to show the flicker of irritation. Or the heat that rose when Jungkookâs eyes flicked to you before dropping to your bare shoulder where one of your straps had slipped off of, to your hands that daintily grasped the half peeled lime, and then down to your legs.
âAlright!â Kyle smiled brightly at the couple, âYou guys ready to catch up?â
They both nodded. Hyewon offered an apologetic smile while Jungkook looked only mildly interested.
âGreat! Since your friends have already startedâŚâ Kyle gestured at the small array of half-prepped fruits, bottles, and herbs on the long wooden counter, âIâll give you two some tasks.âÂ
He points at Hyewon, âYou can help wash and prep the berries.â Then turning to Jungkook, âYou can take over the herbs. Youâre going to use that muddler and gently press it down on the herbs. Make sure to bruise, not murder them.âÂ
Jungkook already disliked Kyle.Â
As everyone settled into their given roles, Kyle began to talk about mixing alcohols. The doâs, the donâtâs, what kind of alcohol mixes with what liquid, different flavour profiles, hot and cold drinks, and so much more that youâre sure you wonât remember after today.Â
Then, Kyle began demonstrating mixing colours. You actually found yourself fascinated, leaning a little closer as they poured a splash of liqueur into a shaker and swirled it to show contrast.
Kyle had everyone taste different types of liqueurs. Though they controlled the portion, you and Yoongi snuck some extra shots in. But you spat bitter whiskey into a paper towel.
After your fourth shot of vanilla vodka, you were beginning to feel things.
âNow,â Kyle clapped his hands once, smiling mischievously, âtime for something fun. Iâve got a little game for you all. Itâll be a test of your creativity and teamwork.â
Yoongi groaned, already sensing some shit-stirring. These were grown adults with full-time jobs, they didnât need any more intrapersonal skill assessments.Â
âIâm gonna divide you into two teams,â Kyle continued, âEach group gets twenty minutes to create an original cocktail. Youâll present it to me, Iâll taste both, and weâll have a winner.â
Before anyone could voice their opinion, Kyle was already dividing you up, âYoongi and Namjoon are Team One.â
Yoongiâs face lit up in glee. It took you a bit longer to understand though.
That meantâŚ.Â
â_____, Hyewon and the hot one whose name I cannot remember,â Kyle winked, âYouâre Team Two.âÂ
You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning back to the counter.
The awkwardness was palpable.Â
Jungkook stood on one side of Hyewon, cutting ice cubes down. You stood on the other, minding your own beeswax. You have no clue what Hyewon was doing either.
You didnât bother explaining your idea to the couple. You just started building it. A sparkling, glittery pink drink with hints of passionfruit and raspberry. The fizz comes from champagne and tonic, and the glitter is a dusting of white edible shimmer youâd found in one of the tiny jars Kyle had set out.
You crushed the berries, mixed them in with the wine and drained the liquid. You ignored whatever conversation was happening beside you.
It wasnât until you reached for the pink passionfruit that things went sideways. You were trying to cut it up into tinier pieces to mush together with the raspberries.
Jungkook noticed you reaching out for the sharpest knife designed to cut ice - you were about to pick it up by the damn blade, totally distracted by the pigment on your other fingers.
Jungkook nearly lunges over his girlfriend, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist and knock the knife away from your palm before you could cut yourself. Hyewon blinked up at her boyfriend, startled.
The tool clattered to the ground.
You were still staring at your pink-stained fingers. What just happened?Â
âYou canât be picking up knives by the sharp end, _____.â Jungkook scolded you.
The entire deck was now watching on in curiosity.Â
You pout at him, still a little dazed, âGeez, okayâŚâÂ
Jungkook exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, quieter, âJust- tell me what you want to do. Iâll do it.â
You hesitated, but eventually pointed at the fruit. âI want to cut it into smaller pieces to mash.âÂ
âAnd?â Jungkook was already on it.Â
You hum rubbing up and down your arm, âMmm, mix it with tonic and white wine and strain it. Add a little sweetener, then glitterâŚâÂ
Hyewon smiled, jumping in, âIâll mash and strain then.âÂ
You happily pass the little muddler off to her. You wanted to be on glitter duty anyway!Â
Hyewon even sliced a little piece of a tangerine to stick on the rim on the glass. It looked pretty cute.
When the drinks were done, Kyle went around tasting each. They gave feedback on everything.Â
Finally, Yoongi and Namjoonâs smokey citrussy drink won. But that was expected since Yoongi knew a lot about drinking anyway.Â
Kyle lingered by your side, swirling a glass of the _____ (thatâs what you called your drink) in their hand. âThis,â they said, admiring the shimmer under the sun, âis fun. Needs a little more acidity, but the presentation is gorgeous.â
Yay! You smiled, ducking your head shyly. âThanks.âÂ
Jungkook, standing behind you, watched the way you bit back your grin. You tried not to look too pleased. And for some reason, it made something tighten in his chest.Â
Itâs so easy to make you happy. So easy to want to.
Kyle clapped once more. âAlright, mixologists, youâve earned a break. Thereâs a beautiful picnic set up for you on the beach. Follow me, allons-y!â
They led you down the wooden path towards the sand.Â
You walked ahead with Yoongi, talking about how much you loved your sparkly drink idea. Yoongi tells you to turn it into a business plan. You immediately lose interest in discussing your drink with him.
Why were men like that?Â
Behind you, Jungkook fell back beside Namjoon, lowering his voice so only his hyung could hear, âListen,â He cleared his throat. âI booked a yacht for tomorrow to get back to the city.â
Namjoon frowned. He had checked for yachts the day before but none were available for a few weeks now. Plus, he discovered a helicopter to be faster and, surprisingly, cheaper. The port was farther away than the helipad. If they wanted, they could directly land on top of their office building too.
âHow come?â Namjoon chose to ask before hounding him with all this info.Â
âSheâs terrified of flying, man.â Jungkook said it as if it was the most obvious response.Â
Namjoon blinked, following Jungkookâs gaze up ahead - where you were walking barefoot beside Yoongi, shaking your head at something he said. Damn. Maybe Namjoonâs better off not meddling.
next: killah (jjk) [9]
note: firstly, everything i wrote for the mixology class scene is from my own head. i did not feel like researching anything so i just made stuff up. if anything is accurate, it's a coincidence. still, pleek don't attempt to recreate anything from that scene irl
secondly, slut shaming of any of the characters will not be tolerated! be normal ok
finally, these two months are going to be super busy for me (shocker ik.) sooo, if you ask me for an update anytime before december 30, i won't be able to give you any answers đ
please tell me what you think!! write to me, send me memes, interact w me :)
